Page 57 of The Slipper Scandal
"Indeed she has," Darcy replied, rising to his feet. "Miss Bennet and I have been having a most illuminating conversation."
Elizabeth rose as well, her smile polite but her eyes still holding the shadows of their discussion. "Mr. Darcy was telling me about his parents," she explained to Mrs. Abernathy, offering a simplified version of their exchange.
"How delightful," the older woman responded. "You must stay for luncheon, Mr. Darcy. Mr. Abernathy should return shortly, and he would be most disappointed to have missed you."
"You are very kind," Darcy replied, "but we have just had tea, and I have another appointment that cannot be delayed." Their time was limited, and he was loath to go, but he knew Elizabeth would need time to consider all they had said. He could not afford to give her much, however. "Miss Bennet, may I call on you tomorrow?"
Elizabeth hesitated for just a moment, then nodded. "Yes, Mr. Darcy. I should like that."
As he took his leave, bowing over Elizabeth's hand with formal correctness, Darcy found himself filled with hope and determination. For the first time since their engagement began, he had glimpsed the true source of her reluctance. It was not a disdain forhim, but a deeply rooted anxiety born from watching her parents' unhappy union.
He had to think on what to do.
As his carriage pulled away from the Abernathys' residence, Darcy's resolve wavered. He could court her with the all the determination he possessed, but would it make a difference? Her fears were legitimate and would take time to address. Time she had just informed him they did not have.
Chapter Seventeen
Darcy handed off his gloves, hat and coat to his butler. The weather outside matched his mood—grey with occasional moments of unexpected sunlight. He turned at the sound of the door opening again to see Fitzwilliam enter, rain droplets still clinging to his greatcoat.
"You look cheerful," Fitzwilliam observed, shrugging off the damp garment and handing it off. "Contemplating the many joys of your impending nuptials, no doubt."
Darcy did not bother to respond to his cousin's attempt at levity. "Brandy?" he asked instead, already moving towards his study and the decanter.
"Good God, yes," Fitzwilliam replied with unusual fervour.
As Darcy poured two generous measures, he studied his cousin's face. "You are in nearly as foul a temper as I am. What has happened?"
Fitzwilliam accepted the glass with a nod of thanks. "I called on Miss Abernathy rather early this morning, and Mr. Abernathy requested a private word."
"Ah." Darcy took a sip of his brandy, watching comprehension dawn across his cousin's features.
"You knew."
"I suspected," Darcy corrected. "Mrs. Abernathy appears quite protective of her daughter."
Fitzwilliam sank into a chair with a heavy sigh. "I did not speak with her, but I imagine Mrs. Abernathy shares her husband's concerns. No, it was Abernathy himself who explained, quite rationally, that my profession makes me an unsuitable match for his daughter."
"His exact words?" Darcy asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Not precisely." Fitzwilliam swirled the amber liquid in his glass. "He was painfully civil about it, spoke of his deep respect for military men, his appreciation for my character, but given my disappearance from town last season, he was reluctant to see his only child wed to a man who might be called to the Continent at any moment, leaving her alone for months or years at a time. Or worse," he added grimly, "making her a widow before she had properly been a wife."
Darcy settled into the chair opposite his cousin. "You cannot fault his concern."
"No," Fitzwilliam agreed. "Nor can I pretend that his fears are without foundation. He also mentioned, quite delicately, the financial realities of my position. As a second son, my inheritance is modest, and an officer's pay hardly sufficient to maintain a wife."
"Her dowry is considerable," Darcy observed. “If you sold your commission, you would still be comfortable.”
"So Abernathy acknowledged, and he did say if I was no longer an officer, he would consider me eligible. But what man of honour wishes to live on his wife's fortune?" Fitzwilliam drained half his glass in a single swallow.
"And Miss Abernathy's feelings in the matter?"
"Not consulted, as far as I know." Fitzwilliam's mouth twisted in a bitter smile. "Though she may well share her father's assessment. I have not had the opportunity to discover, as I have been politely but firmly instructed not to call upon her again."
"I am sorry, Richard," Darcy said quietly. "I had thought . . . That is, I observed your interactions and believed there might be genuine regard on both sides."
"Perhaps," Fitzwilliam conceded. "But regard is not always sufficient against practical considerations. As no doubt your Miss Bennet would agree."
Darcy's grip tightened on his glass. "She is not my Miss Bennet. Not truly. Not yet."
