“I am obliged for your apology, but doing so whilst in the very next breath insulting my family—who, by your own admission—are below your distinction, is unconscionable. You are a gentleman, and I am a gentleman’s daughter, and I am of the view that we are of equal standing despite the difference in our family’s fortunes. Furthermore, not only was my family below your notice, but your actions towards MrWickham, whom all of Meryton knows you disdain, have also persuaded me against you. You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it.”
The night seemed to close around him. The hedges stood like walls. The path, like a corridor to a life he had been denied. Once more, Wickham had entered his life like a thief and stolen his future.
Darcy bowed because it was the only dignity he had left. He did not remember walking back to Rosings. He only remembered the library—his hands taking a book without seeing it—then the look of his visage in the mirror as he entered his room. His eyes seemed haunted, dark violet circles prominent beneath them. Bile coated his throat as it did any time he thought of the man who had been closer than a brother. That blackguard’s slimy tendrils had touched Elizabeth’s heart! Darcy’s heart shrank with hatred, and he prayed this day would end.
He fell into bed with the taste of humiliation in his mouth, again, and the certainty that the world had become untrustworthy. “It is a truth” was all he remembered before his consciousness failed him.
His eyes opened on birdsong.
Again.
Darcy stared at the canopy.
Outside, somewhere in the distance, a goose honked like a judge delivering a sentence.
“No,” Darcy whispered. “Not again.”
He did not need Hines to tell him. He did not need the invitation. He knew. His insufferable aunt would invite her guests in order to please her ridiculous need for company. She was able to lord over someone other than Anne, so why would she ever consider not inviting people once more?
He sat up, heart pounding, and said the only thing that felt remotely sensible.
“I will not propose today.”
As with every day, soft-boiled eggs and toast appeared at Darcy’s place; his tea served by the footman with clockwork precision. The infernal birds would not hush their springtime calls, but if he spent another second in the breakfast room, he would scream, and Lady Catherine would know of his turmoil. He would rather face the megrim-inducing din of nature than his aunt.
“Would you care to inspect the park with me, Cousin?”
Richard grunted whilst hunched over his own toast.
“Can you not eat in a more gentlemanly manner? You know how Lady Catherine hates it when you consume breakfast so.”
His cousin swallowed and placed another piece of toast in his mouth. “Lady Catherine has never had the privilege of starving in His Majesty’s Army between supply trains.”
“Well, do not let her catch you over dinner. I reminded you yesterday, and you have not changed a wink despite promising me you would use your manners.”
Richard raised an eyebrow as he touched his napkin to the corner of both lips in an exaggerated manner. “You did no such thing.”
Darcy closed his eyes before he was reduced to childish behaviour and stood. His cousin could deny the truth if he wished, but he was raised the son of an earl and knew better than to behave as if in the middle of camp.
Darcy spoke without thinking, almost to no one in particular. “Have our coats brought down.” A footman bowed his head and was off before Richard could moan once more about being rushed through another meal.
“Whatever is going on in that proud head of yours, Darcy, you must admit that Rosings is perfect this time of year,” Richard said, stabbing at a hedge with his walking stick.
“Do you suppose Miss Bennet will be walking this early in the morning?” Darcy blurted, letting his musings control his mouth.
“I do not know the habits of the parson’s relatives.” Richard stabbed at another hedge before turning abruptly. “And neither do you.” He pointed at Darcy’s chest with the stick.
“Should I been garde?” Darcy said drolly.
“You like her.”
Darcy attempted to deny it, shaking his head, but his face betrayed him. He smiled at the thought of her and the accompanying flush of humiliation at being discovered.
Richard gasped. “You do! I knew it. Anne tried to convince me otherwise, saying you were simply polite, but I happen to know that you are never polite to anyone of the female persuasion lest their matchmaking mothers get their claws into you.”
“I do not—”
Richard shook his walking stick as he shook his head. “You speak with a frankness that borders on incivility, and yourremarks about the attendees at any function are unnecessarily pointed.”
