Page 58 of Mr. Darcy’s Diamonds

“Does he?” Elizabeth felt an odd pang. She could not explain it, so she ignored it. “Has he confided a secret engagement to his friend?”

Now it was Jane who laughed. “I cannot imagine such a thing. Can you? No, Mr. Bingley said only that Caroline should seek a husband elsewhere, as Mr. Darcy’s heart is already engaged.”

“That does sound serious, though,” Elizabeth returned weakly. “Did you or Miss Bingley not ask Mr. Bingley who the woman is?”

“She did, but her brother only indicated he should not have said anything at all but that Caroline must move on to other prospects.”

“Hmm. Well, giving her another year could be good for you all. It will not hurt for Mr. Bingley to be a bit older, either,” Elizabeth said.

Jane agreed that he was still young to marry, although she admitted a long betrothal would have made their separations easier to endure because they would have been allowed to correspond.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Darcy, frustrated by his inability to apologize to Elizabeth and alternately confident she was falling in love with Mr. Cage and convinced she was accepting the attentions of every other man in England, had endured a fortnight in London’s grasping society without speaking to her again. As he had watched her from across a room or over a centerpiece or separated by only two or three people, he had chanted unthinkingly to himself, connections, fortune, birth. Connections, fortune, birth. It had become a spell to cast away the demons that were plaguing him unrelentingly.

Watching her in the dim light of his theater box, he thought it again, connections, fortune, birth. This time, though, he could watch her uninterrupted for an entire act, and then another. He had struggled against the part of himself that wanted to speak to her between the acts or go sit in the vacant chair beside her.

Connections—why did her connections matter again? She could continue to visit her uncle—the one with the estate—and her cousins, and she would embrace the connections his own esteemed family brought. He was the grandson and nephew of an earl, after all. His own connections would gain them admittance to any society function. Once she was accepted, it would hardly matter if she wished to visit her tradesman uncle again. After all, he was friendly with Bingley at no harm to his own reputation.

He was all but rising from his seat when the mantra intruded again. Connections, fortune, birth.

Fortune was not a reasonable reason to reject a woman, either, he decided. Not for him. It was even less important than were connections. It would have benefited his estate to replace Georgiana’s dowry with his wife’s, but it was wholly unnecessary. Pemberley’s fortune, in land and investments, would remain unharmed by a dowerless wife.

Birth, though. He would not be able to hide her parentage from his relations or the rest of society. His wife would be scrutinized and must not be found wanting in her birth. She absolutely must be a gentlewoman. His shoulders slumped as he continued to gaze longingly at the side of her face. A hint of a smile proclaimed she was absorbed in the performance, which made him smile despite his dejection.

He had ensured she would be of the party when inviting Bingley to use his box this evening. Like his desire to please her with the menagerie excursion two years prior, he would do anything to make her happy, to feed her curiosity, to ensure she was given every advantage.

He may not be able to give her Pemberley, but he wanted no other woman as its mistress. He had seen enough of the more suitable options in the past two weeks to know he would not soon replace Elizabeth in his affections.

So, he drank in her presence while he could. For one more act, he could be near her in this box and watch as her small shoulders shook in silent laughter and her dark curls bobbed against her ear. For one more act, he could imagine he would approach her at the end of the performance and request permission to call on her the next day. For one more act, he could pretend she would welcome his addresses and would make her home with him at Pemberley. For one more act…

Two days later, he and Georgiana traveled to Kent, where they suffered their Aunt Catherine’s company for Easter. They had returned to London in time for him to take his sister to the opera before she resumed school. In a few months, she would be fifteen, and she had been anticipating her first performance throughout their stay in Kent.

Darcy had seen Bingley since returning to town, as well, but his friend had now left for Oxford. Miss Bennet had also left London, which could mean seeing Elizabeth less frequently, but it was not certain. If he departed now, he could return for his sister in June. He was making plans to decamp to Pemberley early once again when his cousin showed up.

Lieutenant-Colonel Fitzwilliam indicated he had just returned to England and would leave again in a few days.

“So soon? Are you back to Spain already?”

Richard hesitated before mumbling an affirmative. Darcy knew his cousin well.

“You are not going to Spain at all. Why would you mislead me? Where are you going?”

“I am at the mercy of my commanding officer, as you well know,” Richard said.

“You and your vague replies,” Darcy huffed. His mood had deteriorated since Georgiana and Bingley had gone to their respective schools, and his cousin was not helping. “Why can you not tell me where you will be next week? Either you will be in England, or you will not. Is it such a matter of secrecy that your cousin—almost a brother, you have said many a time—cannot know?”

His cousin only furrowed his brow, so Darcy continued. “If you already have your next orders, as you indicated, why can you not tell me at least when you will go?”

“Darcy, I…you must know I wish I could tell you. You already know more than my father does.”

“How can nothing be more than he knows?” Darcy knew he should not be angry, but he missed his cousin. He felt so alone of late.

“You at least know there is something I cannot say. He accepts my vague answers and wishes me luck.”

Darcy hung his head. “Forgive me. I know I am not making this easy for you. If you are to leave again, I will resume my plan to return to Pemberley. I am tired of London.”

“You have only just arrived! You will be lonely in Derbyshire with Georgiana at school. Perhaps even when she returns. Why have you spent so little time in London since your father died? It cannot be good for you to be so much alone.”