Page 8 of Mr. Darcy's Runaway Bride
Darcy
It was a fine, summer morning, the clouds just covering enough of the brightness to keep Darcy from feeling as constricted as he had the night before. The park was thankfully nearly void of people as he walked alongside his cousin. Nearby, the church bells at St Martin’s in the Field rang, announcing a wedding about to begin.
Beside him, Colonel Fitzwilliam hurried to keep pace.
“You seem troubled, Darcy,” Richard ventured. “Has something occurred to disturb your composure?”
Darcy’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Nothing beyond the usual familial machinations.”
“Ah,” Richard nodded, comprehension immediate. “I take it yesterday’s dinner at Matlock House did not go as our relations hoped? Mother spoke of nothing but Lady Eleanor’s visit.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow. “So, you knew what awaited me and did not warm me? Some friend. It went precisely as they hoped,” Darcy replied, his voice cool. “Lady Eleanor was seated beside me, her accomplishments were extolled at length, and I was left with no illusions as to what is expected of me.”
Richard chuckled. “Lady Eleanor is considered quite a catch. Half the eligible men in London would trade places with you.”
“Then perhaps one of them should marry her instead,” Darcy said.
Richard tipped his hat to the ladies, who giggled and blushed at the attention. Darcy maintained his reserve, nodding politely but without encouragement.
“Father spoke to me this morning,” Richard said as they turned onto a quieter path. “He expressed concern that you might be… resistant to the match.”
Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “Did he send you to persuade me?”
“Good heavens, no. You know me better than that, Darcy. I am merely relaying information.” Richard paused. “As I should have done when I first heard of their plan. I’ll admit it. I must tell you, he seems particularly invested in this venture.”
“And why should he be? Lady Eleanor is not his daughter. Her future is no concern of his. What’s more, I am not his son. You are.”
Richard sighed. “Lady Eleanor has made it known that she is rather fond of you, Darcy. And Father believes you owe him a certain… consideration in this matter.”
“Consideration? For what, pray?”
“For his intervention with Lady Catherine regarding Anne’s marriage.”
Darcy halted abruptly. “What intervention?”
“Surely you must have wondered how our aunt came to accept Anne’s marriage to Fitzroy,” Richard said. “She had spentyears declaring Anne destined for you, only to suddenly give her blessing to an entirely different match.”
“I assumed she finally recognised the impropriety of cousin marrying cousin,” Darcy replied, though he knew better. Lady Catherine was not one to abandon a cherished scheme without significant provocation.
Richard shook his head. “Lady Catherine would never have yielded on her own. Father spent months persuading her that the connection to Fitzroy’s family offered advantages your marriage to Anne could not. He convinced her that allowing Anne to marry elsewhere freed you to make an even more advantageous match.”
“With Lady Eleanor,” Darcy concluded.
“Precisely. Lord Morton and Father have been in discussion for some time. The match would unite two ancient families and consolidate lands in Derbyshire that have been divided for generations.”
Darcy felt a surge of indignation. “So, my future was bartered without my knowledge or consent.”
“Not bartered,” Richard corrected. “Negotiated. With your best interests at heart, he assured me.”
“My best interests,” Darcy echoed. “How fortunate I am to have such attentive relatives.”
They resumed walking, though Darcy measured his stride now, wrestling with this unwelcome revelation. That his uncle should feel entitled to arrange his marriage as if he were a chess piece to be moved about the board at will—it was unconscionable.
“Lady Eleanor is beautiful,” Richard offered after a moment. “Accomplished, well-bred, and in possession of a substantial dowry. Many would consider her the perfect wife.”
“Then why do you not court her?” Darcy challenged. “You are a second son with modest prospects. Such a match would secure your future admirably.”
Richard laughed. “Because, dear Cousin, I am not the master of Pemberley. Lady Eleanor’s father would hardly consider a mere soldier. And as I said, Lady Eleanor has set her cap on you.”
