Mr. Bennet pursed his lips, biting back a sarcastic retort, and began to read through the legalities. When he came to the amount Darcy was to settle upon his daughter after their marriage became official, he drew a sharp intake of breath and, after a few minutes, said, “I realize you have ten thousand a year, young man, but can you truly afford to be so generous as to settle forty thousand pounds on my Lizzy?”
A wry grin turned the corners of Darcy’s mouth. “It appears the good people of Hertfordshire have been remiss in their speculation of my fortune. That they should think I have only ten thousand a year, I find excessively diverting. Pemberley, of course, takes in just over that, but if you were to include my other holdings and investments, both abroad and in Scotland, my net worth should be closer to twenty, perhaps a little more. I believe all the particulars are mentioned there in detail. And forgive my impertinence, Mr. Bennet, but your Lizzy is very soon to become my wife. Forty thousand pounds is no more than she deserves.”
Massaging the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Mr. Bennet could not but agree with him.
“I would like to marry Elizabeth by the end of the week.”
Mr. Bennet sighed. “Yes. As well you should. I see no reason to put it off any longer than that, especially given the urgency of the current situation. I do believe it would be in everyone’s best interest, however, if this conversation remained between the two of us.” Mr. Bennet rested his elbows upon the arms of the chair and steepled his fingers. “Do you agree with this proposal, or would you prefer I bring my wife into our confidence? It is your call, Darcy.”
Hoping, rather than assuming he had been joking, Darcy repressed a shudder as he imagined Mrs. Bennet learning he had been sharing a bed with her daughter. There was no doubt in his mind that news of the scandal would spread through the streets of London in a matter of hours. “No. On that we are in complete agreement. We need not distress Mrs. Bennet with any of the particulars.”
“No, I thought as much.” Mr. Bennet rose from his chair and made to leave. “If you will excuse me, I believe I will return to my room now for some much-needed repose.”
Just as he was about to close the door, however, Mr. Bennet turned and fixed Darcy with a stern look. “Oh, and Darcy, if you cannot remain in your own bed for a mere five nights until your wedding day, and I happen to learn of it—and make no mistake, I will learn of it—I daresay you will not find me quite so forgiving as I have been tonight.” And with that, Mr. Bennet stepped out into the hall, closing the door firmly behind him as Darcy fell back into the well-worn leather chair behind his desk.
Chapter 16
Darcy did not go to bed the night of his aunt’s visit. He did not consider having shared Elizabeth’s bed as actually sleeping, particularly since those emotionally exhausting hours were mostly spent in earnest, yet painful conversation, and in reassuring her of his steadfastness, his devotion, and his ardent love. It was not a night he ever wished to repeat.
It was but a matter of moments after Georgiana had left them that Darcy’s deepest fears had been realized. It had mattered not to Elizabeth that she had already given herself to him completely—that she had become his wife, both in heart and in body, if not yet in the eyes of God—for her sweet, unsteady voice had uttered the words he had dreaded to hear above any others: “I am sorry, Mr. Darcy, but I am afraid I can no longer agree to be your wife. I hereby release you from our engagement.”
Hearing her refer to him in so stiff and formal a manner made him feel as though a knife had been driven into his heart. It had taken Darcy nearly half the night to convince Elizabeth to reconsider taking such a rash measure, and now, as he looked back upon those wretched hours, he was not the least bit ashamed to admit he had done everything within his power to hold on to her. He could no more have stopped the tears that had threatened to fall from his eyes than he could have prevented himself from dropping to his knees as he begged her, his voice quivering with raw emotion, not to leave him. He told her of the emptiness in his life before he had met her, of how her liveliness and intelligence had brought such joy and fulfillment to his mundane existence. He told her of how the tediousness of his responsibilities and position in society would become, once more, a punishment for him if he could not gaze into her eyes every day and hold her in his arms every night. He could not bear the thought of living without her, for a life without her would be no life for him at all.
It was not until the clock had struck half past four in the early hours of the morning that Elizabeth had finally accepted another proposal from him—My third one, Darcy had thought with some irony—and finally, through glistening eyes, she had proclaimed, and with a passion to rival his own, what Darcy had been praying all night long to hear—that she could no more bear the thought of living without him than he could bear contemplating a life without her.
They had not made love—both were far too emotionally and physically drained for that—but, by unspoken agreement, Darcy had stayed with her, cradling Elizabeth in his arms and caressing her hair long after she had finally succumbed to sleep. When he had finally forced himself to leave the comfortable warmth of her bed, it was only to be discovered in a most untenable position by Mr. Bennet.
By the time a rather displeased, but resigned, Mr. Bennet had left Darcy alone in his study, the sun had already begun to show over the horizon. Given it was now morning, Darcy had chosen to remain there, deep in reflection and tormenting himself with what Elizabeth had been prepared to do to spare him further censure from people whose opinions he cared nothing for in the first place. It matters not in any case, for she must marry me now that her father has discovered the extent of our intimacy. Darcy stifled a yawn and closed his eyes, resting his head against the back of his chair. It was then that Lord and Lady Matlock were shown into his study—at far too early an hour for polite visitation—to find him far from being at his best.
“Goodness, Nephew,” cried Lady Matlock as she took in Darcy’s haggard appearance. “You look absolutely wretched. Did you not get any sleep at all?”
Darcy rose to his feet and raked his hand through his hair. “Forgive my appearance, Aunt Rebecca. I fear your visit this morning has taken me by surprise.”
She gave him an appraising look and raised her brow. He was not wearing his tailcoat, waistcoat, or cravat. “That is apparent, Fitzwilliam.”
Lord Matlock spoke in his usual gruff manner. “Well, I certainly hope your young lady is faring better than you look, Nephew.”
Darcy averted his eyes. “I have yet to see Elizabeth this morning.”
The earl raised his brows. “Hmm. Interesting… interesting. By the look of you, I would be willing to wager a great deal that you have.”
Darcy’s head snapped up; his lips tightly pursed.
“Henry, that is enough,” Lady Matlock admonished. “We did not come here to make further accusations. We came to offer our support.”