Page 2 of Mr. Darcy's Folly
“I would not risk it all.”
“What if the bank fails?”
His cousin grunted. “I should like to have the opportunity, that is all I am saying.”
“Given all I have just related, if you did come into an inheritance, would you come to me for advice?”
Fitz glared at him. “I do not know. Would you be this top-lofty about it?”
Fitzwouldhave asked for assistance, just as Bingley had—and Bingley, at least, had listened to him. His point made, Darcy leaned back against the squabs. “Bingley has his inheritance young, as I do. He has a sister in his charge until she marries—as I do. I have managed to make a success of it, though I made many mistakes at first, mistakes that I can teach him to avoid. Why is it so surprising that I offer advice or that he listens to it? It would not be a disaster for him to marry a woman whose father is a country squire. But she would not advance his place in society. If Bingley is to give up the possibility of a splendid match, his wife ought at least to love him, do not you think?”
His cousin was quiet for a moment before saying, in an unyielding voice, “But how do youknowshe does not?”
“Because I observed her, as I have said.”
“And you areneverwrong?” Fitz asked, motioning out the window in the general direction of the folly. “I think we knowthatis not true.”
This again. “I have just said I make mistakes. I am human. But I am not wrong about that folly, and I am not wrong about Bingley’s latest angel.”
Fitz raised his eyes skyward, as if seeking patience. “My dear cousin, do you never tire of being so very certain about everything?”
“I am not certain abouteverything,” Darcy said, tugging at his cravat with uncharacteristic agitation. The carriage wheels struck a rut in the road, jostling them both.
“No?” Fitz leaned forward, his expression sharpening with interest. “Name one thing about which you harbour doubt.”
Darcy’s thoughts flew unbidden to a pair of fine eyes sparkling with challenge, to a raised chin and a question about why he had denied George Wickham his due. He pushed the memory aside with savage force. “I am not certain I have done right by Georgiana.”
His cousin’s expression softened. “You have done everything possible to protect her.”
“Have I?” Darcy’s fingers drummed against his thigh. “Perhaps if I had not been so occupied with estate matters after Father’s death, if I had spent more time with her, she would not have been willing to . . .” He broke off, unwilling to complete the thought.
“She was at school until last summer, Darcy. You cannot watch over her every moment,” Fitz said quietly.
“No?” Darcy’s voice held an edge. “When society harbours such individuals as—” He caught himself. “At least I did spare her Lady Catherine’s particular brand of society.” His aunt had demanded that Georgiana live with her after leaving school. His sister had been terrified that he would acquiesce, but he never would. It would have broken his gentle sister forever, to live day in and day out with Lady Catherine.
“She will have to grow stronger, Darcy, before we allow her to come out.”
“Georgiana would be pleased not to come out at all. I think we must wait until she is eighteen.”
Fitz nodded. “The additional year will help her—but if she cannot perform well in Lady Catherine’s company, she will not be able to withstand the gossips of the ton. Of course, if you married, she might gain courage from your wife.” He waggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.
“I know what you are thinking. Do not say it.” He would not marry simply to please his family. Fitz’s parents, the earl and the countess, humoured him enough to privately agree that he and Anne should not marry, but Lady Catherine always tried to push Anne forward as a marriage partner for him. Not that she ever said so aloud.
“Ah yes, my aunt’s cherished vision of you and my cousin.” Fitz teased. “Though neither you nor Anne have ever shown the slightest inclination in that direction.”
“Because there is nothing to show inclination toward,” Darcy said flatly. “Anne and I agreed years ago that we should not suit, and we have hardly exchanged two words this past year because she does not want her mother to harangue her about it. We are cousins, nothing more.”
“And yet you allow Lady Catherine her fantasies,” Fitz observed.
“You will note that she has never come out and directly stated that Anne and I should marry. It is all pushing us together and vague innuendo. She is perfectly aware that any clear declaration would be put down immediately. It is no different than London in that way.” Darcy sighed. “I am already at war with her over the folly and have no desire to provoke more endless arguments.”
Fitz studied him with some scepticism. “And yet, none of this is the reason.”
He had forgotten where this conversation had started. “Reason?”
“There is something else that has been irritating you like a thorn in your paw since you returned from your sojourn with Bingley. I will discover it, you know.” Fitz broke off as the carriage crested a hill and Rosings Park came into view, its windows gleaming in the spring sunshine. And there, perched on the top of the hill, stood Lady Catherine’s folly, as unmoved by the passing seasons as by Darcy’s objections to its existence.
“I suppose,” Fitz continued, either oblivious to or deliberately ignoring Darcy’s glower, “you intend to resume hostilities the moment we arrive? It would be a shame to break with tradition, after all.”
