Chapter 2 #2
Dear Lord, I am losing all traces of reason! His feelings had not been so acute before seeing her again in Lambton. But having her near had made the attraction to her, the danger she posed to his equilibrium, so much stronger than it had been the previous month.
Rebecca leapt into the conversation and insisted Elizabeth sit with her and Georgiana.
Where Rebecca went, so did Viscount Bramwell, Darcy’s eldest cousin, and Colonel Fitzwilliam and Freddie followed.
Darcy joined the younger people once he was assured the older trio were comfortably seated near the fire.
His cousins, sister, and Elizabeth were already chatting easily when he approached an empty chair and sat. She glanced his way, then returned her attention to Rebecca, who had evidently asked about her.
Elizabeth laughed. “I am not sure what to say to such a broad question. Has Mr Darcy told you much about my family?”
“No,” Fitzwilliam said. “Only that he met you in Hertfordshire when he was staying with Mr Bingley.”
After telling them a little about Longbourn and her sisters, Elizabeth added, “I do not suppose there is anything extraordinary, or even all that interesting, about us. We are like many other country families, simply living our lives as best we can, complaining about the weather and gossiping about each other more than we ought.”
Her words and tone, which were teasing, caused some laughter.
Even Georgiana giggled, pressing her lips together and lowering her chin as though embarrassed.
Darcy regretted her diffidence, but he was glad she was amused.
As his cousins made further enquiries of Elizabeth, he watched Georgiana for a few minutes, his heart swelling with pleasure to see how eagerly his sister listened to her, smiling and wide-eyed, as she recounted a tale of a particularly muddy walk across the fields.
Then Darcy realised she was speaking of the morning she went to Netherfield to see Miss Bennet, who had taken ill while visiting Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley.
“I applaud your dedication to your sister,” Fitzwilliam said. He was a little too eager for Darcy’s liking; his cousin was sitting at the edge of his armchair, leaning towards Elizabeth.
I should have expected nothing different!
Fitzwilliam has always appreciated a beautiful lady.
And Elizabeth was more and more beautiful each time he saw her.
Still, Darcy had not anticipated that the colonel would…
What? Flirt with her? He was on the verge of doing so, and Darcy would not permit it.
Though how he would prevent it was a mystery.
“As do I,” Freddie said. “Would you do the same for me, Rebecca, or did Mama convince you such behaviour would be indecorous?”
The question, asked more as a joke, cast a shadow over them. Freddie immediately paled and murmured an apology, and Bramwell lay a hand on Rebecca’s arm, studying her closely. She smiled weakly and shook her head.
“We should not be afraid to mention her,” she said to her brother.
Elizabeth looked from person to person, and, quick witted as she was, Darcy assumed she understood what had happened. Nevertheless, when her eyes were on him, he said, “My aunt, their mother, died late last year. An accident.”
“Oh, I am so sorry,” she said with a sincerity he knew was not feigned.
Rebecca smiled. “She would be pleased to know Freddie and I are here, with our friends and making a new one. Christmas is not called the Festive Season for nothing. It is good for Papa too.” She looked towards where Frederick sat with Mrs Gardiner and Miss Pratt; they were speaking easily, Frederick appearing content with his situation.
“And I declare that is enough of that. Let us return to more amusing topics.” Bramwell studied Rebecca as he spoke, and across from them, Darcy noticed that her smile became softer.
Why do I think we shall have a wedding in the family soon?
Darcy’s eyes sought Elizabeth. Her curls swayed delightfully as she and his cousins continued their conversation.
Vaguely, he heard Georgiana’s voice. That, too, gladdened him since she had been excessively shy since the previous summer when she had almost eloped with George Wickham.
Darcy said a quick prayer of thanks that he had managed to prevent the disaster.
The memory of that reprobate recalled Darcy to the ball at Netherfield and dancing with Elizabeth.
That had not gone as he had expected, and they had exchanged angry words about Wickham.
It only just occurred to him to wonder what the scoundrel had told her to make her defend him.
To be sure, Darcy could guess. Most of the time, he did not care what people thought of him or that his once-friend was prone to spread malicious lies about their business.
The people who knew Darcy understood that Wickham was not trustworthy or gentlemanly, despite his outward appearance; those who did not were people whose opinion mattered little to him.
But it was different with Elizabeth; her opinion of him did matter—a great deal.
Suddenly, he wanted—needed!—to learn what the degenerate man had said to her so that he might counter the accusations with facts.
How he would accomplish this, he did not know.
And it is not the occasion to think of it! Enjoy this time with her and your family, he ordered himself, then turned his attention to doing just that.