“Oh, leave off, Fitzwilliam,” Anne replied. “While I applaud your working on your manners, and perfectly well comprehend Jane’s problem with appearances, you are practising on the wrong Bennet sister.”
Jane gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
Anne said, “Oops!”
Darcy said, “Never mind. I shall answer Miss Bennet’s questions anyway, so let us at least get moving.”
Jane found the Darcy coach the finest she had ever entered, and Ellen Taylor was certain of it. As much as Anne would have liked to sit beside her friend, that would put poor Miss Taylor in an awkward position, so she took the seat beside her cousin. Darcy noticed the care given to the arrangement and whispered to her,“Are you certain you are not adopted?”
Anne laughed gaily, and Darcy rapped the roof of the carriage to depart, and spent a few minutes settling.
Anne took charge. “William, by my count you are about halfway through any number of topics and finished with none.”
She started ticking them off on her fingers. “There is the future Mrs Ellen; the Four Horsewomen, which I imagine will be some type of apocalyptic discussion; and then of course the almighty third point: Janie’s three questions.”
“You are confused regarding the horsewomen,” Darcy replied. “The horsemensignal the Apocalypse. I hope the horsewomen signal redemption and renewal.”
All three ladies looked at him in confusion, and Ellen bravely asked, “Will you eventually begin to make sense?”
Darcy laughed, and the tension eased.
Pleased with Anne's new nickname for her, Jane smiled in approval. “Do not forget ‘Oops!’”
Darcy tried his best to look scholarly. “Well, that question is but another form of your third query: What in the world have you done with my sister?”
Jane looked at him with dawning realisation, her face growing more surprised, before she almost shouted, “You are in love with her!”
Darcy bowed from the waist with the best show of respect he could manage in a carriage, trying not to fall into her lap, which would have ruined the effect.
“Yes, I am, but there is much more to tell, none of which paints me in a favourable light; or even a less than terrible one.”
Disregarding propriety, Jane slid forward in her seat until her knees were less than an inch from Darcy’s, boldly took his hands, and searched his face for a long moment. He accepted the examination as her just due and simply let the lady make her own assessment.
Eventually, Jane released his hands, slid back into the seat, and asked, “Did you anger or frighten her?”
Darcy sighed resignedly. “Both! Confused her as well.”
He could not meet her gaze.
Jane’s expression hardened. “Did you dishonour or compromise her?”
Darcy’s face paled. “No!” he cried with a finality that brooked no argument.
Jane studied him closely for a moment while Anne and Ellen looked on, then sighed. “I need a few minutes to ponder. Perhaps you can return to Ellen or the horsewomen.”
“Miss Taylor, do you believe in fate?”
"’Course I do. Life'd be a sad and scattered affair if we couldna believe in something beyond ourselves. I'll not be rattling on about it all day, but some things are meant to be."
“Let me tell you a about my friend Robert Breton. As I said, he is one of the few men I trust implicitly. I can tell you there has been only one true calamity in my family, and it occurred when he was absent. To this day, I believe he would have prevented the misfortune had he been present.”
“Are you to be a matchmaker, sir?”
“Certainly not! If you allow it, I am to be anintroduction maker. You are almost certainly one of my horsewomen, so I feel a sort of familial responsibility for you—something like an older cousin or uncle. If you like Breton, all will be well, but understand this: if you do not, you need not accept him. I will introduce you to others until you are satisfied.”
The ladies gasped and stared at him, but only Anne had the foresight to ask, “Why, Cousin? I understand your attachment to Breton. I would snatch him up myself if I could, but why Ellen? Much as I like her, you have less than an hour’s acquaintance.”
Darcy saw everyone staring at him. “Have you ever felt that something has a certain rightness to it? A quality so inherentlyrightthat to fail to do it would bewrong? Not merely negligent, or a lost opportunity, but awrong—practically a crime? To give it less than your fullest effort would be cowardly and vile?”
