Darcyhadfinallylurchedupright, his head throbbing. He sat for a few minutes, his pounding eyes shielded in his fists. Dimly he perceived Wilson making preparations for his morning shave, but the sounds which were usually so welcome in the morning only aggravated his suffering.
Darcy could not remember ever having been the worse for drink. What had he done last night? Shadowy memories flitted through his mind, spinning and dissolving and then finally coalescing to one single point—Elizabeth.
Good heavens, what had he done? His muddled mind struggled to piece together the events of the day before. Had he really…? And she…. He groaned, flopping back down on the bed. It hurt his head to think about it.
He struggled to a sitting position again when he heard muffled voices approaching from the corridor. Bingley’s clear, happy tones were joined by another voice, deeper and heartier…Dash it. That is all I need.
“...Twobottles of Scotch! We cannot be talking about the same Darcy!”
“Indeed, it is the truth. I have never seen him so…” there was a brief rap on the door, and then it opened abruptly. Bingley still stood with his knuckles in the air, but Richard Fitzwilliam strode confidently into the room and accosted him as he still sat in his bed.
“William!” his cousin grinned as he slapped him mercilessly on the back.
“Go away, Richard,” Darcy growled.
“Oh-ho, my boy, is that any way to greet your favourite relative?” Fitzwilliam’s voice was much, much louder than normal. Was it his imagination, or was his cousin deliberately trying to increase his agony?
“You are most decidedlynotmy favourite relative,” was the cross retort.
“No, I suppose not, but I brought her with me. Best clean up, Laddy. We cannot let Georgiana think you are less than a paragon. Here we go!” Richard shouldered his younger and taller cousin and hoisted him to his feet.
Darcy’s head reeled with the sudden change in posture. His stomach rebelled, and he tried to grip both aching body parts to still the overpowering queasiness. “Richard, curse you, let go of me!” Immediately he regretted his words. Fitzwilliam yielded with an exaggerated flourish, and Darcy nearly crumpled to the floor. He had to let go of his stomach to grasp the post of the bed.
Finally, Richard’s words clarified in his head. “You brought Georgiana? Whatever for? And what are you doing here, you blackguard?”
“Temper, temper, Darce. I say, Bingley, he is in fine form today, is he not? Here you are.” Richard braced him again, and with Bingley’s assistance, the pair helped him to walk over to the chair where Wilson waited to shave him.
Out of consideration for the man with the hangover, Bingley and Fitzwilliam stood quietly while Darcy received his shave. Bingley decided a bath ought to be drawn to revive his friend, but seeing Darcy’s continued lack of coordination, the two men were obliged to help. Fitzwilliam dunked his cousin into the bath with a little more exuberance than was strictly necessary, but the job was at last done.
Bingley and Fitzwilliam retreated to the bedroom while Darcy dressed and was made presentable. Wilson once again earned his rather lavish pay, for Darcy looked nearly respectable when he emerged. His steps were still short, his movements painfully slow in regard for his aching head. He greeted them with a slow nod. Bingley wordlessly handed him a cup of black coffee and encouraged him to sit at his writing desk.
“So,” the colonel began, drawing a chair near. “Tell me about this Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who I hear is so enchanting.”
Darcy moaned, rolled out of his chair, and stumbled toward his bed. Behind the screen, they could hear him retching into the chamber pot.
“Wrong subject, I suspect, Colonel,” Bingley whispered.
Fitzwilliam’s eyes were round in wonder. “I would never have imagined it,” he replied, his voice low. “He is utterly smitten, is he not? And she refused him, you say? Indeed, I must meet this singular woman!”
Bingley nodded in agreement but said nothing. Darcy was tremblingly emerging from behind the screen, wiping his mouth. He dubiously regarded his companions, who both sat in nervous silence while he gingerly resumed his seat and his coffee. A soft knock at the door brought a note from Bingley’s housekeeper and provided him an escape, which he gratefully took. Colonel Fitzwilliam remained, eyeing his cousin’s condition sceptically.
“Well, Cousin,” he recommenced, more gently this time. “Tell good old Richard what the matter is.”
Darcy scowled. “Your patronizing is not necessary.”
“That’s more like it, Cuz. So, I understand I am to wish you joy?” He watched carefully, wondering if his return to the previous subject would precipitate another run on the chamber pot. Darcy held himself in admirably but did not make a proper reply. A groan and a deep sigh was his only response for a moment.
Half a cup of coffee later, Darcy looked up. “Did you say you brought Georgiana? What the devil for?”
Richard handled his surly cousin with aplomb. He would get the full story when Darcy was good and ready. “She was concerned about her brother, naturally. Bingley sent me an express yesterday, which he intended as an invitation for her to come to you. He indicated that you might be in need of a little support from your dearest sister. Had Ichosento hold her back, I would have been unsuccessful. I have absolutelynoidea where she learned to be so stubborn,” he innocently suggested. “She insisted upon leaving at first light this morning. Something about travelling post-chaise alone if I did not present myself at the door by the proper hour….”
“Richard!” Darcy’s expression was deadly serious, his voice a harsh whisper, “Wickham is here.”
The colonel’s face paled. “What, here in Meryton?”
Darcy nodded, sickening again. “Bingley could not have known when he wrote for her to come. Wickham has joined the regiment stationed there. It also seems that he has been merrily spreading reports about myself, which you and I both know to be false, but she.…” his voice trailed off as he fought back another wave of nausea.
“Oh…” Richard breathed. “I see.” He sat contemplatively, brushing his chin with his forefinger. “How do we keep her away from him?” His eyes narrowed, focusing on his cousin. “Or was it Georgie you were talking about just now?”
