Page 18 of Done for the Best (Engaged to Mr Darcy #5)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A MAN ABOUT TOWN

S ince his time in Kent, Fitzwilliam had been out on some sort of business with his regiment. Engaged as he was in his own matters, Darcy had paid little attention to the particulars of his cousin’s whereabouts, but it was a relief to discover that the colonel was returned to London a few days after the disastrous scene on Gracechurch Street. Darcy found his cousin enjoying a hearty breakfast at his own breakfast table early one morning.

“There he is!” Fitzwilliam pointed towards him. “I was about to come up to your bedchamber and pull you out by your ankle.”

Darcy sat at the table and signalled to the footman for coffee. While it was poured, he rubbed his eyes roughly. “Barely slept,” he muttered.

“I am sorry to hear it,” Fitzwilliam said gravely. “Georgiana told me about…Miss Bennet. Is there any way I can help?”

Darcy knew he was in dire straits if Fitzwilliam did not tease him about it. If Saye behaved kindly, then he would know he was well and truly doomed. “Yes, well…I hope to rectify matters once her health is improved.”

“I am sure you will.” Fitzwilliam signalled for more coffee, then asked, “How do you think you might go about it?”

Darcy shrugged. “Write to her? Send gifts? Arrange for time spent in Hertfordshire…Bingley has made a purchase offer for Netherfield, so it is possible?—”

“That he will wish to invite you down for his honeymoon?” Fitzwilliam sniggered. “Even he is not so besotted with you as all that.”

“After his honeymoon, I meant,” said Darcy, although in truth, Bingley’s wedding had not been a part of his calculations. It would mean a delay, but how long was one required to celebrate a friend entering into a loveless marriage?

The door opened then, and Saye entered, tossing himself into the seat nearest Fitzwilliam. “I need something to do,” he announced. “There are no good scandals this Season! Nothing to gossip about, no one to cut. If someone does not jilt someone else, and soon, I shall go stark, raving mad.”

He then paused and made a face. In his nearest approximation of an apology, he said, “Of course I did not mean you , Darcy.” He then reached out to select a piece of bread from the basket on the table.

“Are people speaking of it?”

Saye gave a one-shouldered shrug, which Darcy took to mean yes, he was in fact the subject of gossip. Splendid.

“While we are on the subject of Darcy’s lost love—” Fitzwilliam began.

“Which we are not. I do not wish to speak of any of this.”

“You really shot into the brown on that one,” Saye informed him, blithely disregarding Darcy’s embargo.

“I disagree,” Fitzwilliam said. “It was done for the best.”

“If it was done for the best, our boy would not be sitting here all Friday-faced, would he?”

“He might be, if Miss Bennet had been so shocked that she had keeled over dead.”

Saye scoffed. “I doubt the shock would have killed her.”

“And with all your medical training plus the fact you scarcely know the lady, that is a very well-considered opinion.”

“Enough,” Darcy said tiredly. “If you two wish to bicker all day, pray do it somewhere besides my breakfast table. And pray, let us speak of anything else but Elizabeth.”

“Fair enough,” Saye announced cheerfully. “By the way, Darcy, you are not obliged to walk Anne down the aisle. My father will do it.”

“I did not realise I was obliged, but I am glad to know it came to naught. I had not heard the plans were fixed.”

“Lady Catherine has been in London since she left Kent,” Fitzwilliam replied. “It seems she must have overcome her dislike for the notion of Anne marrying anyone besides you, for she has the nuptials all set at St George’s and five hundred coming for the breakfast.”

Darcy was relieved a lighter subject had been introduced. He did not much enjoy being an object of pity, even if his present state was pitiable.

“And they mean to take a wedding trip to the Lakes afterwards. Perhaps you might see them at Pemberley.”

“No need to wait for an invitation these days,” said Darcy with mild reproof. In a trice, a vision appeared in his head—he and Elizabeth receiving guests at Pemberley—and his cousin was forgot. Elizabeth. He needed to write to her, today, a perfect letter that would somehow set things to rights and make her remember the good times they had shared together.

With a sigh, he rose from the table. “Excuse me, I have some business to attend to in my study. You both know the way out.”

The letter he needed to write was even more difficult than the one he had written after Elizabeth’s first rejection. This time there was no misunderstanding. He had lied, and she had caught him in it. George Wickham was not at fault this time; it was his own actions and presumptions which had sunk him.

After almost an hour complete spent staring at the blank page in front of him, he began to write. The words came slowly, almost painfully, and in the end, it was a full day’s work, crafting the best possible missive.

Dearest Elizabeth,

Pray know that above all things you are dear to me. Your happiness I hold well above my own, and the only thing I have wanted and wished for these months is your health and felicity.

I have erred, and there are no two ways to look at that. I own it completely. That I had the best of intentions, that I felt it was for your good, does not signify. I can well understand how very disturbing it has been to have lost the memories of almost a year of your life and regret deeply the role I played in your confusion. There is nothing I can say to any of this but to fall upon your mercy and beg your forgiveness.

I do not think you could justly say you were unaware of my love for you. From nearly the first moment of your awakening, your heart, unencumbered by the prejudices of our contentious past, knew it was for me, just as mine has long been for you. The days we spent in Kent, save for your illness, were nothing short of glorious, and they were made so because of the excellent harmony between us.

I beg that you would not throw aside our love for my error. You may feel you cannot trust me, but if I must prove my fidelity to you every day for the rest of our lives, I shall, happily and with gratitude.

My heart rests within your hands, my darling, and I pray you will not cast me aside.

I shall only add that I love you, deeply,

FD

As it was, it did not signify how long he had struggled over the exact right words and phrases to her. There was no reply, not to the first, not to any until the seventh letter was sent. Then he did receive a reply but not from Elizabeth.

My daughter has declined your proposal, sir, and as such I cannot condone the liberty you assume in writing to her. I thank you not to do so again.

Mr Bennet

“Think again, Bennet,” Darcy replied to the page. “You have not seen the last of me.”