A Continued Affection

Part 30

"I hope you do not object to dancing with me, Miss Elizabeth," Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, the second or third time Lizzy darted a glance over her shoulder in a vain attempt to locate Mr Darcy.

"Of course not!"

Colonel Fitzwilliam's tone had been light and he smiled as he spoke, but she could not help but feel a flash of guilt. It had been gallant of him to invite her to dance, and ordinarily she did enjoy it, but this evening her thoughts were entirely entangled with another gentleman.

"I was intrigued to meet you and put a face to the name," Colonel Fitzwilliam continued, as they moved in time to a lively jig. "My cousin speaks of you often."

"Your cousin?" Lizzy's heart hammered in her chest. Could it be? Did Mr Darcy think of her as often as she did him? And to speak of her - to this gentleman? Her lips quirked. But would he speak well of her, or not?

"My cousin." Colonel Fitzwilliam confirmed, a knowing smile snaking across as his face as if he could tell precisely where her thoughts had travelled to and was sorry to disappoint her by revealing the truth. "Georgiana Darcy. You seem to have made quite an impression."

"Oh." Lizzy's face fell, although with effort she wrangled it into a smile. "Well, she has made quite an impression on me, also. I only met her for the first time this week but it seems as if I have known her much longer."

Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded, digesting this.

"You have been a little longer acquainted with her brother, I believe."

There it was again, that same knowingness in his eyes that suggested he knew precisely how long Elizabeth and Darcy had been acquainted. Could he know? It was possible, of course. Just because she had guarded the secret of their ill-fated romance from her family did not mean that he had. Georgiana appeared to have been ignorant of it, at least when first she and Elizabeth had met, but had Darcy exercised the same discretion with his cousin?

"A little while longer," she stammered by way of reply. It would neither confirm nor deny any suspicions he had.

"How wonderful that we might all be together," Colonel Fitzwilliam said, as the dance served to part them. His smile widened as they returned once more. "Old friends. New friends." His expression hardened. "And those one might not consider friends at all."

Elizabeth stopped suddenly, almost faltering her steps. Had Colonel Fitzwilliam not been moving alongside her at that moment she would surely have tripped, but together they recovered the fumble and were soon dancing to time again. Lizzy drew a shaky breath.

"You are acquainted with Mr Wickham. At least, I presume it is he to whom you refer."

Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded but said nothing, a silent invitation to her to continue. An invitation, Elizabeth wondered. Or a challenge? In this light, and with the accompanying scowl that had appeared with his oblique reference to Wickham, Colonel Fitzwilliam did not look unlike his handsome cousin, and Lizzy dropped her gaze.

"I know him but a little," Lizzy continued. "I was hoping to speak to Mr Darcy about - about something he told me this evening." Her cheeks grew hot and she feared they betrayed her, or betrayed something else - some suggestion that what had passed between her and Mr Wickham had been anything other than a whispered confession on his part, a desire for absolution, and on hers: confusion.

"You seemed quite well acquainted when we saw you in the doorway," Colonel Fitzwilliam remarked, but his voice was not as stern as his cousin's might have been. "I hope he was not uncouth."

"He told me something," Elizabeth replied, wondering if she might manage to extract some confirmation, either way, from Colonel Fitzwilliam before presenting the whole to Mr Darcy.

"I am sure he did," Colonel Fitzwilliam growled. "He has been spinning a fair number of tales lately, although I would caution you, Miss Elizabeth, as one who knows Mr Wickham well of old, to approach any truth he offers you with caution."

"Even truth that paints him in a bad light?"

Now it was Colonel Fitzwilliam's turn to stumble, although he recovered himself easily and with the need of no assistance.

"I will tell you what he said, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and trust you to confirm or deny it if you can. It concerned your cousin." Lizzy paused. "Georgiana."

Colonel Fitzwilliam's lips drew into a tight line, all the confirmation Lizzy required to know that the story Wickham had told was true, in part if not in whole.

"I do not think he has told anyone else the tale, and to be honest I am not sure why he told me unless it was to demonstrate the depths to which he has previously sunk."

"He had plenty examples he might have offered," Colonel Fitzwilliam muttered. "You are acquainted with Darcy's friend Egerton?"

Lizzy frowned but did not press the matter. Her heart had quickened again, recognising some tiny spark of light in the chaos of unhappiness that Wickham had shared. He had confessed his role in separating Elizabeth and Darcy. Might that confession now be the thing that would bring them together?

"He claims a wish to change," Lizzy continued.

"Many men may claim a wish to change," Colonel Fitzwilliam retorted. "I judge a man by his actions, Miss Elizabeth, not by his words." He paused. "I do not think the unburdening of one's soul, however affectingly done, counts if it endangers the reputation of another." His expression softened, and now Lizzy saw he appealed to her as a friend, on behalf of one who might suffer if the truth were to emerge.

"I would not dream of sharing what he said," Elizabeth murmured, smiling a little in a manner she hoped was reassuring. "Please believe me, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I care for Georgiana, though I know her but a little. I wish to be a friend to her and Mr Darcy -"

"No more than a friend?" It was Colonel Fitzwilliam's turn to glance over his shoulder, now, and Lizzy followed his gaze to see Georgiana standing arm in arm with her brother, who fixed a dark, unflinching gaze on the dancers - on her! Georgiana was saying something Lizzy could not discern, but Darcy remained unmoved by whatever plea his sister put to him. Her heart sank. What did it matter what Wickham had done in the past to part them? Even now, Darcy bore a grudge for some imagined act of betrayal that no amount of explanation would quench. She drew a breath, turning her attention back to their dance, determined she would enjoy what little remained of it before deciding what to do about that.