CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
A Gentleman Dresses for His Wedding
At Netherfield, Darcy was awake before his valet.
Jenkins entered at half past six and found him standing at the window in his shirtsleeves. “Sir.”
Darcy turned.
His valet looked at him, then at the untouched bed hangings. “You did not sleep.”
“I slept.”
“For how long?”
Darcy looked back out the window.
Jenkins sighed with the confidence of a servant who had attended the same master since youth. “I have laid out the dark blue coat.”
“The black.”
“The blue sits better across the shoulders.”
“The black.”
“Miss Bennet has seen the black.”
Darcy turned slowly.
Jenkins remained expressionless.
“The blue, then.”
“Very good, sir.”
Darcy narrowed his eyes. Jenkins began arranging the cravat. The injured leg no longer required a splint, but stiffness remained worst in the mornings. Darcy sat to pull on his boot and paused when pain tugged beneath the scar.
Jenkins noticed. “Shall I fetch the cane?”
“Yes.”
There had been a time Darcy would have refused from pride. He had learned there was little dignity in pretending pain did not exist and then limping badly enough for everyone to notice. By eight, he was dressed. The blue coat did sit better.
Richard entered without knocking.
Darcy looked at the door. “Is this a family defect?”
“Yes.” Richard handed him a small glass. “Brandy.”
“No.”
“It is medicinal.”
“I am marrying Elizabeth in two hours. I prefer to remember it.”
Richard drank the brandy himself. “Wise.”
Darcy adjusted one cuff.
Richard watched. “Your hands are shaking.”
“They are not.”
Richard caught one.
It was.
Darcy pulled free. “Say nothing.”
“I have known you since you wore skirts. I reserve all rights.”
Darcy gave him a look.
Richard’s grin softened. “She loves you.”
Darcy stopped. “I know.”
“Do you?”
Darcy almost laughed. “Everyone asks me that.”
“Because you are a difficult man.”
“So I have been told.”
Richard leaned against the dressing table. “You nearly died.”
The words quieted the room. Darcy looked toward the cane. “Yes.”
“I did not tell you how bad it was.”
“You did not need to.”
“No. But I will tell you now.” Richard’s voice lost its teasing. “When I first saw you at Longbourn, I thought you might not last the night.”
Darcy’s face became still.
“You were talking nonsense about south field drainage and Miss Elizabeth’s eyes. Morrison was worried about infection in the bone. Your fever climbed. I wrote to Mother because I did not know if she would arrive in time.”
Darcy looked down.
Richard continued, “And now you are annoyed about a blue coat.”
A laugh escaped Darcy before he could prevent it.
“Perspective,” Richard said.
“Yes.”
A knock came. This time Georgiana waited for permission before entering. She wore pale lavender and carried a small box.
Richard kissed her cheek. “You look terrifyingly respectable.”
“So do you.”
“Cruel child.”
He left them.
Georgiana came to Darcy. “You look handsome.”
“Thank you.”
“And frightened.”
Darcy sighed. “Has Richard instructed everyone to say that?”
“No.” She held out the box. Inside lay a pair of silver cuff links set with small dark stones.
“Father’s,” Darcy said.
Georgiana nodded. “I thought you might wear them.”
He touched one with his thumb. Their father had worn them on formal occasions. Darcy remembered his hands signing estate papers, lifting a wineglass, correcting a child’s grip on a fishing rod. “I thought they were in the Pemberley safe.”
“They were. Mrs. Reynolds sent them.”
Darcy looked at his sister. “Thank you.”
Georgiana’s eyes filled. He held out his arms.
She came into them. “I am happy for you,” she whispered.
“So am I.”
“She will not take you away from me?”
Darcy drew back at once. “Never.”
Georgiana blushed. “I know that sounds childish.”
“It does not.”
“She will be mistress of Pemberley.”
“Yes.”
“And your wife.”
“Yes.”
“And perhaps you will have children.”
Darcy’s expression softened. “Yes.”
Georgiana looked down. “Things will change.”
Darcy thought of Longbourn the previous night. Of five sisters preparing to separate. “Yes,” he said. “They will.”
Georgiana looked up.
“But change is not replacement.”
She listened.
“You are my sister. Nothing Elizabeth becomes to me can make you less that.”
Georgiana smiled tremulously.
“And,” Darcy added, “she loves you already.”
“I love her.”
“I know.”
They stood together a moment longer. Then Georgiana stepped back and looked at his cuffs. “You must change them.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She laughed. Darcy put on his father’s cuff links. At nine-thirty, he descended the Netherfield stairs without his cane. He carried it in one hand anyway.
That, too, was progress.