Chapter Two
31 May, 1813
Darcy House, Mayfair, London
Fitzwilliam Darcy smoothed out the battered letter in front of him; what a fine metaphor it was for his own ravaged heart. Twice he had crumpled the thing, hurled it into the fire, and then hastily retrieved it. It was not his nature to behave so irrationally, but the woman he loved had just ended their engagement. He was undone.
Hours passed. Darcy wept, he drank too much brandy, he glowered at that cursed letter, he paced the room and internally raged at his ill-usage. How dare she cast him aside – she, who had once been the last woman in the world he could ever be prevailed upon to marry! He remained in his study, wallowing in his own misery, until the room grew as dark as his mood.
“Darcy!” Richard grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, jolting Darcy out of his anguished fog in a manner akin to drenching a sleeping man with cold water.
Darcy blinked as he stared at his cousin, who was grimacing as if he had spoken several times before Darcy had become sensible of his presence. “Richard? What are you doing here?”
Offense and concern warred in Richard’s gaze until, finally, the latter prevailed. “Keeping our dinner engagement, of course. I expected to find Georgiana in some distress, but – Darcy, has something happened?”
Georgiana. Darcy staggered a few steps backward and then sank into a chair. Today of all days, he had entirely forgotten about his poor sister. He shook his head in despair. “Too much has happened, Richard. These last two years have been naught but catastrophe, and for more than just myself. Ramsgate, your father, the fire… and now….” Darcy closed his eyes, turning his face away from Richard as one final tear slid down his cheek. He brushed it away, determined that it should be his last. With the miasma of misery finally ebbing away, he now despised himself for thinking only of his own grief, while his sister was lamenting a loss of her own.
When Darcy looked back at his cousin, Richard had lifted the ruined letter off the desk and began to read it. He regarded Darcy with raised brows. “I suppose Pemberley burning was the nail in the coffin for your betrothal, though I cannot think Lady Catherine has been helpful, either.”
Darcy scoffed bitterly. “And yet, Lady Catherine was the reason we reached such a happy understanding in the first place.”
“A happy understanding? You were never well-suited, Darcy.”
“I am in love with her, Richard. Even now, after such cruelty, I cannot believe she does not love me in return.” Darcy let out a heavy sigh, his posture slumping forward. “Even Pemberley burning to the ground did not devastate me half so much.”
“Then you are an idiot, Darcy.” Richard clenched the letter angrily in his fist. “She is parading around Sanditon, puffed up on her own self-importance, throwing herself at Sir Sidney Parker – who, by the by, is a tulip and a libertine – if she could really prefer him , she never deserved you. ”
Darcy sat up straight, his eyes fixing on Richard with sobering suspicion. “You could not have gleaned that from her letter.”
Richard poured himself a drink from the last of the brandy in the decanter. “She confided in Roberta, who is downstairs even now, condoling with Georgiana.”
“You brought Roberta?” Darcy groaned, gazing woefully at the empty decanter of brandy. “Surely you did not….”
“What has happened to your brain, Darcy? No, I have not told my wildly indiscreet sister that a year ago today Georgiana bore Wickham’s bastard in secret; the loss of your ancestral home was enough to justify Georgiana’s need of consolation. It is unaccountable to me that you should consider the defection of your foolish and frivolous fiancée to be comparable to such misfortunes as these, though certainly I ought to mind what my sister says to yours on that score. I intend to dine with the ladies, and I hope you will wrest yourself from this pitiful stupor to join us.”
Richard strode across the room and opened the door, stopping abruptly at the sight of Georgiana standing on the other side of it, her hand poised to knock. “Oh dear – I apologize if I am interrupting something serious….”
“It is I who should apologize for leaving you alone with my interminable sister,” Richard drawled. “I hope her nonsense has not been a bother.”
Georgiana smiled feebly. “Her conversation has been a pleasant distraction, since we were not able to attend her wedding, but I fear Cook shall be quite cross if there is any further delay of dinner.”
Darcy stood, assessing his sister as she struggled to maintain her composure. Somewhere in Scotland, her daughter was celebrating her first birthday with the family that had adopted her, and Georgiana’s fidgeting betrayed how her memories of the babe still pained her. Like himself, he was sure his sister would consider the ruin of Pemberley to be nothing in comparison to the loss of one so beloved. No matter how fine a meal awaited them, the conversation of their cousin Roberta must be paltry consolation after so much sorrow; he owed it to her to be a more amiable companion.
They had been getting along well enough together in Derbyshire; since the fire in March, the siblings had moved into an empty cottage on the grounds of Pemberley, and the simplicity of their new accommodations had suited them surprisingly well. They were both reticent creatures, best pleased by the quiet pursuit of their own interests – music, reading, art, and horseback riding were amongst the endeavors they shared in a serenity that transcended the chatter and clatter of London. Separately, Darcy had estate matters to attend to, the greatest of which was the rebuilding of his ancestral home, while Georgiana privately relished correspondence with her many Darcy and Fitzwilliam cousins.
It was only during times of emotional upheaval that the pair of diffident siblings were not in perfect harmony, when the unavoidable commotion of life caught up with them. Darcy reconsidered his impulse to retreat and offered his sister a smile. “We are coming presently, dearest. As it happens, I have just begun to consider a new scheme for pleasant distraction ; you enjoyed our sojourn to Lymington last summer better than your stay at Ramsgate the previous year, did you not?”
Georgiana’s eyes sparkled. “I always enjoy the seaside very much, William. Pray, do you mean to suggest we journey to Sanditon?”
Richard attempted to conceal a snort of laughter with a cough; he eyed Darcy with skeptical bemusement. Darcy ignored his cousin’s cynical mischief and gave his sister an encouraging nod. “Would you like that?”
“Cousin Roberta told me….” Georgiana had spoken at the same instant. She fell silent and blushed before answering his question. “I would be delighted to see Sanditon for myself. Roberta has repeated all the praise she has heard of it, and the King himself was so enchanted by the place. And of course, I should be happy if you were to find the visit to be satisfactory, William.” This last had been said in her usual dulcet tone, but Darcy understood the upturning of her lips; he comprehended her sentiments on his betrothal.
Richard crossed his arms in front of his chest, his expression sardonic in the face of Darcy’s hastily contrived scheme. “I hope I am invited. I have little interest in Darcy’s purpose, though it is generous of you to wish him success, Georgie. No, I shall be entirely at your disposal, just as I am this evening.”
Georgiana had looked demurely gratified before, but now she truly brightened. “Of course you must accompany us, Richard. You will make us merry whether we like it or not, after we have been so dreary ever since – well, for so very long. Only… shall we be obliged to invite Roberta?”
“I certainly hope not, else I shall be obliged to hurl myself into the sea.” Richard grinned broadly before gesturing toward the corridor. “She has been left to her own devices for too long already, and if we do not get into the dining room soon, I daresay she will begin snooping about the house.” Richard clapped Darcy on the back and muttered under his breath as they followed a few paces behind Georgiana. “As if anything in this family is ever a secret, eh?”
Darcy repaid his cousin’s insolence with the wary shake of his head that Richard appeared to expect; inwardly, however, Darcy felt himself saved from the precipice of oblivion. His cousin may have meant to mock him, but had instead thrown Darcy a lifeline as he was drowning.
All would soon be as it ought to be, as he had long envisioned his future must be. Reconstruction at Pemberley was underway, though he hoped the mending of his broken heart would not be such a protracted endeavor. Even Georgiana’s depressed spirits must surely improve at such a lauded seaside destination. She would resume the serenity that Ramsgate had shattered, and he would win back the woman who had bewitched him body and soul.