London Intrigues
Part 15: A bit of correspondence
Letter from Fitzwilliam Darcy to Colonel Fitzwilliam:
September 12, 18--
PemberleyDear Fitz,
You had asked for every detail of my return to Derbyshire, but I believe I can spare the telling of the dust on the road and what I ate for luncheon on the way, although you might be amused if I tell you about the peculiar facial characteristics of the publican who served the meal -- there must be an interesting story to explain why he has only one eyebrow, which I did not have time to hear. It shall suffice to say that I arrived at Pemberley with very little trouble.
I also felt you could be spared an accounting of most of my activities in the week since my return, since I doubt you have much interest in my conferences with my steward or my housekeeper. The former tells me that my tenants are well on their way to a good harvest, and the latter tells me that one of my guests seemed determined to entirely deplete the contents of my wine cellar during my absence.
You will therefore forgive me if I pass over such inconsequential matters and proceed directly to the more important tasks you set for me. My first mission was to deliver your love and compliments to my sister Georgiana, and this action has been honorably completed. My sister returns the sentiments in full and desires me to ask if you still wear the sash she made for you with your dress uniform.
My second mission will now receive my entire attention. You will be greatly surprised to know that I have discovered an unexpected ally in my effort to convince Bingley to return to Hertfordshire. Who is this mysterious fellow, you ask? None other than Bingley's brother-in-law, Mr. Franklin Hurst! During my time in town, Mr. Hurst so far failed to amuse himself with any outdoor sport that he was reduced to taking the advice of Wallace, my groundskeeper -- which meant he attempted course fishing in the stream that runs along the estate's southern boundary. Wallace gave me a rather colorful report describing how frustrated Mr. Hurst became with lines that tangled and hooks that stung his fingers. Nowhere could the poor fellow find a satisfactory answer to his query regarding other outdoor activities in the area -- the neighbors have been telling their usual horror stories about how few quail and grouse the shooting season brings to the county. I could not undeceive Mr. Hurst, since those stories make up the residents' silent conspiracy to keep all the best hunting for themselves, to the consternation of visitors hardy enough to come so far north so late in the year. Instead, I could only nod in solemn agreement -- I think you would have admired my air of slightly distressed commiseration -- and say that hunting was sure to be better in some county to the south. And there it was: over supper that evening, Mr. Hurst was already asking Bingley whether we gentlemen could make up a shooting party at "that demmed fine manor, what?" in Hertfordshire.
Bingley, as eager as ever to please his relations, looked in my direction for approval (and at the moment I can think of only one other person whose glance could be so painful to endure -- really, I have done Bingley a severe injustice in leading him to doubt his own judgment so thoroughly); and apparently finding what he sought in my countenance, Bingley endorsed his brother-in-law's suggestion with the greatest goodwill. He declared that he would start planning for the visit immediately, and he has been as good as his word. At this moment he is upstairs in his chamber, composing letters to his butler and housekeeper at Netherfield, directing how they shall prepare for our arrival.
Only two people are somewhat disconsolate at the thought that the gentlemen shall be leaving so soon: my sister Georgiana and Miss Caroline Bingley. Miss Bingley must rely on her London acquaintance for solace, since she has expressed too pointed a dislike of shooting for her to even feign interest in our visit to Hertfordshire. Georgiana will have Mrs. Annesley for company while I am away, and I have assured her I will write often. In fact, with my strict promises to write to her and to you, it will be a wonder if I have time to complete the remainder of my important task in Hertfordshire!
I shall diligently continue the reports of my progress from Netherfield. Until then, I remain,
Your dutiful cousin,
Fitzwilliam Darcy
Letter from Colonel Fitzwilliam to Fitzwilliam Darcy:
September 18, 18--
LondonDear Fitz:
The mail coaches carrying our letters will likely pass each other on the road between London and Netherfield, but I had to reply as soon as I could. The incomprehensibility of your last letter (received this very morning) has me somewhat worried about your health. Are you quite well, to be blathering on about the state of Mr. Bingley's library, and the pleasing arrangements of shrubbery on the Netherfield grounds?
Your postscript provided the only hint of illumination -- I take it you are to pay a call at the Bennet household tomorrow. Best wishes for success from
Your concerned cousin,
Edward Fitzwilliam
Letter from Colonel Fitzwilliam to Fitzwilliam Darcy:
September 20, 18--
LondonDear Fitz:
You are not kind to keep me in such suspense. After all, you promised to report every particular of your time in Hertfordshire! I shall only forgive you if I receive an express saying you are going to be Mr. Bingley's groomsman.
Your agitated cousin,
Edward Fitzwilliam
Letter from Fitzwilliam Darcy to Colonel Fitzwilliam:
September 23, 18--
Netherfield
Dear Fitz,
I could not help but laugh at the tone of your last letter. If I had delayed writing, would you have appeared at Netherfield to wring a detailed account of the past few days out of me? You must control your curiosity for only a little longer. I will be in London tomorrow, and if you can arrange to join me for dinner, I promise I will tell you everything.
Your cousin,
Fitzwilliam Darcy
P. S. Bingley has not asked me to be his groomsman yet, but I have hope that I shall hear the question before too long.
F. D.
Letter from Fitzwilliam Darcy to Colonel Fitzwilliam:
Dear Fitz,
You had asked for every detail of my return to Derbyshire, but I believe I can spare the telling of the dust on the road and what I ate for luncheon on the way, although you might be amused if I tell you about the peculiar facial characteristics of the publican who served the meal -- there must be an interesting story to explain why he has only one eyebrow, which I did not have time to hear. It shall suffice to say that I arrived at Pemberley with very little trouble.
I also felt you could be spared an accounting of most of my activities in the week since my return, since I doubt you have much interest in my conferences with my steward or my housekeeper. The former tells me that my tenants are well on their way to a good harvest, and the latter tells me that one of my guests seemed determined to entirely deplete the contents of my wine cellar during my absence.
You will therefore forgive me if I pass over such inconsequential matters and proceed directly to the more important tasks you set for me. My first mission was to deliver your love and compliments to my sister Georgiana, and this action has been honorably completed. My sister returns the sentiments in full and desires me to ask if you still wear the sash she made for you with your dress uniform.
My second mission will now receive my entire attention. You will be greatly surprised to know that I have discovered an unexpected ally in my effort to convince Bingley to return to Hertfordshire. Who is this mysterious fellow, you ask? None other than Bingley's brother-in-law, Mr. Franklin Hurst! During my time in town, Mr. Hurst so far failed to amuse himself with any outdoor sport that he was reduced to taking the advice of Wallace, my groundskeeper -- which meant he attempted course fishing in the stream that runs along the estate's southern boundary. Wallace gave me a rather colorful report describing how frustrated Mr. Hurst became with lines that tangled and hooks that stung his fingers. Nowhere could the poor fellow find a satisfactory answer to his query regarding other outdoor activities in the area -- the neighbors have been telling their usual horror stories about how few quail and grouse the shooting season brings to the county. I could not undeceive Mr. Hurst, since those stories make up the residents' silent conspiracy to keep all the best hunting for themselves, to the consternation of visitors hardy enough to come so far north so late in the year. Instead, I could only nod in solemn agreement -- I think you would have admired my air of slightly distressed commiseration -- and say that hunting was sure to be better in some county to the south. And there it was: over supper that evening, Mr. Hurst was already asking Bingley whether we gentlemen could make up a shooting party at "that demmed fine manor, what?" in Hertfordshire.
Bingley, as eager as ever to please his relations, looked in my direction for approval (and at the moment I can think of only one other person whose glance could be so painful to endure -- really, I have done Bingley a severe injustice in leading him to doubt his own judgment so thoroughly); and apparently finding what he sought in my countenance, Bingley endorsed his brother-in-law's suggestion with the greatest goodwill. He declared that he would start planning for the visit immediately, and he has been as good as his word. At this moment he is upstairs in his chamber, composing letters to his butler and housekeeper at Netherfield, directing how they shall prepare for our arrival.
Only two people are somewhat disconsolate at the thought that the gentlemen shall be leaving so soon: my sister Georgiana and Miss Caroline Bingley. Miss Bingley must rely on her London acquaintance for solace, since she has expressed too pointed a dislike of shooting for her to even feign interest in our visit to Hertfordshire. Georgiana will have Mrs. Annesley for company while I am away, and I have assured her I will write often. In fact, with my strict promises to write to her and to you, it will be a wonder if I have time to complete the remainder of my important task in Hertfordshire!
I shall diligently continue the reports of my progress from Netherfield. Until then, I remain,
Your dutiful cousin,
Letter from Colonel Fitzwilliam to Fitzwilliam Darcy:
Dear Fitz:
The mail coaches carrying our letters will likely pass each other on the road between London and Netherfield, but I had to reply as soon as I could. The incomprehensibility of your last letter (received this very morning) has me somewhat worried about your health. Are you quite well, to be blathering on about the state of Mr. Bingley's library, and the pleasing arrangements of shrubbery on the Netherfield grounds?
Your postscript provided the only hint of illumination -- I take it you are to pay a call at the Bennet household tomorrow. Best wishes for success from
Your concerned cousin,
Letter from Colonel Fitzwilliam to Fitzwilliam Darcy:
Dear Fitz:
You are not kind to keep me in such suspense. After all, you promised to report every particular of your time in Hertfordshire! I shall only forgive you if I receive an express saying you are going to be Mr. Bingley's groomsman.
Your agitated cousin,
September 23, 18--
Dear Fitz,
I could not help but laugh at the tone of your last letter. If I had delayed writing, would you have appeared at Netherfield to wring a detailed account of the past few days out of me? You must control your curiosity for only a little longer. I will be in London tomorrow, and if you can arrange to join me for dinner, I promise I will tell you everything.
Your cousin,
P. S. Bingley has not asked me to be his groomsman yet, but I have hope that I shall hear the question before too long.
F. D. "And then what did you do?"
Colonel Fitzwilliam leaned forward over his plate, his knife and fork momentarily forgotten in his hands, as he waited to hear his cousin's answer. Roast lamb with mint -- even prepared as excellently as Darcy's cook could make it -- was of no importance compared with this.
"Nothing," Darcy answered.
"What do you mean, nothing?"
"I made some short reply, such as, 'No, Mrs. Annesley is with her,' and must needs sit down again."
"Without saying anything else? Without telling Miss Bennet how glad you were that she and my cousin Georgiana had become acquainted? Without a single suggestion that you would like to see the acquaintance continue? Fitz, you are impossible!" Fitzwilliam sat back in his chair with a thump and glowered at his cousin across the soup tureen. "Such a perfect opportunity, and it passed you by!"
Darcy smiled. "What would you have had me do? Drop to my knees and propose to Miss Bennet, there in the middle of the drawing room, with all of her family watching?"
"Why not, if you love her as much as you tell me you do? At least her father would have been immediately available to give his permission."
"Now it is you who are impossible. My purpose in joining Bingley in that visit to Longbourn was not to further my own suit; it was to determine whether I had erred when I removed him from Hertfordshire last winter."
"And had you?"
"Greatly," Darcy replied, a sudden somberness in his tone.
Fitzwilliam was impressed. It was the first time in years that he had heard his cousin actually admit to making a mistake. Of course, Darcy had spoken of the possibility of his error for some months, but it had always been with a tiny lingering hope that he might have been right. If Miss Jane Bennet had not truly loved Mr. Charles Bingley, then Darcy would not have made a mistaken judgment, and he would have one less instance of his poor behavior during his previous visit to Hertfordshire with which to reproach himself. However, as so much reproaching was doing his cousin's character a wealth of good, considering he was less reserved and more mannerly of late, a little more must only continue the improvement -- or so Fitzwilliam thought, half grinning to himself.
Darcy was silent for the remainder of the meal, either turning his entire attention to the delicacies his cook had created, or contemplating once again the magnitude of his mistake. It was not until the gentlemen were sitting in the library with their glasses of port that he described for his cousin the visit to Longbourn.
"As on our visits there last winter, the eldest Miss Bennet was silent more often than not. However, her tone when she did speak was warmer towards Bingley than it was towards any other person in the room, and her eyes were more expressive still. How could I have missed it before?"
The question was probably meant to be rhetorical, but Fitzwilliam answered anyway. "Perhaps during your previous time in that county your thoughts were more occupied with the 'fine eyes' of a different member of the family."
Darcy shook his head, refusing to let himself be distracted by thoughts of the second Bennet sister. "No, I believe a more truthful explanation is that I would not allow myself to understand her looks. I thought then that Miss Bennet was like all other country girls -- of pleasing appearance, but of coarse breeding and worse temperament, and whose only interest in my friend must be his income. Despite having frequent evidence of her many excellent qualities, I would not let myself believe otherwise than that she was unworthy of Bingley's regard, because she had not been raised in town or on a fine estate, and because I was put off by the behavior of some of her relations." He sounded utterly disgusted with his former behavior and consoled himself with a sip of his wine.
"Enough of your dejection!" Fitzwilliam cried, seeing that his cousin was still likely to brood over past events. "You have sincerely mended your ways since then, and it is apparent you have also changed your opinion of Miss Bennet. Is she not now to be considered a good match for your friend?"
"She always was," Darcy answered. "Bingley could not find a lady who suited him better if he were to search the length and breadth of England."
"Only England? So alas for the poor maiden in Ireland or the Indies who would be an even better partner for him!" Fitzwilliam pantomimed a heartfelt swoon which any of Mrs. Radcliffe's heroines would have been proud to claim.
"You are pleased to be merry this evening, I see," Darcy commented, with a wry smile for his cousin's joke.
"Of course! Why should I not?" Fitzwilliam took a seat next to his cousin, serious once more. "I have cause to celebrate in your improved nature. Darcy, I am more proud of you for this revolution in your character than for any other achievement you have made in your eight-and-twenty years. You have finally learnt to value your fellow human beings for more than their rank, wealth, or consequence. It should have been an easy lesson -- understanding that if you treat those around you with respect and consideration, no matter their upbringing, then that is what you will receive in return -- but I thought it should never penetrate that thick stubborn skull of yours!"
Darcy flushed, pleased by his cousin's praise. "Now it is lodged there, and I hope I may never lose it."
"Certainly not, especially since you will have me to badger you about it always, should you ever threaten to revert to your former state." Fitzwilliam clapped his cousin on the shoulder and then stood again, walking towards the fireplace while he took another drink of his port. "Now, tell me how Bingley reacted when you told him how your opinions had changed."
Darcy shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, although it was an excellently padded piece of furniture. That memory was not a pleasant one, but he had only himself to blame for making the confession necessary. Had the conversation only occurred the previous day? Darcy felt he would remember it all his life.
"A very good morning to you, Darcy! You see I am awake and about in plenty of time to wish you a pleasant journey, although I confess I should have been up early in any case. I have been invited to breakfast at Longbourn this morning -- and I am sure you would also be welcome, if you cared to delay your departure by a few hours."
"I thank you, but I must decline. In any case, I dare say the Bennets are more eagerly anticipating your presence than mine," Darcy answered, wondering if Bingley were always this cheerful in the morning, or if it was only something particular which he meant to do today which had caused his spirits to soar. He imagined he knew just what special mission Bingley had given himself, since it must concern a certain golden-haired resident of Longbourn.
"Well, another time, then. After you return from London, perhaps?"
"Perhaps. I will make no fixed engagements at present, since I am not quite sure how long my business will detain me." Darcy strode across the yard to the stable, checking that his trunk was firmly strapped on the back of the coach and that the grooms were harnessing the horses properly. His coachman stood off to one side, wrapped in a thick greatcoat against the morning chill, and also keeping a sharp eye on the preparations.
Bingley followed, his bootheels ringing loudly on the pavement. "How can you bear to go to London again so soon? We have only just arrived! At this time of year, the country is ever so much more pleasant. Consider how dull our last winter in town was, and you will soon change your mind."
Darcy sighed. He had been dreading this entire conversation, but he could not in honor and honesty avoid it. If he was ever to speak, it must be now. He only hoped his friend would forgive him. "Bingley, about the time we spent in London..."
"Awful, wasn't it? I was afraid I should learn to yawn as often and as enormously as my brother-in-law Hurst, since there was hardly a dinner or a dance worth attending. I declare, in all those months, I never met a single lady who could compare to...that is..." His voice trailed off, and he looked rather self-consciously as Darcy, who kindly finished the sentence for him.
"Not a single lady who could compare to Miss Jane Bennet." Darcy's effort was well rewarded by the light that awoke in Bingley's face, but he held up a hand to keep his friend silent, feeling that he must make his confession without interruption. "Bingley, Miss Bennet is indeed an excellent creature, and I apologize for not admitting it before now. No, hold your peace a little longer -- I have an even larger apology to make, which you must hear."
Bingley nodded, somewhat uncertain and apprehensive about what Darcy might have to say.
"Last November your sisters and I did our utmost to persuade you that Miss Bennet did not care for you, and once you had unwillingly allowed yourself to be convinced, we also persuaded you to remain in town much longer than you would have liked. I was certain that the separation would entirely dissipate any slight feelings Miss Bennet had, and I hoped that in time you would also forget her. My first mistake was refusing to recognize how true was your love for her and how constant it would be, even after we took you away from Hertfordshire.
"I cannot speak for your sisters, but for my second mistake I completely misjudged the strength of Miss Bennet's affection. I began to suspect my error when Miss Bennet visited your sisters this winter, but I would not admit it completely, and therefore I helped them conceal her presence from you. Your sister paid a return visit some weeks later, of which we also kept you in ignorance, and these two subterfuges were my greatest mistakes. I had no right to interfere, and I am most heartily sorry for it, especially since I am now as convinced of her love for you as I was before of her indifference. Can you forgive me?"
Although he was now at liberty to speak, Bingley did not. He was unwilling to believe that he had been the victim of so much deception and manipulation, not only from his sisters, but at the hands of his most trusted friend! Anger would be an understandable emotion to feel at this moment, but instead he only felt confusion. "Darcy, why would you do this?"
Slowly, intensely conscious of the pain he was giving his friend, Darcy answered, "From my own observations -- which were superficial compared to yours, I admit -- I believed that Miss Bennet held no strong feelings for you beyond the amusement of a casual flirtation which she would forget as soon as you left the neighborhood. Since I saw that your affection for her surpassed anything I had ever seen you display for any other lady, I thought I was taking the right course to keep your heart from being wounded. Instead I was the one who inflicted pain. Again, I am sorry."
There were still no words from Bingley, which was enough to make Darcy nervous -- it was entirely unlike his gregarious friend to say nothing for such a long period. Darcy longed for something to end the uncomfortable silence -- a horse stamping a hoof on the stones, his groom alerting him that the coach was ready, anything! Bingley's countenance gave nothing away, with no sign of whether he felt hurt, or anger, both of which were feelings which would be completely justifiable, foreign as they were to Bingley's usual temperament.
Bingley looked up from his contemplation of the toes of his boots, and Darcy saw that his eyes showed a deep gravity instead of their customary humor. "You were very wrong, Darcy. I thought you were my friend, not my nursemaid. If my heart had been in any danger, I should have been allowed to take the risk. I am no longer a child, and I understand that matters of the heart do not always run as smoothly as we would wish. When I confided my feelings for Miss Bennet to you last winter, I thought you would be happy for me and, as my friend, do everything in your power to help me find my own happiness. I did not expect that you would become one of the obstacles in my path to that goal."
Darcy felt the reproof all the more strongly because it was delivered in such a mild tone, from a man who almost never dared criticize him. "I should have trusted you to know your own heart and mind in this matter, and I did not. My arrogance and presumption to think I was protecting you from yourself were unpardonable. Bingley, I am at your mercy, for I will accept any punishment you choose to give me. Shall I not return after I leave here? Say the word and I will have my trunks sent after me."
A glimmer of a smile lightened the grimness of Bingley's face. "Don't be daft, man. While you were most certainly in the wrong, I can appreciate that you did these things out of friendship for me -- misguided, but friendship none the less. And you are not quite the man that you were then, are you? Even I can see you've changed, and this new Darcy is someone I should not like to part with. Say you will shake hands, and I will forgive you."
Darcy took the hand that Bingley offered, really smiling at last. "Can you truly forgive me? I can hardly believe it, even of a man with your excellent character."
Bingley laughed, but did his best to look stern. "Well, my pardon does have one or two conditions attached."
"Name them."
"First, will you join me to declare that Jane Bennet is an absolute angel?"
"Lacking only the halo," Darcy answered. "What next?"
"Second, do you agree that there is no lady who can match Miss Bennet in sweetness of temper, or in beauty?"
"She is a paragon among women, truly. Anything else?"
Bingley's laughter faltered for a moment, as a sudden wonderful thought struck him. "And she loves me. This incomparable lady loves me! You believe it, too, or else you would never have told me all these things. Is it so?"
"With all my heart. I only hope I can find someone who will love me as well."
"Then I have your permission to ask for her hand in marriage?" Bingley's smile was returning, but for a moment he returned to the old habit of caution he had adopted when asking his esteemed friend's opinion.
Darcy almost laughed, but more at himself in mockery -- every reminder of how Bingley had learned to rely on Darcy's judgment than his own still pained him. "Do you need it?"
"Well..." Bingley thought a moment, and then his face brightened. "No, but if you are going to be my groomsman, I will be glad to know that you approve of the match."
"Positive on both counts!" Darcy happily cried, noticing that his coachman was taking his place up on the box and gathering the reins. "Now be on your way to Longbourn. You wouldn't want them to wait breakfast for you."
Darcy swung himself into the coach and waved goodbye to his friend, whose answering grin contained all of the brightness and happiness that Darcy was afraid his confession would have ruined. Glancing out the coach window a few minutes later, he thought he could just make out a figure on horseback, racing over the fields towards the Bennet household. He settled back in his seat with a relieved sigh, thinking how much he would have to tell his cousin over dinner.
The afternoon a few days later found Fitzwilliam at his lodgings, off duty and tackling some long-overdue correspondence. After the usual letters from his brother and his parents, there were three or four dinner invitations to consider, followed by a bill from his tailor. The last was a letter from his cousin Georgiana; Fitzwilliam opened it with pleasure, knowing he would derive more enjoyment from this document than from all the others he had read that day.
My dear Cousin,
You may find my indirect method strange, but I am writing to you to inquire of my brother's situation. I believed that he was in Hertfordshire visiting his friend Mr. Bingley, so you may imagine my surprise when I received his last letter, which was posted from London. I understood him to have no intention of going anywhere other than Netherfield, so his sudden relocation has made me somewhat concerned. My brother's letter mentions nothing of any consequence, but its subdued tone is unusual. In any case, my brother is in the habit of concealing distressing events from me, thinking to spare me any worry -- but I worry despite his care, because I can then perceive only that he is out of spirits, without knowing the cause!
Could he and Mr. Bingley have had some quarrel? During his visit at Pemberley this summer, I noticed that Mr. Bingley seemed somewhat out of spirits, although he improved during the few days when Miss Bennet was in the neighborhood. I fancied that my brother had done something which Mr. Bingley did not like, and that my brother could not quite bring himself to apologize for it. (You of all people know how much he hates to admit he is in the wrong.)
I was about to explain who Miss Bennet was, thinking you would not know of whom I was writing, but then I recalled that you must have met her last Easter, while you and my brother were visiting my Aunt Catherine. I must say that Miss Bennet is one of the most charming ladies I have ever met -- so friendly and open, and so pretty! I am sure your estimation of her must agree with mine. She showed me a thousand kindnesses while she was at Pemberley this summer, and her consideration enabled me to quite forget my fear of performing before the assembled company on the pianoforte. Even dear Mrs. Annesley remarked upon it!
So you see I have my own reasons for desiring my brother to remain on good terms with Mr. Bingley, whose estate is so near to where Miss Bennet lives. How is my wish of a better acquaintance with her to be fulfilled if my brother has no friends in the area? It may be difficult for a lady to become acquainted with the young sister of her neighbor's friend, but it must be impossible if the neighbor no longer claims the other as a friend! I should have asked if she would write to me, but I found neither the courage nor the opportunity to ask before she left.
If there has been some misunderstanding, my brother is being foolish if he has allowed it to separate him from Mr. Bingley. However, perhaps there is no misunderstanding at all, and it is only some matter of business that has taken my brother to town. I would be most grateful if you could write to my brother -- perhaps you might even call on him if your regimental duties will permit? -- to ensure that nothing of a serious nature has occurred.
It is a great comfort to know that I can depend on your assistance. I remain,
Your loving cousin,
Fitzwilliam folded the letter back into its envelope with a smile. When had Georgiana learned to be so observant of her friends' behavior? He would have liked to tell her all he knew of the reasons for Darcy's unusual actions, but he felt that Darcy would prefer to tell his sister in his own way. Apparently he had not told her very much at present, if his letter had not mentioned any of the events he had discussed with Fitzwilliam during and after dinner only a few nights before! Such distraction and absent-mindedness was truly unlike Darcy -- the thought of Miss Elizabeth Bennet must be unsettling him more than he would admit.
It was not in Fitzwilliam's nature to allow either of his cousins to be tormented by any unrequited feeling, whether it was curiosity or passion, if he could prevent it. First he pulled a fresh sheet of paper out of a drawer, intending to write an immediate reply to Georgiana, which would answer as many of her questions as Fitzwilliam felt he could honorably address. Then he was determined to discover some method to convince Darcy to return to Hertfordshire, and the sooner the better.
Several nights later, as he paced in an irritated manner around his study, Fitzwilliam felt no nearer to success. Numerous notes had gone back and forth between Fitzwilliam's office at the London barracks and the Darcy townhouse, and between Darcy's club and Fitzwilliam's lodgings, but to no avail. Darcy was wedged as firmly in London as a frightened turtle was in its shell, and it seemed as though nothing would remove him. Fitzwilliam had even considered sending a letter to Miss Elizabeth Bennet herself, no matter the impropriety, in the hope that she might come to London to see Darcy. It was quite impossible, of course -- there was a limit to the interference Darcy would permit his cousin to have in his affairs, and such an action was well beyond that limit.
Thoughts of Miss Bennet, however, brought to mind thoughts of her relations; perhaps the Gardiners could provide some assistance? They would surely have more information about the state of their niece's affections than Darcy possessed, and a well placed hint to Darcy from a couple that he so obviously respected might do immeasurable good. Only a moment after the idea was formed, Fitzwilliam was convinced he should make the attempt.
However, the letter was fated never to be written. In the instant that he sat down before his writing desk, his thoughts were interrupted by loud voices from the hall, soon followed by the sound of the door of his apartments being flung open in haste. He was surprised to see a most unexpected visitor sweep into the room.
"Aunt Catherine!"
"Fitzwilliam," she acknowledged, all the while surveying his study with a freezing glance. The setline of her mouth showed her disapproval. Such common surroundings for the son of an earl!
Surprise kept him glued in his chair for a moment, but when the sudden shock was past he leapt up to properly greet his guest. "To what do I owe the honor of this visit? May I offer you any refreshment?"
Practically ignoring him, Lady Catherine produced a large handkerchief from her reticule and carefully dusted off the seat of a nearby chair. Only when she was perched on the chair's extreme edge and had precisely folded and replaced the handkerchief did she turn her attention to her nephew. "I shall not be staying long. Where is your cousin Darcy?"
"I believe he is at his townhouse, Aunt," Fitzwilliam replied, perplexed. First his cousin, and now his aunt; were all of his female relatives hunting Darcy for some reason or other?
The corners of Lady Catherine's mouth turned down another fraction. "I have just come from there, and his housekeeper informed me that he was not at home. I require his presence at once to discuss a matter of the utmost seriousness and importance."
Although his aunt's definition of "serious" generally coincided with a more rational person's definition of "absurd," Fitzwilliam could see that for once she was truly disturbed. "Has something occurred at Rosings? Is my cousin Anne quite well?"
"My daughter is in good health, I thank you," Lady Catherine answered, bestowing the slightest of nods upon her nephew in thanks for his consideration, "but I am not here on any account of hers. No, my errand is far more grave: I must prevent an occurrence which could damage our family beyond all repair!"
Fitzwilliam pressed his aunt for more details, expecting that she would tell him anything from the amusing (had she failed to place another "treasure" of a governess with his mother?) to the bizarre (perhaps his brother had fled to the West Indies with an opera dancer). What he heard, however, was something else entirely.
"I have been given a report of the most scandalous nature, concerning your cousin Darcy, and I am determined that he shall refute it in every detail. It is insupportable that a countrified upstart like Miss Elizabeth Bennet should be engaged to my nephew!"
Darcy? Engaged to Miss Bennet? It was untrue, of course, so how could a report of their engagement have been circulated? Fitzwilliam began pacing the room again, considering how Darcy might react to this news.
"Fitzwilliam, sit down at once. Such erratic and purposeless movement is very distracting."
Was she still here? Fitzwilliam had been able to forget his aunt's presence for a blissful moment, but now that he was reminded of it, he complied with her wishes. He moved to a chair and sat down. "I beg your pardon, Aunt Catherine. What was it you were saying?"
Lady Catherine had already continued as if the interruption had never occurred. "Impudent, headstrong girl! She affected to be perfectly unconcerned by her younger sister's hasty, hushed-up marriage to that scoundrel Wickham, and moreover she declared she was insulted by my words to her! As if anything could be greater than her insult to me, when she refused to promise that she would never enter into an engagement with my nephew."
Had he heard correctly? Had his aunt really just come from Hertfordshire? "I beg your pardon again, Aunt. You visited Miss Bennet and she said what?"
"After she finally confessed to me that she is not at present engaged to Darcy, I required her to make a promise that she would never accept a proposal of marriage from him -- and she refused! Then she had the further audacity to declare that she would act in a manner that would best guarantee her own happiness, without the advice of anyone so wholly unconnected with her!"
"And may I ask, what is your course of action now?" Fitzwilliam inquired.
Lady Catherine huffed with displeasure. "I should have thought that was obvious, nephew. Since I could not obtain any promise from Miss Bennet, I will obtain one from Darcy -- that he will never pay her the compliment of a proposal. The poor boy must have been overwhelmed by that hussy's arts and allurements, but no doubt he will come to his senses after I tell him how she treated me."
Fitzwilliam had been thinking hard and fast all throughout his aunt's diatribe, but now he knew exactly what to do. "Aunt, I most strongly agree that Darcy must hear what you have told me tonight. If he is not at his townhouse, I am sure he must be at his club. I will send a message there, telling him to return home immediately, and if you leave now, you will not need to wait there long for his return."
Lady Catherine appeared satisfied and raised her cheek for her nephew's dutiful kiss. "Very well. Fitzwilliam, I am pleased that you share my view of the extreme seriousness of this situation."
He nodded solemnly. "Serious indeed, Aunt Catherine. Never has such an event occurred which could so influence the course of my cousin's life."
Lady Catherine allowed her nephew to escort her to her carriage, and as soon as the door closed behind her and the vehicle was on its way down the street, Fitzwilliam raced back to his study to scribble a note to his cousin:
Fitzwilliam Hoping his cousin would be able to read the message through all the inkblots and smears that had landed on the paper as he was writing his such haste, Fitzwilliam ran down the stairs again. He collared the first likely boy he saw and promised him half a crown if he could run to White's, deliver the note, and return in less than half an hour. The boy vanished with gratifying speed, paper in hand.
Fitzwilliam then returned upstairs -- at a more ordinary pace, this time -- and prepared himself for bed, wondering what new developments the morning would bring. He had no doubt that Darcy would know how to interpret Lady Catherine's tidings. The question was, would Darcy continue to hesitate in London, or would he act?
An answering note, delivered to Fitzwilliam's lodgings by messenger the next morning, put all of his fears to rest:
Dear Fitz,
Your warning arrived in time and was very much appreciated. As you certainly will have guessed, our aunt's information had quite the opposite effect on me than she intended. I have not felt so hopeful in some time! The dragon has been vanquished, and I am returning with all speed to the kingdom of Hertfordshire. Wish me luck in my renewed attempt to win a certain fair maiden there.
Your grateful cousin,
At the time, he thought he must certainly be dreaming. After that blissful walk this afternoon, if a squirrel had approached him to declaim a Greek oration, he would hardly have been surprised. For on a day when one marvelous event had already occurred, why should not there be other, equally impossible events? Not six months ago Darcy would have said it would be more likely that a squirrel should quote Aristotle or Socrates than that Miss Elizabeth Bennet should consent to marry him.
His cousin however, had disagreed - and he would have impersonated any variety of woodland creatures quoting passages from Plato's Republic to prove it, if necessary. Fitzwilliam, unlike Darcy himself, had never doubted the outcome of their actions. No matter when Darcy had been tempted to despair, Fitzwilliam had always roused him to continue, whether it was in pursuit of Lydia Bennet and George Wickham, or in his often awkward courtship of Miss Bennet.
It was therefore at Fitzwilliam's urging that he had returned, albeit unwillingly, to his house in London, where a most unwelcome visitor had been waiting with what happened to be very welcome news. When Lady Catherine had informed him that a certain impertinent young lady in Hertfordshire had refused not to marry him, Darcy felt the rebirth of all his hopes. Finally there seemed to be a possibility that his efforts to reform himself, to overcome his habits of pride and conceit, might not have gone unnoticed by the woman who had inspired him to change - but even then he was not certain if she realized that the change had been made on her behalf, or if she only thought it was some unaccountable variability in his character.
Now, however, he was certain - although after so long on the brink of despair, Darcy could scarcely believe his good fortune. Miss Bennet knew of his efforts in London on behalf of her sister Lydia, but instead of only creating an obligation, her gratitude actually added to the love she felt. That was the miracle of it all: that she loved him! And as evidence of her love, Elizabeth Bennet had promised to become Elizabeth Darcy, the partner of his soul and his life - his long trial of doubt was finally over, and now there was nothing left but to rejoice.
The first step in his celebration would be to tell the happy news to those of his family and friends who would most share his joy, chief among whom was Fitzwilliam. Considering how much he owed his cousin, Darcy doubted if he would ever be able to repay the debt. Modest as he was - though only the gods above knew how such an eminently accomplished gentleman managed to remain modest - Fitzwilliam would probably deny that there was any debt between them. Well, there was one way to ensure that he received the thanks he deserved: Darcy would tell Miss Bennet - or rather, Elizabeth, as he was now entitled call her - of his cousin's part in Lydia's recovery. He would then have Elizabeth's cleverness to aid him in determining how best to reward his cousin.
It would be a slight modification of the promise Darcy had made not to tell Elizabeth of Fitzwilliam's assistance until they were married, but he was sure Fitzwilliam would forgive he premature revelation. Lydia and Wickham would never have been discovered so soon if it were not for Fitzwilliam's help, and Darcy did not wish to take credit for actions which were not his.
And it was not only his invaluable help in London for which Fitzwilliam deserved recognition. After all, it had been Fitzwilliam's encouragement, as well as Elizabeth's reproofs, which had motivated Darcy in his attempt to overcome eight-and-twenty years of arrogance and conceit. Having lost his parents at such a relatively young age, there had been no one until now who had even suggested the possibility that his behavior was anything but proper for a young man in his circumstances. Fitzwilliam had been a mentor and role model as often as he could while they were growing up, but there had been many times Darcy had ignored his advice, thinking that a man who was only the second son of an Earl could have nothing to teach one who would be the master of Pemberley!
He had held on to such misguided thoughts for years, even though every time he saw his cousin he had wondered why Fitzwilliam was so much more successful in his friendships that Darcy was in his own. Would it have been different if his parents had survived? He remembered them both as being kind and loving, even when they were chastising him for some fault, and they were always proud when he had overcome the error of his ways. After their deaths, the young Darcy had simply assumed there was no one else in the world - not even a much-loved cousin, who was nearly a brother to him - who had the right and the authority to correct him.
There was a smile on Darcy's face, of the kind that usually appeared when he was thinking of his cousin. Not for the first time, though, he wondered why a gentleman of Fitzwilliam's many excellent qualities had not yet found a wife. If Darcy was to be so happy, it seemed unfair that his cousin should not have his share of the emotion, especially considering that he had done so much to help Darcy attain it. It was quite a shame that there was not a third Bennet sister who would be suitable for Fitzwilliam. However, he was a resourceful man, and he would probably be more than able to find a wife for himself, whenever he decided he wanted one - unlike Darcy, who needed some well-timed assistance!
If half of the impetus Darcy had required to begin his interior change had come from his cousin, the rest had come from the incomparable lady who was Elizabeth Bennet. Only she, out of all his acquaintance, had possessed the audacity to challenge him, refusing to conceal her irritation and displeasure at his snobbery. What he had told her earlier was quite true: that by her he was properly humbled. He smiled to himself, thinking of the reaction he would receive from Caroline Bingley or Clarissa Lancaster if he had dared to suggest he might need humbling! They would make haste to deny it, and assure him that a man in his position need defer to no one.
Of course, he was not so changed that he would defer to anyone without just cause; however, relations with his fellow men were sure to be more satisfying when they were built on a solid foundation of respect. He had made a good start in that direction with Bingley, and he hoped his other acquaintances would respond equally well. If they did not, then the acquaintance was likely not worth keeping.
In addition, these new habits of behavior might improve his relationship with his sister. At sixteen, she had reached an age where it would be difficult for him to act as nothing more than her protector and guardian. Were it not for Elizabeth's influence, he might have done so; but if he had, his sister might have turned out no better than his cousin Anne: dull and insipid, with never a thought of her own. Here again was an area in which Elizabeth's assistance would be invaluable. Her vivacity and charm would provide an excellent model for what he would wish Georgiana to become. As with himself, the habits of many years would be difficult to break. However, if Elizabeth was capable of inspiring reformation in Darcy, what might she be able to do for Georgiana - who was infinitely less stubborn!
So with Fitzwilliam and Georgiana already set to approve the match, the approbation of the rest of his family - saving perhaps Lady Catherine - was practically assured. But how would Elizabeth's family react? If it had only been a matter of gaining the permission of her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, Darcy would have had no fears. Since the Gardiners had witnessed what passed between Elizabeth and Darcy in Derbyshire, in addition to having first hand knowledge of Darcy's involvement in the search for Lydia and Wickham, they would have no reason to doubt the extent of his affection for their niece. In fact, Darcy reflected, thinking of one or two things that had been said during her visit to Pemberley, Mrs. Gardiner may have known - or at least suspected - the state of Darcy's heart long before Elizabeth did!
However, it would not be to the Gardiners that Darcy would have to apply for final permission to marry Elizabeth. What would Mr. Bennet have to say about his daughter's engagement? The question would be asked and answered soon, for he and Bingley were expected for dinner at Longbourn again tomorrow, and Mr. Bennet's habit of retiring to the library after his meal provided the perfect opportunity for a private interview. No doubt Bingley had also found it convenient, which he had made a similar inquiry, regarding Elizabeth's sister.
Darcy ruefully thought that his income would most likely assure the gentleman's consent - how many other fathers of young ladies in London would have been more than happy to approve him for exactly that reason? - but he felt he owed it to Mr. Bennet to assure him of the most sincere regard and affection in which he held Elizabeth. Whether Mr. Bennet would believe his assurances was another matter; it might require corroboration from Elizabeth to really convince him. And it would not be easy for Mr. Bennet to be losing two of his daughters in such quick succession. Darcy made a mental note to be sure to tell Elizabeth that her parents would be welcome at Pemberley whenever they cared to visit; while he would not vary from his plan of removing their daughter from Hertfordshire, there was nothing to prevent their following her thither, upon occasion.
Of course, where Mr. Bennet went, Mrs. Bennet was sure to follow. Darcy smiled to himself again, thinking of what that lady would do when she learned the identity of her second daughter's admirer. At dinner tonight and for several days beforehand, Bingley had been subjected to a minute examination in which the good woman discovered all of his favorite dishes, favorite music, and favorite dances, so Darcy expected he would receive the same treatment. No doubt she would also manage to instantly forget how much she had disliked him when he first came to Hertfordshire.
These many happy thoughts now brought Darcy up out of his chair, carrying him out of the drawing room and into the library. He bounded across the hall with unaccustomed vigor, startling the butler who was making his final nighttime round of the house, checking that all the doors were locked tight. The letters he had to write were pressing indeed, since he did not wish to wait for congratulations.
Fitzwilliam leaned back in his chair and smiled. Well done, Darcy! The letter had drooped forgotten in his hand for a moment, but now he raised it again to read over a few passages. Every line betrayed Darcy's extreme happiness and gaiety, and the normally precise handwriting was marred with enthusiastic blots. In celebration, Fitzwilliam intended to take himself to the officers' mess, where he would stand a round of drinks for as many of his fellow officers as he could find, so that they could toast the health of his cousin and his cousin's fianc»e. However, before he could depart, there was one thing he needed to do first.
Laying Darcy's letter back on the desk, he opened a small drawer and removed a painted miniature from inside. The face that looked up at him from the small piece of ivory in its gilt frame was that of a woman, with dark curling hair, merry blue eyes, and a familiar curve to her mouth. Fitzwilliam's fingers gently caressed the edge.
"It's done, Aunt Anne," he said. "I promised you I would take care of him. But now I think it would be appropriate if I turned my charge over to Miss Bennet - don't you agree?"
Fitzwilliam carefully replaced the tiny portrait, buttoned his jacket, clapped his hat upon his head, and went out into London to spread the joyous tidings of his cousin's engagement.
The dinner invitation from his brother had been quite straightforward, with nothing in its contents to make Fitzwilliam suspect anything out of the ordinary. However, he began to wonder if his brother had some devious purpose in mind when he saw, as the coach was pulling up to the door, just how brightly lit and gaily decked his brother's townhouse looked this evening. He wondered more when he noticed the other coach pulling away, its occupants having been welcomed into the house before he could note who they were.
Obviously my brother has something more than a simple family dinner planned for tonight, Fitzwilliam thought. Oh, bother - don't tell me he has invited Clarissa Lancaster and her family! His sister-in-law was determined to see him wed, preferably sooner rather than later, and this would not be the first time she had tried her hand at matchmaking. With a resigned sigh, he gave a final tug to his uniform coat and plastered what he hoped was a sincere smile on his face. Miss Lancaster would probably spend the entire evening pouting (thinking it made her look fetchingly innocent), trying to make witty remarks (and failing miserably), and wondering aloud why Fitzwilliam was not in his full dress regimentals (since she so adored the display of scarlet and gold). Considering he had come straight from a long day at the barracks, Fitzwilliam felt worn and tired - ready for an evening in his family's company, but without any of the necessary energy to fend off Miss Lancaster. Couldn't they have given me some warning?
The smile was already feeling stiff and unnatural as he gave his hat to the butler and walked towards the drawing room, from which he could hear the low buzz of conversation. His brother was the first to notice when he entered the room.
"There you are at last! I began to fear you would be detained by the unceasing demands of His Majesty's army, leaving no time for the demands of your family. Come in and say hello to everyone." Escape was now out of the question. After a firm handshake, Fitzwilliam's brother clamped an iron hand on his arm and drew him further into the room. Fitzwilliam uttered what would undoubtedly be the evening's first of many silent prayers for patience - he would need all he could get.
To his surprise, his parents were in attendance. What on earth are they doing here? Come to give their blessing to the match, were they? The Earl and Countess of Matlock looked to be in excellent health and spirits, and they greeted their son warmly. Fitzwilliam took the opportunity of kissing his mother's cheek to quietly beg for information.
"Mamma, will you tell me what is going on here?"
She declined to give any reply other than an indulgent smile; then she caressed his cheek with a gloved hand, and let his brother steer him away. The iron grip was as firm as ever as Fitzwilliam was led towards the next pair of dinner guests.
"I believe you have already had the pleasure of being introduced to most of the people here, which gives you the advantage of me," Fitzwilliam's brother was saying. "I was introduced to few of them for only the first time tonight. However, if even half the reports I have heard of them are true, I will certainly look forward to continuing the acquaintance. You will remember Mr. and Mrs. Edward Gardiner, of course? They arrived just a moment before you did."
As his brother finally let go of his arm and returned to attend his parents, delight quickly turned Fitzwilliam's fragile grimace to a genuine smile. He bowed in answer to the lady's curtsey and welcomed the gentleman's handshake. "Mr. Gardiner! Mrs. Gardiner! What a very great pleasure to see you again! When my brother invited me to dinner this evening, I had no idea that you would also be here."
Mrs. Gardiner's smile was nearly as mysterious as his mother's had been. Was it a trick that all married women learned? "If you had no idea, Colonel, it was because you were not meant to. I am glad to see you are not discomfited by the surprise."
"Not at all! I was afraid that one of the invited guests was a person I had rather not meet - which is to say, a certain predatory young lady who is determined to have me for a husband, no matter my objections to the match - so your presence is doubly welcome."
"Surely you are more than her equal in a skirmish of wit, sir?" Mr. Gardiner asked.
"So far I have proven so," Fitzwilliam replied, "but one never knows when one's adversary might have found a new advantage of strategy. I feared she had grown bold enough to make attacks against my unmarried state within the very sanctuary of my brother's home!"
Mrs. Gardiner turned her head as if looking for someone. "There is a young lady of your acquaintance who was also invited this evening. I wonder where÷oh, there she is, by the window. Come here, my dear. I know how much you would like to speak with him." She gestured for the young lady to approach.
Fitzwilliam turned to meet her, his insides clenching again. Miss Lancaster must have been invited after all! He was preparing himself to be coldly polite, but he was forestalled by the enthusiasm of the lady's greeting.
"Cousin!"
Was this truly Georgiana? Fitzwilliam was amazed to see her bright eyes and animated countenance. Could this be the same shy little mouse he had seen in London last summer? What a wonderful change! He gladly answered all the questions with which she bombarded him, laughing at the speed at which they followed each other - she seemed determined to learn in the space of five minutes everything that had happened in his regiment in the past five months. He was finally able to ask a question of his own when she paused for breath.
"Georgiana, I thought you were at Pemberley still! How is it you are here in London?"
She tucked her hand companionably into the crook of his elbow as they walked across the room together. "My brother had several particular reasons for coming to town, and I knew I could be of use to him on at least some of them, so I convinced him to let me come."
"What particular reasons are those? Given the nature of my cousin's usual business affairs in town, I would be interested to know how you intend to help him. Have you taken over the management of Pemberley's accounts?"
"No, nothing like that! Surely you know why he has traveled down. He is making preparations for his wedding, of course."
As a matter of fact, Fitzwilliam had not considered that a trip to London would be necessary for the final nuptial arrangements. Darcy would need to visit his solicitors and bankers to draw up the articles of the marriage settlement. "I am surprised he managed to tear himself away from Hertfordshire for even one day," he said at last. "How does he bear being away from Miss Bennet's company?"
Georgiana looked perplexed, as if Fitzwilliam was overlooking the most obvious fact of all. "My brother is not away from Miss Bennet. She also had no wish to be separated from him, so she is here as well."
"Miss Bennet is here in town? How marvelous! I shall have to pay my respects as soon as I can."
"Then you can pay your respects now. She and my brother are in the library, and Miss Bennet said she would especially like to speak with you when you arrived."
Georgiana then led her cousin into the next room, where everything was exactly as she had said: Darcy and Miss Bennet were waiting for them.
Darcy was the first to come forward, leaving his fianc»e to sit on the sofa while he exchanged a few words with his cousin. Fitzwilliam was pleased to see him look so well. The Darcy he had last seen in London - was it only a few weeks ago? - had been somewhat depressed, fearful that she whom he loved would never return his affections; this Darcy, however, was a man who positively glowed with happiness. Fitzwilliam felt an unexpected twinge of jealousy as he greeted his cousin: would he ever experience such a feeling?
Darcy departed shortly thereafter to escort his sister back to the drawing room, leaving Fitzwilliam with Miss Bennet. She had risen to her feet while he and Darcy were talking, and after the necessary bow and curtsey were exchanged, she invited him to come and sit next to her. It was an invitation that needed no repetition for Fitzwilliam. However, when he had taken his place by her on the sofa, he found himself at a loss for words. For a moment it was all he could do to admire her and marvel that this was the lady who had done so much to reform his cousin's character.
This left Miss Bennet to begin the conversation, and her words proved that Fitzwilliam's memory of the wit and humor she had displayed when he first met her in Kent was not mistaken. "I hope I do not find you tongue-tied out of any sense of impropriety, Colonel Fitzwilliam," she said. "I assure you I have Mr. Darcy's permission to conduct a private interview with his cousin."
Fitzwilliam, slightly abashed, responded with a laugh. "I am glad to hear it, Miss Bennet. I hate to think what Darcy would do to me if I presumed to claim your attention without his permission."
"Most gentlemen who undertook such a presumption would undoubtedly find themselves the object of one of Mr. Darcy's most baleful glares, which is enough to make the stoutest heart quail in fear and trepidation."
"Ah, I see you are already familiar with my cousin's looks! However, I will brave his ferocity and trust that you could cajole him into a more pleasant attitude, should he ever look so fiercely at me."
"Colonel Fitzwilliam, you are mistaken if you believe his displeasure could ever be directed at you," she said. "Your company will never be an imposition to myself or to Mr. Darcy. Not only do you hold a particular place of honor as his cousin, but we are also quite sensible of the great service you rendered him."
Fitzwilliam chose to be obtuse. "I am afraid I have not the pleasure to know of what you are speaking. It is true I saw my cousin when he was in town several months ago, but nothing passed between us that has not occurred on previous meetings."
"I see," she solemnly replied. "Does this mean you have made it something of a habit to rescue irresponsible young ladies from ruination at the hands of unprincipled scoundrels? I confess I am surprised to hear it happens so often that it has become commonplace for you. Perhaps it is the special duty of all the officers in your regiment to protect the reputations of any wayward damsels who inhabit London."
She was disturbed to see him look suddenly grim, but his reply explained his change of countenance. "Since you seem to have such an intimate knowledge of my actions, Miss Bennet, I will not trouble to deny it. My experience in such matters includes only one unprincipled scoundrel, but I regret to say that there were two young ladies."
"Colonel Fitzwilliam, I most sincerely beg your pardon," she hurried to say. "I had no intention to revive memories which must surely be as painful to you as they are to Mr. Darcy. I meant only to express thanks on behalf of myself and my family for what you did for my sister Lydia."
"If you must thank someone, Miss Bennet, let it be my cousin Darcy." Fitzwilliam's humor was returning quickly, for he knew Miss Bennet would never intentionally make any ill reflection upon his cousin Georgiana. "It is he who deserves all the credit for your sister's rescue."
Miss Bennet looked at Fitzwilliam with a jesting glint in her eye. "Oh no, Colonel. You see, I have heard a very different version of events from Mr. Darcy's lips, and since he is now my intended husband, I cannot begin our life together by doubting his word so soon! He declares that without you he would never have located my sister, and that he should certainly never have been able to find employment for Mr. Wickham in a place so conveniently distant from London. Even if you had made no other contribution to my sister's recovery than the sacrifice of your promotion, I should still say I knew not how to repay you."
By now Fitzwilliam's eye showed an equal sparkle. "To my cousin Darcy, of course, I have said that no repayment is necessary. I would say the same to you, Miss Bennet, but I suppose you would insist that was unacceptable."
"I most definitely would," she replied.
"In that case, Miss Bennet, a very trifling payment will do, if you will permit a small liberty from a gentleman who is soon to be your cousin÷?" He raised an interrogative eyebrow.
She gave a sweet smile and nodded her assent, although she was not quite sure what to expect of him. That smile deepened as Fitzwilliam gently possessed himself of her hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed it.
"Miss Bennet, there are likely many who are surprised that I would do so much on your sister's behalf, considering that, except for one brief meeting, she is completely unknown to me. However, considering that it was my cousin Darcy who requested my assistance, out of love for him - and friendship for you - I could have done no less."
"Again, I thank you, Colonel Fitzwilliam."
They shared a moment of friendly silence before Fitzwilliam realized it was high time for dinner - in fact, the other guests had probably been waiting all this time for him and Miss Bennet to rejoin them in the drawing room. Not wishing to stretch their patience any longer, he stood up and gallantly offered Miss Bennet his arm to escort her back to the assembled company. This duty had also the benefit of offering him a few more moments of uninterrupted conversation with her.
"Miss Bennet, I would not wish to tell you anything to the detriment of your fianc», but I must say he had promised to keep my involvement in this matter a secret from you until after your marriage." Fitzwilliam did his best to look stern, but the corners of his mouth kept twitching back towards a grin.
She laughed before answering. "Mr. Darcy has given me the task of begging you to forgive him. If he was impatient to reveal how you aided him, it was only because he wanted me to be as grateful to you as he is, and to learn to appreciate your many merits. Of course, one could also say you have only yourself to blame for Mr. Darcy's over-hasty confession - if your assistance had been less valuable, Mr. Darcy would not wish so much to praise you for it."
"Ah, so now it's my own fault! I may have one or two words to say to Darcy about that, Miss Bennet, but I will forgive him. After all, I will also need his forgiveness, since I came very near to breaking a similar promise in a conversation with your aunt, Mrs. Gardiner. Perhaps she will have told you the substance of our discussion?" The look upon Miss Bennet's face said that her aunt had made such a report, and that Miss Bennet had found the narrative most informative.
"So Darcy and I are even on that score," Fitzwilliam continued. "However, since I dearly love to have the advantage over Darcy whenever I can, I must make haste to retaliate. Has he perhaps told you of the time when he frightened my mother's good friend, Lady Hamilton, nearly out of her wits? No? Well, that I must tell you at once."
Fitzwilliam's droll anecdotes had Miss Bennet laughing heartily by the time they sat down to dinner. The evening passed quite pleasantly indeed, for Fitzwilliam found himself happily seated between Miss Bennet and her aunt, and across from his cousins.
A great deal of the dinner conversation was focused on the newly affianced couple, which seemed to Fitzwilliam only natural. After all, celebrating their engagement must be the reason for this merry collection of friends and family. However, there was still some undercurrent of thought and feeling unifying the people at the table that Fitzwilliam still could not identify.
Not until the end of the meal did Fitzwilliam understand the true reason for their gathering. When the plates had been cleared away but before the gentlemen and ladies went their separate ways to the library and the drawing room, that Darcy pushed back his chair and rose to his feet, wine glass in hand.
"I should like to propose a toast," he said. "Tonight we have in our midst one of the best men in England. Raised as a gentleman, trained as a soldier, he has acquired numerous other skills and talents that would take me weeks to describe, were I to attempt to list them all. Without him, there might have been a much more melancholy resolution to a recent difficult situation of which you are all aware. No man could ever ask for a better cousin, or a truer friend. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you - Colonel Fitzwilliam!"
Almost as one, the other chairs were pushed back and the other glasses were lifted in salute, as the toast was repeated around the table. "Colonel Fitzwilliam!"
If Fitzwilliam himself was surprised by the tribute, he did his best to conceal it; nothing, however, could hide the flush of equal parts pleasure and embarrassment that colored his cheeks. Darcy must have told a few other people besides Miss Bennet about what had occurred in London this summer! He had not desired thanks, but it seemed there was no escaping it.
In that case, he might as well enjoy himself. He stood, bowed to the assembled company with a flourish, and raised his own glass in reply. "Hear, hear!" he proclaimed, grinning for all he was worth. Darcy laughed at his cousin's impudence, and the two men shook hands across the table.
A great many more handshakes, smiles, and laughs were exchanged before Fitzwilliam managed to get to the library, once again with a glass of his brother's excellent brandy. The armchair and the ottoman were in exactly the same place as they had been months before, on the night of Darcy's precipitous arrival. He allowed himself to briefly mull over the events of the summer, from the ball where they had gained their first clue to Wickham's location, to the nights waiting in the rain for their quarry to appear, to the meeting with Lord BÛ to arrange Wickham's commission, and to those last days in town when he thought he would never be able to persuade Darcy to return to Hertfordshire. It had all been accomplished though a most fortuitous combination of luck and determination, but he was proud that it had been accomplished well.
Fitzwilliam thought to himself, And if you had to do it all over again? Why then, he'd do exactly the same.
Part 15: A bit of correspondence
September 12, 18--
Pemberley
Fitzwilliam Darcy September 18, 18--
London
Edward FitzwilliamSeptember 20, 18--
London
Edward FitzwilliamLetter from Fitzwilliam Darcy to Colonel Fitzwilliam:
Netherfield
Fitzwilliam Darcy
Part 16 -- Darcy eats his words and his dinner
Part 17 -- A variety of female relatives
September 28, 18--
Pemberley, Derbyshire
Georgiana DarcyImperative you return home at once. There is a dragon waiting for you who has important news concerning Miss E.B. Good luck.
October 4, 18--
London
Fitzwilliam Darcy
Part 18 - Evening at Netherfield
Part 19 - Conclusion
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