Richard narrowed his eyes and uncrossed his boots. “By Jove, Darcy, who is she? The unicorn has a name, does she not?”
Darcy looked away. “I speak in general terms, Richard.”
“Bollocks. Some faerie has spread her magical dust over your expensive lapels and now you are comparing every woman to her. What is her name?”
“There is no such lady,” Darcy retorted testily. “And even if there were, I am no mooncalf or fresh-faced lad.”
Richard nodded and pensively drew out a cigar from a box beside his chair. “Of course not. How silly of me. No lady has ever succeeded in turning your head.”
“Bloody right. A waste of a man’s energies, the creatures are.”
“Oh, yes. Frivolous, the lot of them. You are better off avoiding them altogether, even if they possess the faces of angels.”
“Just so,” Darcy agreed. “It would not matter to me if the handsomest woman in all England were to alight just before me with a mind like a law student and the integrity of a saint.”
“Naturally,” Richard agreed. He carefully sniffed the length of his cigar, his expression detached and cool. “You would not even blink twice.”
“Nor would I be troubled if such a person could nurse a poor opinion of me, just as Anne does. It is not for me to fret over each time my words and deeds have been misunderstood or I was judged to be arrogant for acting upon my own sound instincts.”
“Certainly not. You need not defend yourself.”
“No, indeed.” Darcy nodded with a tip of his glass and a facetious half-smirk. “It would not matter if unicorns and faeries did exist in Derbyshire, for it is not as if I could take her for my bride.”
“A pity about her lack of pedigree and fortune,” Richard sympathised round the butt of the cigar.
“Those I could nearly overlook, if it were not…” Darcy bit off the last words and glared at his cousin. “But no such person exists.”
“A pity, for I almost had you tricked into giving up her name!” Richard laughed. “Very well, there are no mythical beings in Derbyshire. But did I hear—it was probably only rumour—that you managed to marry off old Bernard Wickham before he died? That must have been satisfying, putting the nail in the coffin of George Wickham’s aspirations, so to speak. I suppose I ought to congratulate you for bringing Bernard round to reason at last. Whom did you find to marry him?”
A sudden queasiness made Darcy’s stomach clench and his face turn sour. “No one special. A reduced gentlewoman whose father’s estate fell to the next male relative. You know the sort—there are dozens or perhaps hundreds of such women.”
“Of course,” Richard echoed as he stuck the cigar back between his teeth. “Nothing unique about such a woman at all.”
Darcy met his cousin’s eyes and discovered an odd twinkle there—a peculiar cunning that hearkened back to long-ago days of youth when one would discover the other’s secret. But this time, the confession was too dear, too impossible. And so, he swallowed the last of his drink and rose to his feet.
“It was good to see you, Richard,” he said. “Please give Anne my regards, and my hope that we may all meet under the same roof again as family.”
Richard came to stand beside him and gave him his hand. “It was no punishment to see you either, old boy.”
They walked together to the door, and Darcy stopped to offer a final expression of goodwill. “Will you come to Matlock this autumn? If you do, I hope you will come to Pemberley for a bit of shooting.”
“Oh, I do not dare,” Richard answered with a strange smile. “I hear the forests around Pemberley have unicorns.”
Elizabethfoundanexcuseto remain at Pemberley that first Sunday after Mr Darcy’s departure. Miss Darcy seemed depressed, she assured herself. She had her duties—now even more than before, for had it not been for her, the master of Pemberley would have remained at home and his sister would still be in comforts. Throughout the day when she would normally have gone to her family, she clung close by her charge, soothing herself that in this, at least, she was doing something right.
Whether Georgiana Darcy perceived the reason for Elizabeth’s sombre manner could not be certain. However, on the following Sunday when Elizabeth proclaimed her intent to remain again, Georgiana would not hear of it. And so, to Corbett she went. The Bennet family attended church services together, then retired for an afternoon of leisure. Elizabeth and Jane pardoned themselves for a quiet ramble up the lane, having little to say and no particular object in mind.
Jane sighed nostalgically, gazing over the neighbouring field. “I am coming to like it here in Derbyshire very much, but it is still not quite like home. Do you remember how we all used to walk to Meryton of an afternoon?”
“Or to Lucas Lodge to see Charlotte,” Elizabeth replied with a smile.
Jane’s brow creased. “Better not recall her name in front of Mama. She still resents that Charlotte is now the mistress at Longbourn. Unjust, she calls it, saying the house should never have gone to Mr Collins.”
“Poor Mama!” Elizabeth agreed.
“Oh, but she is growing more settled each day. That is all thanks to you, Lizzy. I know you still regret…”
“Regret?” Elizabeth crossed her arms and watched her feet as they walked. “That is not precisely right—at least, not as it was.”
