"Robert sent a messenger to the barracks," Richard explained, plopping to a chair and stretching out his long legs. "Said it was a medical emergency. Said you were suffering from a fatal case of... what was it? 'Fine Eyes'?" He grinned. "I assumed he was speaking in code about the Ramsgate business.I thought you were brooding about Wickham again. Are you? Because I can bring out the brandy."
"It is not Wickham," Robert crowed, pouring a drink from the decanter on the sideboard without asking. "Better, Richard. Much better. Our dear, stoic, stone-faced cousin has fallen in love."
Richard froze. He looked at Darcy, then at Robert, then back at Darcy. "You're joking. Darcy? In love? With a human woman?"
"I am not in love," Darcy protested, pushing Fletcher's hands away. "I am... intrigued. Mildly."
"He was hugging a romance novel in Hatchards," Robert informed the Colonel. "And then we ran into her. And her sister. Richard, you should have seen the sister. A goddess. A blonde angel sent to earth to test my resolve."
Richard sat up, his interest piqued. "Wait. You met them? Today?"
"Outside the bookshop," Robert confirmed. "The Goddess tripped—literally fell for me—and the She-Dragon stood there glaring at Darcy like he was a stain on the pavement. It was magnificent."
"She-Dragon?" Richard laughed. "Darcy, who is this woman who glares at you? Usually, they are trying to marry you."
"She is Miss Elizabeth Bennet," Darcy said through gritted teeth. "From Hertfordshire. And she does not wish to marry me. She finds me insufferable. At best."
Richard threw his head back and roared with laughter. "Insufferable! Oh, this is rich. And you like her? You actually like awoman who hates you?"
"I admire her intellect," Darcy lied.
"He admires her eyes," Robert corrected. "And her impertinence. She practically flayed him alive on the pavement, and he looked like he wanted to thank her for it."
Darcy groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Can we please go to dinner? I would prefer to be tortured by my uncle than by you two."
The carriage ride to Matlock House was a study in claustrophobia. Darcy sat next to his sister, pressed against the window, and trying to merge with the squabs. His cousins took up the rest of the space, radiating boisterous energy.
"So," Richard said, rubbing his hands together. "Details. I need details. Who are they? Who is the father? Is there a fortune?"
"The father is a gentleman," Darcy said quickly. "Mr Bennet. Of Longbourn. The estate is entailed."
"So, no money," Richard summarized. "That's fine. You have enough for both of you. And connections?"
Darcy hesitated. This was the part that usually made him shudder. "The mother lacks propriety. There are three younger sisters who are wild."
"And?" Robert prompted. "The uncle?"
Darcy closed his eyes. "Mr Gardiner."
"And his profession?" Richard asked.
"He is in trade," Darcy whispered. "He lives in Gracechurch Street. Cheapside."
Silence filled the carriage. For a moment, the only sound was the rattle of wheels on cobblestones.
Then Richard snorted. "Cheapside? Darcy, you are pining for a girl who stays in Cheapside? Do they even have air there, or just coal dust?"
"The air is perfectly breathable," Robert interjected, surprisingly defensive. "I found it quite invigorating when we discussed it today. Not that I have ever ventured there, but still. And frankly, Richard, when you see Miss Bennet—the elder one—you will not care if she lives in a coal scuttle. She transcends geography."
"You are smitten," Richard observed, looking at his brother with amusement. "I haven't seen you this worked up since that Italian soprano."
"This is different," Robert said seriously. "The soprano was a diversion. This Miss Bennet, she has a dignity about her. And she fell into my arms. It is fate."
"And the She-Dragon?" Richard asked Darcy. "Is she fate too?"
"She is a punishment," Darcy muttered. "For every sin of pride I have ever committed. She looked at me today as if I were responsible for every tragedy in history."
"Why?"
