Thank you for all of your thoughts and prayers. They are very much appreciated.

I forgot to add this to the previous chapter:

Handing her a letter, her aunt said, "Before I forget, this arrived for you yesterday." Thinking it nothing more than a letter from home Elizabeth tucked it in her reticle without so much as inspecting the hand with which it was addressed.

The above a happened as Elizabeth left the Gardiner's.

Chapter 23

Now resenting himself for the short walk that had restored his confidence, Darcy arrived home. Would that I had not meandered. The very activity that restored my confidence may well have been my undoing. It was apparent, even to Darcy, that he had arrived at precisely the wrong time to achieve his aim. The couple had clearly just begun the conversation that would facilitate their reconciliation. Would that I had arrived just before Bingley and was able to assure Miss Bennet that I would see to it that his circles supported the match. He had detected no grasping about the young lady, she had seemed sincere; her concern was the break with those closest to him not their consequence in society.

As he entered, he was immediately accosted by his butler. "The Earl of Matlock is waiting for you sir."

Darcy cringed, not knowing to which of his aunts he owed this pleasure. "Have you told him I am not at home?"

"Indeed, sir, but he insisted upon waiting for you. I have put him in the morning room."

Thinking it likely only Lady Catherine could cause him to refuse to return home until he was heard, Darcy said. "I will see him in my study."

Darcy braced himself for some representation of events that resembled nothing close to the facts as his uncle entered. Only waiting until the door was closed, his uncle said, "I suspect you have guessed my sister has been to see me. I suppose I should be grateful that I need not worry your absence from the brothels, that having no mistress, meant you might frequent the molly houses instead."

No amount of ingrained respect for cleanliness and order could prevent what happened next: Darcy spit his French brandy. The earl waved his hand but did not wave away they offense, and instead only added to Darcy's feeling affronted. "Any chance of making this girl from trade a wife in watercolors instead?" Darcy colored an angry red, and the earl answered his own question. "I suppose not, she would have been from too good a family to have encountered you in society. You must see you cannot marry her, though I happy to see some creature could finally tempt you."

Darcy was livid. They had some version of this conversation on previous occasions. Their understanding of right and wrong, their understanding of the privileges and responsibilities of their rank, their way of seeing the world, was just too different. Darcy would not bother to impress upon him what his father had instilled in him: It was wrong and dangerous. Countless orphans in London suffered from rickets, they were ill feed, ill cared for, ill nourished. They were not orphans at all, they merely had no one willing or able to take responsibility for them, could not know who their fathers were. His income could provide for a mistress and offspring, but they would forever be outside of good society. Plenty of virgin brides suffered from syphilis a short time after they were united in matrimony, their husbands waving it off as part of their duty. Then there was how those women got there, many of them taken advantage of in some way that put them out of good society whether or not they were complicit.

It had caused a break between his own parents, when his mother found out it mattered not that his father had already quite his mistress. By the time the elder Darcy recognized the affection he felt for his wife, it was too late, he had paid the woman and permanently taken his leave. She kept returning to him for money, when he finally put a stop to it, she had written his wife with her story, which was, in fairness, entirely worthy of pity. She had been minor gentry and was impressed upon—against her will—in a manner that ruined her in the eyes of society, though she was not actually ruined. It was her cry for help that had damned her, the rogue would not marry her, and she was put out to save her family's reputation, leaving her only one option to save herself. Having been lucky enough to find a kind gentle man to take her in, she was further along in years when Darcy's father broke it off, with no idea how to procure another gentleman, having never participated in the kind of society that would have given her other options. She had lived a quiet life, always having been ashamed of her disgrace, and the elder Mr. Darcy had always wished to be discreet, even before he was wed. The matter had induced a break between his parents that caused a ten year age gap between himself and his only sibling. His father had bitterly regretted the heartbreak he had cause his wife, even until his death. They had reconciled eventually, she saw it as her duty, as they had no spare, but she had never looked at him the same again. She was civil and kind, but never showed warmth or affection toward her husband again. His mother went to her reward as a consequence of Georgiana's birth; his father grieved himself to death slowly. His father was clear: The privileges of his station would come at a cost if he indulged them and may very well be paid by those less fortunate. Additionally, he was the only male heir, if he caught a disease he could marry and infect a wife or fail in his duty to pass on his legacy.

Knowing his uncle could not be brought to considerer the suffering of those outside his circles, Darcy said, "My aunt is miss informed, I had no intention of making the young lady my wife, she is merely the sister of a friend that bragged of her hopes. Never would I take a respectable woman from her home by making her such an offer."

The earl's frustration was equally apparent, though his frustration was because he felt Darcy's conduct to censure his own. The comparison to those he felt to be equals made him believe there was nothing to censure in his own conduct. As his habits were common of his class, the earl could not feel them to be wrong, except when presented with those as factious as Darcy, any comparison then felt like an inditement of his doings, which cause him to avoid such company when he could.

Wishing this interview to be over at least as much as Darcy did, he stood abruptly and said, "As I have your word there is not offer of matrimony forthcoming to someone unsuitable, I shall leave the matter alone. Do attempt to take the opportunities your aunt will afford you this evening seriously, we still hope something might tempt you. You have a duty to Pemberley. I expect for you to see to it in short order. You are now a man, I should not have to remind you what you owe your family." It was unjust, he knew, to imply Darcy was irresponsible, but his nephew's idea of morality was so grating, that even though he had heard nothing of it on this occasion, he still felt the relief of silencing the subject by hitting on the only failure Darcy could not yet answer.

Darcy, knowing it better to ignore the implied accusation stood, ready to show him out. "I thank you for you call, and have already given my aunt my word that I would honor my duty to her." With that, the earl took his leave, and left. Wishing for some relief, Darcy began to climb the stairs in hope of some rest before this evening amusements. As he neared the top of the stairwell, his sister come from the music room with a wild burst of energy. She had clearly been waiting for his return; the lack of decorum was entirely unlike her.

"Pray, is something amiss?" he said.

"It is only that I wished to speak with you, I can only hope that I have done the right thing, though I begin to question my choice. I knew to not expect her upon me so soon, but I thought for sure Miss Elizabeth would send a note or acknowledge me in some way. I fear I have made a terrible error, and now it cannot be undone! She must think very ill of me to be so silent." She glanced to the footmen, turned quite pink and in a state of extreme embarrassment said nothing more.

Not having the pleasure of understanding why his sister was so put out by not having heard from Elizabeth, he gestured patiently to her sitting room. It is not as though she is unaware of the rules of decorum, there is no reason to expect anything until her call is returned.

Georgianna sat down, looked at him as though she was a child about to be scolded, opened her mouth as though she was about to rush to her own defense, then slowly closed it, corrected her posture to perfection, then looked at him again as though she was waiting for rebuke.

"May I inquire as to what has so affected your spirits? I had understood Miss Elizabeth would not be able to return your call for some days."

"Yes, she had said so herself." She replied, now wondering if she had done the right thing to involve her brother. In her agitation she had gone to the very person who had always provided her comfort, could always make matters right, always knew what to do. Oh, how I hate to disappoint him yet again!

"I fail then to see what is troubling you. Please allow me to better understand your concerns." He said, though he knew he could be of little assistance when it came to that young lady, he waited for Georgiana to explain her concern. He wait was not short, but when she did speak, he was immediately enlightened.

"Well, you see," she said nervously, "I thought it a very hard thing that my behavior should be the cause of the break between you and Miss Elizabeth so I wrote her to explain that I should be blamed, and not you. I had hoped she would take pity upon you and hold it not against you." His eyes grew wide, and already knowing the answer, he asked, "Georgianna, you did not tell her of your matter, have you."

She hesitated, and then nodded.

He said, "You were made to understand that our break was not your fault. Why would you feel as though you needed to explain yourself."
"Oh, but it was!" she cried. "You would not have felt as though you had to breakup Miss Bennet and Miss Bingley if you thought society would think me deserving of a proper husband. You would not have behaved so except to protect me. I sent it yesterday and have had no reply. Surely, she must now forgive you but think very ill of me, which only distances the two of you further. And that too, is my fault."

He could not believe it her fault; Darcy was not at all sure he would not have pursued the same course had Ramsgate never happened. He had still been wishing to escape Miss Elizabeth Bennet when he had departed Hertfordshire. There was little for it, he worked up every possible argument against every inducement for any of their party to stay in the neighborhood.

"Our break is in no way your fault. I must know, what precisely did you say? I do not wish to embarrass you; I only wish to better protect you."

She took a deep breath, looked down to her feet, a told her brother every painful detail. When she looked up the color was fully drained from his face, it brought her now comfort, but his words did.

"I would not have you worry what is next. Richard and I will take care of it." He said, feeling no confidence in his words. He instructed her to think no more on the matter and then left her, leaving orders for Colonel Fitzwilliam to be sent directly to him upon his return.