Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Darcy, frustrated by his inability to apologize to Elizabeth and alternately confident she was falling in love with Mr. Cage and convinced she was accepting the attentions of every other man in England, had endured a fortnight in London’s grasping society without speaking to her again.
As he had watched her from across a room or over a centerpiece or separated by only two or three people, he had chanted unthinkingly to himself, connections, fortune, birth.
Connections, fortune, birth. It had become a spell to cast away the demons that were plaguing him unrelentingly.
Watching her in the dim light of his theater box, he thought it again, connections, fortune, birth.
This time, though, he could watch her uninterrupted for an entire act, and then another.
He had struggled against the part of himself that wanted to speak to her between the acts or go sit in the vacant chair beside her.
Connections—why did her connections matter again?
She could continue to visit her uncle—the one with the estate—and her cousins, and she would embrace the connections his own esteemed family brought.
He was the grandson and nephew of an earl, after all.
His own connections would gain them admittance to any society function.
Once she was accepted, it would hardly matter if she wished to visit her tradesman uncle again.
After all, he was friendly with Bingley at no harm to his own reputation.
He was all but rising from his seat when the mantra intruded again. Connections, fortune, birth.
Fortune was not a reasonable reason to reject a woman, either, he decided.
Not for him. It was even less important than were connections.
It would have benefited his estate to replace Georgiana’s dowry with his wife’s, but it was wholly unnecessary.
Pemberley’s fortune, in land and investments, would remain unharmed by a dowerless wife.
Birth, though. He would not be able to hide her parentage from his relations or the rest of society.
His wife would be scrutinized and must not be found wanting in her birth.
She absolutely must be a gentlewoman. His shoulders slumped as he continued to gaze longingly at the side of her face.
A hint of a smile proclaimed she was absorbed in the performance, which made him smile despite his dejection.
He had ensured she would be of the party when inviting Bingley to use his box this evening. Like his desire to please her with the menagerie excursion two years prior, he would do anything to make her happy, to feed her curiosity, to ensure she was given every advantage.
He may not be able to give her Pemberley, but he wanted no other woman as its mistress. He had seen enough of the more suitable options in the past two weeks to know he would not soon replace Elizabeth in his affections.
So, he drank in her presence while he could.
For one more act, he could be near her in this box and watch as her small shoulders shook in silent laughter and her dark curls bobbed against her ear.
For one more act, he could imagine he would approach her at the end of the performance and request permission to call on her the next day.
For one more act, he could pretend she would welcome his addresses and would make her home with him at Pemberley. For one more act…
Two days later, he and Georgiana traveled to Kent, where they suffered their Aunt Catherine’s company for Easter.
They had returned to London in time for him to take his sister to the opera before she resumed school.
In a few months, she would be fifteen, and she had been anticipating her first performance throughout their stay in Kent.
Darcy had seen Bingley since returning to town, as well, but his friend had now left for Oxford.
Miss Bennet had also left London, which could mean seeing Elizabeth less frequently, but it was not certain.
If he departed now, he could return for his sister in June.
He was making plans to decamp to Pemberley early once again when his cousin showed up.
Lieutenant-Colonel Fitzwilliam indicated he had just returned to England and would leave again in a few days.
“So soon? Are you back to Spain already?”
Richard hesitated before mumbling an affirmative. Darcy knew his cousin well.
“You are not going to Spain at all. Why would you mislead me? Where are you going?”
“I am at the mercy of my commanding officer, as you well know,” Richard said.
“You and your vague replies,” Darcy huffed.
His mood had deteriorated since Georgiana and Bingley had gone to their respective schools, and his cousin was not helping.
“Why can you not tell me where you will be next week? Either you will be in England, or you will not. Is it such a matter of secrecy that your cousin—almost a brother, you have said many a time—cannot know?”
His cousin only furrowed his brow, so Darcy continued. “If you already have your next orders, as you indicated, why can you not tell me at least when you will go?”
“Darcy, I…you must know I wish I could tell you. You already know more than my father does.”
“How can nothing be more than he knows?” Darcy knew he should not be angry, but he missed his cousin. He felt so alone of late.
“You at least know there is something I cannot say. He accepts my vague answers and wishes me luck.”
Darcy hung his head. “Forgive me. I know I am not making this easy for you. If you are to leave again, I will resume my plan to return to Pemberley. I am tired of London.”
“You have only just arrived! You will be lonely in Derbyshire with Georgiana at school. Perhaps even when she returns. Why have you spent so little time in London since your father died? It cannot be good for you to be so much alone.”
Darcy sat up and looked at Richard for a moment, seeing the concern all over his face. He sighed heavily, tipped his head back and slumped lower in his soft leather chair.
“What is it?” his cousin asked gently.
“Nothing. I merely have no wish to be in London at present.”
“So, it is not only overwhelming responsibilities at Pemberley that have you so sullen?”
Darcy huffed out a bitter laugh. “Responsibilities never end, but I have them fairly well managed by now.”
“Then why do you avoid town? You seem almost like…do you remember the last time I saw you, last year, you were in the sulks over some girl?”
Darcy coughed on nothing and could not stop, sitting up straight to catch his breath. Richard brought him a drink.
“So, it is another woman.”
“No.”
“I am sure of it.”
“Well, you are wrong. It is not another woman.”
“No! Darce! It is the same woman? You told me nothing before—and we will discuss later why it is acceptable for you but not me to hold secrets—but now you must share. I have to know why my favorite cousin who is practically a brother must avoid the whole of London for one single woman…for years!”
“I have not avoided London for years. I have been here many times in the past few years. In case you did not notice, we are in London at this moment.”
“Come on, Darcy. Tell me about her. Who is she?”
He proceeded to tell his cousin of the almost-sixteen-year-old girl he had met more than two years earlier and how he had thought of her only as a child and Georgiana’s friend, though she was accomplished and intelligent even then and was now undeniably beautiful.
“Darcy, have you forgotten how old our own mothers were when they married?”
“Of course not, and that is the point,” he countered.
“What do you mean? Your mother was barely seventeen on her wedding day. Mine was eighteen, but she and my father had been betrothed for nearly two years.”
“And were those love matches? Did our mothers have a choice in the matter?” Darcy demanded.
“Hmm. So, it is not that you think this girl too young to marry but too young to know her own mind.”
Darcy's lips twitched. “She knows her own mind.”
“Then what is the issue?”
Darcy sighed. “It was her age at first, I concede. She has been eighteen for two months, however.”
“Old enough for you, then?” Richard asked drily.
“She was nearly old enough when I danced with her last year, but that is not the sole issue.”
Richard’s eyes widened. “It cannot be that she does not like you, so it must be a lack of fortune?”
“I have reconciled myself to that, as well. She has no fortune, no connections.”
“Unfortunate, but you have connections aplenty in my family.” Richard grinned.
“Indeed. But it is your family I worry about. Would your parents accept a niece who is not a diamond of the first order?”
“A dairymaid, then? No—a governess! No, too young…I have it, she is a tenant farmer's daughter. But then, how would you meet her in London?” Richard tapped his chin with his forefinger but looked at Darcy's expression and ceased his ribbing. “Oh no. Which is it?”
“She…she is the daughter of, well, I am not sure. One of her uncles is a gentleman with a small country estate, one is in trade in London—she has been raised by those two—another is a country solicitor. Although, I am unsure of…it is possible they are not all blood relations.”
“She does not know who her father is? That is a problem. I see why you hesitate.”
“I did not say she does not know who he is. Apparently, he was not a gentleman. Beyond that, I know only that the marriage was a scandal and her parents died when she was young.”
Richard blew out a breath. “Perhaps…”
“You see my problem at last.” Darcy looked him in the eye to ensure he did.
“I do. But surely—”
“Think of Georgiana, Richard. I cannot even consider Elizabeth.”
“Elizabeth! Finally, you admit she has a name.”
Darcy glared at him but remembered something. “You saw her once, actually.”
“Did I? Where?”
“Do you recall when you first met Bingley’s sisters about two years ago? I believe you entertained Miss Bingley with a story of a ball or some such nonsense.”
Richard stared at the wall behind Darcy until finally conceding, “I have no memory of this.”
“It was right after you had come from Denmark in time for the festive season. No matter. While you told your story, I spoke to Miss Elizabeth as she sat behind the pianoforte and supplied quiet music for her hosts.”
“Wait, was she a young girl, not yet out? I do remember now. Miss Bingley had listened to my stories intently until she realized you were not with us. I recall how perturbed she looked when she said, ‘She is not even out!’ before marching over to insist you join us. So, you were making love to the child in front of me?”
“I was not! I did not think of her in that way at all at the time. She was about sixteen, and we had several lively conversations before that and over the succeeding months.”
“Hmm. So, you were looking for a friend but over time found a little more. And you are certain nothing can be done?”
“What could possibly be done? Nothing can be done, so I am happier at Pemberley, where I cannot chance upon her.”
“I am sorry, Darce. Thank you for confiding in me, finally. I will always lend a listening ear.”
“Always if I can find you,” Darcy grumbled.
“And we return to your other grievance.”
“But you must see now why it would help me immeasurably to know,” Darcy attempted.
Richard chuckled. “You are shameless.”
Darcy mustered an expression he hoped was pitiable.
“Very well. You must not breathe a word of any of this to anyone. Not my parents or brother or your sister or your Miss Elizabeth.”
Darcy huffed. “As if I would.”
“Exactly.” Richard gave him a stern look. “I will tell you only this: As part of my military duties, I sometimes undertake covert assignments in England and abroad.”
“You are a spy? I thought…”
“Not always, but yes. Not a word. We should not speak of it even between ourselves,” Richard cautioned. “But now you know. I will support you in any way I can, be where you are as much as possible, but my life is not my own.”
“I understand. Thank you for trusting me with this. Now you have someone to talk to, as well, should you desire it.”
Richard nodded, though Darcy knew his cousin would likely never speak of it again.
“As it happens, I will be in and out of London for the next several months, and it would be most convenient if I could call on you at Darcy House on those occasions.”
“Very well.” Darcy shook his head in mild exasperation. “I will remain in town for now.”