Page 56 of Unwillingly Mrs. Darcy
It had begun slowly, almost imperceptibly. A growing detachment. A quiet withdrawal. When they first arrived at Pemberley, Mary had been solemn but composed—at times, even cheerful. But not long after that outing to Lambton, something had shifted. She had become restless, prone to long walks alone, lost in thought. There had been moments when she had seemed almost hopeful, only for that hope to flicker and dim just as swiftly.
Could it have been him?
Elizabeth’s stomach twisted. Mr Wickham—that despicable man! Had he sought her out? Had he charmed his way into her heart as he once attempted with hers?
She thought of her own history with him—how easily she had once believed his words, how convincingly he had painted himself as the victim of Darcy’s cruelty. He had preyed upon her own prejudices, feeding her carefully constructed lies, knowing exactly what she had wanted to hear. Had he done the same to Mary?
Mary, who had always felt overlooked, who had never quite fit among her sisters.
Mary, who had been uprooted from everything familiar, placed in an unfamiliar house, among unfamiliar people, with no clear sense of her future.
Had she been lonely enough to believe him?
A fresh wave of guilt crashed over Elizabeth. She had warned Mary once, cautioned her not to trust her emotions when it came to Darcy. But now she saw that her sister’s words that day had not truly been about Darcy at all.
Elizabeth took a steadying breath. She’d let Mr Wickham influence her again—albeit it not directly. But he had. She pushed the thought aside, aware she had to reckon with it at some point but for now, they had to act. Immediately.
Chapter 32
Darcy
“This is highly improper Mr Collins is the rightful heir. Surely, the Bennet family can reside someplace else?” Lady Catherine said as she glared at him from her seat. She sat upright, as though her back was fixed to the chair, her chin pushed forward and her expression stern.
Darcy took a deep breath, but before he could respond, his uncle stepped forward.
“My dearest sister, be reasonable. It would be unseemly for Darcy’s wife’s family to be thrown out of their home because of an entailment. Besides, by all accounts Mr Bennet will soon be hale and hearty once more.”
“Are not your own lands entailed?” Lady Catherine challenged him, choosing to ignore his statement about Mr Bennet’s improving health.
His uncle, never one to be easily bested, shrugged. Then, he glanced at his wife who served mostly as a spectator during the negotiations. However, Darcy noted the way Lady Matlock nodded her head at her husband and he knew what was coming next.
“In fact, they are not. They were, but we ended the entailment two years ago. Gregory, Richard, and I were in full agreement that it would not be fair for Gregory to inherit both the title and all of the lands, while Richard received nothing buta cottage in which to live. Therefore, we broke the entail and divided the lands.”
At this, Lady Catherine stood abruptly. “You tell me that Richard will inherit part of Matlock?”
Darcy smiled. He had known this was his uncle’s trump card, and they had discussed the matter in advance just after he arrived. Richard had never shared this news with him, though not out of deception, but purely because Lord Matlock had wanted to keep the matter between their immediate family.
Now that his aunt had begrudgingly agreed to the marriage between Richard and Anne, she could not argue against the breaking of an entailment—especially when it directly benefited her own daughter.
“Why did you not tell me this sooner?” she demanded.
“And lose out on several hours of spirited debate with you regarding whether my son is worthy of your daughter? I think not,” Lord Matlock said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
Darcy closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he met Richard’s gaze. He knew that both of them would have gladly foregone the lengthy debate that had erupted over the union between Anne and Richard. Lady Catherine had fought it for some time before realising she was far outnumbered—the entire family, including Richard’s elder brother Gregory, heir to the Matlock title, as well as their mother, Lady Matlock, had stood in favour of the match.
She had eventually given in, but it appeared that, in exchange, she had dug in her heels when it came to the breaking of the entail. Until now, of course.
Lady Catherine exhaled sharply, her fingers drumming against the armrest of her chair.
“I suppose there is no point in arguing now,” she said at last, though her tone was far from gracious.
“It would seem not,” his uncle agreed, amusement still evident in his tone. “Now, as for the entailment on Longbourn, I would appreciate your assistance in the matter. Mr Collins, as I understand, is well settled at Hunsford.”
“He is, and I would be loath to lose his company,” she said, lips pursed. “I shall think on the matter. I think the way you have all acted is quite atrocious, and unseemly for a family of such high regard. To summon me here only to ambush me, it is—”
A quiet cough at the doorway drew their attention. The butler had entered, his posture impeccable as always, his expression betraying nothing of the nature of his errand. In his gloved hands, he carried a silver salver, upon which rested a letter.
“This has just arrived for you, sir,” he announced, inclining his head as he extended the tray towards Darcy.
