Darcy slowly wandered to the family dining-room, deep in thought. His cousin's plight had shaken him. Sure, he had always known her as sickly and quiet, and it had been very early on that Fitzwilliam and he had dismissed her as a worthy playmate. Little Annie never engaged in anything – where was the fun in that?
But now he understood. She could not, on the fear of death. The poor girl. What a way to live your life. Or rather: waste your life…
He pondered if there was not something he could do for her. So many revolutionary discoveries were made about the human body every day. Surely someone must be working on a cure for a weak heart? Perhaps he could inquire with Dr. Harris, if he was aware of anything of the sort.
And of course Anne could come and live at Pemberley if she wished to. They had room to spare here as it was; Georgie and he were positively rattling around in this large mansion. Though maybe not right away – Anne did seem rather fond of her mother, and he really had no wish to have his imperious aunt living with them. But maybe once Aunt Cathy died? It sounded as if Anne would much prefer for her De Bourgh cousin to take over Rosings right away then. And it certainly made sense to do so, in her condition.
Well, once that came to pass, she was more than welcome at Pemberley, and he would make sure she would receive the very best of care. He would go and tell her later; it might set her mind at ease regarding what would happen to her upon her mother's death. After all, Aunt Cathy must be approaching her sixties already; she was the eldest of her generation Fitzwilliam siblings.
He came to a halt in front of the door to the dining-room. From within, he heard his aunt pontificating on some topic or other.
And he sighed. No, he really did not want his aunt to come and live at Pemberley. As Fitzwilliam said, it was time to show her who was the master of this house.
He closed his eyes for a moment to gather the necessary strength and courage to face down his aunt, and opened the door.
The tableau that greeted him was not what he expected, and he stiffened two steps into the room.
"You are late," Aunt Catherine intoned with a clear note of rebuke.
He made no reply, but his eyes darkened as he took in the scene before him.
His aunt throned at the mistress's head of the table – the seat no one had occupied since his mother had passed away.
She gestured condescendingly for him to take the empty seat on her left, next to Georgiana. The two seats opposite were empty; presumably meant for Cousin Anne and her companion, though in the state he had just left them, he doubted they would be down for breakfast.
Next to Georgie sat Uncle Matlock, and across from him, Fitzwilliam looked as if he had just been forcefully chastised. And standing by the sideboard, a maid and a footman looked rather subdued.
Fitzwilliam was right: he had to take a stand.
Now.
Slowly, without a word, he walked to the place his aunt had indicated for him. His smouldering eyes never left her face as she proceeded to lecture him on the virtue of punctuality and the proper attention to houseguests. Only when he reached the table and began to gather up his place setting did she abort her supercilious monologue.
"Nephew, what is the meaning of this? Sit down immediately!"
Instead, he tacitly walked away with his place setting, and began to set it out at the opposite head of the table – the master's place.
"Come back here at once!" his aunt ordered. "Have you no respect for rank and seniority? You young people are all the same: do as you please, and to blazes with etiquette and propriety! But not in this house, you hear me?"
Having completed the arrangement of his place setting, Darcy slowly lifted his eyes – straight into his aunt's flashing ones across the length of the table. "Aunt," he spoke dangerously low, "This is my house. My table. I will sit where I jolly well please."
His aunt spluttered in protest, but he continued undeterred, "Furthermore, as master of this house, this is my rightful place according to proper etiquette. And in absence of a mistress, the master assigns the seating for the guests. If anyone at this table is flouting the rules of etiquette, it most certainly is not me."
The silence was deafening as he remained in a cold staredown with his aunt.
It was broken by Fitzwilliam, when he noisily pushed back his chair. "You are correct, Darcy. I applaud your strict adherence to proper etiquette at the breakfast table. And I beg your forgiveness for having given in to erroneous demands." With a triumphant smirk, he picked up his loaded plate and moved it up the table to the place at Darcy's right hand, followed by moving his cutlery and cup and saucer.
Darcy gave him an imperceptible nod, before assessing the reactions from the others.
Aunt Catherine looked like she was working up steam for a monumental outburst.
Uncle Matlock had a clear glint in his eye – he seemed to approve of his nephew's first act of defiance.
And Georgie…
"Georgiana." He gestured to the seat on his left – Georgie's usual place.
With huge unsure eyes, she looked between her brother's suddenly commanding presence at one end of the table, and her Aunt Catherine's venomous glare at the other.
"This is your rightful place at this table, Sister," Darcy said with deceptive quiescence. "And do not let anyone tell you otherwise. James?"
The footman quickly took Georgie's plate and place setting, and with an unmistakable little smile, he moved it to the place his master had indicated, at Uncle Matlock's right hand.
"Georgiana?"
For a moment, Georgie seemed torn. But after one last glance at her aunt's thunderous face, she quickly scurried to her brother's side, immediately making herself as small as possible in her seat as if to hide from her aunt's certain wrath.
Now that she was left all on her own at her end of the table, Aunt Catherine opened her mouth to voice her undoubtedly vehement displeasure.
But Darcy cut her off before she could start. "I will not subject you to the indignity of moving to your proper place now, Aunt. But in future when you join me for a meal at this table, you will kindly be seated in the place I assign you." He pointed to the seat next to her brother that Georgiana had just vacated.
"Insolence!" his aunt spat.
Darcy raised a sarcastic eyebrow. "Of course, if you have trouble adhering to proper etiquette, you are always welcome to take your meals in your room."
Hot-tempered, Aunt Catherine gestured for James to pull out her chair as she stood. "Well, we will see about that," she barked, before striding out of the room with her head held high.
The moment the door fell shut, Darcy sagged and fell down in his seat.
But Fitzwilliam was already on his feet, thumping his shoulder in vigorous enthusiasm. "That, my friend, was bloody magnificent! Now that was the true master of Pemberley speaking!"
His father frowned at him. "Richard, mind your language, will you? There is a young lady present." But at the same time, he offered his hand to Darcy. "Congratulations, Nephew. Clearly, you have the necessary mettle for the task ahead."
"Yeah, well…" Darcy raked his fingers through his hair. The confrontation had left him totally drained, and he gratefully accepted the cup of coffee the grinning maid – Maddy – handed him.
"Well done, Master," she breathed.
And Georgiana asked tentatively, "Will you be sitting here now then?"
Darcy heaved a sigh. "I think I had better, pet, if I am to carry my point with Aunt Catherine." His eyes sought hers. "Does it still bother you?"
Georgiana had to think on that for a moment, but then she shook her head. "Not as much as Aunt Catherine sitting in Mother's place."
"Perfect," Fitzwilliam grinned. "That should please Aunt Cathy to no end; she so loves to be useful."
Darcy chuckled at that, and stretched his arms over his head. "But first breakfast now," he announced. "This battle has left me positively famished!"
.
Author's Note: Well, there you go - Darcy is finally standing up to his aunt! Though I'm fairly certain he hasn't "cowed" her yet - there are bound to be more confrontations coming up soon. We will see what happens!
And a little clarification for practical reasons: I envision the table in the family dining-room as seating ten: master and mistress each at their head of the table, and four places on each of the long sides.