The Countess of Matlock - Lady Penelope Fitzwilliam - or Penny, as her family called her, watched as a despondent Darcy walked into the breakfast parlor, eyes glued to the floor. Baran followed at his heels lethargically, his mood tending to mirror that of his Master. She shared an apprehensive look with her husband, The Earl of Matlock - Lord Andrew Fitzwilliam - as well as her two sons, Lawrence - the Viscount of Ashbourne - and Richard.
Though Darcy was often reserved in public, amongst close friends and family, his disposition was more akin to Richard's. He would laugh and joke with them, play with the children, and make conversation. One could scarcely find better company, given he was comfortable around you. Now, however, something was very wrong.
The Fitzwilliams and Darcys were as close as two families could be, yet, in the three weeks they had been at Pemberley, not one of them had gotten so much as a smile out of him. Not even Vincent and Juliana could break the man's melancholy. Penny had never seen her dear nephew so altered. His almost bereaved manner reminded her of George's after he had lost his wife - her sister-in-law, Anne. The resemblance was more distressing than she could put into words.
Even his appearance was similar - he looked almost sickly. He had lost weight, and there were dark bags under his woebegone eyes. His face, which now sported an ever-present pallor, was often unshaven, and there were times when Penny swore she could see tear-stains on his cheeks. He would sit lost in thought almost the entire time he was in company and would take his leave as soon as propriety allowed. Darcy was clearly a man in the depths of despair, yet he refused to speak of his problems - in fact, he barely spoke at all unless spoken to. What had happened? Why did he only seem to be getting worse? None of the Fitzwilliams wanted to pressure him into speaking on a subject he clearly wished to avoid, but something had to be done. They needed to know what troubled him.
Penny watched as he sat down at the head of the table and stared at his food, making no move to eat it - an act that had become something of a habit for him. She looked imploringly towards Richard, who nodded quietly before addressing his cousin.
"Well, Fitz, will you be joining us today?" He asked, attempting to sound jovial and unconcerned.
Darcy blinked at him for a moment, trying to register the words. "Where?"
"Fishing, man! We talked of it yesterday. Father, Lawrence, and I wish to head to the trout stream. The clouds have dispersed, and it would be a shame to spend such a lovely day inside."
Before Darcy could respond in the negative, the door burst open, and in walked Elinor - Lawrence's wife - followed by their two giggling children. Richard saw his opportunity and lept at it.
"You know, I am sure Vincent would love to join us. Would you like to come fishing with us, lad? You're much too old to stay inside all day!"
The five-year-old beamed, puffing out his chest at the compliment before running to his father. "Can I? Please? I swear I'll be good, Papa!"
"Of course you can, my boy," Lawrence responded, lifting his son onto his lap. "So long as your mother agrees, of course. What do you say, dear?"
Elinor smiled at her husband and son. "Ah, I am outnumbered! How could I refuse the two of you?"
Darcy's chest squeezed painfully as he watched the domestic scene unfold before him, and the band around his heart tightened further. He could not help feeling envious of their happiness, much as he loved them. When Elinor bent down to kiss her husband's cheek, Darcy stood abruptly, the legs of his chair scraping against the floor at a volume that had everyone's attention on him.
"I beg you would excuse me," he said brusquely, cursing his haste. "I have work to do." With that, he walked quickly out the door, barely even acknowledging his sister as she entered the room.
They all waited silently for a moment, listening to the retreating footsteps. With much trepidation, Georgiana asked, "What happened?"
"I do not know," Andrew responded, looking towards his wife. "Lawrence and Richard were simply speaking of fishing. Surely, that would not provoke such a display?"
Georgiana glanced back towards the door. She had never seen her brother so disconsolate, and it dismayed her greatly. She had hoped that having the Fitzwilliams around would enliven him a bit, as she remembered the comfort they had provided after the death of their father. This time, however, their presence only seemed to make him retreat further into himself, and Georgiana could not account for it. As far as she knew, nothing had happened to cause a rift within their small family, and Aunt Penny certainly would have told her if something had occurred.
"Is Uncle Fitz alright?" A small voice asked, breaking the silence.
Everyone turned toward four-year-old Juliana, who was gazing at the door with worried eyes. She was unused to such outbursts, especially from her Uncle Fitz, who was always everything cheerful around her and her brother.
"Yes, dear girl," her grandfather responded, rising from his chair. "However, I think your grandmother and I need to discuss some things with your parents. Vincent, would you mind putting our fishing trip on hold?"
The young boy shook his head in response, though Andrew noticed the slight pout on his lips.
"Good lad," he praised warmly. "We can always count on you. Georgie, do you suppose Mrs. Annesley could watch the children for a bit? I would like to speak with the rest of you."
Andrew knew that Lawrence and Elinor detested leaving their children in the care of the staff, just as he had hated doing so with his sons when they were young. However, a discussion needed to be had, and Andrew did not think it appropriate for the young ones.
Georgiana quickly called for her companion, who escorted the young children out, leaving her and Fitzwilliams alone.
The room was quiet. Everyone knew, of course, what needed to be said, but none knew how to begin. The subject had been broached before to no avail. However, all could sense that they were at the tipping point. Darcy seemed to be edging towards the precipice of an abyss - something had to be done and done quickly.
As the one to call the meeting, Andrew took it upon himself to speak first, though what he said was tremendously uninsightful.
"We need to speak with Fitzwilliam."
"We've tried!" His wife exclaimed. "He will not tell us what is wrong."
"Richard," Andrew addressed, "you said that you first noticed his strange behavior on your way back from Rosings, did you not?"
"Yes, he was silent the entire ride back. At first, he seemed to be fuming, but it eventually morphed into his present sorrow. I could not even get him to make sport of Aunt Catherine's ridiculous behavior! That seldom fails."
"You do not think Catherine did something, do you?" Penny asked. "I know your visits with her can be trying, but Fitzwilliam assured us that she could no longer get under his skin."
"I doubt very much Aunt Catherine was the cause. Her deportment was no different than it usually is. If anything, she spoke even less to Darcy than is her wont, as she was quite busy trying to disparage her other guests."
"The Collinses?" Georgiana asked.
"Well, yes, but mostly Miss Elizabeth."
At the mere mention of that name, realization dawned on the youngest of the room's occupants. "Miss Elizabeth?" Georgiana cried. "Miss Elizabeth Bennet? From Hertfordshire?" She had heard Richard speak quite fondly of a Miss Bennet at Rosings, but she had not yet made the connection. Miss Bennet was Miss Elizabeth - the Miss Elizabeth her brother had written about at Netherfield! Whenever Darcy mentioned a Miss Bennet, it was always in reference to the older sister. He had never referred to Miss Elizabeth as Miss Bennet. Therefore, Georgiana had assumed that it was Jane Bennet who had been at Rosings. But it was Elizabeth! Was that what he was so upset about? Had something happened with her? Or, God forbid, to her?
The Fitzwilliams were taken aback by Georgiana's exclamation and watched the wild movement of her eyes as she pieced everything together. Finally, Penny asked, "Georgie, do you know Miss Elizabeth?"
"Yes! I mean...no, not personally. Fitzwilliam often wrote of her while he was staying with Mr. Bingley at Netherfield. I feel as though I know her quite well."
"I do not think he has ever mentioned her to us," Penelope commented, absorbed in thought. "However, the name sounds oddly familiar. I cannot think where I have heard it before."
"Indeed it does," her husband agreed. "Perhaps he actually did speak of her, offhandedly, if nothing else."
"I think we would remember such an occasion," she rejoined. "We have been waiting for the right woman to come along for him!"
Andrew and Penny knew how important it was that Darcy find someone to love. He had lost so much early in his life, and they had both experienced first-hand how such a bond could affect someone. There was a connection in marriage one could never quite achieve through blood alone. The person you married - a person who knew all of your faults and weaknesses - chose to be with you. They wanted to tie themself to you for eternity. It was not a connection bourne of obligation. That kind of love, when done right, was the most extraordinary experience a person could have. That kind of love left an everlasting mark. Andrew and Penny desperately wanted such happiness for their nephew, and they had no doubt that he would make an excellent husband.
The trouble, however, was finding the right woman. Darcy needed someone who would love him in return. Him. Not his money. Not his station. Not his estate. Just him. To them, searching the Ton was out of the question. Penelope more-or-less knew every woman of a marriageable age in their London sphere, either by direct acquaintance or reputation. She was wholly unimpressed and, in some cases, appalled by what she saw. The majority of them were cloying sycophants, constantly striving to attach themselves to the wealthiest person in the room. Those that were genuinely sincere she found to be intolerably dull. The Earl and Countess counted themselves extraordinarily lucky that Lawrence had found Elinor, and they doubted that they would be so fortunate again. Their nephew needed someone who would excite and challenge him. He needed to marry someone he could be friends with. No, the women of the Ton would never do.
"Did he seem to fancy this Miss Elizabeth, Richard?" Lawrence queried.
"I daresay he did. He spent a great deal of time staring at her and seemed to go out of his way to be in her company. He often insisted that we call at Hunsford, and I know perfectly well that it was not to see that prat of a parson."
"What about her?" Georgiana asked, eyes full of curiosity. "Did she seem fond of him?" With the way her brother had spoken about Miss Elizabeth in his letters, Georgiana had been quite disappointed when he returned to Town without so much as a courtship.
"I...no, actually. I think she rather disliked Darcy."
"Disliked him!?" Georgiana exclaimed, incensed at the news. "Why would she dislike him!?"
Richard held his hands up in mock surrender, chuckling at his cousin. "I do not know why. She simply made a comment about how his behavior in Hertfordshire would shock and offend his relations."
"She did not elaborate further?" Penny questioned, quite surprised that her nephew would do anything to deliberately offend.
"Only that he did not dance enough...though she seemed such a reasonable, intelligent woman - I can not imagine that she would be affronted by something so insignificant as that."
"Do you think something happened with Miss Elizabeth? Is that why Fitzwilliam is so dispirited?" Elinor inquired.
"Again, I do not know. I find it odd that, other than writing to Georgie, he would not mention her to any of us. You know he wishes to marry, after all."
"Perhaps he was struggling with his feelings?" Andrew suggested. "Although, if he likes this girl, I can not imagine why he would. She is a gentleman's daughter, is she not?"
Both Richard and Georgiana nodded, but Georgiana recalled something mentioned in one of her brother's letters.
"I believe he dislikes her family," she stated.
"Why? Have they done something?" Penny asked. Her nephew was a man of strong moral character, so it would certainly explain his hesitation.
"I do not think so, no. He mentioned them only briefly, but I believe it was their behavior that disconcerted him. He said that the two eldest sisters were everything lovely, but the others were obstreperous. Apparently, their mother was even worse."
"But he would not be marrying her family!" Penelope argued. "Surely, that alone would not dissuade him?"
Richard thought silently for a moment. There was another reason that came to mind, though he had a hard time believing that his cousin would disregard his feelings because of it. He almost did not want to mention it to his family, as it sounded rather accusatory, but he figured that, if they were to help him, he had much better lay all his cards on the table.
"I do know…," Richard hesitated, biting his lip. "I know that her family is not wealthy. I believe she has a very small dowry. Lord knows Aunt Catherine broached the subject many times."
Penny started at her son's words, looking at him in bewilderment. "You do not think he would care for that, do you? He already has far more money than he knows what to do with. What need has he for an heiress?"
Richard grew silent once again, attempting to sort his thoughts. The Colonel loved his cousin, but he was not blind to his faults. He knew that, over the years, Darcy had grown to think ill of those not within his close family circle. Although he was an attentive, caring Master and an excellent landlord who respected his staff and tenants, Darcy tended to think himself above those outside of his sphere - or those who did not work for him, at least. If he did not know them, and they did not depend on him in some way, he rarely gave them a second thought.
It had not always been that way. With each punch life threw at Darcy, he seemed to grow more distanced from those not among his close acquaintance, becoming increasingly misanthropic with every strike. When his mother died, he retreated into himself, taking comfort only in his remaining family. When his father died, and the responsibilities of the Darcy name fell to him, he did the same, though to an even greater extent. When Georgiana almost eloped with Wickham, Darcy seemed to lose all faith in those he did not know. Suddenly, no one was to be trusted, and people outside of his acquaintance were barely worth his notice.
Life had not been easy for Fitzwilliam Darcy, and, with each hardship, he seemed to lose himself further, closing his heart to those outside his family. It was an easy trap to fall into. Having spent a great deal of time in the army, Richard had witnessed many a man become embittered to the world. When faced with hardship, especially the loss of life, it was often difficult to remember that the world itself was not to blame, nor were the people in it. Death, cruel as it seems, is natural, and the best way to honor those who have passed is by continuing to live a good life. Nothing good can come from being consumed by rancor and resentment.
Soon, Richard was awash with guilt. Why had he not said something to Darcy? He knew his cousin's behavior, while understandable, was unpardonable. Yet, he kept silent. Darcy was a good man, but even the best of men could be led astray. What would have happened had he reprimanded him once or twice. Surely, Darcy would have listened, for he still greatly valued the opinions of his close friends and family. Could they have helped him?
"Richard?" His mother asked, uneasy with his sudden change in demeanor. "What is wrong?"
Richard looked at his family. Yes, they could have - should have - helped Darcy. They should have reminded him that the expectations held by the Ton were not the same as those held by his family. They, who knew how good he truly was - how amiable he could be amongst friends - should have encouraged amenity while discouraging his blatant disregard for the people around him. While Darcy would likely never be verbose amongst strangers, he could certainly be reservedly charming and polite.
It suddenly occurred to Richard that, since the death of his father, Darcy had been stumbling around blind. He had always excelled in his duties, so they all simply assumed he did not need guidance. But what person wouldn't need guidance? Even the most senior members of the House of Lords turned to somebody. Yet, Darcy's own family had left him to his own devices for so long, he no longer knew what they expected of him. He did not know who he was supposed to be.
Finally, in a soft, quiet voice very much unlike his own, Richard spoke, "We have failed him."
"What do you mean?" Penny asked, her worry elevating to anxiety. How had they failed her nephew?
"Think about his behavior, Mother. Surely, you can see the change! He disregards anyone unconnected to him, and we have said nothing. What is he supposed to think? In all likelihood, it has never occurred to him that we disagree with his behavior - behavior, I remind you, that is similar to that of the Ton, which we so often disparage. He has no way of knowing what we actually expect of him because we have been completely silent on the matter. We know he is a good man, but we have done nothing to encourage that behavior in the presence of others. Yes, we have failed him most miserably!"
The room's occupants stared at Richard, absorbing all he had said. Soon, every single person was racked with guilt. How had they been so blind? Why had they never said anything? They, who prided themselves on familial closeness, had effectively abandoned Darcy. They had not guided him or corrected him. Instead, they left him to fend for himself. The realization was equal parts mortifying and humbling.
Andrew attempted to put the pieces together... There was a woman who his nephew liked - maybe even loved. She was not wealthy or well-connected, and Darcy did not know what they expected for him in marriage. The Earl of Matlock could come to only one conclusion.
"He does not think we would approve of her."
"I beg your pardon?" Penny questioned, still reeling from her son's speech.
"He loves Miss Elizabeth, but he does not think we would approve of her connections and small dowry," he explained, informing himself as much as his wife.
"But that is not true! We want him to marry for love!"
"Indeed we do, but how is he to know that? As Richard said, we have done nothing to discourage his recent behavior. He likely thinks we believe ourselves above a lowly country miss and would never accept her into the family. You know he would do anything for us, even at the risk of his own happiness."
Penelope shot up from her seat and slammed her hands onto the table. "Well then, we must straighten this out immediately. If he loves this girl, we will support him in his efforts to win her hand. We must tell him so."
Before her family could respond, Penny rang for a servant. "Please tell Fitzwilliam to meet us in the green drawing room on business that cannot be delayed."
"My dear," Andrew said after the servant bowed and left, "you are a force to be reckoned with."
"I cannot believe we have been such poor relatives," she said ashamedly. They truly had been shirking their duty to their family.
Andrew sighed heavily and kissed his wife on the cheek. "There is no use ruminating on the past. We can only strive to better the future."
"In the future, he will be happy," Penny said with a firm resolve.
"You have declared it, my love, and so it shall be."
