Page 9 of Mr. Darcy's Runaway Bride
Darcy frowned. “So, it is Pemberley she set her cap on, not its master. Or at least her father has.”
“Is that not often the way of these things?” Richard asked. “You know as well as I that marriages in our circle are arranged for advantage rather than affection.”
“My parents’ marriage was not so,” Darcy said quietly.
“Perhaps not initially,” Richard conceded. “Though even they came to understand the advantages of their union.”
They walked on in silence. Darcy felt the weight of his name and position pressing upon him, as it so often did. Since his father’s death, he had carried the burden of Pemberley, the Darcy legacy, and the care of Georgiana alone. But to have his personal happiness sacrificed on the altar of familial ambition—that, he could not abide.
“I do not intend to marry if I can help it, unless it is for love. And if my family will not let me have that, then I shall not marry at all.”
“What of Pemberley’s future?” Richard asked.
“If I do not have an heir?” he shrugged. “It is not entailed, Georgiana can inherit.”
“Though society would frown upon a woman inheriting such an estate.”
“Society frowns upon many things that are perfectly sensible,” Darcy replied. “And Georgiana would make a fine mistress of Pemberley one day, with the right husband to support her.”
“Is an arranged marriage truly such a burden that you cannot give it a chance?” Richard asked. “Might you not find happiness with Lady Eleanor, given time?”
“Happiness requires more than beauty and accomplishment,” Darcy replied. “It requires understanding. Companionship. A meeting of minds.”
“Ah,” Richard nodded. “You seek a woman with whom you might converse as well as dance.”
“Is that so unreasonable?”
“Not at all. But perhaps Lady Eleanor possesses more depth than you credit her with. Have you truly attempted to discover her character?”
Darcy sighed. “I have observed her in various settings over several months. She appears the very model of what society demands in a young lady—impeccably mannered, expertly trained in water colouring and similar pursuits, and utterly devoid of any original thought or genuine feeling.”
Richard could not suppress a bark of laughter. “You do not mince words, Darcy.”
“I see no purpose in it,” Darcy replied. “Not with you, at least.”
They had reached Piccadilly now, where their paths would diverge—Richard towards his father’s home, Darcy towards Grosvenor Square, home of Darcy House.
“What will you do?” Richard asked.
“I have promised Bingley I will accompany him to Hertfordshire,” Darcy said. “He has leased an estate there and requires assistance in assessing its management. That will take up some of my time.”
“And after?”
Darcy hesitated. “I shall return to Pemberley. Georgiana is leaving for Derbyshire next week as it is.”
“You know well I thought of Lady Eleanor.”
“Richard, I hope, in time she will find a gentleman whose admiration matches her father’s aspirations.”
Richard studied him with shrewd eyes. “You truly mean to refuse the match.”
“I do,” Darcy confirmed. “I cannot base my future—and Pemberley’s—on such a foundation.”
“Father will be displeased,” Richard warned. “As will Lady Catherine.”
“Their displeasure is not my primary concern.”
Richard clapped him on the shoulder. “Well said. Though I advise you to prepare for a formidable resistance. Neither of them surrenders easily.”
