Amused, Fitzwilliam smiled to himself. Silly, just as Elizabeth had said, but very young. She would grow out of it, just as Georgiana was growing into a sweet young lady. Hopefully, Miss Lydia Bennet would not have the misfortune to encounter any cads like Wickham. At least the Bennet sisters had no dowry to attract the attention of such reprobates, which was quite fortunate, in his opinion. Their beauty alone made them targets. What could Mr Bennet be thinking, allowing a lovely young woman like Lydia Bennet loose in Brighton with only Colonel Forster and his silly young wife for chaperones?
Quietly, Fitzwilliam resolved to keep a weather eye on Lydia Bennet, make sure no undesirables started sniffing around her skirts. While Darcy had left Kent in a foul temper, he had not told his cousin why. Fitzwilliam had added two and two together to make four and surmised that Darcy’s anger was his enforced separation from Elizabeth Bennet. Anything that distressedElizabeth or one of her family would be cause for Darcy’s distress as well, and his cousin had suffered enough in the last year.
“Caught your eye, has she?” a voice said, and he turned to smile at General Lewes.
“I will certainly cede the field to you, sir.”
The general cackled, giving him a knowing look. “Too young for me by about forty years, Fitzwilliam. There’ll be plenty of young and not-so-young bucks sniffing around her skirts, though. Best move quickly if you’ve a genuine interest.”
About to say that he could not afford a wife without a dowry, Fitzwilliam hesitated. Lydia was far too young for him anyway, but Darcy had an interest in this family whether he would admit it or not. Keeping a friendly eye on the girl would hardly be a hardship, but he had no valid reason to do so that would withstand scrutiny unless he joined the ranks of her prospective suitors
. “I don’t like to rush into things,” he said finally.
Lewes humphed, peering at him sharply from those knowing blue eyes, and Fitzwilliam felt briefly like a raw recruit again.
“Well, I don’t doubt your tactical abilities,” Lewes said finally. “Just remember, faint heart never won fair lady.”
He had no intention of actually winning the lady, but he bowed and thanked the general for his sage advice.
“With your permission, sir, I may go and chat to Colonel Forster. Make myself agreeable to the fellow. He’s her guardian while she is here in Brighton, after all.”
“Aha, you have a plan of attack already, I see. Go to it, Fitzwilliam, don’t let me keep you. Lovely girl, but she needs a firm hand on the reins, I suspect, and you’d be just the man to provide it.” General Lewes nodded as though it was already a determined matter, and turned away.
Dismissed, Fitzwilliam glanced around the room. In all honesty, there was nothing else he needed to be doing at the present time; General Hazlett, his own commanding officer, gave him a nod, but was comfortably conversing with Wellington and the Earl of Richmond, so Fitzwilliam was quite at a loose end.
No time like the present,he thought, and set off with a determined step towards Forster, currently filling a plate at the refreshments table.
“Ah, Fitzwilliam,” Forster said pleasantly as he came up beside the older man. “We did not get much chance to talk before, but I wanted to tell you I’ve read all the accounts of your charge at Corunna and I was most impressed. Most impressed, indeed! A valiant effort!”
The blood and dust of the Peninsular War was the last thing Fitzwilliam wanted to talk about, now or ever. Corunna still haunted his nightmares. He nodded in polite thanks and immediately changed the subject, asking Forster about his militia regiment.
Forster was wise enough to happily switch to talking about spending the winter in Hertfordshire and the difficulty of keeping men’s mind on marching and fighting when the comforts of home and England were so close at hand.
Mr Darcy’s cousin was watching her, and Lydia did not understand why. Oh, he was conversing with Colonel Forster pleasantly enough, but she could feel those blue eyes almost burning a hole into her, even when she turned her back on him and chatted with a major who was at least young, though not at all handsome.
A quick glance over her shoulder told her Fitzwilliam was indeed watching her. Whatever could he mean by it? Was he like his cousin, watching only to disapprove? He was smiling, though, most unlike Darcy. Lydia was sure she had never seen a smile cross Darcy’s face at all.
Maybe if Mr Darcy smiled, he’d be as handsome as Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Still, she wasn’t going to waste her own smiles on someone from that family. Darcy was impossibly high in the instep, and Harriet had already whispered excitedly that Fitzwilliam was the second son of an earl! The chances of his being allowed to pay his addresses to the daughter of a country squire were non-existent, and Lydia was not stupid enough to think she might dream so high.
Turning away with a huff, she focussed her attention on the pock-faced major, vowing not to look at Colonel Fitzwilliam’s handsome, smiling visage again.
