Chapter 2. It's a weather-beaten world
Author's note: Darcy's POV. I know I promised last chapter they'd meet in this chapter, but I felt it necessary for this to come first. The meeting is definitely next though c: I'm very sorry for the long wait, a virus ate most of the info on my computer, so I was without one for a while. But to make up for it I have chapter 3 all ready and will post it at the end of the week.
Revised: Due to some comments left in reviews, some content in this chapter has been altered. For new readers, this won't affect you, but for those already following, you can either re-read this, or see the Authors note in the next chapter, which gives an overview of what has changed.
Big thanks to Zozobee and Maclaney, my two wonderful betas :D
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Darcy looked up from poring over the household ledgers when a door slammed in the distance. His hands were at his temples, supporting his head and he groaned quietly; a sound that petered into a weary sigh. His eyes closed as he fell back into his disturbed thoughts.
Only last month, the situation had gone from bad to worse.
"Mr Darcy, my son has every right to marry your sister!" His fingers massaged the headache that began to form as that insistent voice intruded. "He loves her and making an alliance would do them both good. I say that if she loves him, let them marry!"
"They cannot marry! You know well, they cannot."
"Why? Because your pride and arrogance tells you that they should not? Your father had pride, Sir, but even he recognised that Mr Wickham, my son, is worthy of attention. He is born to be great, and marriage to your sister..."
"Marriage to my sister will condemn her to an unhappy life, and he to a position he is not worthy of!"
"Not worthy? Not worthy! Your father, great man that he was, knew that my son was worthy! Why else should he pay him so much attention?"
Why indeed? Darcy had never really made sense of it. His father had been an intelligent man with strong morals, yet it was as Mrs Wickham said; Old Mr Darcy had paid his steward's son an unaccounted for amount of attention. And Mrs Wickham, the stewards wife, knew it very well. Darcy could still picture her smug smile, as though she fancied that she'd trapped him.
"He felt sorry for your son, and respected his father. There was nothing more to it than that. I am sorry Mrs Wickham, but a match between them would not be prudent," That lady had tried to interrupt, but he continued, "and I am convinced my father would have agreed."
"Your father would have loved to see his favourite married to his daughter!" She had tried to bluster her way through.
"No." He'd bristled at her insinuation that he had been second in his fathers eyes next to Wickham, but his voice remained steady and firm. His father had been sure to impress upon him the importance of controlling his emotions, and he would not fall to something as pitiful as jealousy, "My father wished to see your son make something of himself in this world, but he had no wish to see my sister lower herself to marry a stewards son. Mrs Wickham, I am afraid the matter is not open for discussion. Whether my sister, or Mr Wickham or yourself wish them to make a match, it will never happen."
"Surely I have a say in this!" He had seen her frustration, but he would not relent.
"As Mr Wickham's mother, you may have influence over him, but over myself and Georgiana, you have none. My cousin and I, her two rightful guardians, both agree that the connection will not take place. We will not entertain the idea." He did pity Mrs Wickham's cause, for he saw that she was a mother who only wanted her son to better his station, but Darcy could not agree to such a thing when his sister could only suffer from the attachment. Should such a marriage occur, her place in the world would lower drastically in society's eyes, and more important yet, she would suffer terribly as she realised the man she married was not at all who she thought he was. It was for Georgiana's good that he stand firm. "If that is all, I must ask you to - "
"Mr Darcy!" She had risen abruptly, looking at him fiercely through narrowed eyes. "I will not relent on this matter. You will condemn them both to implacable unhappiness if you do not see the folly of your ways. You will see Mr Darcy! You will regret your hasty rejection of my son!" She had grabbed her reticule and swished her way to the door, but paused as Mr Darcy spoke once again.
"I do not regret your son's impending discontent; indeed it is my pleasure to disappoint him in this. But madam, you are wrong in two things. Firstly, my sister may be unhappy to begin with; but she will regain her spirits soon enough."
Mrs Wickham had snorted in derision, the sound further proving his position. The Wickham's were not even of the gentry, let alone of the same set. An arrangement could never take place with such an improper family.
"And what is the other thing Sir?" The contempt in her voice was clear, "Will you try to argue that you will not regret your choice?" The sneer directed at him did not affect him. He had merely set his glass down on his fathers large desk and stood calmly.
"Not at all, Mrs Wickham." A brow had risen, "I would not attempt such a pointless endeavour. I merely wished to tell you that my decision, and my cousin's also, was by no means hasty. We had always planned to give such an answer, if ever the situation were to arise. I have been contemplating the possibility of this unfortunate ultimatum for many a year; ever since my sister turned three and ten. Thus, our minds have been made up since before my father's death." He paused, stood and looked at her coldly, "You are correct in calling the Darcy's proud, I will not contradict you. But do not suppose you can threaten me."
She had glared at him a moment and then had left in a huff.
Coming out of his recollection, he stared vacantly down at the papers in front of him, seeing nothing, but hearing the wind howl and rattle at the study's windows. Since that day it had felt like everyone he lived with was going against him. Georgiana had watched him warily and avoided him when she could. Wickham had hung around like the loitering infidel that he was, but mostly kept to himself and must have made an obvious effort to avoid Darcy's notice when possible.
He'd placed loyal servants on both of them at all times, so he wasn't too concerned about any misbehaviour. What was more worrying was that Mrs Wickham also wandered the corridors of Darcy House. Sometimes he would see her whispering to her son, sometimes she would sit and smile falsely at the unsuspecting Georgiana, telling her falsehoods and half-truths that Darcy knew not how to contradict. Darcy rarely knew how to speak to his sister anymore.
"Speech is what many people say separate us from the animals," he recalled his old university professor once saying, "but I believe it is the ability to put emotion and meaning into speech, that separates us, for even a dog can bark and a bee can buzz, but they cannot discuss, and cannot argue, and they cannot forgive. They cannot reason. That, students, is man's privilege, and it is our duty to use them."
How could he reason with a sister who believed herself in love, an emotion that cared not for reason or rationality? How could he discuss the issue with Wickham, a man so mercenary and set on his goal as to push aside everything moral and proper? The only thing he thought might come of a confrontation between either of them was an argument, which could surely bring no good. If he was to separate them, and send Wickham and his mother away, would Georgiana forgive him?
It was all too risky with Georgiana, Wickham and Mrs Wickham in the same house. Up until now he had allowed Mrs Wickham and her son to stay here in the town house because it was their home and Mrs Wickham loved town. He also knew Georgiana to appreciate their company a great deal and hadn't had the wish to make her unhappy. But now something had to be done, and soon, for he was certain the wily Mrs Wickham was plotting some scheme or another so that her son might marry Georgiana. Perhaps he should send Georgiana to the countess for a season while he figured out how to deal with the Wickhams'?
His head jerked up as the study door crashed open and he espied a grinning man standing under the door frame.
"Richard!" Darcy exclaimed in surprise, standing abruptly in greeting, "It's good to see you!"
"Yes, I imagine you should be glad to see me, considering how I've spent the last few years. It's extremely reassuring to know that I would be missed should I be killed at war."
"You're too wise a soldier to be killed at war, cousin," Darcy said, gesturing for him to take a seat, "I doubt you shall be killed on the battle field."
"Ah, but you know death and war favours no man, Darcy. I could die the second I next step into a fray, although perhaps it is more likely that mother will drive me to bedlam first."
Darcy's smile slipped as Richard stumbled and fell rather than sat on the indicated seat.
"Richard - !" The taller gentleman cried, beginning to make his way around the large desk that separated them.
"It's nothing Darcy, pay me no heed. It is still healing, is all."
Darcy watched in concern, looking pointedly at the leg as Richard cringed again, "How long are you off-duty for?"
"However long it takes for this leg to heal." Richard gritted his teeth as a swell of pain washed up his leg, "Blast it!" he muttered, holding his leg awkwardly out before him.
Darcy was frowning in concern as he handed his cousin some wine to dull the pain, "Have you considered that perhaps you should have stayed in the infirmary a while lon - "
"I will not!" Richard declared, "I will not be treated as an invalid when I am able to walk and do everything for myself, most especially when there are others who need the attention more than I. They sent me home and for good reason. All I need for my recovery is distraction and occasional rest."
"Occasional?" Darcy's brow rose, "I'd consider your need for rest greater than an occasional intermission."
"Why do you think I'm here?" Richard replied in amusement, "To take advantage of you, your wine, your lovely house and grounds," he said with a smile. "Or perhaps, what say you, that we both go on holiday?"
"I say it is unneeded. You can get plenty rest right here at home, or even with your mother."
"Well I say it's very needed!" Richard protested.
"And how do you come to this conclusion?" Darcy sat and raised his glass to his lips to take a drink, concealing his half-smile.
Richard eyed him knowingly, "Well, for myself, I need to rest and recuperate and I know that will never happen if I am merely stuck at home being forced to be pleasant to callers - " Darcy's brow rose in amusement, for he knew Richard to be a very social man, and the colonel never minded entertaining. Richard ignored his cousin's smile and continued, "And you need a holiday because... well, I hardly think I need explain it." He glanced meaningfully at the very tall, very neat stack of papers sitting perfectly arranged on the masters desk.
Darcy looked away, and the colonel continued, "You know, I visited a friend recently, and as I walked in his front door for a surprise visit, I happened to come across this mans' loyal butler who was taking out his master's morning mail. And can you believe it, there were all of fourteen letters to be delivered! Fourteen! Can you imagine that, Darcy?"
"Richard I hardly think it is too uncommon, and really I should not think that is any of your - "
Richard ignored him with an eye-roll, "And not only that, but when I stopped to ask this butler why there were so many letters, and if his master suddenly found himself to be a social man, the butler told me that the amount of letters was not unusual as of late. He also added that the master spent most of his time in the study - "
"Richard..." Darcy said warningly.
"And he had not accepted a single dinner or ball invitation in over two months! The letters were all estate and business correspondence!"
"That is quite enough Richard!" Darcy's voice had an edge to it.
"Darcy," Richard began compassionately, watching his cousin and friend, "Your father died many months ago now, and you must realise that it is time to re-enter society again. Stop worrying about Georgiana and Wickham, for you cannot change the situation, so we must bear it. I have an idea, and a temporary solution."
Richard put his glass down on the desk with a loud 'clunk', before he continued, "So that your mind may be made easy, I suggest that Georgiana visit my mother for a time, and with she and Wickham separated, you will no longer have to play as a constant chaperone. In their absence, I propose that we, the both of us, leave town and go to the country for a few months. This way we will both happily solve your problem, avoid the social-climbing debutantes and get some fresh air that will do us both some good."
"I will take into account your suggestion about Georgiana staying with your mother, but this seems very unneccessary. You know you're always welcome to come to Pemberley anytime you like - and I am agreeable to us staying there for the season if that is what you wish."
Richard eyed his cousin shrewdly, "So that you can continue in your current, hermit-like habits? Darcy, I did not mean Pemberley and you know it. Instead I suggest we visit my acquaintance and your good friend, Mr Bingley, in Hertfordshire. I am sure he would welcome us."
Darcy knew Bingley had recently taken an estate in that part of the country, but so far hadn't visited, due to Georgiana's situation. Darcy had known him for years now, ever since university. Darcy had always been unhappy in society, tending to be silent rather than gay, but since his father's death, he'd secluded himself even further. Bingley had arrived at Darcy house for a call last season at an inopportune time and they had gotten into a discussion that had escalated into an unusually heated argument, in relation to one of Bingley's 'Angels'.
And so, Darcy found that Bingley left with his sisters to Hertfordshire without inviting Darcy, whereas usually he would have. So it was with a reasonable amount of uncertainty that the gentleman said, "I am not sure that Bingley would welcome my presence at this time."
Richard frowned thoughtfully and swirled the contents of his glass, "Well, I still insist that you come with me, even if we will not be staying with Bingley. In fact, I have the solution!" The colonel's eyes were bright as he sat forward eagerly, "I think my brother, Edmund, owns an estate in that country - I shall ask him about it and if he wishes to join us there."
Darcy sighed wearily, "Richard, I do not think all this necessary. I am not likely to be pleasant company for either of you."
"Nonsense Darcy! Edmund shares your quiet disposition and will not hesitate to have you along. You are welcome, and I absolutely insist that you come! We will take you no matter your mood or disposition and it may be that the country air will improve them. I have high hopes for our trip."
"As you wish, cousin." Darcy finished his drink, thinking that perhaps it was just as well that he had something to divert his attention and mind. Estate and business paperwork can only go so far in distracting a person, after all, and not only that, but the work that it provided was very soon to run out. Darcy had been writing up tenant papers and figuring out balances for this year as well as what he could for the year coming, so he would have little estate management left to think on but those occasional dispute emergencies between tenants that sometimes arose.
Being in unfamiliar country would be diverting and he had a hope to properly mend things with Bingley while he was there. And besides, as Richard correctly said, removing to the country side was almost certainly a good way to avoid the london season. He'd had quite enough of writing and sending letters of apology saying 'I am sorry, madam and sirs, I cannot be attending your dinner party this friday evening...'
"Right then!" Richard said decisively, "I shall talk with my brother and we shall prepare ourselves to go. In the meantime, as I suspect you have been in here the whole day, what say you to a bout of fencing?"
"Richard I hardly think fencing counts as resting. That leg needs to stay still and keep elevated - not have its master continue to abuse it."
Richard chuckled, "Darcy, I am now pain-free. The spasm has passed and I feel like a young man again. I challenge you Sir, and if you decline I should think you a coward for backing down from a crippled man."
"Hardly crippled," Darcy replied in amusement, "But I promise to go easy on you."
Richard glowered at his cousin, "You shall do no such thing, old man. I'd wager I'd still beat you even with a dead leg."
"I suppose we shall see then, shall we not?" Darcy rose with a grin and followed his guffawing cousin out the door.
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Half an hour later saw the two friends at the fencing club, after Darcy had failed to persuade his cousin into something less taxing, with their foils pointed at each other.
"I hope you know what you're doing." Darcy said warningly, watching his cousin shift his weight from one leg to the other.
"Darcy this sport is not about leg strength. It is about balance and quickness; which I maintain and with which I will win. En garde!"
Both men got into the typical fencing position, eyeing one another, although the glint in Richard's eye was distinctly less friendly and more competitive. The fencing master gave the word, "Allez!" and Richard immediately lunged at his cousin, who parried successfully, though only just.
"Getting slower, old man!" Richard taunted with a laugh and they continued the match, alternately lunging and parrying.
"Hardly!" Darcy grinned, executing a riposte immediately after Richard's clumsy attack.
Darcy should have seen it coming, as Richard disengaged his foil from Darcy's by tipping the blade under his own and up, then lunging and scoring a point to Darcy's padded chest.
"Haha!" Richard cried jubilantly stepping back, "Do you acknowledge the hit!?"
"I do, cousin." Darcy replied, shaking his head, "It seems being in His Majesty's service has favoured you."
"Haven't you been practising while I've been away?" Richard mocked good-naturedly as they once again resumed their starting positions.
"I'm afraid not." Came Darcy's grim reply as he parried two quick attacks and then made a lunge of his own, driving Richard backwards. Richard winced and Darcy immediately backed off, but Richard merely laughed and started his own attack, earning a derisive glare from his cousin for his trickery.
Darcy managed to stave off the attacks, and couldn't help but notice that Richard rarely lunged, as it would require him to use his injured leg more. Moreover, he was tiring quickly. When Richard feigned a lunge and then attacked a different way, Darcy was ready and protected himself adequately enough to riposte and begin his own attack. Richard, who was well versed in sword-play as well as fencing, saw through his feints and was quick to deflect the attacking foil, but even so, he retreated little by little.
As he stepped back after a very near-hit, Richard grunted heavily and his foil wavered uncertainly, but Darcy, believing his cousin to be once again playing on his sympathies, kept up the attack, watching his opponents eyes, which were still very much narrowed in concentration. When Richard made a clumsy return attack, Darcy took the chance to step forward, deftly flick aside his opponents foil and score a point.
Richard glared at his taller cousin, who stepped back and lowered the point of the weapon.
"I really think that's enough for today." Darcy said, eyeing Richard's heaving upper body.
"I believe it was the best of three, Darcy, do not go easy on me now." Richard took up his stance again and pointed his foil in front of him.
"Richard you are fatigued, don't be a fool - "
"En garde!"
With an irritated grunt, Darcy parried an attack, stepping to the side slightly as he did and keeping his stance in good position, his right side facing Richard and his left arm out behind him. Darcy half-heartedly made an attack, but even Richard saw that it was a poor attempt and the reasoning behind it.
Instead of taking the wide open opportunity to score a point, Richard took a step back and bellowed, "Come now Darcy, I dare you to be soft on me!" and he followed this up with an energetic attack, driving Darcy back and shuffling on the balls of his feet. Darcy had just deflected a particularly vicious jab when suddenly Richard cried out, dropped his foil and clutched his leg.
"Richard!" Darcy dropped his own weapon to the side and went to his cousin's aid. The colonel was kneeling, his face twisted in pain as he attempted to stretch out one leg. "You're a fool!" Darcy growled as he attempted to gesture at a servant to fetch help, but being thwarted by Richard who grated,
"I'm fine Darcy, just help me sit up properly!"
"Reckless, foolish - "
"I do not need a lecture! I will not be treated as an invalid and I will spend my life the way I choose! Do not try to chastise me!" Richard's voice was so vehement that it was immediately obvious that the colonel was not merely talking about the current incident.
A pause followed Richard's outburst, before Darcy gruffly asked "...How long did they say before you could go back to your regiment...?"
Richard sighed, sweat slipping down his neck and his face churning in distress, as he huffed angrily, "They believe I'll never be whole enough to go back. But this leg will heal and I'll be back on the battlefield before Napoleon can show his little white flag!"
"Can you stand?" Darcy asked, ignoring his cousin's other troubles for the moment.
"I can!" Richard grated, "And I shall do so on my own."
Darcy stood up and took a step back, looking down at his fallen cousin in amusement, "And how do you propose to do that?"
"Darcy, it is called, 'picking oneself up!'"
Richard held Darcy's eyes long enough that the latter gentleman understood the double meaning in Richard's tone. Both cousins' needed to pick themselves up.
Darcy shook his head in bemusement at his cousin, who struggled to stand up by himself. He called for the servants to attend the colonel, who gratefully leaned on them despite his previous sentiment. Once he was properly vertical, and had quenched his thirst with some water that had been offered to him, Richard took a hold of Darcy's waiting arm as a servant collected their things, and handed them to Darcy. The colonel leaned on his cousin the whole way to the waiting carriage, and was dutifully helped in. He breathed a sigh of relief as he sat on the padded cushions and could properly examine his leg in the closeness of the carriage. The carriage began to rumble back towards Darcy house but the suspension on the wheels of the fine carriage were such that they were not jolted too much.
"Well!" Richard declared in his old good-humour a moment later, "I'd say that was a bloody unfair match!"
"Says the boy who cried wolf."
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One week later and it was arranged that while Darcy went to Hertfordshire, Georgiana would go to stay with her aunt, the Countess Matlock, and the Wickham's would go back to Pemberley. Richard, in that one week duration, had spoken with his brother and it was set that in four days hence the three gentlemen would go to Hertfordshire to live in Edmund's country house, Blytherton Manor.
Those four days passed slowly for Darcy, who, with an empty house but for the servants, often had little to do. He found himself idly walking the corridors and wondering at what point there might be a mistress for this grand house. It was quite plain to him that Georgiana needed a sister to guide her while she was growing up, and a female companion during her first entrance into society would be essential. Mrs Wickham, well-meaning as she could be, was blinded by her love for her son, and could not provide the necessary wisdom Georgiana needed in making a proper match.
He looked up at a portrait of his great-great-great grandfather and pondered upon the mystery of his future wife. In generations past, some of his grandfathers had had their marriages arranged. It seemed so much simpler that way, and yet also very much more controlled. He was aware that his aunt Catherine hoped for him to marry Anne, and was very nearly pushing him into an engagement with her, yet he knew that Anne would never be the right woman for both Georgiana and himself. Georgiana needed guidance and assurance, someone who knew themselves and their place in society, and could transfer that knowledge to her to help her become a more confident woman. And he barely knew what he needed for himself. He hadn't met a lady yet who inspired much more in him than a desire to escape their presence.
Bingley's sister was a prime example of this. Caroline, accomplished and beautiful as she was, could hardly entice him into conversation, let alone marriage. He hated the way many of the tons women were, with their falsely created airs, their lowered lashes and smiling lips. Not one of them seemed to have an original thought of their own, nor even a smile that appeared true. Richard had once joked that the tons mothers' brought their daughters up in such a way as to teach them to be everything a gentleman could want. A lady, especially tailored to the supposed wants of a gentleman! Richard had crowed loudly at such a statement, despite them both seeing the uncanny truth of it.
Yet Darcy did not want that kind of tailored wife at all. He didn't want a girl whose only thought was to please him, to simper, to agree with every thought or word he said. He didn't want flawless features, alluring smiles or a weak-minded wife. He knew exactly what he didn't want, but what, or who, he did want for a wife, was much less certain. Perhaps if he ever found a girl who carried none of the traits he didn't want, he could marry her.
He shook his head bemusedly at the backwards thinking, and carried on walking, past the portraits, whose figures seemed to look down on him as he passed underneath. He had a history with matchmaking mothers and their daughters, and while none of the encounters were pleasant, he could at least look back on a few with amusement. Richard knew at least half of such cases and took delight in retelling them at intimate family gatherings.
The worst of these events occurred when they were at Rosings, and Richard had mentioned a girl named Phyllis, and how she had followed Darcy around at one of his Aunt's balls that he had been obliged to attend. Lady Catherine's response was more than a little bit drastic, as she demanded to know who this girl was, who was her mother and where did she live? She also repeated several times at the dinner table that the girl had better know her place and who did she think she was, really? Of course, after that incident, Richard chose not to mention any of Darcy's admirers in Lady Catherine's hearing, as most of those unfortunate questions were directed at him. There was also the threat of Lady Catherine going to town to visit this young lady, so they collectively, with quite a large amount of amusement on Richard's part, convinced her that Darcy was in no danger of falling under Miss Phyllis's arts and wiles.
Darcy found himself smiling at the memory, and consequently startled a servant on his way back to his study. Once within, he resolved to finish what business he had on his desk.
After two hours of finishing estate management papers, he started a letter of thanks to his aunt for taking Georgiana in, but soon set his feathered pen aside and contemplated his writing. After a moment, he added to the parchment, "Tell Georgiana I ask after her health and well-being and please make sure she is as comfortable there as may be. I am sure she will welcome many of Londons' diversions that are open to young girls that are not yet out. Perhaps she will enjoy a trip to the opera?
As you know the situation with my sister and Mr Wickham, she may need a ready ear to listen to her, as I suspect for the moment she may feel acute distress at his absence. Mr Wickham and his mother will arrive at Pemberley in less than a day from now, but I request most emphatically that Georgiana not be sent there until I am able to join her. Also, although I am loath to consider the possibility, it may be necessary for correspondence from the wrong persons to be kept from my sister. I take comfort in knowing you will understand my reasons.
As for myself, I will be traveling to the country very soon and hope to gain new perspective on what to make of my current dilemma while visiting an old university friend. Letters sent to Darcy-house will be forwarded by my steward and will reach me soon after.
Please encourage Georgiana to write me, and I must thank you once again for your trouble and helping Georgiana. She has long needed the wisdom of a mother to guide her.
Yours,
F. Darcy
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Up next, Darcy and Elizabeth meet, and dangerous sparks fly in chapter 3; "Insolence and insults" c:
