They arrived at the parsonage. Mrs. Collins and her friend stood in the garden, near Mr. Collins’s roses. Mr. Collins burst from the house, overflowing with eloquence which he poured liberally upon Anne.
Anne glanced at Georgiana, rolled her eyes and nodded toward Elizabeth. Georgiana hopped down and approached her.
“Good morning, Miss Bennet.”
“Good morning, Miss Darcy.”
They all curtsied.
“This is a very fine morning, is it not?” Mrs. Collins smiled. She was such a sensible woman, an excellent balance for her silly husband. Just like Elizabeth’s levity and open nature would be an excellent balance for her brother—if they were successful.
“Are you and Miss de Bourgh enjoying your drive?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes, we are, thank you.” Georgiana glanced quickly at Anne. “My cousin is having a rare day of good health and wishes to enjoy it to the full. She wished me to ask you if you would like to join us for a turn about the park.”
“Oh do go on, Lizzy. I must go into the village with Mr. Collins to pay calls soon and Maria has gone to call upon the apothecary’s daughters. So you will not be abandoning us.”
“Are you sure, Charlotte?”
“It will do my heart good to know you are in excellent company. I am certain Mr. Collins would not have you turn down such a delightful invitation for any reason.” She winked.
“Then I thank you very much for the invitation.” Elizabeth smiled.
Oh, she was very lovely when she smiled. No wonder Fitzwilliam was so tongue-tied around her. It was a wonder he could form a coherent thought at all when she was present. That certainly explained how he might have offended her so deeply.
Moments later, they had climbed back into the phaeton, packed very close together, and set off to a chorus of gratitude and well wishes from Mr. Collins.
“You bear decidedly little resemblance to your cousin, Miss Bennet.” Anne’s eyebrow quirked exactly the same way Fitzwilliam’s did when he was amused.
Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed as she studied Anne. “I believe you mean that as a compliment, so thank you.”
Georgiana giggled and Anne laughed, a high pitched, bird-like trill few had ever heard. “You see, I told you she would be excellent company.”
“You flatter me, Miss de Bourgh.”
“I flatter no one, Miss Bennet. I have far too much of my mother in me for that. I only speak the truth.”
Elizabeth’s brows rose. “Then, thank you.”
“I suppose it is a family trait, from the Fitzwilliam side. We are frank and truthful, perhaps to a fault.”
“So you say your family only speaks the truth?”
Georgiana grimaced. Oh dear, this line of conversation would not flatter Fitzwilliam at all. “As a rule, yes, that is true, but we can, occasionally, allow a cross word to escape that is quite the opposite of what we do mean.” Oh, please, do not let Anne argue!
“Oh, how that is true!” Anne rolled her eyes. “I think perhaps your eldest brother to be the worst among us at that.”
“It is only because he feels so deeply but expresses so little.”
“Indeed, but when he feels deeply, he also offends deeply. Remember when—”
Georgiana clapped her hands to her mouth. “Oh yes. Your mother was utterly mortified.”
“I have never seen her so offended!”
“What happened?” Elizabeth asked.
“It is not flattering to my brother, so I shall not be a tale bearer. However, the important point is that he spoke those hurtful words in the midst of his grief over…over Sebastian’s—our youngest brother’s death.” Georgiana’s throat tightened. She cleared it and sniffled.
“I am sorry.”
“It was many years ago; I am afraid I never knew him, but I believe Fitzwilliam has grieved more than anyone. The anniversary of the event affects him heavily. But since he is not very well spoken, his grief comes out rather badly.”
“You are being easy on him, Georgiana. He tends to offend whenever he is worried about you or Theo, which is quite often. Why, the last several months—”
“Please, Anne!” Georgiana gasped. Her face grew cold. Had Anne no notion of what she should or should not say? Probably not, given her mother. But still.
Anne snorted. “There is no need to be so sensitive about the imperfections—”
“I think I understand enough. There is no need to detail it all.” Elizabeth said softly.
What a dear lady. She would understand Fitzwilliam once she knew him a little more. “The important point is that he does not mean to offend. I am not even sure he understands when he does it. And when it is pointed out to him, he will not rest until he makes a situation right. Especially for someone he cares about.”
“Indeed?” Elizabeth’s brow quirked.
“Yes. I will grant you that. He is one to deeply feel his error. I am sure there are few men of his character in all of England.” Anne clucked her tongue and the pony quickened his pace.
Elizabeth blinked, her bottom lip between her teeth, and her brow furrowed.
*****
Theo groaned and shifted his leg on its pillows. His confinement in these stuffy, dusty rooms was definitely the worst of his trials right now. The pains in ankle, shoulder and head were nothing to this bloody imprisonment. At least no one was pouring laudanum and God-knew-what- else down his throat any longer.
The door creaked open admitting Prince Will—Fitzwilliam himself, bearing a tray of something that smelled utterly delicious. Theo licked his lips and swallowed. He pushed himself up straighter on the chaise lounge. How had his brother managed to bring in real food instead of that unnamed mush that kept being sent under the guise of nourishment? Did he go into the kitchen himself?
“I see you approve then?” Fitzwilliam set the tray down and dragged a small table closer to Theo.
“How could I not? A man can only eat so much pap before his mind starts to resemble the vile stuff.”
Fitzwilliam chuckled. “I cannot disagree. But do not express your appreciation too loudly as our aunt is quite convinced a meal like this might be detrimental to your recovery.”
Theo grabbed a plate and heaped it with cold ham, kippers, potatoes and cheese.
“You do not need to eat it all at once, you know.”
Theo glanced up. There was no criticism in his tone, this time at least. How odd and unexpected, and appealing. “Perhaps not, but with a very real chance she might burst in at any moment and snatch it all away, I am disinclined to take the risk.”
Fitzwilliam leaned back in his seat and watched Theo eat, an odd contemplative look in his eyes. “Anne was very well today. She even took our sister out for a drive.”
“Indeed? That is good news.”
“Perhaps you were correct about her medicine.”
Then Georgiana had been successful. Good on her. “I am cautiously optimistic for her then. One good day does not a recovery make, but it is a start.”
“True. Mr. Cox will be here soon. I shall be interested to hear his evaluation.” Fitzwilliam nodded, his eyes drifted somewhere beyond Theo and the familiar awkward silence unfurled between them once again.
Theo finished his plate and began refilling it.
“Richard took Theseus out today.”
Theo rubbed a napkin across his mouth. “And he did not break his bloody neck? The army has improved his horsemanship.”
“He would buy that horse from you, if you would part with it.”
Theo laughed and nearly choked on the mouthful he had failed to swallow. “You set him straight on that account I imagine?”
“He did indeed.” Richard sauntered in and closed the door behind him. “So you brought the prisoner a proper meal? Quite merciful of you, Darcy.”
Fitzwilliam shrugged and dragged a chair in closer. Richard dropped into it and plucked a roll from the generously laden tray.
“There now, that is mine!” Theo stretched across t
he table, not quite reaching Richard.
Richard slapped his hand away. “There is plenty to share with a poor underfed soldier.”
“Underfed my arse. You can barely get those breeches on. Another generous meal and you will be splitting those seams—”
Fitzwilliam passed Richard a plate. “I will bring more if it is needed.”
They both turned to stare at Fitzwilliam.
“Why do you stare at me like that?” He pulled back a bit, the familiar glare returning.
“Oh, do stop that.” Richard crossed his ankles and leaned back. “It is just odd that you would not send a servant but rather do it yourself.”
Fitzwilliam snorted. “A servant might be detained by our aunt for questioning and forced to bring back an approved meal, I on the other hand will not. I am sorry my efforts do not meet with your approval.”
“Now why would you assume such a thing?” Richard winked.
“That is not what you intended to convey?”
“Not at all—I rather like this side of you.”
Fitzwilliam twitched his head and shifted in his seat. He never was one who liked to be closely examined.
“You do leave yourself rather open to misinterpretation, Richard. I heard it as Fish did.” Theo refilled his plate. Those roast apples looked quite appealing.
Fitzwilliam glowered.
“Is that so?” Richard crossed his arms over his chest.
“Yes indeed. You know, at the Inn of Courts—”
Richard laughed and looked at Fitzwilliam. “Here it comes, we are about to be treated to another ‘How I made barrister’ story.”
Odd. Fitzwilliam said nothing. He did not even twitch his eyebrows. He leaned in a little closer as if to listen. Very strange indeed.
“It is good to know you find me so amusing. But I insist you hear me out. My tale has direct bearing.”
Richard extended his hand. “By all means, continue.”
“I will. This is a tale of two judges, with both of whom I regularly dine. Both are well respected among their peers and excellent in their profession. However, they are esteemed very differently.”
“One is secretly a scoundrel, no doubt?” Richard chuckled.
“Hardly. Both are quite similar in character, quite upstanding men.”
“But one gregarious and the other taciturn.” Richard’s gaze flickered to Fitzwilliam who frowned and turned aside.
“No, no, not even that. Neither is so open a temperament to be called gregarious. They are both essentially quiet, formal men.”
“Then what is the vital difference, oh wise one?” Richard bowed low from his waist, forehead almost touching his knees.
“The difference lay in what they approve—or rather in their ability to express it clearly. I know from conversations with them both that they are equally quick to approve something—or someone—”
“Or not?”
Theo flashed a strained smile. “Or not. As I said, they are both discerning men.”
“No, you had not said that.” Richard smirked.
“It was implied.”
Fitzwilliam sniffed—was he hiding a chuckle?
“In any case, being equal in discernment, one is apt to express it well and clearly whilst the other is rarely heard uttering a word of approval to anyone. The former is well-liked and sought after, the latter is merely well-respected. Poor chap assumes people know when he approves and has no idea why people flock to the other judge instead of him.”
“Indeed?” Darcy leaned forward just a bit.
“Absolutely.”
Richard leaned back and stroked his chin. “I have seen the same thing in the army. Those who liberally show approval and generously praise what is praise-worthy, their men will almost always out-perform those commanded by dour and critical officers.”
“You see, it is true.” Theo crossed his arms over his chest.
“I confess, I discovered myself not nearly so adept in the practice as I thought myself to be.”
Fitzwilliam turned to Richard, wide eyed.
“It is not as though either of our fathers offered much example to follow in that arena.” Theo sneered, though he probably should not have. Fitzwilliam still refused to acknowledge the hurt Father’s dour ways inflicted upon them all.
“No, they did not.” Richard scratched his head. “But as a young Lieutenant, I had a Captain who provided an excellent model to follow. He could inspire the men to do things I could not. So I began to study his tactics, how he spoke to them and what he would say.”
“Was it not difficult to use another man’s words? Did you not feel yourself insincere, saying things you did not mean?” Fitzwilliam asked.
“It was awkward in the beginning, but so was learning to ride or shoot or fence at first. I saw it little different from any skill requiring practice.” Richard’s eyebrows flashed up. “But I would not perjure myself with insincere, empty flattery. I learned first to look for what was worthy and then to speak it openly.”
Fitzwilliam rubbed his fist across his lips. “Was it—”
“Difficult? Yes. Uncomfortable? Yes. Effective? Astonishingly so. In truth, I still find it difficult to believe the power a little honest approval has in changing a man’s opinion of me.”
“I have seen the same myself and so have you. You just do not recognize it. Your friend Bingley is quick to express his approval—look how many friends he has.”
Fitzwilliam huffed. “I hardly think that—”
“Do not be so quick to judge. I know you think him a bit cakey at times—and you may be right. However, consider how close are his ties to trade—his father was in business, was he not?”
Fitzwilliam grunted.
“And already see how well respected he has become in society. True, some will not see past his connections, but how many already welcome him since you began introducing him?”
“He has many supporters.” Fitzwilliam nodded and pushed up from his seat. “Your tray is empty. Do you care for more?”
“If you are willing, yes, enough for three, perhaps?” Theo glanced at Richard who nodded curtly.
Fitzwilliam picked up the try and inclined his head. “As you wish.”
They watched him leave.
“Interesting.” Richard said.
“Quite.” Theo smiled.
CHAPTER 8
The unpredictable spring weather brought two days of persistent rain to southeast England and thus none of the inhabitants of Hunsford Parsonage to Rosings Park.
Darcy awoke on the third day from yet another night of poor rest, his dreams haunted by his brothers, his recent fears over Theo’s condition interwoven with painful memories of Sebastian. Lying awake served him little better, for as he lay in the darkness of yet another long and lonely night, thoughts of a certain lady would persist in filling his mind.
Despite his cousin’s avowal Theo had no intentions towards Elizabeth, Darcy was unable to fully dismiss the notion. Yet even were it so, how could he compete against his cousin, who had made it as plain as the Fitzwilliam nose upon his face he was quite taken with the lady? And had not Elizabeth made it equally clear she preferred his brother or his cousin’s company to his own?
Darcy had reflected upon much that had happened with Elizabeth since coming into Kent. Had she accepted his attempt at an apology over his slur at the Meryton Assembly? Was her manner towards him any less antagonistic than it ever was?
Everyone seemed to think he would do well to practice his social skills; did Elizabeth think so too, and did not this echo the barely concealed illustration by his brother over the two judges and their appeal to others?
Such thoughts rolled interminably round Darcy’s head as he made his way downstairs to join his family. His silence went unremarked at the table; the lively banter between Theo and Richard, now they had an extended audience in Anne as well as Georgiana, knew no bounds, only tempered by their aunt when she felt things were becoming a little too loud.
A t
hankful intrusion came with the arrival of Darcy’s physician from Town, and he quickly removed to the library with his brother and cousin to speak in confidence with him.
Barely an hour passed before a footman closed the door upon the doctor’s retreating back, and Darcy turned away deep in thought.
Mr. Cox’s report on Theo’s recovery had been reassuring, yet still Darcy could not fully rescind the tremor of uncertainty that lingered. Perhaps it would always remain with him. He had also taken the opportunity to speak to Mr. Cox regarding Anne’s medication, and the doctor had taken away a furtively acquired undiluted sample of the concoction. The affirmation of the gentlemen that Anne’s condition appeared to be improving in direct proportion to the watering down of the liquid was sufficient for Mr. Cox to advocate they continue to administer it in weakened doses. Yet the doctor’s severe countenance had unsettled Darcy—were there ramifications yet to manifest themselves? He could hardly credit the rapid improvement in Anne over recent days. What on earth did the potion contain, and what was its singular purpose?
“Darce! There you are!”
Looking up, he espied his cousin peering round the library door. “Come on, man. Theo is chomping at the bit—does he have a clean bill of health?”
“The rains have been in his favor. His enforced rest has contributed to a vast improvement, though he cannot yet ride.” Darcy walked across the hall and into the library, and the Colonel closed the door behind him with a snap. “Not a mount such as Theseus.”
A groan came from his brother where he reclined on a chaise longue, and Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed as he sat down and reclaimed his teacup.
“I do not doubt it!” He threw Theo an amused glance. “For all his rashness, I do not believe he doubts it either! It is clear his shoulder, though much improved, is not up to Theseus’ speed and vigor.”
“Yet he would do well to exercise his ankle,” Theo chimed in, swinging his legs down to the floor and sitting up. “He is on a downward spiral into naught if he does not soon escape the confines of these walls.”
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