Chapter 16

When Darcy first discovered that Elizabeth was in town, Fitzwilliam was off in the North. Darcy had hoped to talk to his cousin about it before Georgiana told him, but it was not to be. As they were about to depart to Grosvenor Square for dinner with their family, Georgiana revealed that Fitzwilliam had unexpectedly called earlier, during Darcy’s absence. No doubt she had mentioned Elizabeth to their cousin.

Fitzwilliam will have a thing or two to say about it,Darcy reflected. Frustration and anger coursed through him at the thought.

Nothing of note happened during the meal, which suggested to Darcy that the earl and countess had not yet heard that Elizabeth was staying with the Bingleys. As far as he knew, only he and Bramwell were aware that she and he had been at the same dinner party and ball and that he had danced with her. The way gossip spread, especially when it involved encounters between an eligible gentleman such as himself and unmarried ladies, soon others in his family would hear about him seeing Elizabeth.

Fitzwilliam kept a steady, steely gaze on him, but they said no more than a few inconsequential words to each other, and Darcy hoped to escape the house unscathed; there would be another occasion to listen to his cousin recount all the reasons he must avoid Elizabeth.

As soon after dinner as he deemed polite, Darcy announced that he and Georgiana would leave. “The days are still rather short, and?—”

“Good idea, Darcy,” Fitzwilliam said. “You will not object to me keeping you company. There is a small matter I would like to discuss with you.”

“What an excellent notion. I am at liberty, and I believe I have a thing or two to contribute to the conversation.” Bramwell grinned at his brother, who looked irritated.

“I wish you boys would not be mysterious.” Lady Romsley regarded them each in turn, her brow arched.

“Leave them be, my dear, unless you want to hear about whatever mischief they are planning. I trust it is nothing to worry your mother, is it?” The earl fixed his gaze on first Bramwell then Fitzwilliam.

“No, sir, not on my part. I dare not answer for him.” Bramwell poked a finger in Fitzwilliam’s direction.

Lady Romsley fussed over Georgiana for several minutes, going so far as to wave away the servant and help her with her coat. She then patted Darcy’s cheek and said, “You are looking thin. I do not like it. Perhaps my sons can help you enjoy yourself a little more—cheer you up.”

“Do not worry yourself, Mother. I shall keep an eye on him, now that I am back,” Fitzwilliam said, again giving Darcy a pointed look.

His cousin and he had come to blows while arguing about Elizabeth in the autumn. Darcy wondered whether they would repeat the performance.

Georgiana went to her apartment immediately upon their arrival at Berkeley Square. She had been quiet all evening, and Darcy assumed it was because she expected Fitzwilliam to speak to him, perhaps even berate him, for making her visit Mrs Bingley and inadvertently see Elizabeth. Darcy had no intention of apologising for it. The ladies already knew each other, they had been well on their way to becoming close friends in Derbyshire, and Darcy had been entirely unaware Elizabeth was in town.

Once the three men were alone in the drawing room, Fitzwilliam said, “Were you intending to tell me Elizabeth Bennet is in London?”

They sat across from each other on matching sofas. Bramwell poured them all glasses of wine, then sat in a chair that allowed him to view both his brother and cousin easily.

“When exactly would I have had the opportunity to inform you?”

“You might have written to me,” Fitzwilliam insisted.

Darcy took a slow sip, which helped to keep his temper even. “It did not occur to me. It has been only a week since I learnt she was staying with the Bingleys.” He hated the note of defence in his voice and took a larger mouthful of wine, if only to stop himself from saying something he would later regret. His anger at the situation simmered beneath the surface of his being, ready to erupt at any moment.

“Have you seen her elsewhere, not just at Bingley’s?” Fitzwilliam’s tone was demanding.

“Tell me, why do you believe you have the right to question what I do, especially in such an accusatory manner?” Darcy asked.

“He is acting as though he were your father, is he not? I find it quite amusing.” Bramwell guffawed.

“Your interference is making the situation worse!” Fitzwilliam hissed at his brother.

“Interesting. I rather believe that yours is,” the viscount said.

Not wanting to listen to them bicker further, Darcy said, “Let us be clear. It is my business whom I speak to or even dance with. And yes, I have seen Elizabeth twice beyond the day Georgiana and I called on Mrs Bingley.”

Fitzwilliam ran his hands over his face. “Darcy…”

“I agreed not to propose to her, did I not?” Darcy interjected. “I never said I would cut her every time we happened to be in the same place.”

“I for one see no harm in you exchanging a few pleasant words with her,” Bramwell said. “Spending even a short time with a pretty, charming young woman certainly improves the usual ball or dinner party. I would never attend one again if I could not do so.”

Fitzwilliam gave him a contemptuous look, and he let out an exasperated breath. Darcy used his glass to hide a chuckle. Usually it was Bramwell who irritated him and Fitzwilliam who acted as the reasonable one. It was amusing the see the situation reversed, and he appreciated Bramwell attempting to calm the situation. Perhaps he would even speak in favour of Elizabeth. She had mentioned them meeting, and Darcy was certain his cousin would like her. How he wanted to speak to him of her, ask his impressions and what they had said to each other! Yet, Darcy was also unwilling to talk of her with anyone who might remind him that he could not pursue her—as Fitzwilliam obviously intended to do.

“I know this is difficult for you, Darcy,” the colonel said. “I do not mean to cause you pain by reminding you that?—”

“I suspect if we tried very, very hard, we could discover a way for you to have the lady you want. Truly, I doubt it would be that difficult,” Bramwell said, sounding both sarcastic and indifferent.

Darcy scoffed and felt his face flush with heat. “Do you not think I have tried? Perhaps you have forgotten the endless discussions we had in the autumn, during which I offered suggestions and compromises only to be argued out of every single one of them. The simple fact is that my marrying Elizabeth is too much for Georgiana. Perhaps in five or ten years she will be sufficiently recovered, but by then, Elizabeth will be married, and I shall have lost my chance.”

He stood and went to the window, keeping his back to his cousins until he regained his composure. The only sound in the room was the rhythmic tick-tock of the mantel clock until Bramwell spoke.

“I met her the other evening. I like her.”

His voice less angry than previously, Fitzwilliam said, “So do I. Liking her or not has nothing to do with this.”

Darcy turned to face them.

Bramwell shrugged. Looking at Darcy, he asked, “Is it about trust? Do you trust her?” He held up a hand, palm outwards, to his brother to stop him from interrupting, presumably having seen him open his mouth. “I am sure to make a remarkable observation, and I shall not have you distract me. If you trust her, Darcy, why not tell her the truth? Once that is done, she and you, aided by your loyal and caring family, will find a way to reassure Georgiana that she is safe from the man whose name none of us care to say.”

“Georgiana is whom we are thinking of, in case you have forgotten!” Fitzwilliam barked. He stood and began to pace.

Directing his remark to Bramwell, Darcy said, “I am afraid of what my sister will do to herself.”

“As am I, truly. But this situation cannot go on. For one, someone with more of an outside perspective might make a difference. Not much else has this past year and a half. My mother will gladly have Georgiana to stay with her, but she is too inclined to treat her niece as a small child. I do not believe that is all Georgiana requires or even that it is good for her. For two, what about your life, Darcy? You are the one who lives with her, and you are the only one who is being called on to sacrifice something you want so much.”

It was a bizarre world in which his eldest cousin was the sympathetic, reasonable person. Darcy’s head had begun throbbing, and he rubbed his temples. Bramwell was saying just what he wanted to hear, and he was afraid to believe it.

Bramwell drained the last of his wine, stood, and took a step towards his brother. “Do us a favour and hold your tongue. Let our cousin decide what he wants to do. This is Darcy. He is not going to seek Miss Bennet out tonight and convince her to elope.” He stopped, his mouth hanging open. “That was not a well-chosen statement. My apologies. I meant there will be another occasion for you to share your opinions with him. Let us not confuse him by throwing too many ideas at him at once.”

Fitzwilliam sighed audibly and threw up his hands as though asking what else he could do. Both gentlemen wished Darcy a good night and left him alone.

Darcy returned to his seat and contemplated what Bramwell had said. In December, he had meant to tell Elizabeth the entire truth about Georgiana and why he had not returned to her, but she had not let him; instead, she had run away. Since coming to town, he had not been alone with her, and he could not speak of the matter in public. Should he convince her to meet him where they might talk freely so that he could share the sad tale—as he had begun to do when they danced—or would he do better to leave her alone, as was her apparent wish? It was not about trust, despite Bramwell’s suggestion. It was about…

“What exactly?” he murmured. “Hiding from what happened, finding it too difficult and embarrassing to disclose? Georgiana’s privacy? She would rather no one knew.”

The more appropriate answer would be fear—fear that it would damage Elizabeth’s impression of Georgiana and fear that it would not make a difference to her feelings for him, given all that had happened between them.