A Merry Darcy Christmas

“Do you have her letter?” Darcy asked.

“No. It’s somewhere, I suppose. Whatever do you think she means? I thought you would know, if anybody did.”

But Darcy didn’t. He was as mystified as his friend.

“I’ve no choice but to go and see what she has to say,” Northover said philosophically. “I’m so strapped for cash that I’ll have to sell another portion of Hardwick. Too many daughters in the family with too generous settlements over the years. Nobody with money marrying in.”

Darcy was aware of the problem. In his own case, Georgiana received a settlement of 30,000 pounds. If he did not choose a wife of means, the Pemberley estate would be reduced by 30,000 pounds with nothing added to it.

This was why he had resolved to increase the estate through business so that he would be able to marry whom he chose. Not that it was likely he would have his choice, but he was determined that if he did not, it would not be for want of funds.

“The steward at Rosings Park is designing to use the National Enclosures Act to fence the common,” said Pettigrew. He was still waving a cigar like a conductor’s baton. “Perhaps Lady Catherine has some similar scheme to propose to you?”

The common at Rosings to be fenced off? Darcy couldn’t believe it. What would happen to the peasants who lived on the land and turned out their sheep on it?

Although it was true that the land of the common belonged to the estate and not the peasants, they had had use of it for generations and, as Pettigrew had pointed out at dinner, if they were evicted from the common they would have no way of providing for themselves.

Darcy had known many of those families since his boyhood, as he had often visited Rosings Park and had spent entire summers there. The prospect of those good simple people being turned from their homes, to leave the pastoral countryside for work in the mills, or coal mines—or worse, go to war—made his blood run cold.

“Are you certain of this, Pettigrew? The common at Rosings is to be fenced?” Darcy asked.

“Oh yes,” said Pettigrew. “There are provisions for compensating the peasants in the Act, of course, but the steward there—you know him, chap named McGinty—says that he knows how to get around those. Claims to have fenced off half of Yorkshire without having to pay off so much as a farthing in compensation.

“It’s an outrage, sir, in my opinion,” Pettigrew continued, addressing Darcy as Lord Northover was reclining back in his chair with his eyes closed. “I’ve no problem with being hard-headed about business—ask my competitors in the textile trade—but this isn’t business it’s legalized theft . . .”

Darcy knew McGinty only slightly, for the steward was new, having been only recently hired to replace old Jepson, who had been Lady Catherine’s steward since Darcy could remember but had finally retired to a cottage on the estate.

McGinty was a dour Scot, a flint-like man who seemed competent enough to Darcy. It seemed he was also ruthless.

Darcy felt a wave of emotion so strong that it threatened to overwhelm him. Anger at the injustice. Fear for the futures of the innocent families who would be thrown from the only homes they’d ever known. This could not be permitted to happen. He would not permit it!

Did he have sufficient influence over Lady Catherine to prevail upon her to put a stop to the scheme? She was amenable to reason and would consider his counsel. Although she had never sought his advice—for his aunt was in the habit of giving advice rather than taking it—she would be sure to at least give him an audience.

He would persuade her that to fence off the common was plain and simply wrong. He would make her see it!

He thought of how she would receive him. What he might say. How best to convince her that what McGinty proposed could not proceed? Darcy forgot his brandy and cigar and did not notice that Georgiana had stopped playing the pianoforte until his guests politely suggested that it was time for them to go.

* * *

After Northover and Pettigrew had departed, and Georgiana had gone to bed, Darcy returned to his lounge. The fire had died down to a few glowing embers.

The room smelled of cigar smoke; the house was still. He sat into the night, thinking of how to proceed, what he must do to prevent the dismal affair.

The fire was completely out, the decanter of brandy empty, and he was so lost in thought that he did not notice.

He must prevail upon his aunt to do the right thing rather than the profitable one. And he would have to do this in person; a letter would not suffice in so important matter.

He resolved to wrap-up his business dealings to the extent he could as soon as possible, after which he and Georgiana would make the trip to Rosings Park. He would send his aunt a letter announcing his intention to visit at Christmas after all.

Lady Catherine would be pleased to see them at Christmas he believed, and, with persistence and the right attitude, he was sure he would be able to make her see reason. He had to.

The irony of the situation struck him, even as he made the decision: here he was, determined to increase the wealth of Pemberley—that was why he was in London and had planned to Christmas in town—and now he was going to put business aside to urge his aunt to set aside her pecuniary interests, and the finances of Rosings Park, in favor of the people who depended on her to show them kindness and mercy.

Darcy was aware that by doing this he was not enhancing Pemberley’s wealth as he’d planned, and that he was instead compromising himself and his freedom in choosing a wife. Thoughts of Miss Elizabeth Bennet intruded, but he pushed them to the back of his mind.

First things first. Once he had made his aunt see reason, and put a stop to her steward’s scheme, he would again throw himself into business and increase Pemberley’s wealth more than the cost to it of Georgiana’s settlement. He would put Elizabeth Bennet out of his mind until then. Thank God he didn’t have to see her.

But there was something he had to do concerning her that he’d been putting off for too long, and that he ought to do before leaving London.