“He is,” Darcy replied. “Richard has always possessed the ability to make himself agreeable wherever he goes.”
“And now he is simply Colonel Fitzwilliam,” she said. “You said he resigned his commission.”
“I did,” Darcy said, and for a moment there was something like satisfaction in his voice. “I meant to tease him by dropping his rank. Truly, he will always be Colonel Fitzwilliam. My cousin is eager to begin his life as a free man, or so he claims. He acquired a considerable sum. Prize money, chiefly. He has invested it wisely, with the intention to eventually purchase an estate.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened despite herself. “An estate?”
Darcy nodded. “An excellent opportunity for a second son. His fortune is sufficient to allow him independence.”
“How very extraordinary,” Elizabeth said, meaning it.A younger son with independence. A man who can marry as he wishes.She wondered what that felt like—choice unshaded by necessity.
“And he seems quite cheerful for a man who has only just returned from war.”
Darcy’s expression grew thoughtful. “Richard is resilient. He does not easily allow himself to be crushed by circumstances.”
Elizabeth heard admiration beneath the plain statement. Perhaps even affection. It was no small thing for a man like Darcy to admire openly.
“And you wished him here,” Elizabeth said, allowing a touch of teasing to return, “to distract you from haranguing Mr. Bingley.” Jane had confided in her sister Mr. Bingley’s complaints, which she said were disguised as friendly exasperation with his guest.
The corner of Darcy’s mouth lifted. “Bingley exaggerates.”
“Oh, does he?” Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled. “You are ever upright and honest, and so I must take your part.”
Darcy looked at her, and something in his gaze steadied, as though her levity did not diminish her, but rather completed her. “I confess,” he said quietly, “I wished him here for more reasons than one.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught. The room felt suddenly warmer, though the fire had not changed. She forced herself to answer lightly, because she could do nothing else. “Then you have brought more variety to Hertfordshire. We are not often afforded novelty.”
“I thought you might be pleased,” Darcy said.
She did not know whether he meant novelty, or his cousin, or his presence at her side. Perhaps all three. The uncertainty pressed her to respond teasingly.
“I cannot promise my mother will be pleased,” Elizabeth said, grasping for safer ground. “She will immediately decide whether your cousin is a suitable match for one of my sisters and act accordingly.” It was Elizabeth’s turn to exaggerate. Mrs. Bennet was not an overzealous matchmaking mama, even if she did wish for fine matches for her daughters.
Darcy’s eyes flicked, perhaps instinctively, toward Jane and his cousin at the refreshment table. Colonel Fitzwilliam had leaned slightly toward Jane as he spoke; Jane listened with anattentive sweetness that made everyone feel valued. Their heads were close enough to suggest warmth, not intimacy.
At the same moment, Bingley appeared at Jane’s other side.
“There,” Elizabeth murmured. “As if summoned by the mere sight of her. Your friend is very attentive.”
Darcy’s expression turned unreadable. “Bingley is quick to attach himself where he feels interest.”
“Yes, he has paid my sister a great deal of attention. It seems, however, that Mr. Bingley is to have some competition.”
Darcy did not contradict her. He merely watched the scene with a stillness that suggested he shared her views—or carried a deeper one.
Elizabeth followed his gaze. Jane stood between two gentlemen now—Bingley on one side, Fitzwilliam on the other. Bingley spoke with animation, his face glowing, as if Jane’s mere presence improved the world. Fitzwilliam listened with amused interest, occasionally adding a remark that drew a smile from Jane. Jane’s expression remained serene, but Elizabeth knew her sister well enough to see the faint uncertainty in her eyes.
“I do not know what Jane will think of having the attention of two gentlemen,” Elizabeth said softly. “One is enough to manage.”
Darcy glanced at her. “Do you believe she will be troubled by it?”
“Not troubled,” Elizabeth said, choosing her words carefully. “But Jane is not vain. She does not delight in conquest. She wishes only to think well of everyone, and such situations make that difficult.”
Darcy’s gaze returned to Jane. “Then I hope my cousin does not add to her discomfort.”
“If he continues to speak of lemon cakes and collapsing civilization, I think she will endure it,” Elizabeth said, and then, unable to prevent herself, added, “He is charming.”
Darcy’s eyes held a faint spark. “He is.”
