Page 65 of Mr. Darcy's Folly
She sniffed. “You do look well enough. Strong. Unreasonably so, considering all you have put me through.”
Darcy arched a brow. “You, madam?”
Lady Catherine, choosing to ignore him, clasped her hands before her and squared her shoulders. She pursed her lips. Then, with great reluctance, she spoke. “It has been pointed out to me—by more than one source—that my disregard for your warnings about the folly may have been . . . unwise.”
Fitz sucked in an audible breath, which he disguised poorly as a yawn.
Darcy crossed his arms. “Go on.”
Lady Catherine’s fingers twitched against her skirts. “It is not as though I expected anyone to actuallysitin it,” she said in a rush. “It was meant to be admired, not occupied.”
Darcy exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to reply.
Lady Catherine cleared her throat. “That being said, I suppose my sister”—she hesitated, as if the words pained her—“would be very cross with me if any injury of a permanent nature had occurred to you due to my inattention. She would have had quite a great deal to say about it, and she never tired of correcting me. One would think she was the elder.”
She paused. Darcy waited.
“And I further suppose,” she continued with a vague wave of her hand, “it was a regrettable thing that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was caught up in it. But you must understand that I did notintendfor it to fall over.” She sniffed. “I believed you simply were being difficult because you enjoyed sparring with me.”
Darcy lifted a brow.
Lady Catherine exhaled sharply. “Oh, very well. It waswrongof me. And I”—she pressed her lips into a thin line before forcing the final words out—“apologise.”
He was certain that if he had chanced a glance at Fitz that his cousin would be gaping at Lady Catherine. She never apologised for anything. Not that Darcy could recall.
“I do notwishto argue with you, Aunt,” he told her in a quiet voice. “Whatever our disagreements, you are still my mother’s sister, and I care for you. But in return, I must have your word that in future you will take my concerns more seriously, particularly in matters where safety is at issue.”
Lady Catherine folded her arms, regarding him for a long moment. At last, she nodded briskly. “Very well.”
“I must have your word.”
She straightened to her full height. “You have it.”
Darcy unfolded his arms and dipped his head in acknowledgment. “I appreciate that. And so long as you hold to the promise you have just made, I forgive you.”
There was a pause. Then his aunt inhaled deeply, as though preparing herself for something truly unpleasant. “Before you go, I have something for you.” She turned to a nearby table, where a velvet-lined box sat waiting. Lifting the lid with great reverence, she extracted two drunken cherubs done in porcelain—exquisite in detail, delicately painted, and entirely ridiculous.
“For Miss Elizabeth,” she announced, holding them out. Darcy had to hand off his hat and gloves to Fitz quickly, for she was pressing them into his hands. “A wedding gift.”
Darcy stared at them. Fitz, at his shoulder, stared harder.
“They are rather fine,” Lady Catherine continued, with an air of self-importance. “French. Quite valuable.”
Darcy could think of no appropriate response.
Lady Catherine mistook his silence for admiration. “I knew you would like them. They have been in my possession for years, but I find myself willing to part with them for such an occasion.” She clasped her hands, nodding in satisfaction.
He schooled his features into something resembling gratitude before saying, “You are very generous, Aunt.”
“Of course I am.” She lifted her chin. “See that they are given pride of place.”
Darcy made no such promise, but he did return them to the box and bow in farewell.
Turning, he moved toward Anne, who had been sitting quietly in the corner for the duration of the conversation. “Cousin,” he said gently, bowing over her hand.
Anne gave him a tired but genuine smile. “I wish you great happiness, Darcy.”
Something softened in Darcy’s heart. “Thank you.”
