P&P The Untold Stories: Darcy and Fitzwilliam have a talk

Colonel Fitzwilliam talks some sense into his cousin…

April 11, 1812 

“Darcy, that is the tenth time you have sighed tonight. I insist you tell me what has you so out of sorts!” cried Colonel Fitzwilliam as he stirred the fire in the library.

“I am not out of sorts,” grumbled his cousin.

Fitzwilliam guffawed. “Of course you are not. The Great Fitzwilliam Darcy is never out of sorts!”

Darcy let his head fall back against the chair and closed his eyes, effectively ignoring his cousin.

“You said less than five words in the carriage, which is sparse even for you, and you barely touched your dinner. And you love Yorkshire pudding!”

Darcy sighed. Again. “Might I simply not feel like conversing?”

“You rarely feel like conversing. This is more than that. Something is bothering you and I mean to find out what. You might as well go ahead and tell me and save us both the trouble of me having to drag it out of you.”

Darcy huffed. Then rolled his head to look at his cousin, his brandy glass tipping dangerously. Finally, he closed his eyes and mumbled, “I quarreled with Miss Bennet.”

“What? Did you say you quarreled with Miss Bennet?”

“Yes!”

“What on earth did you quarrel over?” asked Fitzwilliam, a perplexed look on his face.

Darcy sighed—his twelfth for the evening. “I made my proposals and she found them distasteful, prompting her to refuse me.” He raised his glass to his lips and drank the last of the brandy in one strong gulp.

Fitzwilliam gaped at him. “You proposed.”

“Yes.”

“To Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”

“Yes.”

“And she refused you?”

“Did I not say that already?”

“A penniless girl from an entailed estate refused you?” Fitzwilliam was incredulous.

“Yes! Would you stop repeating it? I have already told you. I made my proposals. She rejected them. We quarreled. That is all.”

“That is far from all!”

Darcy ran a hand over his face. “I do not wish to discuss this, Fitz.”

Fitzwilliam softened at the exhaustion in his cousin’s voice. “I imagine you do not. It is rare you are denied anything you deign to ask for.” He looked into the fire for a moment, then said, “I take it you are in love with her then?”

“I am.” Darcy’s solemn voice filled the quiet room.

“So what do you plan to do about it?”

“What can I do? She has made her decision.”

“Did she give any reason for her refusal?”

Darcy looked to the floor, shame washing over him. “I separated Bingley from her favorite sister.”

“That was her sister!” Fitzwilliam paced to the nearest bookcase and back again. “Darcy, forgive me, I spoke to her of you doing Bingley a great service. I had no idea the lady was her sister! I was not entirely certain it was Bingley either, though it did sound like the sort of scrape he would get himself into.”

Darcy refilled his glass. “It is not your fault. I am the one who separated them. You were merely the messenger.”

“That explains why she suddenly got a headache,” mumbled Fitzwilliam.

“When was this momentous conversation?” asked Darcy, afraid he already knew the answer.

“The day she did not come for tea, when you snuck out of Rosings. I imagine it was to visit Miss Bennet?”

“Yes,” said Darcy, swirling his drink. “Wretched timing, to be sure. That certainly explains…” his voice trailed off.

“Did Bingley love her sister? Or was it another one of his infatuations?”

“I cannot say for certain, but his feelings appeared strong. I thought they would fade with time, but he has not been his usual self for some months. He is quiet, reserved.”

“Bingley?” The colonel’s astonished expression said everything Darcy had not.

“Indeed. I think he did love her, though her feelings were less clear.”

“Were?”

He took a sip of brandy. “According to Miss Elizabeth, Miss Bennet loved Bingley and we have ruined her chance at true happiness.” He picked up the poker and stabbed at the fire.

“Who is we? And who says it is ruined?”

Darcy sighed and set down the poker, resting his arm on the mantle. “Miss Bingley came to me and asked that I assist her in keeping her brother from Miss Bennet.”

“And you agreed? Are you mad?”

Darcy snapped his attention to his cousin. “You were content to agree with my actions when I told you of it before!”

“That was before I knew Miss Bingley was involved! You let that social-climbing harpy influence you? What were you thinking, man?”

“I was thinking that my closest friend was about to be caught in a loveless marriage with a penniless woman and I wanted to spare him that fate.”

Fitzwilliam looked at him with sympathy.

“I know, you do not even have to say it,” said Darcy, a sad finality in his voice. “I saved Bingley from the fire, then willingly leapt into the flames myself.”

“Actually, I was thinking that had you not scarpered the match, you would now have access to Miss Elizabeth, in addition to her not hating you for meddling in her sister’s love affair.”

Darcy groaned and sank back into his chair. “That is not all she is angry with me for.” He proceeded to tell his cousin about Wickham and how his lady love had defended the cur.

“And you said nothing? You did not correct her in any way?” asked the colonel.

“Not in the moment. My feelings were too strong, I could not think straight. But I knew I must tell her, to protect her and her sisters, so I wrote her a letter.”

“A letter?”

“Yes. I gave it to her this morning. I am certain she will read it. She is too curious not to.”

“And you told her everything? Even about Georgiana?”

“Yes. She will say nothing, I am certain of it. Despite everything else, I trust her with that much.”

Fitzwilliam looked thoughtful for a time, then said, “You could call on Bingley. Confess everything. He is an affable fellow—he will forgive you. If he were to return to Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth would likely forgive you. She may even be grateful to you for reuniting them!”

“I do not wish her to accept me out of gratitude, Fitz!”

“You wish her to accept you out of love,” said Fitzwilliam quietly.

“Yes.” Darcy’s voice was so low it could barely be heard over the crackling of the fire.

“I still think you ought to confess to Bingley. Besides that it would likely soothe Miss Elizabeth’s ire and grant you her company again, it is the right thing to do.”

“I know. He is my friend, and I took the most important choice a man may make away from him.”

“Well,” said the colonel, elongating the word. “You did not tie him to a chair. He could have gone back to Hertfordshire at any time.”

Darcy looked at him with guilt-ridden eyes. “I knew exactly what to say to make sure he would not do that. I convinced him thoroughly. I cannot view my actions as anything but sinister now.”

Fitzwilliam looked about awkwardly. “You must confess, Darcy. It is the only way you will find absolution.”

“I know. I have been thinking about it all day.” He set down his glass and rose from the chair, smoothing his jacket. “I will write to Bingley first thing in the morning.”

“Good. You will feel better when it is out in the open.”

Darcy wondered if he would still have a friend when it was all said and done, but he knew his confession was necessary.

~

Colonel Fitzwilliam sauntered into the breakfast room the next morning, expecting to find his cousin a bit green about the gills. Instead, he found him reading a letter with a furrowed brow.

“What is it? Is everything all right?” asked Fitzwilliam.

“I sent a note to Bingley first thing and the boy returned with this.” He gestured to the letter. “Apparently Bingley has gone to the north on an extended tour. He does not plan to return for some months, though he hopes to keep his engagement to visit Pemberley in August.” He scanned the letter. “He says not to try to write to him as he will be going from place to place so frequently he likely would not receive the letter.”

“That is devilish timing.”

Darcy dropped the letter onto the table and rested his head in his hands, a show of bad manners that betrayed his disquiet. “It is over, Fitz. I have lost my chance.”

“Do not say that, Darcy! You will speak to Bingley when he returns. It is far from over!” Colonel Fitzwilliam tried to be optimistic, but it was clear even he did not believe his words.

“By the time Bingley returns, he will not have seen Miss Bennet in nearly nine months, and he will have met countless other ladies in the meantime. Do you truly think there is reason to hope?”

Fitzwilliam looked at his cousin with sympathy. “I am sorry. I wish the situation were different.”

“As do I, Fitz. As do I.”

“Who knows? Perhaps you will run into her one day in the near future. You were not expecting her at Rosings and yet she was there. The same could happen again.”

“Her cousin is Lady Catherine’s parson and married to her good friend. It was not entirely unlikely that she should be there. I cannot imagine the same good fortune happening again.”

“Keep the faith, cousin. What is meant to be, will be.”

Darcy could only nod half-heartedly and turn his head to the window to hide his despair from his cousin. He was terribly afraid it was not to be, and he had no idea how he would go about teaching his heart not to love Elizabeth Bennet.

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