Darcy and Fitzwilliam: A Tale of a Gentleman and an Officer (9 page)

He reached over and grabbed her hand. "Thank you, dear Aunt, for your concern, but I shall be fine." He squeezed her hand and released it, fighting off the depression that could sometimes devastate him. He sensed that she watched him but would not allow himself to look into her eyes.

"Richard," she said softly. "Richard, look at me, Son." His eyes finally came up to hers. "Whatever is causing this melancholy,
do not
try to drown it in drink. It does not work." Tears began to well in her eyes and blur her vision. "I know that it does not work because I have already tried." By the end, her voice was a mere whisper.

They stared long and hard at each other. He broke the gaze first, and she could sense that he was closing his feelings, drifting from her once again. Soon his familiar emotional barricades would be up, and he would be joking and teasing to fend off his demons.

She stood, her heart saddened, not knowing what else to do or say. It had become increasingly apparent to Catherine that Richard had lost his place in the world during the wars, weighed down by all the years away, years of sacrifice made for his country, memories and regrets for what he had seen and all the years of normal living he had missed. He could not give up hope for a future now that the wars were over. Well, she simply would not let him. It was time for him to rejoin the living.

"You
must
somehow find your way home to us, Richard, in both body
and
soul." Her voice was gentle but firm, and she looked lovingly down at his bowed head.

"Remember, Son,
true character is revealed in the dark
." Her hand softly cradled his cheek. "And I have every confidence in yours. You are a fine man." She kissed his forehead. "Choose life, dearest." When she began to straighten, his hand brought her cheek back to his for a moment. She could feel the moisture of his tears.

"Good night, Aunt Catherine." He spoke so brusquely and low that it was barely audible. "And thank you." Reaching the door, she turned to say something but saw he was again lost in thought.

***

After the door was shut, Fitzwilliam studied the bottle he had automatically reached for... and stopped.

He replaced the cork.

"To bed," he whispered as he pushed back his chair.

Unknowingly, Catherine had won.

He chose life.

Lady Catherine and Mr. Bennet spent the first day of their visit discussing common ailments and aches and commiserating with each other over the loss of a spouse. She personally took him on a tour of the house and grounds, and was very impressed with his knowledge of horticulture. He was particularly interested in her many greenhouses, where flowers, fresh vegetables, and exotic fruit were grown year round. He lingered in the greenhouse that specialized in experimental farming and talked at length with the head gardener.

"Mr. Bennet, I have saved the best for you, I think, for last." They came back into the house and headed up the long marble staircase to the second floor. The staircase ended directly before an impressively large set of double doors at the middle of the first landing.

"Whatever can you show me to exceed the wonders I have already seen, your ladyship?" he asked and then stepped back in awe when she opened the doors to the Rosings library.

"I believe we have the most extensive private library in the country. My husband was an avid reader and collector of rarities." She arched her eyebrow. "I think if he could have, he would have moved his bed into this room. I want you to feel at home here."

Mr. Bennet walked hesitantly into the two-story wonderland and spun around slowly. He had never seen so many books, so many rarities housed in glassed cabinets, so many manuscripts and globes. A huge mullioned window with beautiful roses and twining vines dominated the back wall from top to bottom. There were four circular stairways leading to the balcony surrounding a second level of books and glass cabinets, and a series of sliding ladders against two of the main walls. It was magnificent.

"I am overwhelmed," he whispered as if in church. "Thank you, dear lady, for this."

"Not at all," she replied kindly. "You deserve some time to indulge yourself. You need only ring for anything you want." She pointed to a bell pull near the massive fireplace. "We shall see you later for dinner?" she asked. Still in shock, he waved her vaguely away and wandered into his holy of holies.

***

Elizabeth awoke later that evening to Darcy crouched on his heels before her, his hand resting gently on her stomach. She had fallen asleep after dinner as the others talked quietly around her, and now they were the last to retire. "Elizabeth, do you know that when I called your name I could see a ripple move across you here!" His eyes were filled with awe, and she smiled up at him.

"I noticed earlier that whenever you speak, I am able to feel him move slightly." This was the first time they allowed themselves to speak openly about their child. "It started earlier today, thank goodness. I confess I was beginning to worry a bit."

"You said 'him.' Do you have inclinations in that direction?" he asked, helping her to her feet.

"Right now I feel only happiness and relief that there is movement. Whatever it is will be fine with me. What of you, William?" He nodded and kissed her lips tenderly. They then held each other for a long time before turning to make their tedious, slow ascent up the staircase again. Even though she looked happy, Elizabeth's eyes were rimmed and dark, her body moving unsteadily behind the stomach that appeared suddenly larger each day. Darcy worried at the spurt of growth within her, anxious that perhaps there were twins coming, and she was so very petite.

"Your aunt seems very happy now about our marriage."

"Yes, she does, but her attention shifts are legendary. We will have to wait to see which way the winds blow."

As they entered her dressing room, Darcy called for her maid. "Oh, Lizzy, your legs are swelling up badly. You will not be walking tomorrow."

"No, please, William. I so love my morning walks. You know that."

"You will be better served by staying in bed resting with your feet up."

She tried to protest, but he put up his hand to stop her. It was then that he noticed a letter had arrived for Elizabeth from her sister Jane but had been left unopened.

"What does your sister write?" he asked, trying to divert her attention. He crouched before her to help remove her shoes.

"I've no idea. I haven't opened the letter yet, as you can well see." Lizzy was disappointed at the thought of not being able to get outside in the morning air, and her mood had shifted to definite crankiness. "Why do you care if I read the letter from Jane?" Yes, she definitely was in a bad mood.

He looked up at her patiently. "I care because she is your sister, and you love her. That is all. If you do not wish to read it, it is your concern alone."

Immediately regretful, she caressed her husband's cheek in mute apology then turned her back for him to rub. "I think your son has landed on my spine," she said softly. "Forgive my testiness, but I hate that you feel distress about me so much."

He leaned down and kissed her neck. "I myself may be a bit at fault and will try to restrain myself in the future, I promise. Just let me know whenever you need anything...or whenever you do anything...or whenever you want anything, so I can be there with you."

Elizabeth privately rolled her eyes then turned to smile sweetly up at him, pointing once more toward her back. Almost as soon as he began to massage her, the maid entered. The bashful young girl waited patiently for him to finish. "Please help your mistress get ready for bed," he said and dropped a kiss on his wife's shoulder. "I'll be back in a few moments." He walked into their bedroom and then into his own dressing room and closed the door. The letter marked urgent, which he had received from Bingley, sat on a tray. He picked it up and read it again.

Dear friend,

Would it be possible for you to come to Netherfield Hall as soon as possible? Please tell Elizabeth nothing. This is of a somewhat private nature, a very personal problem. Forgive the secrecy, but something has come up that may be important.

Yours,

Charles

He was impatient to learn if Elizabeth had received some further explanation in the note from Jane, and concerned that whatever its contents were, they would bring stress to his wife. But in the end, he decided to wait and not press her. The last thing he wanted now was to cause Lizzy any anxiety or concern. Her pregnancy was taxing them both to the limits, and they still had four months left.
Four months, kill me now, God.
He sighed and shook his head. If there was a problem, which must have been the case, else Bingley would not have even suggested keeping something from Elizabeth, he would quickly find a solution. But it
would
be best if he could evaluate it first.

For Darcy, not to be in full possession of the facts was pure hell. The knowledge that those facts could in any way distress his beloved wife was unacceptable in the extreme.
I hope I can help with what's to be done, whatever Bingley's problem may be,
he reasoned.
But I will protect Elizabeth and our child before anything.

Lizzy awoke the next day to a bright and beautiful morning, her husband already up and dressed, sitting at the desk in their room, writing a note. "Oh good, you're awake." He sat on the edge of the bed and kissed her tenderly. "How are you feeling this morning, Mrs. Darcy?" he asked, thinking to himself that she looked very drained.

"I feel a bit tired." She squinted back at him through sleepy eyes.

"I was just leaving you a note. Fitzwilliam and I are off for the morning to check on some timber problems. I have arranged for you to have your breakfast brought up here, and I would like you to spend this entire morning, at the very least, in bed and resting. Is that understood?"

Groggily nodding, she scratched her ear then lifted herself up on her elbow, foggy about what she had just agreed to and even where they were. She pushed her hair back to look blankly about the room and shrugged. "Yes, your lordship." She plopped her head back down on the pillow. A loud, indelicate yawn caused her husband to laugh.

"That's my girl," he said, kissed her, and was off.

***

Within an hour of his departure, Lizzy was up, dressed, and downstairs, ready for breakfast. "Lizzy, I had heard you would be staying abed today." Her father was surprised to see her in her walking shoes. He and Lady Catherine were sitting alone at the breakfast table.

"I cannot imagine why you would think that, Father, especially on a beautiful day such as this. Good morning, Aunt Catherine." Lady Catherine smiled broadly at Lizzy. "I believe William
was
somewhat concerned about my swollen feet, but as it happens, they are quite acceptable today, so I am going out."

"Well done, Elizabeth. I don't approve of lying about, nor would I allow unnecessary swelling in any part of my body, especially feet--very bad for the posture. There is no profit in assigning physical limitations upon oneself or in behaving as if one were an invalid. My own daughter, Anne, would have been a great exercise enthusiast if it were not for her own large feet. Quite threw off her balance."

"Elizabeth, where are you off to?" Lizzy's father began to rise, seized by a growing panic at being left behind.

Lizzy thanked the footman who set her breakfast dish before her and then grabbed several pieces of toast. "I thought I would cross the park and visit Charlotte Collins to see her new little one. Won't you join me, Father? I am sure our cousin, Mr. Collins, will be there, and it must be 'interesting' to hear his ideas on child rearing." Lizzy smiled at the apparent relief on the face of her father.

"Of course, I have provided Mr. Collins with all of his ideas, including those on child rearing. It is best not to leave that sort of business to new parents. Anne and I will join you." Mr. Bennet's eyes crossed. Although Catherine de Bourgh had proved a much more enjoyable companion than expected, the thought of both her and Mr. Collins within the same room was more than anyone could be expected to endure.

"Are you not awaiting Fitzwilliam and Darcy to return with their observations from this morning's inspection? And then, of course, Darcy still has to finish his notes from the other night."

"You are absolutely correct, Elizabeth. My, your vigilance toward Rosings is most admirable. Yes, I am sure that Fitzwilliam and Darcy will both want to get my input into whatever their observations are. I am afraid, Horace, that you will have to proceed without me."

A visibly relieved Mr. Bennet quickly regained his composure. "What a great disappointment this will be to Mr. Collins and his good wife."

"Of course it will be, the poor dears. However, they will join us tomorrow for dinner. Make sure they know this. I so hate disappointing those beneath me, you know."

***

Mr. Bennet deeply regretted not remaining at home with Lady Catherine. He felt miserable and trapped and duped by the fates. In his arms lay Charlotte's wriggly baby, Everett, a happy, rambunctious infant who was at the moment enthralled with Mr. Bennet's nose, attempting to force his little fingers inside. In fact, they were all feeling miserable and trapped, obligatory listeners as they were to the Reverend Mr. Collins's rapturous description of darling Everett's latest bowel movement.

Everett was an incredibly beautiful child, much to everyone's surprise, except for his adoring parents, of course. "He is my life and my joy, Lizzy," Charlotte whispered. "He has made everything worthwhile." With that said, she glanced meaningfully at her husband and then back at her boy. "How are you feeling, Lizzy? You look exceptionally tired today; are you getting enough rest? You know this childbearing is not as easily accomplished as we thought as young girls." Charlotte and Elizabeth were snatching snippets of conversation the moment the reverend turned his back. At this time, he was reaching for a shelf behind him, searching for his Bible.

Lizzy grinned and hastily whispered back when Mr. Collins turned his head to sneeze several times from his allergies, "I am feeling fine, Charlotte. However, I do find I am often in possession of not only titanic feet but also a baby suddenly leaping about whenever he hears his father's voice." Charlotte and Lizzy giggled toward the floor.

After a few more minutes of Mr. Collins's monotonous monologue, he suddenly closed his eyes and raised his hands in deep supplication to the Lord. Lizzy leaned toward Charlotte. "I also have had some very troubling dreams that have caused me to wake in the middle of the night. That tires me more than anything." Charlotte stared deeply into her friend's eyes, sensing a troubled spirit.

"Mr. Collins, could you and Mr. Bennet please excuse us? Forgive me, dear, but I must have a private moment with Elizabeth." Mr. Collins looked reprovingly at his wife, unhappy with this interruption of his personal address with God, while Mr. Bennet gamely attempted to rouse himself from a trancelike stupor.

Charlotte took her baby from Lizzy, patting and kissing the child's head as it nestled happily into her shoulder. At her husband's continued silent reproof, she pronounced the sentence that no man on earth can withstand. "I am truly sorry, dear," she whispered, "but it is regarding
female trouble
." Mr. Collins's face drained of all color. "Female trouble," she mouthed once again, nodding.

With that, both Mr. Collins and Mr. Bennet quickly waved them off, avoiding at all costs any possibility of eye contact.

Alone outside in the sunshine and peace of her garden, Charlotte laughed softly. "I tell you, Lizzy, that is the most useful phrase I have learned as a married woman. No man seems to want to know about female trouble."

Laughing, Lizzy made her way slowly to a secluded bench.

"Now, what is this about bad dreams? I find that most interesting. I know I had many dreadful nights when I was carrying Everett."

Lizzy hesitated at first but then confided to her friend about her concerns with Caroline Bingley and Darcy, hinting broadly at their relationship years ago. She said she sometimes found herself dreaming of them together, or of her strangling and disemboweling the meddlesome redheaded witch, slicing open her throat or gouging out her eyes. Charlotte's eyes opened wider and wider with each description of mayhem.

"Well, that is rather serious, I suppose. Oh, but, Lizzy, you cannot really believe that Darcy would betray you. He is so much in love with you that he would never consider hurting you, and it is not in his character to deceive."

Lizzy smiled as she leaned her head back, letting the sunshine wash over her for a moment. "Oh, be honest, Charlotte. Don't you think it is within everyone's character at some point to deceive? Whether it be for good intentions or bad is the telling point, but I do agree that he would never deliberately hurt me or disgrace his family."

Charlotte sensed, however, that the idea of Caroline and Darcy still bothered Lizzy. "Didn't Jane say that Caroline was involved with someone? I had the impression she was almost engaged."

Lizzy snorted. "'Almost' is never as good as 'is' in my estimation. Also, 'engaged' is not nearly so fine as 'married.'" Elizabeth became more and more animated as she continued. "And 'married and settled on another continent' is best of all. Besides, Caroline's been 'almost' engaged more times than any other woman I know."

***

By midafternoon, Darcy and Fitzwilliam were already waiting in the reception room for Lizzy and her father to return.

"Compose yourself, brat. Did you really believe you could just command her to stay home and she would?"

Darcy looked bewildered, affronted. "Yes, of course I did."

"Good God." Fitzwilliam shook his head. "Well, it's your head, Darcy. It was splendid knowing you." Hearing Elizabeth and her father in the hallway, he left quickly.

"Hello, dearest. Was that Richard rushing off? How odd. Oh, we had
such
a wonderful visit with Charlotte, and her baby, Everett, is glorious. Such a beautiful child emerging through the services of such a father--who could have imagined...?" Lizzy's voice trailed off when she saw the look in Darcy's eyes.

"Could you excuse us, please, Mr. Bennet? I wish to speak privately with
my wife
." Sensing trouble, his father-in-law was already making a hasty retreat.

Lizzy's eyes were huge as saucers and innocent as a newborn. "Whatever is the matter, William?"

"You know perfectly well what the matter is,
Mrs.
Darcy."

The certainty of this remark slowed her in her short waddle over to a seat. "No, I definitely do
not
,
Mr.
Darcy, else I would not have asked." Now riled by his rudeness, she plopped down primly, raised her chin to stare boldly up at her pacing husband, and impolitely kicked one after the other of her shoes to the side.

For a moment he just glared at her then stooped to pick each up. "I believe I told you, madam, to stay in bed and rest." He pointed directly at her with one of her shoes. "Your legs were very swollen and sore last evening. Am I mistaken in this?"

"Evidently, you are unaware that my legs and feet are much better this morning." Pulling up her skirt, she stuck her feet straight out for his perusal. Lizzy congratulated herself on the graciousness of her reply.

"And what of the staircase, Mrs. Darcy, that gloriously lethal block of greased suicide? Perhaps now you will tell me you had a footman assist you down the staircase, as I instructed you to do?" He loomed over her, his hands fisted at his waist, her shoes now badly mangled. "And do not bother to lie to me, Elizabeth. I have already asked."

She blinked her eyes rapidly, caught in his trap like a rat. "I walked very slowly and carefully, and held onto the banister." She hated him when he was right.

"Elizabeth, I confess I do not understand your flippancy. If you did not truly desire children, you should have told me outright!" Darcy knew the moment the words were said that he had jumped far over the line.

"Mr. Darcy!" She was up in a shot. "That is a terrible and unfeeling thing to say." Tears immediately welled within her eyes, and Darcy at once regretted his outburst.

"Dammit, woman. Forgive me, but I am very concerned. You have had so many problems with this pregnancy--the nausea, the swelling, the exhaustion. I want you in a controlled environment where I can ensure your safety and the child's health."

"Mr. Darcy," she choked out in anger, "I was at Charlotte Collins's home, not insanely rolling around in a field somewhere. We were with my father and Mr. Collins, two gentlemen who are capable of summoning help on the off chance that I would become seriously ill. And I
was
careful on the stairs! I was! If you think me so thoughtless and heartless that I would endanger our baby on a whim, then you should have entrusted this task to another and not have married me." With that, she hurriedly padded past him and headed toward the grand staircase, stumbling awkwardly in her haste, slipping once in her stocking feet on the slick surfaces. She clutched at the railing for support.

"Elizabeth! Slow down, and be careful!!" Darcy was at her side in a flash, grabbing at her arm. However, there was no way in the world that Elizabeth wanted to be touched by her husband at that particular moment, so she roughly pulled her arm away and used both hands to steady herself as she climbed the stairs. Darcy had no recourse but to walk behind her, angrily grumbling, all the way to the top.

Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were not seen at dinner that evening, but they were, unfortunately, heard.

***

At dawn on the following morning, a contrite Darcy pulled his wife's back against him in bed and kissed the nape of her neck. "Cut line, Lizzy," he whispered, his hands tenderly cupping her breasts. "You cannot still be angry with me." He could hear the chuckle as she rolled onto her back and looked up into those beautiful eyes she loved so dearly.

"Never tell me! I thought you were still mad at me."

"Well, yes, but you look so beautiful when you sleep, especially with your mouth shut, that I can't hold onto anything but absolute adoration."

"Does that insulting line generally work with all your wives, Mr. Darcy?"

"We'll soon see," he whispered back.

***

Lizzy and Darcy were very late for breakfast that morning, everyone else finished and discussing the day's activities. When they entered the dining room, they were both smiling like lunatics. Elizabeth avoided Aunt Catherine's eyes, realizing that she had just enthusiastically participated in activities that would certainly 'frighten the baby,' while Darcy looked around the room in a smugly contented manner.

"God, but everything smells wonderful in the morning, especially food..." He patted his stomach as they made their way to the sideboard.

"Yes, and especially when you haven't eaten the night before," muttered Lizzy.

"Well, thank heavens you are both up; it's nearly time to change into afternoon caps. I was afraid you would be ill all day." Lady Catherine eyed them warily then turned to order the replenishment of the breakfast buffet. "You
were
ill earlier, were you not?" Lizzy and Darcy nodded once and then avoided all further eye contact. "Oh, Darcy, you've had another letter delivered here. It's on the salver."