Page 45 of A Practical Man
“Well, if I marry, you will no longer be welcome to sleep in that dressing room you so often use,” I said bluntly.
“I have a comfortable room here as well, sir.”
“I see you are in no mood to be thanked.”
“Your belief in me is wholly sufficient, Mr Darcy. Might you sit for a while before the dinner gong is sounded?”
CHAPTER 30
Was it an aftereffect of my fever? Or was a piece of my soul lingering in some rough, ill-lit shelter beside an abandoned wall that caused me to feel so much wonder at the splendour of my dining room. The candles burnt within golden halos that in turn struck the china, crystal, and silver, throwing brilliant white sparks around the room and faintly illuminating the rich tones of wood, brocades, and priceless rugs.
This gorgeous scene was one I had seen hundreds upon hundreds of times, but now, I truly looked—and actually saw—the beauty that had surrounded me all my life. With great warmth I greeted Mr and Mrs Gardiner, clasped hands with my cousin, spoke to Elizabeth and Mrs Annesley, and standing close to my sister, I played my part as host. But when not called upon to speak or act, I sat in complete absorption of the tableau as if one of those halos of candlelight had captured me within it.
Mrs Gardiner told me of her roots in Lambton, Mr Gardiner related his enjoyment of the fishing and a tour of the property he had taken with my steward. He had also once gone swimming in the lake with Fitzwilliam but said, even in summer, it was too cold for him to think of going again. Georgiana and Elizabethhad also gone to the lake to wade, but they had, my sister said sweetly, spent most of their time walking the soles off their shoes.
“As I recall, your friend enjoys a good walk,” I said, catching the lady’s eye.
She owned it, adding with a hint of shyness, “It seems Pemberley was made for it, sir. One would have to have a full year to explore every path.”
“Then you must see to it this is not your last visit,” I said, failing to disguise the longing in my voice.
My sister earnestly agreed. “Indeed, you must come again, Elizabeth, and as often as you wish.”
Fitzwilliam then shifted the conversation to my recent ramble, and though it was a little tiring, I entertained my company with some light anecdotes about having encountered someone who looked very much like a wizard in a hollow, and the two continuous days in which we saw no sign of human life and began to feel we had been swallowed by the underworld.
“I expected to see a fairy in the grass or a troll under a bridge at any moment,” I said. “It is no wonder so many such stories are written.”
“Were you frightened?” Georgiana asked with wide eyes.
“Only once was I truly uneasy when we were encamped in a place that could not have been darker if we had been plunged into a vat of treacle. We could not light a fire that night, for our kindling would not catch no matter what we tried. Even Trusty did not rest that night.”
“Trusty?” Elizabeth exclaimed.
I looked directly into her eyes. “Our mule—a small, good-natured beast. He was to be brought home by now,” I said, turning to Fitzwilliam. “Do you happen to know if he is here?”
“Donaldson assured me just yesterday that he is here and no worse for wear for his travels—as if I had been fretting as to thefate of a ranking member of your expedition. I swear he is as enamoured of that animal as you are, Darcy.”
“You may mock us all you like, but I assure you, he is a verygoodmule,” I said. “I have had several meaningful adventures in his company.”
I tried to keep my eyes elsewhere, but they would again find Elizabeth, and we exchanged a look so ripe with shared memory I feared I would expose her. Thankfully, my sister rose from the table, and forgoing our port, for Mr Gardiner is not a drinking man and I was too unwell to indulge, we followed her to the salon where she played a little Bach for us.
Fitzwilliam took a seat next to me as she entertained our guests and murmured, “You might try not to look quite so love-struck, Darcy.”
“Iamtrying,” I said in a hoarse whisper.
“What are we to do about this, then?”
“If I knew, I would have done it by now. She did not like me when we met in Hertfordshire.”
“No? I wonder why. I am sure you went to great lengths to be amiable. And then, too, you made yourselfsoagreeable in Kent, you prat.”
“I was trying to override my feelings.”
“A failure, I take it? But,” he whispered, leaning closer, “I do not believe she dislikes you as much as she did.”
“There is a wide gulf between toleration and affection,” I said, “and I have no time to discover where her opinion falls.”
“Take heart, friend.”
