Chapter 5 Somehow, Still Thursday #2
“You are correct—it is much worse. Lady Catherine has been raised to know better, but she covers her bad behavior with wealth and a title. G as well. She was young and sheltered, but we both know she knew what she was doing was wrong. She has you to thank for rescuing her. It is hardly Miss Bennet’s fault that she has no brother to inherit or that her mother is silly. At least the woman means well.”
Darcy huffed out a breath and paced to the window and back again. He repeated the action several times before coming to stand before his cousin. Colonel Fitzwilliam sat in the winged chair, one foot crossed over his knee, looking for all the world as if nothing of import was happening.
“It is not—”
The colonel looked at him expectantly.
“She is not, they, I—” Darcy groaned and paced off again.
Fitzwilliam was about to pick up a book from the side table when his cousin appeared before him again, his hair bedraggled from running his hands through it.
“Lady Catherine may not behave as she ought, and I am sorry for it, but she is wealthy and titled, and that allows her to be eccentric with less censure. That is the material point.”
“Darcy, you either love the lady or you do not. That is the material point.”
Darcy’s mouth dropped open and he stared at his cousin a full minute before pacing off again.
He continued to move about the room, occasionally mumbling to himself or tugging his cravat.
His hair was completely disheveled and his cousin had read an entire chapter in his book before Darcy returned to the chair before the fire.
He sat stiffly and looked straight ahead, every ounce of dignity he possessed writ on his face. “I love her,” he said solemnly.
“Wonderful! How do you wish to proceed?”
“I have no idea.” Darcy slumped back in his chair as the colonel laughed and laughed until he was red in the face.
An hour later, the cousins were still debating how best to court a lady such as Miss Bennet.
“Why cannot you acknowledge I am right?” cried the colonel.
“How can you know her better than I? I am the one in love with her, not you.”
“Who has courted more ladies?”
Darcy huffed.
“And who is desired for the pleasure of his company and not the size of his coffers?”
Darcy rolled his eyes.
“Trust me, Cousin. I would not lead you astray.”
Darcy gave him a doubtful look, then sighed and uncrossed his arms. “Very well. I will try it your way.”
“It is not so very hard, truly. Merely think of the things you have wished to say to her, the things you hope to do together. A little affection can help move things along. Look into her eyes, kiss her hand. Stop holding yourself so rigidly! If you wish to take her hand, there is nothing saying you cannot.”
“Only decorum and propriety,” grumbled Darcy.
“That is why you ask to court her. She will know from the very beginning your intentions are honorable. You are not trifling with her. There is no reason to hold back all of your thoughts and wishes. How will the lady ever fall in love with you if you do not let her know you!”
Darcy huffed again. He felt he had done nothing but grumble and huff and sigh for the last two hours. He was like a horse in the stable, and Fitzwilliam the groom determined to break him. And just like the horse, everyone would be happier if he simply relented and accepted the inevitable.
“Very well. It will not be easy, but I will attempt it.”
Fitzwilliam brought his hands together for one jarring clap. “Excellent! It will be easier than you think, I am sure of it. You can be pleasant and witty when you choose to be. You simply need to choose to be so with Miss Bennet.”
Darcy nodded and looked out the darkened window. “What if I cannot?” he asked quietly, doubt creeping into his voice. “What if she does not come to care for me?”
Fitzwilliam squeezed his shoulder and said kindly, “She will. You know how to love well. Show her that, and she won’t be able to help it.”
“Are you certain?”
“I am. Miss Bennet is a warmhearted lady. She will respond to genuine affection. You just have to show it to her.”
Darcy nodded. He hated how unsure and faltering he felt.
It was as if they were children again and Fitzwilliam was teaching him how to aim for a bird or reload his powder.
When he finally quit fighting it, he enjoyed the reversion to their childhood roles.
Fitz was older and wiser, and Darcy was eager to learn. It was refreshing.
“Let us practice.”
“What?” replied Darcy, aghast.
“Practice. You have admitted yourself that you are unskilled in conversing with ladies.”
“How will speaking with you improve my skills?”
“I will pretend to be a lady, of course!”
Darcy stared at his cousin with mounting dread. Colonel Fitzwilliam was enjoying this entirely too much and Darcy was in no mood to be his cousin’s entertainment. Finally, he rolled his eyes, sighed, and said, “How do we begin?”
“You are meeting her on a walk?”
“Yes.”
“Then we shall pretend we are meeting in the grove.” He moved to the window, then turned to stroll towards his cousin. “Mr. Darcy! Good morning,” said the colonel, his voice pitched unnaturally high.
Darcy cringed. “Good morning, Miss Bennet.”
“That will never do, Darcy! You must at least appear happy to see the lady. No one wants to look at that grumpy expression across the dinner table every night.”
“I am not as good a play-actor as you, Fitz. When I look at you, I see my cousin, not Miss Bennet.”
“You must use your imagination,” replied the colonel with a stern look.
Darcy sighed and rubbed his hand across his eyes. “Very well. Good morning, Miss Bennet. I hope you are feeling better.”
“I am quite well, thank you.”
Fitzwilliam stared at his cousin, waiting for Darcy to speak next.
“Uh, may I walk with you?”
“You may.”
They strolled the perimeter of Darcy’s chamber before Fitzwilliam turned to his cousin in exasperation.
“Really Darcy, it is no wonder the woman was not expecting your declaration! If you cannot speak to her, how is she to know you hold her in high regard?”
Darcy huffed. “I am not like you. I do not flirt with every woman under eighty and I do not have your way with words.”
“I am not suggesting you behave like me, but that you at least attempt to talk to the poor girl. She likely has no idea what to make of you.”
Darcy looked at him sharply. She had said she did not know him at all…
“Did you know she thought you dislike her?”
“What? How could she think such a thing?” Darcy looked horrified.
“Because you act like this! Silent and forbidding. Did you even speak on all those walks you joined her on?”
“Of course I did!”
“Beyond basic pleasantries?” asked Fitzwilliam with a doubtful expression.
“Yes!” Darcy was indignant. “I spoke of,” he hesitated, “well, we talked of Rosings, and Kent, and springtime.”
“Springtime! A woman does not fall in love with a man who talks to her of the weather.”
Darcy’s face reddened and his lips drew in a hard line.
Colonel Fitzwilliam softened his voice. “You will have to try harder, Cousin. And unbend. She is worth it, is she not?”
Darcy sighed. “Very well. I shall try.”
Fitzwilliam clapped his shoulder. “I am off to bed. Best of luck to you in the morning, Cousin. I have every faith in your success.”
Darcy told him goodnight and prepared for bed, wondering what he would say to Miss Bennet in the morning, and how on earth he would go about showing her that he loved her and was utterly devoted to her without frightening or angering her.
It would require delicacy, something he had never excelled at, but Fitz was right.
He had to try—he had to show her how he felt, or he would lose her.
And that was the worst possible outcome.
He could withstand a little embarrassment if it meant having her for his own.