He began with the Meryton assembly. Then the lip-reading, the recognition that had stopped him cold. He described the moment he understood that Elizabeth Bennet was doing the same thing that his mother had done at some point in her life.
He told him about Lucas Lodge. About how he had discovered that she heard from the left, then about their conversations at Oakham Mount. Finally, he told him how Georgiana had finally opened up to Elizabeth and how he had even left Georgiana in her company when she came to visit Netherfield.
"I had intended to court her," Darcy said at the end of his elaborate explanation. "I told Georgiana as much. I was going to tell Miss Elizabeth what I knew, what I had observed, and let her decide what to do with it." He paused and took a sip of his drink. "And then I rode into Meryton and saw her talking to Wickham and smiling, and everything I had built in the past month came apart in about thirty seconds."
"And now?" Fitzwilliam asked.
"Now I do not know." Darcy looked at the window. "Two days of thinking about it have reduced the certainty I had on Tuesday morning. But I cannot dismiss what I saw."
"Or," Fitzwilliam said, "it is a coincidence. And you are so accustomed to Wickham's machinations that you are seeing them where they do not exist."
Darcy shook his head in disagreement, though he realised there was sense in what his cousin had said. He had thought so himself that morning too, but dismissed it.
"You have spent fifteen years watching that man destroy things," Fitzwilliam said. "And with what he did last summer, it would be entirely understandable if you could no longer tell the difference between a genuine threat and your own fear." He leaned forward slightly. "But I will say this. I have never once heard you speak of a woman the way you just spoke of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. And I have known you a very long time."
The room was quiet. Outside, the kitchen garden was bare.
"What would you have me do?" Darcy said at last.
"I would have you think very carefully," Fitzwilliam said, "before you throw away something real because of a man who is now sitting in a debtor's prison and can do no further damage to anyone."
He rose, straightened his coat, and moved toward the door.
"Wickham is gone, Darcy," he said. "The question is whether you are going to let him take something else from you on his way out."
Without waiting for a response, he left.
Darcy sat alone in the quiet parlour for a long time after that.
˜ ˜ ˜
Caroline had not been looking for anything in particular when she passed the small parlour at the end of the east corridor.
She had merely been walking, as one did in a house that had become exceedingly dull, when the sound of Darcy's voice reached her ears, followed by that of his cousin. Someone had closed the parlour door without fastening it properly, leaving it slightly ajar and allowing their conversation to carry into the corridor.
Caroline stopped at once and moved quietly towards the opening.
For the better part of two days, the two gentlemen had been behaving mysteriously, Darcy in particular. Georgiana had notbeen in the best of spirits either. Something was clearly amiss, and if a little eavesdropping provided the answer, Caroline saw no reason to object.
"Tell me how you met her." Colonel Fitzwilliam's voice carried clearly through the gap.
Her?
Caroline frowned.
So, it was about a woman. What woman had Mr. Darcy met that had occupied his thoughts so thoroughly?
Then Darcy began to speak.
His voice was low and measured. He started with the Meryton assembly.
By the time he mentioned Bingley directing his attention towards a particular lady, Caroline's eyes had widened considerably.
Miss Eliza?
She scarcely needed to hear more before realising that the entire conversation concerned Elizabeth Bennet.
She listened.
