From Chapter 1:
It was nearing noon on a hot June day when Colonel Fitzwilliam stepped out of the stuffy coach into the raucous noise of London. Since it was only a short distance to Darcy's house, he decided to take the opportunity to stretch his legs after the long ride rather than hire a carriage. Paying a boy to cart his luggage for him, he set off at a quick pace.
He sincerely hoped that his cousin would prove to be in town. He could not be certain, since Darcy had been such a poor-in fact non-existent-correspondent since their trip to Rosings. Georgiana's last letter had not indicated any planned travels, so presumably she at least would be there. He would prefer to see Darcy, though, so that he could at least attempt to resolve whatever it was he had said or done that had offended his cousin.
Darcy had clearly been angry and upset when they left Rosings, but had been unwilling to discuss his concerns. At the time, knowing that Lady Catherine had called Darcy in for a private conference just before their departure, Colonel Fitzwilliam had assumed that his mood was related to that event, and that she must have finally overstepped the boundaries regarding Darcy's supposed engagement to her daughter. But now, after nearly two months of uncharacteristic silence from Darcy, and despite several letters sent to him, he could only conclude that Darcy's anger must have been directed toward him. Try as he might, he could not recollect anything more offensive in his behavior than the usual teasing he engaged in with his cousin. Well, he would just have to jolly Darcy out of his sulk and find out what was on his mind.
He rapped sharply on the front door and was admitted by a servant who knew him well enough not to comment on his unexpected arrival. He was informed that Darcy was out, but Miss Georgiana was at home and would receive him in her sitting room. Disregarding the offer to show him in, Colonel Fitzwilliam strode down the hall and walked in.
"Cousin Richard!" Georgiana said delightedly. "What a lovely surprise! I thought you were still in Newcastle!"
He kissed her cheek in greeting. "Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart. His Lordship decided that Major General Bradford needs to discuss certain matters with me immediately, so there I was, sent off post-haste to London with nary a chance even to tell you I was coming. Can you put up your poor wandering cousin for a few nights while I suffer the slings and arrows of the Major General?"
Georgiana smiled. "Oh, Richard, of course. Why else would we keep your room available?"
He bowed slightly. "Let me excuse myself then to make myself presentable for the company of a lady, which, after roasting for two days in the most uncomfortable coach in England, I assure you that I am not."
"Of course. I will be here when you are ready. And, Richard," she added, her voice becoming serious, "I am glad you are here. I need to talk to you about William."
"So something is up in that quarter. I suspected as much. I shall be interested to hear all about it."
In his room he was grateful to shrug out of his sweaty uniform while one of the menservants vainly tried to unwrinkle the garments he had packed hurriedly in Newcastle. "Well, they will just have to do for today," Colonel Fitzwilliam told him. "Perhaps you could spruce up the rest for tomorrow."
A knock came at the door as he was buttoning his waistcoat. Philips, Darcy's long-time butler, was on the other side. Colonel Fitzwilliam waved him in.
"Welcome to London, Colonel." Philips looked unwontedly nervous. "I know you have just arrived, but I wondered if I might be so bold as to beg a moment of your time."
"Of course," he said amiably. "What can I do for you?"
"Well, sir, I hope you will not think this excessively forward of me, but when I heard you were here, I thought perhaps... I should take the opportunity to speak with you about a concern that I have, that is to say that the staff in general have, but we have been at a loss as to whom to approach about it."
"Well, I'll be happy to hear you out, but surely if this is a staff concern, would Darcy not be the one to address?"
"Yes, sir, of course, but you see, the concern is, well, about Mr. Darcy, sir. He just hasn't been himself of late."
The colonel held his chin up as the valet began tying his cravat. He was quite surprised that the loyal and reticent Philips would approach him about Darcy at all, much less with a concern. "Not himself? What do you mean?"
"He seems very, well, withdrawn, I would say, for lack of a better word. He spends most of his time alone in his study, and we, the staff that is, have noticed that he often seems to be, well, in some distress. He goes out most evenings, although he doesn't seem to look forward to it, but then when his friends come calling, he isn't at home to them, not even Mr. Bingley. Mr. Darcy has never been what I would call a man of many words, sir, but now, well, we don't hear much of anything out of him beyond requests and thank yous, even his valet. And, well, there are other things, but I'm sure you see the problem."
"What other things, Philips?" Now he was truly concerned.
"Well, sir, he's been short with Miss Georgiana a few times. And he has taken to staying up half the night, sometimes reading, but sometimes pacing or just staring off into space. And, well, begging your pardon, sir, but as you know Mr. Darcy has never been one for excessive imbibing, as it were, but there have been several occasions when he has, well, gone through more than a bottle on his own, though Cook says it is a challenge to tempt him to eat much of anything. I don't mean to complain, sir, he has been no trouble to us, but, well, we are worried. I don't know what he would say if he knew I was talking to you about him like this, sir."
"You were quite right to bring this to me, Philips, and you may be certain that I will keep this conversation to myself."
"Thank you, sir. If there is anything I can do to help, anything at all, please say the word." He bowed and left the room.
The colonel turned to the valet. "What do you have to say about all this? Do you agree with Philips?"
The young man snorted. "He's not telling you the half of it, sir, and that's all I'll say about that. I value my position here."
A few minutes later Georgiana was warming to the same theme. "He has not been the same since the two of you came back from Kent. He is abstracted, and sometimes I find that he is paying no attention to what I say. But the worst is when I come upon him when he is not expecting to see me, and he looks so bleak. I have tried talking to him, asking him if something is wrong, but he says that everything is fine, and it is so obviously not fine that I have no idea what to say. All I can think is that it must be something to do with me. It's been rather frightening. I haven't known who to turn to."
Colonel Fitzwilliam shook his head. "Do you have any idea what this may be about?"
She hesitated. "I know of nothing that can have caused such a change. I cannot think of anything that I would expect to bother him this much, anything new, that is, only the old things. There is no trouble with his friends; in fact, he is being rather unusually sociable, though he hardly seems to enjoy it. And I assume that there is not any financial trouble, because you would know about that, would you not? The kitchen talk is that there is a woman involved, but I cannot see what would upset him so much about that either." She paused, then added in a softer voice, "I have wondered if it has anything to do with last summer."
"I am quite sure it has nothing to do with that," he said reassuringly. "Not to worry, sweetheart; I will worm it out of him somehow. We shall get to the bottom of this."