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Fitzwilliam glanced at him, then away. “One would be hard-pressed not to admire such qualities.”

“And yet you never mentioned this admiration.”

“What would be the purpose?” Fitzwilliam asked, a hint of resignation entering his voice. “I am a second son, Darcy. My prospects, while respectable, are limited. Miss Bennet deserves security and comfort that I cannot provide.”

“You underestimate yourself,” Darcy countered. “Your position in society is hardly insignificant.”

“Perhaps not,” Fitzwilliam conceded. “But neither is it sufficient to support a wife without considering financial matters.” He paused, then added with a forced lightness, “Besides, it appears Bingley’s prior claim is to be honoured. The matter is settled.”

Darcy studied his cousin thoughtfully. Fitzwilliam had always been practical about his prospects as a younger son.

He had chosen a military career knowing it offered respectability if not great wealth, and had conducted his affairs with careful attention to financial realities.

That he would step aside if he believed Jane’s affections were engaged elsewhere was entirely in keeping with his character.

“Did you never consider making your interest known to Miss Bennet?” Darcy asked.

Fitzwilliam gave a short, humourless laugh. “When? During those disastrous days in the wake of Wickham’s death, when we were all desperately trying to contain a situation far out of hand?”

There was a hint of bitterness in his tone that Darcy had rarely heard from his even-tempered cousin. It confirmed the depth of feeling Fitzwilliam was attempting to conceal.

“I did not realise,” Darcy said quietly.

“There was nothing to realise,” Fitzwilliam replied, his composure returning. “A passing admiration, nothing more. Miss Bennet’s happiness is the important consideration, and if that lies with Bingley, so be it.”

Darcy weighed his next words carefully. “And if her happiness might lie elsewhere? Would you not wish to know?”

Fitzwilliam stood abruptly, turning to face the lake rather than his cousin. “It is not a question worth entertaining, Darcy. Miss Bennet and Bingley were practically engaged before your interference. It is right that they should have their chance at happiness now.”

“Even at the cost of your own?”

“I am hardly pining away,” Fitzwilliam said with forced levity. “There are many suitable young ladies in London. My mother introduces me to at least three at every social gathering she arranges.”

Darcy recognised the deflection but chose not to press further. His cousin’s feelings were clearly stronger than he wished to admit, but forcing a confession would serve no purpose.

“In any case,” Fitzwilliam continued, clearly eager to change the subject, “our immediate concern is Miss Lydia’s situation. I believe we should depart for Leicester tomorrow rather than waiting another day. The sooner the matter is resolved, the better.”

“You may be right,” Darcy agreed, rising to join his cousin. “I shall make the necessary arrangements.”

They began walking back toward the house, the conversation turning to practical matters of travel plans and the documentation needed for the marriage. Fitzwilliam spoke with his usual efficiency about these details, but Darcy noted the underlying tension that remained in his bearing.

As the house came into view, Darcy considered whether to mention his observations to Elizabeth.

On one hand, she knew her sister better than anyone and might have insights into Jane’s feelings that he lacked.

On the other, if Jane’s affections were indeed engaged to Bingley, introducing another possibility would only complicate matters further.

“Darcy,” Fitzwilliam said as they approached the terrace, “I would appreciate your discretion regarding our conversation.”

“Of course,” Darcy replied. “Though I wonder if you do yourself a disservice by remaining silent.”

Fitzwilliam shook his head slightly. “Some battles cannot be won, cousin. And some should not be fought at all.” With that cryptic remark, he quickened his pace toward the house, effectively ending the conversation.

Darcy followed more slowly, troubled by this unforeseen complication. He had always respected his cousin’s judgment, particularly in matters of propriety and conduct. If Fitzwilliam had chosen to step aside in favour of Bingley’s prior connection to Jane, perhaps that was the honourable course.

Yet he could not help but wonder if Jane Bennet, with her gentle manner and desire to please others, might accept Bingley’s renewed attention out of a sense of obligation rather than genuine preference.

Elizabeth had spoken of her sister’s tendency to hide her true feelings, to present always what others wished to see; it was that very tendency which had convinced Darcy that Jane did not truly care for Bingley in the first place, an argument Darcy had used when arguments about the suitability of the match had fallen on deaf ears.

As he reached the terrace, Darcy sighed, recalling his resolution not to interfere again in Jane and Bingley’s relationship, having learned that painful lesson, but he did not think he could merely stand by if he suspected Jane’s happiness might be sacrificed to politeness or expectation.

For now, however, Lydia’s situation demanded his full attention. The matter of Jane, Bingley, and his cousin’s unexpected feelings would have to wait. One family crisis at a time was quite sufficient.