Even Georgiana could not see past my role as her brother. It had not yet occurred to her to think of me as Elizabeth’s husband, and to a degree I had managed to find cover behind her absorption in her first true friend. Fitzwilliam, who knew me better than anyone, had seen what should have been clear to anyone with two eyes—like Mr Bennet, for instance—but I did not fear exposure from either of them.
Still, my anonymity could not last forever, and I coveted what time I could yet steal to be Elizabeth’s secret lover. If I had gone down to breakfast that morning still reeling as I was from the ardency of our midnight tryst, I would have betrayed my position by such looks of adoration and raw desire that now possessed me.
Before I could change my mind, I pulled forwards the ink pot and scribbled out a short note.
My love, I cannot face you this morning without betraying my feelings. Forgive me for my weakness, but I fear I might show my hand before you are ready. My lips are still burning for you.
“Carsten,” I said, holding out the note I had carefully folded. “I am afraid I must entangle you in my affairs.”
To his credit, he did not smirk at me. “Certainly, Mr Darcy,” he said, taking the note and tucking it in his pocket. By this gesture, I knew he was aware to whom I had written, and not only was I assured of his discretion, I was grateful for it beyond measure. With my letters unopened on the table behind me, I took the back stairs and went to the mews where I asked for my sturdiest mount and waited for him to be saddled.
I then rode directly to where my cousin was billeted—some fifteen miles from Wellington’s Barracks at Buckingham Palace.
Fitzwilliam’s choice to lodge there had been easy when the main headquarters had become cramped with an influx of fledgling officers and aides. Youngsters, he claimed, were a nuisance which he now had the luxury of both rank and tenure to avoid. The other advantage to him was that of distance, which was not great, but was too far for those who could not trouble themselves to seek him out. In other words, he was beyond the easy grasp of his parents and elder brother, and being entirely caught up in her own society, it did not occur to his mother that he had not given up the convenience of being able to come to London whenever he liked—which was often. In truth, his failure to visit us was unlike him, and confirmed my belief he was avoiding my house.
My cousin received me with some surprise, looking up from a table of maps where he had been standing with two other men. They instantly left the room, and I stripped off my gloves and said, “I hope you know what you are doing, Fitzwilliam.”
He met me with an appraising look, and gesturing ironically at the table, he drawled, “I should hope by now I can read a map, Darcy.”
“You may deflect all you like, but you know why I am here.”
We regarded one another as men sometimes do—bristling with forceful intent to be understood without words. Because my moral position was stronger in this instance, however, he was the first to stand down.
His shoulders fell ever so slightly, and after looking away for a second, he addressed me with a touch more courtesy.
“Have you eaten?” he asked.
I could hardly glare at him much longer, and I told him that no, I had not eaten.
A young aide cleared the table and Donaldson came into the room with a cold collation. We washed this soldierly repast down with tall glasses of porter and began to speak more congenially.
“Georgiana is hosting a dinner party,” I said.
“I heard. I assume you are here to convince me to go?”
“I do not rightly know. Georgiana would like you to come, but it does not seem to be my place to interfere.”
“It is not. Have you been to see my parents?”
“With Mrs Bennet and her daughters? My word, you think a great deal of my courage.”
“No, I do not. I do, however, think very highly of your stupidity.”
“I wonder if you know just how stupidlyyouare behaving right now.”
“I assure you I do.”
We spoke in this oddly inconclusive and desultory style for another few moments, and then I stood to go. As he walked me to the stables, I said, “You know you cannot avoid her forever. I mean to marry her sister.”
“I know,” he said clasping my hand.
“What should I tell Georgiana?”
“Tell her I shall be there if I can.”
“Which means precisely what?”
“That I have not yet made up my mind.”
