without some little regret. Lady Felicia was a prize by all of Society’s strict standards, yet Richard seemed ill at ease with his brother’s success. Mystified by what he saw, Darcy cocked a brow at Fitzwilliam, but he was answered with no more than a quick grimace.
Another time, then,
he promised himself and joined his sister in performing the duties of a proper host. The burden of these duties, Darcy found, was light indeed, as before his eyes Georgiana undertook her role as hostess with a shy but determined smile. In truth, his only contributions consisted of offering the crystal decanter of brandy to his male relatives and enjoying their conversation. Occasionally he would sense her eyes upon him, a question expressed in their depths for which he would go to her side. But for the most part, a smile from him was all that she required to buoy her new confidence. Fitzwilliam, Darcy noted, glanced her way repeatedly until his curiosity finally overcame him. With admirable discretion, he worked his way over to the divan where she conversed with his mother and cautiously sat down in a neighboring chair. When at last he rejoined the other members of his sex, it was with the air of a man who had come upon an unexpected enigma.
Darcy’s desire for a private interview with his cousin was fulfilled sooner than he had expected when, the following morning during his usually solitary breakfast, Fitzwilliam’s face appeared over his newspaper. “Richard! Rather early for you, is it not?” Darcy lowered his paper and indicated the steaming dishes on the side-board, adding, “Pray, avail yourself,” before returning to his newspaper as Fitzwilliam shambled to the board. His cousin proceeded to pour himself a cup from Darcy’s strong personal blend and, snatching a sweet roll from a delicate basket of bone china, joined him, falling into the chair at his right with a yawn and a sigh.
“Rest is vouchsafed only to the just, I believe,” Darcy commented dryly after Fitzwilliam’s third yawn. He folded his paper and laid it aside as the Colonel shot him a killing look over his coffee cup.
“Which, I take you to mean, I am not,” he returned wryly. “In that you may be correct, at least when it comes to my brother. I ever did enjoy bedeviling him.” He leaned back into his chair in philosophic reflection. “It is his perpetual state of aggrieved affrontery, I believe, which excites that less worthy aspect of my character into loosing against him any dart I find at hand.”
“You blame your behavior upon his?” Darcy shook his head reprovingly as he lifted his own cup to his lips. “Richard!”
“Not at all, Fitz! I merely subscribe to the well-known universal that to every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. And, as I am certainly Alex’s equal, save his being the elder…” He sat up then, squaring his shoulders in demonstration. “I hold myself
justified
if not just. It is all a simple matter of physics, Cousin!” The Colonel chewed on his sweet roll in complete satisfaction with his theory, seemingly oblivious to his cousin’s difficulty with his last sip of coffee.
Setting down his cup and reaching for his napkin, Darcy choked out, “Richard, that is sophistic nonsense and —”
“Tell me of Georgiana,” Fitzwilliam interrupted in a voice that was low but lacked nothing of command in its tenor.
Darcy pressed the napkin to his lips, his eyebrows furrowed in perplexity. “I am not sure where to begin, Richard, because I am still puzzled myself.”
“She appeared perfectly at ease yesterday, conversing with my family as gracefully as may be. I could hardly believe it was the same girl who, mere months ago, could not bear to look any higher than my waistcoat buttons.” Fitzwilliam sipped at his coffee meditatively. “What was she like when you arrived back?”
Darcy leaned forward. “At first there was some awkwardness between us, which I mistook as a continuation of her past
Another time, then,
he promised himself and joined his sister in performing the duties of a proper host. The burden of these duties, Darcy found, was light indeed, as before his eyes Georgiana undertook her role as hostess with a shy but determined smile. In truth, his only contributions consisted of offering the crystal decanter of brandy to his male relatives and enjoying their conversation. Occasionally he would sense her eyes upon him, a question expressed in their depths for which he would go to her side. But for the most part, a smile from him was all that she required to buoy her new confidence. Fitzwilliam, Darcy noted, glanced her way repeatedly until his curiosity finally overcame him. With admirable discretion, he worked his way over to the divan where she conversed with his mother and cautiously sat down in a neighboring chair. When at last he rejoined the other members of his sex, it was with the air of a man who had come upon an unexpected enigma.
Darcy’s desire for a private interview with his cousin was fulfilled sooner than he had expected when, the following morning during his usually solitary breakfast, Fitzwilliam’s face appeared over his newspaper. “Richard! Rather early for you, is it not?” Darcy lowered his paper and indicated the steaming dishes on the side-board, adding, “Pray, avail yourself,” before returning to his newspaper as Fitzwilliam shambled to the board. His cousin proceeded to pour himself a cup from Darcy’s strong personal blend and, snatching a sweet roll from a delicate basket of bone china, joined him, falling into the chair at his right with a yawn and a sigh.
“Rest is vouchsafed only to the just, I believe,” Darcy commented dryly after Fitzwilliam’s third yawn. He folded his paper and laid it aside as the Colonel shot him a killing look over his coffee cup.
“Which, I take you to mean, I am not,” he returned wryly. “In that you may be correct, at least when it comes to my brother. I ever did enjoy bedeviling him.” He leaned back into his chair in philosophic reflection. “It is his perpetual state of aggrieved affrontery, I believe, which excites that less worthy aspect of my character into loosing against him any dart I find at hand.”
“You blame your behavior upon his?” Darcy shook his head reprovingly as he lifted his own cup to his lips. “Richard!”
“Not at all, Fitz! I merely subscribe to the well-known universal that to every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. And, as I am certainly Alex’s equal, save his being the elder…” He sat up then, squaring his shoulders in demonstration. “I hold myself
justified
if not just. It is all a simple matter of physics, Cousin!” The Colonel chewed on his sweet roll in complete satisfaction with his theory, seemingly oblivious to his cousin’s difficulty with his last sip of coffee.
Setting down his cup and reaching for his napkin, Darcy choked out, “Richard, that is sophistic nonsense and —”
“Tell me of Georgiana,” Fitzwilliam interrupted in a voice that was low but lacked nothing of command in its tenor.
Darcy pressed the napkin to his lips, his eyebrows furrowed in perplexity. “I am not sure where to begin, Richard, because I am still puzzled myself.”
“She appeared perfectly at ease yesterday, conversing with my family as gracefully as may be. I could hardly believe it was the same girl who, mere months ago, could not bear to look any higher than my waistcoat buttons.” Fitzwilliam sipped at his coffee meditatively. “What was she like when you arrived back?”
Darcy leaned forward. “At first there was some awkwardness between us, which I mistook as a continuation of her past
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