A/N: Thank you for reading and for all the reviews. I particularly enjoyed the ones speculating on where the story would go. Thanks to Elaine for being such an awesome beta.

If there is such a thing as the 'slowest burn' concerning D/E, this story is it. If you feel it has taken too long, let me know. Getting your feedback is one of the two important reasons for posting here. The other is, of course, to pay back a little for the years of enjoyment I have derived from this site.

Chapter 16

When the two cousins entered Brooks's, those men already gathered in the main room spontaneously erupted into "Hurrah." Mr. Darcy stepped back to let the returned war hero bask in the well-deserved adoration of their friends.

Mr. Darcy had not previously cared for many of those who swarmed around them. He thought them frivolous or worse, only coming to the club to gamble and gossip.

While standing next to the window watching the men show their appreciation for his cousin's heroism, someone of that not so savory ilk came up and greeted him, "Darcy!"

"Westerham." Mr. Darcy replied curtly.

Viscount Westerham, a notorious gambler who had trouble holding onto his family fortune, paid no attention to Mr. Darcy's rather haughty demeanor, and asked with genuine curiosity, "You were away a long time. Are you back now to pursue the Trumbull fortune like every unmarried man here?"

"I went to the Continent to escort Fitzwilliam back. He is being hailed as a conquering hero over there. As for the Trumbull fortune, I know nothing about it, and I have no interest in finding out."

As if he had not heard the indifference and aloofness in Darcy's answer, Westerham pressed on, "You were here when Brent Trumbull died more than a year ago, weren't you? His heir also died right after Easter last year. Mrs. Trumbull is worth more than half a million pounds, all liquid assets! Some even say a million, if you could believe it. She sold all her late husband's businesses. The money is from trade, of course, but cash is cash. No one cares about its lineage, and Mrs. Trumbull herself was born of the finest Welsh blood. She was a Morgan."

Mr. Darcy knew of Mr. Trumbull's passing but was unaware of the loss of his heir. He was again reminded of that period when he was desolate, confining himself at Pemberley and shutting out the world.

Seeing Darcy's stoic demeanor did not change with this momentous news, the viscount asked directly, "I cannot believe you are not planning to join the fray! I remember the puppy looks you gave Mrs. Trumbull when you first came into society. You certainly had a thing for her then."

Mr. Darcy looked severely at Westerham and said sternly, "I was nothing but a callow youth then. Mrs. Trumbull was already married with one or two children. I admired her and her husband's intellect. I did not have a 'thing' for her."

"Ah, you have forgotten that you were not so dour then as you are now. I swear you would have…"

Before Westerham went on with his lurid allusion, another of Darcy's friends came up to greet him, "Darcy!" Seeing who was conversing with Darcy, the newcomer nodded perfunctorily in the viscount's direction without even a verbal greeting.

"Bentinck! Oh, pardon me, Lieutenant Colonel Lord John Bentinck! Congratulations on your well-earned promotion! I heard much about your exploits in Salamanca," greeted Darcy cordially.

The Bentincks and the Darcys had been neighbors in Derbyshire for centuries. Lord John Bentinck was the third son of the Duke of Bridgestone. He joined the army when he was seventeen and rose to be a major on his own merit. During the siege of Burgos, he was sent back to England as a courier of top-secret dispatches. He received his promotion based on his brilliant performance at Salamanca. When he returned to the Continent, he was to be put on General Wellesley's staff.

"Thank you, Darcy. I came across Fitzwilliam in surgery after the battle and was worried about him. I am very glad to see him looking well."

The newly minted lieutenant-colonel glanced over in admiration at his comrade-in-arms before turning back and smiling at Mr. Darcy. "I did not come over to talk more about the war. I shall be back there soon enough—next month, in fact. I meant to tell you I met Miss Darcy for the first time in seven years, and could not recognize her…"

Mr. Darcy frowned when he heard that. His sister was not out. How did Bentinck meet her?

"Darcy, put that frown away! It is I, Bentinck. You would not think I would do anything with a young girl not yet out—and immediately before I go away to war? I was visiting Milton at Milton Hall, and he showed me his little boy, his heir. Miss Darcy was in the nursery at the time. That was all. Do not cut my head off because I had a glimpse of your precious sister!"

Mr. Darcy apologized immediately. "Forgive me, Ben. Georgiana is all I have had for so many years that I tend to be over-protective…"

Westerham, who had hung on every word even though he was not included in the conversation, chimed in. "When will Miss Darcy be out?"

Mr. Darcy looked at the rake with another stern expression and said icily, "She will not be out until she has learned how to keep fortune-hunters at bay."

He then turned back to Bentinck and said, "Look, the crowd around Fitzwilliam has thinned out. Let us go join him." They both walked away with another perfunctory nod toward Westerham.

After the cousins left the club, Mr. Darcy asked the Colonel, "What do you think of Bentinck as a match for Georgiana?"

"Darcy, Georgiana is still a girl. As her co-guardian, I will not allow her to be matched with anyone until she is at least two to three years older. From what I have seen of her since I came home, she is not yet ready for society, and definitely not ready for marriage. She seems afraid of her own shadow. You know I say all this as her loving cousin and guardian and not with any intent to insult her. I am surprised you would think about marriage for her when you are not yet wed. If you hurry to get yourself hitched soon, your future wife will be a perfect guide for Georgiana to venture into society."

Mr. Darcy realized that, while telling his cousin what had occurred in the previous five years, he had omitted to tell him about Georgiana's near elopement with Wickham. If he had not shown up at Ramsgate just two days before the planned elopement, his sister would have been lost to a life of misery, and it would have been entirely his fault. Perhaps, unknowingly, he had tried to forget this particularly painful incident as well.

"Richard, I neglected to tell you what happened to Georgiana eighteen months ago at Ramsgate…"

After Mr. Darcy's heart-wrenching account of that episode in the Darcy siblings' lives, the Colonel thundered, "Georgiana agreed to elope with Wickham? No doubt he knew of her fortune of thirty thousand pounds. Remind me why I let the scoundrel live? I would have found him and wrung his neck!"

"You were on the Continent. You came home for leave only once in two years, and that was last spring," replied Mr. Darcy.

"You said you found the blackguard in Hertfordshire. Why did I not do anything?"

"We both agreed that as long as he did not come close to our family again, there was not much we could have done. After I left Hertfordshire, I discovered he was maligning my name in that neighborhood, but he did not leak a word about Ramsgate. That was all I cared about, and I let it be."

"Ah, he is in the militia. Now that I am back, I shall keep a keen eye out on his whereabouts. It should not be difficult unless he has quit already. I cannot imagine him being content with the pay of a militia lieutenant with his expensive tastes. Exhausting four thousand pounds of inheritance in less than four years! How did a son of a steward manage that?"

"You had been away since Wickham and I were still at Eton. I could see even then that he was envious of the lifestyle of boys from wealthy families. At Pemberley, he knew his place. But at Eton, he became a lackey for the rich boys who bullied him on one hand and let him have some scraps of their wastefulness on the other. And that was his way of living through Cambridge as well—as a hanger-on of the wastrels. Once he received his inheritance, he knew all the depraved ways to spend it. Three of the four thousand pounds came from me as a cash compensation for his giving up the claim to the Kympton preferment. I doubt very much any of the inheritance went—as he claimed it would—into studying law."

The Colonel paused and asked thoughtfully, "Is Georgiana's withdrawal into herself the consequence of that regrettable event? Is that why you want to match her to Bentinck as soon as possible to avoid another rake's foul scheme once she is out?"

"It is certainly on my mind. Bentinck is an honorable man. I trust him. His family and ours have been neighbors for so long he would not dare do anything dastardly to hurt my sister and your ward. Rakes, like Westerham, were asking about her.

"I truly do not believe I have what is required to see to the happiness of my sister as she grows into a mature young lady. Since being back, I have seen her only when she emerges from her room during mealtimes. She and I have not exchanged more than a dozen words each day."

"I shall come by your house tomorrow to judge for myself how she fares. I saw little of her as you hurried her back to your house before I could get away from my mother's hovering."

"What was Aunt's hovering about? You are almost entirely healed except for your vision and memory loss, which she can do nothing about."

"At the beginning, she wanted to make certain I was not at death's door. Once she was sure I would live, she started nagging at me about settling down with a wife and children. Milton has given her four grandchildren in the last six years, and he has shown no signs of slowing down. Why is she so eager for more?" asked the Colonel exasperatedly and rhetorically.

"Has Aunt identified young ladies for your choosing? It will not be long before she pushes a similar list on me. After all, the season will be in full swing in a few more weeks."

"She kept hinting at, nay, more like advocating for, the widowed Mrs. Trumbull. For reasons known only to my dear madre, Mrs. Trumbull's fortune from trade has no stench. From what she has heard, the widowed heiress is worth almost a million pounds."

"I wonder which number is closer to the truth. At the club, the rumors were she was worth more than half a million pounds."

"The unfortunate lady has a target painted on her back then. I am but a poor soldier with rich parents and no qualms about mooching off my old man. The incentive to pursue an enormous fortune for fortune's sake is not as strong for me as for others. I would be content with just fifty thousand pounds. Why, that would be a handy sum to gain from one's bride!

"The last time I heard about her was that she had already given birth to five children in seven years, a feat even Milton's wife cannot match, unless my dear sister is increasing again. If Mrs. Trumbull were to become Mrs. Fitzwilliam, I wonder whether she would lock the door to her room at all times! I need a willing wife to appreciate my prowess and appetite for love. She is also a Tory. What will father say?"

"You seem to have had the time to look at this potential match from many angles. Remember, though, the Tories are ascending, and General Wellesley is a leading Tory. You happily served under him till only recently. Perhaps Uncle William would be pleased to have you claim the most coveted Tory prize for the Whigs."

"Why then do you not go after her? She is a few years older than you, but nothing that signifies. She has also proven herself fertile. She might agree to give you a child or two. By the way, did you not have a tendre for her when you first entered society in your first year at Cambridge?"

"No, I did not, and I do not plan to pursue her for marriage. I have no need of her fortune. I confess a marriage of convenience no longer disgusts me as it used to, but I am certainly not ready to consider such a fate for myself."

"Does that mean that you will succumb to Aunt Catherine's machinations and marry Cousin Anne? That would be the most convenient of all marriages of convenience," said the Colonel with a smirk.

Mr. Darcy did not think such a question merited a response.

"Anne is quite an heiress, but probably too sickly for you, and definitely for me. She has not turned into a robust beauty in the last five years, has she?"

Mr. Darcy rolled his eyes but did not answer. He regretted telling his cousin his current view on marriage before he had thought it through himself. The gross disappointment in his first foray into love, and his subsequent experience with the transient nature of life and happiness, war and peace, made him re-evaluate the purpose of his life's pursuits. Of late, he felt perhaps marriage was for procreation more than anything else.

"Just as well. Let the greedy men fight tooth and nail for Mrs. Trumbull then. She must be the richest heiress to grace the ton, ever. Meanwhile, if I do my equerry duty well, His Majesty might promote me to general; then I would have a fat pension, and could take the most delectable damsel for my wife without regard to her fortune."

"If you were to get a promotion from His Majesty, it could as likely be to his Groom of the Stool."

The Colonel rolled his good eye and sighed. "Not that again!"

Mr. Darcy was glad the discussion on his marriage was over, for now.