I paused, gathering my thoughts, searching for the right way to describe a place that was so much more than just a grand estate—a place interwoven with my earliest joys and deepest questions. My gaze drifted back to the window.
“I am sure I could not do it justice. Then again, if I were to describe it as I feel it in my heart, as I remember it, I would lead you to think it is better than heaven itself, and the reality would surely disappoint.”
Jane folded her shawl and laid it on the bed. “Well, what do you remember most about it?”
Most? That was easy. George—forever and always, my best friend and the boy I’d given my heart to when I was just a girl. Then there was Father, with his deep voice and stern looks that were always warmed by affection. And Fitzwilliam, too. I was never as close to him as to George, but he had been a good sort of a “brother” to me. Always ready to rescue me from whatever scrapes George got me into, but always so serious that we never had a good laugh about it later.
But to Jane, I said only, “The grounds are the most beautiful in all the world, I think. There is a lake we used to swim in when we were very young. Well… I never did, being a girl. Father thought it was not proper for me to swim with the boys, but George and Fitzwilliam…” I cleared my throat and lifted my shoulders. “There is no formal garden like there is at Netherfield, but there is a maze of rose hedges, a wilderness behind the house, and a folly… I suppose you would like that the best. It is on a slope, and you can see the entire valley from there. In fact, if our eyes were sharper, we could see it from this window.”
Jane had a strange look on her face–staring at me oddly. But she covered it with a smile and came to sit beside me. “You miss them still.”
I lifted my shoulders and fiddled with the lace on the edge of my sleeve. “I suppose I always will.”
“Perhaps not.”
I looked up. “What do you mean?”
She chuckled and took my hand. “As you said, one never knows what adventures may find us.”
Five
Darcy
“Fitzwilliam,towhatdoI owe this unexpected pleasure?” Lord Matlock inquired as he invited me into his study.
I took the seat he offered and shook my head when he gestured to the sideboard. I had not come to share drinks and bandy gossip. “It is about George,” I began, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. “He claims to be courting Lady Lucilla, Lord Belmont’s only daughter. More than that—Belmont is bringing his entire family on a tour of Derbyshire. They ought to be arriving in Duffield today, and according to George, they wish to tour both our homes.”
Lord Matlock’s eyebrows shot up. “Indeed? That is most surprising, yet... not entirely unwelcome news.”
“Not unwelcome?” I leaned forward. “What could George possibly offer Lady Lucilla? She’s the daughter of one of the most influential men in England.” The idea was ludicrous—George, whose most significant achievement to date had been an uncanny ability to avoid any form of meaningful labor, and a Marquess’s daughter. “Lord Belmont’s son-in-law will be expected to be one of the most powerful men in the kingdom. She could marry a duke, for pity’s sake.”
‘Yes. She could.” Matlock began to pace, a thoughtful expression playing across his features. “Belmont, for all his stature and wealth, is an exceedingly indulgent parent. He adores his daughter, and he is getting on. It may be that he has mellowed some in his dotage and is permitting her some leeway in the choosing of her husband. She cannot inherit any title beyond her honorific, and she certainly has no need for money.”
“Dotage! Preposterous. Belmont is as hale as you or I. But even if he were not, his son, the Earl of Winston, could profit substantially if his sister were to marry well. He would not limit his legacy so.”
“‘Tis said that Belmont himself married for love. Well… the first time, poor wretch. His second marriage was more to his family’s liking.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What happened to his first wife?”
My uncle folded his hands on his desk. “Died in childbirth, they say, and the child who was to be the heir died with her. Egad, you ought to know this story. Half of thetonwould have known all about it, and it was much the same as with your mother.”
“I know very little of my mother’s friends,” I murmured.
“I did not mean to imply they were friends. In fact, I cannot say whether Anne even knew Lady Belmont. But, be that as it may, I say there can be no harm and only good from encouraging George’s suit of the lady. Belmont may even permit him to declare himself.”
“I cannot credit it,” I countered, struggling to keep my tone level. The thought of George, with his haphazard approach to life, winning the favor of a marquess was more than a little far-fetched. “Indulgence is hardly a reason to believe he’d permit his daughter to be courted by someone like George.”
The corner of Matlock’s mouth quirked in a wry smile as if he found my disbelief amusing. “Fitzwilliam, you do not appreciate the unpredictable nature of affection. And let us not forget, George has a certain... charm.”
I couldn’t suppress a snort. George’s charm, indeed. The same charm that had convinced half of Derbyshire’s mothers he was eager for a match with their daughters, only to leave them bewildered when he inevitably lost interest. “Charm is hardly a suitable foundation for a courtship with a lady of Lady Lucilla’s standing.”
Matlock stopped pacing and faced me, his expression serious. “Perhaps, but we mustn’t underestimate the value of a good match, even if it seems unlikely. Encourage this, Fitzwilliam. It could be beneficial. You said yourself the lad needed direction and purpose.”
I frowned. “Encouraging George in this seems... reckless. Belmont’s favor is not something to be toyed with.”
“Perhaps,” Matlock conceded, “but consider this: supporting George in this endeavor could also open doors for you. Belmont’s visit to Derbyshire is an opportunity—not just for George, but for Pemberley.”
His words gave me pause. The potential advantages were undeniable, yet the risks loomed large. Could George’s whimsical pursuit of affection be the key to greater opportunities, or would it lead to unforeseen complications? Winning Belmont’s favor could be remarkably advantageous for me, but not like this. Not using his daughter and my brother as the hook and line. George was the only other Darcy. He was my brother, my responsibility, and I would not see him fall to ruin.
