Despite the Circumstances Read online

  She leaned forward a bit in her chair and dropped her voice as if sharing a secret. “I think any man who does not value the mind of a woman is not a man worth considering. How can such a match be good if the two are unequal in intellect? And, I dare say such a man would be found to be the more wanting of the two.”

  A small chuckle escaped Mr. Darcy’s lips. “I believe you have the right of it, Miss Elizabeth. Your father would not be disappointed with such opinions. He has always been a bit of a revolutionary.”

  “He is indeed.” Elizabeth’s face glowed with pride. “Many consider the word to be a slight, but I, as well as my father, consider it high praise.”

  “As do I, my dear, as do I.” Mr. Darcy grimaced as he rose from his desk, a familiar pain shooting through his hip. “Would you like to see the library while you await your father and uncle?”

  “I would like that very much.” She expected him to ring for someone to escort her, but instead, he stepped around the desk and offered his arm. “Oh, I mustn’t take you from your work,” she protested.

  “I do not see you dragging me away from my desk, Miss Elizabeth. My ledgers shall still be here tomorrow, but you will not. Time must be spent on the items of greatest value, and the value of a person far outweighs that of an estate.”

  “Your words remind me of my father,” said Elizabeth as she took his arm. “He says relationships are the foundation for the making of a great man or woman—but they are also the very thing which can ruin such an individual. One must be careful in choosing who is worthy of your devotion.”

  “He has taught you well.” Mr. Darcy led Elizabeth down a grand hall that was lined with portraits.

  Elizabeth watched him nod a greeting to each footman or maid as he passed them. It appeared no one was beneath his notice.

  “These are your relatives?” said Elizabeth indicating the paintings.

  “They are. Most of them are long departed, but at this end near the library, there are portraits of my children. They were commissioned just last year.”

  “Do you have many children?” asked Elizabeth.

  “Just two. A son, Fitzwilliam and a daughter, Georgiana.” He stopped before two paintings.

  “They are beautiful,” said Elizabeth as she slid her hand off Mr. Darcy’s arm and stepped closer to examine the paintings.

  “Georgiana would thank you for your compliment, but I dare say Fitzwilliam would bristle at being called beautiful.” Mr. Darcy chuckled.

  A soft pink crept up Elizabeth’s cheeks. “Yes, a man cannot be beautiful, but a woman can be handsome. Men are such curious creatures.” She studied the very handsome young man in the painting for a moment. “He looks like you. Is he your height?”

  “He is slightly taller.”

  “So tall?” Elizabeth looked between Mr. Darcy and the painting. “And your daughter, is she tall as well?” Elizabeth turned to look at the youngster’s portrait. “She is very young.”

  “She is not yet ten, but I fear she shall indeed be tall. While height is of no consequence in a man unless he possesses too little of it, in a woman it is a hindrance.”

  “Unless she finds a man who exceeds her in stature,” said Elizabeth. “Is her mother tall?”

  “She was,” said Mr. Darcy.

  “She is gone?” asked Elizabeth softly, instinctively placing a comforting hand on Mr. Darcy’s arm.

  Mr. Darcy covered her hand with his own and gave it a squeeze of appreciation. “Yes, for just over two years.”

  He pushed open the heavy wooden door that stood in front of them. “This is the library.”

  Elizabeth gasped, and her hand flew to her mouth as she took in the spectacular sight in front of her. There were shelves of books, hundreds, maybe thousands, which lined the walls from floor to ceiling.

  “Oh, Mr. Darcy, I had not imagined any house could contain such treasure.” She spun about taking in the whole of the room. “I am sure Pemberley has many beautiful rooms, sir, but I cannot imagine any of them can compare to this room. The only thing better than a room filled with books is a garden in which to walk while reading.”

  Mr. Darcy smiled at her youthful exuberance. “Then you shall be very pleased with this room.” He crossed the room and opened a pair of glass doors leading into the rose garden.

  Elizabeth sighed. “I could stay here forever.” She strolled about the room admiring the books.

  “Mr. Darcy,” intoned Wilkinson. “Lord Matlock’s carriage has entered the drive.”

  “Good, good. Show the gentlemen to my study when they arrive. I have some business to discuss with them before tea is served. I think we will take it in the yellow drawing room.”

  Mr. Darcy turned to Elizabeth. “I am afraid I must leave you for a short time. Amos will remain with you, and Mrs. Reynolds will be along shortly?”

  Wilkinson nodded his understanding and left the room to arrange for tea, show the men to the study, and send Mrs. Reynolds to the library.

  “Do not be concerned about me, Mr. Darcy. I am among a great many friends who will entertain me.” Elizabeth pulled a book from the shelf, and finding a large chair, sank into its depth pulling her feet up under her.

  Mr. Darcy turned to Amos. “You shall care for her as if she were my daughter. Do not allow her to venture into the garden without you, no matter how much she protests.”

  “Of course, sir,” said the footman.

  “You are a good man, Amos. A very good man indeed.” Mr. Darcy clapped the young footman on the shoulder.

  ~*~*~*~*~*~

  Lord Matlock, Mr. Bennet, and Mr. Gardiner were already seated in the study when Mr. Darcy entered.

  “Bennet, your daughter is in the library.” Mr. Darcy chuckled, a sound Matlock had not heard in years. “You may have a difficult time extracting her from there when you are ready to leave. She seemed quite content when I left her.” A smile spread across his face.

  “Difficult?” huffed Mr. Gardiner. “Very nearly impossible is more accurate.”

  “What is Elizabeth doing here?” asked Mr. Bennet.

  “It seems Maggie was sick, and Allen allowed Miss Elizabeth to fill in on part of the delivery route,” replied Mr. Darcy.

  “Allowed?” said Matlock. “More likely was persuaded. She is quite the picture of her father — a quick mind, a teasing wit, and a persuasive tongue.”

  “But, she has the advantage of being a charming young woman,” added Mr. Darcy. “She is a fine young lady.”

  “Indeed,” agreed Mr. Bennet.

  “One of the finest young ladies of my acquaintance,” said Matlock. “Destined to be the mistress of a fine estate, I should think.”

  Three sets of questioning eyes turned on him. His friends were not unaccustomed to his scheming.

  “It is unfortunate Fitzwilliam is at Brantworth with his cousins. I should have liked for him to meet her.”

  “What are you saying, Matlock?” Mr. Bennet’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

  “I am saying, I think Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam would make a good match. I have thought so for years.”

  “Are you trying to arrange a marriage?” asked Mr. Darcy. “Did you not have a rather loud and lengthy falling out with your father about just that thing? If I remember correctly, you were against your sister Catherine’s arranged marriage.”

  “I am not speaking of arranging a marriage, Darcy. I am speaking of making a match. It is my belief that when they meet, a marriage will follow. I have known Fitzwilliam since birth and Elizabeth since she was five-years-old. I know whereof I speak.

  “Darcy, was I not right about Anne? Gardiner, did I not suggest you court Madeline? Bennet, was not your first meeting with Fanny arranged by me? And, I can guarantee you, gentlemen, I was absolutely right about my Victoria. Had father listened to me, Catherine might have been happy, too.”

  “I will grant that you have an uncanny knack, Matlock, but a match which would tie your family to trade?” asked Gardiner.

  “Trade?” Matlock snorted. “What peer of the realm has not done business with you or one of your associates? The ton would be foolish to criticize any alliance with you, Gardiner.”

  “And what of Philips? He is only a country solicitor,” added Gardiner.

  “Who is in the pocket of more than one powerful peer.” Matlock challenged. “I assure you I have given this considerable thought.”

  Mr. Darcy scrutinized Matlock. “You are sure of this?”

  “Quite sure.”

  “I only wish that my children are happy, truly happy.” Mr. Darcy shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “My doctor tells me my time is not long. While I am saddened that I shall not see my children marry or hold my grandchildren in my arms, I cannot say that my life was unhappy. I was fortunate to have found love. That is what I wish for my children, a love match.

  “If Bennet’s daughter is that for my son, I would not withhold my blessing. And, having met Miss Elizabeth, I do not doubt Matlock’s opinion. However, Fitzwilliam must not meet her now.” He sighed. “He shall soon have more responsibilities than anyone his age should have. A courtship, engagement, or marriage at such a time would not be wise.” He rose and walked to the window.

  “My friends,” he said as he faced them, “you must promise me you will see that my children do not marry for anything less than love.” He turned away quickly. His chest pinched and breathing came slowly.

  “If I might speak for all of us,” said Mr. Bennet as he moved to Mr. Darcy’s side and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “none of our children shall marry for anything less than love. I give you my solemn word, Darcy.

  “As for a joining of our families, I am not opposed to the idea, but Lizzy is young. She is not yet sixteen. However, if, in a few years, neither of our children
have married, a meeting could be arranged. Should that time come after you have passed on, Darcy, and if Matlock is indeed correct that theirs would be a love match, I shall happily welcome your son as my own. Does this meet with your approval?”

  Darcy turned and clasped his friend’s hand. His throat was thick as he spoke. “Yes, Bennet, you have my approval.” He looked at the three gentlemen in his study and thought back to his time at Oxford when he had met Bennet and Matlock as fellow students, and Gardiner as a friend of Matlock’s from town. “I am so blessed. The good Lord surely knew what he was doing when he placed us all at Oxford at the same time.”

  “Indeed, the Lord is good,” commented Gardiner.

  Shaking his head to clear away the remembrances of times spent with these three men, Mr. Darcy steeled himself for the conversation which was to follow.

  “Now to the remaining business for which I have requested this meeting. I have received the final copy of my will. I wish for you all to know its contents.”

  The next hour was spent in reading the will and discussing Mr. Darcy’s intentions. “My children will need guidance. Fitzwilliam is young. To have the responsibility of an estate such as Pemberley and the care of his younger sister thrust upon him at his age is staggering. It eases my mind to know he shall have the guidance of Matlock and the support of my friends.” He sank back into his chair, the emotional strain of the meeting clearly etched upon his features.

  “Sir,” said Wilkinson as he entered the room. “Miss Elizabeth would like to inform you that tea is waiting.”

  “Not Mrs. Reynolds?” Mr. Darcy inquired of his butler.

  “No, sir. Mrs. Reynolds thought the tea would survive a short wait, but Miss Elizabeth insisted lukewarm tea was only good for watering roses.” The stoic butler smiled. “It would not do to keep her waiting, sir.”

  The four men laughed.

  “Like I said, gentlemen, she is destined to be the mistress of this fine estate.”

  Mr. Darcy thumped his brother-in-law on the back. “I pray you are correct, Matlock. I pray you are correct.”

  August 1810

  Lawrence Fitzwilliam, Viscount Brantworth, eldest son of Lord Matlock, sat in the breakfast room of Greyston Manor and closed his eyes against the brightness of the morning.

  “Tell me I did not kiss a chicken, this time, Richard,” he moaned. Slowly he opened his eyes and adjusted them to the stabbing rays of light from the early morning sun which shone through the great windows. It had been a late night of celebrations due to the wedding which would happen on the morrow, and Lawrence was feeling the pronounced effects of too much imbibing.

  Richard chuckled and stabbed a thick slice of ham with his fork. “No, you did not kiss a chicken.”

  “Did I ride a pig?” Lawrence scrubbed his face with his hands trying to wash away the feeling of fog.

  Richard shook his head. “No, you did not ride a pig.”

  “So I did nothing embarrassing? I did not accept any of your absurd wagers?” Lawrence knew that, almost without fail, a night of revelry with his brother lead to some embarrassing tale to tell usually with himself as the chief player, since Richard knew that when thoroughly soused Lawrence would accept the most ridiculous of wagers.

  Just last year at Lord Greyston‘s house party, Lawrence had accepted three such wagers and had walked a fence rail while wearing a bonnet, kissed a chicken, and ridden a very portly and not too pleased pig.

  Richard raised a forkful of ham in the air and punctuated of whom he spoke with his knife. “I did not have to wager anything to make you look the fool, brother. You seemed bent on accomplishing the task on your own.”

  Lawrence groaned and sipped his strong, black coffee. “What did I do?”

  Richard chewed his food slowly and studied his brother. “You do not remember any of it?” he asked, a teasing smile on his face.

  “Would I be asking if I did?” Lawrence snapped. His head was pounding, and he had little patience for Richard’s jesting.

  Richard refilled his cup of coffee, added a bit of cream, and stirred, clinking his spoon rather loudly against the sides of the cup and earning a scowl from his brother.

  “Perchance you are suffering enough. Shall I relieve you of your curiosity?” He studied his brother for a few moments longer.

  “I can assure you, my suffering is sufficient, Richard. Would you kindly inform me of my actions?”

  “You know you really do not sing well, and brandy does not improve your abilities.”

  “I sang?”

  Richard nodded. “Beneath a young lady’s window.” He leaned forward, rested his elbows on the table, and supported his chin on his clasped hands. His lips twitched at the dismay which registered on his brother’s face.

  He knew he was enjoying his brother’s discomfort far more than he should, yet he continued, “Apparently, she is a lady of good musical sensibility and did not seem to care for your croaking, if I can call it that without offending any of our amphibious friends, as she rushed outside to beg of you to stop.”

  Lawrence dropped his head into his hands and groaned. “And did I?”

  “Aye, you stopped singing, but you were by no means ready to quit your display of affection for the young lady.”

  Richard sipped his coffee and watched as Lawrence’s shoulders drooped and his head sank further towards the table. “No, you thought it an excellent idea to declare yourself to her.”

  Lawrence’s head snapped up. “I made an offer? To a young lady?”

  Richard laughed. “Yes, to a young lady. No barnyard creatures were involved.”

  “So, am I to be leg-shackled?” Lawrence’s eyes were wide in horror. “Is she at least pretty?”

  Ignoring his brother’s first question, Richard replied, “She is very pretty.”

  “Am I to be leg-shackled?” Lawrence repeated. “Did she accept my hand?”

  “I shall not answer that, nor shall I tell you her name.” A snicker escaped Richard, and a roguish smile spread across his face. He placed his cup on the table and leaned toward his brother. “I have reconsidered. You are not suffering quite enough for my enjoyment.”

  Lawrence growled. “I shall return the favour, mark my words.”

  Richard laughed. “My enjoyment of your current situation shall be worth the price, I can assure you.”

  Lawrence opened his mouth to retaliate, but closed it again as Elizabeth, wearing a simple grey day dress and carrying her bonnet, entered the room.

  “Good morning, Miss Elizabeth,” Richard said as he and Lawrence rose to greet her.

  “Good morning, Colonel.” She smiled knowingly at him and proceeded to fill her plate from the sideboard. When her plate was filled, she placed it on the table next to Lawrence and then, with a quick look about the room, placed a light kiss on his cheek. “My lord, it is good to see you this morning.”

  Lawrence’s eyes lit with understanding. “Richard, did I…?”

  Richard bit the sides of his cheek to keep from laughing at the look of shock on his brother’s face and shrugged.

  “Did you what, my dear?” Elizabeth rested a hand on Lawrence’s arm.

  “I, uh, I,” he faltered. “I do not remember all of what I did or said last night. I was merely inquiring of my brother about my actions.”

  “Surely you remember your visit to my bedroom window?” Elizabeth turned imploring eyes upon the poor man.

  Lawrence looked only for a moment into her eyes before dropping his and replying. “I am afraid I do not remember visiting you at all.”

  Seeing him peek up at her to gauge her reaction, Elizabeth furrowed her brow and pouted slightly for a moment before brightening. “It matters not. An offer is an offer, and there were witnesses.” She spread preserves on her roll.

  “However, I have not yet reached a decision. I do hope you can be patient. After all, your proposal did come as quite a shock. I cannot say I ever expected you to hold me in such high regard.” She looked across the table at Richard, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

  Lawrence sat in stunned silence.

  “Good morning, my sons.” Lady Matlock entered the room accompanied by her husband as well as Lord Greyston and his betrothed.

  “I say, Lawrence, you are looking a bit pale this morning. I do hope you are not becoming ill. Who shall stand up with Greyston if you are unwell?” She laid a hand on his cheek and then his forehead.