When he returned to Darcy House, Fitzwilliam was waiting, reading through one of the journals.
“Nothing yet. What did Father have to say?” he asked, a cigar clenched between his teeth.
Darcy was feeling rather smug. “He told me you should marry Miss Lucas.”
Fitzwilliam inhaled sharply, which drew more smoke into his lungs than he had expected. He coughed and sputtered helplessly for a time whilst Darcy grinned at him.
“He never did,” Fitzwilliam choked out.
“He did not mention her by name,” Darcy allowed, “but he quite approves of Miss Elizabeth and hopes you will follow my fine example.”
“I cannot believe it,” Fitzwilliam said, stunned. He dropped into a chair. “Fane is not a good son. He is not a goodman,” he added, “but he is truly a terrible son. Father had high hopes for his marriage, but Fane is no better as a husband than he is as an heir. It may fall on me to provide the heir presumptive and therefore I must exert caution.”
Darcy thought his cousin could not appear more miserable.
“I should like very much to offer for Miss Lucas,” Fitzwilliam said, “but my situation is not comfortable. Fane shall have to be dealt with. If Fane does not have a son and we do, the child will not belong only to us. We would, by necessity, often be in company with my parents, who are very formal and can be rather officious. Would Miss Lucas be happy to be a part of such a family?”
Darcy almost laughed. This storm of thought from Fitzwilliam was entirely uncharacteristic and thus highly amusing. He was certain the earl and countess would be grateful to the woman who gave them grandchildren, since they seemed unlikely to be born to Fane and his wife.
“True, Miss Lucas might not have you,” he said flippantly, earning himself a scowl from his cousin. “For she has other suitors, and you have not made yourself known. She will probably refuse Mr. Collins if it comes to that, but she might not refuse Bennet.”
“Do you think Bennet would still offer me a bed if he knew I intended to offer for Miss Lucas?”
“He believes in a fair fight,” Darcy said teasingly. “I suggest you make your intentions known. Perhaps Bennet would be willing to look elsewhere.”
“Do you think so?”
“You shall have to toss your hat in the ring and see.”
Fitzwilliam stared at him. “You are insufferably proud of yourself. I seem to recall some struggle on your part with Miss Elizabeth.”
“A struggle soon overcome,” Darcy chided him. “I only thought it best to wait until I had learnt to manage Pemberley. With any other woman I would have waited, truth be told. But that woman makes me want to act impulsively.”
Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes. “At least impulsively for you, which means acting after a great deal of thought.”
Darcy grew serious. “Despite everything that has happened, cousin, I am happy. I would have you at last do something for yourself. As it turns out, your father agrees.”
Fitzwilliam smiled. “I will speak to her when we return to Hertfordshire.”
Mr. Horatio Darcy had been a fascinating man. With every page Elizabeth read, she wished more fervently that she could have met him. She might have felt ashamed of reading something so personal, but the journals read as historical accounts. He seemed to have used these pages to test out his opinions and theories about the world around him rather than delving into more personal concerns.
She finished the last page in her current tome. “Anything yet?” she inquired of Mr. Darcy and her father, who were seated on the settee opposite her. A fire burned in the hearth.
Before they could answer, Mr. Fitzwilliam entered the room. He tossed one journal on the desk where they were placing those they had read and picked up another from a table nearby which held those yet to be examined.
“I do not believe I have done so much reading since school,” he complained, rubbing his eyes. “If you do not mind, Darcy, I will pause a while before beginning the next.” He dropped onto the chaise and was soon issuing soft snores that made the others smile.
“Perhaps we should all stop for tea,” Elizabeth suggested.
Mr. Darcy nodded and went to find Mrs. Yardley.
“Mrs. Gray has said she may remain another week or two,” she told her father. “It seems her employers wish to be in good stead with the new master and mistress of Pemberley.”
Papa chuckled. “You shall both find your good opinion is quite a commodity, I think. Though you will face many disappointed women who did not have their chance to win your intended.”
“At least it is a match easily understood. The daughter of a former general marrying a former colonel.”
“All they will see is that he should have chosen one of them. Young ladies and their parents can be as territorial as the French when it comes to a young man of good fortune.”