“As you always do,” agreed Fitzwilliam. “Take all the time you like, for I do not suppose Miss Elizabeth is going anywhere for the moment.”
A sudden thought occurred to Fitzwilliam, and he grinned. “Then again, as I recall, sheisto travel in March.”
“Oh?” asked Darcy.
“As you are aware, Miss Lucas is to marry Mr. Collins in early January. Though I do not know the details, I have heard something of an invitation from the future Mrs. Collins to visit her in the spring at Hunsford. Theyarefamous friends, if you recall.”
Darcy was uncertain whether to laugh at the notion of Miss Elizabeth confounding Aunt Catherine or worry about the possibility of disaster.
“I see you have apprehended my concern,” said Fitzwilliam.
“I have,” agreed Darcy. “If I am courting Miss Elizabeth, the matter must be kept from Lady Catherine’s ears. Should I have proposed and received her consent by that time, the visit becomes inadvisable at best.”
“To be certain.”
“Then I shall reflect on what you have said.”
“Good.”
Fitzwilliam fixed him with a steely glare. “Darcy, I would not injure you by suggesting that you are anything other than an excellent, upright man, but let me make something clear. As Miss Elizabeth will becomemysister should I induce Miss Bennet to accept me, her concerns will become mine. I know you will not toy with her as Wickham might, but I do not wish to allow any lukewarm interest on your part. Should you decide in Miss Elizabeth’s favor, then do her the courtesy of treating her as a woman worthy of being pleased. If you do not, please bow out. No middle ground.”
The tight nod was all that Darcy offered in response, and Fitzwilliam was content with it. Soon after, Darcy excused himself toreturn to his room, where he engaged in considering all that his cousin had said. Though Darcy had never thought about the situation in terms his cousin had asserted, he could not say that Fitzwilliam was incorrect. It was a simple fact that he did not appreciate society. He could think of half a dozen of his less savory connections that he preferred to forget altogether, to say nothing of his distaste for many young ladies. Not all were so reprehensible as such an opinion would suggest, but most of the rest did not interest him.
The primary issue was whether Miss Elizabeth could make him happy, and though Darcy had thought of it even less, whetherhecould makeherhappy. Very few women of any level of society other than the highest sets would refuse him if he offered for them, but did he wish for such a woman as a wife? Miss Elizabeth had always seemed like an independent woman, yet he had always thought she would espouse expectations if he paid her too much attention. If she would, then she did not differ greatly from the many debutantes who crowded society.
Darcy stayed in his room and pondered his wishes, but while he was yet unable to understand them, one fact became apparent. The attraction he had felt for Miss Elizabeth in the autumn was real, and the benefits of having her as a wife were obvious—those benefits might outweigh what he would lose if he chose her, likely by a large margin. A lifetime of expectations was not overcome in a single afternoon, but the more he thought on the matter, the more the idea appealed to him.
Chapter VIII
As the days passed and December gave way to January, Mr. Darcy stayed in the neighborhood, though Elizabeth could not fathom his reasons. As there were no ladies at Netherfield, the Bennets could not visit there, but Colonel Fitzwilliam came to Longbourn almost every day and dined there at least once or twice a week. Mr. Darcy accompanied him every time he came.
Sometimes he sat without saying much, and if Elizabeth were to guess his state of mind, she thought he was contemplative and perhaps even a little curious. The gentleman often kept himself aloof in company, sometimes with a steaming cup of tea in hand, usually with an expression of absent attention. More often, however, Elizabeth found herself the recipient of his attention. Whether he meant anything by it, she could not determine, but he spoke more to her than to the rest of her family combined, other than Mr. Bennet, with whom he stood frequently.
The matters they discussed were varying—no guiding hand directed them toward any particular subject. Literature was a common theme between them as they shared their preferences, their dislikes, and their impressions of what they read. But they often indulged in other matters of substance, such as impressions of their homes,anecdotes of their families, and activities in which they liked to engage. Elizabeth learned more about his highborn relations than anyone else in the neighborhood, and Mr. Darcy spoke of his sister with all the pride and affection of an elder brother.
“Georgiana is but sixteen, your sister Lydia’s age.”
“Lydia will not be sixteen for several months,” corrected Elizabeth. “Sometimes her behavior gives the impression of being older.”
Mr. Darcy appeared interested. “Please do not think I mean to criticize, but she seems full young to be out much in society.”
At that moment, Lydia was saying something to Mary, her usual target for teasing—Mary, as was her custom, was giving as good as she got, though in her quiet way, which Lydia assumed was capitulation. Of all the sisters, they were the two who were at odds the most, for Lydia thought Mary was dowdy and prudish—a claim not entirely without merit—and Mary considered Lydia an ill-bred child who should not be out of the nursery—true, in Elizabeth’s opinion.
“Can I assume your sister is not out, Mr. Darcy?” asked Elizabeth.
“She is not,” replied Mr. Darcy. “Next summer, I intend to allow her to attend events near our home in Derbyshire, but she will not be presented in London for another two years.”
“What sort of girl is she?” asked Elizabeth, curious how Mr. Darcy would answer. Wickham, back when she had still trusted him, had answered a similar question with a comment about her pride being akin to her brother’s. Mr. Darcy must know his sister better than Mr. Wickham did, but his opinion would also be colored by the affection of a close sibling.
“Georgiana is shy,” replied Mr. Darcy. “She is a good girl, never giving us the least trouble, diligent in her studies, and excessively fond of the pianoforte.”
“Ah, yes,” laughed Elizabeth. “I recall Miss Bingley’s excessive praise of your sister’s performance.”
Mr. Darcy made a face, not unexpected. “Miss Bingley has heard Georgiana play but once. While I believe my sister is as accomplished as her age allows, Miss Bingley exaggerated her talent.”
“Trust me, Mr. Darcy—that much I have apprehended.”
With a nod, the gentleman said: “I love my sister, Miss Elizabeth. Since our father’s untimely passing, I have become, in many respects, a father to her.”
