Darcy said nothing. For several moments, only the crackling of the fire filled the room, then the earl sighed heavily. “I wish I could do something. I would give you a loan, if I had the funds to do so.”
Darcy believed he meant them. For the first time since George Darcy's death, someone sounded genuinely sorry rather than merely shocked.
An idea occurred to him. “There is something you could do. Would you take Georgiana?”
Lord Matlock’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Take her?”
“For her education.” Darcy folded his hands together. “I intend to retrench aggressively. My plan is to lease this house. Most of the London servants will be dismissed with references. At Pemberley, I intend to close all but a small portion of the house.”
The words sounded severe when spoken aloud. Yet Darcy had spent days calculating alternatives.
There were none.
“I can afford governesses and masters for Georgiana from the income of her trust,” he continued. “But she deserves society. Family. Stability. Richard, was chosen to be her second guardian. I am only relieved it was not Wickham.”
The earl screwed his face up at this, and Darcy smiled slightly.
“And I confess I would feel easier knowing she was surrounded by people who loved her.”
For a long moment, Lord Matlock simply looked at him, then he nodded. “Of course.”
Relief spread quietly through Darcy's chest.
The earl continued. “Your aunt would be delighted. Marianne has always been particularly fond of Georgiana, though they have only met a few times.”
Darcy smiled faintly. “Georgiana is the very image of my mother.”
“Is she?” The earl's eyes brightened.
“Just wait until you see her.”
Lord Matlock sighed, but then his expression darkened once more. “I wish I could do more,” he repeated, his hand tightening slightly upon the arm of his chair. “But most of the Fitzwilliam fortune is tied up.”
Darcy nodded. He understood immediately. “The trusts.”
“Exactly.” The earl gave a humorless laugh and leaned back heavily. “My grandfather established half of them, and my father established the remainder. When I was younger, I thought the restrictions excessive. Entire portions of the estate are protected from even the earl's direct interference. It seemed absurd to me then.”
His gaze drifted toward the furniture awaiting valuation, the paintings stacked against the wall, and the ledgers spread across nearly every available surface.
“Now I understand perfectly why they did it. One foolish generation can destroy centuries of work.”
The words struck closer than either of them cared to admit.
Darcy found himself thinking unexpectedly of Rome. Not the glorious republic celebrated in histories, nor the mighty empire that stretched from Britain to the eastern Mediterranean, but the slow decay that followed. The neglected frontiers. The corruption. The generations who inherited greatness and assumed it could never truly disappear.
Yet it had disappeared.
Entire civilizations had fallen because too many men believed someone else would preserve them.
“Yes,” Darcy said quietly. “It can.”
The earl regarded him thoughtfully for several moments before an expression almost resembling relief softened his features.
“I am glad of one thing, however.”
Darcy looked up from the ledger resting open before him.
“And what is that?”
