Page 61 of Resilience

“You take pleasure in humiliating me.” Jane was indignant. “I made a mistake that cost my husband his friend, and I am trying to mend that mistake. You are my closest sister. You could help me, if you wanted. Mr Darcy would listen to you.”

“No,” Elizabeth said quietly. “I take no pleasure in humiliating you. But I take no joy either in prolonging a deception. And if I am your closest sister, I shudder to think how you might treat a relation you truly disliked.”

Jane drew herself up. “If you truly loved me, you would not speak so harshly. The Lizzy I knew and loved would forgive me.”

Elizabeth’s eyes flashed. “If you truly loved me, you would not attempt to prevent my marriage with feigned concern and self-serving fears. The Jane I knew and loved would never attempt to manipulate me as you have.”

“You have changed, Lizzy.” Jane adopted an expression of heartbreak.

“I certainly hope so.” Elizabeth shook her head thinking of all the tears she had shed for this sister. “But you changed first.”

Jane crossed the room to the door, then paused with her hand upon the latch.

Elizabeth’s words followed with quiet authority, “You should return to Scarborough, Jane. Or to Netherfield. Or wherever you please. But you will not be invited to my wedding even if you are here in the village, so you must decide if you wish to heap further embarrassment upon your husband.”

Jane did not look back. She left the room as softly as she had entered it.

Elizabeth stood alone in the fading afternoon light, her heart steady, her resolve firmer than it had ever been.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Wednesday 29 April 1812

Darcy knew his cousin disapproved of his choice, and he was not willing to hear him. He had been avoiding being alone with Richard since his announcement on Friday, and Richard had ignored him, in his way, but Darcy knew that his cousin would eventually have his say.

He sat at his desk, writing a letter to his solicitor about the marriage settlement. They would settle upon a date soon, but there was much to be done first.

Georgiana and Priscilla were overjoyed when Darcy returned from Hawthorne Vale with his news. Richard, wishing to expel his disapproval but unwilling to upset their ward, had stalked from the room and left for a long ride when Darcy told his sister of his engagement, then that night Richard rang for a tray in his room.

Darcy knew his cousin’s ways well, and was aware that Richard was chewing over every argument he wished to make, and when he finally spoke, he would be forceful and critical. Richard had practically quivered in rage through the reading of the banns, and Darcy was half surprised that Richard did not lodge an objection in the middle of church, though on what merit, he could not imagine.

Darcy sanded the letter and set it aside to begin one to his uncle as Richard finally entered his study. “Close the door, cousin. If you are finally prepared to voice your complaints, let us do it in private.”

Richard obeyed with a grim expression as Darcy set aside his pen and gave his cousin his full attention. “Let me hear your objection to my choice of a bride this time. You really are too forward with your opinions and too picky about what I ought to do, Richard. I do not know what you mean by such interest. It seems you do not wish for me to marry anybody.”

“You might have thought to inform your own cousin you were even thinking of taking such a step,” Richard challenged him. “Your wife will be an influence upon our ward.”

“That does not give you the right to select my bride or for me to choose yours.” Darcy raised a brow. “You are not entitled to prior notice of my private decisions. You barely speak to me. Why would I confide in you?”

“I am entitled to concern for my family, Darcy!” Richard objected.

“I have no idea what you are concerned about, but it is not your family.” Darcy shook his head and sat back in his chair, folding his hands.

“I am concerned for your duty,” said Richard “You are the widower of Anne de Bourgh. Her betrothed of long expectation. Her husband, and the incumbent of her estate. When Anne died–”

“You will not speak of Anne as though she were a ledger of obligation!” Darcy barked sharply. “She was our cousin, Richard. Not a legacy. Anne was a person, which was why I married her when you refused. To give her the freedom of being a person without fear before she died. I have not a single regret.”

“I am certain you do not,” Richard said smugly. “Not now that your holdings have increased by nearly half. The woman you marry will bear and mother the child who will inherit not only Pemberley and the name of Darcy and the connection to the Fitzwilliams, but the fortune and lands you received from Anne. Rosings Park. All of it. You owe it to Anne, to your family, to your position, to your sister, to marry accordingly.”

“I have chosen accordingly, and allow me to inform you that I will marry Elizabeth or no one.” Darcy glared at Richard. “If she does not bear my heirs, then I will have none.”

“Family in trade…related by marriage to Wickham of all people, and the damned parson…connections that border on scandal…what can you be thinking, Darcy!”

“Richard, you will speak of her with respect, or you will leave Pemberley entirely.” Darcy’s tone was forbidding. “If you were going to worship Anne from the grave, you ought to have just married her when she asked you,”

“I am not so easily persuaded by fortune as some,” Richard retorted. “It would have been a mockery of her feelings.”

“If Anne’s fortune were important to me, I would have married her years earlier, the match would have been celebrated by everyone except my parents, and my parents are dead, so their opinions hardly matter.” Darcy refused to be tarnished as a fortune hunter. “My happiness is not a trifle to be weighed against your expectations.”