He loved her. He loved her and he had her. A man in such a fine situation had an excuse for whistling as he breakfasted with coffee.
Darcy whistled the tune from the final dance of the previous night’s ball.
After he put away the roll, Darcy rang the bell to call a servant. The uniformed footman immediately responded, looking fresh and ready when he entered the breakfast room. Impressive. Darcy had noted this same man awake, partying the birth of eighteen hundred and seventeen late the past night. The footman had been dancing a spinning reel on the lawn outside with a pretty maid. Darcy said, “A sheaf of paper and quill and ink.”
When the supplies were brought, Darcy seated himself at a small writing desk kept in the room next to one of the windows for the purpose of people being able to do such work while still remaining part of the party. His partial break with his cousin had lasted long enough. He still cared for Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam dearly, and if Richard would stand in a room with Georgiana, he dearly wished the man to be present at his wedding, and as more than simply a distant guest. They had been distant the times they had met for family matters since he had not made Georgiana marry Mr. Carteret.
Elizabeth had mentioned meeting Richard at Rosings Park when she visited her friend, the wife of the parson. It caused him to have a longing to see his cousin again.
Richard,
I know not what salutation to use. You were angry with me, and I refused to argue with you. I withdrew from everyone following the events with Georgiana and the birth of Anne. I ought to apologize to you, and I think you ought to me. Neither of us were happy, neither of us provided the friend the other needed. I do not repent of allowing Georgiana her choice to not marry. However, I heartily repent of allowing you to retire from me, and of not making an energetic and close effort to return our friendship to what it had been.
I am to marry in a few weeks. A woman who you met once at Rosings, she tells me, Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire. I am entirely in love with her. It changes a man, when he makes the choice to marry. Love for her fills his dreams and his breakfasts and travels and evenings with a glow. And Miss Bennet is wise; when I think how my relations with you appear to her, I appear petty in my own eyes. I realize how I have missed our friendship and companionship.
If you attend my wedding, it would be an added joy to a happiest day. You are my friend and my cousin. Once we were as close as brothers. I wish that again.
Please attend and come a few days early, if you can, so we might reminisce. You remember Mr. Bingley, I am resident at his manor, Netherfield in Hertfordshire near the town of Meryton. Please come.
Yours sincerely,
F Darcy
Darcy closed the letter, and he held the wax up to a candle. It had been thoughtful of the servant to bring a stick of wax along with the writing materials. He sealed the letter, pressing his ring into the gooey wax that dripped onto the stiff paper, and he called for the servant once more. After the footman took the folded letter, Darcy let out a long breath.
That was done. He felt powerful and happy. It was strangely difficult to make such a move of reconciliation. Before he always had hesitated at sending a letter of this sort to Richard, afraid admitting his own wrongness would make him seem weak, or afraid he would be misinterpreted by his cousin.
Elizabeth made him better.
Darcy poured himself a fresh mug of coffee. He put his nose close to the cup so he could enjoy the strong aroma and then cradled the saucer in his hand and walked to the window to smile at the icy day. Colder than the previous day when they were hunting. It had been a fine game. Along with Darcy, Mr. Peake had managed to outride many of the local gentlemen, showing off a certain Derbyshire pride.
Georgiana had danced the last dance with Mr. Peake. She had looked too…happy. His sister looked like she was in the grip of something more serious than a mild infatuation that could pass without any consequence.
Damnation. And everything was going so well with his sister. He at last had begun to feel as if she was well and happy. And now an unsuitable infatuation.
Darcy looked back out the window. A farmer walked along a distant road, bowed under with a big table he carried awkwardly. A woman in a patched dress walked up to him from the other direction, and the farmer put down his burden and kissed the woman. Then they both picked the heavy table up, and walked forward easily carrying it between them.
Elizabeth would help him with his sister. Everything was better now that they could carry his burdens between them like the happy farm couple on the road.
She might disagree. Elizabeth’s beloved uncle was Mr. Peake’s partner, and his business would benefit if Mr. Peake gained a large sum of capital. Mr. Peake himself was the cousin of Elizabeth’s equally loved aunt.
Darcy paced back and forth along the wooden floor of the breakfast room. He put his coffee and saucer down on the brown window sill so he did not spill it. Elizabeth was not mercenary. She understood the importance of the distinction between a gentlewoman and a tradesman.
Also, Mr. Peake was a good man.
Darcy understood his character: he was solid and honorable. He would not abuse Georgiana’s infatuation. There needed to be separation between them, so Georgiana’s fondness could cool.
Elizabeth could give a discreet message to Mr. Peake, asking him to be more distant with Georgiana, for Georgiana’s sake. In a few days he and the Gardiners would return to London, and Georgiana would not see any of them.
A few more weeks. The banns needed to be read. Then the marriage. He would possess his Elizabeth. The right to hold her body. To press her breasts and stomach against him. To flatten her body tight against his as they embraced. To undress her slowly, undoing her dress, one pearl button at a time. And then letting it fall away leaving her chemise exposed and—
A cough behind him startled Darcy.
“Fitzwilliam. I…I have a matter…” Georgiana trailed off.
Darcy looked at his sister, caught off guard by her entrance into the breakfast room.
“That is — well, about Mr. Peake. I…I have formed…”
