Again, Bingley’s eyes found him, and Darcy’s sharp-eyed cousin caught the gesture. Darcy tried to glare at his cousin, a warning to remain silent, but Fitzwilliam ignored him.
“Might I assume Darcy stuck his nose in where it did not belong?”
“Darcy had a part in it,” said Bingley, “though I believe his advice was well meant. The greater portion of the argument was my sisters’, though I share some of the blame for not standing by my convictions.”
“Yes, I cannot but suppose youdo,” said Fitzwilliam. “I hope you repented of your uncertainty.”
“Without a doubt, Fitzwilliam,” said Bingley with a grin. “I shall grovel at her feet if I think it has any chance of success.”
“Then I cannot imagine she can resist you, Bingley,” said Fitzwilliam. “If you must, lean Miss Bingley over your knee and spank her, proving you will never listen toheragain!”
Bingley roared with laughter, and true to Fitzwilliam’s assertion, Lady Catherine only snorted before lapsing into her soft snoring again.
“She would deserve it!” exclaimed Bingley. “And richly.”
Fitzwilliam grinned and turned to Darcy. “I hope you learned your lesson, Darcy.”
“I have,” replied Darcy, wishing this interminable conversation would end. Unfortunately, it was about to become worse.
“There is a part of this saga about which you are unaware, Darcy; I suppose I should acquaint you with it.”
Darcy regarded his cousin, wondering what he was about. “What do you mean?” asked he against his better judgment.
“Only that a few days before we left Kent, I chanced upon Miss Bennet walking the grounds of Rosings Park. I offered to accompany her of course, and during our conversation, I mentioned something of your recent doings that I now regret.”
The icy hand of foreboding gripped Darcy’s heart, but before he could prevent Fitzwilliam, he continued to speak.
“Though I could not know at the time—Ididsuspect—it pertains to this situation with your friend, his beloved, and the lovely Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Now that I think about it,she appeared distressed though at the time I thought it was a product of too long in the sun. What I said to her I think you can guess, for it concerned your recent self-congratulations for having lately saved a friend from the inconvenience of a most imprudent marriage.”
“Fitzwilliam!” barked Darcy, aghast at what his friend said. “I referenced the business only obliquely andmost certainlydid not state it in such insensitive terms.”
“No, you did not,” agreed Fitzwilliam, smiling apologetically at Bingley. “In this instance, I suppose I must look on my habit of embellishment with a jaundiced eye.”
Far from being offended, Bingley appeared most amused. “I cannot imagine Miss Elizabeth appreciated such gossip at all! Why, I suspect she peeled the paint from the walls with nothing more than the knife’s edge of her sharp tongue!”
Fitzwilliam laughed at the observation, while Darcy could do nothing more than shake his head. How Miss Elizabeth had learned of his interference in that matter he had not known, though he had wondered. Now it was all clear. Darcy fixed a glare on his cousin, and Fitzwilliam had the grace to appear abashed.
“Sometimes, Cousin, you are the worst gossip.”
“I suppose I should have kept my own counsel,” replied he. “On that occasion, I will own I had detected some partiality on your part. I spoke intending to impart an amusing anecdote, hoping to raise you in her esteem.”
“Instead, he confirmed her suspicions that Darcy here was responsible for Miss Bennet’s heartache.” Bingley was nearly quivering with laughter. “No doubt she suspected you of chaining me in your dungeon until I gave oath I would not pursue her. Might I assume she found occasion to make her displeasure known to you without the possibility of misunderstanding?”
Darcy sighed and wearily massaged his temples. “Let us simply say that she communicated her anger with great proficiency.”
“I can well imagine it,” said Fitzwilliam. He turned a serious look on Darcy and said: “I apologize, Cousin, for I had no notion the tale would be anything other than amusing.”
“Do not concern yourself, Fitzwilliam,” was Darcy’s only response. It was his fault, after all—Fitzwilliam had not created the situation. Perhaps he had fanned the flames of Miss Elizabeth’s ire, but Darcy had set the bonfire, positioning each stick and log with painstaking care certain to provoke her disapproval.
Bingley, however, regarded him through wide eyes. “With all this, you still believe you have a chance of inducing her to accept your suit. You will forgive me, my friend, but Miss Elizabeth has always struck me as a woman who is implacable when one toys with her family, especially Miss Bennet.”
“Yes, that is true,” said Darcy. “Before I left Kent, however, I had occasion to explain matters to her, to clear up certain... misconceptions she had about me.”
“That is how you learned of your error regarding Miss Bennet,” said Bingley with a nod.
“It is,” confirmed Darcy. “Now that you will return to Miss Bennet, her sister will not hold that against me, for while she can be implacable, she is also reasonable. Another matter I made clear to her is the truth about Wickham.”
Fitzwilliam shot Darcy a look, likely wondering whether Georgiana’s episode with Wickham had formed part of his explanation. It had, but that was not something about which to speak at present. Fitzwilliam seemed to realize it too, though the set of his jaw suggested he meant to have that discussion, and likely sooner than Darcy might wish.
