George however was no bother, and he, in fact, made himself useful by happily wetting hand towels for Darcy to press against his forehead.
They read all the stories in George’s book of fairy tales twice, and they were about to begin a third reading, when the door to the drawing room banged open.
“By Zeus, cousin, you are alive! Darcy, I’ll say it, I was damned scared for a day. Heard at Bromley that a gentleman had been shot to the death in Ramsgate. A duel over a sister. But the man did not know if it was the brother or the lover who’d been killed dead.”
“I did the shooting to death,” Darcy replied solemnly.
Darcy noticed George studying Colonel Fitzwilliam intently.
“So, Wickham is dead! Really dead! Hurrah! And the wound. I see you are bandaged up terribly. And what are you doing with two children? This room is a mess—where is Georgiana? Have you locked her up in her bedroom? Zeus! I’ve half a mind to take a belt to her. WithWickham. At least the damned man is dead. Heisdead?”
“Shot through the heart.”
“Hurrah!” Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned widely. “Cheer up. Don’t look so dour—hello little child. I’m not so terrifying. I’ve only eaten three or four children whole.”
This consideration did seem to comfort George a little, and he moved a little out from where he’d been hiding behind the sofa. However, the boy still stuck close to Darcy.
It was impossible for Darcy to not feel rather pleased by this. Likely as not he would die within the next week, but at least he was preferred by Mr. Wickham’s child.
Colonel Fitzwilliam went to the pull that was supposed to call the servants and sharply pulled it several times. “How did you become obliged to watch two children? Are they with the nurse? And where is she?”
“Pulling the bell will not do any good,” Darcy said.
The maid, Sally, stood and blushed. “I can fetch tea, but Mrs. Wickham strictly enjoined me to not leave Mr. Darcy alone with the children.”
“Mrs. Wickham!” Colonel Fitzwilliam exclaimed. “By Zeus, no! Darcy, do not tell me that they married before he died. No wait, that was clever. If you knew he was dying, this legitimates any child that might result from the dalliance. And we could have made sure that he died anyways, if there was any sign of recovery. But why did Wicky agree? But I know how it is. A dying man often is pliable in things that he normally would not be, and stubborn in other matters. I have seen it. Clever scheme, Darcy, but how is your wound developing? You’ve a fever, I see that from your face.”
“As for the wound, laudable pus has set in.”
“Ah, good. That’s a good sign.”
“So, I have heard,” Darcy replied, with a strong sense of mischief, and a sense that keeping his ordinary mode of expression did not matter at all. “Mrs. Wickham and the doctor both insist that is an excellent sign. Mrs. Wickham isnotGeorgiana. Mr. Wickham’s wife, who he claimed was deceased, is in fact alive.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam stopped his striding. He remained wholly still for twenty seconds, assimilating this information. Then he began to stride again. “Deuced shame. But I suppose that was too cute of a notion foryou—damned Wickham. I—”
“Such language, in front of children,” Darcy interrupted softly. He could not interrupt loudly without pain. But the pretense of primness was improved by that.
His cousin glared at him. “By Zeus! But I was already delighted to hear that Wickham was dead. This makes the delight like a fine Caribbean rum. He could not marry Georgiana, not even with the barbarous Scottish customs?”
“It would have been bigamy.”
“And what has Mrs. Wickham to do with anything?”
“They are her children, and she is the nurse.”
“The nurse!”
“But we have agreed that she is serving as such as a friend, and not for a fee,” Darcy added, “since she refused to take money for an injury caused by her husband.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam stopped pacing again. Those twenty seconds of thinking, assessing new information. “Fitzwilliam Darcy, have you taken leave of your senses?”
“Yes. Three days ago. When I challenged Mr. Wickham to a duel.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam’s face went flat. “I know that you always had an unreasonable prejudice against the practice of dueling. You had no choice. You had to fight him, and to shoot him dead. Do not become mealynowthat you’ve gained all the good that could be found in the situation. Exult. Be proud—I’venever been so proud of you. I half expected that you would have refused to shoot him after standing at the dueling grounds.”
“I would have if he had not hit me first.”
“Damn, damn. By Zeus,” Colonel Fitzwilliam snarled. “Still proud of you.”
