Third, Fitzwilliam wrote, he was delighted to hear of Georgiana’s improving health. He could not help pointing out that if a stranger had made such a difference in a few short weeks, then a brother could have done far more in a wasted year.
An angry letter, indeed! Fitzwilliam regretted much of it, but by then it had already left his hands.
Darcy, understandably, did not reply. Silence resumed.
The sight of his cousin in Chesterfield was a shock. Fitzwilliam could scarcely believe that the composed, healthy man he spotted was really Darcy. He had assumed that he would forever be sallow, hunched and unkempt. This man was none of those things. He was truly the master of Pemberley - at least, in appearance.
The lady on his arm was just as surprising. It was not her considerable beauty which made Fitzwilliam stare, butsomething rather cruder. He had assumed, from his knowledge of Darcy’s drunken proclivities and the unusually hasty wedding, that Mrs. Darcy would be in a certain… condition. Fitzwilliam had imagined her as an opportunist, taking advantage of a drunken fool to get her hands on his fortune.
The woman at Darcy’s side did not look like a fortune hunter. Her clothes were undeniably lovely, but they were understated instead of ostentatious. She wore only simple jewels, even though she rightly had access to Lady Anne’s priceless collection. Mrs. Darcy even fidgeted with her gown as if she was not accustomed to wearing such finery. This was not the look of a woman who would throw away her chastity for money!
It was not her appearance, though, which convinced Fitzwilliam that he was wrong. It was the look on Darcy’s face when he spoke to his wife and the gentle way that she smiled back. They clearly adored each other - a rare sight, indeed, betweenanycouples in the room. Fitzwilliam was very familiar with Darcy’s pride and knew that if he had been coerced into the marriage in any way at all, he would not even look this woman in the eye.
Fitzwilliam found himself watching the Darcys all evening. He utterly neglected the beautifully buxom lady whom he had intended to spend the night seducing. Instead, he watched his cousin and his wife with blatant fascination.
Mrs. Darcy noticed him - he could see her glancing curiously at him as time passed - but his cousin was mercifully oblivious. Fitzwilliam wondered if he had chosen an unremarkable coat for the ball, for he felt utterly invisible. He could not even blame a bottle for Darcy’s blindness. He was pleased to see his cousin wave away every drink the servants offered.
Finally, their eyes had met.
Fitzwilliam’s words shrivelled on his tongue. He could not speak, only glare and then flee.
The letter arrived the next day, addressed correctly in a stranger’s hand. It was short, humble, and charming.
So, Fitzwilliam replied to Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy with his very best wishes and ignored the clear suggestion that he speak to her husband. It might have ended there, but Mrs. Darcy did not seem to be the sort of woman who would let things lie. She was shockingly forthright, writing with the humorous blunt tone of a nursemaid threatening unruly children.
Yes, the cousins had disagreed. Yes, they were quite right to be upset. But that was over now, and they must move on. For the good of their families, their friendship and their dearest Georgiana, theymustreconcile.
Mrs. Darcy was determined. After weeks of constant exchanges, where they entered into a teasing riposte which she always seemed to win, Fitzwilliam finally surrendered.
Now, looking at his cousin lining up a shot on the billiards table, Fitzwilliam’s nerve was failing. He wondered if he could still beat Darcy in a fight. The urge to box the man’s ears was even stronger than usual.
“You do not want to see Georgiana.” Darcy summarised wryly, “Well then. Will you say your piece now, Fitzwilliam, or is that something else that can wait until morning?”
“Do you have anything to say tome?”
“Perhaps. ButIdid not come toyourhouse. You can go first.”
“How magnanimous.”
“Get on with it,” Darcy growled, “Or leave.”
Fitzwilliam pulled a face. Then, with both men refusing to give an inch, the most awkward reconciliation since Joseph’s eleven brothers came to Egypt began.
Chapter 51
“Madam, I would speak to you.”
Darcy did not even acknowledge the other people in the room, only pushed the door open and snapped at his wife. He did hold the door open for her to walk through, but it was clearly not out of courtesy. He watched her impatiently, like a vulture waiting for its supper to stop twitching.
Elizabeth did not meet her sisters’ eyes as she left. She could guess at their expressions and had no desire to see if she was right.
The younger girls were still intimidated by Darcy. That was understandable, for he was quiet, intense, and gave the impression of looming over them due to his height. He had no patience for any foolish behaviour and had temporarily classed the trio into a single entity which he tolerated, but did not really try to engage with. Elizabeth could not blame her younger sisters for being intimidated by that. They had rarely been around a man who so efficiently put them in their place.
Jane’s opinion was the one that stung. She had spent a great deal of time with Mr. Darcy, and he had been both patient and kind to her. They knew of each other’s problems and had spent many evenings in pleasant conversation. To find out that Jane had abad opinion about him was shocking, and this wasfarbeyond a minor complaint. Lizzie was horrified to discover how easily Jane had painted Darcy into the role of a ravager. The realisation that she thought Mr. Darcy’s compassion and patience were a mere mask for a depraved monster was utterly abhorrent.
Elizabeth struggled to forgive her sister for even having the idea in her head, much less speaking of it aloud. It was only the sure knowledge that Jane had acted out of love which comforted her. Naturally, she had not breathed a word about it to Mr. Darcy himself. She could not imagine how injured he would be to hear Jane’s thoughts.
Darcy was pale with anger as he led her through the house. Elizabeth wondered if he had heard Jane’s accusations after all. Then she mentally shook her head. It could not be that; they had spoken several days ago, and Darcy was not the type to mull over an issue that infuriated him. There was an immediacy to his anger. It was his resentment that lingered.
