Quickly he realized his blunder and said, “You misunderstand me. I did not mean that I… I would never presume anything upon a lady…” He knew he was making a cake of himself but knew not how to make her know he did not mean he meant to offer hercarte-blanche.
She seemed to take pity on him and said only, “I believe I understand you, sir.”
Relieved, he said, “Nor do I mean to insult Mr. Collins, but I imagine that I may be a more formidable deterrent than he.”
A sputter escaped before she caught herself. “I assure you, sir. That is an unspoken fact.” She stood to grab the teapot and pour them both a fresh cup before resuming her seat. “Won’t you tell me about your cousin?”
“My cousin?” Darcy’s ache at Richard’s death had numbed during their convivial banter, but the wound ripped open anew at her words. “Richard was a man who brought joy to all he met. He was the second son of my uncle and had chosen to make his way in the military. After all he had prepared for, all the battles he had fought, to learn of his death was quite a blow.”
“May I ask how he met his end?”
He looked into her kind eyes. “In an accident. I am unaware of the particulars, but…” His voice threatened to catch, and he picked up his cup and took a swallow, allowing the warmth to soothe his throat. “Suffice to say, this is an injury from which I shall not soon recover.”
“You cared for him?”
“As a brother.” He sipped his tea and sighed, uncertain if he should persist. “And, I am also concerned for my sister,” he uttered.
“Your sister? You have much to worry over. Nonetheless, your consideration does you credit as a brother. I know of few whose sleep would escape them due to concern for a sibling.”
“I know you would worry for Miss Bennet—erm…Mrs. Collins.”
Tapping her fingers on the rim of the teacup, she looked up at him. “You are correct. Jane and I are more closely connected than to any of our other sisters.” She smiled as he passed her the sugar. “There is not a day that goes by I do not worry for her in…her present situation as a wife.”
He nodded to encourage her to continue.
“Although she is fortunate to have…found a man that is…so well settled, and…values her…attributes as a wife.” She choked down her tea.
“I had discovered,” Darcy began, to fill the awkward silence, “that in my most…recent absence, my own sister who is of age, was married without my knowledge.”
Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide, and she gasped. “That must have been dreadful for you!”
“Yes, it was. And the man is a rogue who can be only after her dowry. And now she is lost to me. His sole motive is to gamble her funds and procure more for his pleasure.”
“What a wretched man!”
“I can only hope that he will receive his due.” Darcy gripped the edge of the table. “It ischallengingto know one’s sister married a man unworthy of her.”
“It is. But that is why one must do whatever they can to be the strength for their loved one, whether she is in the position to realize the actions are for her benefit or not.”
A tender smile played across his lips, as Darcy acknowledged to himself, she too knew the loss of a sister to a man undeserving of her, a man who, although much different from Mr. Wickham, was not from the same social or intellectual sphere. “And so, we wait?” he asked. “Until our siblings need us, and we are there to heal the ache of their tattered hearts?”
“What other choice do we have?” she asked with a sad smile while grazing the rim of the cup with her finger.
Absolutely none.
His previous conversations with Clarence had been less than informative, with the good sir reminding him that heneeded to discover “his new world on his own.” No amount of petitioning or remonstrating would sway him in Darcy’s favor. The unanswered questions still plagued him as he walked into Hunsford village the following morning, having come across Clarence after his visiting a sick farmer. When the elder man had asked about the previous night’s dinner, Darcy did little to hide his cynicism.
“It was pleasant enough. I had to watch my sister, who does not know me, accept the vilest treatment from Wickham. I observed my once powerful aunt diminished as an invalid, and I viewed my cousin Anne, whose acceptance of Wickham’s behavior astonishes me, act as the Queen herself. All things considered, dinner was delightful.” He tried but could not keep the bite from his voice while waiting to make another request of the apothecary. “And you will still not tell me anything?”
“I have told you all I can, Fitzroy. You must discover this world on your own.”
That was precisely what he did not want to hear; he was actuallytiredof hearing it. He wanted toknowof his uncle, the earl, and his cousin Alfred.
“There is also other information which you seek and are unaware of. All will presentitself in due course.”
“Due course?”
“Yes. But remember. This is somethingyouwanted. You asked for. Now, you must accept the consequences of your request.”
