Turning his back to the window, Darcy crossed his arms over his chest, presenting such a picture of concentrated intent that Trafalgar raised his head from his paws, his body tensed in hopeful readiness as his master once more took up the pace of the room. He had come thus far to find an answer, a way through to some resolution of this shocking month of self-revelation, and he was determined to bring all his faculties to bear on the question. What had he to offer as proof of his contrition? Nothing! Certainly nothing that a woman of such principle as she exhibited would be inclined to accept or respect! For a moment he stood there, helpless, before it struck him. The road to becoming a man worthy of the respect of such a woman began in seeing the world and measuring himself through other eyes, eyes that were sensitive to his defects and shortcomings.
Could he hold to such a resolve? Any idea of her love as his reward must be put aside. Even were they to meet, it must be as indifferent acquaintances. But no matter! He would honor this woman who had scorned his station and state to her own hurt and brought him to see himself. He would do it, he swore, by striving hour by hour, unseen and unremarked, toward a conduct of his life that would have gained Elizabeth Bennet’s approval.
Darcy made for his desk and, seating himself, reached for his pen and knife. He would need a well-pared instrument for this project. Trafalgar hoisted himself up from his recumbent position next to the settee and padded over to where his master labored. With a sigh followed closely by a grunt, his haunches hit the carpet, and he turned inquiring eyes upon the figure in the chair. Darcy looked over from his task with a ghost of a smile. “Bored are we?” Trafalgar’s regard did not waver. “There is no hope of going out in this rain,” he told the dog flatly and, having finished a fine, strong point to his pen, set down the knife. “And even were it a perfect day, I could not oblige you. I have pressing business of a reformational nature, which you” — he bent a censorious eye upon his hound — “would do well to imitate, Monster.” Trafalgar sniffed in answer and sank down once more upon his stomach, propping his muzzle upon his paws. “So say you, but it is long overdue.” Darcy turned back to his desk and drew forth a sheet of paper before dipping the pen into the inkwell. His brow furrowed, and for a moment he hesitated. Then, adjusting his grip, he put the point to the sheet and wrote, “A Gentlemanly Manner.” He underscored it twice. “Long overdue,” he addressed the hound lying beside him, “for both of us.”
Several days later, following Darcy’s weekly session at Genuardi’s, his cousin Richard caught him up for the first time since their return from Kent. They had not parted on the best of terms, Richard having tried to tease Darcy out of his “sulks,” as he had named them, and he near taking his cousin’s head off his shoulders in return. So Richard had taken himself off, lending himself wholeheartedly to his military duties at the Horse Guards and his social duties to the female portion of Society, leaving Darcy to his own devices until such time as Darcy had regained his humor or Richard was in want of pocket money, whichever came first.
“What ho, Cousin!” Richard’s wide grin appeared as Darcy lowered the towel from his face. Genuardi had pushed him hard; it had felt good. It was good to see his cousin again too.
“Richard! Come for some practice? Regain your edge? I’ll stand you!” He motioned to the fencing floor.
“Oho, no thank you, Fitz!” He shook his head in mock horror. “I heard about your ‘practice’ with Brougham and have no desire to be publicly humiliated or worse. Came to see if you might be thirsty after all your exercise. Drop by Boodle’s perhaps.”
“Excellent!” Darcy said, glad for the opportunity to mend this most important of fences. “Give me a few moments.” When he had dressed, they sauntered up St. James’s Street and on to the club, Richard letting fall family news and select bits of drollery from military life as they went. Finally, when they were nursing glasses across a table from each other, Richard paused, lifted his, and then lapsed into an uneasy silence.
“Is there something in which I might be of assistance?” Darcy asked quietly when enough time had passed.
“Well, I could always use another win or five at billiards, you know.” Richard’s lips twisted into a rueful smile. “But that is not why I sought you out.”
“Regardless of your reason, I am glad you did.” Darcy leaned toward him. “I was insufferable, a veritable bore on our journey back from Kent. I do not know how you swallowed your spleen or resisted the temptation to plant me a facer, for I surely deserved it.”
“It might have something to do with the results of that quite physical exchange we had in Rosings Park, which left me with some nasty bruises!” Richard chided him, then changed his tone to a nasal whine. “Besides, I was wearing my best traveling waistcoat and did not want it ruined with blood — yours or my own!”
“And you a colonel in His Majesty’s —”
“Never mind that!” His cousin cut him off and, laughing, lifted his glass again, and again brought it down with an air of hesitant sobriety.
“You had better tell me what it is before it chokes you.” Darcy eyed his cousin over the rim of his glass.
“It has taken me the greater part of a day and a night to decide whether to tell you at all, old man, so give a fellow some time!” His cousin lifted his glass in salute to him and downed what remained. Setting it down with slow precision, he glanced up at him. “I have seen her. Miss Bennet. Here in London.”
Everything went still as Richard’s words slowly took on sense and meaning. Elizabeth in London — now? “Where?” he asked hoarsely.
“At the theater last night. She was with a small party, an older gentleman and his wife and a lovely creature whom I take to be her sister. And, of course, Miss Lucas.”
“Did you speak to her?” Darcy could not help but ask. He grasped the smooth solidity of his glass as if it could steady him.
“No, I did not think it wise even if I had been able to reach her, for there was a fearful crowd on the floor. I do not believe she saw me. She looked…”
“Yes?” Darcy prompted.
“She looked well, as she always does, even amid the opulence. I believe she watched the audience as much as she did the players.”
Darcy almost smiled. Of course she would. Had she not professed herself a student of character?
“I hope I have done the right thing in telling you, Fitz.” Richard’s concern was genuine. “I could not convince myself that you would not wish to know, yet damned if I wanted to be the one to tell you. Better forewarned, I thought, than chance that you might come upon her unprepared or never know that she is here and…and…”
“You did the right thing, Cousin, and I thank you for it.” Darcy nodded slowly, then took a long pull at his drink. Gracechurch Street. Time…he needed time to think.
“Will you…” Richard stopped and looked away.
“Will I…?”
“Will you…ah, be escorting Georgiana to services Sunday?” His cousin’s recovery was admirable, Darcy had to admit that.
“Yes, I will. A new clergyman Brougham desires me to forward for installation will be conducting the service, and —”
“ ‘Brougham desires!’ ” Richard’s incredulous guffaw attracted stares and uplifted brows from every corner of the club’s dining room. “You must be joking! Oh, that is rich, Cousin.”
Darcy flushed with annoyance at his slip. Naturally, such a statement would be viewed by the world as ludicrous and in perfect opposition to the persona Dy tried to portray.
“I should almost wish to see such a clergyman as would attract Brougham’s attention.” Richard continued to laugh.
“Then why not come?” The challenge had sprung from his lips without thought and more for the sake of turning the conversation away from Dy than anything else. “Her Ladyship would be pleased, I have no doubt, to hear from your lips an opinion of this new man, and His Lordship —”
“His Lordship would not believe a word of it, but Pater will defer to Mater on this one. Hmm.” Richard sat back and pondered the advantages and disadvantages of his cousin’s proposal. That he considered it at all meant that his pockets were already to let, or near to it, for the quarter.
“A game of billiards might be had later.”
“Five,” Richard shot back.
“So, that is how the land lies?” Darcy’s brow rose. “Three.”
“Done!” His cousin grinned. “Shall we order another round?”
“We?”
