Page 40 of Mr. Darcy's Runaway Bride
“I can well imagine their content,” Darcy said dryly, thinking of his aunt’s propensity for dramatic pronouncements.
“She accuses Mrs Darcy of all manner of witchery,” the Colonel confirmed, with an apologetic glance towards Elizabeth. “Though I assure you, madam, no one of sense gives much weight to my aunt’s dramatics.”
Darcy watched Elizabeth’s response, impressed by her composure as she met his cousin’s candid gaze with a level one of her own. “I have developed a thick skin, Colonel, through years of managing my own mother’s sensibilities. I daresay Lady Catherine’s opinion will not crush my spirits, however forcefully expressed.”
The Colonel smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “I believe you shall do very well at Pemberley, Mrs Darcy.”
“And my uncle?” Darcy asked, turning the conversation back to the Earl of Matlock. “Beyond being ‘quite beside himself’ what is his true response? He has written to me but you know as well as I sentiments expressed in writing rarely mirror those professed behind closed doors.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam’s expression grew more serious. “Disappointed that his plans for an alliance with Lord Morton have been dashed. Concerned that you acted in haste. There is talk of connection, of course—the usual considerations.”
“By which you mean they object to Elizabeth’s lack of fortune and consequence,” Darcy stated flatly, feeling a surge of protectiveness towards his wife.
“They object to knowing nothing of her or her family,” the Colonel corrected. “Though yes, there are murmurs about unsuitability of rank. My mother has enquired extensively about the Bennets of Hertfordshire, with limited success.”
Darcy observed a flush of mortification rise to Elizabeth’s cheeks, though her expression remained composed. It ignited a surprising anger within him to see her discomfited by his family’s prejudices.
“The Bennets are a respectable family,” he said, his voice taking on a firmness that surprised even himself. “Mr Bennet is a gentleman with an estate entailed upon the male line. Mrs Bennet’s connections are in trade, it is true, but they are respectable people of sense and propriety. Elizabeth’s uncle is a lawyer in Meryton, and her uncle in London is engaged in a prosperous import business.”
“You need not defend my lineage so vigorously,” Elizabeth interjected. “I am perfectly aware of my position in society relative to yours.”
“It is not a defence,” Darcy insisted, turning to her. “Merely a statement of fact. Your family’s standing is entirely respectable, whatever my relatives might insinuate.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam looked between them, his shrewd eyes missing nothing. “There are also rumours,” he said carefully, “that this match was pursued for… financial advantage.”
“By Elizabeth?” Darcy asked, incredulity clear in his voice. “That is absurd. She had no notion of my wealth or position when we met. Indeed, Mr Bennet has declined my offer of assistance in managing some temporary difficulties with the Longbourn estate.”
“If I may speak for myself,” she interrupted and he instantly inhaled at the tone she used. It was restrained but tinged with displeasure. He understood then he ought not to have spoken over her as though she were not present. It was what she had disliked about Jonathan Blackfriars. He wanted to make her into an ornament without thoughts and opinions of her own and in his desire to shield her from scrutiny, he had gone down a similar path.
“Of course,” he said. “I merely wished to dispel any notion of impropriety, but you are more than capable of doing so yourself.”
“And I thank you,” she said, her shoulders relaxing before turning to his cousin. “I met your cousin by chance, and we decided to wed before I knew how vast his wealth and estate were. It was no consideration of mine; I can assure you of that. He saved me from a most unfortunate fate.”
“And she did the same for me,” Darcy added. “You know the fate I was destined for.”
“You’ve always been decisive to a fault.”
“Sometimes circumstances demand swift action, and sometimes one recognises what one needs with unexpected clarity,” Darcy said. “This match was most advantageous for both of us, even if it does not look that way to our families.”
He noticed Elizabeth’s breath catch at his words. He had written to his cousin, of course, to tell him exactly what had happened and thus there was no need to pretend.
“Well,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, setting down his cup, “I must say you seem remarkably well suited. There is already an ease between you that many real couples never achieve.”
Their eyes met across the table and he saw at once that Elizabeth was struck by this statement as much as he was. Could it be that she thought of him as more than simply a friend, a solution to her troubles? Did she harbour similar feelings to his?
His cousin soon interrupted the conversation, “Pray, Elizabeth if I may call you that, tell me how you find Pemberley. Has my cousin shown you the full extent of the grounds yet?”
Darcy was grateful for the change of subject, though he noted how his cousin deftly turned the conversation to personal matters rather than social ones—a tactic Richard had always employed when gathering intelligence.
“Not entirely, for there is much to see,” Elizabeth replied. “Though we have walked extensively through the gardens and woods nearest the house. Yesterday I ventured as far as the old stone bridge.”
“Ah, the bridge! One of the finest vantage points on the estate,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, leaning forward enthusiastically. “As children, Darcy and I would fish from itsarches for hours. Did he tell you of the time he fell in while attempting to land a particularly large trout?”
“He did not,” Elizabeth said, her interest piqued. “I confess I find it difficult to imagine Mr Darcy in such an undignified predicament.”
“I was ten years old,” Darcy protested, taking a swig from his wine.
“And soaked to the skin,” his cousin added with relish. “He insisted on continuing to fish, despite his chattering teeth and blue lips. Always stubborn, even then.”
