Much to George Darcy's dismay, his wife was at Matlock for over a year before he was convinced of her resolve. She returned to Pemberley on occasion to fulfill commitments within the community, but the children were never with her. When they met, they continued to disagree - on many things, not just George Wickham - but he knew this could not continue. He missed his family. Finally admitting to himself she would not relent, he decided to try to make some sort of amends. He would go to her after the school term started.
"A bluff, I should have known." Mr. Darcy spied his wife and son, along with her brother, Hugh Fitzwilliam, Viscount Ely, and her nephew, Richard, when he took George to Eton. Knowing she had not the will to back up her bold words of last year, strengthened his own resolve. "Harrow or Westminster, indeed." Unfortunately, he had no opportunity to gloat, as quickly as he saw them, he lost sight of them in the crowd.
Instead of seeking out his wife, he returned to Pemberley, alone. He had never had so much time to himself. The estate was running as smoothly as it ever had. Profits were at an all-time high. He had taken to visiting the tenants more often just for the company. He remained locked into an existence of righteous solitude.
He did receive regular correspondence from his wife, updating him on the activities of William and 'Ana' as she had taken to calling Georgiana. Her letters occasionally included one from William. They were hasty and superficial, obviously written out of a sense of obligation. That his wife did not cut contact did not surprise him. Her sense of duty was always something he admired about her. He also thought she took some satisfaction in behaving so rationally, as if to thumb her nose at those who might consider her actions those of an overwrought female.
George wrote but rarely, usually asking for an increase in his allowance. Nonexistent were reports of William's marks. He had received notice of George's rather lackluster progress for each term but nothing of William's. He imagined his wife had the school direct them to her.
When he finally received news of William from Eton, he was incensed. The communication was from owner of a stable in the village. He had, apparently, come to an agreement with his son for private use of his finest horse, payment to be received at the midpoint of each term. Payment had yet to be tendered for these first two terms, but the stable owner had let it pass based on the reputation of the Darcy family. He had no doubt the heir of Pemberley (or his father) would make good his accounts. However, of greater concern was condition of the animal. It was often raced hard, without proper attention to the health of the beast, and showed signs of the whip. Not an uncommon practice for sons of the ton but usually not exhibited by one of such tender years.
Through his fury, there was something niggling at the back of Mr. Darcy's mind. This was so unlike William. If ever there was a boy born for the saddle it was William. He was gentle and careful with animals. He took pride in finessing the natural abilities of horse as well as his own skills. William was also well aware of the cost, both in pounds and effort, of acquiring and training a horse. He would never compromise the stable owner's means of income for such a selfish reason.
Now, something else was niggling at the back of his mind…
~~PoR~~
Anne Darcy remained at Matlock until the next year when it was time for Fitzwilliam to start school. They made for London with her father, Lionel Fitzwilliam, Earl of Matlock, when the season started. Upon her arrival she spent a few days at Darcy House to see to the staff, gather some belongings, and redirect her correspondence to her childhood home.
She was enjoying the season. It was nice to see friends and partake in the city's myriad entertainments, all while deftly navigating the questions and rumors. Why was she in London without her husband? Why was she staying at the Matlock home rather than Darcy House? She acknowledged the estrangement but offered little else by way of explanation. The ton was at a loss. She was as cheerful and pleasant as ever, but she was also present. She was not hiding away or putting on a brave face. She seemed to be flourishing which confused her acquaintances. It was well known hers was a love match, would not she be more stoic or forlorn if her marriage was in peril. Though the ton was practically gasping in want of gossip as if it were water, the fervor eventually died down.
Mrs. Darcy also enjoyed being with her father. This was an unexpected benefit to this whole mess. She knew her father was lonely since her mother's passing six years ago. They could provide company and support for one another, and her children bonded with their grandfather as they might not have done otherwise. And now, on this quiet Sunday at home, she was content.
The butler interrupted their drawing room tranquility, bringing a silver tray with a card to his master.
"Callers on a Sunday?" Lord Matlock looked at the card and sighed. "Your husband is calling. Do you want to see him?" he asked his daughter.
"Of course, please show him in, Mr. Neill," Anne said.
"Make him wait a bit," Lord Matlock suggested.
"Yes, my lord. Should I fetch Master William?"
"Not just yet, you might alert him to his father's presence in the house, though."
"Yes, Ms. Darcy." Lord Matlock winced, as he had a tendency to do whenever he heard his daughter referred to as Mrs. Darcy.
"After so many years, I think you should be used to it by now, Papa."
"I may be used to it, but that does not mean I have to like it. Your title is Lady Anne. It was not for your husband to persuade you otherwise."
"I married George Darcy because I loved him. I wanted to be his helpmeet and it made me happy to bear the name Mrs. Darcy. I thought it would unite us even more. And it was my own desire to do so, not my husband's. He is to blame for many things, but this is not one of them. I do not require titles or formal modes of address. You should know that."
"It is simply not done," he replied.
"It is done. It is done by me. Perhaps I shall start a trend among the ton." She laughed at her father's horrified expression. "Do not worry, it is only within the safe environs of home that I allow it. I do not present myself to the world as Ms. Darcy. I am not quite that scandalous."
"I cannot believe that man had the nerve to imply you were a snob."
"I should not have told you that. It was not well done of me to share my marital arguments with you."
"You were right to do so. Your mama is gone but I am still here, and you may tell me anything. It is lucky for Darcy, though, that I have no power to sentence anyone to the Tower. You should avoid mentioning it to your brother, however."
They continued their conversation and some twenty minutes later, the butler escorted Mr. Darcy into the room.
"Darcy, to what do we owe the pleasure?" Lord Matlock's tone suggested it was anything but a pleasure.
"I wanted to see my wife and daughter. And I have something very important to discuss regarding William. I just need to clarify something."
"You do not wish to see William? You only wish to discuss him?" asked Ms. Darcy.
"I would like to see William, very much so, but he is at Eton."
"Why on earth would he be at Eton?" Lord Matlock asked to Mr. Darcy's great confusion.
"Does George Wickham still attend Eton?" Mrs. Darcy asked.
"You know he does," Mr. Darcy replied.
"Then why would you believe William attends there as well? I told you I would do what you would not, and I have kept my word. In order to protect my son from him, I placed William in another school."
"But we both saw you there just before start of term." Mr. Darcy's tone was tinged with uncertainty.
"We accompanied Hugh when he took Richard. It is a shame William could not attend school with his cousin because you place that murderous little ruffian ahead of your own son."
In the past, such an insult to George would have sparked an argument, but now his mind was busy contemplating this intelligence in context with the information he had received from the stable owner. Only now did it occur to him that if William were at Eton, he would have had his own animal stabled nearby, just as he himself did when he went to Eton and as Richard most likely did at present. He had not made any arrangements for such a luxury on George's behalf. It had slipped his mind, preoccupied as he was with his wife's behavior.
She now interrupted his thoughts with a question. "What is it you wish to discuss regarding William?"
He knew he could not state his original purpose or else bear is wife's wrath. He had much to consider regarding the stable owner's allegations as it was obvious that William was not the culprit. Luckily, there was another legitimate question he could ask to explain his presence. "I have heard nothing of William's performance thus far this year. You have only said he is doing well. Before I ask after his marks and activities, I would like to know what institution he is attending."
"As your man of business can attest, William attends Westminster. Did you not think to ask? Hardly the actions of a savvy gentleman," she tsked. "I had thought to fund all of William's educational needs myself but as you have already relinquished so much of your responsibility to your children, I thought it only right that you be accountable in this matter, especially considering you are doing so for George. Oh, if you do speak with your man, you might want to make sure that George is not abusing your generosity."
There was a quick knock on the door, which opened immediately to reveal a gangly, dark-haired youth holding a little girl of eighteen months. When Mr. Neill notified him of his father's presence, William had decided he would not wait to be summoned and he would support his mother as well as he could.
"William! Georgie! Look how you have both grown." Mr. Darcy was immediately on his feet and went to engulf them both in a hug. William took a step to the side, avoiding his father's gesture. His sister clung to him, tucking her face into his neck.
"That does tend to happen. I imagine it seems more pronounced after a lengthy absence." The boy looked at his father warily. "You should know that we call my sister Ana." As everyone's attention turned to the little girl, she was looking around the room at its occupants. Spotting her grandfather, she shifted her weight and leaned toward him.
"Papapa!" A small smile showed on Lord Matlock's face as he reached for his granddaughter. He might have been embarrassed if one of his peers in the Lords overheard the name Ana had given him, pronounced PAW-pa-paw, but truth was, he cherished it. And if he should derive any petty pleasure that the children showed their preference for his presence over their own father's, he was sure his daughter would understand.
As Lord Matlock kept Ana occupied, William sat down by his mother. He had listened at the door for a few moments before knocking so he was well aware of the conversation between his parents. "I am doing very well at Westminster. Without the legacy of the Darcy's or the Fitzwilliam's to aid me, or the comfort of having Richard nearby, it was a bit more challenging, but I have made a place for myself. And as I said, I am doing very well; I am at the top of my class. Do you wish me to display for you?" William made no attempt to hide his bitterness. "However, I cannot believe interest in my marks is enough to warrant a visit when so little I do warrants any interest from you."
"William," Mrs. Darcy said in quiet chastisement. It struck her how much older he appeared in the presence of his father. "Be polite."
"I am perfectly polite, Mama. I am also perfectly truthful." William looked at his father expectantly.
"Should you not be at the school?" Mr. Darcy asked foolishly, not realizing how it would sound.
"I was granted permission to come home for the day. It is grandfather's birthday. I must return before evening services. If you do not wish to see me, I shall excuse myself to my room." William's equanimity unsettled him, as did the boy's formality with him.
"No, no, stay. It is true I wondered about your studies, but I was also concerned how you are getting along at school. It is a big change this first year." He grew increasingly uneasy under his son's intense scrutiny. He even felt the urge to tug at has cravat such was his discomfort.
"Let me guess, you and George saw me at Eton when we dropped off Richard and assumed I was going there too. George, then, felt free to give my name in case he got into a scrape. If you received a letter saying Fitzwilliam Darcy broke a window or harassed a villager, you would no doubt believe the deed to be mine." Mr. Darcy's face reddened a bit as that, indeed, almost happened. Thank God for that niggling in his mind that stalled an outright accusation. "George always was stupid. Eton is not so large that we could have avoided each other so completely and for such a length of time. His ploy would have been discovered soon enough. So, what did he do?"
Mr. Darcy was at a loss for words. His son took his silence in a way he did not intend. "Benefit of the doubt to George again, is that it? No matter, Richard will ferret it out if I ask."
William got up and held out his hand. "Ana, come, I will take you back to Nurse and then read you a story. She will be wondering what we are up to." Ana stopped chattering with her grandfather and toddled over to her brother, taking his hand.
"Goodbye, Father," William said as he exited the room.
Ana, in turn, mimicked William's grave tone, "Goodbye, fodder." She, however, left with a cheery wave to all.
"I did not even get to hold Georgi…ana. Ana. I did not get to hold her or tell her I love her," Mr. Darcy still watched at the door through which his children just exited.
"Do you love her?" Mrs. Darcy asked.
"Of course!" Mr. Darcy was adamant.
"Yet that love is not strong enough for you to discard George Wickham."
"That sounds so cold, 'discard'. He is a boy not a newspaper."
"You always do that. You can never address the real problem. You simply deflect. Unlike you, I am not afraid of being straightforward. You need to believe me when I say that the children come first. As much as I love you, I cannot tolerate this relationship you have with that boy when it puts them in danger. I will not come home to you until he is out of your life for good. And even then, it will never be the same."
"William hates me," Mr. Darcy said much to his wife's disgruntlement. Once again, he avoided the issue at hand.
"William does not hate you; he loves you. However, he does not trust you and, by your actions, he knows not to rely on you."
"I cannot banish George from Pemberley. His mother still lives there. And I promised to see to his future."
"It would be helpful if you would both stay on the same thread of the conversation. All this back and forth gets you nowhere." They had almost forgotten that Lord Matlock remained in the room. "Unless you tell us otherwise, William is the heir to Pemberley. Your energies should be focused on his education and preparing him to become master one day. Promises are broken every day. And in my mind, the promise you made before God when you made my daughter your wife, far outweighs the promises you made to your steward."
"I…Anne…it is not so simple," Mr. Darcy could not meet his wife's eyes
"I think it is time you leave, Darcy. You can show yourself out."