Chapter 14 #2
Darcy ignored this slight on his worldliness. “If it is true, then how weak and desperate he must be,” he said quietly. “To steal, to kill, and to sell those items below value to have money quickly.”
Fitzwilliam gave him a stern look. “Like I said, whoever is behind this is not the man you thought he was.”
It was a chilling realisation, and yesterday both men walked alone with Elizabeth.
What if she had mentioned her suspicions about Carew’s death or noticing her missing ring?
“I expect them to return on Sunday. I will search their rooms before then, and then watch to see if either of them leaves the house to plunder Lambton again.”
“And I will ride to Matlock and Buxton on Monday to see if anything of note was pawned this week. Someone who is not the usual weekly pawner might stand out.”
They were now in the stable yard, and made their way inside where they were told that Miss Bennet and Mrs Lanyon had accompanied Miss Darcy and Mrs Annesley to distribute clothing and food to his tenants.
Even though Balfour and Utterson were fifteen miles away, he was glad to know that his steward was accompanying them.
Upon realising the women were still gone and there was an hour yet until they had to dress for dinner, Fitzwilliam asked, “Cues or maces?” and turned towards the billiard room.
“Cues,” he answered, and they settled on the rules and that they would play to only six.
They played in companionable silence for five minutes before Fitzwilliam said, “Why did Miss Bennet leave her newlywed sister to stay here a few weeks longer? I would have thought she would be unhappy with you after she learnt how you disapprove of her sister’s match.”
“Disapproved,” he corrected, hitting the red ball.
“Past tense. I heartily approve now that I know she loves Bingley.” Darcy struck another ball.
“And my former objections had nothing to do with her, but rather her connexions, the behaviour of her family, and my mistaken belief of her indifference to Bingley.”
“Still, even after what you did, Miss Bennet left her sister to stay here . . . with you.”
“With Mrs Lanyon,” he corrected.
“With her new friend of scarcely a week? A strange reason to leave her family.”
Darcy thought Fitzwilliam was the last person to imply anything wanting in Mrs Lanyon’s friendship, but he stayed silent on that point.
“Miss Bennet could be drawn to Mrs Lanyon’s intelligence and dignity, and Mrs Lanyon must enjoy Miss Bennet’s friendly manner.
You have said yourself that Mrs Lanyon does not make friends easily,” he added, stepping rather close to his cousin’s friendship with the widow.
“After what I inadvertently told Miss Bennet about your part in separating Bingley from her sister, I would not have been surprised to learn that Miss Bennet hates you.” Fitzwilliam aimed at the white ball but missed. “Would that have distressed you?”
“Yes, in general I am loathe to have houseguests who hate me.” What about houseguests who might be thieves or murderers?
“In Kent, I thought you might have found her pretty, and that lively manner of hers was an attraction too.”
“Hmm,” Darcy said as he aimed and missed also. “Perhaps.”
“I think your interest is more than a passing admiration.” Darcy said nothing. “If Miss Bennet visited Pemberley even after you nearly ruined her sister’s chance of happiness, if she extended her visit, if she really did forgive you . . .”
“Yes?”
“Must I speak plainly? You ought to think about what that says of her feelings for you.”
“You think that Miss Bennet admires me?” he said, turning his head to hide a smile.
“I do,” he said simply. “I would not have said so in Kent, but her manner towards you was less satirical yesterday than I had seen before. I do not think she would have stayed at Pemberley if she did not like you. I always thought you might have admired her. You ought to seriously consider the subject.”
Darcy barked a dry laugh. “My marrying Miss Bennet has been the subject of many contemplative hours, I assure you.”
This made Fitzwilliam miss again. He looked up sharply and asked, “What did you decide?”
“I decided at Hunsford to ask her to marry me.” Fitzwilliam’s mouth gaped open. “I think it obvious what Miss Bennet decided. I would not wish that this matter should be made a parade of,” he added, pointing at his cousin.
“She refused you? Because of what you did to Bingley and her sister?”
Darcy set down the cue and ran a hand over his eyes. “Yes . . . no, not only because of that. My behaviour to her at the time merited the severest reproof. It was unpardonable, and she was right to reject me.”
Fitzwilliam set aside his own cue and crossed his arms, giving him a stare. “It looks like it was pardonable, given how you said she forgave you and she stayed at your house when any other woman would have left at the soonest possible hour.”
He gave a weak smile. “I have reason to hope. We have spoken about what happened at Hunsford, and she forgives me for . . . everything.”
His cousin gave him an expectant, wide-eyed look.
“Then why have you not asked her a second time? Your family would not desire the connexion, save for Georgiana and me, but you were already willing to cast away every family obstacle on your side and overlook her family’s behaviour and connexions. What keeps you silent now?”
Darcy walked to a window that overlooked the ruined garden.
“Because of this,” he said, pointing. “The storm has occupied my every waking moment this week. There is much to be done, so much to pay for, everyone else’s fears to placate.
The livelihoods of hundreds of people under my protection have been threatened; it is not a responsibility I take lightly.
And,” he added drily, “let us not forget Carew’s death, and the plundering in Lambton, and the unhappy possibility that one of my friends might be behind both. ”
His cousin gave him a gentle look. “I know of no person who, in my judgment, could better execute the duties of restoring Pemberley than yourself.”
“My father—”
“Is dead,” Fitzwilliam said kindly. “You are Mr Darcy.”
He nodded, collecting himself. He would manage this disaster, he would safeguard the well-being of everyone at Pemberley, and he would find and punish whomever was behind Carew’s death.
“You need a little respite from business, Darcy,” Fitzwilliam said.
“You sound like Balfour. Moderate exercise and books are a good restorative.”
Fitzwilliam glared. “That is not what I mean.”
“Many people’s happiness is in my guardianship, and that happiness and stability has been threatened. Until they are secure, I can hardly think on securing my own happiness.”
“Do not squander the opportunity you have. Miss Bennet is right here,” he added, pointing to the door.
“Very soon we will have a conversation, once this matter of Carew’s death is resolved and I can think clearly.”
Fitzwilliam shook his head. “You are not just a landlord and master. Despite your chaste history”—his voice lilted in a tease—“you are a man first.”
Darcy was tempted to remind his cousin of his unchaste history with Mrs Lanyon, but that would only prolong a conversation that was fast becoming too personal.
It was bad enough that his heart beat faster at the thought of holding Elizabeth against him, feeling her arms around him and her lips moving over his, preferably whilst they were lying in his bed.
I long to know for certain in what manner she thinks of me, if she loves me.
“I shall manage it in my own time, and in my own way, thank you.”
“Does the uncertainty of her affections not weigh on you just the same as all the rest of your concerns?”
Darcy suspected his face expressed the truth of that.
“Of course it does. But how do I think of my own happiness, of courting a woman, when the people here are suffering? When one of my friends is possibly a murderer?” He shook his head.
“Soon I will have a conversation with Miss Bennet,” he repeated.
Fitzwilliam nodded once. “Leave it with me.”
Darcy knew that look. “No, no, I shall speak to her in my own time—”
“Balfour and Utterson return tomorrow night and our acting as sleuth-hounds begins in earnest. You need to leave Pemberley for a few hours tomorrow, and you need to throw yourself at Miss Bennet’s feet.
” Fitzwilliam walked away, ignoring his plea to not interfere.
“Leave it with me,” he called over his shoulder as he left.
To Elizabeth, it felt almost like a family party, although she and Hester were outsiders.
The conversation at dinner was quick and lively.
It could not help but touch on Pemberley’s concerns, but it did not feel as heavy a presence as it had been.
The talk between the cousins recurred to their younger days, and they supplied anecdotes in abundance to occupy and entertain the rest of them.
Colonel Fitzwilliam’s presence added a levity that had been missing since the first storm, and his presence made Darcy exert himself more than he had recently.
After the gentlemen rejoined them in the drawing room, she realised that Hester was also more at ease, but it was because Colonel Fitzwilliam did not distinguish her with any particular attention.
He was engaging and polite, but he never singled her out, and Hester was calmer than she had been yesterday.
He respects the boundary Hester has placed around him.
Elizabeth was playing—content that no one was truly listening to her performance—when she heard the sudden sound of Darcy’s laughter.
He was on the other side of the room with his cousin, and Colonel Fitzwilliam had said something that stirred Darcy’s face into mirth.
His laughter was more melodic and joyful than she would have expected from one so guarded.