Old grief merged with new anguish. I couldn’t lose Elizabeth again. Yet, how could I alter fate’s design? Even baring my soul gave no power to bid her stay when I offered no certainty. Better solitude than dragging innocent hearts down in my wake. My duty was to swallow that bitter draught alone.
With stoic resignation, I turned toward Pemberley’s lights, barely piercing the darkness. Cold comfort, yet some bulwark against storms without. I must bar my longing’s doors and steel myself to silence desire’s cries. Such was my solitary destiny, no matter how fiercely longing now protested. No sweet song could break this isolation.
Morninglightdidlittleto penetrate the restless fog shrouding my mood. I paced Pemberley’s halls, thoughts churning. I dared not venture to Farthingdale again. Ought I dispatch an errand boy to check on Mrs. Westing’s recovery? But no, too impersonal. This dilemma would not resolve itself merely by avoiding the site of disruption. Perhaps if I rode to Matlock first, I might fortify myself before...
“Darcy!”
I turned, startled from my absorption as Bingley strode buoyantly forth. “You’re awake early. No lingering abed to dream on tender hopes today?”
Humor glinted in his eyes. “And pass the chance to glimpse fair visions made flesh? I am for Farthingdale as soon as I break fast. Will you not join me?”
I hesitated. “I ought to look in on George first.” At Bingley’s questioning look, I elaborated. “He was strangely overwrought yesterday. I would not have his prospects jeopardized.”
Comprehension lit Bingley’s face. “Well, then! I shall convey glad tidings on my own and give your regards. And...” Inspiration sparked. “I will bring your midwife back if she is ready to depart. If you will lend me your carriage.”
The tension eased fractionally from my neck. Bless Bingley for intuitively grasping my constraints without demanding an explanation. “That would be helpful. I will send word to the stables.”
He waved my stilted gratitude aside. “It is nothing! I confess ulterior motives exist besides sporting your livery.” His infectious grin invited shared amusement if I were so inclined. “We shall hope I return with a good report on all quarters, eh?”
I managed a weak smile in return. “Let us hope George’s affairs fare as smoothly as yours appear to at present.”
If life’s orchard granted Bingley a bit of windfall fruit, would a merciful Providence not spare me a sole blighted tree? But resenting Bingley’s unclouded delight served no purpose. I simply could not risk endangering George’s prospects now, no matter how Elizabeth’s absence grieved me. I left Bingley to his lively anticipations, a heaviness settling round my heart. There are burdens, once assumed, that even closest comrades cannot share or allay.
TheridetoMatlockstrained my already taut nerves beyond limit. A dozen dire scenarios played through my mind regarding what awaited there. Would I find George packed off in disgrace for his temper yesterday, his prospects in ruins? Or worse yet, would he be gone entirely, having abandoned Lady Lucilla to renew tantalizing dreams with Elizabeth after his shocking display of passion when I stopped him riding for Farthingdale?
Thus preoccupied, the great house appeared around a bend in the drive sooner than I anticipated. I rounded the corner to the courtyard with trepidation mounting. But instead of shattered hopes, a charming domestic tableau greeted my entrance.
There stood George, sunny smile restored, assisting Lady Lucilla and her mother in mounting a matched pair of elegant chestnut mares, caparisoned for riding side-saddle. At my abrupt appearance, he turned with his usual unaffected welcome.
“Brother! Well met this fine day. You find me readying to play guide for the ladies through Matlock’s picturesque splendors.”
I could only stare stupidly, pulse resuming irregular beat. At length, I managed to dismount and murmur appropriate greetings to Lady Belmont and Lady Lucilla as they expertly gathered their reins.
Before I could quite determine how to voice the questions simmering in my mind, Lady Lucilla smiled down at me gently. “Will you not join our party, Mr. Darcy? With two such amiable escorts, I shall be the envy of all Derbyshire.”
“We should be glad for your company, Fitz, if you have time to spare?” George’s expression hovered between contrition and entreaty.
“Please excuse me a moment.” Touching my hat brim politely, I drew George several paces away and pitched my voice low. “Forgive my astonishment, but you seem remarkably restored to good humor today. Can all be well after yesterday’s… trials?”
Chagrin crossed his handsome features. “About that... Let us just say I have profited from salutary counsel against hasty words blurted in passion.” His glance strayed toward Lady Lucilla, adjusting her hat. “And a gentle heart ready to pardon thoughtless folly.”
I studied my brother closely but could glean little beyond surface impressions. Time enough later to parse puzzling details, when the lady was not awaiting with all eagerness for the ride ahead. I clapped George bracingly on one shoulder. “Well! I shall expect a bit more intelligence on the matter later. Shall I wish you a happy journey, then?”
George’s lingering gloom evaporated instantly. “I should be wounded indeed if you abandon us now! Come, Fitz, you must ride with us. I see that gloomy look about you again. What better things do you have to do? Back to your study?” His ready smile flashed enticingly. “Come, Brother! Surely affairs of the estate can spare you briefly for a breath of air to clear the senses.”
I wavered, temptation proving potent as curiosity regarding this astonishing reversal. But hesitation yet held me fast. A backward glance showed Lady Lucilla watching us, hope writ clearly in her open countenance. Squaring my shoulders, I summoned formal tones of deep regret. “I must speak to the earl just now, but I wish you all a pleasant ride.”
George’s crestfallen look stabbed my conscience briefly. But he rallied swiftly, bowing over my hand in a florid farewell. “We shall meet at dinner and take fuller measure of each other then!”
I stood watching their forms diminish down the drive, wondering anew if volatile George could ever settle fully to domestic harness. But for now, discord rested, as his heart apparently turned back to bask in Lady Lucilla’s warmth. I could only hope it would last, however improbable that appeared.
With a pensive sigh, I handed my horse to a groom and mounted the steps to the house.
Ipausedoutsidethedrawing-room door, bracing myself before entering the arena. Would I discover yesterday’s tensions still simmering regarding George’s explosive loss of temper? Or had my mercurial brother managed to reconcile and repair damaged bonds? With a muttered prayer for diplomacy swaying in my favor today, I straightened my waistcoat and presented myself.
Lord Matlock was comfortably ensconced amidst leather-bound comfort and cigar smoke, while Lord Winston stood at polite attention nearby. My muscles unclenched slightly when neither of them leveled accusing eyes at me the moment I entered the room.
But my relief was short-lived. Cool grey eyes above an impeccably groomed mustache arrested my survey. Ah yes, there waited the true test, pitting shaky nerves against steely mettle—time to face Lord Belmont.
