Conscious of the ever-present footmen in the hallways, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Darcy made their way to the library in purposeful silence, each deliberating upon the other’s rather singular behaviour. On entering the room, Darcy hovered just inside the doorway, watching in confusion as his cousin peered behind two elegant sofas and a particularly large desk before heading for the newly refreshed tray of spirits.
“Fitzwilliam, what are you about?”
The Colonel turned to face his cousin, responding rather shortly: “I would have thought it apparent. I have no desire for this conversation to be overheard. Whilst I do not consider Collins to be an illusionist and thus in two places at once, I wish to be confident our privacy is assured.”
Observing his cousin still standing near the doors, his air and countenance bemused, the Colonel sighed impatiently. His ruminations over the past four and twenty hours had not anticipated such a source for Darcy’s lowness of spirit, and he felt momentarily forestalled over how to proceed.
“Whatever this is, surely it can be delayed until we are on the road.” Darcy paused and cast a glance over his shoulder towards the door. “We cannot fail to farewell the guests.”
“We can, and we most certainly shall. Darcy!” Noting that his cousin had half turned away as if seriously contemplating a return to the drawing room, the Colonel realised he had little option but to launch his attack, and allowing his anger full rein he snapped out, “I no longer wonder as to your supposition that Miss Bennet despises you. From what I have ascertained, she may well have just cause.”
Fitzwilliam’s words had the desired effect, for Darcy’s body stiffened noticeably, and slowly he turned back towards him. Yet he had not anticipated the powerful emotion that would be writ upon Darcy’s face, and indignant though he was over his cousin’s inexplicable behaviour, Fitzwilliam could not help but feel for him in such untenable circumstances.
Darcy met his cousin’s steely gaze with a combination of shock and hurt. Having so recently been engaged in a conversation with Elizabeth that, whilst difficult, had also been strangely comforting, the stark reminder of how the situation really stood was not only unwelcome but also intensely distressing, and he walked over and sank into one of the armchairs by the fireplace. Leaning his head back against the leather, he closed his eyes, willing the tightness that had suddenly gripped his chest to subside. Whilst Darcy had been in no doubt since yesterday of Elizabeth’s feelings for him, it was agonising to have her dislike of him confirmed by someone else.
The sound of ice and liquid against glass informed him of his cousin’s actions, and he was not surprised a few seconds later to open his eyes to the sight of a crystal tumbler filled with amber liquid being held in front of him. Accepting it, he took a fortifying drink as his cousin settled himself in the chair opposite.
Allowing the liquor to warm him, Darcy stared thoughtfully at Fitzwilliam. What had led him to say such a thing? It was evident that his temper had been roused, but over what remained yet unclear, and Darcy raised a brow as the Colonel suddenly pushed himself out of his chair and began walking up and down in front of the hearth, his glass dangling precariously from one hand.
“I have discovered what you have done.” The Colonel threw him a stern look, then continued his pacing.
For a split second, fear gripped Darcy as he struggled to comprehend what, of the many things he wished to conceal, Fitzwilliam might have learned.
“It is unconscionable! I would never have expected such from you. Admittedly, I can appreciate the inducement that would tempt you to act so – but that you did? I can hardly credit you with such behaviour!”
Following Fitzwilliam’s progress as he marched to and fro across one of Rosings’ finest hearthrugs, Darcy’s eyes narrowed. Was his cousin referring to Darcy’s decision to offer for Elizabeth? Being such a liberal thinker, Fitzwilliam’s attitude was, to say the least, unforeseen and more the sort of reaction he would have anticipated from their aunt.
With a frown, Darcy studied the glass he now cradled in both hands, then shook his head.
“I have not the pleasure of understanding you, Fitzwilliam. What is it that I am supposed to have done?”
“This so-called act of loyalty towards a friend – Bingley, I had assumed.”
Darcy enjoyed a moment of relief, but then he stared at his cousin in confusion. “But that is old news, Fitzwilliam – we spoke of it some time ago.”
“But not of the lady.”
As realisation dawned, Darcy blew out a breath. Of course.
“I am struggling, Cousin, to reconcile the man I know you to be with someone who would wilfully separate a couple who loved each other and thus expect to gain some peace of mind. How could you think taking such a step would secure the happiness of anyone concerned? And what of Miss Elizabeth Bennet? I understand that your feelings are engaged, but so it would seem are hers, and distasteful though that is to you, you cannot discount it.”
“Damn you, Fitzwilliam! Are you playing my conscience?” Darcy dropped his glass onto a side table and pushed himself from his chair, meeting his cousin half way across the rug. “Why do you persist in this? I have no desire to discuss Bingley further with you, as I told you earlier, and even less to talk about Miss Elizabeth Bennet and where her affections lie.”
This unwelcome reminder of her interest in Wickham combined with her obvious disappointment earlier over the revelation of his true character caused sufficient turmoil in Darcy’s mind that he failed to wonder how his cousin might have acquired such intelligence.
For a moment the two men glared at each other, then the Colonel resumed his pacing. Darcy ran a hand through his hair before rubbing his eyes, his anger dying as quickly as it had come. He had no taste for a conversation that centred around any of his Hertfordshire acquaintance, yet he knew there was little point in resistance. His cousin was unlikely to let drop whatever troubled him, and no doubt all would reveal itself soon enough. With a weary sigh, Darcy resumed his seat and reclaimed his glass, nursing it in his lap resignedly.
Much as anticipated, Fitzwilliam turned on his heel to face him, shaking his head from side to side as he studied Darcy intently. “I have no wish to quarrel with you, man – but it angered me to see you err in such a way. If there is some justification for what you did…” he paused for a moment. “Do you wish to explain?”
“You imply I have some choice in the matter.”
“I am all ears, Darcy.”
“I must disagree. You use your mouth to much effect, Cousin.”
“Well, one of us must be prone to garrulousness – how else might we ever hold a conversation?”
For a moment both men observed each other in silence; then, Darcy sighed. “Might I enquire how it was that you found out?”
“A series of conjectures. Mrs Collins has just supplied the final clues to the riddle, of course, but I had noted that Miss Bennet suffered a lowness of spirits during our recent walk, and was indisposed thereafter– it merely took until this evening to discern that my indiscretion yesterday was likely the cause.”
Darcy sat bolt upright. “Indiscretion? Fitzwilliam, what have you done?” For the first time since they entered the room, the Colonel looked defensive, and he took a hefty swig from his glass that left it imminently in need of replenishment.
“I told you – I met with Miss Bennet whilst taking my usual tour of the park and turned back with her to escort her as far as the parsonage gate.” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “During our walk, in an attempt to show you in a better light, I advised her of the recent service you rendered a friend, whom I supposed to be Bingley. Of course, at the time I knew not the identity of the lady in question.”
Darcy sank back into his chair as he realised both the significance of the knowledge imparted and its timing, then shook his head at his cousin.
“For a military man you are extraordinarily loose with your tongue, Cousin.”
Fitzwilliam held out his hand indicating
Darcy’s half-empty glass, and he drained it before handing it over. As the Colonel walked over to the drinks tray, he addressed Darcy over his shoulder. “Then you are not too cross with me? It was not my intention to reveal such distressing news to someone so closely connected with it. Indeed, in all honesty it was an attempt to illustrate the goodness of your character.”
Darcy let out a bitter laugh. “Then you would have better saved your breath. Nothing could have demonstrated the opposite further than to have confirmed to Miss Elizabeth Bennet the depth of my interference with Bingley and the object of his affections.”
The Colonel glanced somewhat sheepishly over at Darcy before returning his attention to their glasses. “She seemed quite out of spirits with your good deed. With hindsight, I begin to see why.”
Darcy nodded thoughtfully. “I do not doubt that she had her suspicions.”
Their glasses now replenished, the Colonel resumed his seat.
“I must own that my attempt to sketch your character ultimately led to my anger over your behaviour. I struggle yet to approve your actions, but what is done is done. The question that remains now is this: what are you going to do to put things to rights?”
“What is there to be done?”
“But you cannot leave things as they are! The happiness of people who are dear to you is at stake, and if you cannot take into account your friend, then at least consider Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She has rejected a proposal of marriage from the vapid Collins to await one that now will never come!”
Gripped by the strength of his emotions, Darcy rose purposefully from his chair and walked over to the fireplace before turning to face his cousin.
“You astound me, Fitzwilliam. Surely even you can comprehend why I had to intervene.”
“What? Because you could not have her, you would not let anyone? You claimed only yesterday that she is everything to you, yet this is how you serve her?”
Assimilating his cousin’s words, Darcy nodded slowly. “So that is what I revealed. I did wonder…”
The Colonel let out a huff of breath. “Well, to little avail, it would seem. You cannot hold her in true esteem, man, for if you did you would never destroy her happiness in such a manner.”
Darcy brought his fist down upon the mantel and then turned to face his cousin, his expression one of incredulity.
“You mean to say, knowing all his evil tendencies, his proclivities, you would have me not disabuse her of them?” Darcy stared at his cousin in disbelief. “That is what you call acting to destroy her happiness?”
“What? Evil… his proclivities? Bingley?”
“Bingley? I speak not of Bingley, Fitzwilliam. There is more than him in all of this!”
“How can that be, when he is the origin of both your loss and your most singular behaviour? You alleged Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s indifference to him, but her affections are clearly engaged.”
“What?” Darcy passed a hand across his eyes, trying to digest this. Then, he shook his head. “You are mistaken, Cousin. Bingley is not the recipient of her affections.”
“No longer, that is as may be, but down to your actions alone.”
Darcy frowned. “Bingley is not, now or ever has been, enamoured of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Nor she him. I cannot comprehend why you would think so.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam stared at him, his mouth slightly agape. Then, he rose from his chair and came to stand opposite Darcy.
“Then I will own to being somewhat confused.”
“In that you are not alone.” Darcy sighed. “What exactly is it that you would have me guilty of?”
The Colonel shrugged.
“You told me yourself that you saved a friend from a most imprudent marriage – I assumed all along it was Bingley, for he is the sort to get into a scrape of that kind, and you were together all of last winter. And everything I discerned this evening pointed to the woman being Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Darcy expelled a slow breath as he absorbed this. “And they let you lead young men into battle, Cousin? I trust you secure the veracity of your evidence more thoroughly on the battle field than you do in the drawing room before launching your assault.”
“Very funny, Darce. But tell me, if not she, then who?”
“Her sister.”
Fitzwilliam frowned. “Which one? There are several, are there not?”
“The eldest, Miss Jane Bennet.”
“Ah. So it was she who was indifferent to him.”
There was a pregnant pause as they observed each other, the only sound being the crackling of the logs in the grate. Then, the Colonel shrugged his shoulders.
“I must tender my apologies, Darcy. I confess to being rather shocked by my own surmises – it is not behaviour that I could comprehend coming from you, and I should perchance have fixed upon that before drawing my erroneous conclusion.”
“You forget, Fitzwilliam, that I am well versed with your impetuosity.”
Darcy found that he could rouse no anger, for he was struck forcibly by the fact that his cousin’s displeasure with him was nothing to Elizabeth’s, in either depth or longevity. Beyond this he struggled to think, having neither the energy nor the inclination for further debate.
“Then let us drink to having cleared up our misunderstanding.”
Chapter Thirteen
Leaving Darcy to freshen their glasses, the Colonel prodded a recalcitrant log with his boot to encourage it into the flames. “I have been on the wrong trail entirely. But wait! Is this not excellent news?”
“How so?” Darcy glanced over his shoulder at his cousin.
“If you are not guilty of separating Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Bingley, as I supposed, and the lady is thusly not harbouring feelings of rejection and resentment, then your path is clear.”
Darcy let out a noncommittal grunt at this and turned his back again to pick up the decanter, trying in vain to shut out his cousin’s voice.
“You have acknowledged to yourself the depth of your feelings; you must act! What do a lack of prominent connections and a minimal dowry mean to you, and as for the family’s conduct – good Lord, Darcy, Hertfordshire and Derbyshire are sufficiently distanced for it to be irrelevant, and who are we to judge others on their ill-mannered relations? Do you fear rejection?”
Darcy winced as the decanter stopper slipped from his hand onto the tray, but his cousin continued.
“No woman is going to turn you down, old man. You have been the catch of the season since… well, since you left the womb!”
Staring at the drinks he had just poured, Darcy concentrated on breathing slowly, evenly. Emotions that stemmed from the very depths of his being had been wrung from him these past four and twenty hours, and he was all but drained. He knew full well that he could retire for the evening, keeping his awful secret safe, but Fitzwilliam was akin to a hound after a fox once onto the scent of something, and Darcy possessed intelligence that could silence his cousin forever on the question of Miss Elizabeth Bennet – and the time had come to do so.
Straightening his shoulders and taking a glass in each hand, he turned to face the Colonel.
“Miss Bennet would not have me.”
“Yes, yes, very droll, Darcy. I respect Miss Elizabeth Bennet more highly than I do any other young woman of our acquaintance, but rejecting the ridiculous Collins is hardly the test of one’s resolve in earnest. Come man, think! Nothing would induce a woman of her good sense and intelligence to be bound to such a man. There is no comparison between the two offers; one is infinitely superior to the other.”
Darcy threw Fitzwilliam a look of sheer exasperation as he walked over and thrust one of the glasses at him, resisting the temptation to pour it over his cousin’s head. How was it none of his regiment had sought him out before now and murdered him in the still of night?
“You misunderstand me. It was-”
“So where is the impediment?”
Darcy stared at his cousin. “I beg your pardon?”
“T
he impediment!”
“Impediment?”
“Yes – the obstruction, the encumbrance, the…”
“I do not fail to know its meaning, Fitzwilliam!”
“Then why the repetition?” The Colonel shook his head. “You are beginning to resemble a parrot, Darcy. It does not bode well.”
Darcy bit back an expletive and turned his head aside in frustration before returning his gaze to his cousin. “Fitzwilliam!” he paused, then stated slowly and clearly, “Please explain your meaning.”
The Colonel shrugged his shoulders, raising both hands to emphasise the point, as they returned to their chairs on either side of the fireplace. “I assumed there was some obstacle to offering for the lady. Why is it that you deny yourself the opportunity to secure her?”
Leaning his head back against the leather of his chair once more, Darcy observed his cousin waiting expectantly for a response and wondered just how much longer he could endure this farce of an evening.
Suddenly, Fitzwilliam raised his chin, and then he nodded. “Ah. I see.”
Darcy sighed. “What do you see? No doubt it is several furlongs distant from what is actually in front of you.”
“The lady’s desire to seek a match of mutual regard – she must harbour tender feelings for someone else. Mrs Collins did hint at a recent disappointment, yet I had assumed it to be Bingley. If not he, I wonder who this fellow might be?”
This reminder of Wickham’s place in Elizabeth’s affections was sufficient to force Darcy from his seat once more. In an attempt to conceal his agitation, he grabbed the poker and rammed it into the strongly burning logs, causing them to spark and hiss. He was about to repeat the action when the poker was taken firmly from his grasp and restored to its usual resting place.
“Am I to assume from your vigorous attack upon that poor innocent log that you know the gentleman concerned? I am sorry, man. It is an impediment indeed.” The Colonel rested a comforting hand on Darcy’s shoulder, but he shook it aside and straightened up before meeting his cousin’s eye.
A Fair Prospect Page 10
