“It might be,” came the rather stern answer, which strangely reverberated about the room.
Silence reclaimed the library, but it was too late for Richard to feign indifference. His curiosity triumphed, for never before had Darcy shown interest in any young lady within their social circle—much to the dismay of many a mother who had hoped to see her daughter married to such a wealthy and eligible gentleman.
“I fled Hertfordshire at the end of November. That is the truth.”
“You deserted…in the face of a young lady?” Richard asked, incredulous. The idea that Darcy might be gripped by fear, of any kind, seemed impossible.
“You could say that I did.”
“Was she after your money as well?” asked the colonel, plainly now, for it was clear a young woman from Hertfordshire lay at the heart of the matter.
“No, not she. But her family—” Darcy stopped, a grimace of distaste crossing his face, saying more than a hundred words might have.
“I do not understand,” the colonel admitted honestly.
“Indeed, it might be difficult. Briefly, I met a young woman in Hertfordshire who intrigued me from the first moment I saw her. As I came to know her better, my admiration only grew. But then her family made its distressing appearance.”
“Distressing? Good heavens, Darcy!” the colonel exclaimed in exasperation. “You are not marrying her family!”
“There, you are utterly wrong, dear cousin. A family such as hers could very well ruin even the happiest of marriages.”
“I do not know where you get such notions,” the colonel replied, still incredulous. He was genuinely pleased that his cousin had found a woman he admired, and he, personally, did not consider any family a sufficient obstacle. He spoke firmly. “Look at Diana. She comes from a family of merchants, yet today, no one would guess her father is not a duke. And her parents are decent, pleasant people who have never pushed themselves into society without an invitation.”
“It was precisely Lady Oakham and her parents I had in mind as a fortunate example of such a match working perfectly. The young lady is very much like Lady Oakham in many ways. Still, her parents and sisters behave as though they belong behind a market stall.”
The silence again conquered the room. Darcy looked around the familiar and cherished space as if in an attempt to find courage or confidence.
His library lay tucked within his grand London house, which his family had owned for five generations. Although the house had undergone many changes, especially during his mother’s time, the library had remained untouched, a sanctum of silence and thought with ancient furniture and an impressive collection of books. Its tall sash windows gazed out over the garden beyond, which could not be compared to Pemberley’s immense park yet had an undeniable charm.
“And if they were more like Diana’s parents?”
Darcy started; for a few moments, he had forgotten the conversation, and even the colonel, lost as he was in thought, and reality returned with a distressing reminder of his dilemma.
“I would marry Elizabeth Bennet at once!” he exclaimed, and only then realised, too late, that he had spoken without genuinely reflecting on his words.
It was, indeed, more than he had intended to reveal, for only a few evenings prior, that very name had been uttered during a dinner with the entire family at the Matlocks’ house. Anne, who was staying in London with her aunt and uncle, had received a letter from her mother, mentioning the presence of guests at the Parsonage. And Colonel Fitzwilliam, who possessed an excellent memory, had not forgotten the name of a particular person, who proved to be Mr Collins’s cousin—the same one Darcy had just revealed inadvertently. Finally, the colonel understood why Darcy was so eager to escort Anne home before Easter.
It was a promising sign—it might suggest that his inner struggle was not yet settled and that there remained a chance he would decide to ask for her hand.
Although he had no intention of saying more about the woman he admired, Darcy did not end the conversation.
“Why do you suppose it would be better for me to marry a woman about whom I harbour such hesitation?”
“From what you have told me, your hesitation is not towards her but her family. That is a significant distinction.”
“At present, yes. But a year from now, when her family descends upon the peace of Pemberley, I doubt that particular reservation will still seem minor.”
“What I mean is, in the case of that young lady, your concern lies with those around her, not with her character. That is unlike so many other women of our acquaintance, regarding whom your reservations are far more direct.”
“What do you mean?” asked Darcy, curious. “Which young ladies do you mean?”
The colonel paused briefly, intent on forming a response that might stand against the reasoning of his cousin, who had a talent for turning every argument to support his own view.
“Lady Olivia, for instance.”
“Lady Olivia?” Darcy repeated, and to the colonel’s surprise, he caught a flicker of embarrassment on his cousin’s face, the meaning of which he could not reasonably interpret.
“Yes, she is an exceedingly clever woman—but not one with many scruples.”
