When the earl removed his granddaughter to London—as he surely would—she would be courted by a host of gentlemen eager to attach themselves to her beauty, her wit, or, worse, her fortune. The thought tightened something unpleasant in Darcy’s chest, and he shifted in his seat to dispel the sensation.
“Welcome, Darcy,” his host said genially, appearing to have forgiven him for his earlier slight towards the man’s granddaughter. Darcy felt a faint, disproportionate spark of hope. If the grandfather had forgiven him, then mayhap Miss Elizabeth had softened as well. She had seemed to do so yesterday, but he had seen her only briefly that morning. Miss Elizabeth had been above stairs with her cousin before his departure, leaving him uncertain of her current opinion.
“Thank you, sir,” Darcy replied, inclining his head. “It is very good to see you again after so many years. I keep in contact with only a few of my father’s friends since much of my time has been occupied with the management of Pemberley.”
Mr Grant nodded. “I have not thought of my old friend as often as I ought in recent years, and for that I am sorry. Much of the last years of my life has been spent abroad—much to my granddaughter’s detriment, I am sure—but the Crown has had need of me. When I met your cousin, however, I was reminded strongly of George Darcy.”
Darcy’s expression softened, even as a familiar ache stirred beneath the surface. “I wish I had been able to spend more time with my father after I left university,” he confessed quietly. “He prepared me well to manage the estate, but our time together was far too short. Georgiana… she has been an orphan for too long. My father named Richard and me as her guardians, and while I understand why he would not entrust her to my Aunt Catherine, I have never fully understood why he did not appoint my Uncle Matlock. My Aunt Matlock, at least, would have known precisely what to do with a young lady.”
“That, in fact, is what I wished to discuss with you,” Mr Grant said, surprising Darcy enough that he straightened instinctively. “Your cousin’s tongue became quite loose after too much liquor one evening. He is not a man who confides easily, but I am skilled at drawing out what I wish to know. From him, I gained much of the story concerning the incidents at Ramsgate. How is Miss Darcy?”
Darcy’s breath caught, and his eyes closed briefly as the import of the earl’s words settled upon him. A wave of mortification swept through him—mortification on Richard’s behalf, and on his own. Though his cousin was a jovial man, he was not typically indiscreet; yet in his cups he could be more forthcoming than he realised. Darcy prayed fervently that Fitzwilliam had not shared that story with anyone else. The very thought made his jaw tighten and his pulse thrum with an uncomfortable mixture of fear and resentment.
He opened his eyes slowly, bracing himself for whatever reprimand might follow.
“She is recovering—or at least attempting to do so. I have engaged a new companion for her. Mrs Annesley is a recent widow and was already known to us by reputation; my auntspoke of her favourably long before the situation arose. Still, I did not rely upon that alone. This time, I knew the lady well who I asked to be my sister’s companion. I believed I had exercised caution with her former companion, having gone over her references carefully, but it appears the woman proved more adept at deception than I had supposed.”
“Yes, I always believed your father far too lenient with his godson,” Mr Grant said with a huff
“I told him so more than once. I do not know if you were aware, but your father received several letters from the headmaster of Cambridge concerning Wickham’s conduct—letters which threatened to have him sent down on more than one occasion. Your father always managed to prevent it, but as you know, Wickham did not trouble himself to read for his final examinations and therefore took no degree. He could never have taken orders, even had he desired to do so, and thus he has no just cause to complain that you did not give him the living.”
Darcy sat back in his chair, momentarily taken aback by the depth of the gentleman’s knowledge regarding matters he had believed entirely private. When he recalled that Mr Grant had long been employed as a skilled negotiator—indeed, a man whose duties might well have extended into the realm of espionage—he realised he ought not to be surprised. Such a man would naturally excel at discovering precisely what he wished to know.
“I warned Wickham that if I encountered him again—if he ever attempted to interfere with my family after Ramsgate—I would have him sent to Marshalsea for the debts he owes,” Darcy said at last. “I possess receipts amounting to more than five hundred pounds; a quarter of that sum I purchased from shopkeepers in Ramsgate after his attempted seduction.”
Mr Grant shook his head slowly. “I understand your desire to shield honest tradesmen from the consequences of that scoundrel’s behaviour, but I cannot help wondering whether stepping in has not allowed Wickham to escape accountability for far too long. Had you permitted others to pursue him for what he owes, he might have been dealt with before now.”
“Most of the receipts I hold were incurred during his time at Cambridge, or later in Lambton and Kympton,” Darcy replied, shaking his head in return. “There are several debt collectors in London who seek him even now. For the most part, however, I have been ignorant of his whereabouts. He is adept at vanishing whenever it suits him.”
“I suggest you do precisely as you threatened,” Mr Grant said gravely, before clearing his throat and turning the conversation. “But that is not the matter I wished to address today. I wished to inform you that your cousin will be returning to England within the next few weeks; indeed, he is already en route. I have invited him to stay with me at my cottage, and I intend that Elizabeth shall join me and preside as my hostess.”
He paused, studying Darcy with a measuring look. “I have two reasons for telling you this. The first is simple courtesy—you ought to know where your cousin will be lodged, for he will be with me at least until the new year. His general has granted him an extended leave, and Fitzwilliam has agreed to pass much of it under my roof.”
A faint smile touched the earl’s lips. “My second purpose is to invite you to stay with us, should it please you, and to encourage you to bring your sister. Your cousin’s only hesitation in accepting my invitation was his desire to see his ward. Once he learnt you were in the neighbourhood, he believed you might allow Miss Darcy to join us. He seemed certain you would notwish her forced into close company with Miss Bingley, and I myself think Elizabeth would prove a good and steady friend to her.”
Darcy could not help the small smile that tugged at his mouth. The thought of escaping Miss Bingley’s persistent hints—and the constant implication of a greater intimacy between them—was exceedingly welcome. Bingley would not object to his removing to Millbrook Cottage; indeed, Darcy suspected his friend would be relieved, knowing full well how little patience he had for Caroline Bingley’s pretensions.
“I will write to Georgiana at once to extend the invitation and to inform her of our cousin’s return,” Darcy said. “She will be overjoyed to see Richard again, and I believe she will take great pleasure in meeting one of my father’s closest friends. I also agree that Miss Elizabeth would be an excellent companion for her.”
“Very well,” Mr Grant replied, his smile broad and entirely satisfied. “I confess, I am particularly eager to introduce your cousin to my granddaughter. The pair share a number of interests, and as I know Fitzwilliam to be a good and honourable man, I believe he would make her an excellent husband. She possesses both an estate and a respectable dowry—precisely what your cousin would require in order to resign his commission. He is a man in whom I could place my trust, and I am convinced that he would never marry her solely for her fortune, but only if he truly cared for her. I am persuaded they will suit exceedingly well.”
Darcy stared at him, utterly speechless for a moment. His breath caught at once, and a peculiar tightness coiled low in his chest—an uncomfortable blend of shock, disbelief, and something dangerously akin to jealousy. For several moments he couldneither think nor speak. The notion of Colonel Fitzwilliam—his cousin—being matched with his Elizabeth Bennet was so unexpected, and so profoundly unwelcome, that it robbed him of his composure.
When Darcy finally managed to draw a steady breath, his voice still wavered. “I… I had not realised… that is to say, I would not have presumed…” Heat crept unwanted along his collar as he turned his gaze aside. If he met the earl’s eyes, he feared the man might see far more than Darcy intended to reveal. “My cousin is indeed a man of excellent character, but I had no notion you had contemplated such an arrangement. I have often wished he might find the means to resign his commission, yet I had not considered…” His voice thinned, the rest of the thought slipping from him as dread and disbelief tangled too thickly to untangle.
Suddenly, a dull ache bloomed in Darcy’s chest—an ache that seemed to tighten with each unsteady beat of his heart. Elizabeth—married to another man. Elizabeth as Richard’s wife. The notion struck him with a violence of feeling he had not anticipated as though some unseen hand had reached inside him and twisted sharply. He had no claim upon her, no right even to harbour an objection, and yet the thought hollowed him all the same, leaving a cold, echoing space where something warm had settled only days before.
Mr Grant’s calm, steady voice cut through the ringing in his ears and recalled him, abruptly, to the present. Darcy was not entirely certain how long he had sat there speechless, utterly discomposed. “I will not force her to marry anyone,” the older man said, his tone firm enough to jolt Darcy from the stupor that had seized him.
He did not think that Mr Grant had been aware of his distraction, but his words did a little to settle his unease. “Imerely wish to make the introduction. Although I believe they would suit, that does not mean they shall marry. I hope she will consider him. I shall encourage the match, but I will never obligate her to anyone without her leave.”
The reassurance barely skimmed the surface of the turmoil roiling within him. Rationally, Darcy understood the justice of Mr Grant’s words—Elizabeth was free, entirely free, to choose whom she pleased. She ought to be free. Still, the thought of her choosing Richard—of her turning that bright, earnest smile upon his cousin, the one she had recently bestowed upon Darcy himself—sent a sharp, breath-stealing pressure through his chest.
Darcy drew in another breath, slow and deliberate, as though the simple act might steady the frantic pulse in his throat. He had come to Millbrook Cottage prepared to discuss matters of business, or even to discuss something related to his guardianship of his sister, or for the elder man to pass along some words of wisdom. It had never occured to him—nor could have ever imagined—that he would be forced to contemplate Elizabeth Bennet as the wife of another man.
Least of all Richard. Richard, who deserved a peaceful life after years of service, who deserved a woman who might truly care for him. Darcy would not begrudge him that—not in thought, not in word. But the idea of his cousin winning Elizabeth… he could not pretend it would be easy to bear.
CHAPTER EIGHT
