My dear Fitzwilliam,
By now you will have been informed of poor Matlock’s fate, and that of Lucius and his family.
Your time has come, nephew. I honor the passing of our kinsmen and will remember them fondly. But you have come into a position of which few are ever worthy, and it pleases me to say that fewer still deserve it more than yourself.
You are to be honored by the highest in the land, Fitzwilliam. Let me charge you with all the force of my own blessed standing to remember your family. Remember your honorable mother and father, as dear to me still as two people can ever be. Remember all they taught you about the importance of family and our family name.
With that in mind, and with your impending ascent, I charge you to think very seriously about your next steps. As last in the line of Matlock, you are now responsible for not only maintaining that good name, but for ensuring its progenation. I have not seen the need to mention this subject before now but it is time you turn a serious eye to matrimony.
It is my very great privilege to offer to serve as your own dear mother would have done in assisting you with so great an undertaking. The selection of one’s partner in life is surely the single most important choice of our time on this earth.
You already know it was your mother’s wish that a union might be formed between yourself and your cousin, our own Anne. She is of marriageable age and will inherit all of my own considerable estate one day. I entreat you to consider this option before we meet. Your mother would have wanted it so.
I am conscious that you will have duties to attend; therefore I will not expect to see you before the 25th of ____. Do not delay your visit. There is much to be done.
C—de Burgh
Lady Catherine would indeed have to wait, thought Darcy. His itemized list sat untouched alongside her letter, seeming to drift somehow farther away from him where he sat.
His aunt did have a point. Marriage would make this entire transition easier; that is, marriage to the right woman. As earl, Darcy would have more choice of potential brides than ever before. The right kind of woman would be indispensable in helping him assume his new position in society.
With this in mind he began to seriously consider Lady Catherine’s offer of help, disregarding her comments his cousin Anne. It was well-known family lore that his mother, Lady Anne, had once wished a union between her son and Catherine’s daughter. As that wish was supposed to have been made when he and his cousin were both in cradles, Darcy did not feel obliged to uphold it. His parents had married for love themselves; rumor had it that even Lady Catherine had loved her husband once, some time before he died.
Darcy was not so foolish as to think that love would assuage all his pending complications but he was also not so unromantic as to strike the possibility of finding it altogether.
The earldom would set a level of expectation regarding his marriage, however, and that fact could not be ignored. He would do well to take Lady Catherine’s offer of help seriously.
Darcy spent the remainder of the afternoon making notes and writing still more letters to his sister and his steward at Pemberley. He would need to delegate a great deal of his responsibilities there, an idea he did not relish. Pemberley had been his family for generations and it gave him the deepest sense of well-earned pride to care for it to the best of his considerable ability.
The bell rang for dinner before he was thoroughly prepared to face his friends. His absence all afternoon required an explanation; social obligations besides, Darcy would hear what Bingley would say. Bingley might be an idle sort, but his character was of the highest order and his heart was generous, often to a fault. He would have a reasonable opinion, perhaps even an idea, on the subject of finding Darcy a wife.
Darcy was seated next to Miss Elizabeth, an event which just a few hours ago would have assumed paramount import in his mind. After Weatherby’s news, it was instead a welcome balm to the turmoil of the day.
“You were away most of the day. I do hope everything’s alright,” said Miss Elizabeth once they’d been seated.
Darcy did not immediately reply, raising his glass to study it as though he’d never seen one before. She waited patiently for his answer.
“I’m not quite certain how to answer you, Miss Elizabeth,” he said. Bingley was seated at Miss Elizabeth’s other side and heard this exchange.
“Are you well, Darcy? I hope you’re not taking ill, too,” he said. Bingley’s well-modulated voice carried in the dining room; the table went silent on the instant, compelling Darcy to answer at once.
“No, Bingley, I am quite well. Please, everyone, I assure you. Do not be alarmed. I am well.” Darcy answered the looks of alarm from the room at large. He deduced now to be as good a time as any to share his news. If Lady Catherine already knew, the earldom would become common knowledge in society soon enough anyway.
“I have had word that my uncle, the Earl of Matlock, was taken by disease while visiting Germany this last month.”
“Oh, Mr. Darcy, I am so very sorry,” said Miss Bingley, unaffected sincerity in her voice.
“Thank you, Miss Bingley, but there’s more to it, I’m afraid,” said Darcy. “Traveling with him was his eldest son and heir, Lucius Fitzwilliam, along with Lucius’s wife and their two sons. All were caught up by the disease.”
“Good God,” said Bingley.
“But doesn’t that—” said Mrs. Hurst.
“His heir,” said Miss Bingley. “You cannot mean—”
“Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Hurst. “Do you mean to say you have just got yourself titled?”
Darcy nodded. Every other person in the room gasped.
“Yes, Mr. Hurst, that is correct. On receiving notice from one Mr. Weatherby of London this afternoon, I have indeed become Matlock.”
The room erupted in noise – everyone began talking at once, except for Miss Jane Bennet. She gave Darcy a small smile and inclined her head, acknowledging his loss and his simultaneous gain with a small, eloquent look.
Mr. and Mrs. Hurst had begun arguing with each other; he couldn’t discern the subject. Miss Bingley was talking to him, but Darcy couldn’t make it out over the din. Miss Elizabeth Bennet was speaking quietly to Bingley.
The cacophony continued for several minutes until finally Bingley stood, his glass in hand. For the second time in a few moments the room went silent.
“Dear friends and neighbors,” said Bingley with a clear aim at showmanship. It was not among his natural gifts. “I want to thank you all for being here this evening. These last few weeks, being our first at Netherfield, have been memorable. I cannot tell you how glad I am to have come here.” He smiled broadly. Darcy fancied his gaze lingered in Miss Bennet’s direction. “And I think that in light of the news we’ve just received, we owe it to our new neighbors to throw a ball here at Netherfield! Darcy, my lord, you’ll be the guest of honor, of course. An evening of celebration for us all.”
This proclamation drew mixed results; Miss Bingley was eager to impress upon Mr. Darcy her avowed support during this trying time, but she all but sneered at the thought of spending another evening in company with the people in the neighborhood. Mrs. Hurst was of a similar mind.
Mr. Hurst didn’t mind a ball, for Bingley kept an excellent chef.
“And now,” cried Bingley. “I would ask you to please raise your glasses with me to toast our most honorable friend, Fitzwilliam Darcy, the new Earl of Matlock!”
They toasted, and Darcy toasted them back and drank deeply. He did not much care for wine, nor its effects, but today was proving to be a day for novelty. Perhaps the beverage would grow on him if he persisted.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet was smiling.
“Why do you smile?” he asked her.
“You have a very good friend in Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy,” she said. She blushed. “Excuse me, I mean to say, my lord.”
“Nonsense,” he said, banishing the attribute with a wave of his hand. She was correct in her address, but Darcy was not entirely ready to accept it as his. Moreover, he would not see her made uncomfortable. “You are right about Bingley, of course. But what makes you say so?”
“He made that toast to get everyone at the table to leave you be. Did you notice?” she asked. “They’ve all gone back to their own conversations rather than trying to drown you in inquiry.”
Darcy had not noticed, but did so now.
“Very observant of you, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, setting his wine aside. His dinner companion was a more effective distraction, particularly when she blushed. “But I did see you talking with Bingley right before he made his grand announcement about the ball. Do I detect a hint of mischief-making?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, my lord,” she said, but her eyes shone with humor. “I would not presume to suggest Mr. Bingley throw you a ball.”
“You know that is not what I meant.”
“In all seriousness,” she said, quieting. “I am sorry for your loss, and your family’s.”
“I thank you,” he said. “But my uncle and I were not close.”
“Perhaps you’ll be spared the pain of much grief, then,” she said. A few moments passed as they ate in silence.
“He missed his wife and youngest son very much, these last couple of years,” said Darcy. “I rather think old Matlock is happier where he is.”
“Then I shall speak no more of grief,” said Miss Elizabeth. “I imagine the sudden appearance of a family title means you have a great deal to do.”
Darcy accepted the change in subject with gratitude for he would indeed grieve his uncle’s loss, as well as that of Lucius and his family, but at dinner with guests was not the time to indulge his feelings.
“You imagine correctly,” he said. “My aunt – Lady Catherine who I told you about the other morning – she has already written regarding the most pressing social engagements, along with the duties of the office itself.” The prospect was a bit daunting, but he felt more equal to the task than he had an hour ago.
“Will your new office keep you from attending a ball at Netherfield as the guest of honor?”
“Would you be sorry if it did?” he asked. Darcy was not well versed in teasing, but Miss Elizabeth’s lively conversation and charming wit seemed to invite him to try.
“I think I would,” said Miss Elizabeth, her humor restored. “Though we shall see if that sentiment holds when first we see you dance, Mr. Darcy.”
Whatever reply he might have made was forestalled by the end of the meal.
When later they had all assembled for the evening’s cards, Mr. Darcy found his dinner companion nowhere in sight.
“If you are looking for Miss Eliza Bennet,” said Miss Bingley, appearing at his elbow as though summoned. “She and her sister have retired for the night.”
“I was not looking for anyone,” he replied, careful to quash any sign of disappointment from his expression.
“That’s just as well,” said Miss Bingley with a small smile. “Would you take a turn with me, Mr. Darcy? I have something to say in light of your new situation that might interest you.”