Page 71 of Colour My World
Mr Bennet’s brows lifted.
“She was just thirteen when our father died. Still more child than woman. I became her only family. Once, only a brother. Then, without warning, her guardian—father, in all but name…. It changed everything. I could no longer indulge her fancies or join in her laughter. I had to correct her. Guide her. Protect her. It was a burden beyond the strength of most men, let alone a youth scarcely past his majority. I had no time to be foolish, no time to be careless. I had to become…what I am.”
“You make it sound like a sentence.”
Darcy said nothing.
“Was there no one to assist you? Lend support?”
“My cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam—Richard—shares Georgiana's guardianship. But he is a soldier, and I am a man ofproperty. He carries his own burdens.”
Mr Bennet tilted his head. “And your mother’s family?”
“My uncle, the Earl of Matlock, is a man of duty and consequence, but he is fair. His wife, well, she is as one would expect of an earl’s wife.”
Mr Bennet lifted a brow. “Which is?”
“Formidable.”
A small, amused snort came from the older man.
“And then… There is his sister.” Darcy resumed his seat. “A tyrant. And utterly absurd.”
Mr Bennet’s lips twitched. He steepled his fingers. “I see. I daresay every family suffers one such relative, though mine has made an art of it.”
Darcy gestured in a bid for him to continue.
Mr Bennet sat back. “My cousin, a foolish parson, will inherit Longbourn when I die.”
“A parson, you say?”
“A clergyman. Hunsford.”
“Hunsford?”
Mr Bennet pursed his lips though a small smile crept out. “Do you mean to echo me all afternoon?”
Darcy ignored his quip. “When you say Hunsford parsonage, do you mean…?”
“I do.”
They said it together: “Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”
Darcy stared and then laughed. Not the measured sort expected of a gentleman, but something else. Unrestrained, maybe. Mr Bennet joined him.
The weight on his chest lessened for the first time he could remember. He wiped the mirth from his eyes but continued to laugh.
When their glee faded, Mr Bennet rose from his chair. “It seems fate is fond of unlikely kinships.”
Chapter 24
Mr Bennet crossed to a cabinet tucked beneath the bookshelves and lifted a decanter.
Darcy nodded. Two cut crystal glasses sat waiting on a silver tray. The deep amber liquid caught the light as Mr Bennet poured.
Mr Bennet handed him a glass. “You look in need of fortification.”
Darcy brought the glass to his nose and inhaled. Aged well, oak, spice, and a hint of vanilla. The flavour bloomed across his tongue. Fire stitched with silk. Heat unfurled in his chest. He lowered the glass and, as if to whistle for the hounds, released a breath through pursed lips. Slowly. Heavenly.
