Page 113 of To Love And To Cherish
Mr. Grant’s face lit with long-forgotten memories. “George Darcy studied logic and mathematics at Peterhouse; we were rivals in all things. Then you are of the Darcys of Pemberley, in Derbyshire.”
Darcy inclined his head. “Yes, sir, unhappily, my father passed away several years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, my boy. Your father was a fine man. Do you have any siblings?” Mr. Grant asked.
“Yes, a sister, she’s just fifteen.”
“And how are you connected to Catherine Bennet?”
“By marriage. My wife, Elizabeth, is Catherine’s sister.”
The man gave a satisfied nod. “Mr. Darcy, I believe our families may soon be connected. My son has set his sights on Miss Catherine.”
Darcy hid his delight and wondered why it was taking the young man so long.
“I am glad to hear it,” he said. “Indeed, it had been my wife’s intention to collect Catherine and bring her to London. She wished to present her to society, but if your son has formed an attachment, we will not stand in the way. Does he mean to propose soon?”
Mr. Grant coughed into his hand. “Before the week is out.”
“Very good, sir. I shall inform my wife accordingly.”
The next day, at noon, a carriage was heard in the drive of the Bertrams’ home. Kitty flew through the front door and wrapped Elizabeth in an exuberant embrace.
“Where is Mr. Darcy?” she cried. Catching sight of him, she took his hands in hers. “You brought Daniel to the point, he offered this morning, and I accepted him! We are to be married from Longbourn in eight weeks. I owe it all to you, and to Elizabeth and Mary, for inviting me here.”
Elizabeth laughed, delighted with the outcome. “Kitty, I am so happy for you. He is a fine man.”
“Reticent,” Elizabeth added later, with a wink. “I cannot imagine how you managed it.”
Kitty launched into a story composed mostly of carriage rides, parish visits, and her own determined charm. Darcy privately thought the young man needn’t speak much; Kitty had enough animation for them both.
It was decided that she would return with them to London and be sent home to Longbourn under careful escort: a maid, a trusted groom, and a stable man armed with a blunderbuss.
Later that day, Darcy and Richard rode to Rosings. Lady Catherine greeted them with the usual condescension and little warmth.
“And my cousin? I don’t see Anne.” Richard asked.
“That good-for-nothing girl has taken to her bed,” she snapped.
“What is the nature of the illness?” Darcy asked.
“There is nothing wrong with her; it is all in her head. I have suffered with that girl all these years! I do not know how I have borne it.”
Darcy’s jaw tightened. “I mean to see my cousin. Is Mrs. Jenkinson with her?”
“Yes, though what good she does, I cannot say. I ought to send her away; she is like an unnecessary appendage.”
Richard said gently, “Aunt, Mrs. Jenkinson is important to Anne. I doubt Anne would tolerate her removal.”
Lady Catherine dismissed him with a wave. “Go, then. But return to speak with me of her future.”
As they walked away, Richard muttered, “We’ve known that speech by heart these twenty years.”
“Yes,” Darcy replied. “‘It was the favorite wish of your mother...’” He shook his head. “I could recite it in my sleep.”
Upstairs, Darcy tapped on the bedchamber door, and Mrs. Jenkinson opened it a crack. “Goodness,” she said. “Mr. Darcy! Colonel Fitzwilliam! I had begun to fear you would not come.”
“We wish to see our cousin,” Darcy said gently.
