Page 24

Two days after his conversation with Richard, Darcy attended a dinner party at the Earl of Matlock’s London home.

Will’s Aunt Eleanor was one of the most revered hostesses in High Society and he was looking forward to an enjoyable evening.

On this occasion, five of the six Fitzwilliam offspring would be in attendance and so Darcy arrived early with Georgiana, hoping to spend some pleasant time with their extended family.

Instead, he was treated to several adult siblings bickering like spoilt children, the Earl sitting by the fire with his daughter’s father-in-law making sport of their offspring (the two had started drinking before lunch at their club and were already well-sauced), and his normally imperturbable aunt standing in the hall screaming at a maid and the housekeeper like a fishwife.

Later, when the men gathered for port after supper, the Colonel’s elder brother asked about their trip to visit the “Kentish witch” which led to a lengthy argument among Ashbourne, Richard, and their father over nicknames for Lady Catherine.

The battle-ax was finally voted most popular, although harridan, gorgon and Medusa were close seconds.

Darcy stood by the fireplace cringing as three of his closest male kinsmen openly disparaged their relation as entertainment for the other guests.

When the men finally returned to the ladies in the drawing room, Lady Lucy, the youngest of the Fitzwilliam clan, jumped up to greet her favorite brother.

“Richard, you will never guess what we’ve just heard— it’s just the funniest thing!

You remember Lady Mayberry? The Earl of Malmesbury’s eldest daughter?

Nasty freckled little thing but with such a dowry and connections she’s being sold as the greatest beauty of the season. ”

Richard chuckled. “Would that be the young lady with the… distinctive laugh?”

“Like a horse!” contributed Lady Ellen.

Lucy bounced and clapped her hands in glee. “The very one! Well, Lady Sackett said that…”

Darcy closed his eyes and sighed, trying to block out the story which appeared to involve the Earl’s young daughter drinking too much rum punch at a ball and then loudly demanding that the orchestra play a waltz, while neither of her parents did anything to check her behavior.

He sighed again and looked to his sister.

Georgiana was sitting next to her Aunt Eleanor, appearing as if she wished to hide behind the sofa or barring that, at least plug her ears.

It was not very long before Darcy decided that there did not seem to be much hope of his own family providing him with evidence to support his predetermined superiority over the Bennets.

Making his way to his sister’s side, he asked quietly, “Georgie? Are you ready to return home?” His sister had not the courage to whisper a word but relief left her eyes shiny with unshed tears.

After performing his goodbyes and deflecting some off-color remarks by his Cousin Edward (now well in his cups) regarding Darcy’s plans for later in the evening, he was vastly relieved to take Georgiana’s hand and depart.

As the Darcy siblings walked across the square to their own house, he pondered whether the Fitzwilliams had always been so rowdy or if he had simply never acknowledged it.

He was rather relieved to drop this line of introspection when he felt his sister’s small, gloved hand squeeze his arm slightly.

“Brother?” asked a whispery voice.

“Yes Georgie? Did you enjoy the evening?” Darcy asked, concerned.

“Oh… yes. It’s so… lively when all of our cousins are at home. I used to think it was the holiday spirit when we went to Matlock for Christmas and it seemed so much more… jolly … than Pemberley, but it isn’t, is it? It’s just their natural state when the family gets together.”

“And loves each other, warts and all,” murmured Darcy, half to himself.

Georgiana giggled softly, thinking that he was referring to the discussion of nicknames for their Aunt Catherine.

As the two climbed the front steps of their own house, Will bent and lightly kissed his little sister on her forehead. “Well poppet, what shall it be? Shall we bang the keys in the music room or perhaps go sliding around in our stocking feet in the ball room?”

“Oh Wills, you would never do such things. I know you must be tired and have business to attend. Shall you have time to take breakfast with me tomorrow?” Georgiana was handing her coat to the butler and peeked up at her brother for just an instant, but in that moment he was staggered by how eager his sister was for just a few minutes of his time.

“Yes. Yes, of course. Nine o’clock?”

“Oh thank you, Brother!”

“It would be an honor and a pleasure,” he replied solemnly with a deep bow. Then more softly, “Good night, Georgie. Sweet dreams.”

“Good night, Wills.”

As Georgiana climbed the stairs to her apartment, Darcy watched her for a moment before dismissing the servants for the night and making his way to the library.

After pouring himself a glass of wine (he was off brandy since the evening with Richard), Fitzwilliam settled into the large wing chair with his feet stretched out to the fire. He felt off balance.

Looking into his sister’s eyes that evening, Will had seen an upwelling of emotion that his own heart easily recognized—loneliness.

He took a sip of the wine and considered it.

He worked hard to make sure that Georgiana had all the accoutrements appropriate for a young lady of her station.

He had conferred with his aunts and female cousins regarding masters and schools, dress makers and dance instructors. But what were those but things?

Who did his sister spend time with? Paid companions and servants?

Their cousins were kind to her but even the youngest Fitzwilliam cousin was almost a decade older.

He knew Georgiana occasionally had callers for tea but those were almost universally ladies of Miss Bingley’s ilk who were attempting to capture his attention by ingratiating themselves with his sister.

Darcy groaned, took another sip from his glass and toed off his shoes.

What friends had he had when he was sixteen?

Within a year of his mother’s death, he had been sent off to school and his overarching memory was of deep, aching homesickness for Pemberley.

But when he thought more carefully, he realized that that was where he had met Bingley and various other friends.

He had joined various clubs—fencing, athletics, chess— and they had given him a sense of tribe.

How did young ladies make friends, he wondered. Exchange embroidery secrets?

Darcy sighed again and wiggled his stocking-clad toes in the firelight.

If Elizabeth were here, she would have taken up his notion and jollied him and Georgiana to slide around the ballroom in their stockings.

He could almost hear her laughter, like the peal of silver bells.

A sudden pain wracked his heart and he clenched his jaw.

She had refused him. She would never meet Georgiana and help his sister learn to laugh again.

They would never sit by the fire after an evening out and chat over their impressions of the other guests. He must overcome this!

Yet, when Fitzwilliam Darcy took the last sip from his glass and rested his head back into the cushions, it was but a moment before he was immersed in another dream of Elizabeth.

Over the last six months, he had dreamt that he had seduced her, that she had seduced him, that they had danced together, and that they had made love in a distant sunny meadow at Pemberley, but this dream was altogether new.

That night, in his exhaustion and loneliness, he dreamt that Elizabeth welcomed him into the bosom of her family.

He dreamt that Georgiana sat on the sofa in the Longbourn drawing room between Jane and Catherine Bennet, glowing with happiness while Mrs. Bennet bustled around mothering her.

He dreamt of himself on the other side of the room, playing chess with Mr. Bennet while debating philosophy and trading witticisms with him and his second daughter. He dreamt of being happy.

The next morning, it was only the deeply ingrained habit of rising with the sun that had Darcy leaving the warm cocoon of his bed in time to dress and meet his sister for breakfast. He found her in the family’s breakfast parlor, already drinking her coffee.

After their greetings, he filled his own plate and cup from the buffet laid out on a sideboard and sat at the small table.

The siblings ate quietly for some minutes, the only sound being the clink of silver on china.

Once he had eaten his fill, Darcy refilled his coffee cup and sipped thoughtfully, observing his sister out of the corner of his eye.

She had been upset the previous evening and he sensed that the tension remained.

After his contemplations the night before, he had resolved to encourage his sister to open up to him; he would try to aid her in making her own resolutions rather than making the decisions for her as was his habit.

He could almost imagine Elizabeth’s whisper in his ear, encouraging him to treat Miss Darcy as the young lady she was growing into rather than the baby sister he still saw in his mind’s eye.

Seeing that Georgiana appeared to be at a loss over how to begin, he again consulted his imaginary Elizabeth. She rolled her eyes, arched a brow, and reminded him to take the trouble of practicing his conversational skills. Taking another sip of his coffee, he thought for a moment and then spoke.