Page 85 of Companions of Their Youth
“I know.” Darcy paused. “And neither will I, if I am honest. Mr. Bennet warned me—she will cry, beg, manipulate. If I intervene, it will undo everything.”
Fitzwilliam gave a half-laugh. “I know what you mean. When she starts sobbing, it twists something in your gut.”
Darcy closed his eyes. “He said that is what makes men poor disciplinarians. That we want to fix everything.”
There was a long pause. Fitzwilliam leaned his head against the wall. “Did they mention corporal punishment?”
Darcy’s jaw tensed. “No. That… did not come up.”
“Then we shall ask in the morning.” The colonel pushed himself to his feet with a groan. “At first light?”
Darcy nodded. “At first light.”
As if summoned by the thought, a maid appeared with a covered tray. “For Miss Darcy,” she murmured. Darcy thanked her and took it himself.
He cast one final glance at the closed door. There was no sound now. No screaming. But he did not trust the quiet. Not yet.
Deciding to leave the tray on the floor for his sister if she deigned to open the door, Darcy turned and went to change his clothes, preparing for a long night of standing guard to ensure his sister would not attempt to escape. Morning would come far too soon.
∞∞∞
Darcy stood in the small morning room of Netherfield, staring out the window as the first pale light crept across the lawn. He had surrendered his post outside Georgiana’s door at midnight to Colonel Fitzwilliam, though sleep had not come. Instead, he had paced his chamber until dawn, at which point he made his way downstairs.
The house was silent save for the occasional creak of floorboards and the low murmur of servants beginning their duties. A tray of tea and bread sat untouched on the sideboard, but he had no appetite.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway. A moment later, Colonel Fitzwilliam entered the room, shrugging on his coat. His eyes were shadowed, his hair slightly askew. “I trust she was quiet during your shift?” he asked, voice low.
Darcy nodded. “She has lost her voice, I think. Or perhaps she is finally exhausted.”
“Let us hope so,” the colonel muttered. He reached for a cup of tea and grimaced at its lukewarm state. “Ready to ride?”
Darcy glanced at the clock. “Yes, we had best be off before anyone else wakes. The fewer questions we must answer, the better.”
A footman brought their hats and gloves, and within minutes, they were mounted and riding toward Longbourn through the chill morning air. The fields glistened with dew, and the road was mercifully empty.
After several minutes of silence, Fitzwilliam shifted in his saddle. “I had time to think last night,” he said. “And I find myself surprised.”
“By what?” Darcy asked.
“That you told the Bennets anything at all,” his cousin replied. “You barely know them, Darcy. A few weeks at most—and yet now you are willing to entrust them with Georgiana’s care.”
Darcy exhaled slowly, watching the vapor of his breath rise and vanish. “I was surprised myself, when I considered it. But it does not feel as though I have only known them a few weeks. There is something about their manner… their home…” He paused. “I play chess with Mr. Bennet nearly every morning. We speak of books, politics, philosophy. He challenges me, but he respects me. I feel like—”
“Like a son?” Fitzwilliam offered, his voice gentler.
Darcy hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. And I did not realize how much I had missed that kind of relationship until it was offered.”
Fitzwilliam was quiet for a moment. Then he asked, “And the rest of the family?”
“The eldest Miss Bennet is beautiful and composed,” Darcy said. “Bingley is quite taken with her. Then there is Mark, who just left for school. He and Bingley are acquainted, which is how we came to take the lease here. The younger two I scarcely know. They are around Georgiana’s age.”
Fitzwilliam smirked. “And the one you just happened to leave out?”
Darcy stared ahead. “I beg your pardon?”
“You did not mention Miss Elizabeth, whose name I only know due to Miss Bingley’s incessant complaints. Which means you were trying not to.”
Darcy grimaced. “Must you always be so perceptive?”
