by Jann Rowland
“Why have you come here in all this state?” his father had asked when Darcy had returned to the estate, wet to his chest after his encounter with Thomas Bennet in the river.
“I happened to be of assistance to the Bennet family this morning, Father,” Darcy had replied, much to his father’s bewilderment. “The children were picnicking at the old ruin to the north when the Bennets’ only son fell into the river. As I had been in the area and was able to help, I entered the water and caught him before he was carried away by the waters.”
“You saved the future baron?” asked the elder Mr. Darcy, shock flowing from him.
“It was nothing, Father,” said Darcy, eager to avoid any mention of heroics or the like. To assist was the mark of a gentleman, and to do so when able was the mark of any man of good moral fiber. “I was in a fortunate position which allowed me to fetch the boy from the water—anyone else would do the same.”
His father’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “And why were you nearby?”
“I have already informed you of my intentions regarding the baron’s daughter,” replied Darcy, not giving an inch. “Bingley informed me of their plans and I went intending to see the woman I love. I am sorry if you do not appreciate my actions, but I will not apologize for them.”
Mr. Darcy grunted, but then his manner turned introspective. Having changed—and fended off questions from his Aunt Catherine about the reason for his sodden state—Darcy spent the rest of the morning in his father’s company, noting how the elder man remained distracted. Darcy knew the approximate length of time it would take for the Bennets to return to their home, and calculating that time, along with explanations and other such activities, he judged it likely the baron would grace their home by about the second hour after noon. It was obvious to Darcy that his father had made the same calculations and came to the same conclusion. The thought of the baron waiting on him was appealing to his father.
When the man in question entered the room, his erect bearing did nothing to promote the image of a humbled supplicant with hat in hand. As his eyes fell on Darcy, however, his gratitude was clear to see. Darcy did not mean to make him pay for that gratitude by humiliating him, nor would he allow his father to do likewise.
“Lord Arundel,” said Mr. Darcy, rising to greet their guest. “Welcome to Pemberley.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” said Lord Arundel.
The lower-ranked gentleman did not offer his hand, and the higher did not appear to notice that lack. At once, Lord Arundel approached Darcy and offered his own hand, which Darcy did not hesitate to take.
“I wish to thank you, sir, from the bottom of my heart, for the succor you rendered my heir this morning in the river. Your quick actions showed great courage and selflessness, and I cannot express my gratitude for the nobility of character which prompted you to put aside the enmity between our houses and extend your helping hand to my distressed son.”
“Lord Arundel,” said Darcy, “please do not consider the matter any further. I believe that any man of any integrity would have acted the same way. The river is not deep, and even in its heightened state, I do not think I was in any danger. It was my pleasure to assist.”
The baron chuckled. “I should take greater care in heeding my daughter’s judgment, for she has informed me of your honorable nature. Now that I have seen it for myself, I can only be ashamed I allowed the situation between us to blind me.
“Though you do not know it, I believe you were of greater assistance than you know; Elizabeth informed me herself she was on the edge of following her brother into the river to attempt to retrieve him.”
Darcy stared at the man in shock, not having known of Elizabeth’s intentions. It was clear he should have suspected her capable of such an action, for there was no more fearless lady in the district. The baron had seen his shock and consternation, for he chuckled and squeezed Darcy’s hand, which he still held.
“I see you had not known that, young man; it seems you do not know my daughter as well as you thought. Let me tell you here and now that my Elizabeth would jump into the depths of the sea to help another if she thought it necessary. In the future, I would recommend you keep her away from swiftly flowing rivers.”
The mention of his future association with the baron’s daughter heartened Darcy enough to provoke a grin. The baron returned it in every particular—for the first time it seemed they saw each other without prejudice marring their sight. Darcy felt that having this man for a father-in-law would be a desirable circumstance!
“I shall be certain to remember that, sir,” said Darcy. “If there is any need to enter a river to save some unfortunate, I shall ensure that person is myself.”
“An excellent notion.”
“Thank you for coming here today,” said Mr. Darcy, interrupting their greeting. Darcy turned to his father along with the baron and noted the elder man regarding him with some pride. The pleasant nature of their greeting, however, seemed to have removed the gloating from his father’s mood, for he displayed none of it now.
“It was the least I could do, to thank my son’s benefactor,” said Lord Arundel. Then he turned to Darcy and added: “You should prepare to receive a certain measure of hero-worship from my son, sir, for he is certain you must be the equal of Hercules, at the very least.”
Darcy laughed. “I shall endure it, sir, though I hope he will come to see me as an elder brother as we become better acquainted.”
“Shall we sit down to a glass of brandy?” asked Darcy’s father, once again taking their attention.
“That would be welcome, sir, for there is one other matter I have come to discuss. I suspect it would be more easily accomplished if we had some fortification.”
Both father and son understood the baron’s meaning, though the subject was more palatable to the son than the father. But his father said nothing, contenting himself with pouring a finger’s width of the amber liquid into three glasses, and handing one to each of Darcy and the baron. When they sat around the desk, his father sipped his drink and made his opinion known.
“I believe it would be premature to accede to what I believe you are suggesting, Lord Arundel.”
“I disagree,” was the baron’s firm but polite response. “The evidence of my daughter’s feelings for your son has become unmistakable, and I cannot doubt his in return. It seems to me this is a perfect time and means of repairing the divide between us.”
Mr. Darcy once again sipped from his glass, his manner introspective. “Yes, I understand the historical advantage of a strategic marriage. But if you will forgive my saying so, it seems to me my son’s actions in assisting your heir have skewed your judgment.”
“Influenced my judgment,” corrected Lord Arundel. “I do not dispute your assertion, Mr. Darcy. However, I would say that rather than having skewed my judgment, as you say, it has caused me to reevaluate what I believe to be important. My daughter’s happiness is of paramount importance to me. If we can help repair our relations through our children’s happiness, then it seems we need not consider the matter further.”
Nodding slowly, Mr. Darcy turned to his son. “I understand you have offered for Lord Arundel’s daughter.”
“I have, Father. In our eyes, we are engaged, though we have not been so fortunate as to gain the blessings of our fathers.”
“I gave my blessing to my daughter before I departed Longbourn,” said Lord Arundel. Then he grinned at Darcy and added: “Do not think, however, that removes the necessity to come to me to ask for her hand. It is the duty of every father to make the man his daughter means to marry sweat a little.”
Darcy laughed along with the baron. “Have you not had your fill of it? Has Bingley not already sued for your eldest daughter’s hand?”
“You have my apologies, sir, but it is tradition. We cannot go against tradition, can we?”
“No, I suppose not,” replied Darcy with a chuckle.
The way his father was watching them, it seemed to Darcy he
had come to some understanding of the man Lord Arundel was and found it intriguing. The elder man, much like Darcy was himself, was a man of soberness and duty, but that did not mean he did not know how to laugh. If they allowed themselves to come to know each other, Darcy could not but suppose they would each like what they saw and become firm friends.
“Tradition it may be,” interjected Darcy’s father, “but I wonder if it would not be better to take our time rather than rushing into a wedding.”
“What do you mean?” asked Lord Arundel.
“Only that it may be best if we proceeded slowly. To the neighborhood and society at large, the Bennets and Darcys are still the bitterest of enemies. Perhaps a courtship would be advisable? Then society may become accustomed to seeing our children together.”
“The prospect of further gossip concerns you?” asked Lord Arundel.
“Yes,” replied Mr. Darcy. “We Darcys do not appreciate being the target of the wagging tongues of society, though I must confess the state of matters between our families has provided much fodder over the years. If we announce a sudden engagement between our offspring, there is no telling what others will say of them.”
The notion of delaying his union with Elizabeth was not one which was palatable to Darcy, for he thought he had waited long enough. Then the thought of having Elizabeth as his wife, despite the rancor, despite decades of distrust and hostility filled him, and Darcy knew that to wait for a short time would be a small price to pay to achieve the desire of his heart. The other two gentlemen were watching him, Lord Arundel with amusement written upon his brow, while his father’s look was more pleading. Darcy made the only decision he could.
“To prevent gossip, I will accept,” said he. “But I will not wait for long. I should think a courtship of three months, followed by an engagement of another three should be enough to quell the worst tendencies of the gossips.”
“Very well,” said his father, though Darcy was certain he might have wished for more time. “If Lord Arundel will agree, then I will concur.”
“That sounds reasonable to me, gentlemen,” said Lord Arundel, raising his glass.
So decided, they spent a few moments speaking in a desultory fashion, and if their conversation was marked by a certain hesitation, Darcy was heartened to see the two elder gentlemen making the attempt. Nothing of any substance was said for the most part, but the first few tentative steps were taken between them. Then the baron raised a matter of importance to them all.
“What of Lady Catherine?” asked Lord Arundel, though his grin suggested he already knew of the situation. “It was my understanding that she wished your son to become her own. Shall she not cause trouble?”
“Anne and I both told her, in language which she could not misunderstand, that we would not fall in with her schemes.” Darcy paused and laughed. “For that matter, do you know of Mr. Gardiner’s association with my cousin, Anne de Bourgh?”
“Is there more fraternizing between our families of which I was not aware?” asked Lord Arundel.
The baron seemed inured to surprise by this time, though his words proved he was not aware of the connection between Anne and Mr. Gardiner. In as brief a manner as possible, Darcy explained what he had learned from Anne, and recounted the confrontation with Lady Catherine that very morning. The baron chuckled throughout his recitation, shaking his head in wonder.
“It seems our families are intent upon ensuring our spat is ended, sir,” said he, raising his glass to Darcy’s father. “I say there is no reason to attempt to deny them any longer.”
“Yes, it appears to be so.” Mr. Darcy paused and then said: “Lady Catherine will do as she will, and there is little anyone can do to prevent her. If she becomes too unruly, I shall send her home to Rosings. She may complain there as much as she likes, and it shall not concern me a jot.”
“We may be buried by a flurry of letters expressing her displeasure,” said Darcy.
Lord Arundel laughed. “From what I know of the lady, you may be correct.”
“Is it not still early enough in the year to warm our rooms with our hearths?” asked Mr. Darcy in a wry tone. “If she bends enough of her attention to letter writing, it will relieve us from the burden of cutting wood for our fireplaces.”
The three gentlemen laughed, but at that moment they became aware of a disturbance outside the room. It surprised Darcy to hear Bingley’s voice demanding to be shown to the study and was about to rise to investigate the commotion when the door swung open. Bingley appeared agitated, for he looked at them all, a hint of wildness in his eyes.
“Lord Arundel!” said he urgently. “I have just come from Longbourn. Your lady wife has discovered a note in Miss Lydia’s room announcing she has left in Alexander’s company for Gretna. They have eloped!”
Chapter XXXII
For a moment no one spoke, the gentlemen in the room because they were too surprised, while Bingley was engaged in catching his breath. It was unsurprising to Darcy when his father provided the means of response.
“Alexander? Eloped with Miss Lydia Bennet? Impossible!”
In Darcy’s mind’s eye, however, he was considering Alexander’s demeanor when he had ordered Darcy from Thorndell. Though he had not considered it at the time, there had been an air of determination about his brother—perhaps it was correct to say he had seen it but had not considered it anything other than Alexander’s wish for him to leave. Could Alexander have eloped with the youngest Bennet? Darcy was forced to acknowledge it was possible—more than possible, in fact.
“Send word to Thorndell at once!” said Mr. Darcy, speaking through the door to the butler. “Send a footman asking Alexander to return to Pemberley.”
“Of course, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Parker, their butler, in a voice of much diffidence, after which he bowed and turned away, and Darcy’s father stepped back into the study, confusion on his countenance. As the man who bore the tidings of the supposed elopement, the two elder gentlemen turned to Bingley while Darcy watched.
“What did my wife find, Bingley?” asked Lord Arundel.
“Your daughter did not appear when your son returned to the estate, but in the excitement no one noticed,” replied Bingley. “Then, after Thomas was sent to bed and you departed, Lady Margaret became concerned that Lydia had not appeared today.”
“Which is when she discovered Lydia’s note,” said Lord Arundel with a nod. “Did she speak with Lydia’s maid?”
“Miss Lydia dismissed the maid when she retired yesterday evening and informed her she did not wish to be disturbed.”
Lord Arundel shook his head and turned to his host. “It seems they planned this in advance, through what means I cannot say. There have been times when Lydia has stayed abed until late morning, so her absence early in the day would not have excited suspicion.”
“Is this something of which you consider your daughter capable?”
When Lord Arundel did not answer at once and regarded Darcy’s father with a pointed glance, Darcy reflected that not all had been put aside between the two families. There was still opportunity for misunderstanding and conflict if they did not take care to speak clearly. Fortunately, the Darcy patriarch seemed to understand how his words could be understood and hastened to clarify.
“If it seems like I was attempting to heap the blame on your daughter, I apologize. My son, I know, must bear a large measure of the responsibility if they have gone off together. It was not my attention to accuse.”
“Do not concern yourself, Darcy,” said Lord Arundel, waving him off. “It seems we must take care to avoid taking offense at everything one of us says. Regarding my daughter, I must say that she can be willful she feels she is justified. I have always said Lydia possesses far too much courage; unfortunate though it may be, that daring is not always checked by good sense. What of your son?”
Mr. Darcy considered the matter for a moment and grimaced. “Yes, I can see Alexander running off with your daughter. Though his reputation in the d
istrict is embellished, he, too, is accustomed to leaping where fool’s fear to tread.”
“I offer my apologies in advance,” said Lord Arundel “but I must ask this question. Can your son be trusted to take her to Gretna?”
“I cannot see Alexander attempting anything untoward with your daughter,” interjected Darcy.
“Yes, I must concur,” said his father. “If he has taken her away, I must assume his purpose is marriage.”
Lord Arundel spoke again. “It seems this event has given us new insight into the relationship between our progeny, and given what has happened, I cannot but suppose they have met far more often than we were led to believe.” Lord Arundel’s eyes found Darcy and he smirked. “It appears you are not the only Darcy son to be meeting with a Bennet daughter away from the eyes of society.”
“That must be so,” replied Mr. Darcy. “If we leave now, we may still reach them before they arrive at Gretna?”
“I must disagree with you, sir,” said Lord Arundel when Mr. Darcy began to rise. At Mr. Darcy’s frown he said: “They have had most of the day to put as much distance between themselves and Derbyshire as they can, and if your son is at all sensible, he will press on, stopping late and leaving early. Under those circumstances, they can reach Gretna Green within about three days’ time. As they have almost a full day of travel, if they left early enough, it seems unlikely we could catch them before they arrive.”
Mr. Darcy nodded, though his unhappiness could not be mistaken. When he rose and began pacing the room in his agitation, Darcy knew his father was considering going after them regardless.
“I should not wish my family name to be on the tongue of every gossip in Derbyshire and beyond,” said he. “A marriage now must be inevitable, but should we not bring them back and force them to marry in the proper manner?”
“The family name has already been on more than one tongue these many years,” was Lord Arundel’s reply. In Darcy’s mind, Lord Arundel seemed rather indolent now, for he was resting back in his chair, his eyes following Mr. Darcy’s pacing with amusement. “I dare say an elopement—if they were both sensible enough to avoid . . . consummating their relationship until after the wedding—is much less serious than many other transgressions might be. When we put out news of the future marriage between your eldest and my second child, I believe that will become the main topic of gossip. I should think now that Alexander and Lydia have forced the issue, it would be best to announce the engagement, rather than waiting as you suggested.”
