Page 51 of Mr. Darcy's Folly
“Then I shall be sure to tell Richard to return the book promptly,” Miss de Bourgh said with a little laugh.
Elizabeth inclined her head. “That is very thoughtful of you.”
Mrs. Gardiner gave her a long-suffering look. “Well, then, that is settled. Butnottonight, Elizabeth. This little game of yours must proceed very discreetly.”
Elizabeth sighed but nodded. “Very well, Aunt.”
Mrs. Gardiner gave her a warning glance, but Elizabeth merely settled back against her pillows, her fingers absently tracing over the place where Darcy’s signature graced the bottom of his letter.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Lady Catherine.
Darcy was leaning back against the mountain of pillows the servants had brought for him to use when he could bear being prone no longer. The day was fine, and he wished to be out in it, walking with Elizabeth. When Fitz entered Darcy’s chamber, Darcy’s eyes shot directly to the book tucked under his arm.
His cousin smirked with an ill-disguised amusement as he handed it over. “Another delivery from the oracle.”
Darcy ignored him, taking the volume and opening it to the page where she had placed a bookmark. He found her chosen passage and her annotation. He smiled. She had compared him to Cassandra, the prophetess that no one had believed. And she had issued him a challenge.
It was not his habit to ask for apologies. It had been instilled in him from childhood that a gentleman should endure slights and betrayals with dignity. That his strength should be in action, not complaint.
But Elizabeth saw it differently. She had sent this message with a purpose. He had beenowedan apology. And somehow, she suspected that he had not been given one. Well, he had already had one from Fitz. Aunt Catherine’s would take more time. It would be more satisfying if she offered it without prompting, but that might not be possible, in the end.
A loud voice echoed from the corridor. “What is this nonsense about allowing him to sit up? Have you no sense at all?”
Fitz grimaced, and Darcy released a long breath just as Lady Catherine stormed through the door, her skirts billowing, her expression fierce with indignation.
“Nephew,” she announced, as though delivering a royal proclamation, “this cannot stand.”
Darcy, still holding Elizabeth’s book, tipped his head slightly to one side as he peered up at his aunt. “Of course not. I am not standing, I am reclining.”
Lady Catherine scoffed. “Do not be impertinent! I have had enough of that from Miss Elizabeth!”
Darcy clenched his jaw. “Miss Elizabeth’s impertinence, as you call it, is delightful.”
“What did Miss Elizabeth say?” Fitz inquired.
“Never you mind,” his aunt replied.
“She said,” Anne called from the doorway, her voice mild but betraying clear amusement, “very kindly, I might add, that Mother was exhausting herself needlessly and that admitting Darcy was right about the folly might be just the restorative she required.” She smiled. “Though she was not nearly as direct as my summary.”
Fitz’s bark of laughter filled the room, and Darcy felt a surge of pride that he had won the protection of such a woman.
Aunt Catherine huffed. “I am taking excellent care of you. Have I not ensured that your every need is met? Did I not personally oversee your physician’s recommendations? And have I not already begun arrangements to have that wretched stone folly removed?”
Darcy’s lips pressed together. Now the structure over which he had been ridiculed and dismissed for years was “that wretched stone folly.” Soon enough she would not recall that he had argued against it being built at all. “How generous,” he said drily.
Lady Catherine crossed her arms. “It is no longer a matter of taste but of practicality. I cannot have guests being crushed on my estate.” She tilted her chin. “And I will not apologise for maintaining my property as I see fit.”
Darcy regarded her for a long moment, and then—slowly—he shook his head. “No, I did not think you would.”
Lady Catherine narrowed her eyes. “You look at me as if I were some recalcitrant child.”
He said nothing.
“Well!” she exclaimed. “If that is the thanks I receive, I shall leave you to your book.” She turned to Fitz. “See that he does not undo all my efforts. I shall return when I am needed.”
With that, she swept from the room, her skirts actually snapping behind her. Anne gave them both a resigned look and followed her mother.
The door closed behind them and Fitz scratched the back of his head. “Well, that was an impressive display.”
