Page 60 of The Difference of a Darcy
“Shame,” Kitty muttered, flopping back into her chair. “You would look quite fetching in a red coat.”
He felt the tips of his ears begin to burn. “I confess,” Darcy replied, inspiration sparking, “that I am rather glad I never joined the army.”
That got their attention. Kitty leaned forward. “Why?”
Darcy folded his hands together, schooling his tone into that of idle conversation. “Because most officers, despite the polish of their uniforms, are not sons of gentlemen. They are often laborers or servants, hired by those of higher birth to fill the ranks. Men with little means and less conscience.”
Mary looked up from her copy of what appeared to beFordyce’s Sermons, nodded vigorously. “I have tried to tell them as much.”
Darcy continued, his voice even. “They often fall into gaming and debts. Some take liberties with women’s reputations. And the pay is meager—fifty to a hundred pounds a year, before expenses. Most cannot afford a servant, let alone proper housing. And when children come…” He looked toward the window as if considering. “There is rarely enough to go around.”
Kitty and Lydia both looked stricken. “Fifty pounds?” Kitty whispered. “That is less than my pin money!”
Darcy nodded solemnly. “Your cousin, Mr. Collins, has a living worth three hundred pounds a year. That does not include the patroness’ generosity, nor the garden and poultry he might sell for profit.”
Mary cleared her throat. “And surely a man of God is more admirable than a man of war. The former serves the soul, while the latter only follows destruction.”
“Quite so,” Darcy said, bowing slightly.
The younger girls were quiet after that.
A creak came from the hall, and Mr. Bennet’s dry voice rang out. “Bravo, sir. You have silenced my girls on the subject of officers more thoroughly than anyone else could have done. And I do not even know your name.”
Mrs. Bennet turned, beaming. “Mr. Bennet, this is Mr. and Mrs. Smith. They are friends of Lizzy’s!”
Mr. Bennet’s gaze settled on Darcy. His eyes twinkled with mild interest—but at the mention of Lizzy, something behind them dimmed. “Indeed? A friend of Lizzy’s,” he repeated softly.
Before Darcy could respond, the door opened again. Jane entered, trailed by Elizabeth.
The sight of Elizabeth, her hair still slightly damp, her expression sober but composed, settled something in him. She looked toward him, and he read the message in her eyes:Later.
Mrs. Bennet clapped her hands. “Your clothes are still damp, I am afraid. Hill says the clothes will take another hour at least to finish drying by the fire. Why not stay to dinner?”
Darcy hesitated. “We are very grateful, madam, but we had not intended—”
“Oh, nonsense!” she cried. “You will catch your deaths walking back after dark, especially on unfamiliar roads. The carriage can take you. You must stay. It is only mutton, but it is hearty.”
Mr. Bennet nodded from the hearth. “The lady has made up her mind, Mr. Smith. You would do well to yield.”
Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, who gave a slight nod. “Then we thank you most sincerely.”
After some further bustling and the announcement that dinner would be served shortly, Darcy turned to Elizabeth. “May I take you for a short walk in the garden? We have sat far too long in coaches of late.”
Kitty let out a laugh. “Then you truly are Lizzy’s friends! She walks every day, even when it snows.”
Mrs. Bennet waved them off with a smile. “Mind you do not track mud when you return—and do not get wet again!”
The rain had passed, leaving behind a sky of silver clouds and damp air that smelled of moist earth and fallen leaves. Darcy offered Elizabeth his arm, and she took it without hesitation.
They passed through the garden gate and walked in silence down the damp stone path.
When they were far enough from the windows, Elizabeth said quietly, “Jane is with child.”
Darcy stopped short.
“It happened at Netherfield. He—Bingley—he seduced her. Promised marriage. And when she told him she was expecting… he left.”
A cold fury settled over Darcy’s shoulders. “I never saw any sign that he was a rake, never suspected that he would trifle with an innocent maiden. If I had known, I would have never befriended him. How could he—”
