Page 12 of Fitzwilliam Darcy An Honourable Man
London
A Townhouse
Grosvenor Square
George Wickham felt ill. Not only had the dreary weather, constant rain, and lightning brought down his spirits, but also the sway of the carriage as it lumbered along the uneven streets did not aid his queasy stomach either. His unsettled constitution might have reflected the excessive amount of brandy he had consumed the night before, but more than likely was due to his dread of this afternoon’s meeting.
Lately his business associate, Count Stefano, had become quite hard to anticipate. Exceedingly cheerful one day, he could be equally gloomy the next, and his temper was violent when stirred. In addition, the man was either trying to swindle him or had begun to experience lapses in memory regarding their agreements on monetary matters. This was quite irritating to Wickham, as he had bargained with his own associates based on what he expected to be paid.
The man is certainly peculiar! But then again, any man who would abandon wealth and privilege for life as a rake and a thief has to be peculiar. Could he not have pretended to be a gentleman for his father’s benefit and carried on with his amusements in secret?
When the charismatic man had first made Wickham the temping offer of becoming rich with hardly any effort on his part, he had identified himself only as Count Stefano. Nevertheless, thieves are not a trusting lot, and Wickham trusted no one, especially not this count . Thus, before throwing his lot in with the stranger, howbeit a seemingly wealthy one, Wickham put word on the street that he would pay for information leading to the count’s identity. What he had discovered was astonishing.
The man who called himself Count Stefano was actually Stephen Stanton, Viscount Glascomb, heir to Lord Stanton, a former diplomat and well-liked member of the ton . Apparently, father and son were estranged, and whatever their disagreement, it had resulted in the son’s return to Italy to reside with his mother’s family as he neared thirty. Upon returning to England years later, he called himself Count Stefano Gianni Montalvo de Cavour, a title apparently inherited when his maternal grandfather died.
Wickham’s sources also uncovered evidence of the Count’s many liaisons with wealthy widows and heiresses, each dalliance mysteriously increasing his coffers. There was proof that he had married at least one extremely wealthy widow, a Lady Marlton, who had died soon after the wedding. However, most surprising was the rumour that he had never bothered to rid himself of one wife before acquiring another.
The final report, which was unproven, suggested he had married Anne de Bourgh, taken her dowry and then abandoned her. Wickham smiled to himself, remembering his meeting Miss de Bourgh and the imperious Lady Catherine de Bourgh once at Pemberley. The old bat had practically spit on him when she learned he was the steward’s son.
Just at that moment, the carriage came to an abrupt halt, jarring him from his contemplations. Sighing audibly, Wickham stepped from the carriage, instinctively peering up at the three-storey Georgian facade of the townhouse the Count was renting. It always put him in mind of Darcy’s residence only a few streets away. His head naturally turned in that direction as feelings of deprivation rushed over him. If old George Darcy had been a decent godfather or his son a better man, he might also be living in this elite section of town . Determined not to be distracted by old wounds while there was business of import to conduct, Wickham turned and pasted a smile on his face as he briskly ascended the steps.
To his surprise, the elaborate front door opened before he could knock, and a small, dark-skinned butler immediately reached for his coat and hat, nodding, though he did not say a word. A maid, arranging a vase of flowers on a table under an elaborate mirror, lowered her eyes and turned away. Wickham tried to recall if he had seen these servants on his last visit, as the count’s servants seemed to change regularly. Instantly, his thoughts were halted by the sound of Stefano’s voice reverberating throughout the house via the open drawing room door.
“Do not make excuses!” Stefano bellowed. “I do not want to hear them. You have had ample time! You were hired to tell me if she is alive, and if so, where she is at present! You take my money, but you bring me no satisfaction!”
After exchanging worried glances, the butler moved into a dark corner near the front door, while a maid scurried out of sight. Observing the servants’ discomfort, Wickham was amazed that the count had not at least closed the door, though the outburst was just as likely heard in the park across the street.
“It seems as if she disappeared from the face of the earth. I cannot find evidence that she lives or conclusive evidence that she died in the fire. The housekeeper feigns no knowledge of her after the catastrophe. She says there were numerous bodies that were burned beyond recognition. And, you know of the marked grave in Meryton.”
“I am not convinced of her death, even though her mother assures me it is true! Someone knows more than they are saying! Question everyone—present and former servants, and the locals! Pay them to talk! Do not come back to me without accurate information again! Do you understand?”
The voices and footsteps kept getting closer, and Wickham distinctly heard someone say, “Yes. Yes. I understand,” just as a man backed out of the drawing room, the count following close behind.
Wickham had never seen Stefano so angry—face contorted and shaking with rage— but the count stopped abruptly when he became aware of his presence. Somewhat embarrassed to find he had an audience, Stefano carefully adjusted his waistcoat, while waving his hand in dismissal at other man. “Get out of my sight until you have what I want!”
With that pronouncement, the little man turned and hurried towards the now open front door. Grabbing the coat and hat offered by the equally fearful butler, he never slowed down or bothered to don them as he ran down the front steps.
“Mr. Wickham,” Stefano turned now to him, his green eyes still flashing angrily, “I hope at least you have some good news for me.”
Wickham bowed slightly, trying not to let his uneasiness show. “I believe you will be pleased with my report.”
“Come then.” Stefano waved towards an open door. “Tell me something that will make me smile.” As Wickham moved in that direction, Stefano addressed an older woman who emerged from a nearby doorway. He was curt. “Signora Giovanni, send a tray of refreshments to my study.”
She bobbed, cutting her eyes towards Wickham before they settled on the count again. “Yes, sir.”
Entering the study, Wickham began perusing the well-appointed room as any thief would, noting that it was expensively furnished with rich wood furniture, oil paintings, imported carpets, silver services and china figurines. All their previous talks had been in the drawing room, and it was not nearly this well-appointed. His examination abruptly ended with the sound of the door closing, and he followed the count with his eyes as he moved to sit behind the desk and motioned for him to take the chair in front. As Stefano leaned back in his chair, seeming to relax a bit, he fixed his steely gaze on Wickham.
“Now, what do you have for me?”
Wickham pulled a piece of paper from inside his coat and leaned across the desk to place it in front of Stefano. “This is an inventory of the objects that I delivered this very morning, signed by your contact at the wharf.”
Listed were several cases of silver serving pieces, silver candelabrums, gold and silver boxes, gold pocket watches and numerous necklaces, brooches and bracelets with precious stones and pearls. The count’s face lit up, and he looked pleased for the first time that day.
“I am suitably impressed with your inspiration to use this woman for her connections and knowledge of their valuables. She has made a great difference in the number and quality of items procured. What did you say her name was?”
“As I said before, she wishes to remain anonymous.” Wickham knew it would anger him, but he did not trust the count. What was to keep him from dealing directly with Mrs. Preston and cutting him out of the arrangement altogether?
Stefano’s smile did not change, though his eyes betrayed his displeasure. “She must be a lady of some means, I suppose, since she has the ability to gain access to the homes of people of quality.”
“Precisely.”
Stefano stood and turned to a picture behind his desk as if studying it. “You have doubled your profit in the last month. I would have liked to have had the lady’s cooperation much earlier or that of others like her.”
Wickham shifted in his chair. Mrs. Preston had fallen into his lap due to her love of the horses, inability to curb her habits and no ready income. However, all of the other ladies indebted to him had sufficient future income to pay their notes. “I have no other prospects. She agreed only because she was indebted to me and had need of extra income since her husband’s death.”
“A widow?” Stefano turned, rubbing his chin as a wicked grin spread across his face. “I have had great luck with widows.”
The smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and he seemed to sober, taking his seat again and beginning to play with a crystal paperweight. “I want you to know that I am going to leave England in the near future—perhaps several months, perhaps mere weeks. Whatever goods we acquire until then will have to suffice. Our partnership will end at that point, as I intend never to return.”
Wickham was taken aback. He had never given a thought to the end of their venture and, for a moment, he pondered how he would live without this source of income. He had just concluded that he would merely have to find another person to buy the stolen goods, when his thoughts were interrupted.
“You see, I am at present attempting to locate my wife, and when I find her, I shall finish my business ventures here and return to Italy with all due haste. She is very important to me, and I will not leave England without her.”
“Your wife?”
“Oh yes. I have been married for some time.”
Wickham’s thoughts returned to the report he had read, recounting the marriage to the very wealthy Lady Marlton a few years ago, and her subsequent death months later.
“And she is missing?”
“For several months now, though I was only recently informed.” Stefano appeared lost in thought before he spoke again. “I sent a personal representative to my father’s estate a while back, as I wanted him to look into some matters on my behalf. That was when I discovered she might not be ...”
His voice trailed off, and he stared into space as though there was something only he could see. Wickham had begun to wonder if the man had gone completely mad when he seemed to improve. “I have men looking for her even as we speak, and I have offered a handsome reward for knowledge of her whereabouts.”
“How handsome?” Wickham ventured.
“One thousand pounds for her location.”
“That is a substantial amount just for information. If you do not mind my asking, who is she?”
“No one of consequence—a penniless gentleman’s daughter from Hertfordshire. I daresay no one but I would want her.” He sighed heavily. “We were very happy until,” his voice took on an angry edge, “well, my father interfered. I fear whatever he told her must have had some bearing on her ... disappearance. Nevertheless, if I can find her, bring her home, I am certain we can be happy once more. In Italy, my mother’s family is well respected.” He smiled genuinely now. “You must think me daft pining for a woman, but she is the only person I have ever loved. She belongs to me, and if she is alive, I will not stop until I have her.”
“If she is alive?” Wickham repeated with some trepidation. “What do you mean?”
Realising his mistake, Stefano recovered. “I meant to imply that since she left my home unescorted, anyone could have harmed her. I hope to find her alive and well.”
Satisfied with that explanation, Wickham ventured, “Would you mind if I put word out among my various associates and see what pertinent information I can discover?”
“I appreciate all assistance, and I would just as soon pay you as anyone else.” He sat back down, and at the knock on the door called, “Come!”
Signora Giovanni entered noiselessly and set a tray of tea and cakes on the edge of his desk.
“Leave us!”
She quickly bobbed a curtsy and was out of the room by the time the count stood to pour himself a cup of tea.
“Let me tell you of the love of my life, Elizabeth.”
Rosewood Manor
Evan’s Birthday Dinner
Saturday Evening
Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam looked quite dashing in his regimentals, standing between Evan Ingram and Fitzwilliam Darcy in the receiving line. Georgiana had insisted that he and her brother join them in welcoming the guests, many of whom were their neighbours, to Evan’s birthday celebration. Evan was dressed in dark blue, in pleasant contrast to his wife’s light-blue silk-velvet gown, trimmed in white satin, overlaid with lace along the hem, sleeves and bodice. William, as usual, was impeccable in black, though tonight he wore a dark gold waistcoat embroidered with black thread in an intricate design, attributable to Mr. Adams, his valet. He had insisted that William needed to dress in a festive manner for Evan’s birthday celebration.
Richard was delighted to be in the receiving line, as he was at ease conversing with strangers, and his position of honour enabled him to meet eligible women. Normally he would arrange dance sets before all were spoken for, but tonight he intended to stay beside William, except when he danced with Georgiana. Glancing sideways at his dour cousin, he had to smile. There had been a steady stream of love-struck women trying to catch the eye of his handsome friend, and at this point, William looked as though he wished the earth would open up and swallow him. In fact, only Richard’s promise to stay close had persuaded him to attend when his courage had failed earlier that day.
Just as there was a fortuitous break in the never-ending trail of people, Richard leaned over to tease him. “Smile! You look exactly like one of the statues in your garden.”
William murmured under his breath, “At this moment I wish I were!”
Richard chuckled at William’s jest, glad that he was taking the attention in stride. “Do not worry, Cousin. I have good news. Evan told me that the Black Widow is returning to London with her uncle. And if there are other harridans present tonight, they will soon learn that I am on duty!
~~~*~~~
A few feet away, a group of said harridans were discussing how very happy they were that the elusive Mr. Darcy had decided to brave society once again.
“I think it is just criminal that a man of his wealth and good looks is not married,” Mrs. Gunter, a tall brunette, declared cutting her eyes to take in William’s handsome figure in the receiving line. The other women in the small circle were already looking in that direction.
“I would like to have had him myself,” Mrs. Madison retorted, her pink blush complimenting her red hair. “I certainly would have tried a compromise, but he hardly attended any of the soirees during my debut year. Then he disappeared off the face of the earth, and Father insisted I accept Mr. Madison’s offer.” She sighed heavily. “I would have waited forever, if he had so much as smiled at me.”
“Any of us would have, Pauline.” Mrs. Harding interjected, unashamedly undressing Fitzwilliam Darcy with lustful eyes. Mrs. Harding, the wife of one of Mr. Darcy’s classmates from Cambridge, had been thrown in his company often before her marriage. Though quite pretty with light brown hair and hazel eyes, she had never been able to draw the attention of Mr. Darcy.
“I admit to being attracted to him, but we should not be voicing such thoughts,” Mrs. Martindale, a short strawberry blond responded, glancing about to see if anyone outside their circle was listening. “He is exceedingly handsome, but we are all married.”
“I may be married, Abigail, but I am not dead!” Mrs. Nicholson exclaimed, her blue eyes focusing on the cut of William’s breeches. “Besides,” she whispered knowingly, her gaze fixed, “it is the accepted custom in our society for men to take mistresses and for us to take lovers. Just because one is on a diet does not mean she cannot read the menu.” She giggled.
“Julia!” Mrs. Martindale cried, quickly lowering her voice as several people turned to look. “That is not something one should discuss in public.”
Julia Nicholson tossed her dark curls saucily. “You are correct, Abigail. I intend to find somewhere private to discuss it—with Mr. Darcy.” Abigail gasped as the others giggled.
“If you have no objection, I will too!” Mrs. Madison added. “I have not had a real man since I married.”
Mrs. Nicholson smirked. “The more the merrier, I always say.”
~~~*~~~
At that moment, another simpering mother stopped to address Richard and push her pretty daughter ahead of her in line. Said daughter, of course, ended up standing directly in front of William, and as she did, the wrap around her shoulders began a slow slide down her arms. Before long, it was obvious that she wore an extremely low cut dress. Also obvious was the fact that she was well-endowed, and William could not help but notice. Both women were delighted to see his gaze dip to her cleavage. Just as quickly though, he brought his eyes back to her face, discomfited as he coloured. In return, she brandished a most provocative smile.
Being a man of normal appetites, William was not immune to a pretty face. Accordingly, he conceded that her light blue eyes and dark auburn hair were pleasing, but the look in her eyes mirrored the other women he knew in the ton . She did not look away, and his posture became rigid at the suggestiveness in her gaze. Noticing his reluctance to speak, her mother abandoned her idle chitchat with Richard in an attempt to salvage the opportunity.
Stepping towards William without taking her leave of Richard, she pulled her daughter closer. Richard shook his head as she exclaimed, “Mr. Darcy, you remember my Henrietta? I am sure you were introduced at Lady Matlock’s home a few weeks ago. Your aunt asked her to entertain at the pianoforte, and she was pleased to sing as well. My daughter is very accomplished and will make some man a wonderful wife.”
“I am afraid I did not have the honour.” William stated flatly, cutting his eyes to the mother. “In fact, I do not remember ever making your acquaintance either, madam.”
Those within range of his voice began to titter, drawing Georgiana’s attention. Flustered, the woman’s hands fluttered as if she were about to fly and was only able to utter, “Oh ... oh.”
Evan and Richard tried not to laugh aloud at William’s put-down, though their shoulders were shaking. Each slid a hand over his mouth as Georgiana glared at them and leaned over to address William.
“Brother, would you move this way, please? I need to confer with you on a matter of some import.” With a huge sigh of relief, William bowed slightly to the women before him and stepped behind Richard and Evan to take the place next to his sister.
“Thank you,” he breathed, slipping his arm around her waist and giving her a slight hug before releasing her.
Georgiana tried not to smile too as she looked toward the next guests. She gave his arm a small squeeze. “You are welcome.”
~~~*~~~
After dinner, Richard stood at the ballroom entrance with William trying to decide which corner his cousin should occupy while he had his dance with Georgiana. As William looked about to find his sister and brother, Richard leaned in to whisper, “Enemy at three o’clock.”
William frowned. “Speak plainly. I am not in the mood for riddles.”
“Then, by all means, let me explain. Your classmate’s wife, Mrs. Harding, and the little hens with her are having a grand time ogling you—or parts of you. If you imagine this room is a pocket watch, and we are standing at six o’clock, then they are at three o’clock. From the looks of it, I suspect you will have more than one offer tonight and from the remark you made earlier, I just imagine you can handle them quite well!”
Without thinking, William looked in that direction, which caused the ladies’ murmurings to increase. They all seemed to be speaking at once and looking his way. “Good Lord, Richard! They are all married!”
“I hate to be the one to inform you, but married women do have affairs.” Richard raised an eyebrow when William shot a glare at him.
“I am not so na?ve as to be ignorant of that fact, Cousin, but it repulses me. What kind of man do they think I am?”
“Apparently, a damned fine specimen!” Richard crowed with a smirk.
William valiantly attempted to restrain the smile threatening to curl his lips, but when Richard slapped his back, he lost his vaulted control. The steely reserve collapsed and a beautiful smile appeared with both dimples clearly visible. Quickly exiting onto a nearby balcony, both men laughed openly the minute they were out the door.
~~~*~~~
“Look! Oh, ladies, did you see!” Frances Madison turned back to her friends. “Is he not the handsomest man you have ever seen when he smiles? Oh, if only he would look at me like that!” She sighed, as did the others.
“It was worth the trip to Derbyshire just to see that man smile!” Her fantasy was interrupted by a firm hand on her shoulder, and the looks on the faces of her companions told the rest of the story.
“That is quite enough, Mrs. Madison. I believe it is time we danced.”
Twenty years her senior, Thurgood Madison was bald and almost as round as he was tall. The smile left her face as Frances placed her hand on her husband’s forearm, and he led her to the dance floor. Her great disappointment was promptly replaced with pleasure, however, when Mr. Darcy approached to stand next to her husband in line and Georgiana Ingram stood next to her, across from her brother. As the music began, Mrs. Madison raised her eyebrows towards the coterie observing her extreme fortune, and they acknowledged her good luck with nods of approval.
Perhaps if I am lucky, in this dance, we will change partners several times, and I shall have the opportunity to make my proposal.
~~~*~~~
William’s dance with Georgiana led to unavoidable dances with several wives and daughters from nearby estates. Afterward, two of his former classmates introduced their wives, and he felt obligated to dance with them as well. Having thoroughly exhausted every topic he could think to bring up in polite conversation, he had managed to retreat to the safety of a dark corner where Richard swiftly joined him.
Having just settled into his normal detached mien, William was beginning to relax a bit when he caught sight of a beautiful woman making her way across the room, eyes fixed on him. He groaned loud enough to attract Richard’s attention. He turned to study his cousin.
“What is the matter, Darce? You sound as though you are ill.”
“I may very well be shortly.”
Richard followed his gaze, and his thoughts flew to the time he had caught his cousin with this woman in his father’s library. “Oh, my Lord! I cannot believe she is back and has turned up here.”
Gwendolyn, Lady Waltham, now seven and thirty, was once the most beautiful woman in London, and she was still striking with her dark blond hair and cornflower blue eyes. At the time of Richard’s recollection, she was a recent widow of only seven and twenty. Even so, at that age, she was a seasoned huntress, and she had honed in on his handsome cousin for her next husband. Although he had just turned twenty, William was essentially an innocent when it came to women and had been ensnared by her schemes.
When George Darcy had learned of the affair, he had made quick work of rescuing his son, as well as shaming him for falling into her clutches. Not many months later, Mr. Darcy had died forcing Fitzwilliam to grow up overnight. Gwendolyn was left to move on to another—Lord Waltham—whom she married. She had moved to the southernmost part of Ireland, and as far as Richard knew, William had never dallied with another woman.
Now, Gwendolyn strolled directly to William as the conversations around them dwindled. Richard moved in closer to his cousin, an icy stare fixed on the intruder. Even those that were not old enough to remember the rumours of ten years before, realised that there must be something afoot and held their breath. “Mr. Darcy ... Fitzwilliam. I had the great pleasure of meeting Cecile Preston before I left London and learned that she was related to dear Georgiana. She said you had returned to England, and well, I just had to come tonight to welcome you back. I regret I was delayed by carriage trouble and have only just arrived.”
William managed to appear indifferent. “Lady Waltham, I hope you have been well.”
She held out her hand, and he hesitated before realising that everyone was waiting to see what he might do. Taking it, he bowed slightly over it without raising it to his lips. Gwendolyn was vexed but pretended not to notice as she continued.
“I am well, Fitzwilliam. I lived in Ireland until Lord Waltham died.” She raised her brows as if waiting for his reply, and when he said nothing, she leaned in to murmur in a low voice, “I must say, the young boy I knew has become a very handsome man. I have missed our,” she paused as her eyes travelled down his body, “ friendship .”
Cecile Preston appeared beside them out of nowhere. “Gwendolyn, darling, I had no idea you would be here.” The venom in her voice was unmistakable. “However did you manage to get here so quickly, and if I remember correctly, without an invitation?”
The ice in Gwendolyn Waltham’s voice balanced the fire in her eyes. “I was invited, Cecile, dear, to accompany Lord and Lady Greenwich, Evan Ingram’s great aunt and uncle to Derbyshire. It is fortuitous that my aunt, who is leasing my estate just outside Lambton, and Lady Greenwich are best friends, is it not?” Not expecting an answer, she went on. “Lady Greenwich insisted that I attend the party with them.”
“I see.” Mrs. Preston declared, glaring first at the interloper and then at William. “I see.” She flounced away to Lady Gwendolyn’s chuckle.
“What a wallflower! It will be a miracle if she marries again!” She looked back to William and sobered at the look on his face. “Do not tell me you have feelings for that mousey little thing.”
“No, madam. I have no feelings for her or for you. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to find my sister.” He turned and walked away. Richard did not bother to hide his amusement as he followed.
Looking around to find every eye upon her, Gwendolyn’s lips curled into a determined smile as she walked in the opposite direction.
Humph! I do not give up so easily, darling. I am sure you have not forgotten our lessons.
A balcony
Looking into the clear night sky dotted with seemingly millions of stars, William sighed as he recalled last night. He had gone to Elizabeth’s room to make sure she was well and say goodnight. Instead of finding her abed, waiting his usual visit, he had found her on the balcony, dressed only in her nightgown, staring at these very stars.
“ Elizabeth?” Her head turned, but she did not move. “You should not be out here dressed like that!”
She did not reply, only turning back to her study. He moved behind her, unbuttoning his coat and pulling her into the warmth of his body before folding the coat around her. She melted into him as always, and he had to fight his desire for more.
They stood that way for far too long as he talked of the constellations and stars, and she looked wherever he pointed in the velvety darkness. It took great effort for him to finally pick her up and bring her back into the house, depositing her on the bed. As she sank into the soft mattress and pillows, he kissed her forehead and began to massage first one cold foot, and then another, her eyes closing in response to the pleasurable feelings he elicited.
As her breath settled into a continuous rhythm, he watched the steady rise and fall of her chest for a bit, dreaming of a time when he could stay with her the entire night. Then standing, he pulled a blanket and the counterpane over her, tucking it in. He leaned in for one last kiss on the forehead, but paused. She looked so beautiful that instead he brushed her lips lightly with his. Unaware of the stolen kiss, she slept on.
“It is difficult at best to dance out here.”
He startled as Georgiana’s voice broke through his thoughts. William chuckled a little, though he kept staring into the darkness, refusing to face her. “I am glad to hear it, as I was hoping that was the case.”
“And you are not likely to meet any eligible women out here either.”
“Is that why you invited me?”
“Not truly, at least not anymore. But I cannot deny I want you to fall in love and marry.”
She studied him as he studied the stars. “I assume, since you are out here, that the group of ladies shadowing your every move, all married if I remember correctly, made some offers.”
William chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Only two, and they are married to men I admire, not that I would ever be tempted to accept.”
Georgiana squeezed his arm. “Of course you would not, but do not let these women dissuade you. There is someone who will make you the perfect wife.”
“What if I have already met the only woman I will ever love?”
Georgiana felt hot tears fill her eyes. “But, Fitzy, you cannot marry her. And what of the children you always wished for?”
“I would be happy with her alone, if she just recovers and will have me.”
“You would give up your wish for an heir?”
“You do not have children, and your marriage is happy.”
“Yes, yes it is.” She faltered. “Though Evan and I are still hopeful.”
“I am sorry, Gigi. I was not thinking. I should not have said that.”
“No apology needed. It is just a fact. But you would not even have what Evan and I have—a marriage. How can you exist being near her but not being able to have her, to make love to her as your wife?”
“I do not know. I only know that I cannot let her go.” He turned away and his head dropped. Swiftly she stepped close behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and laying her head against his back. She held him tightly until he stopped shaking.
Finally letting go, she took his hand and pulled him around to face her. “I have not really thanked you for coming tonight. I would not have blamed you for staying home after what I did.”
“Let us not mention it again.” William said softly. “I wanted to come to honour Evan and to see you.”
“Dare I ask how my distant cousin, Miss Lawrence, is faring?”
“She is,” he searched for words that would be truthful but not upsetting to his repentant sister, “she has not responded as well as before. But I have hope that she will improve.”
She dropped her head and leaned into his chest. “I am so sorry. So very sorry.”
“I know.”
She pulled back to look up at him. “Evan and I talked about taking my drawing supplies to Pemberley to show her a little of how I learned to draw, or I could even draw a picture for her—that is, whenever I see her again.” She spoke rapidly as if any minute he might stop her, then smiled sheepishly. “I am rambling.”
He smiled. “Yes, you are, but I like your suggestion. Elizabeth has always shown a keen interest in learning.” He saddened a little. “When I knew her before, at Meryton, she was a voracious reader and knowledgeable about so many things. I feel certain she would be interested in whatever you would be willing to show her, though it may take time and effort.”
“But I have plenty of time and want to make the effort. Please let me.”
William pulled her into a hug. “Soon.”
~~~*~~~