Chapter 14
“That went splendidly, do you not think?” Bramwell said a moment later. He reached for the wine.
“I had wondered at your behaviour at the ball,” Darcy said. “When we first saw my cousin, and you acted so oddly. But I did not believe you were…”
Fitzwilliam laughed. “He is entirely serious, I assure you. He forced me to call on her with him yesterday, and you would have thought he had never been in company with a pretty young lady before.”
Bramwell’s evident indignation was almost amusing. “How dare you? I was perfectly—”
“Idiotic,” his brother interjected. “You stammered, which is unusual enough, but do you not recall what you asked her?”
“What?” Darcy demanded. Although Rebecca had parents to protect her, she was still his cousin, and he would not permit anyone to misuse her in any way—even if that person was another relation and dear friend.
“It was just chitchat,” Bramwell said.
The colonel sniggered and to Darcy said, “He wanted to know every gentleman she had danced with and what she thought of them.” Turning to his brother, he asked, “Hoping to hear her say you were her favourite partner of the evening, were you?” Bramwell glared at him, and Fitzwilliam continued as though he did not notice.
“If you want to impress her, you will have to be less of a blundering fool.”
“What exactly are your intentions towards my cousin?” Darcy demanded.
“What do you think?” Bramwell retorted. “Were you not listening when I spoke to my father and mother?”
Darcy continued to regard him steadily, silently saying that he expected more of an answer. A glance at Fitzwilliam showed that he remained diverted by the situation.
After a moment, Bramwell huffed and his cheeks turned pink. “Very well. Since you evidently failed to notice, I have decided I…like her. A great deal. I intend to marry her.”
“Are you serious?” Darcy said. “Truly? You know I respect you, Cousin, but I also know you and how dearly you love to flirt with every pretty girl you encounter. Furthermore, we spoke just weeks ago about you being at peace with marrying Lady Cassandra.”
Bramwell dismissed this with a wave. He stood and slowly paced about the room, a glass of wine in his hand.
“That was before I met a lady that made me feel. Have you never been in love? No, do not bother to answer. You have not, Darcy, and as for you, Fitzwilliam, you fall in and out of love every other week.”
“I rather thought it was you who did that,” Fitzwilliam muttered.
As far as Darcy was concerned, they both did, although he had never supposed either of them would claim their sentiments went as far as love. Simply put, they liked the company of women, and were not above indulging in flirtations and the occasional intrigue.
“I shall not embarrass all three of us by speaking of my sentiments,” the viscount said.
“But, I assure you, I know what I am about. Once the hand of fate has shown you the person you are meant to be with, you know it. Unless you are being too stupid to accept it. I shall not fall into that trap. Rebecca Darcy is destined to be my wife.”
“You will have a time of it to secure Mother and Father’s approval, and you will have to do a great deal better with Miss Darcy.”
Bramwell stopped and regarded his brother, his expression pained. “Was I really that terrible? None of your jokes!”
With a sympathetic smile, Fitzwilliam admitted that he had been, and while Darcy listened with half of his attention, his companions discussed where the viscount had gone wrong and how he might win Rebecca’s love and convince their parents to accept her as a daughter-in-law.
Why was it that everything seemingly conspired to force Darcy to think of Elizabeth Bennet?
In the days following the dinner with Lord and Lady Romsley and his cousins, he had been unable to get her out of his mind.
Since seeing her at the ball, it had been difficult, but currently, it was all but impossible.
Part of him believed it was simply because he remained embarrassed by the assumptions he had made about her when they had first met and knowing he owed her an apology for how he had spoken to her in Dublin.
But part of him knew it was because he liked her.
In addition to all her fine attributes, being in her presence made him feel uncommonly well.
Bramwell was to be admired for deciding to pursue the lady he wanted rather than the one his parents had selected for him, but Darcy’s own position was not the same.
Rather, Rebecca’s position in life was superior to that of Elizabeth in important ways, and he could not easily forget it.
Besides, he told himself, I am all but certain she does not like or approve of me, not after the poor showing I made in Ireland. If she did like him, then perhaps…But that was not a day-dream he would dwell on.
They would see each other often while she remained in town, he imagined, and he would take advantage of her company when they did.
While he had anticipated finding a wife that autumn, the winter would do just as well.
In the coming weeks, he would spend time with Georgiana and on observing Bramwell as he pursued Rebecca to ensure he was behaving as he ought, including withdrawing if that is what she wanted.
After speaking to him, Darcy believed he was sincere about his intentions, although the haste with which he had decided Rebecca was the perfect lady for him was remarkable, and more than a little alarming.
Darcy had encouraged him to be cautious and take the next six to eight weeks to be sure his sentiments were as genuine as he believed them to be before even contemplating proposing.
Despite acknowledging that being in Elizabeth’s company added to his confused, conflicted feelings, Darcy brought Georgiana to call on Mrs Ryde, hoping to introduce her to Elizabeth. Fortunately, both ladies were home to greet them.
“Georgiana, you dear girl,” Mrs Ryde said warmly, holding out her hands, which Georgiana dutifully took.
“Though perhaps I ought to call you Miss Darcy. How grown up you are! It must be two years since we last saw each other, and I suppose there is a great difference between a girl of thirteen and a young lady of fifteen, almost sixteen, if I do not mistake your birthday.”
His sister blushed prettily and shyly admitted that, yes, her birthday was in just a few weeks.
“We must talk about how you will celebrate,” Mrs Ryde said. “I have always felt sixteen is an important moment in a young lady’s life, but do not ask me why, for I have no good explanation. When Lizzy—Oh, forgive me! I have forgot to introduce you.”
She looked between the young women, and Darcy was momentarily caught by the fond expression Elizabeth once again gave her friend.
There was such a depth of feeling in her eyes that anyone who saw it knew there was no pretence.
Other people might seek to ingratiate themselves to someone who was as wealthy and well connected as Mrs Ryde, but she never would.
No more would she claim to like me or Bramwell or any other person unless she sincerely did.
She would be an excellent friend for Georgiana, just as Rebecca was.
For that matter, he ought to ensure she spent more time with Marian Strachan too.
Although they had met, they were no more than acquaintances, and that only because of Miss Strachan’s friendship with Rebecca.
Darcy realised he had the opportunity to encourage her to choose her companions—and the ladies she took as role models—and he would take it.
He might not know Miss Strachan well, but Rebecca and his uncle and aunt Darcy all cared for her, which was enough for him.
Mrs Ryde made the introductions and invited them to sit; she rang for refreshments.
“I am very glad to make your acquaintance, Miss Darcy,” Elizabeth said. “I have heard a great deal about you, dating back to last spring when I met your brother and Viscount Bramwell.”
“Oh?” Georgiana said. She sat stiffly beside him.
Elizabeth nodded. “More recently, your cousin Rebecca has mentioned you many times. Did you know that I met her many years ago, although we have not seen each other since we were girls. I have greatly enjoyed renewing our friendship.”
Georgiana said nothing, only making a vague noise of interest, and Darcy attempted to catch her eye, wanting to encourage her to be more open.
“I selfishly begged Lizzy to spend the autumn with me,” Mrs Ryde said. “I suppose you understand how I know her?”
“We spoke of it last summer,” Darcy said. “Do you recall, Georgiana?”
She nodded.
Again, Darcy regarded her, then looked at the other ladies, feeling awkward at how reticent she was being.
She was not overly talkative—they were much alike in that way—but she knew how to politely take part in conversations, even if she did not have much to contribute.
At the moment, she kept her hands folded together in her lap and, from what he could tell, repeatedly glanced at Elizabeth without ever keeping a steady gaze on her, even when she spoke.
She listened as Mrs Ryde returned to her earlier subject and spoke about making a fuss when Elizabeth had turned sixteen—which was how he learnt her birthday was in early April, and had been just days before they met—and, as they drank tea and nibbled on lemon cake, discussed what books they were reading.
Darcy contributed to the latter subject, but his sister remained silent apart from making short responses when they were required.
Throughout the visit, his impatience grew, as did his disappointment; he only hoped it was not visible.
Elizabeth appeared unsure what to make of his sister, and she repeatedly looked between her and him; Mrs Ryde also appeared perplexed.
As soon as it was polite, he announced that they would depart.
“I am sure you have many demands on your time,” he said. “But I hope we shall meet again soon.” If his eyes strayed to Elizabeth as he spoke, he was sure only he knew it.
“I look forward to it,” Mrs Ryde said. Turning to Georgiana, she added. “I am greatly anticipating spending more time with you, now that we are both in town at the same time. I have many stories to share about your mother that you might like to hear, as well as your aunt Julia.”
“You are very kind,” Darcy said.
“Yes, thank you, Mrs Ryde,” Georgiana agreed. “I should like that.” She did not speak to Elizabeth, but she made an appropriate curtsey.
“It was lovely to meet you,” Elizabeth said, her tone understandably formal. “Mr Darcy, I wish you and your sister a pleasant day.”
Darcy offered her a smile, which she returned with a quick one of her own.