Chapter V #3
“That is the problem,” said Darcy. “She tempts me far too much.”
“Why it is a problem, I do not know,” replied Fitzwilliam. “You have the power of choice, Darcy. As you have a fine fortune and no title, you are free to choose whoever you want—if society does not approve of her, why should you concern yourself? You have never cared for society anyway.”
It was a point Darcy had never considered.
What Fitzwilliam said was not mere idle talk—part of Darcy’s reticence was the inability to tolerate poor behavior, and such was ripe in the circles he frequented in London.
In five years, he had not met a woman for whom he possessed anything more than superficial interest, yet Miss Elizabeth had captured and held his attention without effort, apparently with no intention.
Denying himself this happiness was not only irrational but would condemn him to a loveless marriage.
“I see you are reconsidering.”
Interrupted from his thoughts, Darcy returned his cousin’s look. Fitzwilliam nodded at what he saw in Darcy’s eyes.
“The problem is that the lady in question does not look on you with favor, and your unthinking comment at her expense is not the only reason for her opinion. Though I know you have made no decisions at this point, if you wish to make the attempt with her, then you must rehabilitate your reputation first.”
Fitzwilliam shrugged. “I have done what I can to mitigate her poor impression, but there is only so much I can do. If you wish her opinion to change, you must do that yourself.”
“Yes, I can see that,” murmured Darcy.
A wry amusement settled over Fitzwilliam’s features. “At least you will have the opportunity should you wish it. Had she accepted our aunt’s parson, that avenue would be closed.”
Darcy’s heart stopped beating. “Mr. Collins proposed?”
Finding that strangled question amusing, Fitzwilliam nodded. “He did. Though the Bennets have made no explicit comments in my hearing, I suspect, given what I know of Aunt Catherine’s preferences, what sort of man Collins is.”
“You have no idea, Fitzwilliam,” said Darcy, shaking his head, wondering how he had not seen how Collins favored Miss Elizabeth.
“At Bingley’s ball, he not only approached me to speak of Lady Catherine’s continued health without the benefit of an introduction, but he took several opportunities thereafter to regale me with tales of Lady Catherine’s ‘succor,’ her wise edicts, and the hydrangeas she instructed him to plant just so in his garden. ”
“A sycophant from his head to his toes, then,” murmured Fitzwilliam, amused at the picture Darcy painted.
“Far more than even I saw, I suspect,” agreed Darcy.
“Collins proposed to her, but she had the good sense to reject him. From what I understand, he engaged himself to Miss Lucas before he even returned to Kent.”
“That was . . . precipitous.”
“Indeed, it was. I must assume that Lady Catherine gave him instructions to return as an engaged man—you know how Lady Catherine feels about unmarried men.”
“As we have both been subjected to her ladyship’s feelings on the subject every spring, I suspect you know as well as I do.”
Fitzwilliam snorted, but he did not belabor the point. “What will you do? If you wish to return to London, there is no reason for you to stay. Unless you mean to make amends to Miss Elizabeth.”
After considering the question for a moment, Darcy ventured: “Bingley is to go to the north—if I wish to avoid his sister, Netherfield is an excellent place to do so, for she hates the neighborhood and will not return willingly.”
“She might if she thought her webs were in danger of unraveling.”
As Darcy recalled, Miss Bingley had some notion of his interest in Miss Elizabeth—if she knew he was here, Darcy suspected his cousin was correct.
Fortunately, he thought he could trust in Bingley’s silence in this instance, especially as Darcy had given no indication of wishing to stay any longer than he must.
“I am uncertain it is wise.”
Fitzwilliam did not speak—instead, he waited for Darcy to clarify.
“Bingley had some interest in a young woman in the neighborhood, a woman his sister considered unsuitable. When we returned to London, she persuaded him against pursuing her.”
The light of understanding lit Fitzwilliam’s eyes. “Tell me, Darcy—did you have something to do with Bingley’s decision not to return?”
“I gave nothing more than my opinion of her indifference,” said Darcy. “The lady in question is the daughter of a local country gentleman, so from that perspective, she is an eligible match. For Bingley to advance in London society, he must marry a woman who has some presence in town.”
Though he regarded Darcy for several moments, in the end, Fitzwilliam did not press the matter further. “I am aware of that situation, Cousin. Let me only say that matters have altered on that score. Should you stay any longer, you will learn why.”
“Perhaps I may stay for a few days,” said Darcy, trying to tell himself that the pull of Miss Elizabeth’s allure was not the reason for his decision.
Fitzwilliam nodded. “Then I hope you are ready to make amends.”
Not trusting himself to speak, Darcy agreed and allowed the subject to rest.