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“Elizabeth?” She swiveled back to view William’s concerned expression. “You are as cold as ice, dearest,” he said with some surprise as he took her hand and chafed it between his own. “Lady Catherine blusters, but she has no power to challenge our marriage.”
Elizabeth shivered, and her husband placed an arm around her.
“Come, let us return to Matlock House.”
“Elizabeth,” Georgiana said, embracing her. “I am so happy for you.” She pulled back, still holding one of Elizabeth’s hands. “Why was Mr. Howard here? Did you invite him, brother?”
William’s grip tightened. “Howard? Where?”
Elizabeth blinked. “He was the man,” she said, barely above a whisper. “The man I saw in the ballroom at Netherfield.”
“He dared!” Darcy roared. His cousins had placed themselves strategically between him and the door. “I will hear from him? He will hear from me!”
The moment the final guests had departed Matlock House, his cousins had waylaid him, dragging him into the library while the rest of the family removed to the music room. The mask he had worn for Elizabeth’s sake had slipped away once they were sequestered.
“No,” Fitz said calmly. There were lines of strain around his eyes. “You will not.”
“For once, the estimable colonel is correct,” added Henry, and Fitz struck his brother’s arm with the back of his hand. “Howard would be pleased to have you chasing him through London like a madman.”
Darcy ran both hands through his hair. “He approached my wife not a quarter of an hour after we spoke our vows.” He took a step towards the door, but his cousins closed ranks and would not allow him to pass. Frustrated, he cried, “I cannot, I will not allow this to go unanswered.”
“We are not suggesting that you should,” Fitz replied. “Only that you do not fall prey to his provocation. Kindly recall that you do not believe in duels. Use your talent for strategy instead.”
“It does not help to have Fitzwilliams who are constantly interfering in my life,” Darcy complained, though he was no longer shouting. “I asked your father not to send his letter to Aunt Catherine express. And you ushered her right in, Henry.”
Henry smirked. “She did not arrive in time to disrupt the actual ceremony, did she?”
“No thanks to you,” Darcy shot back.
“You think not?” Henry asked challengingly.
Fitz eyed his brother. “Please tell me you did not, Henry.”
Henry shrugged and examined his fingernails. “It fits our story perfectly. Darcy and the radiant if rather unconventional Miss Elizabeth were forced to marry quickly and quietly to avoid Lady Catherine’s wrath. With the assistance of the countess, you were hoping to present Lady Catherine with a fait accompli and thus prevent a breach in the family. You were forced to rush—you barely finished the ceremony as it was.” He grinned. “And Aunt Catherine was so obliging as to play the outraged mother. Given that, what is an express or two between cousins?”
“I do not need your help managing rumors,” Darcy said, his annoyance plainly evident. “The fracas my aunt kicked up was the only reason Howard was able to speak with Elizabeth. My God, man, what if he had meant to harm her?”
What he would not do to have Howard in front of him now! Elizabeth was the bravest woman he knew, but no one could withstand these repeated attempts to injure without consequence. She was as afraid as she had been when he found her hiding in the attic, and on their wedding day! He could run the man through and not feel an ounce of regret.
No, it would not stand.
He turned to Fitz. "And you, going to your mother . . .” He stopped. Truly, that had worked out rather well. “Never mind,” he said gruffly when Fitz raised his eyebrows. “In fact, I thank you.”
“Darcy, you addlepate,” Henry said, “why are you spending your wedding day closeted with us when you ought to be closeted with Elizabeth?”
His temper could stretch no father, and he stepped to Henry with every intention of flattening the man. Henry just grinned.
Fitz restrained him, placing two hands on his chest. “Darcy, you need to release your anger, or you will not be able to help your wife. She needs you to be your usual steady self.”
Darcy stared at Fitz. Blast it all. Elizabeth’s health and happiness were the only things that would have any influence on him today, and Fitz knew it. He made his way over to a window and leaned against the sash. The glass panes were cold, and he stood there for a few moments, allowing them to cool his temper.
“Angelo’s,” he said at last, though it was far less than the man deserved. “I will meet Howard there.”
“To what end, Darce?” Fitz asked quietly.
Darcy’s grip on the window frame tightened. “It will not go unanswered, even if sport is the only way to do it.”
“Well,” Henry crooned, ignoring Fitz’s scowl and rubbing his hands together, “I do enjoy a wager.”
