Chapter 31
M y cousin’s man and I met in the library with undisguised interest in one another’s welfare.
“You look well,” I said appraisingly.
“As do you, Mr Darcy.”
“We are both lying, but I thank you. I confess I have so little strength I would have to be helped into the saddle and could not ride for more than ten minutes.”
“Nor I, sir. But of the two I paid the lesser toll, for there is no better place to be laid low than Pemberley. The inn at Brampton was a poor shelter at best.”
“I am glad then that I have no recollection of it. I wished to thank you, Roger, for bringing help when you did and moreover, for your companionship.”
“We had a rare old time, did we not, sir?”
“The rarest. And my cousin? How do you find his arm these days?”
“As you see, he has the use of it restored somewhat, but now that I am recovering, I mean to coax him to raise it above his head.”
“I do not envy you.”
The sergeant’s moustache twitched, and he said, “I have his measure, Mr Darcy, being perhaps just as much of a stubborn old crotchet as the colonel.”
“What vile lies are being said of me?” Fitzwilliam said from the door to the library. “My shoulder aches these days whenever I am maligned, you know.”
“Does it also tell you when it might rain or when some foul deed is afoot in the palace?” I asked, winking conspiratorially at his batman.
Donaldson chuckled as he excused himself and my cousin took a seat beside me. We had not commiserated for more than a few moments at a stretch since my return home, and in fact, we did not do so then. Instead, we fell into silence as he took up a book, and I stared out the window.
“My leave ends soon,” he eventually said.
“I was afraid you were coming to tell me so. I shall miss you, you know.”
“I do. And I am serious about finding the time to travel to Hertfordshire with Georgiana. We should plan to meet in Meryton in October.”
“And where do you suggest we stay—at the tavern?”
“I see you have not read your mail.”
“Only those few letters that pertain to the estate.”
“Bingley has invited us to hunt this year. I could not go last year, you recall.”
“He is to open Netherfield Park?”
“Hmm. He is bringing with him his affianced and her family and wishes to have a grand house party.”
I sat dumbstruck for two beats of a measure. Then three, four, and five beats.
“Who is he to marry?” I finally croaked.
“I do not recall precisely. Miss St-John or Jordan or some such.”
“Johnson.”
“Yes. I believe that was it. What is the matter?”
I could only shake my head in disbelief, but upon his insistence, I relented, relating in as few words as possible the history which had rendered me so speechless.
“Our friend Bingley may have raised the elder Miss Bennet’s hopes last year, and now he is to come back and rub salt in that wound.”
It was my cousin’s turn to stare at me dumbstruck.
“Miss Bingley must not be best pleased,” I continued distractedly, for I was still quite shocked. “She had hopes her brother would marry Georgiana?—”
“He would what?”
“…and she heartily despised the Johnsons who have their fortune from his East India business.”
“I-I do not rightly know what to say,” Fitzwilliam eventually spluttered. “How could he be so stupid as to raise Miss Bennet’s hopes?”
“He falls in love easily, you recall. And apparently, he falls out of it just as easily. At the time, his sisters and I discouraged his interest. Miss Bennet has no fortune, she has connexions in trade, and her family was—forgive me—shocking.”
“You are generous with your opinions,” he said with a degree of tartness, for it was a rule between gentlemen not to meddle in one another’s affairs.
“Do you wonder at it? I was hopeful I could listen to my own advice and escape Hertfordshire unscathed.”
He opened his mouth with every appearance of his intent to upbraid me, so I forestalled him by slumping heavily back into my chair.
“I wish you would not lecture me. I have spent many hours regretting everything. ” My confidence, newly born the night before, began to waver.
Would a fresh heartbreak for Jane Bennet cause Elizabeth to remember her grievance against me? I was Bingley’s disapproving friend !
Fitzwilliam may not have even heard my expression of regret, for he seemed to be deep in thought. “We should certainly join the house party now,” he said after some thought.
“I am not so sure we ought to go. My presence may only add to the awkwardness of that situation.”
He snapped shut his book and in a voice of great determination, he said, “You had better overcome your misgivings, for not only should we go, but we must try to do what can be done to lessen the sting to Miss Bennet’s pride.”
“And how do you suggest we do that? The resentment felt by her sister for my part in it?—”
“Must certainly be blunted when I apply myself to her sister’s ease.”
“You?”
“Did I not write to you that there was one bright spot in my visit to Meryton? By God, Darcy, I mean to make her think of Bingley as a stupid, passing fancy.”
“Need I remind you Miss Bennet has no fortune?”
“Did I say I would marry her? I admire her, and that is where the matter ends. My intention is only to soften the blow.”
“You have a great deal of confidence in your charm,” I drawled.
“I have the assurance of her sister’s letter. Do you recall? The lady mentioned the loss of my company.”
“Oh, in that case, your swagger is justified. You must be an expert at paying particular attention to a lady and not raising her hopes. I am certain her mother will not mistake your intentions in the least.”
He laughed off my sarcasm and stood up an entirely different man from the one who entered the room.
“It is only because you have been ill you are so peevish,” he replied with that stupid merriment that invalids truly hate.
Still, I could not deny he seemed to have assumed a mission and looked more powerful for it.
“I must return to Headquarters tomorrow and make myself so useful that when I ask again for leave, it is granted. In this one case, I am grateful for my father’s title, for I have only to hint he has need of me to be given my freedom.”