Page 157 of Pride and Prejudice Resolutions

Georgiana twisted her napkin. "It was the night ofLa Clemenza di Tito.We were in Robert's box. Miss Bingley was in the pit with her sister and Mr Hurst." She paused, gathering courage. "Mr Hurst was drunk. Very drunk. He became violent. He grabbed Miss Bingley's wrist."

Jane gasped. Elizabeth's face darkened. Darcy's gaze went cold.

"Richard saw it happen," Georgiana continued. "He did not hesitate. He went down to the pit, removed Mr Hurst from the theatre, and ensured she was safe." She looked at her cousin, her eyes bright with admiration. "He was so brave. He did not make a scene. He simply... handled it. Like a soldier."

The Earl grunted. "Good. You did the right thing, son."

"Mr Hurst is vile." Jane's voice trembled with uncharacteristic fury. "Poor Miss Bingley. She must have been terrified."

"She was." Richard turned to Jane. "But she stood her ground. She did not flinch. She did not weep. She thanked me afterward and returned to her seat as though nothing had happened."

"That," Darcy looked at his cousin, "is... unexpected."

Elizabeth turned to him, raising her brow in question. "You are surprised? After years of her glaring at you with enough force to melt steel?"

"I am surprised she did not glare Hurst into submission herself."

"She did not need to," Richard said, sharper than intended. "I handled it."

Robert leaned back in his chair, grinning like a cat that had cornered a stupid mouse. "Oh, so you were the hero. How very noble, Richard. Swooping in to rescue the damsel in distress."

"She was not in distress. She was managing."

"But you helped anyway."

"It was the decent thing to do."

"The decent thing," Elizabeth echoed, her eyes dancing. "Tell me, Cousin, do you perform decent things for every lady at the opera? Or only the ones you claim to find intolerable?"

Richard's jaw clenched. "This is absurd."

"Is it?" Elizabeth leaned forward, radiating innocent curiosity that fooled absolutely no one. "Richard. Be honest with us. Areyou helping Miss Bingley find a husband... or are you making certain no one else gets her?"

"Yes, Richard, tell us. Your mother and I asked you to court her. Marry her and get her money. What the bloody hell are you doing?" the Earl boomed.

Dead silence.

The servants froze mid-pour. The candles seemed to flicker in anticipation. Even the portraits on the walls appeared to lean in, waiting for the answer.

Richard stared at his father.

"I do not know."

"Do you not?" Jane asked gently. "Richard... do you care for her?"

Richard stood so abruptly his chair scraped against the floor. "I am not discussing this."

The Earl's fist came down on the table like a gavel. "Sit down, Richard. We are discussing this."

"I will not—"

"You will." Lady Matlock's voice carried the weight of thirty years of managing unruly sons. "Sit. Down."

Richard sat.

The Countess steepled her fingers, never a promising sign. "Richard, darling. Easter is approaching. Your father will not wait forever."

"Three weeks," the Earl grunted. "You have three weeks to secure a wife, or I am shipping you to the West Indies. I have already written to the General. He is expecting you."