Page 117 of The Engagement at Longbourn

A Gentleman Dresses for His Wedding

At Netherfield, Darcy was awake before his valet.

Jenkins entered at half past six and found him standing at the window in his shirtsleeves. “Sir.”

Darcy turned.

His valet looked at him, then at the untouched bed hangings. “You did not sleep.”

“I slept.”

“For how long?”

Darcy looked back out the window.

Jenkins sighed with the confidence of a servant who had attended the same master since youth. “I have laid out the dark blue coat.”

“The black.”

“The blue sits better across the shoulders.”

“The black.”

“Miss Bennet has seen the black.”

Darcy turned slowly.

Jenkins remained expressionless.

“The blue, then.”

“Very good, sir.”

Darcy narrowed his eyes. Jenkins began arranging the cravat. The injured leg no longer required a splint, but stiffness remained worst in the mornings. Darcy sat to pull on his boot and paused when pain tugged beneath the scar.

Jenkins noticed. “Shall I fetch the cane?”

“Yes.”

There had been a time Darcy would have refused from pride. He had learned there was little dignity in pretending pain did not exist and then limping badly enough for everyone to notice. By eight, he was dressed. The blue coat did sit better.

Richard entered without knocking.

Darcy looked at the door. “Is this a family defect?”

“Yes.” Richard handed him a small glass. “Brandy.”

“No.”

“It is medicinal.”

“I am marrying Elizabeth in two hours. I prefer to remember it.”

Richard drank the brandy himself. “Wise.”

Darcy adjusted one cuff.

Richard watched. “Your hands are shaking.”