“A letter from my mother.”
“A letter from your mother or a lovely lass from Hertfordshire?”
“Cousin, you speak out of turn. Leave Miss Elizabeth out of this discussion.”
“But, it is evident you know to whom I referred.”
Darcy could not deny his cousin’s accusation and thought it best to hold his tongue but his cousin persisted. “I do not believe—”
“Richard! Anne is my betrothed. There can be no one else.”
“Don’t be coy, Darcy.” Richard straightened his shoulders and pointed his finger at his cousin. “I know you!”
“And I know you, Richard and you are upset about something. Is it a woman?”
“A woman, Darcy? Are you going to give me advice on women?”
Darcy turned back suddenly at the bitterness in Richard’s voice.
The room was heavy with silence before Darcy could speak. “You love her. You love Anne.” He sat down as his eyes sought his cousins. “I have suspected, but…”
Richard met his gaze again and after he set aside his coffee, he nodded his acquiescence. “For almost as long as I can remember.”
Shaking his head in disbelief, Darcy said, “Then why did you not make your feelings known?”
“To whom?” Richard threw his head back and laughed sardonically. “To you, my cousin with the strongest sense of duty and honor? To my aunt, who has salivated like a hound at a hunt with the prospect of her daughter marrying into the wealth of Pemberley?”
“Blast, Richard! How was I to know?”
“No one was to know. But what can be done? Are you ready now to step aside out of sense of duty? For love? Has anything changed by your knowing?”
“You know it is impossible. This has been expected since our infancy. Anne expects it.”
“Anne?” Richard barked. “Anne? You think that if you must. You have no idea what she desires. Have we not already established that? She does not love you!”
“Are you saying she loves you?”
Richard shrugged. “But how does any of this matter? You have been searching for a letter from my aunt Anne which may or may not exist. Which may or not refute Lady Catherine’s claim to you.”
Darcy deflated. “Richard, I am sorry, but I fear it is an impossible quest. And what of my duty to Anne? It is the expectation of our family.”
“Expectations be hanged!” Richard cried, standing abruptly. “Why must we do as our families dictate? Why must you marry Anne? Why must I someday marry an heiress I hardly know who my mother will choose only because she has a fortune? We are men from wealth and power, of the Upper Ten Thousand, and yet we are not free to choose the course of our own lives! Darcy, you are master of your own destiny. Would that I was born the son of a blacksmith.” Richard’s bravado began to fail him, and he sank back down in his chair.
If only there were a way.
* * *
“Your dressfor the ball is exquisite!”
“It is,” Lizzy said, fingering the silk. “It is much finer than anything I have ever owned—or may ever own again. But not you, dear Jane. Now that you are to be a married woman, this gown will pale in comparison in your wardrobe as Mrs. Charles Bingley.”
“No, Lizzy. I cannot imagine wearing the dresses which Caroline favors. Charles is very generous and has spoken of setting appointment with the drapers for the Season already, but our wedding is not for two months.”
“Yes,” Lizzy said, holding her new gown to herself in front of the mirror. “And before the Season, we could have a little Charles on the way.”
“Lizzy!” Jane replied, flushing red.
“Oh, darling, I am so happy for you. Mama must be in raptures.” Lizzy embraced her sister and taking pity on Jane’s discomfiture, returned to the conversation of her gown. “I should not have accepted it but Georgiana was insistent.”
