“We shall.”
He was much more jovial as himself, Elizabeth realized as the two left arm in arm. She recalled her first impression of him. That he appeared to be a man who smiled a great deal.
“Do you need me to stay with you?” Jane asked softly.
Elizabeth would not see Jane’s wedding day any more tarnished. “Thank you, but please go enjoy your wedding breakfast.”
“I will send a maid to you, to see you home, and a footman will tell you when the carriage is ready. Do you require anything more?”
Elizabeth shook her head, her attention fixed on her hands. “No. Thank you.”
If the real Colonel Fitzwilliam was cheerful, had the version she’d seen been Mr. Darcy’s attempt at cheerfulness? And why had Colonel Fitzwilliam behaved so horribly to everyone? Was that how Mr. Darcy truly acted, or had the colonel simply been trying to have word of ‘Mr. Darcy’s’ bad behavior reach London?
And why Fitzwilliam? Why have her call him by his cousin’s surname?
She could only guess at the answers, because she hardly knew Mr. Darcy at all.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Seated at the dinner table with her parents and youngest two sisters, Elizabeth pushed roasted potatoes about on her plate. The meal was light, as most of the family had been at Jane’s wedding breakfast quite late into the afternoon, which suited Elizabeth. She had no appetite, thoughts of Fitzwilliam…rather, Mr. Darcy, souring her stomach.
“…believe that Mr. Darcy was Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was Mr. Darcy, that whole time,” Mrs. Bennet prattled, her endless rehashing of the news seemingly designed to augment Elizabeth’s torment. “To think, my Kitty nearly married a man as wealthy as Mr. Darcy of Pemberley.”
“I cannot believe that Georgiana did not tell me,” Lydia groused. “I thought we were friends. I am quite put out with her. I will get her address from Miss Bingley and write to her to tell her so.”
“As will I.” Kitty stabbed a potato with extra force. “I am quite put out as well.”
“You were not her particular friend. I am the only one she asked to call her Georgiana. I am the most put out.”
“But I am the one who wanted to marry her brother. I am—”
“Girls, enough,” Mrs. Bennet cut in. “You were both ill-used, but you will write no such thing to Miss Darcy. Not while Mr. Darcy remains unwed. You do not want to hurt your chances.”
“I do not want to marry him,” Lydia declared. “So I will write to her.”
“You most certainly will not. Not while your sister still has a chance—” A knock sounded, silencing Elizabeth’s mother.
In a patter of feet, a maid passed the dining room doorway.
Mrs. Bennet frowned. “Who would call at the dinner hour?”
“Did you invite guests?” Mr. Bennet asked.
“If I had invited guests, we would hardly have begun eating without them, would we?”
Lydia snorted at their mother’s reply, stifling laughter.
Elizabeth’s heart lodged in her throat. Could it be Mr. Darcy, finally returned from Scotland? Had he come to Longbourn to make amends?
Did she want him to?
In silence, they waited, straining for sound from the entrance hall.
Jane appeared in the doorway with the maid, who announced, “Mrs. Bingley.”
Elizabeth took in Jane’s pallor and red-rimmed eyes as her sister said, “I forgot something in my room.” With that, Jane fled. Moments later, footfalls pattered up the staircase.
Mrs. Bennet set down her fork. “Perhaps I should—”
