Chapter One The Master of Silent Agony #2
Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. "A surprise, nevertheless, sir."
Sir William, oblivious to the icy tension, clapped his hands together. "Capital! Capital! Old acquaintances reunited! How delightful. St James's could not boast a more fortuitous meeting!"
Darcy was just gathering the courage to step forward, to perhaps ask after her family or enquire about her journey, when a commotion erupted in the hallway.
The sound of boots, a booming laugh, and the distinct clatter of a sword scabbard hitting the doorframe preceded the tempest that was Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.
"Aunt!" Richard cried, striding into the room with the force of a cannonball.
He was resplendent in his regimentals, his brass buttons gleaming, his sandy hair slightly windblown.
"A thousand apologies! My horse threw a shoe, the blacksmith was a dolt, and I was forced to navigate the last mile on foot like a common vagabond! "
"Richard!" Lady Catherine scolded, though there was a rare indulgence in her tone. "You are far too loud. You have startled Miss Lucas, who was already trembling for reasons I cannot fathom. Sit down and let us have proper introductions."
"Of course, of course," Richard said, unbuckling his sword and handing it off to a bewildered footman. He turned, a charming, apologetic smile already forming on his lips. "Let us see who I have kept waiting—"
Richard halted abruptly.
He had turned to the centre of the room, and his eyes locked onto Miss Elizabeth. The words died on his lips. The charming smile slackened into awe. Darcy watched, horrified, as the teacup on the table next to his cousin was nearly knocked to the carpet by the jerky motion of Richard's arm.
"Good God," Richard breathed, ignoring Mr Collins, Sir William, and his own aunt.
Elizabeth blinked, caught off guard by the soldier's blatant, unblinking stare. "Sir?"
"Richard," Lady Catherine barked. "This is Mr Collins, my clergyman. And Sir William Lucas. And this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, a guest at the parsonage."
Richard clicked his heels together, executing a bow that was simultaneously military and theatrical.
When he straightened, his eyes had not left Elizabeth's face.
"Miss Elizabeth," he said, his voice dropping an octave with devotion.
"I had been told by my notoriously gloomy cousin that Kent was a dreary county.
I see now that he is not only gloomy, but blind. "
Darcy felt a vein begin to throb dangerously at his temple.
Elizabeth, who moments ago had looked at Darcy as though he were an unpleasant insect, was suddenly wearing an arch smile. "You are very kind, Colonel. Though I assure you, my presence rarely alters the local landscape."
"Then the landscape is a fool and needs to be reassessed!
" Richard declared. Without waiting for an invitation, he bypassed the empty chair near his aunt and dragged a stool across the carpet, planting it scarcely two feet from where Elizabeth was seated.
He sat down, leaning forward with a lovestruck sigh.
"Tell me, Miss Elizabeth, have you been in Kent long?
How have you survived the perilous boredom?
Please say you walk in the park. I am in desperate need of a guide who does not walk as slowly as Darcy. "
"I do walk, Colonel," Elizabeth laughed—a musical sound that made Darcy's chest ache with jealousy. "Though I fear I am no expert guide. I wander where the paths look interesting."
"Wandering is the highest form of exploration!" Richard proclaimed, gazing at her as though she had just revealed the secrets of the universe. "We must wander together. Tomorrow. I insist on it. I require protection from the local flora."
Darcy stood paralysed by the fireplace. Three minutes.
Richard had been in the room for exactly three minutes, and he had already secured a walking engagement, elicited a genuine laugh, and managed to place himself in Elizabeth's good graces.
Darcy had spent months trying to craft a single sentence that would make her look at him with a fraction of that warmth, and he had failed spectacularly.
He wanted to march across the rug, to haul his cousin up by his tailored epaulettes, drag him into the corridor, and demand that he cease this jovial siege.
She is the woman I have been silently pining for!
Darcy wanted to shout. You cannot walk in and charm her with your loud voice and your brass buttons!
"Colonel Fitzwilliam!" Lady Catherine's voice cracked like a whip, shattering the cosy bubble Richard had constructed around himself and Elizabeth.
"Why are you crowding the girl? She needs air!
And you are blocking my view of Sir William, who was just about to tell me about the paving stones at St James's. "
"My deepest apologies, Aunt," Richard said, his eyes remaining fixed on Elizabeth. He shifted his stool one inch to the left. "I wished to ensure Miss Elizabeth was properly welcomed."
"She is welcomed. I have welcomed her," Lady Catherine declared. "Now, Darcy. You are standing there like a statue. Come sit by me. Sir William, continue your story about the paving stones. I wish to know if they were granite. I only approve of granite."
Darcy was forced to move away from the fireplace, away from Elizabeth, and take a seat beside his aunt. He was trapped. He could not interrupt the conversation without drawing Lady Catherine's ire, nor could he risk exposing his own turbulent heart.
He sat in miserable silence, the drone of Sir William's paving-stone anecdotes washing over him, while just across the room, his cousin leaned closer to Elizabeth Bennet, whispering a jest that made her eyes sparkle with amusement.
War, Darcy decided as he gripped the arms of his chair, had officially been declared at Rosings.