"Naturally." The Earl turned to Lady Catherine. "Catherine. Stop it. You're making my head ache."
"Henry! You must talk sense into him! He wants to marry a Bennet!"
"I know," the Earl said, picking up a tart, sniffing it, and putting it back. "Nice girl. Smart. Good family. I owe money to the father. Uncle knows trade.Useful."
Lady Catherine looked as if she had been slapped with a living trout. "Useful? You are the Earl of Matlock! You are the head of the family!"
"And as the head of the family," the Earl of Matlock said, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble, "I am telling you that this engagement nonsense ends now. Anne doesn't want him. He doesn't want Anne. And frankly, Catherine, if you force them to marry, they will be miserable, and you will spend the rest of your life listening to them complain. Is that what you want?"
"I want Rosings to be—"
"Rosings is fine," the Earl interrupted. "Anne can marry whoever she likes. Or no one. She has a fortune. Let the girl read her books in peace." He turned to Anne. "Anne. Do you want to marry Fitzwilliam?"
"No, Uncle," Anne said clearly. "He is very serious. And he smells of horses."
"There," the Earl spread his hands. "Rejected by the lady herself. You can't force a man on a woman who thinks he smells."
Darcy opened his mouth to protest that he didnotsmell, then decided against it.
"This house," the Earl continued, looking around the room, "is too small for this much noise. And Darcy looks like he's about to faint. Catherine, put your gloves on."
"I shall not! I shall stay here until—"
"You shall come to Matlock House," the Earl ordered. "We have better rooms. And soundproof walls. You can scream at me there. I have a bottle of scotch and very thick skin."
He offered his arm to Lady Catherine. It wasn't an offer, not really. It was a command.
"Come along, sister. We can discuss the decline of the aristocracy over luncheon. I believe we have pheasant."
Lady Catherine looked at the Earl, then at his wife, who was smiling like a shark. She looked at Darcy, who was standing tall and unyielding. She realized, for the first time in her life, that she was outnumbered.
"Very well," she sniffed, grabbing her gloves from Mostyn. "I shall come. But only because this house is drafty and the tarts were subpar."
She marched to the door. "Anne! Come along!"
Anne stood up. She walked past Darcy. She paused, patted his arm, and whispered, "Good luck with the Bennet lady. She sounds exhausting. I like her."
And then she followed her mother.
The Matlocks herded Lady Catherine out like expert sheepdogs. The front door slammed, shaking the house. The sound of the heavy carriage rolling away faded into the distance. Silence returned to the morning room. Darcy stood in the centre of the rug. He felt lightheaded. He felt exhausted.
"Is it safe?"
Georgiana stepped fully into the room. She looked around, as if expecting Lady Catherine to pop out from behind the curtains.
"It is safe," Darcy let out a long breath. "They are gone. The Earl has taken them."
"He took them to Matlock House," Georgiana marvelled. "He sacrificed himself for us."
"He did. We should sendhim a case of wine."
"Or a medal."
Darcy looked at his sister. She was smiling. She wasn't cowering. She had hidden in the hall, yes, but she had stayed.
He laughed. It started as a chuckle and grew into a full, chest-deep laugh of pure relief.
"We did it," he said. "We actually did it."
