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After satisfying himself with a kiss on her hand and receiving an affectionate look in return, Darcy watched Elizabeth and her family depart his uncle’s house in their carriage. With the exception of his Cousin Edward and that man’s unpleasant wife, the evening had gone rather well.

Not quite ready to face the dissection of the evening that was sure to be occurring in the drawing room, Will retreated to the library for a few moments of solitude. It had not been five minutes before the door opened and Colonel Fitzwilliam entered.

“Aha—I guessed I would find you hiding in here.”

Standing by the fireplace, Will smiled slightly and kicked the fender. “I needed a moment to collect myself before re-entering the fray.”

“Ah, that sounds more like the Darcy I know. I had begun to wonder after these past weeks—you’ve been positively giddy!” The sight of Darcy rolling his eyes made Richard laugh out loud and spill a few drops of the brandy he was pouring.

Will nodded when his cousin gestured to see if he wished a glass and the two settled into comfortable chairs before the fire.

After some minutes of silence, the younger man said thoughtfully, “I may not be giddy , but I am happy. It astonishes me, really. I’ll never be the sort that overflows with mirth, but there is such warmth in my heart.

It makes me feel rather guilty, for I had little cause to justify melancholy in my previous life. ”

Richard smirked to himself, vastly amused by his cousin’s recent habit of breaking his life into “before Elizabeth” and “after Elizabeth.”

Meanwhile, Darcy continued, “I would never have thought it of myself, but I begin to empathize with those couples who run off to Gretna Green… I finally understand the impatience—a month ‘til the wedding seems an interminable wait.”

When Richard snorted, Will stared at him blankly for a moment until his cousin’s prurient interpretation came to him.

Blushing, Darcy attempted to explain, “That’s not what I meant, Richard.

” At his cousin’s raised eyebrows, he was forced to admit, “Well, not entirely what I meant. It’s just that I am impatient to begin my life with her…

To talk to her every morning at breakfast…

To share a passage from a book or newspaper I am reading at just that moment.

It all sounds very silly to you, I’m sure. ”

Richard considered the other man for a moment, but chose to drop his teasing manner.

“You’ve done very well, Wills. I have every expectation that you and Miss Elizabeth will have the happiest marriage among the whole of our acquaintance.

And you must not feel guilty about it; you may have been born to wealth and consequence, but as a man, you’ve lived through more than your share of tragedy.

You’ve made a bold choice, choosing love over more material gains, and I truly hope that others in our circle will take your example to heart.

” He raised his glass and his cousin nodded back in appreciation.

However, the Colonel could not remain serious for long.

“And so, lest we have half of Society dropping dead from apoplexy that such a paragon of propriety as Fitzwilliam Darcy has broken so many of their cherished strictures, you shall just have to leave Gretna Green to the likes of George Wickham.”

A gruff voice boomed from the door. “George Wickham? Bah—that wastrel deserves nothing but a boot up his hindquarters.”

The Earl had entered the library.

Richard rose to pour his father a glass of brandy and top off his own.

As he did so, he entertained Matlock with Darcy’s fantasy of eloping and spun a tale of how Society would fall into ruin if the great, upstanding Master of Pemberley should continue to flout their hard-held values.

Lord Henry was amused, but Darcy remained silent.

Eventually, the Colonel’s wit ran dry and he turned on his cousin. “You are very quiet, Darce. Still considering the delights of breakfasts and books?” he teased.

Startled out of his deep reverie, Will replied with greater openness than he accustomed to doing. “No, my thoughts were on another.”

Richard was genuinely surprised. “What? Not daydreaming about the girl with the fine eyes, as our most quotable Miss Bingley is want to call her?”

“No, my mind was on someone quite different.”

“And dare I ask who has won such attention?”

His cousin paused a moment before admitting, “George Wickham.”

Matlock spoke for the first time in many minutes. “Bah. Don’t waste your thoughts on that sponger.”

Darcy looked at his uncle with some surprise. “Then you know of his habits? I’d believed that, like my father, you thought well of him. ”

Lord Henry waved his hand in disgust. “Oh, keeping track of young George is easy enough—Edward has often enjoyed his company. All I have to do is follow the trail of financial and moral wreckage.”

Matlock sighed and took another sip of brandy, but his two younger companions remained quiet.

That he disapproved of his heir’s profligacy (particularly after the Viscount had married and taken control of Lady Alameda’s considerable fortune) was well known within the family circle, but neither had guessed how much Matlock knew about Ashbourne and Wickham’s association.

“And he did not pull the wool over your father’s eyes quite as far as you might think,” added Lord Henry after a moment. “It was more a case of wishing that the boy would finally straighten out and amount to something that kept Darcy forgiving his missteps and giving him second chances.”

Several minutes passed as the men sipped their drinks in silence and contemplated the matter. When Fitzwilliam Darcy finally spoke, it was in a more tentative tone than was his habit since becoming Master of Pemberley. “Uncle, may I ask you a question?”

Lord Henry looked up at the serious tone. He nodded, although he dreaded what would come next. He was partially correct.

While Richard looked on curiously, Will considered how best to introduce a suspicion that had long troubled him.

After a moment, he began, “When I first went to school, several of our new acquaintances assumed that George Wickham and I were brothers. Not only because we roomed together and had the same accent, but because they saw a physical resemblance that I had never noticed.”

Richard was stunned to silence. He had never considered such a thing but was suddenly, uncomfortably aware of more than one similarity of feature.

Darcy was focused on the Earl, but the older man maintained a closed expression, staring into his glass while absently tracing the lip of the crystal with a finger.

“I never had the courage to ask, but the more I thought about it…” Will paused for a sip of his own wine.

“It would not be… unreasonable for a man of our station to arrange for his natural son to be adopted by his steward, nor to make that boy his godson, to be given every attention, including a gentleman’s education and a preferment for a valuable family living. ”

Matlock remained silent and for once Richard could not think of a single thing to say.

Having begun, Darcy could not seem to stop.

“Uncle, I know from my own observations that my father was not always faithful to my mother. Do you know… is George Wickham my brother?” Suddenly realizing how tightly he was clutching his brandy snifter, Will set it down before it could shatter in his hand.

Lord Henry sighed and forced himself to speak. “You’re close, lad, but it is not quite what you think. He’s not your half-brother, but your cousin.”

At that, the Colonel actually dropped his glass; it fell and rolled on the rug, spilling some wine but fortunately not breaking.

Feeling very old, Henry Fitzwilliam looked over at his second son. “And not what you are thinking either, Richard. Surely you know that your mother would tan my hide if I were ever to stray? Not that I ever wished to do so,” he mumbled.

Seeing the stunned look on the faces of both young men, Henry could not help but chuckle a little. “Well, well. Pour us all another round, son. We will need it if I’m to tell you the sad tale of George Wickham,” he added in a doleful tone.

Once Richard had done his father’s bidding, Matlock sat for some minutes, sipping his brandy and staring into the fire, until he finally decided how to begin.

“One summer—it was probably 1784 or 1785—the de Bourghs hosted a house party at Wolfram, the family estate in Kent which is entailed to their eldest son. Eleanor and I had only been married a few years—Edward was beginning to crawl and she had just told me that she was expecting Ellen. Neither of us had much liking for old Lord Maxwell de Bourgh, but my own father pressed us to accept the invitation and to take Anne. She had just come out that spring and my parents were eager to see her thrown in the way of such rich gentlemen as would be at such a party.”

Darcy rolled his eyes in commiseration; it was odd to think of his mother being trotted out like all the debutantes that he himself had worked so hard to avoid.

Lord Henry chuckled at his nephew’s expression. “In a way, I suppose it was successful. Though your father had danced with Anne once or twice during the Season, that party at Wolfram was the first time he had ever spent any significant amount of time in her company.”

He took another sip of brandy before continuing, “Your father was there with your grandparents, although old Worthington Darcy was not in the best of health.” The Earl smirked at the memory.

“You never knew him, Will, but your grandfather was something of a hypochondriac. He was a good man—serious, intelligent, and very gentlemanly… but he did worry about any little symptom that might indicate illness. Lady Edna was the force in that marriage—she more or less ran the estate from the moment she arrived at Pemberley and, I suspect, long after her husband’s death. ”