Page 10 of Rumours & Recklessness (Sweet Escapes Collection #1)

Chapter 9

E lizabeth had held true to her resolution to remain with her father that day. She sat curled by the window, a double-knitted blanket thrown over her lap and a book in her hands. Mrs Cooper had proven to be a wise, experienced nurse as well as a cheerful presence to keep her company in her sentry. She sat on the other side of the window opposite Elizabeth, comfortably crocheting a small cap.

“For my youngest daughter, Jenny, who was married this past spring,” she had confided with a secretive smile. Elizabeth watched her from the corner of her eye, admiring the woman’s dignified anticipation—so unlike her own mother’s unseemly excitement.

Jane knocked softly as she opened the door, carrying a tea tray. Elizabeth looked up with a welcoming half-smile. “How is Papa?” Elizabeth held her tongue, knowing Mrs Cooper’s more experienced opinion was what Jane sought.

“He has more colour, would you not agree? I have seen his eyes flutter a time or two. That is a good sign. Miss Elizabeth here has been reading aloud to him a bit. I think she ought to keep it up. I believe he likes it.”

Jane looked puzzled. “Can he hear us, do you think?”

Mrs Cooper made a small shrug. “Dr Cooper tends to think so, in these cases. It is difficult to say, really, but he has seen one or two people brought round in such a way. He gives credit to the voices of their families, comforting them and giving courage.”

Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled. “In that case, we ought to keep Mama at bay. Do you not agree, Jane?”

Jane shook her head with a gentle laugh. “Mama is quite occupied enough, as you know, Lizzy. She has plenty of diversions with which to busy herself at present.” She flashed her sister a sly smile.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “I take it she has been abroad again this morning, boasting of my ‘conquest’?”

“You did not know? No, she remained within. Apparently, the distinction of having a daughter well engaged meant, once the news had been shared, that many of our neighbours were obliged to call to wish you joy.”

Elizabeth glowered, her stomach churning. “And of course, Mama was not to be denied that satisfaction. What a pity to have missed it! Tell me, has she selected my wedding date yet?”

“Take care, Lizzy, that statement savours strongly of bitterness!”

“Bitter? Why not at all, Jane. I adore how supportive Mama is, and how helpful. You know she brought me a sample of wedding lace to try on this morning. She is of the opinion that ivory matches my skin tone and wished to verify it. Tragically, I lost my footing as I moved about this cramped room—dangerous with all of these books in here, you know! Such a shame, I sloshed some of Papa’s broth all over it. Poor, dear Mama. It must be trying to have such a clumsy daughter, but she bears it the best she can.”

Jane gagged on her tea, desperately covering her mouth to forestall a most unbecoming reaction to her sister’s gallows humour. Gasping and making good use of a napkin, she cleared her throat delicately. When she dared to speak again, she was more serious.

“Lizzy, we have had a letter from our Aunt Gardiner. She says our uncle is in Portsmouth, on some matter of shipping to his warehouses in London.”

Elizabeth tensed. “He cannot come at all, then?” Her heart began to sink.

“She does not know. She wrote to him directly, and she believes he shall come as soon as he is able—in a few days, perhaps. She says it is possible but not likely that he might already be on his way home. Meanwhile, she intends to come herself to lend us whatever support she can. It is difficult, you know, with the children, and she has just hired a new governess. She hopes she can be here by tomorrow evening.”

Elizabeth swallowed. She had not counted on her uncle being detained by business. It made sense, of course, that he would be settling any necessary matters before their Christmas travels. The tenuous hope that he could arrive soon, possibly by that very evening, had virtually sustained her. She had a fleeting notion that when he arrived, perhaps as acting head of the family, he could put to rest once and for all the rumours about herself and Mr Darcy. The longer his delay, the dimmer the hope that it could be done quietly.

A long, racking sigh shook her. She was fooling herself. There could be nothing “quiet” about ending her supposed engagement. She expected half of Meryton had graced the Bennet sitting room only that morning. She was well and truly stuck.

“Do not forget that Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy are expected to call this afternoon,” Jane reminded her. As if she could forget. “Do you not wish to change?” Jane dubiously eyed her sister’s simple, old work gown.

“No,” Elizabeth replied smugly, hugging her knees to her chest and sinking more deeply into her chair. She had no intention of scrambling to make herself agreeable for his sake. Jane blew air through her lips but wisely dropped the subject. She would do all she could, but Darcy would have to earn his own way into her sister’s good graces. With an affectionate glance at her stubborn sister, Jane hoped fervently that the gentleman was both willing and able to do so, for Lizzy’s sake.

Only a moment later, a flurry from the next room alerted them to some sudden excitement on the part of their mother. Elizabeth groaned. It could mean only one thing. The two girls peeped out the window, Mrs Cooper helpfully making way for Jane.

Drawing up to the front of the house was a glistening black carriage they had not seen before. Elizabeth squinted. The crest on the side was unfamiliar to her, but it had to belong to Mr Darcy. The matched foursome of chestnuts pulling it were splendid, much finer than she had seen outside the boundaries of London. As the coach drew to a halt, their mother burst into the room behind them.

“Oh, my dearest Lizzy! Only look, that is the Darcy carriage! Mrs Long said she saw it drive through Meryton this morning, but she could not see who was inside. He must have had it sent from Town! Is it not magnificent? This is a great honour to you, my dear, though I daresay you’ve done little enough to deserve it. Oh, look at you, girl! Hurry up and change. The gentlemen are calling! Mrs Cooper, tell Lizzy to leave at once!” With a nervous flick of her lace handkerchief, she turned about and pranced down the stairs to greet her guests.

Elizabeth was chagrined at her mother’s apparent lack of concern for her husband. She had not even glanced in his direction whilst in the room. With a grim sigh, she met Jane’s eyes. “Do be patient with her, Lizzy. You know she truly is worried for Papa. She is only… distracted.”

“Jane, only you can truly speak the best of people and still contrive to be honest. I shall never know how you manage it.” Elizabeth reached to squeeze her sister’s hand.

A flash of movement diverted their eyes once again to the window. They were just in time to see a moderately handsome gentleman in a red coat disembark to stand by Mr Bingley. “Who could he be, I wonder?” Jane’s breath fogged the glass.

Elizabeth gestured flippantly. “Whoever he is, he would be wise to avoid Kitty and Lydia,” she quipped. Flopping back into her cushiony chair, she stubbornly returned to her book.

“Lizzy, look,” Jane waved her hand, beckoning her back. Elizabeth complied unhappily. Mr Darcy was out of the coach now, his arm reaching inside to help out a willowy blonde beauty. “Do you think she could be the sister we have heard of?” Jane studied the girl down below. She took small, uncertain steps and leaned timidly on Mr Darcy’s arm.

Elizabeth pursed her lips. The famous Miss Darcy: constantly idolized by Caroline Bingley, assiduously praised by her brother, and repeatedly maligned by George Wickham. If her judgment of the character of the witnesses should be accounted, Elizabeth felt she would lean toward Wickham’s appraisal of the young girl. “Splendid,” she replied in a deadpan.

Jane turned to look her fully in the face. “Lizzy, please do try to remain calm and polite. I know very well that you are angry, but please… for my sake if nothing else.” Jane took her hands hopefully.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes critically. “Why, Jane Bennet, I do believe you are trying to hoodwink me! If you think you can convince me that my affairs with Mr Darcy can possibly distract Mr Bingley from your beauty, you are quite mistaken. He is entirely smitten with you, you know. I never saw the like. You need not fear for yourself,” she winked.

Jane responded with a slow, calculating smile. “Well, then Lizzy, think what a pleasure it would be for us to be married to such close friends!” Pleased with herself for her clever retort, she beamed back at her sister’s flustered face. “Come, Lizzy, we will be wanted downstairs. I suppose… well, that gown will have to do. There is no time to change now.”

Elizabeth tossed her head with a mutinous spirit and held it yet higher. Together they politely took their leave of Mrs Cooper and began the long march downstairs.

E lizabeth’s first impression of Georgiana Darcy was lukewarm, at best. The girl stood half-hidden by her brother’s shoulder. She was tall and fair, with a light but womanly figure. She was well grown for her years but clearly not as comfortable in company as Kitty, who was near to her in age. Elizabeth decided that was not wholly a bad thing and resolved to withhold judgment until she knew the girl better.

Georgiana smiled politely but only offered the barest of civilities when they were introduced. She cast her eyes to the floor, her cheeks red. Elizabeth had little time to ponder whether the girl’s reticence could be attributed to extreme vanity or painful shyness. She was busy herself, trying to duck Darcy’s steady gaze and thwart her mother’s overly officious attentions to their guests.

The gentleman in the red coat proved to be another cousin, a colonel in the Regulars. Kitty and Lydia tittered shamelessly over how handsome he was in his regimentals. He was wonderfully gentlemanly with them, even going so far as to tease the younger girls a little as he took his seat, but he seemed intensely interested in herself. Elizabeth could only wonder what the man had heard.

Thanks to her mother’s machinations, Elizabeth found herself situated between Darcy and the colonel, who occupied her father’s favourite wing-back chair. Miss Darcy sat silently on the sofa, on the other side of her brother. The only relief to be found was in Bingley cleverly taking a seat on the other side of the room between Mrs Bennet and Jane. Mary sat not far from Jane, frowning over her book.

With her mother so occupied, the only present sources of mortification were Kitty and Lydia, who were noisily remaking their bonnets just to the colonel’s right. Lydia did not miss an opportunity to smile or even wink boldly at him whenever he looked her direction. As it was, Elizabeth felt her humiliation was complete.

Elizabeth was seated on the same sofa as Darcy and his sister. Each uncomfortably kept their distance, a nervous tension filling the space between them. Fitzwilliam arched a brow as he took in the awkwardness of the pair. They never looked each other in the eye; the faces of both were flushed. Darcy stiltedly but politely asked after Mr Bennet.

“He has not yet awakened, sir, but we have a good deal of hope. It was very kind of you to send for a skilled nurse.” Elizabeth trained her eyes steadily on the tea tray, her voice everything that was mannerly and insincere. “Mrs Cooper has been most welcome, but I must insist that we be allowed to repay you for your trouble.”

“There is no need, Miss Elizabeth. I am pleased to be of some service to your father. I beg you would think no more of it.”

“I am afraid I must, sir, for my father would not wish to be in your debt.” Her eyes flashed warningly to his, only for a second. “It is not seemly to neglect one’s obligations, would you not agree, Colonel?”

Darcy bit back a retort. Was she implying that he had attempted to ingratiate himself to her father and family with his purse? Or was there a more subtle barb? She still believed him dishonourable and remiss in the management of his affairs. He gritted his teeth.

Fitzwilliam was lighter on his feet. “Indeed not, Miss Bennet. As a man sworn to duty myself, I regard attendance to my personal obligations as my highest order of business. It is the mark of a man, or woman, for that matter.”

“I could not agree more, Colonel.” She cast a sweetly arch expression toward Darcy, who paled a little. “May I ask, Colonel, do you regard your duty to king and country—the pride of your rank—more or less highly than your obligations to family and friends, the companions of your youth?”

“Well, I am uncertain what you can mean. In my mind, they are one and the same. Serving my country keeps my family in safety. By fulfilling my official commitments with distinction, I bring honour to my family name in my small way. As for my friends, why most of them serve alongside me. I believe, Miss Bennet, that some of the finest, most noble men I have ever had the honour of knowing wore regimentals.” Kitty and Lydia twittered their agreement from his far side, breaking into giddy laughter.

Darcy made a strangled sound. They had been seated under five minutes, and already Fitzwilliam was digging a deeper hole by the second, falling right into Elizabeth’s trap. His cousin reluctantly tore his eyes from the lady’s face to observe Darcy’s frantic expression, the minuscule shake of his head. Fitzwilliam’s eyes widened in sudden understanding.

Elizabeth followed Fitzwilliam’s gaze, turning to Darcy questioningly. Darcy snapped his eyes back to hers with deliberate nonchalance. His body tensed with the effort of locking his wavering gaze to her flinty expression.

A rebellious dark tendril fell low over her forehead, and, momentarily distracted, he absolutely stared. He held her eyes for a long beat, his mouth opening despite his lack of words. How was it that the more time he spent in her company, the more like a knobby-kneed colt he became? Should he not be gaining confidence as his reward for continued effort? Fitzwilliam cleared his throat, forcing him to start from his reverie.

“I… Er... That is... You are looking very well today, Miss Elizabeth.”

Her lips parted. Once again, he had taken her by surprise. Her eyes took in her own appearance; the gown which should long ago have been retired, the worn shoes, the splash of broth on her sleeve from her “mishap” that morning.

Cynically she raised her eyes back to meet and share a mischievous smile over Darcy’s shoulder. The girl’s eyes twinkled in camaraderie as she grinned between Elizabeth and her brother. Perhaps Georgiana Darcy had potential, after all.

“I thank you, sir,” she managed, most civilly if she did say so herself. “I fear you have caught me while I was not prepared to receive company.”

Darcy took a deep breath, steadying himself. Out of the corner of his eye, Richard gave an encouraging nod. Was the old sod smirking at his blunder? Bravely he forged on. “Surely, Miss Elizabeth, caring for your father has consumed much of your time. I remember how devotedly you cared for Miss Bennet when she was ill.”

Elizabeth smiled a little. She had been primarily motivated by concern for Jane, but her desire to avoid the rest of the party downstairs had added incentive to her devotion. Slyly she replied, “No one could have done less for her. Jane is all that is sweet and fine.”

She favoured him with an impish smile and continued. “I believe there is none other with her goodness. I fear I have not her talent for always seeing the amiable qualities in people and honestly speaking well of everyone. It has been my experience that not everyone has such a fine character as she often detects, or at least it is not always apparent to me.” A slight stirring to her right brought her eyes back to the Colonel, who was rubbing his upper lip with his forefinger and quickly looking away.

Darcy took advantage of the diversion to recover. He leaned forward slightly. “You are a student of characters, I know. You praise your sister’s generous nature, but I have long believed that a more analytical philosophy can be greatly advantageous. It serves to discern what is wise from what is foolish, and truth from untruth. Would you not agree?”

Elizabeth arched her eyebrows. “I cannot dispute that conjecture. I wonder, however, is it possible for truth to be always readily distinguished? I suspect it is not always a fixed notion. Is it possible for a man to think he has done right when, in fact, he is greatly in the wrong?”

He gaped for a moment. Tension wrung his gut, but he was as a moth to the flame. The challenging lilt in her voice could not be ignored. For a brief second, she looked to Colonel Fitzwilliam for a response, but he only gazed expectantly at Darcy. A fine time to decide to be silent, he thought sourly.

Slowly he answered her. “I agree that is a possibility, Miss Elizabeth. I believe that is where honour begins. An upright man, with worthy intentions, should at least be due the benefit of the doubt in such cases. He should be able to depend upon his peers for a favourable opinion of his intentions, at the very minimum. A man of true virtue makes it his business to have considered all of the information available before embarking upon a course potentially injurious to others.”

“And if he finds he was mistaken? Would it be more admirable decisively to stay his course or humbly to make amends?”

“The latter, of course, is preferable. We ought to right our wrongs as best we can. However, there have been times in my experience, for example with my tenants, where a reversal of judgement would have caused even greater harm. So, you see, it is not always possible to undo an error. That is why it is prudent, and indeed absolutely necessary, to be sure of wise judgement in the first place.”

Her eyes sparkled, and a mysterious smile curled her lips. He was not certain by her expression whether he had passed or failed her little test. The one thing of which he was not in doubt was the certainty that she had indeed been testing him. She studied him briefly as if trying to decide whether to press the matter further.

Apparently, she decided to drop it for the present, as her eyes shifted to Georgiana. “Miss Darcy, I have heard much of your skill on the pianoforte. Miss Bingley praises your abilities most frequently. May I ask your favourite composer?”

Darcy let out a breath of relief as her scrutiny transferred away from him. Fitzwilliam caught his eye with a look of incredulity. He was clearly impressed. The gentlemen listened in rapt appreciation as the ladies left them behind with a discussion on the merits of the various German composers. The topic could not have been more considerately chosen for Georgiana’s comfort, and Darcy silently added another virtue to the growing list of Elizabeth Bennet’s charms. She seemed to captivate Georgiana instantly.

Darcy listened proudly as Georgiana’s shy expertise revealed itself to her inquisitor. Elizabeth was obviously well informed, but she freely admitted to possessing only marginal skills on the pianoforte. Darcy, who had heard her play with much pleasure, countered warmly. Elizabeth thanked him primly, then turned her attention back to Georgiana.

Elizabeth’s tone was easy and gentle, not at all like Miss Bingley’s imperious style of discourse—or monologue, as so often occurred. They talked of their favourite performances in London, and Richard found a few entertaining anecdotes to add to their conversation there. Elizabeth bantered with him pleasantly, but always she returned to Georgiana.

For her part, Georgiana was slowly letting down her guard, like a morning glory discreetly unfurling its petals to the soft dew. Darcy breathed more easily as well, revelling at the sight of the two dearest to him getting to know one another. Elizabeth did not disappoint. Abrasive as she could be when properly riled, she was all warmth and sincerity for his little sister.

“I should dearly love to hear you play one day, Miss Darcy,” Elizabeth encouraged humbly. “Do you often play to an audience?”

Georgiana blushed. It was a frequent request made of her in family gatherings, but one she disliked in the extreme. “Oh, no, Miss Elizabeth. I do practice a great deal, but I normally prefer to play only for Fitzwilliam.”

Elizabeth looked puzzledly between the gentlemen. She had never heard anyone call Darcy by his first name and suddenly found it amusing that he should share his cousin’s surname.

Picking up on her reflections, Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed lightly. “My father was not only brother to Darcy’s mother, Anne, but also very good friends with his father, George Darcy. Our families are friends for five generations, at least, with many intermarriages. There are a number of us who share a name. My older brother was named George also, in honour of my uncle.”

“I see.” As much as she normally tried to ignore everything Mr Collins said, something came back to her. “Then your father… is the Earl of Matlock?” She kept her voice a little hushed, fearing her mother might overhear that they had the privilege of hosting the son of a peer.

“Correct, Miss Elizabeth, but as the ‘spare’, such a title does me little good.” He gestured self-deprecatingly to his uniform. “I have little to complain of, though. I do not believe I should have liked my brother’s lot in life, or Darcy’s, for that matter. Dealing with their responsibilities is no easy matter. Certainly, it is not as clear-cut as life in the army. Despite its hardships, I do not have the cares and worries of a landlord with three hundred or more souls in his keeping to trouble me.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened at the figure. She glanced quickly to Darcy, who modestly dropped his gaze to the floor. She had not considered the awesome responsibilities which must be his, but he clearly did not wish to discuss it at the moment.

Turning back to the colonel, she probed gently, “I think you undervalue your position. As a colonel, you must have a good many men under your command. Is not your duty one of sacrifice and hardship? You have the responsibility of sending men off to war. Is not war terrible? I have heard stories.” Elizabeth shuddered. She had heard more than stories, as had anyone with a heart. The horror of the battlefield was fresh in the country’s mind, with a scattering of bitter wars overseas only recently concluded in their parents’ generation and more looming in their own.

His eyes softened, his easy humour receding somewhat. “It is, Miss Elizabeth. The men of my regiment, we live and work together, and tragically I have more than once been forced to issue the final command in a man’s life. Ultimately, however, my command is not my own. I answer to my general, who answers to the war office. I am never left entirely to my own devices; thus, the success or failure of my regiment does not rest absolutely on my own shoulders.

“I do my best, as my men deserve nothing less, but others have a role they must play as well. I do not say my lot is an entirely easy one, only that the cares of others make me understand that I am by no means the only man with the burden of heavy responsibilities. I daresay, Miss Elizabeth, every man has his struggles, and each has his gifts. Sometimes it is best to content ourselves with the lot handed us, is that not so?”

Elizabeth felt suddenly they were not talking of military life any longer. Surmising she was the victim of a two-pronged assault, she gave a small nod, acknowledging the hit. Her eyes shifted suspiciously to Darcy, but there was no trace of smugness in his face.

“Do you not all find the weather today unusually fine?” Bingley was saying from across the room. He raised his voice just loudly enough to divert attention to himself from the party on the sofa. “Miss Bennet, might I persuade you to a short walk before tea?” He rose and invited Jane to take his arm. A subtle look toward the others encouraged them to break up their cosy group. Lydia, rolling her eyes at the dull couples in the room, announced her intention to walk to Lucas Lodge, seconded by Kitty.

Darcy’s breath caught. He knew very well that Bingley and Fitzwilliam were conspiring to purchase him a few minutes with Elizabeth in private conversation. His body tingled in anticipation, but his heart froze in fear. She had been civil to him, but barely. He could well imagine the litany she might unleash on him when he was without the protection of others, before whom she had decided to remain polite.

He rose on nerveless legs, but when he turned to her, he found that Richard had beaten him. His cousin proffered his arm gallantly, and with a teasing smile, Elizabeth took it. Her eyes flicked provocatively to his, taking in his disappointment and winking at it.

Chagrined, he turned to Georgiana and helped her to her feet. She read his vexation and snuggled comfortingly to him. “I do like her very much, William,” she confided as he helped her on with her pelisse. “She is kind and honest. I do not feel embarrassed talking to her. I think we might become good friends,” she whispered shyly.

With a relieved smile, he squeezed her small hand and rested it on his elbow. He was glad to hear of Georgiana’s comfort with Elizabeth, but he burned with annoyance that Richard was at this very moment sweeping ahead of him with that lovely lady on his arm.

They followed Bingley and Jane Bennet on the same path Darcy had taken from the house the day before. The stinging memory of his turmoil of yesterday made the colour in his face rise. Elizabeth walked blithely before him, her lilting voice drifting back on the breeze. Something she said made Richard laugh gaily, and he placed his off hand on the small feminine one nestled in the crook of his elbow. Darcy fairly seethed. She had never walked with him so! What was Richard up to, strolling so cosily with his Elizabeth?

The path came to a minor divergence, with a lower path proceeding through a muddier place and the higher rounding a small bend. Bingley took the higher path, darting a quick but significant glance at the walkers behind. Elizabeth and Darcy both noticed, if the others did not. Elizabeth tactfully suggested that as the path was not yet impassable, her party might appreciate the small bubbling creek that lay just ahead on the lower road.

As they approached a low bending oak tree just before the creek, Elizabeth released the colonel’s arm and turned to Georgiana with an infectious grin. “Miss Darcy, may I show you something?” Hesitantly, but with a pleased little smile to her brother, she placed her hand in Elizabeth’s. The two young ladies traipsed out of view over a small grassy patch to a grove of trees beyond, heedless of the mud and grass tugging at their skirts. As they vanished from sight, the gentlemen could hear the musical sound of their distant laughter.

Fitzwilliam turned to his cousin with an arched brow. Darcy regarded him darkly. “Unhappy, Cousin?” Fitzwilliam smirked.

“Why would I be?” he growled. “You and Elizabeth seem to be getting on famously.”

“Yes, Elizabeth , if we are calling her such, is quite charming. She promised to sing for me someday, you know. You said she had an enchanting voice. I should like to find out for myself.” Richard affected an air of nonchalance, but he secretly loved goading his brooding relative. Never since eleven-year-old Richard had picked the best puppy—the one seven-year-old William had wanted—from George Darcy’s favourite pointer had it been so easily done.

His cousin took the bait admirably. He stalked closer, glowering. “ Be careful, Richard !” he hissed.

Richard laughed lightly. “Oh, come on, William, do not be that way! You know I only wished to put in a few good words for you. She had you completely at her mercy in there. I have to admit, it must not be entirely unpleasant.” He gave a low whistle. “You did not exaggerate, Cousin. She is impressive. Lovely and clever, and she talks about more than bonnets and dancing.”

Darcy sighed heavily, leaning against the oak tree. “Georgiana likes her,” he murmured.

Richard nodded. “She would be good for her. There is something genuine and sincere about her. I believe she would be kind to Georgie for her own sake, not yours.”

Darcy made a wry face. “Not very optimistic about my prospects, are you?”

“You know what I mean, William. More than one lady has tried to worm her way into your affections by ostentatious attentions to Georgie. Surely you have noticed. I can promise you, Georgie has too, and she does not care for it. Miss Elizabeth is quite the opposite. Truly, she is a remarkable young woman.”

“Is she not?” Darcy gazed longingly in the direction the ladies had taken.

Richard was still incredulous at the easy way this country miss had thoroughly bewitched his staid and cautious cousin. Now that he had met the lady, he could see exactly why the secretive and close Darcy had found her zest appealing, but he had never expected the man to be so wholly given over to his feelings.

“Father will give you a bad time, I fear. At least he will rant and storm until he gets to know her, but I wager she will have him eating out of her hand before dessert is served. Mother will love her immediately, but there is still Aunt Catherine.”

Darcy was still, his voice quiet. “She was going to be made unhappy in whatever choice I made. You know as well as I, there was no future in that.”

“True, but be prepared for unpleasantness all the same. She will not attempt to spare your lady’s feelings. I only hope that whatever form her disapproval takes, you will be able to shield Miss Elizabeth at least until the lady becomes resigned to the match. You do not need Aunt Catherine discouraging your Miss Elizabeth just now.”

Darcy snorted to himself. “She would stand in no awe of Aunt Catherine. In fact, if she did not dislike me so strongly, I would wager that the surest way to obtain her acceptance would be to have our aunt forbid the marriage!”

“You have a point,” Richard chuckled. “Aunt Catherine will not be the only one who disapproves, you realize. Enchanting as Miss Elizabeth is, she is nothing like the women of the ton . I mean that in the best possible way, but do you think she will fit in with your circles in Society?”

“Better than I do,” Darcy grunted. “She is not easily intimidated.”

“Yes… so I see.” Fitzwilliam eyed his cousin thoughtfully. “She is not very happy with you. That much is obvious, but neither is she frightened of you. If you can somehow earn her regard, she could be just the ally you need against those gussied-up cats.” He finished with a playful wink.

Darcy turned to look his cousin full in the face, his eyes deeply serious. “Richard... I must win her affections.” His voice wavered somewhat. “I have only ever met women who want Pemberley and my wealth more than they want me. I do not mean to sound vain, but you cannot know what it is like, to know that everyone who approaches me sees only my pocketbook and my position. Elizabeth is blind to all of that. If nothing else, her refusal proves that. There is no one like her. Do you think she can ever be brought round?”

Richard blew out a long breath. “If things truly stand as you say they do, she has little enough choice. She will have to marry you eventually. Give it time, Cousin. You are as fine a man as any I know. She will learn to like you well enough, I daresay.”

Darcy rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I fear that is no longer enough for me.”