“Papa was lucky to find work at all, at the time. We thought to go elsewhere, but there was nowhere to go. My uncle was kind enough to take the rest of us in, and we repay him by helping at the store, or with my aunt’s little ones.”
The colonel took a long draw from his glass and swallowed it thoughtfully. “I am sorry to hear of your family’s distress, Miss Elizabeth. I had not realised there was some connection to Bryson. I hope I have not caused you lasting embarrassment. As you say, I am only here for as long as the Army pleases to leave me here.”
“Do not concern yourself, Colonel. I am certain it will all be forgotten. You have given me a great deal of amusement with your valiant efforts, and for that, I shall thank you. What of you? You must have family back in England.”
“I do. My father is an earl, which I am certain you have heard. I am afraid that title, and my proximity thereto, have been misunderstood in town. I have a healthy older brother with a healthy son, so it is fortunate for me that I do not mind my lot as a soldier. I am reasonably fond of my brother.”
“‘Reasonably?’ You make it sound as if it is your duty to like him!”
“Is it not? But no, quite honestly, Reginald is a decent enough chap. I believe you would like his wife. She brought a breath of fresh air, as well as a substantial dowry to the estate. It was a business arrangement, as many marriages in my family are, but it has turned out well enough.”
Elizabeth swirled her drink and shook her head in mild astonishment. “It seems so far removed from everything I have ever heard, and yet so little is different! Here, so many marry for survival—a woman with nowhere to go, a man with a house and five hungry children to manage, and they make the best of it.” She thinned her lips and sighed.
“You disapprove of people making what prudent choices are available to them?”
“Oh! No, I do not mean to say that. I only think there should be other considerations. Matters of the heart are worth some thought, are they not?”
The colonel chuckled and took a second glass from a passing waiter. “I beg your pardon, Miss Elizabeth, but this conversation is beginning to remind me of some of the long talks I have had with my cousin. He is a brooder, a thinker—like you, I suppose, although you have the good grace to smile and tease when you speak with someone.”
“Your cousin disapproves of marriage for practical means?”
“Darcy? I would not say that he altogether disapproves. He is engaged himself, and it is a business affair if I ever saw one. Two years he has been informally pledged to marry Miss Anne de Bourgh, but his father proposed it some ten years before that. Still, neither appear to be in any hurry to bring the affair to the point. Whenever he can be induced to speak of it, he makes some vague excuse that the lady is enjoying her tour of the Continent or wishes to gain some accomplishment or other before marriage, and that he is in no mind to suspend her pleasure. Privately, Miss Elizabeth, I think they can hardly stand to be in the same county together, let alone the same house.”
“Is the lady truly so horrid? Or is your cousin such a brute that a woman would dread marriage to him?”
“Darcy is as noble as a man can be, but perhaps a little dull according to some—not me, of course. I can see why a woman might not find him interesting, wealthy though he is. Anne is an old family friend, and the connection spans two or three generations. No, she is not horrid, but she is rather fond of her way, and becomes more so the longer she remains a spinster.
“Now, before you begin to think the men of my family object to strong-minded women, I will tell you that Reginald’s wife can easily go toe-to-toe with Anne and usually comes out the victor. But, you see, Anne lacks any humour or gentler sentiments. It is all well and good for a woman to be determined and bold if she can also be gracious in both victory and defeat. Without that virtue, her company becomes wearisome rather quickly. Fitzwilliam Darcy is nothing if not a man of duty, but his long delay in actually marrying Anne makes me wonder if he is not truly an old romantic at heart. He would never confess it to me, of course, but I do wonder.”
Elizabeth laughed and finished her drink. “You sound most fond of him, Colonel. I hope, for the sake of your family felicity, that your cousin’s marriage turns out better than you seem to fear at present.”
“Indeed! For Pemberley is a favourite place of mine to visit, and I would much rather tarry there than anywhere else back at home, provided the mistress is welcoming.” He took her empty glass, as well as his own, and set them on a table. “Come, Miss Elizabeth, shall we have another dance?”
She gave him her hand. “Gladly, sir.”
Chapter 12
London
September 1900
Darcy’shandfellfromhis cheek, jarring him back to consciousness as he snapped his head upright. He shook himself and scrubbed his face with his palms before stretching back in his desk chair and craning his head to survey the window.
Nearly dusk already. How could that be? A full hour had slipped away while he ruminated and, apparently, dozed. He frowned at the stack of correspondence on his desk, wishing even half of it could have been something useful. Something productive. Something that would help his cousin.
But, no, he was to be burdened with investment statements and dinner invitations and the occasional letter of duty written by some old school friend whom he was unlikely ever to see again, except by chance. He picked them up, one by one, and set the letters to be posted on the salver while other specimens filled his wastebasket. Such a dry, pointless exercise had become his daily routine.
Bingley probably spent less than half this amount of time bothering with matters of business. The earl had a man hired specifically to sort and attend to all his correspondence—Darcy doubted that Reginald had written more than a dozen letters in his own hand in the last six months. And yet he, with his many cares and rather considerable abilities, wasted himself day by day at his desk. Waiting for something better.
By the end of the week, he would be bound for Pemberley. That alone should have brightened his dulled spirits, but the knowledge came with a sense of foreboding. Anne was now a guest at Matlock, and he knew well why she had gone back to Derbyshire. It was her signal to him that she was resigned to their eventual marriage.
Two years, they had agreed. If neither found a more attractive option before their deferment had ended, they would link their pedigrees and join their fortunes in the most suitably proper marriage thetonhad seen in half a generation. But if theydidfind someone more appealing…
He sighed and rose to stand by the window. No use following that thought, because neither of them had the least notion of what they even wanted, save that it was not each other. A fleeting thought coursed into his mind before he had the power to check it, and there it lodged, like a rock half-buried in the turf.Richard found what he wanted when he was not even searching.
Darcy snorted to himself and pulled at his moustache again—a mannerism he had hardly been aware of before…
Beforeher.
