A Fair Prospect

by Cassandra Grafton

  “And when do you hope to return?”

  “I anticipate being absent from Town no more than four and twenty hours.” The Colonel sat forward in his chair. “This was not the business that requires a moment of your time.”

  Darcy eyed his cousin warily. “Would you care to enlighten me?”

  “There are two matters, to be precise, the first of which relates to your conversation with Georgiana.”

  Darcy sighed. For how much longer would he feel obligated to talk about such things? Tapping his fingers on the desk, he held his cousin's gaze for a moment. “What is it you would know?”

  “All I ask is what you have revealed, lest I step amiss with her. Less than you have shared with me, I suspect, though I must own that the atmosphere was a trifle thick upstairs.”

  “I told her as much as I felt I could.”

  “I did not expect you to tell her aught.” The Colonel studied his cousin for a moment. “Though your spirits remain somewhat depressed, I am at a loss to discern how she could identify the cause.”

  Pushing himself out of his chair, Darcy walked over to the full- length windows that led out into the walled garden. The view was reminiscent of that from Georgiana's small sitting room on the first floor, and the emotions rising in his chest were strikingly similar also, evoking a strong desire to escape into the garden's seclusion.

  “Darce?”

  He turned back to face his cousin. “Georgiana has harboured some concerns for me since my sojourn in Hertfordshire, fearing I was – not myself. Having remarked a change in my demeanour upon my return from Kent, followed by...” Darcy clasped his hands together to still the agitation of his fingers. “Followed by the letter from Anne this morning-” Darcy threw Fitzwilliam a helpless look.

  “Hmph. So I was not the only one she chose to abuse in her letter. Yet I suspect she had more telling observations about you than your digestive habits?”

  Darcy dropped his hands to his sides and turned back to stare out into the garden.

  “Yes – yes, she had, and thus I have admitted to admiring Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and that my sentiments are far from returned, but nothing more. I could not – I would not tell Georgiana of my rejection. She would break her heart over the – over my-” He sighed heavily. “I cannot allow that.”

  The Colonel walked over to stand beside him. “I am of a mind to agree. Yet-”

  “Does there have to be a yet?”

  The Colonel smirked. “I fear so. But come now, think man. You have put things to rights with Bingley – at least as far as you are able without unduly interfering once more. It is down to him to act, if he is to secure Miss Bennet. You have cleared your name regarding Wickham's infamy. You know that the lady is due in Town today, is she not?”

  Involuntarily, Darcy's eyes flew to the clock on the mantel. At this late hour of the afternoon, Elizabeth would most certainly be in Town – then he forced the thought aside and returned his gaze to his cousin once more.

  “Of all these things I am aware, Fitzwilliam, but I will not indulge in false hope. Even if her ill feeling towards me has eased somewhat, there remains too wide a chasm between her original abhorrence and any likelihood that she could… that she would ever consider accepting my attentions.”

  A surge of emptiness swept through him as he spoke these words aloud, and Darcy turned back to the windows and released the catch, pushing them wide and stepping outside into the cooling afternoon. He drew in a deep lungful of air, relishing in its freshness before breathing out slowly.

  “But, Darcy, surely you can-”

  “No, Fitzwilliam, I cannot.” He turned to face his cousin where he stood framed in the open doorway. “Please do not attempt to persuade me otherwise. Besides, as I have previously told you, there is the further impediment of the lady harbouring feelings for another.”

  The Colonel shook his head. “I disagree. Taken in she may have been, but I believe the lady to have too much good sense, once apprised of Wickham's true character, to remain enamoured of the man. Even Georgiana, who believed herself fully in love with the scoundrel, has admitted to me that she is cured of her affection.”

  Darcy stared at the Colonel.

  “You may well be surprised, Cousin, but it is true. Once his real intent came out, it did not take Georgiana long to admit an infatuation for what it was. Her spirits have been badly affected, I grant you, but she has lately owned to me that it was down to self-reproach for her own gullibility, coupled with despair over having caused you such concern.”

  For a moment, Darcy was silent as he absorbed these words, acknowledging both the relief they brought him on his sister's behalf, and their veracity. Her demeanour and indeed her own words that very afternoon had proved her to be more than adequately recovered.

  “Thus, what is there to lose in seeking out a certain lady?”

  With a frustrated gesture, Darcy threw his cousin a warning look, to which the Colonel responded merely with a shrug of his shoulders. “I am at a loss to understand why you will not attempt a continuation of the acquaintance.”

  “Yet I am not. You do not fully comprehend the depth of Miss Bennet's antipathy for me. Even should she recover from her disappointment over Wickham, there is no reason for her to think sufficiently well of me to – she – I –” Darcy expelled a deep breath as he flexed both hands restlessly. “Her poor opinion of me was well-ingrained long before Wickham became part of the local populace.”

  The Colonel studied him, eyes narrowed, for a moment. “And so we come to it. There is more to this than just Wickham and Bingley.”

  Turning on his heel, Darcy strode down the steps and set off along the path that ran the length of the garden, unheeding of the effects of the spring planting that had reached its full potential, or the pleasing signs that summer fast approached.

  “So Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s ill opinion precedes Wickham's attempts to blacken your character.” His cousin’s voice followed him down the path, as did his footsteps, his boots crunching loudly on the gravel.

  Refusing to heed him, Darcy's eyes scoured the edges of the path as he walked. Then he shook his head at his own stupidity; his garden was far too well tended to offer up what he sought.

  “Would you care to enlighten me, or do I make my own assumptions? Be warned. In case you have forgotten, I am not infallible in my deductions.” Garnering no response, the Colonel continued. “She had a poor opinion of you formed in relation to what, Darcy? What did you do?”

  Darcy pointedly ignored his cousin's question, continuing his rapid walk towards the rear of the garden, yet his action did not deter the Colonel, who kept pace with him, continuing his ruminations aloud.

  “I say, Darce, would it perchance have anything to do with what Miss Bennet spoke of at Rosings – you recall, I am sure, that evening at the pianoforte?”

  Coming to a halt as he reached the terrace near the far wall, Darcy looked about in vain, he knew not what for, but his cousin was relentless in his pursuit, and stepped onto a neighbouring flagstone.

  “She referred to the occasion of your first meeting, did she not?”

  Swinging on his heel to face his cousin, Darcy bit out: “Be done, Fitzwilliam.”

  “Oh no, this is far from done. I am close to the source of the matter, it would seem. Now, let me think... yes, did not the lady tell me so herself? She first encountered you at an assembly, where you would not trouble yourself to dance with any of the local populace.”

  “I was in no mood to become acquainted with... with anyone.”

  The Colonel shook his head resignedly. “Please tell me that you did not do that stupid thing whereby you stand there all stiff and bored- looking – being tall renders you impossible to look down upon but permits you that liberty by default.”

  Feeling a wave of discomfort sweep through him, Darcy walked over to the wooden summerhouse that had been built for Georgiana that she might be able to sit in the garden regardless of the weather.

  “I have obs
erved you these many years, Darce; you exude disapproval, did you know that?”

  About to lift the latch and open the gate, Darcy's hand dropped to his side, and he turned to face his cousin. “I beg your pardon?”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam gestured with his arm. “In society – even be it the highest the ton can offer. And I wager you presented the same countenance and air to a small country neighbourhood – yet there you would not be forgiven, would you?” The Colonel grunted. “Country town society, for all its inadequacies, possesses more honesty, less sycophancy. I do not say the latter does not exist,” he continued, acknowledging Darcy's sceptical look, “but that, unlike amongst the ton, it is not prevalent.”

  Shaking his head, Darcy turned back and swung the trellis gate open, ducking his head as he stepped into the summerhouse before walking over to throw himself down onto one of the benches that lined the sides.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Colonel Fitzwilliam followed Darcy into the summerhouse and took up the seat opposite.

  “Come, Darcy, you must own that no amount of ill humour, nor indeed dismissive demeanour, can forestall the society ladies nor their families from fawning over you. Yet I suspect that in Hertfordshire, for all your wealth and standing, such behaviour was not tolerated.”

  Darcy stared at his booted feet, blatantly aware of the accuracy of his cousin's words. Indeed, had he not acknowledged something similar himself, only yesterday during that interminable carriage ride?

  “What perplexes me is why you will not make the attempt now to improve Miss Elizabeth Bennet's opinion of you. You have much to offer: you are from an old and wealthy family, a good master with a sound reputation and in possession of a good character.” Fitzwilliam paused, then sighed affectedly. “It pains me further to acknowledge that you are not unhandsome either, though I am of course biased, and perhaps you are not half so well-looking in other's eyes.”

  Drawing a shallow breath, Darcy lifted his gaze and stared unseeingly out of the summerhouse into the garden. “Just tolerable, perhaps?”

  The Colonel laughed. “Well, perhaps, but I am not so harsh!”

  Darcy shifted his position before looking back at Fitzwilliam. “Yet there you have it, Cousin.”

  “I do not follow you, Darce. You speak in riddles.”

  “I refer to the occasion of my first making the lady’s acquaintance at that assembly in Hertfordshire.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam's eyes widened. “You cannot mean that someone had the gall to refer to you as such? You must have presented yourself in a rare old strop. Did the rustic ale not rest amiably in your refined stomach?”

  Darcy released a frustrated breath before meeting his cousin's smirking countenance. “It is worse than you can ever suppose. It is how I described Miss Elizabeth Bennet to... so that... to avoid having to stand up with her.” The final words came out in a rush, and there was silence as his cousin's amusement turned to astonishment.

  “Avoid?” Fitzwilliam spluttered as he cast an incredulous look upon his cousin. “Darcy, I will never understand you. A woman of Miss Bennet's charms and you would not stand up with her? You deemed her only tolerable and, dear Lord, are you saying that somehow this came to her attention?”

  “It was an attempt to forestall Bingley's enthusiasm for making me dance; a defence, a reaction, and most certainly not said with the intention of being overheard by the subject, nor did I perceive that it had been...” Darcy swallowed with difficulty, attempting to douse the memories of that night as they flooded his mind. “Though I suspect it to be so.”

  The Colonel shook his head. “So, you were both offensive and indiscreet. That is an expensive education well bought! One can only assume you missed the lecture upon how to recommend yourself to young ladies!”

  “I am glad that I am providing you with some entertainment, Cousin,” Darcy snapped; then, he sighed. “What is done is done. I cannot undo creating a poor first impression, nor reinforcing it with my subsequent behaviour thereafter.”

  The Colonel pursed his lips. “So, you troubled yourself little with concealing your distaste for the local populace during your stay, adding to the poor impression you had begun with. But Darcy, you can ensure it is not perpetuated. Miss Bennet has yet to recognise the other aspects of your character. If you encounter her henceforth, then is it not also likely that you will gain an introduction to her connections in Town? What better opportunity could there be?”

  Darcy got to his feet in agitation. “We move in diverse social circles, and reside in completely different parts of London. I will not seek her out, and thus I am unlikely to encounter her. Besides, there is more than distance that separates us, as we have discussed interminably.”

  The Colonel got to his feet as well, studying Darcy in silence for a moment.

  “There is some truth in what you say; but not in all – and thus you lead me neatly into the second matter of business I wished to raise with you.”

  Darcy eyed his cousin warily; a change of topic would be welcome, yet somehow he felt little confidence that his cousin bore any intention of letting go his purpose.

  “And that business is?”

  “Bingley. Am I correct in my assumption that his coming to stay here means he had success in ascertaining Miss Jane Bennet's whereabouts?”

  “You are.”

  “Then he determined the direction from the coachman?”

  Darcy shook his head and walked back over towards the gate of the summerhouse, staring out over the garden. “No – no, he did not. Fate intervened before there was any occasion to do so. Not only did he find out what he sought, but he also paid a call this very morning.”

  “Good Lord! How did that come about?”

  Darcy turned round and leaned against the gate, folding his arms across his chest as he met his cousin's enquiring gaze. “There was an unexpected connection, a mutual acquaintance with whom Bingley breakfasted this morning. He is intimate with the elusive relations.”

  “Really? This... Harington, is it?”

  “Indeed.”

  “How fortuitous.” The Colonel eyed his cousin thoughtfully and then frowned. “Why is the name Harington familiar to me? I still cannot for the life of me recall why.”

  Darcy shrugged, conscious as he had been that morning that he too had felt some peculiarity over the name, as if he should have been cognisant of it. Yet keen though he was to further his cousin's latter train of thought as opposed to the former, he simply said: “And what of Bingley?”

  “Ah yes. Bingley. This re-acquaintance of his with the eldest Miss Bennet – you must comprehend that you stand in imminent danger of encountering her, and thus by association, Miss Bennet's sister?”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  “But you cannot help it.”

  Darcy shook his head and turned to unlatch the gate, his fingers struggling with the catch in his agitation. “I am secure here – Miss Bennet can hardly pay a call upon Bingley. Even should she wish it, convention forbids it. Bingley may elect to call upon her as much as he chooses, but I need not fear the reverse.”

  “But if he is courting the lady's society, you may, as his close friend, encounter her elsewhere, as may Georgiana, by accident.”

  Darcy paled. It was not that he had not hoped and wished for the acquaintance these many months, but now... now what might his sister, in her newfound determination to be of aid to him, draw the courage to say if such a situation presented itself? Darcy felt his skin grow cold as a rush of possibilities flooded his mind, and finally releasing the latch, he pulled the gate open and strode rapidly out of the summerhouse, across the terrace and down onto the gravel pathway.

  “Come, Darcy. This may be something even you cannot control.”

  Fitzwilliam's voice proved him to be hard on Darcy's heels, and with a pointed tap upon the shoulder, he managed to stall his cousin's rapid pace. “Just promise me one thing.”

  Turning to face the Colonel, Darcy met his look with scepticism.
<
br />   “Do not, during my brief absence, exclude me from any forthcoming plans you may make.”

  Darcy's eyes narrowed at this but he said nothing, turning and resuming his walk along the path towards the house, but at a steadier pace, aware that his cousin had fallen into step beside him. He threw Fitzwilliam a glance, then sighed.

  “I have no fixed plans at present, though there is as always a plethora of invitations to sift through. I am as little disposed as ever to partake of the London social scene.”

  “Which is precisely why I caution you not to exclude me when you do, Cousin. It is blatantly obvious you will need my support if you are entering into the fray.”

  Darcy grunted. “I am entering no fray, Cousin. Miss Elizabeth Bennet's aversion to my company followed her from Hertfordshire to Kent – I am under no illusion that she would find my presence any more palatable in London.”

  Having reached the steps that led up to the rear entrance to the house, Darcy stopped again and faced his cousin once more. “Thankfully, our mutual desire to avoid each other's society will doubtless secure us no little measure of success, should the unlikely event of a potential encounter arise.”

  The Colonel gave an ill-suppressed snort. “You cannot become a hermit! Do you propose to never leave the house? How will you explain yourself to your guest, Bingley? How can you deny Georgiana some form of escape?”

  Darcy shook his head. “I shall not be secluding myself, for there is little need. Our paths will not cross. The Bennets are as likely to frequent Mayfair as I am to have business in Cheapside.”

  “Truly?”

  “For pity's sake, what would you have me do? Selfishness and arrogance have been the beginning and end of my present situation. I cannot continue to live in the same way. I have to begin considering the wishes of other people, not just my own. What do you honestly think the lady desires most? To have me purposefully seek her out, or to never lay eyes upon me again?”