They thanked the men and walked a short distance to confer in privacy. It was a quick counsel, as they all agreed to return at the appointed hour the following day to meet the man who maintained Mrs. Brown’s grave.
They spent the rest of the day together, easy in each other’s company, sharing stories and laughing. Elizabeth felt so comfortable with Fitzwilliam and his family, Emily, and Alexandra, she wondered how it was possible that they had not known each other all of their lives. She held every minute close to her heart, cherishing it along with her favorite memories.
But with her happiness, a trickle of melancholy crept in. Today they were together, united in their purpose. But what about when they discovered the truth? Elizabeth did not allow herself to doubt they would reveal who was behind Fitzwilliam and Nick’s separation, as well as Emily’s. Would they continue tobe friends? Would it ever be safe for Nick and Alexandra in England? If Fitzwilliam had to choose between his family and the status into which he was raised, would he prove as steady as Elizabeth had always witnessed him to be? Furthermore, how could he be loyal to one without forsaking the other?
It was not a decision she wished him to ever have to make.
CHAPTER 40
Darcy tried not to resent the size of their party; he tried not to feel guilty about his resentment when that same party consisted mostly of his relatives and Elizabeth’s. But when it meant that he could not sit beside his betrothed in the same carriage, he felt a degree of resentment appropriate.
Looking across from him, he suspected Nick’s thoughts ran along a similar vein. He either sighed or scowled … much like Darcy.
Uncle clucked his tongue at them and chuckled knowingly—irritatingly. “I have been married to the woman I adore for thirty-two years, and you lads are reminding me of my youth, how every minute without her was agony. I pray you are always impatient for your loves.”
Now Darcy felt wretched. He had been so intent on his own misery, he had not considered how Uncle mustmiss Aunt, who was taking care of their daughters and niece back in London, no doubt worried and impatient herself to hear the news and know that her husband and nephews were unharmed.
Nick smiled, then turned his gaze to Richard. “Speaking of loves, I’ve seen how ye look at that fiery-haired lass. She’s got a level head on her shoulders and a strong mind. Good qualities.”
Richard smiled, a sad twitch of his lips that died before it reached his eyes. “Miss Rothschild is an heiress. I could not rightly pursue her without feeling like a fortune hunter. She deserves better than that.”
Nick looked at him askance. “Are ye a fortune hunter?”
“No. But it is no secret that I would do well to marry into a fortune.”
“So, ye won’t pursue yer suit because she has exactly what ye need?” Nick scratched his head.
“I respect her too much.”
“Ye like her—could love her even—but ye won’t tell her because she happens to be an heiress in possession of a fortune?” Nick shook his head. “Sounds a bit backwards if ye ask me.”
“It is more complicated than that. I would never want her to doubt that my affection stemmed from a sincere heart.”
“Ye’re an honest man. Just tell her. She’ll believe ye,” Nick said with a shrug.
Richard looked to his father and Darcyfor support, but Nick’s reasoning was too simple and sound to refute. If Miss Rothschild trusted him to speak the truth, then why should Richard not allow her the opportunity to form her own opinion? She did not seem like the kind of woman to be easily swayed by public opinion or give credence to society’s gossip. Not a woman unafraid to take on the Bow Street Runners and hire detectives when everyone told her that her efforts were futile and a waste of time.
“Give the lady more credit, Richard. She knows her own mind better than you ever shall,” Uncle urged.
Darcy stifled a snort. Had he heeded his uncle’s advice, he never would have presumed to do or say half of the things he now regretted regarding Elizabeth and her family.
“But what about her friends and family? Surely they would advise her to avoid gentlemen of my sort,” Richard said.
“That is pride, and it has no place in a happy home. People talk no matter what you do, but you are constant and therefore have nothing to fear. You shall love the woman you marry more with every passing year. Let them talk about that.”
Where had Uncle and his advice been before Darcy traveled to Hertfordshire? Of course, Darcy had to own, he would have been too proud to pay his uncle any heed.
But that was no longer the case. He had learned his lesson, and Darcy now knew that he would always belearning. Elizabeth was a charming teacher, but she had high expectations. And he would do his best to rise to them.
Nick laced his fingers together and leaned back against the cushions with his eyes closed. He had no expectations, nor had he—not even once—used his newfound connections to his own advantage. And just as Darcy hoped Richard would overcome the obstacles holding him back from a young lady who could be the making of him, Darcy was determined not to allow anyone or anything to separate him from Nick. They were brothers. Darcys.
They arrived at the cemetery before the man with the flowers, but they did not have to wait long. At ten after the hour, he appeared, one hand carrying a bunch of violets.
Piling out of the carriage, the ladies and Mr. Bennet holding back a few paces so as not to overwhelm or frighten the poor man, Darcy waited for his uncle to approach, standing near enough to hear but not too close to crowd.
The man nodded, and Uncle gestured for their party to join them by Mrs. Brown’s grave, introducing them as they trickled in.
“This is Mr. Allan,” Uncle said. Lowering his tone, he added, “Please allow me to express my condolences for your loss. You must miss her dearly.”
