He considered hiring a chair to take him to his cousin’s residence, for it would take him the better part of an hour at his gimping pace. He dismissed it on the grounds that it would only encourage speculation about him. No, a footman out on an errand for his master either walked or was given a mount. Since he had no mount and could not countenance the gossip if it were reported that a driver had picked him up in Cheapside dressed as a domestic, he would walk. Curling his toes under the balls of his feet and limping evenly on both, he did just that.
Chapter five
Colonel Fitzwilliam was, indeed, at home. He was in the habit of rising early from his long days in the army, and even when off duty, he could scarcely remain abed after seven of the clock. He was already up and enjoying a cup of coffee—no tea for him in the mornings—when his batman informed him that he had a visitor.
“So early! Perhaps a friend ran aground at the gambling tables last night, eh? Well, show him in, Jenkins, show him in.”
“Colonel, it is Lady Catherine de Bourgh who wishes to speak with you.”
Fitzwilliam nearly spit his coffee. He managed to salvage his dignity in that regard but could not avoid spilling a few drops as he set it on the saucer. “My aunt! What in blazes could she want? Never mind, Jenkins, of course, you could not formulate the answer to that. That would imply reason on my aunt’s part, and I suffer under no illusions that she has submitted to such an authority. Well, show her in, and I shall make myself presentable.”
He stood, inspecting his coat to be certain that no crumbs besmirched it. Lady Catherine descended upon the apartment like a thunderstorm, cracking and pouring down the force of her displeasure. What he had done to merit this personal call at his humble abode, he could not say, but likely enough, it had something to do with Darcy.
He was right.
“Fitzwilliam, where are you keeping him?” she demanded at once.
“Him… forgive me, Aunt, but I have not the pleasure of understanding you. Good morning to you as well, by the by. There is no one here, save Jenkins and myself. And my housekeeper, of course, but….”
“Fitzwilliam Darcy! He has come here, has he not?”
“Darcy? I beg your pardon, Aunt, but I last saw Darcy a fortnight ago. I have only just gone on a short leave, do you see, but I intended to call upon him this morning.”
She stalked nearer. “Do not play coy with me, Richard Fitzwilliam. What has he arranged? I must know all his plans.”
“I would certainly reveal what I knew, Aunt, but Darcy is not here, nor have I had word from him. Perhaps he is paying a call on some friend or other.”
“You and I both know that Darcy never pays social calls at such an hour, and apart from yourself, there is only that tradesman to whom he might have gone for an informal visitation.”
“Bingley? He is not in Town at present. Have you truly not seen Darcy since last night?”
She drew herself up. “Of course, I have not, and that is the subject of my desired conversation with him.” Lady Catherine seemed to pause. “You will swear that he did not come here… perhaps this morning?”
“Unless I was still abed, Aunt, which is unlikely. May I ask, why the urgency? If I am not mistaken, you are his guest at present, and he will only naturally return to the house when his errands are complete. Has something happened?”
She pursed her lips. “Indeed, something has happened. He has ruined my daughter. Compromised her, beyond hope of recovery, and practically before my very eyes!”
“No! I cannot believe this, Aunt. Darcy would never… and Anne! I find it difficult to credit, Aunt.”
“She was in his bed this morning,” asserted the lady. “I would have him found at once so that the settlement can be drawn up and the wedding might be arranged. As you cannot testify to hiswhereabouts,” here, she smiled faintly, “I shall speak with him once he has returned to the house. I shall depend upon your support to ensure he behaves the gentleman toward his cousin hereafter. I shall call next upon the earl to discuss the matter with him. Good day, Fitzwilliam.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam stood aghast as his aunt departed in a sweep of black and an irregular tapping of her cane—a means of expression, rather than a necessity for mobility.
Darcy and Anne! If his aunt had not sworn to it, he could never have believed it. Darcy could have any woman he wanted, as a wife or even a mistress, but Anne? Apart from a sickly, unappealing person, there was the matter of her mother. No man in his senses would touch her, least of all Darcy! The man must have been desperate… or intoxicated. After seven and twenty years of celibacy—as far as he knew—perhaps it was a little of both. Besides, any man would be driven to drink with their Aunt Catherine as a guest.
Fitzwilliam shook his head and sighed. Well, Darcy could step into the hornet’s nest if he wished. He wanted no part of it for himself.
“Kitty,” Elizabeth sighed in exasperation, “I do wish you would let the matter rest. Ofcourse,he was handsome. It might be said that a footman’s only duty in the finer houses is to be handsome. They are chosen in matched sets like bookends, fitted with gloves and a powdered wig, and displayed as prize Adonises to serve their masters at table. What else would you expect, but that the one we encountered would be a prime specimen?”
“Prime, yes, but not at all nice. He was hardly deferential, and he only showed a bit of gratitude for our pains after you made him feel guilty.”
“That probably accounts for how we came upon him. His employer must have dismissed him for insolence. It is strange, however, for he seemed more cultured than I would have expected. Did you notice how he always said ‘madam,’ rather than ‘ma’am,’ as all the others do?”
“I think he admired you, Lizzy. Why else would he lie in wait for us to pass by?”
“He had taken his shoes off! That is not what I would call lying in wait, and besides, we have no business troubling ourselves over one barmy footman. You really must learn to think of other matters besides the male sex.”
“I think a great deal of other matters. Bonnets, for example. Did we not pass that milliner in Newgate? Or was it Skinner Street?”
