Page 23 of Mr. Darcy's Bargain Bride
“A wife, Bingley. A proper family structure that would counter Wickham’s claims of an unsuitable bachelor establishment.”
Bingley’s eyebrows rose slightly. “You have resisted matrimony for some years now. What has changed your thinking?”
The question struck deeper than his friend could know. Darcy turned back towards the window, his jaw working as heconsidered how much to reveal. “Perhaps I have been overly cautious in matters of the heart.”
“Cautious?”
“When one has lost both parents before reaching thirty, the prospect of forming new attachments carries a certain trepidation.” The admission came almost reluctantly. “It becomes easier to maintain distance than risk enduring such loss again.”
The silence that followed was an understanding one. Bingley had known him long enough to comprehend the weight of such a confession.
“Yet now,” Darcy continued, his gaze finding Ambrose’s small figure below, “I realise that avoiding attachment has not spared me from caring deeply. If anything, it has made me more vulnerable, not less. I cannot protect Ambrose through emotional distance—indeed, such reserve may be precisely what threatens our future together.”
The legal implications were stark and undeniable. A married man with an established household would present a far more compelling argument to the courts than a bachelor, however wealthy or well-connected. The law favoured traditional family arrangements, viewing them as inherently more suitable for child-rearing than even the most well-intentioned guardian acting alone.
Moreover, a wife would provide something Darcy could not offer on his own—a maternal presence that even the most prejudiced magistrate would have to acknowledge as beneficial to Ambrose’s development. The courts might dismiss his devotion as mere bachelor sentiment, but they could hardly argue against the civilising influence of a proper wife and mother.
“Ah. And have you perhaps considered any particular lady for such a role?”
The question hung between them, loaded with implications Darcy was not yet prepared to examine. His gaze drifted towards the window where Miss Bennet’s voice could still be heard, now leading Ambrose and Georgiana in what sounded suspiciously like an impromptu singing lesson.
“I have considered,” he said carefully, “that a marriage of convenience might serve multiple purposes. The right woman could provide Ambrose with the maternal influence he craves while strengthening my legal position against Wickham’s claims.”
“A marriage of convenience.” Bingley’s tone suggested he found the phrase amusing. “And this hypothetical wife—would she need to possess any particular qualities? Beyond the obvious legal advantages, I mean.”
Darcy was quiet for a long moment, listening to Miss Bennet’s clear soprano guiding the little boy through what might have been a nursery rhyme. When he spoke again, his words came slowly, as though he were discovering their truth as he voiced them.
“She would need to care for Ambrose’s welfare. Not merely tolerate his presence, but actively seek his happiness and development. She would need intelligence enough to be a true companion, strength enough to weather the social scrutiny such a battle would inevitably bring.”
“Quite specific requirements,” Bingley noted.
“And,” Darcy continued, “she would need to possess the courage to stand against those who would sacrifice a child’s welfare for the sake of legal technicalities or social propriety.”
The singing below had given way to Ambrose’s delighted exclamations as Miss Bennet apparently agreed to some new adventure. Darcy could picture her face—animated with shared enthusiasm, unconsciously beautiful in her complete focus on the boy’s happiness.
“It sounds,” Bingley said quietly, “as though you have someone quite specific in mind.”
Darcy turned from the window to meet his friend’s knowing gaze. The truth sat between them, unspoken but understood. Elizabeth Bennet possessed every quality he had described and more. She had already proven her devotion to Ambrose’s welfare, her willingness to challenge authority when principles were at stake, her capacity for fierce protectiveness when those she loved were threatened.
But could he ask such a thing of her? Could he propose a marriage based on legal necessity rather than mutual affection, knowing she deserved so much more than a union of convenience?
“The situation is complicated,” he said finally.
“The best situations usually are.” Bingley rose, clapping his friend on the shoulder with characteristic optimism. “But I have observed that when the stakes are highest, people often discover reserves of courage they never knew they possessed.”
As his friend departed, Darcy remained at the window, watching Elizabeth point out different blooms in a flower bed while Ambrose listened with rapt attention. The trust in the boy’s posture as he leaned against her, the maternal tenderness of her guiding touch—it painted a picture of devotion that made his chest tighten with longing.
Could he dare hope that duty and inclination might, for once, align? That the woman who had already claimed his admiration might also prove to be Ambrose’s salvation?
The possibility hung before him like a prayer he hardly dared voice, even to himself.
Chapter Ten
“Must you really go today?” Ambrose’s plaintive question tugged at Elizabeth’s heartstrings as she adjusted her travelling pelisse in Netherfield’s entrance hall. The boy had attached himself to her skirts like a determined burr, already anxious about her departure.
“I’m afraid I must, Ambrose. My family expects me home, and I have already extended my visit far beyond what propriety allows.” Elizabeth knelt to his level, smoothing an unruly curl from his forehead. “But I shall return to visit very soon. That is a promise.”
“Tomorrow?”
