Rutherford met them in person at the door, bowing over Georgiana’s hand before she had finished taking off her cloak. “Miss Darcy, you look sublime.”
Georgiana blushed deeply but looked pleased.
Turning to them, Rutherford held out his hand and shook first with Darcy, then Fitzwilliam, to whom he said, “It has been entirely too long. Darcy tells me Barclay is travelling. I trust he is keeping well?”
“So we are all assuming, for my mother’s sake. And you? You look well. I cannot believe Darcy did not recognise you. You have not changed a bit.”
“I did recognise him, once the confusion over names was resolved,” Darcy pointed out.
“You did, you did!” Rutherford agreed. “But we need not stand about in the cold when we can reminisce more comfortably in the warm with a drink in our hands.” He gestured to the nearest door.
“Hear, hear!” Fitzwilliam cried, and since he was closer to it than anyone else, Rutherford indicated that he should go through first, which he did, with alacrity. The viscount took the opportunity to step in behind him to offer Georgiana his arm.
Very sly,Darcy thought as he followed after them all. He frowned when a female voice from within the next room said uncivilly, “Oh, it is you. I was hoping Miss Darcy would be accompanied by one of her less irksome relations.”
“Tuppence!” Rutherford said through gritted teeth as he relinquished Georgiana’s arm and hastened into the room. “You promised me you would behave.”
Georgiana paused to glance anxiously over her shoulder, mouthing, “Lady Tuppence!”
Darcy did not wonder at her bewilderment, for the woman sounded much more in accordance with Fitzwilliam’s description than Georgiana’s. He gestured for her to keep walking.
“Pray, do not behave on my account,” he heard Fitzwilliam say in a tone that seemed entirely too cheerful for the circumstances.
“Have you brought your cousin with you?” the woman asked.
Georgiana had not taken Darcy’s advice and remained rooted to the spot, nervously wringing her hands together.
“This is Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Rutherford said. “I told you—Miss Darcyishis cousin.”
“I meant his other cousin,” Lady Tuppence replied. “The one with the decided opinions.”
Darcy took Georgiana’s arm and gently but firmly walked her into the room. If this pantomime was to continue, he would at least see all the players.
“As it happens, heishere,” Fitzwilliam was saying, “but I ought to explain. You see, we thought?—”
“You?”
Darcy looked up, surprised to discover the woman Fitzwilliam was addressing—Lady Tuppence, he presumed—looking directly at him, her expression one of unqualified outrage. She was handsome, fashionably attired, and betrayed all the bearing and assurance of elevated rank. He had the feeling he had seen her before, though he had no idea where, nor why she might be so angry with him.
She raised a finger to point at him with such fervour that Darcy would not have been surprised if she had stalked across the room to poke him in the chest with it had she not been sitting down.
“Youhad the gall to accuse Rutherford of being a scoundrel? Upon my word! If anyone’s conduct has been ungentlemanlike, it is yours, sir.”
Georgiana let out a small whimper. Darcy squeezed her arm reassuringly, though he was deeply affronted—more so on account of her choice of words, so like Elizabeth’s when she rejected his offer of marriage. He had made considerable efforts to redress the defects in his character since then and did not like being accused of failing. He opened his mouth to reply but was anticipated by Rutherford, who had turned puce with anger.
“Good God, Tuppence, what are you about? This is Mr Darcy—Miss Darcy’sbrother! He is a consummate gentleman!” ToDarcy, he said, “I can only apologise, Darcy. This is my cousin, Lady Tuppence Swanbrook, and I have no idea what has got into her.”
“Do not be in too much haste to apologise, Cousin,” she interposed. “You might be less eager to humble yourself when you hearthisis the man who has been putting about the rumour that you are a rake, not to be trusted with ladies’ reputations.”
Fitzwilliam cleared his throat. “Nobody was ‘putting about a rumour’, madam. As I was trying to explain…”
Darcy stopped listening to him. The vague sense that he recognised Lady Tuppence had grown while she was speaking. It was her voice that brought the recollection flooding back to him with a jolt. “I did not call Rutherford a rake, madam. You did.”
Fitzwilliam stopped talking and frowned at him in puzzlement.
“I beg your pardon?” Lady Tuppence demanded with great indignation.
Georgiana had tugged her arm away and was staring at Darcy aghast, but that only made him more determined to prove his innocence.
