Page 36 of The Heroic Mr Darcy's Bad Manners
“Or they stand about in a stupid manner hurling haphazard insults,” Elizabeth added. She was quite finished with men if what her grandmother had just said about Mr Bingley was true—and it must be, because her grandmother would never lie.
“You should settle for the quiet brooding sort of gentleman, Eilís. Still waters run deep, and their feelings are sincere, though I suppose they are not prone to showing them.”
Elizabeth scrutinised her grandmother’s innocent countenance. She had not mentioned Mr Darcy since the first night.
#
Darcy
“Lord Limerick is back in town,” Colonel Fitzwilliam mentioned whilst Darcy was taking a swig of burning hot coffee. “According to my source, his niece has joined him, and his sister.”
The coffee went down the wrong way, and he almost suffocated without Richard lifting a finger to help him. He gasped and grabbed a glass of water, which he gulped down to rescue his tongue. “Excuse me while I choke to death!” he grumbled and spluttered.
“No one dies from drinking coffee,” Richard replied evenly, trying to hide his grin behind his own cup.
Darcy waited for his cousin to offer more details of his own volition, but after an eternity of about a minute, his patience was waning. “Which source would that be?”
“Your aunt, Miss Eudora Darcy. I happened upon her at Mrs Thistlewait’s musicalsoirée. I did not know that she was acquainted with his lordship’s sister, but she had been introduced through a mutual acquaintance. Lady Melbourne, I believe.”
Darcy wondered why his own aunt had not shared such vital information with him. Of course, she did not know that the alluring Queen Elizabeth had enchanted him. It had been his intention to continue to call upon Limerick House, even though his attempts last June had been thwarted by an absent knocker and a mad dash to Ramsgate to save Georgiana from the clutches of that scoundrel Wickham.
When he had returned to town, the Limericks had left for Ireland, whilst he had a despondent sister to console. He had been anxiously awaiting news about the elusive Miss Eilís for six months now, and to have it confirmed that she was here, in London, made his heart pound at an alarming rate. He could finally visit her—or perhaps not. So many months had passed; she might have married.
His chest constricted, which was ridiculous when considering a lady with whom he had spent but a couple of hours.
It was quite coincidental that he chose to pay his aunt a visit directly after he left his cousin. He had not seen her since he left for Netherfield and reckoned it was long-due.
He entered the parlour of his eccentric aunt’s modest town house. She was an enthusiast of stuffed animals, and a selection of dead creatures stared at him from various postures.
“Darcy! How good of you to grace your old aunt with your presence. And convenient, I might add. It saved me from leaving the comforts of my home in this freezing cold to call on you.”
“I am happy to have spared you an unpleasant trip,” Darcy remarked cheerfully.
“I was hoping you could join me for a visit tomorrow morning. I have gained a new acquaintance who is not so new to you. You were introduced summer last, during a masquerade at the Argyll Rooms.”
Hope bloomed in his chest, but he had to be certain.
“I remember the event, but it was quite a crush, so you must be more specific.”
“Does Lord Limerick ring a bell?”
“It does,” he replied evenly. His aunt could be meddlesome, and it was best not to appear too eager.
“His sister told me that you danced two sets with her granddaughter and spoke at length in between. I almost accused her of being mistaken because you rarely if ever pay pronounced attention to any young lady.”
“True. I am cautious about raising expectations I have no intention of fulfilling.” Which was as much of an admission as he would give at this moment. After all, he had yet to see her face…
“That is wise, I am sure. I suppose that means you have no interest in knowing that her granddaughter was quite distraught that they had to leave so abruptly. And just before midnight too. I understand the masks had yet to be removed?”
“That is correct, but I did not wear one.”
“Of course you did not. Heaven forfend you add levity to your dreary existence,” his aunt mocked good-naturedly before her countenance turned serious. “It has been five years, Fitzwilliam.”
She rarely used his Christian name—only when she was about to berate him.
“My dear brother would have been grieved to see that you have become so serious. Your burdens are heavy and many, but some liveliness is allowed as long as you do not shirk your duties, and we both know that will never happen.”
“I did last summer…”
