Chapter 29
Darcy was humming.
Well, he was not exactly humming — that would be insupportable in a drawing room—but it was taking all of his will-power to repress his own musical rendition of the last song he heard Elizabeth play on the pianoforte.
Tomorrow, I will be marrying her.
Darcy had spent much of the morning attending to small matters of the estate with Bingley, both men attempting—with limited success—to keep their thoughts from drifting continually toward the following day.
But several times already he had caught himself pausing in the middle of some small task, only to remember—quite suddenly—that by this time tomorrow Elizabeth Bennet would be Elizabeth Darcy.
He had never expected to feel so… light.
Bingley, observing this unusual state of cheerfulness, had already accused him of smiling no fewer than three times before luncheon. Darcy had denied the charge with dignity, though privately he suspected the accusation was not entirely unfounded.
Indeed, the entire household at Netherfield seemed caught in a current of anticipation.
Servants moved briskly through the halls, preparations for the wedding breakfast already underway.
Georgiana had attempted to practice the pianoforte earlier that morning but abandoned it after ten minutes, declaring that she could not concentrate on anything while waiting for tomorrow to arrive.
Darcy himself had attempted to read.
He had not progressed beyond the second page.
He stood now near the windows of the drawing room, looking out across the winter fields at the side of the house, doing his best to make the ticking of the clock proceed more quickly. It was therefore something of a relief when the sound of carriage wheels announced an arrival.
A moment later the footman opened the door to the drawing room.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam, sir.”
Bingley sprang to his feet at once. “Richard!”
The colonel strode in with the brisk ease of a man accustomed to travel and greeting. His face lit immediately at the sight of the company.
“Bingley! Darcy!”
Before either man could properly greet him, a small squeal of delight sounded from across the room.
“Cousin Richard!”
Georgiana had risen so quickly that her chair nearly toppled behind her. She crossed the room in a rush that would have horrified most finishing-school mistresses.
Lady Anne opened her mouth, but whatever reprimand had been forming died upon her lips as she saw her daughter throw her arms around the colonel. Instead, she allowed a fond smile to cross her face.
Richard laughed warmly and embraced his ward. “Well! If this is the reception I am to expect, I shall visit far more often.”
Georgiana pulled back, her face bright with happiness. “I had no idea you were coming!”
“Nor had I, until three days ago,” he replied.
Lady Anne approached more sedately. Richard bowed to her with affection rather than ceremony. “Aunt Anne.”
She smiled gently and kissed his cheek. “How have you been, Richard?”
“Quite well,” he replied. “And grateful for your last letter. The recipe you enclosed caused considerable excitement in the barracks.”
Lady Anne’s brows lifted slightly. “Oh?”
“I persuaded the cook to attempt your almond cake,” he explained. “The results were… respectable.”
“Respectable,” Lady Anne repeated with amusement. “High praise indeed.”
Everyone chuckled, and she added with a small smirk, “Anything for my favorite nephew.”
Richard laughed outright. “A distinction of very limited competition, I fear,” he said. “As your only other nephew is my elder brother.”
He pinched his nose between his fingers, lifted his chin into the air with exaggerated hauteur, and declared in a pompous voice, “Viscount Reginald Fitzwilliam.”
The room erupted in laughter.
Richard dropped the pose and clapped Darcy firmly on the shoulder. “And you, cousin—congratulations on finally settling down in your old age.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow. “The two years I have upon you ought to inspire a greater respect for your elders.”
Bingley chuckled. “You have six years on me, Darcy, and I assure you I respect you immensely.”
“Oh?” Richard asked.
“Yes,” Bingley continued gravely. “Particularly his height. Though I no longer fear him as I once did.”
Georgiana blinked. “Fear my brother?”
Bingley grinned sheepishly. “Well, when we first met—”
Richard groaned. “Oh no. This story again.”
But Bingley was already warming to it.
“You see,” he explained to Georgiana, “your cousin here had just introduced us. I had been struggling rather dreadfully with society in London.”
“Because you were being preyed upon by every sharper and fortune-hunter in the city,” Richard added.
“I was merely… generous,” Bingley protested.
“Gullible,” Richard corrected cheerfully.
“In any case,” Bingley continued, “Colonel Fitzwilliam decided I required supervision. When he received his orders to go to the Continent, he introduced me to Darcy.”
Georgiana listened attentively.
“And Darcy,” Bingley said with mock solemnity, “was very tall. And six years older than I. He seemed terribly wise.”
Darcy snorted softly.
“But then,” Bingley went on, “we spent a Sunday evening together with absolutely nothing to do.”
Richard leaned against the mantel, already grinning.
“Darcy was in the foulest humor imaginable,” Bingley said.
“I was not.”
“You were positively grim,” Richard interjected. “You terrified the poor fellow.”
“I was terrified,” Bingley confirmed. “Until Richard began teasing him so mercilessly that Darcy was forced to laugh at himself.”
Darcy shook his head.
“And then,” Bingley concluded, “I realized he was merely a human being like the rest of us.”
Georgiana laughed softly, and even Lady Anne’s eyes shone with amusement.
Richard looked around with satisfaction. “Well then,” he said. “When do I meet the delightful ladies responsible for persuading my cousin to become respectable—and who will soon make Bingley family as well?”
Darcy could feel a grin spread over his face. “They were kind enough to request that we not call today. There are many final preparations underway.”
“So, I must wait?”
“Until the wedding breakfast tomorrow morning.”
Richard sighed dramatically. “I shall endure.”
At that moment the distant bell rang through the house.
“Time to dress for dinner,” Bingley said.
The company dispersed to change. Darcy was relieved, as it meant the day was almost over. He still had no idea if he would be able to sleep that night and did not look forward to finding out.
His valet had just left the room after tying his cravat when a knock sounded on his door.
“Come in.”
Richard entered, fastening the final button of his waistcoat. “Darcy,” he said casually, settling into a chair.
“I am glad you were able to come after all,” Darcy replied. “Your last letter made it sound as though you doubted you would be able to get leave.”
“When I explained to the general that it was because of your wedding, and I was the only one who would be able to represent the Fitzwilliam side—other than Lady Anne, of course—he was gracious enough to consent to two weeks.”
Darcy regarded him thoughtfully. “How are your father and brother?”
Richard made a face. “I have not spoken to either of them since Lady Weatherby’s ball two months ago.”
Darcy frowned. “You did not mention this. What happened?”
Richard leaned back, his expression darkening slightly. “They asked for my assistance in a small family enterprise.”
Darcy waited.
“They wished me to help… persuade… Georgiana to accept Reginald’s suit.”
Darcy’s expression hardened with visible fury. “They wished for your elder brother—who is only a year younger than myself—to marry my fifteen-year-old sister?”
“For her dowry,” Richard added flatly. “Matlock’s finances are considerably worse than he allows the world to believe.”
“They intended to marry her to her own cousin for money?”
“Precisely.”
Darcy’s jaw clenched. “Lady Anne will not be surprised,” he said at last. “She knows her brother too well.”
Richard looked sharply at him. “You intend to tell her?”
“Yes.”
“And Georgiana?”
Darcy met his gaze steadily. “Yes.”
Richard stared. “Good Lord, man, why?”
“They must be able to protect themselves. If they are unaware of the possibility of danger, then they cannot be cautious.”
Richard shook his head slowly. “Meeting Miss Elizabeth has certainly altered things. I scarcely recognize you.”
Darcy allowed himself a faint smile. “Elizabeth has changed many things.”
“Clearly.”
“Georgiana has grown more confident. Lady Anne as well.” Darcy paused. “Ramsgate unsettled them deeply. But Elizabeth’s influence has… strengthened them.”
Richard studied him for a moment, then nodded. “You are fortunate, then.”
“I know.”
There was a few moments of silence, then Richard leaned forward, slapped his hand on his knee, and rose to his feet. “Come, it must be dinner time, and I am greatly looking forward to eating something that is not the swill in the barracks.”
They rose together and moved toward the stairs. As they descended toward the dining room, Darcy casually said, “Speaking of estranged relations, George Wickham is also in the area.”
Richard raised an eyebrow. “That is certainly the coincidence. How is the wastrel?”
Darcy considered. “He seems… steadier than in former years. Still something of a rascal—but he takes life more seriously than he once did.”
Richard nodded thoughtfully as they entered the hall. Everyone else in the household was already present and clearly waiting for them, as the butler announced that dinner was served before Darcy had even taken two steps into the room.
Bingley laughed as he extended his arm to Lady Anne to escort her. “Perfect timing, Richard. Another moment later and Hurst might have begun eating the cushions on his chair.”
Following behind Bingley and Lady Anne, Mr. Hurst grunted something that might have been agreement. He did not even wait for his wife to finish sitting before finding his own chair and unfolding his napkin with great seriousness.