Chapter 16
Richard
Richard spent hours outside in the cold, watching Darcy House.
He was sober; if he had asked for entrance into the house, and had been admitted—he was always admitted—he would have drunk his weight in alcohol. But he needed to remain sober.
Striking his cousin had changed everything. As he watched the man he loved and respected the most in the world—more than his father, and certainly more than his elder brother—walk away from him without a word….
Well, he had felt shattered.
He heard the other men mutter and knew they condemned what he had done. Some of them, likely, despised him, at least temporarily. Good, that was what he deserved. He had acted like a cur.
And so he waited and got stiffer and colder.
When he finally saw Darcy’s carriage, he strode up so that his cousin would see him as he alighted.
Darcy just stood there. Dammit, he looked strong and whole and perfect, even just standing there.
Richard said, “Darcy, I apologise a hundred times for striking you. I apologise a thousand times for making Miss Bennet cry. I apologise a million times for allowing my envy to make my behaviour as ugly as my emotions have been.”
Darcy nodded once. Always a man of few words, he said, “Come in. We can speak in warmth; you look cold.”
Richard nodded back.
In Darcy’s study, Richard refused the alcohol his cousin offered him. Darcy looked surprised, and Richard admitted, “I have been indulging far too much of late. It has made things worse even though I temporarily felt better.”
Darcy said, “I take it that you did not truly mean for your mother to find a match for Miss Bennet? You were, even then, in love with her?”
Richard gulped. He had not spoken to anyone about this, other than a few courtesans.
He said, “I fell in love even as I told myself that I could not, I should not fall in love. There seemed to me no possible way the two of us could wed. We would have no home, little money. But…I just could not stay away. I called on her every single day for a while, telling myself we were just friends.”
“Miss Bennet informed me that she deliberately alerted you to her circumstances the first time you called, and that you made it obvious that you already knew she had only a small dowry and would inherit very little. She also told me that you forthrightly acknowledged the fact that you could not court or marry her.”
“Correct. My head dictated that I could not have her, and I kept my behaviour reined in because of that truth, but my heart dictated that I continue to see her, to torture myself.”
“What I do not understand, Richard, is why you would make the torture worse by having your mother become a matchmaker on her behalf.”
“Rather a stupid move on my part, but you cannot deny that it worked to your benefit.” Richard shook his head ruefully, and then he said, “From what I saw, I was certain Miss Bennet was not ready for any one man to regularly call on her, let alone for a man to escort her to events. She had quite a few men calling on her. Several were heirs, at least one was the eldest son of an earl. These were very eligible men, but she was merely courteous to them, and her friends were steering at least some of the suitors away from further steps because, they said, she was not ready.”
“Ahh.”
“So when her uncle asked me not to call further, because both she and I had declared that there could be no match, but additional calls would make it appear as if there was an dishonourable attachment…I panicked. Can you imagine what you would feel, or do, if your access to Miss Bennet was threatened?”
Darcy paled at the thought.
Richard hurried on, explaining that, if Miss Bennet truly was not ready for courtship with anyone, having her involved with his own mother in an honourable way would ensure that he would still be able to see her.
“And,” Darcy said softly, “it turned out that she was indeed ready for courtship, to your surprise and my delight. I am sorry, Cuz, that you have been so tortured, but you must know that others see you and Miss Bennet as a mismatch, and not because of dowries or estates. Your mother and Miss Bennet herself have said as much.”
Hanging his head, Richard said, “To fall for her was stupid. I know that. But the heart wants what the heart wants.”
“But you should not impose that want on her. Because her heart does not want yours.”
Richard nodded. “I know that, too. I knew that before this morning’s awful conversation, and because I presented myself as not knowing it, she explained it to me in horrific detail.
It seems that she would love you if your circumstances were mine, and mine yours.
I believe that she would love you even if you had a hump on your back and a bald spot on your head. ”
Darcy said, “I am able to imagine your pain, Richard. I would suffer terribly if I had known her first, but she loved you, not I.”
Nodding, Richard said, “But there are other important people in life. I must tell you that, when I saw you walk away from me…after I— Well, I remembered that I could not lose you, too. That makes it sound as if I ever had her, which I did not, but we were friends, and my stupidity ruined that and perhaps ruined the friendship you and I share, as well, and I….”
Realising with horror that he had tears in his eyes, Richard turned, paced, and spoke without looking at his cousin: “I would do anything to attempt to mend what I tore apart today.”
“I forgive you, Richard.”
Richard could not believe that Darcy could so easily forgive him.
He whirled and looked at the man, and all the accolades he had ever heaped at his cousin’s feet seemed inadequate to what he saw that night.
He…was very simply a good man. A wonderful master and landlord, everyone in Derbyshire said.
The best of brothers, Georgiana often opined.
Highly accomplished, the record books at Angelo’s and Cambridge attested.
The handsomest and most eligible bachelor in England, the ladies of the ton whispered.
But more important than any of that was that he was honest and principled and generous and merciful.
His eyes swimming with tears again, Richard said in a rough voice, “I cannot believe I am crying. I never cry.”
“I cried tonight as well. In front of Miss Bennet and her aunt and uncle.”
Darcy opened his arms—another thing that never happened—and Richard strode to him and hugged him, clapping him on the back after a second, and pulling away a moment later with the words, “Thank you, Darcy.”
“I warn you, you need to apologise to Miss Bennet.”
“I know. And I need to put my life straight. I should take note of your habits and attempt to be more like you. Perhaps I will become a man worth loving, the next time I meet someone like Elizabeth.”
“Elizabeth?” Darcy’s voice was a growl.
“Forgive me. I mean Miss Bennet. I have thought of her by her Christian name for almost as long as I have known her, even though she never gave me permission to address her in that manner. I know, I know; you would never do such a thing. And I really do mean to strive to be more like you.”
“I have to admit, I started to think of Miss Bennet as Elizabeth tonight. There was something about my tears, and her acceptance of them, of me, that made me feel closer than ever.”
Richard began to pace again. “I believe that I should write an apology and send it to Miss Bennet’s uncle so I do not impose my presence on her. If, after reading my apology, she would allow a face-to-face meeting—with you present, of course—then I could apologise in person.”
Darcy approved the idea, and Richard said, “If she does not wish to see me, I will make myself scarce. I hope eventually I will be able to be a good friend to both of you. But I know I have to earn that right.”
“Will you be able to be in Miss Bennet’s presence without feeling tortured?” Darcy asked.
“Now that I have seen how very important it is to everyone, especially me, that I accept she could only ever be a friend, I should be able to cope. I can cope with forty-eight hours without sleep, seven days without a shower, thirty hours without food. I should be able to do this. Particularly now that I am resolved, and as long as I am circumspect with alcohol.”
“And one more thing, if you will allow me to make a suggestion.”
Richard nodded. “Allowing you to suggest something to me is the very least I could do, under these circumstances.”
Darcy said, “I would suggest also going easy on the visits to Madame Bertin’s, if that is still your current favourite bagnio. I know you do not wish to live that part of your life as I do mine, but I have three points to make on this topic.”
Richard laughed, too loudly he supposed as he noticed his cousin flinch a bit.
He said, “Darcy, I would like to emulate you more, but I am not certain that I will ever become the kind of person that, in conversation, gives a numbered list of reasons why an idea is worthwhile. You really should have been a barrister.”
Darcy narrowed his eyes and asked, “Is that a shushing tactic, even though you just said that you would hear my suggestion?
“Forgive me. Please give me the first one.”
“Firstly, I am convinced that most men will not be as earnest as they should be in seeking out the woman that best suits them as a lifelong partner if they are constantly sampling others.”
Richard wished to scoff but held off, remembering that he was the one in disgrace, and Darcy was the one who had won the heart that he and other men had failed to capture.
“Secondly,” Darcy continued, “I feel that there is a danger of you imagining that a courtesan is Miss Bennet, and that pretending would make your feelings for her even stronger. It may even be that a courtesan would not mind, for a price, entering into a sort of shared delusion.”
At that point, Richard was thoroughly embarrassed, as that was exactly what had happened every single night since he had met Elizabeth—that is, Miss Bennet.
“Thirdly, this morning Miss Bennet informed me that she does not hold with married men having mistresses, or seeing courtesans, or having other romantic encounters outside of marriage. You should have seen her—the proud lift of her head, as she spoke—I got the impression that she would feel quite ill about even unmarried men doing this sort of thing very often. And if this is the way Miss Bennet feels, I imagine that many other ladies of quality feel the same, even if they are unwilling to express their opinion.”
Richard gaped. “You spoke of my use of brothels with Eliz—with Miss Bennet?”
“No, I did not. She spoke to me of the prevailing attitudes about these matters, and she told me how important it is to her that I agree with her ideals. She said….” Darcy paused, eyes closed, and Richard knew from experience that Darcy was accessing his powerful memory.
He waited patiently to hear whatever Miss Bennet had said.
“She said that there is something about the way you behave around all women that made her feel certain that you have adopted the customary—brothels and mistresses and other affairs—as simply how things always have been, always will be, and even should be.”
“Good God, I do not know Miss Bennet at all, do I?”
Richard felt amazed at the topics of which his cousin and Elizabeth—he must remember that she is Miss Bennet!—had spoken. They were not even married, and they already spoke of these intimate issues!
Darcy said, “You know how friendly and kind she is, how witty and intelligent, how opinionated and charming; but, no, I suppose there are many things you do not know about her. That said, there are many other ladies to learn more about as well. A new friend she was telling me about, earlier this week, is Miss Cartwright, who we met at the musicale. If Miss Bennet thinks she is an interesting woman, a woman worthy of befriending, I imagine that Miss Cartwright is quite wonderful.”
Richard agreed in principle, and he asked Darcy if he could spend the night. He had much to think about, and he would rather keep safe inside Darcy House. Remaining inside meant that the temptation of going elsewhere “on the way” to his bed was non-existent.
Darcy agreed and stuck out his hand, much as he had at the end of their fencing match, hours before.
Shamefaced all over again about his ugly behaviour earlier, Richard shook his worthy cousin’s hand and said good night.