Chapter Text
Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley and Derbyshire was no stranger to impropriety. As the sole heir to a grand estate, he was raised, beginning at an early age, in all that was proper. As such, he had a keen eye for breaches of conduct in those with whom he interacted. Shopkeepers, businessmen, eligible young ladies and their determined mama's; no one was safe from the master of Pemberley's discerning eye. With such thorough knowledge of the finer aspects polite behavior, Mr. Darcy was fastidious in maintaining all appearances of a well-bred gentleman. His reserve, as much a product of much practice as an effort to hide an inherent shyness when in company unfamiliar to him, caused not a few acquaintances to view him mistakenly as haughty at best and spiteful at worst. But wealth and prestige gained him such respectability that even those who dared to take offense found such deficits easy to forgive.
Those privileged enough to be privy to the true Fitzwilliam Darcy, however, knew to look for the barely noticeable twitches at the corner of his mouth and the hidden spark of mirth in the depth of his eyes. For, in truth, Mr. Darcy was one who was in possession of a witty humor. As a boy, he often derived amusement from the harmless follies of others, a practice encouraged by Lady Anne Darcy's love of the ridiculous and tempered by the previous Master Darcy's benevolence towards his fellow men. Though such tendency became better hidden as the experiences of loss and increasing responsibilities gifted the young man with a solemnity often mistaken for universal disapproval, it never lay dormant. The closeness he shared with his younger sister, despite the years that separated them, further ensured that such lightheartedness was never extinguished. Indeed, from the moment he had first beheld her infant form, resting so peacefully in quiet oblivion of the tragedy that marred her entry into the world, young Fitzwilliam Darcy had felt a rush of protectiveness over the poor motherless creature. When he observed the overwhelming sorrow that threatened to rob him of a father as well, he promised, with all the naivety of a child but the conviction of one much older that he would ensure that his sister should not be a stranger to joy and laughter. To please his father, he attended to his tutors and quickly exceeded the expectations placed on the heir. When not at his books or riding the estates at his father's side, however, he made certain to accompany his sister in all her whimsies and discovered a hitherto unknown talent for mimicking others. Even when he was obliged to leave for University, he was mindful to visit home whenever possible to reenact silly scenes from his experiences to the great delights and adoration of Miss Georgiana Darcy.
When their father finally passed from the heartbreak that had slowly leached at his life, the Darcy siblings took much solace in one another. While other young men might have grown bitter for having to shoulder the many responsibilities of the young Master of Pemberley, Mr. Darcy found that his darling sister's youthful innocence and exuberance for life prevented him from hiding away his heart. For all that brother and sister were often alone in such a large establishment as Pemberley, their days were filled with laughter and true contentment.
Of course, visitors were always welcome at Pemberley, particularly the presence of the amiable Colonel Fitzwilliam, cousin to the Darcy siblings. What both Darcys lacked in social grace, the good Colonel made up for with such gentlemanly charm that those with whom he conversed always left his company delighted at having made his acquaintance. The Darcy siblings also felt a great indebtedness to their good cousin. For Colonel Fitzwilliam it was who insisted on Mr. Darcy's openness with his sister. Knowing the siblings' shy dispositions and predilections for hiding their emotions, Colonel Fitzwilliam made good use of his battlefield experiences and managed to help brother and sister confide in one another in their grief and so emerge from the mourning period all the stronger.
So it was that as Fitzwilliam Darcy faced his Aunt Catherine and her idiot sycophant of a clergyman, Mr. Collins, only his cousin saw through Darcy's serious mien. The good Colonel knew that in his mind, Darcy was already planning a re-enactment of such a scene for dear Georgiana once they reached Pemberley on the morrow. Though neither cousin could stand the ostentatious bearings of their most beloved aunt, propriety as well as family obligation demanded that they continue to suffer through their yearly Easter visits to Rosings. Finally, the droning voice of Mr. Collins and his multitude of platitudes for the most gracious and honorable Lady Catherine de Bourgh ceased long enough for the grand lady herself to order imperiously the cousins to their carriage, for certainly though she, and her daughter Anne, greatly enjoyed the young gentlemen's presence, it would be most unwise to leave too late after the sun had risen. After all, young gentlemen of good breeding should not laze around the mornings but should rather apply themselves to practical task of good industry. Resisting the strong urge to roll his eyes, Colonel Fitzwilliam bowed as was expected and exited the morning room as quickly as he could while still staying within the bounds of polite behavior.
Neither cousin said a word nor looked at one another until their carriage safely left the oppressive confines of Rosings Park. Only when the trees successfully hid the grand estate from view did they feel at ease to breath in the free air and release their tensions in uproarious laughter.
Grasping the sides of the carriage for support, Darcy caught his breath and admitted wryly, "I know laughing at Aunt Catherine is most un-gentlemanly, yet I cannot but continue to think her most ridiculous. I am only sorry that Cousin Anne has to live with not only such a mother but also the scintillating company of Mr. Collins."
Colonel Fitzwilliam replied with a chuckle, "Letters from Anne have been quite amusing since the installment of the rector. He is too respectful of our Aunt to be fond of her, and much too mindful of the elevation of her position above him to understand her condescension. Such were Anne's words; and I have found little cause to fault her judgment. Indeed, interactions with the good clergyman have only illuminated further deficits on which Anne was too kind to remark."
"Perhaps our esteemed relation only wished for a source of amusement; your mother has certainly mentioned that Aunt Catherine is far too isolated at Rosings."
"Then she might have accepted my father's offer to obtain her a lapdog; the results may well have been similar. Besides, you know my mother retains grand hopes to introduce Anne to the Ton."
"For good reason, no?"
The Colonel sighed, his levity momentarily forgotten, "I should not have told her of my intentions."
His cousin gave him a look of incredulity as he commented dryly, "As I recall, she gave you little choice in the matter."
"Indeed. Woe to whoever should attempt to hide truths related to matrimony from my mother!" Was the Colonel's rueful reply.
His eyes alit with curiosity, Darcy asked frankly, "When will you quit your lonely life as a soldier, retire your regimentals, and make our Cousin Anne the happiest of woman?"
"I expect my mother's joy may well eclipse Anne's!" The sigh that accompanied such an apparent flippant remark, however, revealed well the Colonel's wistfulness. "I do so hate to make Anne wait. Though her letters have always managed to raise my spirits even when the conditions inside my lodgings were hardly better than the wretched battlefields outside their confines, I cannot claim enough fondness for such a life that I would be sad to see an end to it. But what can I do? My income is as yet insufficient to permit me to marry, leastwise, not without relying on my wife's inheritance or my parents' generosity. Though I know I would be well-supported on both accounts, I cannot in good conscience offer for Anne without some security to my own name."
Sobering immediately at the Colonel's mention of his life in service to the crown, Darcy attempted at levity to return some cheer to the carriage ride, "And you must have some footing on which to challenge Aunt Catherine's authority...To think that you, the son of an Earl, is not as free as I, a humble gentleman farmer, to secure your happiness."
Not one given to melancholy, the Colonel took the comment for the purpose it was intended, "Humble indeed! My dear cousin, if Pemberley was less prosperous and the Darcy name less ancient, you may well have escaped Aunt Catherine's greatest desire to call you son as well as nephew. As it is, only my fondness for dear Georgie has kept me from challenging you for a claim to our fair cousin; Georgie has suffered enough losses for me to think of robbing her of a brother as well."
"As though you could hope to usurp my title of fencing champion within the family."
"Ha! But you have been growing soft for wont of exercise, hidden away as you are at Pemberley. I demand a match to test my talents."
"You shall have it, cousin. Only I do hope your vanity stands ready to be destroyed!"
"As one of His Majesty's finest soldiers, I shall show no fear!"
Such talk caused a spirit of glad anticipation to re-descend between the cousins. Both were quite eager to return Pemberley, not only for the delightful company of young Miss Darcy, but also for the lightening of spirit that was necessary after a stay at Rosings. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, with all her imperiousness of manner and firmness of opinion, was a woman whose very presence demanded deference from all but those with the steadiest temperament. Her servants were all suitably in awe of the great lady and her neighbors appropriately appreciative of her generosity; thus, her reign was absolute. Her fondest wish, one which the grand lady had determined will be fact, was for her daughter to wed Darcy, thus joining their two great estates. Her family, however, was well aware that Anne and Richard shared great affection from one another from the very moment he had rescued her from falling in the creek in their youth. Lord Matlock, who had always been friendlier with the younger of his two sisters, chose not to apprise Lady Catherine of the situation. He only watched over the growing closeness of his son and niece with great satisfaction and prepared himself for the smirk of triumph when his sister should realize how well her plans had been thwarted. Lady Matlock, having been acquainted with the Fitzwilliam family long before she became one of its members, was more sympathetic to her sister-in-law. As a mother, she understood Lady Catherine's love for her daughter even if she could not agree with the overprotectiveness with which such affection was expressed. Surely Anne had no need to have her mother dictate all aspects of her life! All efforts to allow Miss de Bourgh a proper London Season, however, were thwarted with notifications regarding the young lady's indifferent health. Lady Matlock thus had to satisfy herself with regular correspondence with her niece and rare meetings when her husband could be prevailed upon to visit with his sister.
Certainly young Anne de Bourgh had suffered a serious illness, a most dreadful fever that almost claimed her life and left her more frail than her cousins, but she was no invalid. She was small of stature, particularly when seated next to both her mother's person and personality. Her pale complexion, however, was not unlike that of her maternal grandmother, a commonality she shared with her eldest cousin, the Fitzwilliam heir. She possessed a quiet disposition, but enjoyed what limited pursuits she was allowed. In particularly, she delighted in driving her horse and phaeton through the parks of her home and was not an infrequent visitor to the prior occupants of the parsonage. Though deferential to her mother in most matters, Anne was not without her own thoughts. Taking advantage of the many occasions during which her mother insisted that Darcy accompany her for a brief walk in the well-manicured gardens, she had explained to him, in gentle tones, that she did not wish to marry him, no matter her mother's designs. Darcy was only too relieved to hear her words. Though he was fond of his mother's namesake, he was too much Lady Anne's son not to hope for more spirit in a wife. Besides, even then he had known that Anne's letters were Richard's greatest treasures while Richard's presence always made Anne's eyes shine the brighter. Indeed, seeing his two cousins so content in each others' company was the only real joy Darcy had in the yearly pilgrimage to Kent. Despite his natural abhorrence for deceit, he minded not the duplicity of escorting Anne from the house only to have the Colonel replace his position at her side once they had reached the gardens.
Though the Earl and Countess of Matlock made their pleasure at the match known to Richard and offered to settle a most generous estate on him and his bride, the Colonel, as he had indicated to Darcy, was not yet willing to approach the formidable Lady Catherine. Alas that the Colonel inherited the great stubbornness of the Fitzwilliams, for he was insistent on making his fortune quite independent of his parents' influence and connections so that he may be a worthy suitor for the hand of his beloved. His father was wont to blame such desire on his son's perusal of the ideologies of the former Colonies in the wake of the most unpleasant business of keeping an alliance from forming between the Americans and the dastardly French. But Darcy, who had learned to be independent at a young age, could not fault the Colonel for his wished to stand before Aunt Catherine as his own man.
A mention of Miss Darcy's progress with her embroidery caused the Colonel to touch the breast pocket where a handkerchief from Anne lay.
Catching the momentary lapse in his cousin's jovial manners, Darcy sighed, "If only you had a maidenly aunt who could conveniently leave you a fortune."
"Ah, but Aunt Cordelia had made a most advantageous marriage to the Duke of Chesterton and left behind two sons in addition to the heir when she passed."
"And your uncle cannot be prevailed upon to take pity on you?"
"You forget, cousin, that my maternal grandparents had quite severed the connection after Aunt Cordelia's passing. I never knew the reason for it, but suffice to say I must be the master of my own fortunes. But enough talk of my future, should you not attend to Aunt Catherine's talk of your prospects?"
"You know very well that her heavy-handed hints are but reminders that I should make an offer for Anne," Darcy retorted, "and as we both know such an event shall never come to pass, I can ignore her well enough. Besides, for your sake, I must maintain the charade that I intend to heed her wishes. She might well find a more unscrupulous suitor in a fit of pique should I find another lady to be Mistress of Pemberley."
"My debt to you is great," the Colonel admitted, "and I little know how I shall repay it. I can only promise that should you find a young lady who can bring you the happiness you desire, I shall endeavor to sing your praises such that she will have no choice but to fall in love with you."
"Such talk of matrimony! Has your mother finally given up hopes that Reggie might return from the Continent and settle at Milton Hall with a viscountess at last?"
"Letters from my brother have been particularly sparse as of late. He did manage to send reassuring words of his safety at Sicily, where His Majesty's Navy has a strong presence."
"No mentions of when he might come home? Though Georgie has delighted in the packages from abroad, I imagine Aunt Matlock would rest easier if both of her sons were on British soil."
The Colonel shook his head, "Reggie, for all his apparent ease of temperament, is as stubborn as any Fitzwilliam."
"And so your mother has turned her eyes to you?"
With a laugh, the Colonel remarked, "I believe you are to be her next target, Darcy! You are now four and twenty and have successfully taken over the running of Permberley. Mother is of the opinion that it is high time that you were wed, if only to ensure that Georgie will have someone to help her prepare for her coming out in a few years' time."
Darcy allowed his alarm to show at such a comment, "Heavens forbid! Has she forgotten the disasters of last summer?"
"Only you deemed it a disaster, Mother was quite pleased with your popularity."
With a groan, Darcy shook his head, "Save me from well-meaning relatives! You know well, Richard, that the manner of wife I hope to find is rare indeed; I have little chance of finding her in one of the Ton."
The Colonel nodded, "Yes, your parents' felicity, brief though it was, did much to shape your opinions in such a matter. Even the strength of your father's grief cannot keep you from wishing to marry only for the deepest affection."
"You need not make me sound like a heroine in the novels young ladies are wont to enjoy."
"And what would you know of such novels?"
"I must ensure proper reading material for my sister," replied Darcy with great dignity despite the knowing look on his cousin's face. Nonetheless, he could admit to himself that he did feel some emptiness that neither the most melodious songs from his sister nor the most outrageous tale from his cousin could fill. Now that the mourning period for his father had ended and his authority as the Mr. Darcy of Pemberley and Derbyshire was mostly established, he knew he was expected to find a wife to care for Pemberley as its Mistress and to provide a guide for his young sister.
Seeing the furrow between Darcy's eyebrows, the Colonel asked, "You are determined, then, to find a true partner?"
Darcy's reply was steadfast, "I love Pemberley, but the Darcy wealth draws enough from other sources that I cannot always be available to care for the needs of my tenants. And though Hendricks is an invaluable steward, I cannot in good conscience keep him from his family; I have seen what the neglect of a father can do to a young man who was otherwise full of promise...I am not opposed to marriage, especially if it be one build on friendship and love, but the Mrs. Darcy I seek is unconventional indeed."
And where was he to find such a woman to answer his heart's yearnings? Certainly not within the rigid confines of the tearooms or among and the banal chatter at the balls Lady Matlock had already insisted that he attend. Though society demanded that a well-bred young lady be well-read, propriety demanded that she restrict her repertoire of literature to the Good Book, the works of the great poet, or the frivolities of popular novels. Where could he find a woman who dared to acquire knowledge regarding the practicalities of being a landowner, a partner with whom to share the demands of ensuring that his tenants were well-fed, well-clothed, and well-sheltered from the harsh Derbyshire winters?
Richard Fitzwilliam found that he could not find a reply to his cousin's impassioned inquiries. Darcy's unique wishes regarding the attributes of his future life partner did not surprise his cousin. After all, the late Lady Anne and the elder Master Darcy had made a love match. The Colonel's own parents, who Darcy respected though they could never replace his own parents, had also built a marriage out of mutual respect. That Darcy should seek the same was not unexpected. Despite all the fame of the wealth and prestige tied to his name, Fitzwilliam Darcy was at heart like all the Darcys before him, a simple country gentleman who wanted nothing more than to provide for those in his care and share in the fruits of his labors with those he loved.
"I can only wish you well, cousin."
Darcy coughed lightly, his cheeks slightly tinged with color at the outpouring of thoughts he had not meant to share, "Thank you, Richard."
The Colonel said no more but only nodded in reply.
Indeed, both young gentlemen could only commiserate together as the countryside raced by outside the carriage, little knowing that a letter from one Mr. Charles Bingley, lying innocuously in the pile of correspondences on the table of the Master's study in Pemberley, would play a role of great import in the achievement of both their desires.