Chapter Fifty-One
The moment the two gentlemen got into the carriage, Mr. Darcy turned on his cousin. “What on earth do you mean by such a performance?”
“Performance?” Mr. Fitzwilliam stared at Mr. Darcy, bewildered.
“You call on a young lady at her home for the first time, and spend the entire call monopolising her in a corner!”
“This is bad?”
“Her mother was there to chaperone her, and she had no idea at all what the two of you were speaking about!”
“Darcy! As if I would speak profanity to a young lady?!” Mr. Fitzwilliam was shocked.
“No, of course you would not, it is just that you might be – well, propositioning her!”
“I can scarce believe my ears! You know me better than that, surely, cousin!”
“I do, of course, but Lady Lucas does not!”
There was silence.
“I see,” Mr. Fitzwilliam said, slowly. “So her mother might suspect me of nefarious intentions.”
Mr. Darcy heaved a great sigh. “Yes, exactly. Nefarious intentions.”
“I should go back and assure Lady Lucas that my intentions are completely honourable. Turn the carriage around, Darcy.”
“I most certainly will not! And what do you mean that your intentions are honourable?”
“Why, only that I will soon propose to Miss Lucas. Is that not what honourable intentions are?”
“Are you serious?”
“Never more so.”
“Your mother will – well, I truly cannot even imagine what Aunt Eleanor would say to such a union!”
“I suspect we will soon find out.”
“But – but why?”
Mr. Fitzwilliam turned to face Mr. Darcy. “You, of all people, ask me why?”
“Of all people? I have no idea what you are on about, Reginald, truly!”
“Well, just that I am in love with Miss Lucas. I thought you would understand, given that you are in love yourself.” Mr. Fitzwilliam stared at Mr. Darcy reproachfully.
“You are in love with Charlotte Lucas?” Mr. Darcy was astonished.
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“That I am in love?”
“Yes.”
“The usual signs, of course.”
“Which are?”
“My heart speeds up when I see her. Her voice is music. When our hands touch – ah, you did not see that, did you, Darcy! – then my skin tingles. The classic symptoms of love.” His voice was everything calm and rational.
Mr. Darcy shook his head in bewilderment. “Reggie, these are mere romantic fancies, dreamt up by young ladies with little else to think about!”
“They most certainly are not. Heavens, Darcy, what happened to your classical education? Did Plato not describe love as a divine transcendence that leads the soul to a climb towards truth and beauty? Did he not say that each of us was born with four arms, four legs and two faces, and Zeus split us in two, so that we might spend our lives searching for our other halves? And you wrote to Georgiana, telling her of your own symptoms, did you not?”
Mr. Darcy buried his face in his hands. So Georgiana had written to Aunt Eleanor!
Mr. Fitzwilliam’s next words confirmed it.
“She then wrote to my mother, who not being classically educated and therefore not having a proper understanding of being in love, became quite alarmed and sent me here. And a good thing, too, as it enabled me to meet my future wife.” With that summary, Mr. Fitzwilliam leaned back, smiling beatifically.
Then he added, “Tomorrow I shall visit her again.”