“Why do I feel something has happened and you are not telling me?” remarked his cousin. “It is not like you to be in the doldrums. Come, out with it! You will not be able to hide it from me for long. Is this about that sandy-haired gentleman at the theater?”
Darcy knew it would be useless to deny it. His cousin would find ways to get the information from him, one way or the other.
“His name is Mr. Millett, and he seems taken with Miss Bennet.”
“That is hardly surprising. She is a charming young lady, and very pretty to boot. But how do you know his name? Have you spoken to Miss Bennet?”
Darcy recounted what had happened at the dinner the night before.
“That is excellent news, Darcy. This Mr. Millett is the answer to our prayers. This will save me the effort of trying to find someone to marry her. Well, from what you are telling me, he seems like a pleasant, cheerful gentleman. He will suit her better than someone more serious.”
“Miss Bennet is more than capable of serious conversation. She is not trivial.” He took a big gulp of his brandy. “Do not underestimate her.”
Richard gave Darcy another of his enigmatic smiles. These days, he seemed to find amusement in everything. “I see thatyoudo not. It is rare that a young lady meets your approval so thoroughly.”
Darcy took another big gulp of his brandy. “Yes. She has many unusual qualities.” The brandy was starting to fill his head. He was not a person who indulged in drinking, but recent events had rattled him. “She will make a perfect wife.”
“Indeed. The only thing she lacks is a fortune. If she had one, I would have offered for her myself.”
Darcy checked the temptation to lean forward, pull Colonel Fitzwilliam by the cravat, and shake him. How dare he suggest marrying Miss Bennet himself?
“She is not for you.” Darcy snapped the words through a tightened jaw.
“Oh, I know she is not. She is not for you, either.”
Darcy gritted his teeth. “She belongs to no one, if you ask me.”
“Iamasking you, Darcy,” said the colonel, his face suddenly serious. “Are you certain you want to step aside and let her marry Millett?”
“It is not my decision to make,” he answered glumly. “It is up to Miss Bennet. She seems to like him.”
“I see.”
“I wish you would be direct, Richard, and stop making mysterious comments. What is it yousee, exactly?”
“I just want to be sure you know what you’re doing.”
His words were an icy grip that wrapped around his heart and squeezed it painfully.Of course I know what I’m doing, he wanted to answer,I want Miss Bennet to be happy. I want her to find someone who will save her from scandal. If it cannot be me, then I must accept it is Mr. Millett.
“What is it you expect me to do?”
“When you wanted to propose to Miss Bennet, I tried to discourage you. I did not know then you would make such a hash of things and I did not expect that just a few days later, I would be suggesting the opposite.” Colonel Fitzwilliam threw back his head to empty his glass and rose to his feet. “It seems to me, Darcy, that you have some thinking to do.”
As Darcy reached for the brandy decanter, Colonel Fitzwilliam snatched it out of his hand and held it at arm’s length, out of Darcy’s way. When Darcy objected, he gave him the stern look of an officer reprimanding one of his men.
“Leave off the drink, Darcy. You need to keep a clear head. You are running out of time. Miss Bennet is leaving soon. While you sit here and drown your sorrows, you are leaving the field openfor a possible rival. You must decide what you want, before it is too late.”
As the colonel left the room and the door closed behind him, his words echoed in Darcy’s head. What did he really want?
He sat back and went over some of his conversation with Miss Bennet. Recalling some of the things she said made him smile. She tended to do unexpected things, to take him by surprise. He liked that about her.
It occurred to him that he was spending too much time thinking and talking about Miss Bennet. He tried to think about it logically. It was true that there were many traits he admired in Miss Bennet. She was forthright and outspoken. She did not use the usual feminine wiles on him, nor had she ever made any attempt to pursue him. If he had misunderstood her playful manner when they met to suggest she was interested in him, she had made it abundantly clear that it was not the case.
As he dwelled on this, he was struck by a realization. He had always believed in being honest. Now he was facing an unpleasant truth.
For someone who believed in honesty above all else, he had been remarkably deceitful. He had been lying to himself all along.
He was hopelessly in love with Miss Bennet.
