A/N: Quite a number of people have expressed dissatisfaction about the first-cousins pairing. I would like to state that I am not trying to support cousin marriage through this story (or another one of my upcoming stories, actually). But since it was common practice at the time, and since the premise requires such a pairing for the plot to exist at all, I do not apologize for creating this story. Of all the possible JAFF Romeo/Juliet scenarios, I believe a pairing between children of couples we know well has the most impact.
I have always been upfront about the pairing. Please do not read this story if the premise is off-putting to you. And to everyone else, thanks for joining me on this little adventure!
"Are we choosing wisely?" Elizabeth wrapped her hand around her husband's, her eyes - and, she trusted, his as well - locked on the carriage currently Matlock-bound. The carriage held their only daughter, who had miraculously trusted them enough to agree to this sudden visit.
Perhaps it was best that Lady Matlock preferred Bethanne's company so keenly.
It made the arrangement just that much easier to form.
"I most certainly hope we are," came her husband's hushed reply.
Elizabeth nodded, standing so close to him that she had but to lean slightly to rest her head on his gallant shoulder.
His shoulders felt heavier today, however - weighed down with troubles not of his own creation.
Her husband was a man who had weathered much in his life. From the day they had married, Elizabeth had sworn to be a source of comfort to him. Day after day, year after year, she had striven to provide him with a home and a family who brought him nothing but joy.
Who could have thought that their daughter - their first child - that tiny creature who had unraveled the hearts of her parents and knitted them all together as one - would be the source of so much distress today?
"When is your sister due to arrive?" asked Darcy.
Elizabeth sighed, still discomfited by the news that Francis had written to his mother regarding his invitation to Pemberley - and Lydia, being who she was, had immediately considered herself invited as well.
Thank God Wickham remained stationed in the North.
"We have one night of quiet with Edward," Elizabeth replied.
"Very well, let us enjoy it as we can."
Elizabeth nodded, just before she pressed a kiss on her husband's cheek.
"Oh, but the colors and the fabrics and the gold!" Lydia whirled around the drawing room before seating herself on the largest chair in the room, a chair reserved day to day for Elizabeth's husband. Lydia's eyes continued to survey all the details of her surroundings. "I dare say I now understand why you barely leave Pemberley, Lizzy. The place is a veritable palace!"
Elizabeth sighed, striving her best to remain civil in the face of Lydia's shameless adoration of the Darcys' material wealth.
"Mama," Francis - a tall and handsome young man, whose features combined the best in both his parents - called out to his mother. Elizabeth observed the boy as he walked to stand by Lydia. His gait was crisp, though casual. He walked as one who had never walked in London's hallowed halls would stride. "Should we not wait for Aunt Darcy?"
Francis's unexpected prompting led Lydia to refocus on her standing sister.
Elizabeth shifted her stance and cleared her throat.
"Shall we be seated?" She spoke with all the regality her years of marriage had lent her.
Lydia, the silly woman, laughed.
"See now, Francis, darling. She asks us to sit all the same! It may have been years, but I do know my sister's mind."
The woman now called Mrs. Wickham smiled brightly at Elizabeth, and young Mr. Wickham bowed before taking a seat near his mother.
Elizabeth chose the couch, a safer distance from her exuberant sibling.
"It is awfully kind of you to invite us, Lizzy," Lydia prattled on, smiling still. "I seldom see my own son these days, with his always being at Loungborn. Thank goodness Jane invited him to London - lest he waste away in Papa's study!"
Lydia chuckled, her eyes unjustifiably merry.
Elizabeth had half a mind to remind her sister that she had not been invited.
But Lydia's reference to Francis's most recent trip to town made sure that Elizabeth's thoughts were drawn to the primary purpose of this entire visit in the first place.
"Mrs. Wickham, Mr. Wickham, welcome to Pemberley," Elizabeth stated, her hands folded on her lap. "I trust you shall find your rooms suited to your liking. We have spared no expense for your comfort."
In one wing of the house, her husband toiled away in his study. A few doors from him, little Edward toiled away with his lessons. They were all to convene for supper tonight.
Between that meal and the scene at the drawing room this very instance, Elizabeth ought to have multiple opportunities to let the young boy show his true colors before the rest of the household.
It was imperative that Elizabeth handle her role in this arrangement perfectly.
"Pemberley has an expansive staff that have been trained for such occasions," Elizabeth declared. "Pray, do not hesitate to inquire of them whatever you may wish for your stay."
"Oh, you are too kind, Lizzy!" Lydia was quick to exclaim. "I have been famished for years with dear Wicky's regiment in the cold, harsh North. I used to be sad, you know, that I'd lost both the babes before Francis came - but I must be thankful all the same that we don't have that many mouths to feed."
"Mama," Francis interceded.
"Oh, it's quite alright. Lizzy knows all about it." Lydia dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. "But isn't it splendid now that we are all together here? And with Lizzy and her husband so very generous with us. Oh! Shall we have chocolate amongst our sweets today?"
"Mama, it would be improper for us to abuse Aunt and Uncle Darcy's kindness," Francis corrected.
"Oh, pish posh. You don't know what you are saying, boy."
There was a familiarity to the way the boy uttered his words, the way he frowned almost disapprovingly at his mother. The tone with which he reprimanded his mother - it reminded Elizabeth all too much of the times her own father had chosen to temper her mother's outbursts.
Elizabeth cleared her throat. "Francis, do not fret. You are our nephew. We would be honored to offer you whatsoever you may desire of this household."
There was one quick moment, one fleeting instant, when Francis Wickham and his affable face seemed to look as if he yearned to say something he knew he ought not to say.
Then he smiled, well-mannered, once more. "Thank you, Aunt Darcy. You are most kind. I trust any provisions you have made should prove far beyond what my mother and I may need."
Elizabeth nodded slowly, discontent with how properly the boy was acting.
It seemed to be that much greater effort had to be exerted to have him reveal his shallow, mercenary nature.
Elizabeth sighed, unimpressed by the prospect of the task before them.
Then she made herself to smile. "Mrs. Reynolds shall show you to your rooms."
Three days passed.
Three whole days of ceaseless provocation - and, still, Francis Wickham refused to provide any just cause for the dismissal of his suit outside of his most unfortunate pedigree. In fact, the young man spent each day dedicated to accompanying the two ladies of the house - and, upon occasion, Edward and Darcy - without a single word in reference to his supposed inclination for Bethanne. Neither had Darcy, or Elizabeth, found him corresponding with anyone but Mr. Bennet.
Darcy was beginning to hope that Bethanne's understanding with her cousin had been only in her mind.
To love alone was a sorrowful thing - but a much easier thing to surmount than any mutual affections.
Oh God forbid that Bethanne Darcy become a Mrs. Wickham!
Darcy shuddered at the thought.
"Uncle Darcy, Aunt Darcy said you called for me?" The young man who was the very cause of Darcy's consternation appeared at his door.
"Yes," Darcy bid him to enter. Here, in Pemberley's study, Darcy felt himself able to fully control and employ all his capacities as master and man. "Do sit."
Francis obeyed, with a smile.
It was a handsome smile that Darcy had come to dread.
"You have been here - for many nights now," Darcy began, eager to receive confirmation that there existed no understanding between this person and his daughter. "I hope you have found Pemberley to your liking."
"Your family has been most generous. I shall treasure the many things I have learned."
Darcy nodded. "And has anything in Pemberley - perhaps caught your eye?"
"I particularly enjoyed the library, sir," he replied with no hesitation. "I count myself privileged to have had the chance to immerse myself in such a treasure trove of knowledge."
Again, Darcy nodded. How was this young man so impenetrable?
It was true that Mr. Bennet's influence radiated from him - and he acted every bit the Hertfordshire gentleman over a military brat.
But a segment in the back of Darcy's mind insisted that there was no possible way George Wickham's son could be this astute and aspiring young man sitting before him.
"As you see, your Aunt Darcy and I count ourselves honored to contribute to your education," Darcy nearly half-lied. He shifted slightly. "Perhaps this would be a good time then - for us to discuss what the goal of your education happens to be?"
Francis took one fleeting second before nodding and smiling once more. "Your advice would be invaluable, Uncle Darcy."
Darcy nodded and grunted. He folded his arms.
"It is to my understanding that you were largely raised at Longbourn."
"Indeed, sir. Grandfather Bennet saw to my education personally."
"Right - and I trust you are aware that Longbourn is entailed away from the female line?"
"Yes." Francis nodded, without a smile this time. "It is fortunate for my grandmother that Grandfather lives in good health to this day."
"You have no aspirations to inherit Longbourn."
"I fear I have no means to break the entail, sir," Francis answered openly. He smiled again, though only quickly this time. "I am prepared to seek my own profession."
"To what end to you expect to be trained?"
"For the cloth, sir. Cousin Collins has his patron's word that I shall be offered the Hunsford living upon his inheriting Longbourn."
The news, so easily recited off Francis's tongue, caught Darcy entirely by surprise.
Wickham's son as a parson - the thought itself was absurd!
Darcy moved his face about slightly to suppress any sign of unholy bemusement.
"You consider yourself devout?" He asked.
"I know the circumstances of my parents' marriage." Francis's words surprised him again. "I seek to provide care and counsel for a village lest more stumble as they did."
Darcy spent a minute considering what sort of patron Anne de Bourgh's husband - the third son of an earl, who now lived with her in Rosings Park - would be.
The prospect of the Hunsford living was perhaps a more favorable one than it had used to be.
"And you seek to provide this care and counsel - as a bachelor?" The words came to Darcy.
And there they were - uncle and nephew - at the very crux of their conversation.
"If the Lord would have me marry, sir, I would gladly do so," spoke Francis.
"To any lady in particular?" Darcy maintained his level stare.
Francis inhaled, slowly, before sighing quite audibly.
"Is there a question, sir, that you wish to ask me?"
The bluntness was welcome.
And Darcy asked freely, "Do you or do you not have designs upon my daughter Bethanne?"
Francis closed his eyes, shutting his visual connection to the world, before reopening them.
His words were crisp when he answered, "I cannot lie, Uncle Darcy. I admire Cousin Beth - exceedingly so. Her kindness and intelligence render her the most remarkable lady of my acquaintance. She is beautiful - but not conceited over her beauty. She is accomplished - yet ever friendly without condescension to others who are not her equal. Her conversation infuses any room with happiness, and she brightens the lives of all she comes to know."
Darcy's jaw was set as tight as it could be.
"But who am I to consider myself worthy of her hand?" Francis continued, unprompted. A look of sadness now weighed upon his face. "Shall I have a young woman raised amidst the splendor of Pemberley lower herself to be a parson's wife - living far away from her childhood home - with her own relatives as her husband's patron? I cannot."
Darcy watched as Francis ran his hands over his face.
"If I truly care for her - which I do, sir, I truly do - then I cannot permit her this life. I would never dare to aspire to her hand in marriage."
"And yet you make your feelings known to her." Darcy could not help his reply.
"I have never spoken directly to her of my affections," Francis explained. "And if my actions or words have - inadvertently - conveyed to her the depth of my feelings, then I plead for your forgiveness, Uncle Darcy. Perhaps I had tried so intensely to guard my true thoughts from my mother that I had failed to guard them successfully from Cousin Beth herself."
Darcy wished he could find insincerity behind this eloquent young man's words.
To his dismay, he could not.
"And if Bethanne herself - wishes for your company," he said, slowly.
A flicker of hope seemed to dance itself into Francis Wickham's gaze.
"I - then I throw myself at your mercy, Uncle Darcy."
Eventually, Darcy nodded. "Very well. Shall you leave me alone to my work, Francis? I have much to attend to."
"Yes, Uncle Darcy, of course."
The study door closed, and Darcy's very, very full heart nearly led him to collapse upon his desk.
He had much to discuss with his wife tonight.
A/N: It was interesting for me to explore the themes of pride and of prejudice in the context of this story. I know I caused my own parents plenty of heartaches back in the day. I hope I conveyed Darcy and Elizabeth's perspectives well!