“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth,” Lucy said as she unloaded the rest of her basket and prepared to leave. “It helps to have something I kin do fer her.”
Elizabeth nodded. “You are doing a wonderful job watching the girls. Mr. Todd must be pleased with your work.”
“I dinna know. He’s jest so upset about it all.”
“That is only natural.” She removed two coins and handed them to Lucy. “One for you, and one to spend on Molly and Nora.”
“Oh, no, miss,” Lucy said. “Mr. Todd pays me already.”
“Spend them both on the girls, then,” Elizabeth said. “I insist. I wish there was more I could do.”
Lucy frowned, but she took the coins.
When Elizabeth stepped out of doors, Mr. Darcy was leaning against the trunk of a tree twenty feet away, looking grim.
“Is the little girl very ill?” he asked. “I am sorry, I could not help hearing some of it.”
“She is,” Elizabeth replied. “I feel for her father. Molly is a sweet girl, and she ought to have had more of a chance at life.”
The walk back to Longbourn was a solemn one. Elizabeth had not even the heart for teasing.
Darcy was dismayed by the silence of their walk back from little Molly Todd’s home. He had not known what to say and had settled for silent commiseration. There were some things in life that were only cheapened by words. Still, he felt he ought to have been able to saysomethingcomforting.
Darcy was still thinking of Miss Elizabeth as he dressed for dinner. He withdrew a rich blue silk waistcoat from his wardrobe and eyed it self-consciously. It was not ostentatious, but it was very fine. Indeed, it was so fine he had not yet felt equal to wearing it. With a swift movement, he tugged the waistcoat into place and regarded himself sceptically in the glass. It felt odd, dressing in dark jackets when he had been so used to a red coat. Not that he had ever welcomed the interest it brought, but the blue was a welcome bit of colour.
Mr. Hill entered without making a sound, but Darcy was expecting him. With an appreciative grunt, the old valet stepped onto a short stool and adjusted his coat collar. He then pulled the shoulders back a little before tending to Darcy’s tangled cravat.
He thanked Mr. Hill when he finished, and the man left as swiftly and silently as he had arrived. He checked the clock on the mantle before glancing in the glass one final time. Darcy squelched a sudden desire to change again and leave his finery behind, but if he did, he would be late. Better to face the mockery of Bennet and his cousin than arrive behind his time. Besides, Mr. Hill would know he had changed at the last moment, and somehow, Darcy did not wish to disappoint him.
Mostly, though, he wondered whether Miss Elizabeth would think him a proper gentleman or a dandy. Would those fine eyes admire or disapprove?
Fitzwilliam was leaving his chamber at the same time Darcy stepped out into the hall. His cousin’s gaze raked over him, and Darcy prepared for a caustic remark.
“I see how it is,” Fitzwilliam said at last. “You mean to make me appear a pauper. Why did you not tell me you meant to dress so fashionably this evening?”
Darcy could not think how to answer. He had not considered that his cousin might feel underdressed. To his astonishment, Fitzwilliam smiled at him without any sign of ridicule. “This is nearly a declaration from a man like you,” he said. “Have you decided, then?”
“I . . .” He paused. “I would like to judge whether Miss Elizabeth has an interest in me,” he said quietly, and braced for the argument he knew must come.
Only it did not. After another moment of contemplation, Fitzwilliam merely nodded. “If you have made up your mind, Darcy, I will support you.”
Darcy glanced around the hall to be certain they were alone. One benefit of a small estate was that there were fewer servants to eavesdrop. “Only this morning you said I ought to wait,” he said, confused. “To weigh my feelings by meeting other women and comparing them to Miss Elizabeth.”
Fitzwilliam met his gaze and held it. “I did. And may I remind you,yousaid you were not ready to take a wife. I still think waiting is the prudent thing to do, but you have been ready for a good wife for a very long time.”
“I would not have married whilst I remained in the army,” Darcy said uncomfortably.
“And now you are not. Darcy, I have never known you to act without due consideration.” Fitzwilliam’s face lit up with a grin. “And you know very well that a man like me, whose heart has not been touched, is rather useless in advising a man in your . . . predicament.”
“Not been touched?” Darcy asked sceptically. “Truly?”
Fitzwilliam scratched his head. “You know Fane, Darcy. My father was happy I would be learning the estate with you, for he told me when we were in London that he fears one day I might be required to run Matlock, or if not me, my son. That being the case, I do not consider myself free to make such a choice without consulting him.”
Darcy frowned. “Is that what is holding you back? The possibility that you or your as-yet-unborn son may one day inherit from your brother, who is, by all accounts, in excellent health?”
“You would not understand, Darcy. I am the spare. Now that you have made it possible for me to sell out and come home, this is my role every bit as much as yours is to be the master of Pemberley.”
“I shall be the caretaker of Pemberley and its people,” Darcy replied. “One of them.”