Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Colonel Fitzwilliam put a finger to his lips to silence the waiting footman, then leant closer to the drawing room door and listened carefully. He felt a frisson of pleasure to hear Lady Tuppence's dulcet tones within. He might have baulked upon first seeing her—their previous meeting having gone so badly—but her first words were so cutting, and her bright eyes so piercing, she had slashed through all his lingering resentment in an instant. With all impediments out of the way, he had been quick to conclude that she was a truly magnificent creature—fierce, loyal, indecently attractive. She was also rich, which gave him leave to advance his admiration from the hypothetical to the earnest.

She had been vastly entertaining throughout dinner, perhaps even intimidating Georgiana a little, for his young cousin had not said a great deal. It was not that Lady Tuppence was in any way unkind; Fitzwilliam merely fancied that she had little interest in mollycoddling fainter hearts than her own. That she had so easily forgiven Darcy and him their blunder was testament to her goodness—as was her attempt to assist Miss Bennet. Fitzwilliam was particularly grateful that she had not sustained her criticism on that subject for long, for he did not think Darcy would have held up to it well.

He was not fooled for a moment by his cousin's feigned sanguinity. The colour had drained from Darcy's face when he realised what he had done, and it had not returned since. Fitzwilliam felt for him—it was an exceedingly unfortunate mishap—though it was all somewhat moot at this point in proceedings. Darcy had, himself, forsworn any possibility of re-establishing the acquaintance before this disaster happened—but even had he not, there would be no chance of doing so now. For, assuming the intelligence Fitzwilliam had received earlier that day from Mulhall was correct, Miss Bennet's happiness and protection were about to become somebody else's concern, and whatever Darcy may or may not have done to offend her would soon be irrelevant.

Fitzwilliam was a man trained in battle, however, and he knew that a war was not won by giving up one's own position simply because one's ally had been shot down. He tossed the footman a sixpence for his patience and let himself into the drawing room.

"Ladies! I hope I am not interrupting?"

"You hope no such thing," Lady Tuppence replied with a small but thrilling smirk.

"True." He joined them where they were sitting on two long couches, arranged perpendicularly to the fireplace, though the fire was mercifully unlit. He sat next to his cousin, facing Lady Tuppence, whose gaze he held as he added, "Quite deliberate."

"Where are the others?" Georgiana enquired.

"Deep in conversation about soil drainage or something equally tedious. I left them to their brandy and came in search of livelier company."

Georgiana looked relieved, which was intriguing.

"Why?" he asked. "Were you talking about something you would not like them to hear?"

"Yes," Lady Tuppence answered. "We were talking about Mr Darcy."

"Were you indeed?"

Georgiana blushed and began to stammer an explanation, but her ladyship interrupted to say, more intelligibly, "I asked Miss Darcy why her brother said earlier that he did not think Miss Bennet would like to speak to him. She was just telling me that he and Miss Bennet were romantically attached at one point."

Fitzwilliam looked sharply at Georgiana. How was it that she could be too timid to open her mouth for most of dinner but have brio enough to blab about her brother's love interests at the slightest provocation? Would the girl never learn? Elopements, illicit rendezvous, inappropriate gossip—the accepted etiquette of affairs of the heart seemed to have entirely passed her by.

"About a year ago, yes," he replied carefully. "It all went off."

"I see," Lady Tuppence said pensively. "In that case, I can see why he thought she would not like to speak to him. No woman who has had her heart broken wishes to have salt rubbed in the wound. It is a little rich, though, that he should claim such great concern for which men she chooses to associate with when it was he who threw her over."

Fitzwilliam bristled at that but thought it best to say as little as possible on the matter. Darcy would not thank him for prolonging the debate. "That is not an entirely accurate account of what happened, madam, but?—"

"No indeed! My brother did not break Miss Bennet's heart—she broke his!"

"Georgiana, this is neither the time nor the place," Fitzwilliam said in a low voice.

"But Lady Tuppence already thinks he is a cad who goes about giving ladies the cut direct. We cannot allow her to think he breaks people's hearts, too." Turning to her ladyship, she pleaded, "I beg you would not think ill of him. He is so good. He did not throw Miss Bennet over. He was in love with her."

Fitzwilliam groaned and rolled his eyes. Darcy would roast them both alive when he heard about this.

"I suppose she might have been talking about a different man, although it does not seem likely, given the timings," Lady Tuppence acknowledged. "Colonel, do you know whether your mother has ever visited Miss Bennet's home?"

"Not to the best of my knowledge. Why do you ask?"

"Apparently the aunt of Miss Bennet's love interest travelled all the way to Hertfordshire to forbid her from ever marrying him."

Fitzwilliam sat bolt upright. Propriety be damned—if this was true, it mattered far more than Darcy's pride. "My mother did not go—but my aunt did. Lady Catherine de Bourgh is aunt to both of us. She went to Miss Bennet last autumn but was told unequivocally that there was no affection to be opposed, and no alliance would ever be agreed to."

"Well for heaven's sake!" Lady Tuppence cried. "Who listens to their aunt for advice on such matters?"

" Everyone listens to Lady Catherine," Georgiana said solemnly.

"Well, your brother should not have, because she has lied to him. Miss Bennet refused to promise that she would never accept an offer from Mr Darcy and was devastated when he did not come back." She reached to pat Georgiana's knee. "We are all delighted that you and Rutherford have hit it off, my dear, and I daresay it has all worked out for the best—but the only reason you had occasion to meet that day is because Miss Bennet was too heartbroken to submit herself to an hour in another man's company and did not keep the appointment."

"But this is wonderful!" Georgiana exclaimed. "Brother will be in raptures."

"It is not quite as wonderful as you might think," Fitzwilliam said. "Miss Bennet has gone to the British Institution this evening as the particular companion of a different gentleman. I understand it is generally expected that he will propose during the course of the evening—and that she will accept."

Georgiana gasped. "Oh no!"

"This does not seem consistent with what Miss Bennet has said to me about her feelings," Lady Tuppence said with a frown. "How have you come by this information?"

"Via my batman, who has struck up an acquaintance with Miss Catherine Bennet—Miss Elizabeth Bennet's sister."

"Is he reliable?"

Fitzwilliam shrugged. "He gives a fine field report. This seems no different."

Her ladyship gave a short, impatient-sounding sigh. "Then this is my fault. I advised her to waste no more time pining. I confess, I did not expect her to run out and offer herself to the next man she met in the street, but I did impress upon her the dangers of waiting too long on a hopeless situation."

Fitzwilliam groaned again. Having been informed that Miss Bennet was now aware of his interference and knowing that Mulhall would see her this evening, Fitzwilliam had sent his apologies, along with his best wishes for her imminent engagement. He had been trying to eliminate any ill will, but in this new context, he comprehended that it would look more like confirmation that she should settle for this other fellow.

"And all this time Darcy has been convinced it was her affections that had faded!" He ran a hand over his face. "What a pair! And what a time to discover the mistake!"

"There might still be time to prevent it. We must tell him directly," Georgiana said urgently.

"Tell whom what directly?"

They all whipped around at Rutherford's voice. He and Darcy strolled into the room, his lordship going to the sideboard to begin pouring drinks and Darcy coming to stand next to the couches. The awkward pause of three people unwilling to admit what they had been discussing stretched between them. Their reluctance was understandable; nobody would wish to receive such news in such a setting—least of all Darcy, the most private man Fitzwilliam had ever known—but there was no way of making it more palatable. If there was any hope of the situation being salvaged, then the matter must be explained, and quickly.

He opened his mouth to ask Rutherford if there was somewhere private he might speak to his cousin, when Georgiana took it upon herself to summarise the matter for everyone.

"Brother, Miss Bennet is still in love with you, but unless you can stop her, she is going to accept an offer from somebody else this very evening because she thinks you do not love her ."

Darcy remained very still for what felt like a very long time—long enough that Fitzwilliam genuinely began to worry that he was suffering an apoplexy—before eventually saying, "What?"

The bubble of silence popped as Fitzwilliam, Lady Tuppence, and Georgiana all spoke over each other in their attempt to explain the tangle of misunderstandings that had just been uncovered. Darcy bore the indignity of having his private business aired in front of two relative strangers and his younger sister with a stillness that was decidedly unnerving. He looked alternately stricken, appalled, livid, and frankly plain ill as he listened, but he said not a word and scarcely moved a muscle. Not while Lady Catherine's lies were laid bare, not while he learnt about the months-long misapprehension between him and Miss Bennet, not while Lady Tuppence relayed all that had been said to her on the subject or while Fitzwilliam repeated Mulhall's report. Not even when all the explaining was done and everybody fell back into silence, watching him in anticipation of what he would do.

"Did I hear correctly—that this fellow's name is Knowles?" Rutherford said into the quiet.

Fitzwilliam confirmed that it was.

"Is that the Knowles of Knowles and Farnham, the brokers?"

"I do not know. Why?"

"Because if it is, then he really is a cad. One of the foremost objectors to my work in government, chiefly due to his staunch patronage of a large number of the establishments I am trying to have closed." He lifted his drink to his lips, looking at Darcy over the rim. "You cannot possibly allow Miss Bennet to marry him ."

That got Darcy moving. Though he said very few more words other than to make his excuses, he was gone within the minute. After privately wishing him luck and seeing him off, Fitzwilliam sat back down by the fire, this time on the other couch, next to Lady Tuppence.

"Georgiana is right. Darcy is usually far better behaved—this is quite out of character. I hope you will not hold it against him."

"Not at all," Rutherford replied. "It sounds as though he has had a jolly disagreeable time of it. I only hope he manages to speak to Miss Bennet before it is too late."

Lady Tuppence gave a little grunt of disdain. " I hope he manages to speak to her without accidentally defiling her reputation, or breaking her heart, or just" —she gestured at the door— " leaving halfway through. Upon my word, I have never known anyone so prone to continually give offence wherever he goes."

Fitzwilliam raised his glass to her. "Fortunately, what Darcy lacks in manners, he more than makes up for in his relations."