He traced a finger over one of the tiny stones but still did not speak. “You are silent, I see. I thought the smooth grain and rich shade would be to your liking. Even if it is not, you could pretend that you like them for my sake, like any good husband ought to do.”
“Elizabeth, I cannot remember the last time anyone gave me…how did you even guess my favourite colour?” His astonishment was obvious.
“That was perfectly simple: you prefer a green cutaway coat when you ride, and many of your waistcoats have a green stripe, brocade, or pattern. And when your carriage returned me to the Gardiners’ after I called on Georgiana, I noticed you chose as much green wool and silk upholstery trim as good taste would allow.”
He was struggling for the appearance of composure, and rather than speak, he clasped her around the neck and pulled her closer to give her a fierce kiss. She laughed against his lips. “I assume you like them?”
“Very much.” Fitzwilliam removed the sleeve buttons that held his shirt cuff closed and pressed the new moss agate ones into place. “They are handsome, but I like them more because you thought to give them to me. Thank you.”
Elizabeth was pleased to see his delighted countenance and how he admired the glint of the small green stones on his cuffs before her spirits turned low.
“What is the matter, my dear?”
“Jane had my aunt bring a pair of sleeve buttons for Bingley,” she said quietly. As much as she wanted to enjoy being entirely alone with Fitzwilliam, they could not help but speak about Jane and Bingley. “She never had the chance to give them to him.”
Fitzwilliam sighed sadly. “I do not have the words to express my regrets at the loss of their relationship. Shamefully, Bingley is already looking forward to the distraction of sport and the Season to help him to forget Jane.”
“All Jane has to look forward to now is my mother’s constant reminder that she lost a man worth four thousand a year.”
“Jane might sink into melancholy should she remain at home, but what will you do while I am gone?”
“Comfort Jane, listen to my mother’s complaints and my father’s rebukes, and all the while be spurned by my neighbours. You too would suffer under such stagnation. All I can do is sit by the windows and pine for you.”
“Fear not—we will soon be married, and I promise to put your talents to use at Pemberley. You have proven yourself to be an adept steward. If that does not occupy your time, then shall I dismiss the housekeeper so you might take over her role as well? Perhaps you would also like to be my secretary?” His eyes crinkled with good humour.
“You do well to tease me out of my depressed state,” she retorted. “It shows that your sense of humour is improved.” She leant her head against Fitzwilliam’s shoulder. She felt his quiet rumble of laughter and allowed herself a smile. “In a very short time, you have become necessary to my ultimate comfort.”
“As have you to mine.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “As landlord, master, and guardian, I have been unaccustomed to sharing my thoughts with anyone. I am private by nature. Having you to confide in, a wife to love me, I must admit that these are things I did not know I needed until I found you, dearest, most beloved Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth considered her own feelings of isolation amidst a household who did not understand her, and she realised that Fitzwilliam might have endured some of the same. To be a young man with so much obligation binding him and duty to uphold must have been isolating. Perhaps there had been an emptiness in his life, too.
“Where have you gone?”
Elizabeth’s eyes refocused on his. “Do you know that you are a good man? You bear so well the many duties before you.” She shifted her position on his lap to look directly into his face. “It must be lonesome.”
He shut his eyes, almost as if he were in pain. She wondered whether she had insulted his masculinity, that a man of his rank and position would not consider such a thing as being alone. Fitzwilliam steadied himself before he opened his eyes to look at her with that now-familiar sincere and unwavering gaze. “Perhaps it was,” he breathed, “but it is not any longer.”
“Your countenance informs me you are thinking of the person whom you think the most agreeable in the world, the person who interests you more than all the rest of the world put together,” Jane said wistfully.
A blush overspread Elizabeth’s cheeks; she could say nothing in her defence. Her purpose in staying at Longbourn had been for the sake of her sister’s spirits, and all Elizabeth could do was complain about her isolation and reminisce about the man who loved her. Elizabeth was ashamed and resolved to be a better companion to her sister.
* * *
Darcy pacedhis library like a caged animal on Monday. By the time Fitzwilliam was shown in, he was certain he had worn an irreparable path in the carpet. His cousin entered with his mouth set in a grim line. When Darcy snatched Saturday’s newspaper from the table, the colonel shook his head while he threw himself into a chair.
“I know—I have heard all about it.”
Darcy sat across from his cousin. “How did this happen? How did George Wickham ally himself with a titled family?”
“The very nearly only surviving member of that family, no less.”
“Do you know her?” he asked, surprised.
“No, but it is all over town. I know you loathe gossip, but you really ought to better acquaint yourself with what is being spoken of. I have just come from my mother’s morning at home, and all the ladies are discussing it.”
Darcy felt his patience slipping away. Fitzwilliam must have sensed it as well and explained the latest scandal to overtake the drawing rooms and clubs of London. “Cathy Hareton is to inherit an unimaginable fortune when her uncle, Lord Hindley, dies. There is no other family, so his title will become extinct, but the lady will be a wealthy woman. My mother says it must be above fifty thousand pounds.”
“That explains Wickham’s interest in her as he always hoped to make his fortune through marriage. But it does not explain why Lord Hindley would allow his ward to marry that reprobate.”
