part0020

The dim lights of the village of Hawton vanished behind them, as they took to the Great North Road again, at high speed. They had merely stopped for a change of horses, and while the stable lads had done their duty, Fitzwilliam had made short work of a collation of cheese, bread, cold meat and porter. As Darcy knew full well, other than on campaign, his cousin was not in the habit of travelling with such meagre comforts, and it was testament to his affection that he was willing to resist the allure of a warm bed and a hearty meal at the George and Dragon , Hawton’s other, better inn.

As for himself, food and drink could not be further from his mind as he consulted his pocket watch – again – and wondered if they would reach Pemberley by dawn.

His cousin’s voice made him turn with a start from the tedious display of dark shapes and shadows rolling past the glass panes.

“Here, Darcy. Care for some?” the Colonel asked, and in the faint glimmer of the carriage lights Darcy could just about distinguish his extended hand, brandy flask in it.

“Plying me with drink again, are you?” he replied with a chuckle.

Fitzwilliam laughed outright.

“It seems fitting.”

“I thank you, Cousin, but no.”

“Are you quite certain?” the other pressed him, the tone no longer flippant, but warm and considerate. “It might help you sleep.”

“Quite certain, I thank you,” Darcy assured him. He had no desire to sleep.

“Suit yourself,” Fitzwilliam muttered, then availed himself of the brandy and put the flask away. “But I think you should try to sleep, in preparation for the morrow, if nothing else. You will need a clear head, if you do not wish to turn your declaration into a hopeless muddle,” he said with a chuckle .

Despite himself, Darcy gave a bitter laugh.

“Worse than what I have already done?” he retorted. “By Jove, Cousin, I hope not!”

“So, this is the lie of the land, is it? Heaven help us! Come then, out with it. What have you done that is worse than a hopeless muddle?”

With Pemberley tantalisingly close, but still far enough to rob him of every shred of patience, Darcy finally gave in to the fond raillery, as well as the irresistible urge to speak of Elizabeth. In the late hours of the night, as the speeding carriage was carrying them relentlessly onwards, he opened his heart to his cousin, and proceeded to relate his convoluted history with the woman he loved.

The Colonel began by listening quietly enough, with nothing but the odd huff here and there in the narrative. Yet that materially changed, once Darcy told him of Farringdon Lodge and Devonshire.

“I beg your pardon? I must have failed to catch your meaning. Exactly what did you just say you did?” Fitzwilliam suddenly asked, the precise enunciation a clear warning of his opinion on the matter – which he was more than willing to share in rigorous detail, as Darcy was soon occasioned to find out. “Clearly, Cousin, you must have taken leave of your senses,” he declared matter-of-factly, and Darcy rubbed his aching temples and covered his eyes, wishing he could cover his ears as well, when his cousin proceeded to abuse him and his hare-brained scheme for more reasons than Darcy could count.

“You must have been very pleased with yourself, congratulated yourself on your good deed, I’d wager, but have you by any chance considered the implications? Like the small detail of the humiliation Miss Bennet and her family are likely to feel, should they ever learn they are indebted to you? Or the position they would be in, should this become public knowledge? Did you ever consider what sort of malicious gossip could have been attached to Miss Bennet and her sisters? Ours is not a forgiving society, Darcy, you do not need me to tell you that. Ensconced in the country as they might be, it would have tainted them nevertheless, and because of who you are, rumours would not have died down easily. Of all the damned asinine notions!” Fitzwilliam exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

There was no other man in his circle who knew him half so well and who would so bluntly and openly challenge his actions – nor would he tolerate it from anybody else. They had been close, inordinately close all their lives, their bond stronger in many ways than the blood ties of brothers. Still, on this occasion it was not just their closeness that compelled Darcy to allow his cousin to berate him thus. In all fairness, he could hardly reproach Fitzwilliam for putting his own thoughts and fears into words. Nor could he fail to admit the truth at last:

“To be honest, no,” he tiredly answered. “I had not considered all the implications. Not until it was too late to change anything.”

“Good grief, Cousin! I thought you prided yourself on your understanding.”

“Yes. I did, did I not?” Darcy replied dryly.

“Well! You know what they say…” the Colonel observed with a mirthless laugh, and Darcy huffed ill-temperedly in response.

“Pride goeth before a fall, and all that. I thank you, I know.”

“Have you ever noticed,” the Colonel drawled, “that the most harmful errors are not those of weak-minded fools? For a fool merely stumbles into some clumsy scheme or another, but the man of solid understanding methodically puts together the deadliest of structures, with every confidence in his judgement, and all the wilful thoroughness of forethought.”

“Are you contemplating turning philosopher in your old age, perchance?” Darcy replied with biting sarcasm, but the other would not be deterred.

“I can scarce credit it, Darcy. This is beyond everything. I knew you would trip and fall one day, with your deeply-held notion that you know what is best for everyone oh-so-much-better than they do, but I never expected a blunder of such magnitude. You do everything on a grander scale than the rest of us, do you not?”

“Desist, Richard!” Darcy snapped. “I am in no humour to be laughed at, I assure you.”

“Oh, but you will have to grow accustomed to it, my fine fellow, from what I gathered. And be quick about it, too, or we might as well turn this coach around and head back to town.”

Darcy’s incipient smile, the first in the past half-hour, was lost in the darkness of the carriage.

“So, you thought Farringdon was the answer,” Fitzwilliam resumed, making full use of the licence silently given – not that he had ever felt he needed any. “The right choice between the call of duty and the call of the heart,” he added, an unmistakable touch of derision in his address. “What of the duty to the preservation of the family estate, then? Not a part of your grand design, apparently. How did you plan to reconcile that, pray?”

“I felt that duty could go hang!” Darcy burst out, with the same indignation of months ago, but it did not wash with his cousin.

“It could go hang, but not to death,” Fitzwilliam scathingly retorted. “You were prepared to relinquish your professed source of happiness, you have exposed a most worthy woman to the threat of the vilest form of gossip, all in the name of duty, but duty can go hang, you say. Cousin, that is rich, even from you.”

“That is quite enough!” Darcy glowered, stung not only by the validity of the reproof, but especially by his cousin’s defence of Elizabeth. ‘For his own sake, Richard would do well to overcome his partiality to her,’ he thought darkly, then instantly dismissed the thought as unworthy of either of them.

“You think so? I think not. For my part, I think ‘tis high time you heard a series of unpalatable truths,” his companion replied, his tone and manner sufficiently provoking to raise Darcy’s ire again.

Nevertheless, he knew better than to give free rein to his anger, and evenly replied:

“Whatever has got into you, Richard? Is it the lack of sleep? The lack of decent fare? For I cannot remember you ever being quite as vicious as you are tonight.”

For a while, there was no answer. Instead, Darcy could hear his cousin taking another fortifying gulp.

“Vicious, am I? Perhaps,” he replied at last, his tone once more that of casual raillery. “Perhaps I am vicious, as you put it, because I envy you your freedom to choose your partner in life without particular regard for the lady’s purse. There you are, with all the privileges of the firstborn, and you throw away your chances – or very nearly throw away one of the best. You are dealt the winning hand, and you still find a way to make a hash of it,” he laughed, but something underneath the banter gave Darcy the unsettling suspicion that truths were voiced under the guise of jests. Whether or not that was the case, they stung all the same.

“This is not a game of cards, Cousin; and every privilege comes with a host of obligations,” Darcy replied without rancour, but with a touch of sadness. His best friend’s misguided envy was something he could well do without .

“That is as may be,” the Colonel owned, suddenly abandoning his flippant manner. “I will not conceal it, Darcy, ‘tis the full account of your qualms about the connection that makes me so uneasy. You speak of obligations. Aye. We both know this is not the greatest match you could aspire to, nor will it improve Georgiana’s prospects. Quite the opposite. Nay, let me finish,” he asked, raising his hand when Darcy began to protest. “I was not aware this was how you felt about Miss Bennet’s connections. For my part,” he resumed after a pause, “I have not thought them quite as bad as that, but then I am not you.”

“Are you saying I am more conceited than most?” Darcy asked, not really offended.

“No. Only more fastidious.”

Darcy gave a short, wry laugh.

“In any case,” the Colonel continued in the same solemn fashion, “when we left town this morning, the last thought on my mind was to expound upon the merits of marrying into one’s own sphere, as my esteemed father would be wont to do, but I see now that he might have the right of it.”

“Fitzwilliam, you are not attending—”

“Darcy, either by accident or by design, you are beginning to sound like our aunt Catherine. Desist, I beg you,” the Colonel retorted, only partially in jest. “I know what you are about to say – that you have thought long and hard on it. That, I do not doubt. Yet have you considered the matter from Miss Bennet’s perspective? Torn loyalties, and the discomfort that engenders? Would you imagine her untouched by your views on her family? You know as well as I do that society will not reward your choice,” Fitzwilliam said emphatically, “and neither will family, not for quite some time, if ever. Your sole reward will be in your home. And I fear for your felicity, and hers, if it should be tainted by notions of her inferiority. Early months of joy would turn into a lifetime of bitterness and recriminations. Not a fate I should wish on either of you.”

Darcy straightened in his seat, about to heatedly argue against the unrelenting litany, but in the end he merely smiled – a small, knowing smile his cousin could not see.

“I find that hard to believe, particularly of you, of all people.”

“I thank you for your flattering estimation of my character. But that is neither here nor there. Rest assured, I have had ample time and opportunity to learn that it matters not.”

“You have not been put to the test,” Fitzwilliam observed matter-of-factly.

“Not in that sense,” Darcy conceded. “True enough, I have not confronted the higher echelons united in their scorn. But I was put to a different test,” he added, thinking of the months of self-inflicted hell he had endured, while he had sought to distance himself from Elizabeth.

“And have you passed it?”

“I know not. I hope so.” Only Elizabeth could tell.

A long silence followed. When Fitzwilliam eventually broke it, his voice had a wistful ring to it.

“’Tis not my place to offer absolution, Cousin. And you should know better than to expect me to applaud your actions if I think them indefensible,” he added with a mirthless laugh, which the other echoed. “If you found me harsh and vexingly outspoken, then I apologise,” the Colonel resumed, his manner once more solemn. “I set off with you from Berkeley Square with every intention to support you, and I had no reason to doubt you or your actions. But your account unsettled me. You are a good man, Cousin, a kind man, a good brother and a loyal friend, but you tend to be more than a little overbearing. And self-absorbed, after a fashion. Not that you do not care for others. You do, a vast deal. But you arrange their lives firmly believing you know best. I hope you can learn to accept that sometimes you do not; and you cannot always have it your own way.”

“Have no fear,” Darcy replied, an edge to his voice. “I already know that, believe it or not.”

Unaffected by his cousin’s manifest displeasure, the Colonel replied evenly, with an edge of his own.

“See that you do, Cousin. For Georgiana and Miss Bennet’s sake, as well as yours, see that you do.”

After a frugal repast during which they laid their plans for the day, Miss Darcy and Mrs Annesley left the smaller breakfast parlour together, only to go their separate ways shortly afterwards, the former to practise her music, and the latter to attend to her correspondence above-stairs. But as she turned into the corridor leading to the music room, Georgiana’s attention was drawn towards the sound of voices coming from the entrance hall. They were rather faint, to be sure, but even so, they were unexpected at such an early hour in the morning, so Georgiana changed course to investigate. She had yet to round the corner, when the butler’s voice reached her, an earnest, joyous ring to his habitually subdued tones.

“I will see to it directly. And may I add, ‘tis very good to have you back, Sir.”

“Thank you, Barlow,” a most familiar and very dear voice replied, bringing a wide smile to Georgiana’s lips.

It was only with considerable effort that she continued at a sedate pace, befitting the de facto mistress of the house, rather than rushing into his arms, as she would have chosen to. She made her way into the hall just in time to see her brother handing his hat and gloves to their butler, and stopped in her tracks for a moment to take in the ever so welcome sight. He looked tired, his countenance drawn, but there was an unmistakable air of joy about him that made her dear brother look even more handsome than he was. She advanced towards him, her hands outstretched.

“Fitzwilliam, what a delightful surprise!”

It was not the only one. As she approached, Georgiana could see her favourite cousin on the other side of the grand staircase, his head cocked to one side just so, an affectionate smile lighting up his eyes.

“And Richard! How lovely to see you both,” she said instead.

“’Tis good to see you too, dearest,” Darcy replied first, touched by her earnest welcome, the joy of their reunion mirrored in his countenance as he took her hands and carried them to his lips.

Fitzwilliam greeted her in his turn, and Georgiana encompassed them in a tender glance.

“You must be so very tired. Have you travelled all night?” she incredulously asked .

“We have, indeed. There was no reason for me to remain in town,” was Darcy’s laconic answer, then he added: “And Fitzwilliam was kind enough to accompany me at such short notice.”

“As I said, Coz, I would not miss it,” the Colonel retorted, but said nothing further and, all things considered, Darcy chose not to be drawn into it.

“Would you care to rest? Or have some refreshments?” Georgiana asked. “Allow me to see to your breakfast. Or coffee at least,” she said, and would have left them, had her brother not detained her.

“Do not trouble yourself, dearest. We need to change from the road, before we are fit for company,” he smiled, briefly indicating his appearance.

He had obviously just alighted from the carriage, his greatcoat rumpled and covered in dust in places, and Georgiana returned the smile, privately thinking she could not remember the last time she had seen her brother looking anything but clean-shaven and impeccably attired – if indeed she ever had.

“As far as I am concerned, a cup of coffee with you will suffice, but I imagine our cousin will appreciate something more substantial,” he said. After a journey such as they had, and the last few hours in particular, Darcy was rather disposed to regard him as an opinionated busybody, but in the eyes of most, that might have been insufficient reason to starve him.

“Why, thank you, Coz. The perfect host, as always,” Fitzwilliam smirked, as though he could read his thoughts. “But I should not wish to keep either of you waiting around in the breakfast parlour. I would be perfectly content with a tray in my room, if that could be contrived.”

Eventually, they agreed to reconvene for coffee in Georgiana’s sitting room in an hour’s time, and then the Colonel excused himself and retired to his chambers.

Having given up on practising her music, Georgiana made her way towards her sitting room instead. Darcy escorted her there and, taking advantage of the first moments of real privacy since his return, he swept his sister up into a warm embrace and earnestly searched her eyes.

“Are you well, dearest?” he quietly inquired. “Truly?”

“Yes. I think so. I hope so,” he replied swiftly, without thinking.

Georgiana cast him a puzzled glance.

“I am well,” Darcy said, and pressed his lips on her brow. “I hope you will forgive me for having left you for so long.”

“Do not concern yourself. I am so happy you are here, and that is all I care about.”

Darcy tightened his hold about her shoulders and bent his head to kiss the tip of her nose.

“Thank you. You are too good. Nay, do not protest. For once, I know what I am saying,” he added lightly, and soon left the room, a surprised younger sister staring with a bemused smile after him.

Darcy made his way towards his chambers, a spring in his step despite the overwhelming tiredness. It was good to be home, and the joy of it touched his heart.

Yet the calm, welcoming atmosphere of Pemberley could not truly reach him, could not truly soothe him. An eager, restless anticipation unsettled him, and he knew that despite his best efforts, it was not at Pemberley that he would find his peace. Unfortunately, it was much too early in the morning for a visit to the inn at Lambton, therefore any thoughts of the kind would have to wait, as he was well aware. He settled for making himself presentable instead and, in the hope of a modicum of tranquillity and comfort, he ordered his bath.

It was readied for him as promptly as ever, and before long he was able to take pleasure in its calming influence. Or rather, he sought to. He closed his eyes, willing himself to lose at least some of the tension, to think of nothing but the calm joy of the moment, of the hot water loosening the knots in his tired muscles, as well as the knots in his chest. He willed himself not to think of how Elizabeth would look later in the morning, when he would see her, nor of what he was to say on the occasion.

The room was perfectly still but for the crackling of the fire and, after the punishing journey, the luxury of a quiet time in the privacy of his own apartments and in the welcome comfort of a warm bath was so enjoyable that it almost lured him to sleep. And yet the tension would not dissipate. In part, it was the tiredness, he knew – the result of having been so highly strung for the best part of twenty hours, waiting for something to happen, for the end of his journey to come into view at last .

He had reached its physical end, but by no means its real one. And the anxiety sparked by the conversation he was soon to have with Elizabeth, substantially fuelled by Fitzwilliam’s liberally expressed opinions – on subjects about which, in Darcy’s estimation, he had no right to possess one, let alone express it – apparently required a great deal more than a hot bath before it would abate.

“I apologise for my tardiness, Georgiana,” Darcy said, unwilling to admit that exhaustion had finally got the better of him after all, and he had dozed off in the tepid water until roused by Rochester, who had assumed Weston’s duties until such time as his man would complete his much slower journey from town.

“’Tis of no consequence,” a delighted Georgiana reassured him. “I should be happy to have another cup of tea with you. I should be happy to have another breakfast with you as well,” she laughed. “Fitzwilliam, ‘tis ever so good to have you back,” she exclaimed, not caring one jot that she must have already said as much several times that morning. “And you too, Richard,” she added, not necessarily as an afterthought.

Yet even if it were, the Colonel would not have had the heart to be offended. His young cousin had been the apple of his eye ever since she could talk, and possibly before then, and in any case, everyone in the family knew and appreciated the singularly strong bond the Darcy siblings shared.

Darcy reached to press and hold his sister’s hand as he said quietly but with feeling:

“’Tis good to be back, dearest, and I hope never to leave you for such a length of time again.”

Georgiana replied in kind, her beautiful eyes wide and only for him, before she remembered to stand and order fresh tea and coffee.

“How have you been keeping, then, little Miss?” Fitzwilliam teased her to lighten the moment, and Georgiana laughed through unshed tears.

“I wish you would acknowledge that I have grown up, Cousin. ”

“Oh, but I do, or else I would have called you Poppet Miss Moppet, as I had these twelve or thirteen years,” replied the Colonel after a sip of coffee, and the various tensions coming at loggerheads around the room dissipated for a while as they all laughed.

Fitzwilliam leaned back in his chair, fondly regarding these two cousins of his who, in their very different ways, had always tugged at his heartstrings – and hoped, for both their sakes, that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was indeed everything he believed her to be.

Not surprisingly, Darcy’s thoughts were also fixed on the lady, and it was beyond him to wait for very long before seeking to bring up her name in conversation.

“I received your letter just as we were preparing to set off,” he cautiously began, hoping that Fitzwilliam would have enough sense and kindness not to tease him mercilessly in his sister’s presence, and reveal that, far from being incidental, Georgiana’s letter had in fact prompted their journey north. “I understand you have recently become acquainted with Mrs Bingley’s sister, as well as her uncle and aunt from town.”

“Aye, and it was such a pleasure. I cannot recall a more enjoyable time spent with a new acquaintance. Except when I met Mrs Bingley herself,” Georgiana amended with a smile. “I have spoken but briefly with Mr and Mrs Gardiner, just for long enough to see they are kind and affable, with agreeable manners and sensible conversation, but it was such a joy to get to know Miss Bennet better. Have I told you that we spent the best part of Tuesday together?”

“No. Just that you intended to.”

“It was delightful. And a great surprise, in many ways.”

“How so?” Darcy inquired, rather too quickly.

“Miss Bennet is very different from the other young ladies of my acquaintance. There is an openness of manner, a warm friendliness that is very pleasing, with no hint of artifice. Oh, pray forgive me,” Georgiana broke off, blushing. “I know not what I am saying.”

Darcy knew. Only too well.

“And moreover… you will laugh at me…,” Georgiana turned towards the Colonel with a conscious smile, “but there is also the notion that she truly wanted to spend time with me , rather than…” Her blush deepened, but she continued nonetheless. “Rather than put herself in my brother’s path,” she concluded, with a shy, almost apologetic smile in the direction of the said brother .

Colonel Fitzwilliam did not laugh, but his eyes twinkled.

In his view, Georgiana was uncomfortable enough in company already, without the added encumbrance of doubting people’s motives. But then again, Fitzwilliam could be in the right; perhaps she had grown up. Georgiana’s next words rather served to prove it.

“You know I speak the truth, Richard,” she replied, somewhat diffidently. “Hardly any of the young ladies who seek me in town do so for the pleasure of my company. Indeed, I would be vain and rather foolish to think so, when more often than not they invariably ask, mere minutes into our conversation, ‘And how is your dear brother, Miss Darcy?’ , followed by oblique but insistent inquiries into my brother’s concerns. Elizabeth was different, and I must own, it was most refreshing. Why, she would not even claim an acquaintance with Fitzwilliam. I would not have known they had met, had it not come up quite by accident.”

“Oh, is it Elizabeth now? Already?” the Colonel remarked, and Darcy found his cousin’s assessing glance settling on him. He pretended not to notice as he sought to smooth his countenance and conceal his dismay at learning that Elizabeth had not mentioned their acquaintance, but his efforts seemed to be for naught. With something akin to a muted snort, Fitzwilliam shook his head, then resumed, “I see. So, what was this accident you speak of?”

“She saw my sketch over there,” Georgiana explained, gesturing towards the wall behind her.

Fitzwilliam left his chair to examine it better.

“Not bad work, Little Cousin,” he said dryly. “You made your brother look almost human, which is more than he achieves for himself in certain circumstances. What say you, Coz? You look… tolerable, I suppose… in this likeness, do you not think?” he drawled as he returned to his seat.

Darcy rolled his eyes at this further proof that he had volunteered too much information; but then Georgiana spoke again, distracting him from vexing and utterly fruitless musings.

“I must confess,” she cheerfully said, “I am very glad I left the impression, in Lambton, that we were away for the summer.”

“Why is that?” their cousin asked .

“It encouraged Miss Bennet to visit. She made it very clear that she would not have intruded upon us, had she known otherwise.”

The sound escaped him without notice at the distressing notion that she would have avoided Pemberley, had she known him in residence. Darcy narrowed his eyes and looked away. Fitzwilliam’s exasperated huff took him completely by surprise.

“For goodness’ sake, Darcy, desist, I beg you!” he exclaimed. “’Tis nothing short of maddening, your readiness to see the dark side of everything,” he muttered, then turned to their younger relation. “But of course, little one. She must have felt uncomfortable touring the place without an invitation. Miss Bennet hardly seems the sort who would ingratiate herself at any cost, put herself forward, or claim a connection merely to impress,” he elaborated, ostensibly towards Georgiana, but Darcy could not doubt that the lecture was for his benefit.

He glanced briefly at his cousin, only to be met with a quizzical stare from beneath arched brows. Darcy’s lips tightened. Challenging his misjudgements was one of Fitzwilliam’s favoured pastimes – had been from their boyhood – and there was little hope that he would change his ways. What he had just said about Elizabeth was sound, on reflection, and thus a most welcome reassurance, and Darcy knew full well there was no malice in his cousin’s penchant for overtly or covertly amusing himself at his expense. Yet that did not make the experience any more palatable, least of all now. The profound gratitude he had felt for Fitzwilliam the other day, in Berkeley Square, was fast becoming but a distant memory, and likewise the view that he would be hard-pressed to be out of patience with his cousin, come what may. Richard had repeatedly pushed his luck throughout their journey and, not for the first time, Darcy regretted bringing him along – and speaking so forthrightly about Elizabeth, for that matter. But what was done was done; so, with an effort , he sought to shake himself from the unpleasant reverie.

He was not to be granted a respite.

“What displeases you, Brother?” Georgiana asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Yes, what displeases you?” the Colonel echoed, his tone and mien the most provoking show of innocence, as he leaned further back into his chair .

“Surely you do not disapprove of my wish to know Elizabeth better. Do you?” Georgiana asked, suddenly hesitant.

Fitzwilliam chortled and covered his eyes, sadly missing the scowl Darcy cast his way.

“I am so very glad,” Georgiana replied, too caught in her musings to note the undercurrents between her cousin and her brother. “I must own, I was concerned for a while, once I had asked her to return to Pemberley and spend the day with me. It crossed my mind that I should have reserved judgement, as ours was such a short acquaintance, and that perhaps I should have been less hasty in bestowing my good opinion. Sadly, the three of us know just how ill that had served me in the past…” she added in a small and mournful voice, twisting her fingers together in her lap.

In the face of her self-doubt and lingering mortification, private concerns were instantly set aside, and both her brother and her cousin spoke up to heatedly protest against such sentiments and offer reassurance. Darcy came to sit beside her and clasped her hand in his, forgetting to take his cousin to task for liberally attaching a vast selection of unsavoury epithets to Wickham’s name, most of them unfit for his sister’s ears. The thought that Georgiana would doubt herself to the extent of fearing she had misread Elizabeth as grievously as Wickham made his insides turn, as did the mere notion of comparing them, even in passing.

When their tempers settled by a fraction and they ceased speaking over each other to absolve Georgiana of all blame, she cast a warm glance and a tremulous smile towards the two men she loved best.

“I thank you. You are both a great deal too kind to me.”

Another wave of protests followed, and Georgiana allowed them to finish, before turning to her brother.

“I am so relieved you think I was right to trust my first impressions of Miss Bennet. I was perturbed to begin with, but then I remembered Mrs Bingley and I was reassured. I knew that you approved of her. As Mrs Bingley’s sister, Miss Bennet could not be anything but lovely and amiable.”

Darcy forbore to comment on Georgiana’s assumption, happy for everybody’s sake that, as far as that particular sister was concerned, it was a correct one. Fitzwilliam met his eyes and cleared his voice, making Darcy fear for a moment that his disclosures during the previous night might return to haunt him. But thankfully his cousin said nothing untoward.

“And what else did you do when Miss Bennet called?” he asked, recommencing to earn Darcy’s gratitude rather than purposely provoking him.

“Not enough. I wish she could have stayed for longer. We walked through the grounds, we played the pianoforte and we talked of everything under the sun.”

“That, I can well imagine,” Fitzwilliam smiled, remembering the young lady’s ease in conversation, and was not surprised at her success in drawing his young cousin out. Both his cousins, for that matter.

“There was but one circumstance that gave me some unease,” Georgiana began hesitantly, thus regaining Fitzwilliam’s attention. Darcy’s, she had never lost. “It appears Miss Bennet was rather discomfited by some references to our aunt…”

“I should have thought most people would be discomfited by references to Lady Catherine,” Fitzwilliam quipped, earning a reproving stare from Darcy, and he readily apologised, in the full knowledge that his cousin was in the right; he ought not have shared the impertinent thought with Georgiana.

“Forgive me, Richard, I was speaking of Fitzwilliam’s aunt and mine. Lady Farringdon,” Georgiana clarified.

Darcy’s head snapped up.

“How did you come to discuss Aunt Arabella?” he swiftly asked.

“We found some of her old sketches in the library, and one of the Devonshire ones seemed to capture Miss Bennet’s attention.”

“Farringdon Lodge,” Darcy whispered, and Georgiana glanced at him in wonder.

“Indeed. How did you know?”

Her brother gave no indication that he heard her question. Instead, he leaned forward, on the edge of his seat.

“Well… Some of it, aye, but not in great detail. Forgive me, I was distracted by a sketch of Father…”

“Do try. ’Tis of great import,” he breathlessly urged .

Georgiana brought one hand to her brow.

“Let me see… Miss Bennet wished to know whether our aunt had ever been to Devonshire. I said she used to live there… Then, I believe we looked at the sketch of the lodge together, and for some reason she was quite perturbed to learn that you owned it.”

Fitzwilliam gasped. Darcy sprang to his feet, his countenance dark and forbidding.

Georgiana looked up, petrified by their response.

“I said I thought you did,” she owned, visibly distraught, “but that I was not sure, and that you or Mr Stratton would know more…”

“Good Lord!” Darcy repeated, this time in a whisper, and pressed his eyes shut, but Georgiana’s plea, earnest and very close to tears, brought him back.

“Fitzwilliam, I am terribly sorry! I did not know I should not. Brother, what is the matter? What did I do?”

“Come now, Darcy, this is hardly fair!” the Colonel intervened, the first to recover from their shock, but his admonition was no longer necessary. Recollecting himself, Darcy had already rushed to his sister. He dropped on one knee beside her and took her hands in his.

Oblivious to his self-recriminations, Georgiana peered earnestly into his face.

“What is it, Brother? Why is everyone so dreadfully upset by the very mention of this place in Devonshire?”

Darcy drew a long breath and stood, running a hand over his face. He made to walk away, his countenance darkening with every passing second. Yet he did not. Instead, he let himself sink onto the sofa, next to his sister, and remained there staring blankly into space as he endeavoured to come to grips with the enormity of the situation. Silently, Georgiana reached for his hand and pressed it to her lips. The simple gesture brought him from his trance, and Darcy’s eyes regained their focus and met hers. He lightly stroked her fingers, and his lips curled into a pallid smile.

“Dearest Brother,” Georgiana felt emboldened to whisper, “what is it that pains you so? ”

He still made no answer. Wise beyond her years, she did not press him further, but kept his hand in hers and waited, her gentle visage a picture of concern.

Darcy had long reconciled himself to the thought that he would finish by disclosing the full truth to his cousin. He had considered his best friend as well, but then had reluctantly dismissed the notion, as Bingley was too close to the Bennets to be burdened with such a confidence. But not once had he imagined he would open his heart to his much younger sister.

Regardless, that was precisely what he did that morning – and in some ways it was a better choice, for he received no judgement from Georgiana, just absorbed attention and the unmistakable devotion in her deep blue eyes, fixed on him, larger than ever, for the entire duration of his narrative.

He could not look at her, but he told her everything. He spoke of Hertfordshire and Elizabeth’s unshakable hold on him, of her unsuitable connections and his decision to forsake her, of Devonshire and Brandon and his despair ever since.

Georgiana cast none of the condemnations that Fitzwilliam had liberally bestowed – and Bingley would have undoubtedly echoed. She simply held his hand and listened, wide-eyed and still, until there was nothing more to tell.