Page 21

Alameda laughed but allowed him the diversion. “Oh Darcy, you charmer. My dear boy has just turned four, the very image of his grandfather.”

“The Earl?”

There was a flicker in the Lady’s eyes that Fitzwilliam could not interpret. “Oh… I hadn’t thought of that, but perhaps he does have a bit of Lord Matlock about the eyes. No, I meant my own father, the late Baron Asbury.”

Darcy wondered at her response while they were separated by the dance but knew he should not let her take control of the conversation again for fear her next invitation was not as easily deflected.

“Of course. It must be delightful to watch your child growing up on the same estate where you yourself spent your youth.”

The set came to an end and as they made their final obeisance she looked him full in the face.

“Yes. Yes, it is.” The Viscountess looked oddly vulnerable for a moment before her eyes focused over Darcy’s shoulder and any softness instantly disappeared.

“Thank you for such a lovely dance, Mr. Darcy,” she cooed, holding out her hand for him to kiss before moving off to several of her cronies, leaving Fitzwilliam to wonder if he had imagined her reaction.

What on Earth am I doing here? he wondered as he worked his way through the crowd to find a place along the wall, his stony visage an expression that Hertfordshire’s society would have recognized instantly.

The ball was already a crush and he could see that people were still arriving.

There were entire rooms into which he had not yet ventured.

Even if by some ridiculous twist of fate, Elizabeth appeared at the ball, he doubted they would meet in the swirl of silks and glitter of jewels.

Not that he was looking for her, he assured himself.

Although he desperately wished to escape the function, Darcy forced himself to maneuver through the mob into one of the rooms in which a light buffet had been set.

Seeing several of his more agreeable Fitzwilliam cousins, he joined them at a table and ate quietly while they chatted about the evening.

“Darcy, where have you been?” asked Lady Ellen. The second eldest of the Fitzwilliam children, she was more than five years older than her cousin and saw it as her duty to regularly step in as the elder sister he lacked.

Will relaxed his mask enough to venture a weak smile. “I arrived a bit late, but I did have the honor of dancing a set with Lady Alameda.”

Ellen had a similarly low opinion of her sister-in-law and patted his arm comfortingly.

“Poor Wills. Did she leave any claw marks? There must be a doctor about if you require stitches.” She was pleased to coax a chuckle (camouflaged as a cough) from her very serious cousin.

“Not to worry; just stay close to me and Olivia— we shall protect you from the vipers.” She turned to respond to a question asked on her other side, leaving Darcy to his thoughts.

Watching the young (and not so young) ladies titter and flirt with the gentlemen, Darcy was struck by a revelation.

Jane Bennet had acted the perfect example of proper, ladylike behavior.

He had informed Bingley that he had seen no evidence of affection but really, if he had, would he not have condemned her as too forward?

A flirt no better than these supposedly well-bred Society ladies he despised?

Which would he want Georgiana to emulate, Lady Alameda or Miss Bennet?

Why had he been so determined to condemn the Bennets?

Not much later, Darcy excused himself and began the exhausting process of working his way toward the mansion’s entrance (or, in his case, its exit).

In the next to last room, a husband and wife known to Darcy greeted him and then asked leave to introduce their niece, Miss Elizabeth Barnett.

Having only caught a glimpse of a dark-haired young lady in yellow standing behind them, Darcy started upon hearing her name and turned to her with an intent look that descended rapidly into a frown when he realized that it was not her .

Fortunately, Colonel Fitzwilliam had appeared at his elbow at just that moment and, after charmingly begging an introduction, swept the young lady off for a set.

Darcy spent some minutes speaking with the couple (pleasant but dull) although most of his attention remained focused on his cousin.

Richard spoke easily, smiling and flirting, and soon the young lady had recovered her spirits from the odd reaction of the handsome Darcy heir.

Will had just collected his coat and hat when Richard appeared at his side again. “Darce! Are you off? Mind if I beg a ride? I’ve had quite enough of this crush.” Darcy agreed and indicated that he would wait outside while the Colonel collected his coat.

When Richard emerged, he trotted down the pink marble steps but came to a halt when he noticed his cousin.

Darcy had stepped off the street into the front garden, a lilac bush hiding him from most passers by.

He had removed his hat and was staring up at the stars with a nearly desperate look of melancholy etched upon his face.

A moment later, the spell was broken. A boy ran up the sidewalk and called, “Mr. Darcy, sir? Your man’s just pulling the coach around.”

Firmly resettling his beaver, Mr. Darcy turned toward the voice. “Thank you.” Tossing a copper to the urchin, he nodded at Fitzwilliam and the two men moved toward the carriage.

Richard watched his cousin’s mask descend.

His own duties had been keeping him so busy that he had not seen Darcy since their return from Kent.

He recalled that that carriage ride had been mostly silent but he had assumed his cousin was unsettled after confronting Lady Catherine.

Now Richard was not so sure and he had a sneaking suspicion as to what, or rather who , was the cause of his cousin’s angst.

As the two men settled back into the cushioned seats, Richard stretched his legs out and sighed. “’Tis a beautiful evening. Almost seems a waste to take a carriage instead of walking. ”

Darcy managed a smirk. “Dancing yourself to exhaustion?”

Richard was pleased to see a spark of liveliness in his cousin.

“I’ll have you know I’ve been up since four, drilling a new batch of recruits.

Bloody fools, the lot of them! By God, how I wish, just once, these families would consider their sons’ aptitudes when buying their commissions instead of which uniform looks most impressive, or matches the boy’s eyes or…

Oh, Hell’s bells, I don’t know… I swear, one of the lads doesn’t know one end of a horse from the other but he can swim like a fish.

And why was he sent into the cavalry instead of the navy?

His mother likes red coats better than blue. Bloody fools, God help them.”

Darcy had listened to his cousin’s grievances before.

Although he had no first-hand knowledge of military life, he could comprehend the frustration of working with underlings whose talents were not best matched to their tasks.

With his households and estates, Pemberley’s master had a certain freedom to move people to positions for which they were best suited.

He could easily comprehend the Colonel’s frustration at not being able to do so.

When the carriage pulled up at the Darcy townhouse, Richard accepted an invitation to come in for a nightcap. “Although if you have any more of that excellent brandy, you may have to lend me a bed for the night.”

Darcy chuckled warily, knowing from painful experience that his older cousin had a much better head for liquor than he himself did.

The two men left their coats and hats with the butler and Richard headed to his cousin’s library while Darcy checked for messages.

Smiling to himself when he found a full decanter of fine French brandy, the Colonel poured out two generous snifters.

He sniffed and tasted it out of habit. However, rather than savoring the brandy (however excellent), the majority of his thoughts focused on how best to tease out the cause of his favorite cousin’s melancholy.

When Darcy entered, he received the snifter with a nod of appreciation and both men settled into the comfortable armchairs arranged by the fire.

“Did you see that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was at the ball?” inquired Richard with a studied insouciance even as he watched his cousin out of the corner of his eye.

“Barnett, not Bennet. And of course I saw her; I was the one who made the introduction before you asked her to dance,” answered Darcy grumpily.

“Oh no, it was Miss Elizabeth Bennet from Kent. Or rather, Hertfordshire, I suppose. I wasn’t able to get to her in the crush—just caught a glimpse across the room. She arrived with a couple, slightly older, very fashionable. Didn’t Miss Bennet have an aunt and uncle in London?”

By now, Will’s heart was pounding and his mouth was dry. “Yes; the Gardiners.”

“Perhaps we should call on them. Do you know their address?” Richard probed.

“Gracechurch Street. Near Cheapside .” Darcy was barely able to unlock his jaw enough to choke out the words and unconsciously leaned away from his cousin, dreading his response. When it came, he was stunned.

“Hmmm… that makes sense. They were fashionable and obviously well-known but I didn’t recognize them from my parents’ set. Do you know where on Gracechurch Street?” Richard was increasingly certain of his suspicion that his cousin had developed a tendre for Miss Bennet.

“Fashionable and well-known?” Darcy couldn’t hide all of his shock. “It was common knowledge in Hertfordshire that Elizabeth’s uncle is in trade. Since when is Cheapside fashionable?” He did not even notice his slip in calling her by her first name.