“Or was depending upon his protection,” Bingley suggested. “You did say that Fitzwilliam might have been trying to save her from something.”
“Well, and what if he was? What woman of sense does not feel some tenderness towards a man who would exert himself for her? Richard is a good man, so why should some lady not take note of that fact? Do not think me blinded by a woman’s tears, for I am quite pragmatic about the matter. She confessed to me she did not know Richard well before they married, but her reasons for attaching herself to him seemed more honest than many of our own acquaintance.”
“But what shall you do with her?” Bingley wondered. “What if Fitzwilliam never returns? Will you keep his widow here?”
Darcy frowned and went to the sideboard to pour them each a drink. “Well, he does have some small inheritance to which she would be entitled as his wife. And I do not yet know whether she might be with child—I expect that detail will assert itself in due time.”
Bingley rose from his seat to accept the glass Darcy handed him. “But what I do not understand is all this secrecy about her. So, what if Fitzwilliam married? Many soldiers do, and if she has a valid license to prove it, then where is the difficulty?”
Darcy swallowed his drink and tightened his lips. “The decision is not mine alone. The earl asked it to be kept quiet until we could know more of Mrs Fitzwilliam. I have been observing her personally, so I am more willing to accept it as a fact. My aunt, however, flatly denies that any such alliance could have taken place, and even Reginald has his doubts. I mean to speak with him further when I return to London next week, and perhaps then Mrs Fitzwilliam will be accepted and comforted by Richard’s own family.”
“Well, then, perhaps I should be asking why I have been let in on the family secret. Why not keep the ladies above stairs and me in the billiards room during my stay? I am leaving again in the morning, so it is not as if you could not have done it.”
He frowned. “Let us say it is a sign of respect—my trust in you, and my faith in the lady. I believe she will view it as a sign of acceptance, though I am not yet at liberty to introduce her to society at large.”
“You say that as if you expect difficulties when you do introduce her.”
“Difficulties… that would be putting it mildly. She is… well, perhaps I should allow you to form your own impressions.”
ThemomentDarcyintroducedBingley to his guests, he regretted it.
Contrary to his apprehensions, Mrs Fitzwilliam and Miss Bennet presented themselves well. Thanks to his maids and Georgiana’s advice, they were attired properly for dinner, and their manners, if unpolished, were not without charm. Even that gauche Collins only mumbled two or three phrases to make the ladies blush.
It was the way Bingley was staring at Miss Bennet that gave him pause. Darcy checked his pocket watch, more out of a restless embarrassment than a need to know the time. Georgiana made him proud when she properly and delicately induced Mr Collins to escort her to dinner—though, all the while, he could read the distaste writ over her features. He briefly contemplated asking for Miss Bennet’s hand to dinner, simply to break Bingley’s gaze for a moment, but his eyes lit on Mrs Fitzwilliam instead. There, they remained.
She was easy to talk to. Perhaps it was her informal ways, or perhaps it was simply something in her expression. It may have been that hour over the chessboard—one of the most pleasurable games of his life, if he were to own it—that had helped him to lower his guard enough to see her as a woman and not a trial.
The first course had been laid, and she was looking down now, her brow dimpled ever so slightly as her hand hovered over the silverware—a more formal service than she had yet encountered in his homes. Darcy could not help a smile as her eyes discreetly wandered to his own hand. “Start on the outside,” he whispered. She flashed him a look of gratitude and followed his direction.
“I say, Miss Bennet,” Bingley was postulating from the other end of the table, “Wyoming must be the most beautiful state in the country. Is it quite vast?”
Darcy listened as Miss Bennet shyly described such things as his eyes had never witnessed. Rabbits the size of dogs, bears and wolves roaming freely within sight of town, and native peoples who could still be seen occasionally to practise their ancient ways. He glanced frequently at Mrs Fitzwilliam as if to verify the truth of her sister’s words. She always met his gaze with a look of amusement. Perhaps there remained much he did not know of the lady and the myriad forces that had swayed her life until Fate delivered her to his door.
That Bingley was enraptured with Miss Bennet needed not a moment for him to determine. His friend spent most of the evening gazing at her the way the earl’s little children adored a sweet treat from the confectioner’s. And coffee! Bingley never took coffee after dinner, but when the suggestion arose after the party had adjourned to the drawing-room and Miss Bennet expressed her interest, Bingley was the first to second it. What the devil was Bingley thinking?
“Something amiss, Mr Darcy?” came Mrs Fitzwilliam’s low tones at his side.
He started and glanced to his left. “I beg your pardon?”
She lowered into a seat near enough to him that they might converse quietly and looked down at her cup while she spoke. “You disapprove of their conversation?”
“Am I that obvious?”
Her cheek dimpled as she blew the steam from her cup—yet another of her mannerisms he found curious. “Indeed, you are. Shall I acquire a sudden headache and take my sister upstairs for the evening?”
He stretched his arm over the chair rest, leaning somewhat closer to her as he did so. “And why would you seek to be so accommodating? Does Miss Bennet appear displeased? I was trying to decide.”
She raised her eyes and gazed thoughtfully at the pair for a moment. “Sir, you do not know my sister well, so you cannot be expected to interpret her feelings. However, I have seldom seen her take so much pleasure in any gentleman’s company. That, I presume, is why you are frowning so darkly just now.”
“Was I?”
“Oh, I quite understand, sir. It is impossible for anything to come of it, is it not? No matter…” Her brow furrowed, and she stared at the remnant of her coffee.
“No matter what, Mrs Fitzwilliam?”
She forced a smile. “I meant to say that no matter what comes of my future, I do not think anyone expected Jane to remain in England. She came for me because that is the sort of sister she is. However, we had assumed when matters were settled, and I knew what was to come…” She blinked and made a flippant gesture with her hand. “Well, it would not seem prudent for her to form an attachment here, nor for your friend to lose his heart to a lady with nothing to offer.”
Darcy gazed at her for a moment, a half-smile tugging at his mouth. “Has anyone told you that you are astonishingly frank, Mrs Fitzwilliam?”
