Chapter Five
Darcy had his valet retie his cravat three times before he was satisfied. The first arrangement was too severe, the second too flamboyant and the third only satisfactory, but Burke had glared at him so darkly that he dared not ask him to attempt it again.
"You have broken him," Fitzwilliam observed from the chair beside the hearth where he reclined lazily with one polished boot slung over the arm. "Another request and the poor man may resign."
Burke gave the colonel a measured look as he adjusted the fall of Darcy’s coat. "Are you looking for a valet, Colonel? You seem like an amiable gentleman to serve."
Fitzwilliam’s grin widened. "I would offer you a position in a heartbeat, my dear Burke. Alas, my batsman would never forgive me."
"Then I shall spare him the distress, sir," Burke replied. He stepped back to inspect Darcy one final time, his expression set as if challenging him to make any further changes. "Will there be anything else?"
Darcy glanced towards the looking glass and resisted the urge to touch his cravat. "No. That will be all. Thank you, Burke."
Darcy turned from the glass. "You encourage him."
"I respect a man who performs his duties under difficult conditions. I have seen men under active enemy fire who look less put upon than your valet this evening."
Darcy frowned at the reflection, attempting to smooth an errant curl with little success. "The arrangement was not quite right."
Fitzwilliam caught his eye in the looking glass, his own sparkling with mirth. "No, of course not. It is widely known that the perfect knot is an aphrodisiac of the highest order. Miss Bennet will forget all her objections in the face of its magnificent symmetry."
"I am not dressing for Miss Bennet," Darcy said, giving his cousin a look which ought to have ended the matter.
Fitzwilliam only settled more comfortably into the chair, plainly delighted by his discomfort. "Then Burke has suffered greatly for the benefit of Lady Catherine and her dusty friends."
Darcy ignored him, though the denial had sounded weak even to his own ears.
He had heard nothing from Elizabeth since pressing the letter into her hand while anger was still burning in her eyes.
A reply would have been impossible, and he had no right to expect one, but he had hoped for some sign that she had read it and understood even to some small degree what had driven his actions.
Each afternoon he had attended tea with Lady Catherine, only to find his attention wandering towards the door whenever footsteps sounded in the corridor.
Elizabeth had not appeared once. He endured his aunt’s opinions day after day, present only in body while his mind returned again and again to every word, look and misstep that had passed between himself and the woman who had so undone him.
Fitzwilliam lowered his boot from the arm of the chair and sat forwards, some of the amusement leaving his face. "Since we are both making ourselves ridiculous over women, there is something I ought to tell you before we go downstairs."
Darcy looked over his shoulder at his cousin. "That sounds ominous."
"I mean to open the ball with Anne."
Darcy’s fingers stilled at the fastening of his glove.
Lady Catherine had spoken of little else for the past week.
Anne would open the ball with Darcy and her long-cherished plans of bringing together the heirs of Pemberley and Rosings would be another step closer to fulfilment.
Darcy knew that an alliance between them would never come to pass and was almost certain that Anne had no wish for it, but his cousin’s statement still shocked him.
"Does Anne know of this intention? Why do you wish it? "
"It was her idea." Fitzwilliam smiled with a tenderness that altered Darcy’s understanding of the matter. The warm looks he observed between them in the past days flitted through his mind.
"She intends to feign a slight injury before the first set. Nothing alarming, just enough to make dancing with you appear unwise. I shall offer to take your place a few minutes later when she is recovered and you are safely partnered with another… perhaps a certain Miss B."
Darcy stared at him and ignoring the reference to Elizabeth said, "How long has this been arranged?"
"The injury? Since yesterday. The rest of it?
Rather longer." Fitzwilliam rubbed one hand across his jaw, his usual ease giving way to awkwardness.
"Anne and I have been half in love since we were teenagers.
Over the past few years, our feelings have only become stronger and we have come to an understanding. "
Darcy turned to face his cousin fully. "An understanding to marry?"
"When she comes into her inheritance. Until then, our aunt could make Anne’s life intolerable.
We decided it was better to wait until Anne is fully mistress of her own fortune before giving Lady Catherine anything definite to oppose.
Anne comes of age in a few months. I love her, Darcy, and I won’t be without her, that’s the top and bottom of it. "
Darcy paused for a moment. He had noticed a look or two between them, so he was not overly surprised. But a years-long love affair conducted by his happy-go-lucky cousin who had always disdained being ‘tied down’? He would never have imagined it. "And my aunt suspects nothing?"
"My dear Darcy, your aunt has been so occupied arranging Anne’s marriage to you that she has failed to notice Anne and I making plans right under her nose."
Darcy felt a reluctant smile pull at his mouth. "This explains a great deal, cousin. And I wish you both every joy. It will make my heart glad to see her out from under the influence of the old dragon downstairs."
Fitzwilliam laughed, the open, gregarious sound distracting Darcy from his own romantic misfortunes for a moment.
"That may be the least Darcy-like thing I have ever heard you say.
If this is the influence of the lovely Miss Elizabeth, then I advise you to do whatever is necessary to secure her.
How do you feel about a double wedding?"
Darcy ignored that. "What do you require from me?"
Fitzwilliam’s grin returned. "Only that you appear appropriately concerned when Anne injures herself, then allow another partner to take her place before she recovers.
" He smirked at his cousin, though Darcy did not acknowledge the knowing look.
"I’m sure we can find someone suitable if we look very, very hard. "
"Very well, I shall aid your cause."
Fitzwilliam rose and straightened his coat. "Cousin, have I ever told you that you are the very best of men?"
"Not often enough," Darcy grumbled as they left the room together.
???
Darcy stood in the grand entrance hall of Rosings and was overwhelmed by the effusion of decoration.
Flowers covered every conceivable surface, column and balustrade, while gold ribbon had been deployed in such quantities that it felt like being trapped inside a wedding cake.
His aunt stood at the head of the receiving line, her back ramrod straight and her expression that of a ruling empress awaiting tribute from her subjects.
Anne was at her side, dressed in a soft blue gown more flattering than any Darcy had ever seen her wear.
The colour brought warmth to her pale complexion, and her golden hair had been arranged more softly than usual, with a few delicate curls framing her face. She looked truly lovely.
Fitzwilliam appeared to think so too. He caught his betrothed’s eye from his place beside Darcy and offered her a broad smile.
Anne received it with a warmth that transformed her whole face before she turned to greet the next arrivals.
Darcy wondered how his aunt had remained blind to them for this long, though he supposed he had been similarly blinkered.
People saw what they expected to see. Had that not been one of the reasons for his disastrous proposal?
He had mistaken Elizabeth’s lively manner for a regard she had never felt.
In truth, she had thought him proud and quite possibly the worst man in England.
He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to dispel the vision of Elizabeth’s flashing eyes as she refused him in no uncertain terms.
The neighbourhood had begun to arrive in earnest. Carriages rolled one after another beneath the portico, depositing ladies in fine gowns of every colour who entered chattering eagerly, delighted by the rare opportunity to see inside Rosings after dark.
Gentlemen bowed over Lady Catherine’s hand while she received their compliments as no more than her due.
Voices and music swelled around Darcy until the grand hall seemed to press in on him from every side. He was suddenly far too hot.
He moved through the crowd, attempting to maintain an impassive expression, and offering the sort of polite nod that did not invite further conversation, but his attention returned again and again to the open doors.
Each time a carriage drew up, his heart lifted with humiliating eagerness.
Each time another family entered, it sank again.
What if she did not come? It was quite possible she had not believed a word of his letter and her heart had hardened against him.
She may have left the county entirely. The possibility had occurred to him repeatedly during the past week, though he had tried not to dwell upon it.
"She will not arrive any sooner because you glare at the entrance," Fitzwilliam murmured beside him.
"I am doing no such thing."
"No, of course not. You are having a splendid time among our aunt’s guests and have not spent the past ten minutes attempting to drag Miss Bennet’s carriage up the drive by force of will."
Before he could make a response, a footman stepped forwards and announced Mr and Mrs Collins. Then, as time seemed to slow around him, Elizabeth.