“That was brash,” Fitzwilliam remarked. “Even I would not have given you that assurance on Monday evening. None of us were convinced it was the case.”
“Oh, but she was only making a joke.”
Darcy joined his cousin in looking askance at Georgiana. She blushed deeply, which scarcely surprised him, for his sister had none of the same courage to be impertinent as Elizabeth.
“What did she say?” he mouthed. Only when Fitzwilliam repeated the question aloud did his sister explain.
“Well, she said…pardon me…she said that you like to have your own way rather too well, but that in this case it would prove invaluable, for it was very unlikely that you wished to die, therefore she could not see that you would allow it to happen.”
Fitzwilliam snorted with laughter. “I like her better by the moment.”
So did Darcy.
“Shewasonly joking, though,” Georgiana stammered. “I have made it seem as though she spoke unkindly of you, but that is not true. She spoke very highly of how brave you had been.”
Darcy restrained his response to a raised eyebrow, though his heart leapt like a boy’s at the unexpected praise.
“She said you never complained, despite being in a great deal of pain with no means of relieving it, and that you were concerned for her safety and comfort above your own throughout.”
These words were of greater comfort to Darcy than any pain relief, further swelling his burgeoning hope. He knew enough of Elizabeth’s disposition to be certain that, had she still been convinced he was a selfish and conceited being, she would never have mollified Georgiana with false platitudes such as these. Though he comprehended that it made him appear somewhat ridiculous, he could not resist appealing for more particulars.
Did she say anything else?
“Not that I recall. Her uncle arrived shortly after that to take her away. She did beg me to keep her informed as to your recovery, but it is not a promise I have been able to keep, for nobody knows where her uncle lives.”
Darcy turned to glare at Fitzwilliam.
He splayed his hands and gave a barely contrite shrug. “Prudence demanded we were wary.”
“I wish I could have sent word,” Georgiana said, “for notwithstanding all her attempts to assure me, it was obvious that she was very worried about you. And what with Lady Catherine being uncivil to her, I should imagine she was?—”
Darcy interrupted her with a hand on her arm. “Lady Catherine washere?”
“Pardon?”
He grabbed the paper and impatiently echoed what he had said in a note.
“Everybody was here,” his sister replied.
“Lady Catherine travelled to London as soon as she heard you were missing,” Fitzwilliam informed him. “She has been staying with my mother and father, which has made them twice as anxious as the rest of us to see you expeditiously recovered.”
Darcy ignored him. There was but one person for whose inconvenience at the hands of Lady Catherine he cared.
In what way was she uncivil to Miss Bennet?
Georgiana leant over to read this and then sat up and began wringing her hands. “It was a bit of a misunderstanding, I think. When Miss Bennet’s uncle arrived to collect her, he was quite cross that she had been left to sit in the entrance hall. If he had seen your condition when you arrived moments before, and the commotion in the house, I am sure he would not have been so angry. I certainly did not sit with her there with any design to be insulting; it was just where we ended up after you were taken upstairs.
“I imagine, though, that he has been as worried about his niece as we all were about you, and…well, I can comprehend why he was vexed at the apparent slight. I know you would have been, had it been me. Only Lady Catherine did not take kindly to his manner of speaking to the footman when he expressed his displeasure. I was sent upstairs, and I believe they left directly, but from what I heard, my aunt was not very gracious in her farewell.”
Darcy said nothing. He could scarcely bear to consider the disregard with which his family had treated the woman who saved his life and dared not suppose what effect their behaviour might have had on his already tenuous chances of securing Elizabeth’s affections.
“Darcy, I am heartily sorry that happened,” Fitzwilliam said with more earnestness than any of his previous excuses. “I knew nothing of it until this moment. I would never have been so uncivil?—”
He stopped when Darcy thrust a hastily scrawled note at him.
No, you waited until his next call and then insulted him with the offer of hush money!
Could any more possibly have been done to ensure Elizabeth would never love him? He had to apologise. If she never spoke to him again afterwards, he would have to accept the loss, but he could not rest until she knew how sorry he was. He tossed the pen down and stood up only for the lightheadedness of his last day at the inn to return with a vengeance.
