What Jane Austen Didn't Tell Us!. Austen Alliance
Papa’s final wish.”
Darcy nodded. Such a purchase would mark the crowning step in the Bingley family’s rise from those fortunate in trade to the ranks of gentlefolk.
“How much easier my heart would feel to know that Charles would have recourse to someone older, wiser. Someone such as you, sir.”
Darcy quickly answered. “Please tell your brother that he can rely on my assistance in any matter that might trouble him.”
“I shall quite rely upon seeing you soon again. Pray forgive me, but I must ensure such little society as I can enjoy.”
Darcy understood. In mourning, Caroline must retire from Society—and meeting any eligible suitors. He responded with friendly words but without encouragement for any romantic hopes.
Mere months later, tragedy touched Darcy much closer. His father was stricken by a paralytic fit, leaving the right side of his body useless. George Darcy proved to be a difficult patient, abusing the servants as they tried to tend him and disturbing young Georgiana. Darcy returned to Pemberley and a series of stormy scenes as he undertook to nurse his father. His filial devotion served to mitigate George’s pain, and the two were reconciled.
“I leave this world peacefully enough.” The words came painfully from the elder Darcy’s half-paralyzed lips. “To you I entrust Pemberley—and Georgiana’s future.”
George Darcy’s eyes burned as he clutched his son’s hands with his single good one. “Cherish them—and provide an heir to continue the family heritage.”
His own eyes clouded with tears, young Fitzwilliam promised to follow his father’s strictures. Soon enough, George Darcy died.
Scarcely, it seemed, had George Darcy been interred when Lady Catherine de Bourgh appeared at Pemberley, eager to offer counsel—and, of course, to suggest a wedding between her daughter Anne and the Pemberley heir. Because of Lady Catherine’s overweening will, his gentle mother, to preserve peace, had given assent to the match when Darcy was a child.
While not explicitly rejecting his aunt’s schemes for directing his life, Darcy was able to fend her off, pleading the need to care for Georgiana ... and a considerable amount of unattended business to be dealt with at Pemberley.
During the elder Darcy’s illness, much had been forced onto the shoulders of his steward, James Wickham, whose own health had suffered, leaving much undone. Thus young Darcy thrust himself into the requirements of managing the estate.
One of the first things to be dealt with was the matter of George Darcy’s will. After generous bequests to various faithful servants and charitable donations, there was one troublesome legacy:
To my godson, George Wickham, I bequeath the sum of £1,000—along with earnest hopes that my heir will furnish this well-beloved young gentleman with such advantages as his chosen profession might allow. Should the said George Wickham undertake Holy Orders, it is my express wish that he might succeed to the benefice of Kympton as soon as it should become vacant.
After witnessing Wickham’s exploits at Cambridge, Darcy could imagine no one less suitable for life as a clergyman. He did not, however, burden George’s father with this information. The elder Wickham was ill, and indeed within weeks his own funeral ensued.
Soon thereafter, a letter arrived from George Wickham, advising Darcy that he had decided not to pursue Holy Orders and considered turning his attention to the law, the only drawback being that the interest on his bequest was insufficient to meet his needs during his course of study. If, however, he could receive some goodly sum in lieu of the promised church preferment, this would be readily accepted.
Thus Darcy parted with £3,000 in return for an undertaking from Wickham, renouncing his expectation of any church living. Darcy was unsure as to what course in life his former friend would actually follow, but he was certain that this transaction brought an end to their connection.
He turned his mind instead to restoring Pemberley to sound management, rectifying things that had been ignored. Among his concerns was the plight of the poor in the neighborhood. When he consulted with the local vicars for advice on this subject, the most helpful was the Rev. William Graham, vicar of Kympton.
That good and honest man readily admitted that his knowledge in this sphere came from his daughter, Cassandra, who devoted herself to charitable works.
When Darcy applied to the young lady for advice, he found himself struck as much by Cassandra Graham’s loveliness as her piety. Her slim form and luminous dark eyes gave an immediate impression of ethereal beauty shadowed by a sense of sadness that worried him.
At first, Darcy attributed her grave manner to shyness. As she got to know him better, Cassandra displayed a mischievous side. “Is it true, what Harold Cheney told me the other day? That you once threatened to invade Hopewell Hall with all the boys of Pemberley?”
“I was nine years old at the time,” Darcy replied, but he could see the laughter in her eyes. “My intent was to commemorate an exploit of an ancestor, Sir Giles Darcy, who threatened to plunder the hall and was rewarded with a rich ransom.”
“And this Sir Giles was your hero?” Cassandra asked.
“Yes,” Darcy admitted with some embarrassment. “That was before I could read more about him in the Pemberley archives. He was accused of betraying the Parliamentary cause and imprisoned in the Tower of London. Somehow he survived that and the Restoration of the monarchy, actually serving in the royal court before his death.”
“Not all heroic, then?” Cassandra inquired with a laugh.
“As I fear so much of history is not,” Darcy confessed, joining in. “He did, however, keep Pemberley safe.”
During the pleasant days of springtime, he visited often with Cassandra, devising all manner of means to bring a smile to her face. Often he teased her, invoking the Cassandra of ancient legend. That mythological namesake had the gift of true prophecy, but was cursed by the god Apollo never to be believed.
As time passed, Darcy came to realize his attachment to Cassandra was much more than mere friendship. Believing his feelings were reciprocated, he confessed his love to her.
“Sweet Fitzwilliam, that cannot be,” she said softly.
He immediately set out to reassure Cassandra, imagining her diffidence arose from concern over his heritage. “Have no qualms about the difference in our stations,” Darcy exclaimed. “Your father is of gentle birth and all that is respectable.”
But Cassandra insisted, “He is also a third son, far from the family’s line of succession—and patrimony. You must consider the reservations that members of your own family will have.”
“I believe that all you suffer from is an excess of humility,” Darcy declared. “Further, I believe you return my affections. Dearest, you do love me, and we will be married—nothing and no one will stand in our way.”
“I fear the matter is not so simple as that.” Cassandra fought tears as she spoke. “You should know—”
But he ignored her reservations, silencing her with a kiss. “Hush, my beloved. Nothing will stand in our way.”
The next day, he wrote to the Earl of Bleaklow, requesting an interview. When he arrived at Bleaklow Park to announce his plans, however, he found his cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, and Lady Catherine de Bourgh in attendance.
“When you contacted my brother, I assumed you were coming to set an appropriate date for the marriage to Anne and felt we should all be here to celebrate.” Lady Catherine’s triumphant expression slipped slightly. “Although, certainly, the correct course would have been to apply to me, first.”
Confronted with a phalanx of Fitzwilliams and aware of Lady Catherine’s matrimonial machinations, Darcy lost his resolution. He cudgeled his brain to devise some alternative reason to see the Earl. “I—I beg pardon, dear Aunt,” he said, stammering slightly as he began. “I came to Bleaklow with quite