Page 101 of Master of Himself

“They joined us for supper last week,” she said, gazing fondly at Richard.

While this seemed like nothing out of the ordinary, he didn’t fail to notice his cousin’s contented smile.

“Charles introduced us at an assembly,” Richard said. “I knew you wouldn’t mind, so I asked Georgie to invite them.”

“That’s interesting, but isn’t Destiny a bit young?” His cousin had never pursued girls just out of the schoolroom.

Richard smirked. “Indeed, she is. I find her aunt far more interesting.”

This made even less sense to Darcy. “The aging chaperone?”

“She’s six and twenty, and has devoted the last five years to her niece.”

Georgiana nodded. “Yes, the two ladies have suffered several bereavements over the past few years and finally emerged from mourning this past summer.”

Darcy had only had a glimpse of the lady after the performance at Vauxhall Gardens. “Why haven’t you mentioned her?”

“It’s early days, but…we’ll see,” Richard said as the carriage turned onto Meryton Road.

Darcy doubted his cousin, a second son, would pay court to a woman with no fortune, so he gathered that this one must be highly eligible.

“Dear Lord!” Richard said, as they approached the church. “That’s my father’s coach.”

Darcy immediately recognised the Matlock coat of arms on the coach door; the white and red diamond pattern was unmistakable.

“Well, Cousin, despite Aunt Catherine’s objection to the match, it seems that the earl has come to support you and Elizabeth on your wedding day,” Richard said with an amused grin.

“I’m only sorry I won’t be there when she learns of it.”

“She’ll be as mad as a hornet,” Richard said as they alighted.

To Darcy’s relief, his aunt and uncle had come to witness his nuptials. When he’d asked the earl if he would attend the ceremony, he had offered some vague excuse about the excessive demands on his time and his duties to the kingdom. Darcy had given up any hope of seeing his nearest relations, but the Earl and Countess of Matlock had come to lend their consequence to the festivities.

He found them in the vestibule conversing with Charles, Henry, and the vicar, dressed in his flowing white robe and embroidered stole.

Lady Matlock warmly greeted Georgiana and Mrs Annesley, then reached for Darcy’s hand. “You are precise to a pin, my dear Fitzwilliam,” she said, kissing his cheek.

“Thank you for making the trip, Aunt Eleanor.”

Lord Matlock shook his hand. “I am exceedingly proud of you, Fitzwilliam.”

Oddly enough, the earl had seemed rather less than pleased when Darcy had announced his betrothal to the daughter of an unknown gentleman of modest means, but that reaction hadn’t been surprising. His uncle had always wanted him to marry an heiress, as he had done in his youth.

“I’ll always strive to make you proud, Uncle Alexander.”

After escorting his family to the front pew, he returned to the vestibule.

Richard pulled him aside. “I suspect Mama is the force behind this appearance,” he said in a hushed voice. “When I showed her your letter about Catherine’s visit, she was determined to have the last word on the matter.”

Time seemed to pass in a blur as the guests arrived and greeted him and Charles at the door. One guest, however, took immediate exception.

“Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley, for heaven’s sake. What are you doing here?” Mrs Fletcher said in a frenzied voice.

He was about to give her the obvious answer, but she interrupted, “No, no, sir. You must await your brides at the altar. Off with you both,” she said, chasing them away.

Mr Fletcher pressed his lips together to suppress a laugh and shrugged his shoulders at his wife’s outburst.

Unfamiliar with this particular wedding mandate, Darcy dared not invite her disfavour, nor the wedding gods, if they existed.