Page 15 of Desired By Mr Darcy
“You insult her honour?”
“It is no dishonourable thing to have a wife who desires you, Darcy! It is the greatest of gifts! You really are a prude, aren’t you? You and Mr Bingley, who was as red as a strawberry by the time we parted ways.”
“I believed your impertinence was down to drink; I see now that you intend to continue behaving as a brute. I shall leave you to wallow in your misery.”
“Wait, wait. Let us talk about this as two men.”
“I do not know when you saw fit to become my advisor in these matters, cousin, but I set you free of any obligation you might feel. It is, quite frankly, none of your concern.”
“You’re scared, aren’t you?”
“I am not scared of Elizabeth. Such a suggestion is absurd.”
“No, that is not what I mean. You are utterly devoted to her. I think that some part of me knew that from the moment I saw you look at her. You’re scared of…the act itself.”
“You are ridiculous. I am not scared. I may not live my life dominated by what lies in my breeches, but that does not mean I am scared. I am sure when it comes to it, it shall be perfectly pleasant.”
“Perfectly pleasant, sufficiently consummate – hell’s bells, man. Here, I have something for you. A moment.”
Fitzwilliam prised himself from the settee and trudged away. Darcy stood stock still, awaiting his cousin’s return. The sound of footsteps thudded above him, and Darcy mentally traced them to the room he kept for his cousin. The sound paused for a moment, and then the sound of footsteps drawing closer. When Fitzwilliam returned, he held a small black book. He held it out, offering it to Darcy who made no move to accept it.
“Here,” Fitzwilliam said, stepping closer and placing it into Darcy’s unwelcoming hand himself. “I bought this for you.”
“What is this?”
Fitzwilliam returned to the settee, sitting down with a heavy thud.
“A wedding gift for Miss Elizabeth. You are a practical sort of man, and a practical sort benefits from clear instructions. I believe you shall get that with this little book. It’s not for polite company, though.”
“Where does one acquire such material?”
“They’re bandied round like currency in the army,” Fitzwilliam shrugged. “That one is new, though, so don’t worry about stuck together pages.”
“You are disgusting.”
“Sorry, yes, you’re right actually. I’m afraid I always need to be re-socialised on my leave. The army sends you quite feral.”
“If I accept this – this gift, as you offer it – will you promise to make no further comment on the matter of carnal desires? I have had quite enough to last a lifetime.”
“You really don’t like to think of it, do you?” Fitzwilliam asked, his tone changing to one far more compassionate. “I have teased you terribly. I will take the book and burn it.”
His cousin made a half-hearted effort to prise himself from the settee, only to flop back helplessly. Groaning, he offered a hand to Darcy, palm outstretched awaiting the deposit of the book. Darcy hesitated, looking down at the book. He shook his head, tucking the slim book into his jacket pocket.
“No.”
Fitzwilliam smiled, eyes still closed and looking decidedly green around the edges.
“You have my word I will never raise the subject again,” he promised, not bothering to move an inch. “Are we friends again?”
“You are absurd,” Darcy rolled his eyes. “Did you see that Bingley got home safely? He is not in the habit of imbibing so much. He was swaying in his seat.”
“Yes, yes, safe and sound to that harridan of a sister. I imagine she is quite furious about the upcoming nuptials on both sides, isn’t she?”
“Miss Bingley is…”
“In love with you, or your money at least,” Fitzwilliam said cheerily, before letting out an almighty hiccup and laughing hysterically.
“Are you still drunk?”
