“Not long ago. One of the ladies showed me in.”
“That hardly narrows it down, Fitzwilliam.”
“I should say! I understand that there are seven women in this house, and only two men! Well, three men now, assuming you don’t kick me out.”
“I shall let you stay if you promise not to take advantage of that ratio.” Darcy replied drily. “Shall we play?”
As they began the game they made polite overtures to one another. The subjects of health, weather and fashion werequickly exhausted. After that, they moved onto more uneven ground.
Darcy was afraid of making a misstep. He was keen to resume his old friendship with his cousin or at least dispel some of the outright dislike that they had spat at each other in the last few years. He spoke cautiously, making jokes instead of answering seriously, and did everything in his power to make Fitzwilliam feel welcomed. It was a pitiable display; Darcy had not that ease of manner which allowed him to relax into a new role. His instinct was to be forthright, not restrained. He stumbled frequently over his words and fell into several speechless hesitations that did not go unnoticed.
In contrast, Fitzwilliam seemed remarkably self-assured. There were numerous difficult facts which he grasped with such casual ease that Darcy wondered if he somehow already knew them.
Georgiana’s condition, for example, ought to have been the first thing they discussed. It was very odd that Fitzwilliam did not enquire, and when the topic did move in that direction only asked questions about the last few days.
“Do you want to see Georgiana?” Darcy offered. For the first time, a frown crossed his cousin’s face.
“Not right now, Darcy. I am tired from the journey. I have not seen her since…”
Darcy nodded and lowered his eyes for the next shot. There was no need for either of them to say more.
He had sent for Fitzwilliam the day after Georgiana’s ‘accident’. Darcy had waited until the doctor was sure that she would live. He did not want Georgiana’s beloved cousin to rush to her side, only to see her suffer and fade. By the time Fitzwilliam rushed to Pemberley the other side of the coin had made itself clear:Georgiana’s life had ended in all the ways they knew. The broken bird was all that remained.
In a drunken outburst that night, Darcy confessed that real death would have been a mercy.
Fitzwilliam blamed the bottle for that, and for many things which were said in the days which followed. He knew that Darcy did not mean any of his wretched cries. They were torn from his grieving soul, ripping a loving brother into shreds and screaming into a senseless sky. Yes, Fitzwilliam blamed the bottle… at first.
He stayed for nearly a month, processing his own grief in small ways. He spent endless hours holding Georgiana’s hand, even when his eyes were sliding shut with weariness. She must never be alone, he entreated Mrs. Reynolds. She must never think herself unloved. That was the lonely lie which had brought her to this awful fate. She must never, ever feel it again.
Fitzwilliam was recalled while his cousins were still in great need. By then his compassion for Darcy had turned into frustration. He could no longer blame the bottle. Darcychoseto drink from it! Nobody was forcing him to swallow.
The colonel had no option but to go. He knew that he was leaving his dear ward in the care of a drunk.
On the morning when Fitzwilliam left, Darcy came to see him off. It was the first time the man had set foot outside in weeks. He winced and shaded his bloodshot eyes from the dim light.
“Please…” Fitzwilliam tried through gritted teeth, “Please, Darcy, you musttry.”
Darcy looked back with the jet-black eyes of a drowning man. He made no reply.
They parted in silence.
Mrs. Reynolds wrote to the regiment a few weeks later. She thanked Fitzwilliam for all he had done and told him that she had taken it upon herself to ask Mr. Bingley for help. An invitation had immediately come, asking Darcy to join the Bingley family in London. Mrs. Reynolds admitted that she had urged her master to leave Georgiana and go. Pemberley was a crypt, and Darcy was determined to rot in it. For his own good, she insisted to Fitzwilliam, hehadto leave.
Fitzwilliam agreed. He had read between the lines and knew exactly what Mrs. Reynolds was trying to say. The horrible fear that he had felt growing with every passing day in Darcy’s company was one that she shared. Where Georgiana had failed, Darcy would succeed. He no longer valued his own life, and every day tried to escape it a little more. One dark night, after he had made his way to the bottom of a bottle, the master of Pemberley would take up his paper knife and leave it forever.
Then Georgiana would truly be alone.
Mrs. Reynolds’ letter was the last communication Fitzwilliam had from Pemberley for a very long time. He threw himself into his duties with absolute focus, refusing to torture himself by thinking of Darcy. Had his superiors ordered him to go on leave then he would, but all they cared about was the extra responsibilities he eagerly undertook.
He did not want to know. He did not want toknow.
The silence was broken in the winter by Darcy himself. Without providing either context or an apology, he stated his news in a series of emotionless statements. They were as follows: first, that he had stopped drinking and returned to Pemberley to set his affairs in order. Second, that he had married a young lady in Meryton and brought her back to the estate as acompanion to Georgiana. Third, that under her care Georgiana was showing signs of improvement, even though the doctor was not optimistic as to a significant recovery.
Fitzwilliam was incensed. He replied at once and sent the letter without re-reading it. He had not Darcy’s obnoxious ability to write with the emotionless detachment of a stone wall. Rather, he wrote plainly.
First, he said, the assurance of sobriety was as naive as it was premature. He would not congratulate a fool on two minute’s grace after so many months of selfishness.
Second, he pointed out, he could send no good wishes to the new Mrs. Darcy, since the hasty marriage was yet another gesture of Darcy’s selfishness and disrespect for his own family. He might as well have eloped - a drunken, hasty marriage was just as scandalous!
