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“Look how Louise Grant is following Mr. Darcy with her eyes and likewise, Millicent Martin. If her husband turns around, he will be quite shocked.”

“Oh, I doubt that, Henrietta,” Mrs. Courtland retorted. “He is too busy eyeing Mrs. Pickens.”

Another round of ribald laughter garnered them even more notice, so they removed themselves to an obscure corner where they could do as they pleased. As they passed Lady Flanders, they heard her berating her daughter.

“Did I not tell you years ago, Agatha, to befriend Georgiana Darcy? But did you heed my advice? No, and now she is married, and you have no entry into his circle. You might have had the rich, handsome Mr. Darcy instead of being married to your poor excuse of a husband.”

Agatha responded acidly, “One would think you wanted Mr. Darcy for yourself!” She watched her mother’s eyes light up at the thought. “Mother! You are twice his age!”

“I am still a woman! Besides, wisdom in certain areas can put one at greater advantage, my dear.”

~~~*~~~

As William escorted the Widow Preston to supper, Richard changed his mother’s seating arrangements so that he was able to sit across from them and listen in on their conversation. As a result, he learned that Mrs. Preston was quite conversant on every subject William broached. Nevertheless, as he studied William’s conversation and interaction with the woman, he could see no evidence that his cousin had any feelings towards her other than friendship.

And so it went all evening, Richard following William around and making sport of his relationship with the plain Mrs. Preston, while at least a dozen handsome women openly salivated, hoping William would recognise the naked desire in their eyes. Richard sighed, thinking of how he would have loved to have had the opportunities that his cousin ignored.

I could just as easily love a rich, beautiful woman, as a rich, ugly one, and it would be much easier to take her to bed.

As if he had walked from the dark into the light, suddenly everything became perfectly clear, and Richard knew what attraction the Widow Preston held for William—she was not handsome, thus he would not fall in love with her. His stoic cousin, who had rejected every entreaty to align himself with this or that heiress for the last decade, was giving up, or at least giving in to a marriage of convenience.

But what would cause Darcy to capitulate? Of course—Georgiana! She told Mother that she is insisting that he marry and have a family because she is worried that he will fall back into melancholy. AND what caused the melancholy in the first place? Why a woman… it has to be a woman!

Richard’s mind began spinning with ideas. A woman he still loves but cannot have. That is it! He will marry someone he does not love, because he is still in love with someone he cannot have. And since it all seemed to have begun after we returned from Rosings two years ago, what woman was at Rosings that year that had never been in attendance before? Elizabeth Bennet!

Smiling smugly, Richard looked up to see that he was all alone near the balcony. Amazingly, the people milling about him were totally unaware of the great conundrum that he had just solved. Gazing around the room, he noticed, however, that his mother was looking at him quizzically from her position among a group of ladies. He gave her a grand smile, which she immediately returned. Walking in her direction, he passed William, who was now dancing a second set with Mrs. Preston, much to the chagrin of the other ladies.

Evelyn Fitzwilliam excused herself from the group and held out her hands to her son as he approached and whispered, “I am so glad your father was civil to Fitzwilliam tonight. He has been simply inconsolable since our nephew went to Scotland instead of marrying Anne. I suppose now that she is with Catherine at Rosings, things have quieted down.” She glanced at her son. “You know your father does not talk to me of his sister and her problems, since we always disagree.”

“Well, I am happy my cousin did not marry that lunatic woman!”

“Richard! Watch your manners,” she hissed, looking about to see if anyone heard. She leaned in to whisper, “I agree, but we do not need to make our opinions public.” Richard nodded. “Besides, it is Catherine’s fault that Anne is a candidate for Bedlam.”

Abruptly, his mother changed the subject. “I find it difficult to grasp that Fitzwilliam is really in my house and seems so happy! I do not remember him ever dancing twice in one night with anyone not family and surely not with the same woman!” Richard dutifully turned to peruse his cousin as his mother exclaimed, “I expect we will be wishing them joy shortly!”

“I certainly hope not, Mother!”

Her brow knit in consternation. ‘Why ever would you say such a thing? I thought you wanted him to be happy.”

“That is why I object! Mrs. Preston will never accomplish that, as he is not in love with her. He will be without any prospect of felicity.”

“How can you say that? She is an excellent choice. She is a respected member of society with wealth and connections, and she knows how to be mistress of an estate. True, she is no beauty, but he may come to care for her. Love is not necessary in a marriage!”

“I know all her qualifications, Mother! If she were a horse, she would suffice!”

“Richard!”

“It is true! I know my cousin better than anyone. He is of a peculiar kind, and he needs a woman he loves and who loves him. As it is, he is heartbroken over another, and if he marries that woman, it will be only to make Georgiana happy, while it will make him utterly miserable.”

“How do you know he is heartbroken over another?”

“Why do you think he has hidden away the last two years, and now, suddenly, agrees to consider marriage to that—to someone he does not love?”

“Why indeed?” she replied, awaiting Richard’s explanation as her eyes returned to Fitzwilliam with new insight.

“He thinks it will help him to forget the one he regrets.”

“And you know this woman?”