Chapter 23
A s it turned out, Fitzwilliam, who had been searching for me, peeped into the room and discovered my sister and me closeted there at the conclusion of our enjoyment of Elizabeth Bennet’s letter.
“What is this?” he teased.
Rather than act as guilty as I felt for having consciously excluded him, I said, “Georgiana often reads me her letters from Miss Elizabeth. Did I tell you she has found that lady to be an excellent correspondent?”
He came into the room and sat down. This discomposed my sister a little, for he had never done so before. Her maid, however, had come to expect my visits and had her dressed in a silk embroidered robe with her hair prettily arranged, so it was not as though she was in true deshabille.
“What does your new friend have to say? I enjoy her conversation very much. I visited her, you know, when I was in Hertfordshire. I met her family, which is entirely made up of girls, and I was made to feel like the King of Siam upon my arrival. Did she mention it?”
My sister was forced to reply in the affirmative, and at his urging, read the paragraph which referenced him, politely sparing him the information that Mrs Bennet hoped to make him a son-in-law.
When she came to the end of her recital, he asked her to repeat the last passage…
the colonel’s arrival on any given day had been the height of entertainment for us, and even Jane has once or twice mentioned the loss of him.
“Miss Bennet mentioned me? She is uncommonly beautiful. You have met her, Darcy. Do you not agree?”
“She is considered to be the beauty of the neighbourhood and has somehow kept her modesty intact. There is a great deal to admire in her.”
“But I believe you admire her sister more?”
“I do. She is a great favourite of my own sister, you see, and so she is a great favourite of mine. But, were you looking for me? We should go down to breakfast and let Georgiana have what peace she may before she is whisked off to endure a musical recital.”
“I thought you enjoyed nothing more,” he said to her in surprise.
After a nearly imperceptible sigh, she said, “I did when it was a treat after a week at home with no entertainment.”
We went down to breakfast and when the footmen had left the room I said, “You must be in a great deal of pain. Either that or you are in a temper because you have decided to pay a call on your mother today. Why else would you press upon my privacy so openly and in front of my sister? This is unlike you, and I cannot even ask you to step outside, so I can poke you for it.”
He did not contradict my assessment or pretend he did not know to what I referred. “I own I am so foul these days as to hate myself. If it would make you feel better, you may incapacitate my other arm, for what use am I?”
“This, too, is unlike you. You forget how many men you have known who have lost a dominant arm and learnt how to use the other successfully.”
“You are right, of course, and once I have endured my mother’s probing questions and pocketed the list of ladies with fat portions I am to call upon, I believe I shall take your advice and extend my leave.”
“Will you go to Pemberley?”
“Where better to regain my health? And in return, I ask that you now take my advice. If you are determined on a tour of rustication, you must take Donaldson with you.”
“Do you imply I am too soft to go alone? You, who have so often boasted that your troops can walk thirty miles or more in a day in bad boots with only dried horse and cheap gin to sustain them? I would think you would encourage me to harden myself in just that way.”
“Listen to me,” he said gravely. “I have just encountered certain realities in Hertfordshire I would prefer to forget. I share the guardianship of your sister, and I do not want to have to tell her that you were clubbed to death in the night for your boots. Lord, Darcy, do you think I would allow you to go at all if I did not suspect you are trying to walk off your feelings for a woman?”
I hated how clearly he had stated the case and took three deliberate breaths lest I reply with a telling degree of awkwardness. “Very well. I shall take Donaldson with me if he will go. Might we now make peace?”
We gladly did, so much so that the next morning, Fitzwilliam freely congratulated me on Georgiana’s progress. “You have done well without me,” he said. “Perhaps you have done more for her alone than you would have done with my interference.”
The circumstance resulting in his fulsome compliment had unfolded earlier that morning when my sister had come down to breakfast. My cousin and I had not yet stood up from the table, and we lingered to keep her company.
After stirring her tea, she turned to me. “Might I pay a call on Mrs Gardiner before we leave town?”
I looked appraisingly at her as I sipped the last of my coffee.
“You are out now, Georgie. Here is what you must say: ‘I plan to pay a call on Mrs Gardiner today if you would care to join me.’ If either Mrs Annesley or I have objections, we shall state them, but it would remain your choice to go or not.”
She smiled at me with pinking cheeks. “I plan to pay a call on Mrs Gardiner today if you would care to join me.”
“I would gladly escort you,” I said, “but I would be equally happy to see you strike off on your own, confident of your ability to visit your acquaintance without your guardians for support. Now, it is for you,” I said instructively, “to choose which option you prefer.”
“Do I indeed have so much power?” she asked wonderingly, as if I had told her she could sail alone to India if she wished.
“You do. And lest you fall into the habit of letting everyone around you make your choices, you should practise making more decisions about your time.”
“Very well. I should like to go by myself to see how I do. Well, I would like to take Mrs Annesley with me, for she might like to meet Mrs Gardiner.”
When she had gone, and after Fitzwilliam had congratulated me upon my handling of this trifling matter, he said, “Let us find a map, Darcy. I would like to see where you plan to walk. Should I call for Donaldson?”