Page 40 of The Heroic Mr Darcy's Bad Manners
Chapter 13 The Bleakness of Winter
Darcy
Some idiot was hammering on his door. It was completely unnecessary to make such a clamour in the middle of the night. Was a gentleman not allowed to sleep?
Darcy pried open his eyes and was surprised to see that he was still in his study—not in his chamber as he had supposed. At least it explained why his body ached from head to toe. His neck was particularly sore, and he was busy rubbing it when the door crashed into the wall. Colonel Fitzwilliam strutted in as if he owned the place. Darcy was immediately vexed at his cousin’s impudence, which was amplified by his pounding headache.
“Georgiana sent me an urgent note to come at once, and I worried something terrible had befallen you. I did not expect to find you deep into your cups, asleep in your chair whilst drooling all over your desk. If I had known, I would have stayed in my nice warm chamber. It is glacial out.”
Darcy wiped his mouth and squinted at his two cousins. Or was it just the one?
“Then I suppose you may as well return home. Your business is concluded. There is nothing that needs your attention here,” he growled. It was unfortunate he was instantly beset by a bout of hiccups.
The two-headed monster did not obey him, instead ringing for a servant before seating itself, uninvited, by the fire. It shoved its feet towards the flames, and he was certain its boots would later leave soot marks on his expensive oriental rug.
The door opened to admit his butler, and one of the oafs ordered refreshments to be brought forthwith. He said nothing until the coffee, accompanied by meat, bread, and cheese had been delivered.
Darcy was about to fall asleep again when the ogre nudged him—hard. He tumbled to the floor, and had not the ground been so blasted unsteady when he finally got up, he would have boxed the monster’s ears.
“Crawford!”
“It is Colonel Fitzwilliam, and you are out of your senses. I have never known you to be so melancholy, or so despondent as to resort to drinking yourself into a stupor.”
“Most assuredly,” Darcy agreed. “I am vacillating between self-preservation and existential wrath. To quote Pauli’s words, ‘I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not, but what I hate I do.’”
Richard was eyeing him quizzically. He did not often quote biblical verses, and Darcy might as well inform the one from whom he could never keep a secret.
“Do you want to hear a funny story?” Darcy did not wait for a reply because the story was by no means humorous. “Or rather a horror story of gothic proportions.” And he admitted his feelings for Queen Elizabeth, Eilís, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and Lady Elizabeth.
Once he had finished, he groaned and reached for the tumbler, which was ripped out of his hand before he could bring it to his mouth.
“Richard!” he bawled and rose to pummel the idiot. And he would have, had his legs not chosen that moment to entangle themselves in the aforementioned oriental rug. He tumbled to the floor whilst cursing the stupid carpet to hell.
“I suggest that you sleep until your faculties are restored,” Richard remarked drily.
After a moment in the embarrassing prostrate position, Darcy was hoisted to his feet and carried to his bedroom.
“Put him in his bed,” Richard ordered. “Bring a bucket. I suspect he will be sick at some point…”
He sank into his pillow and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, it was still dark out, and Richard snored lightly from an informal position on his sofa. The room smelt of foul regurgitation, and he drank greedily from a glass of water he found on the table beside his bed.
“We had an interesting conversation last night,” Richard suddenly drawled from the sofa.
Darcy rubbed his head and tried to remember what he might have said but had no recollection of even receiving his cousin.
“So, which is it?” Richard asked. “Is it Eilís, Queen Elizabeth, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, or Lady Elizabeth?”
“I am certain I have no idea of what you are speaking,” Darcy prevaricated.
“Then let me remind you by quoting your words.I have fallen hopelessly in love,mentioning all the four ladies. You continued charmingly though.Eilís, Queen Elizabeth, Miss Elizabeth, and Lady Elizabeth must do as God pleases about loving me, but my affection for her cannot change. I may be miserable, but I shall never cease to love her most ardently. May God forsake me if I ever love another woman! I shall be eternally wretched if I ever in word or in deed am unfaithful—till the day I die.End of quote,” Richard informed him. “My question remains, who is it?”
“If I tell you, will you stop bellowing?” he entreated. His cousin’s powerful voice made his head throb.
“Certainly. I shall even order you a fresh cup of coffee,” he promised.
“They are all one and the same lady,” he admitted before sinking back into his pillow.
“I offer you my sincerest felicitations,” Richard smiled. “When is the blessed event?”
