Darcy and Fitzwilliam: A Tale of a Gentleman and an Officer (7 page)

Darcy gently pried away her fingers. "You are gravely mistaken, Caroline. I am neither noble nor long-suffering. I merely love my wife with all my heart. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to speak with Mr. Bennet."

Caroline watched angrily as he approached his father-in-law, who stood to shake his hand and embrace him in thanks for all that Darcy had done. It was obvious he was gifting Darcy with some bookish treasure they both admired.

Caroline was furious. She was still only a tradesman's daughter, regardless how wealthy her father had become or how many peers she had bedded. The idea that the poor little country innocent, Eliza Bennet, was now among the elite of the land was galling in the extreme. Caroline decided it was time for her to either finally win him or trade in on their nasty little secret.

In was not until late September that Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mr. Horace Bennet, Miss Georgiana Darcy, and Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam descended upon Rosings Park for a short two-week visit with Lady Catherine and her daughter, Anne. Aunt Catherine was overjoyed to have her two darling nephews back in her home and was determined to make this visit unforgettable, removing forever the strain that had tested them over a year before.

Nothing of the prior rancor would intrude on this visit, and she made certain that all were afforded the best of servants and rooms. As they began arriving in the late afternoon, Catherine greeted each personally and suggested they retire to their suites to rest and refresh themselves. Dinner would be served at eight that evening.

Lizzy was amazed at the difference in her reception by Lady Catherine, let alone the attention being lavished upon them all. Her father had his own suite of rooms across from theirs, both breathtaking in their splendor. The view from the balcony was beyond beautiful, the very best in the manor, overlooking the park and the lake beyond. Flowers, candies, and fruit had been placed everywhere, and a bath would be drawn, for both husband and wife in their respective dressing rooms, whenever they desired.

"This is unbelievable." With awestruck reverence, she wandered through room after room then out onto the massive stone balcony. The view of the park really was overwhelming.

"You needn't whisper, Elizabeth. Rosings Park is not holy ground, no matter what my aunt thinks."

"To imagine this is where you were sleeping while I was stuffed into Charlotte Collins's tiny little cottage, listening to her husband's ruminations on St. Paul and the place of women in the home."

"You are very much mistaken, madam." Darcy walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her fast-expanding waist. "I've never stayed in these rooms before. These rooms are usually reserved for visiting royalty. No, my pathetic room was down another hall and much smaller. I think she's attempting to make amends," he whispered in her ear.

"Well...I must admit to it working--I feel a bit less animosity with every door I open. Why, look at this sitting room, William. I have never seen so much silk and gold in my life! Look at these murals! And even the ceilings are magnificent!!"

"The real telling point will be the bed. My old bed here is an abomination." They walked back into the bedroom toward a massive canopied four-poster surrounded with heavy brocade draperies. Beautiful antique tapestries lined the walls of a room crowded with elegantly carved furniture, crystal, and marble anywhere there wasn't gold. Darcy immediately jumped atop the bed.

"Good heavens! She really must be feeling guilty. This is certainly a great improvement on my old bed. I should have married you long ago, Miss Bennet--my back would have been spared years of agony."

Elizabeth turned to the huge double doors of their balcony, opening them wide to better enjoy the gardens that were just beginning to explode with autumn beauty and fall flowers. "The fragrance from these gardens is overpowering. It makes me feel quite wanton."

"Well, in that case, come over here, ducks."

Elizabeth turned toward the bed but barely saw her husband now lost amidst the curtains, pillows, bolsters, and feather covers. He raised up his hand. "I'm in here. Wait there, and I'll come over and fling you up top."

She ran giggling to the side and tried to leap up, but her legs were too short and her stomach grown too big. She bounced backward. Darcy was at her side immediately, and together, they laughingly hoisted themselves onto the mattress and then collapsed into laughter.

"Do you realize that King George himself, as well as many from the royal court of Vienna, princes from Spain, even the Dauphin have all slept in this very bed?" Darcy was struggling to pull them over toward the center.

"They may very well still be here..."

***

Georgiana was already speaking with Lady Catherine and looked up as her brother and Lizzy entered the room. "Good evening, Brother," she said as she ran to greet them.

"Ah, there you all are at last. Georgiana, Anne and I have had a wonderful visit while you all were napping. I hope your rooms are to your liking and you are warm enough."

"Warm enough?" Fitzwilliam scowled. "Are you mad, Catherine? It must be nearly eighty-five degrees up there, at least as hot as Spain in July. It's late September, you know, not early January."

"Well, you may be accustomed to sleeping on the ground, exposed to heaven knows what with cloven-hoofed animals and ensigns milling about, Hottentots running naked here and there. But gently bred ladies, especially those who are breeding, need warmth and comfort."

Fitzwilliam bowed. "And, evidently, parboiling."

Lady Catherine's foot began tapping in aggravation. "Richard..."

"Very well, I stand corrected, once again, dear Aunt Catherine. If Elizabeth, Anne, and Georgiana are comfortable, the Hottentots and I can just open a window."

"Well, no need to drag foreigners through the house." Nodding majestically to her guests, Catherine turned toward Lizzy's father. "Mr. Bennet?" She smiled warmly, and her eyes twinkled.
My goodness, but he is quite a handsome man
. "Would you be so kind as to escort me in to dinner?"
Quite handsome
.

"I would be most honored, your ladyship." Catherine placed her hand upon Mr. Bennet's arm while Fitzwilliam escorted Anne and Darcy escorted his wife and sister into dinner.

All at once, the doors to the dining room were flung open to reveal a magnificently decorated table in the finest-looking room Lizzy had ever seen. There were huge murals painted on the walls and ceiling, and tapestries that rivaled any museum's. Vases of immense floral bouquets graced the halls and table. Larger-than-life statues in cut stone stood in a huge circle that surrounded the dining area. Massive crystal chandeliers glittered above, being magnified by huge gilt-edged mirrors. It was breathtaking.

***

"Darcy, you won't believe who's still in service here. Old Margaret MacLeod. Can you believe it? I've had my eye on that bit of fluff since she was a vixen of seventy-two." Each heavily ornate chair had its own footman who hurried forward to assist with seating.

Everyone laughed, except for Lady Catherine, whose eyes narrowed at him. "Richard! I really cannot condone this manner of discourse. Old Margaret has been with me practically from my conception, even before, if my memory serves. Please show her some respect." Lady Catherine took her place at the head of the table, motioning to the others to be seated.

"We often speak of you, you know," Catherine continued, nodding for the wine to be poured. "Yes. When I assure her you will probably one day be hanged, well, it just seems to cheer her so."

It was a pleasant surprise to Mr. Bennet, the atmosphere in the dining room so informal and lighthearted, everyone laughing and talking at once. It wasn't at all what he had expected. A rather unusual family, this, not the stuffy aristocracy he had vaguely remembered from his youth and had been dreading. Not in the least.

He looked first at Fitzwilliam, whose head had shot back with laughter at his aunt's remark. Mr. Bennet liked Fitzwilliam immensely, admiring his disarmingly easy manner and gentle wit.

He cast his gaze at his son-in-law, who had become a constant source of friendship and strength to him. It was evident now that the proud, arrogant man Mr. Bennet had feared would dominate his beloved daughter had never really existed at all. In reality, Darcy was a well-read, educated gentleman, and more importantly, someone who adored Lizzy, providing her with a happy, secure home.

He looked across at Darcy's sister, Georgiana, normally shy and modest away from her brother's side. She was relaxed and laughing heartily here, a reclusive beauty emerging in their midst.

Finally, he looked to his side at his beloved Lizzy, happier than he had ever seen her.
What a shame her mother could not be here with us, to see that our daughter is so blessed
. He felt suddenly overcome with the grief of his recent loss.

"Mr. Bennet," called Aunt Catherine. "No introspection is allowed at table this visit. There will be no serious thought tonight in deference to the youngsters with whom we find ourselves. We would not want to call attention to their intellectual inferiority in any way. We are family and will enjoy the time we have together, for too quickly it can be taken from us." Aunt Catherine looked meaningfully at him. She understood the devastation in losing a spouse, no matter how tenuous or difficult the relationship. It was half of your life that would never return.

"My very thoughts, Lady Catherine," replied Mr. Bennet after a moment's pause.

"Tell me, Mr. Bennet, how can we amuse you during your visit? Do you hunt?" Lady Catherine was spooning her turtle soup, blowing delicately to cool it.

"No, Lady Catherine, I am afraid I do not," Mr. Bennet replied, also sampling his soup. "I am certain an animal would sooner die of laughter than gunshot wound if I even made the attempt."

"Excellent, excellent. I abhor blood sports of any kind, animals being far superior to many people of my acquaintance." She selected a small roll and broke it, dipping it deftly into her soup.

"Charades? Do you enjoy charades, Mr. Bennet?" Motioning to a footman, she signaled him to clean up the crumbs that had mysteriously appeared around her plate after she broke open the roll.

"Unfortunately, I detest them, your ladyship." Mr. Bennet nodded when asked if he would like more soup, and his wineglass was again filled. "More often than not, I shout out the answer so that I can return to my seat and then feign embarrassment at my faux pas. With my advanced years, younger people usually assume me to be lack-witted and forgive me."

"Wonderful. Very clever." She was beginning to warm tremendously to her guest. "Anne thinks they are absolutely ludicrous, and I am in complete agreement with her. Even though she would be an excellent player, if her health would permit it."

They all glanced over at Anne, who blushed at the attention being shown her and then spit something she could not chew into her napkin.

"Cards, Mr. Bennet? Do you play cards?" Lady Catherine was pointing energetically to him with the leg of a small capon. "Answer this correctly, Mr. Bennet, and we have the promise of an exceptionally enjoyable two weeks ahead of us."

"I am afraid, your ladyship, that I tend to drift off while playing cards. At least I make a concerted effort to, and then I deliberately snore very loudly in the hopes that I will be thought enfeebled and asked to retire early."

Lady Catherine was overjoyed. "Thank heavens. Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we have the perfect houseguest in our midst, and I was afraid this was going to be a taxing two weeks of nonsense. Now we can just relax and do whatever we want. I, for one, plan to read, eat, and sleep, hopefully not all at once."

Mr. Bennet relaxed visibly. "I believe I know now why Lizzy loves this family so well."

***

Darcy had little prepared Lizzy and Mr. Bennet for the quality of service and the quantity of food served. There was at least one attendant for each person at table, and a stream of servers coming and going with all variety of removes--exotic meats and strange vegetables, out-of-season fruits, and generous libations. There was even a string quartet in attendance, playing at the far end of the room.

Mr. Bennet watched amazed at the carefully orchestrated ballet of service. If they were not so professional, he could easily have expected flying trays and dropped puddings, he mused.

"Darcy, I see you two have the imperial apartments up there in the golden tower. Quite an improvement, or so I was informed by your valet." Fitzwilliam had finished up his meal and was leaning back in his chair. "While you are dreaming happily in the suite usually reserved for royalty, try to keep in mind that I am located over the poultry house. It is just as you remember, I am sure--thumbscrews, the rack, chains on the walls. You both must come and visit me there once the ice lining the hallway thaws. Bring a physician."

Lady Catherine was unsympathetic. "When you finally marry--and you
will
marry, Richard, even if I have to drug you--you also will have the use of one of the larger suites. Until then, you will have to make do with the rooms you have always occupied." She leaned over to feed pate to several of the whimpering dogs who had gathered at her feet. "I'm not made of money, you know."

"Well, I was thinking, dearest Aunt, that since I am now a famous and decorated war hero, you would feel obligated to accommodate me with one of the grander suites, a suite befitting my new stature and popularity." Fitzwilliam grinned devilishly at his aunt, who was summoning her faithful retainer, Jamison, to her side. She handed the man three of the dogs, one at a time.

"Well, I am surprised, Fitzwilliam. I am truly surprised." Catherine motioned for the fruits and sweet desserts to be brought in by the waiting footmen.

"What surprises you--that I would attempt to capitalize on my newfound fame in order to upgrade my rooms?"

"No, my dear, merely that you were thinking."

Amidst the groans and the laughter, Catherine raised her hand to protest. "No, I am quite serious, Richard. One hears such shameful reports about the conduct of our army, and you and your little flock of associates in particular were most scandalous."

"Yes, Cousin," beamed a mischievous Georgiana. "There were some very outrageous incidents hinted at in the papers. One in particular I always wondered about--did your officers really smuggle in ten opera dancers disguised as French prisoners?"

The shocked and discomfited look on Fitzwilliam's face made Darcy light up with amusement. He had heard the story two years before over an entire night of drinking when Fitzwilliam was home on leave. "Yes, old man, please tell us the story of the ten opera dancers."

Fitzwilliam shot him a daggered look. "It was not ten!" he declared, incensed. As they all waited in silent suspense for his further explanation, he exhaled a disgruntled breath. "All right, all right. There were only eight of them, and it was not as unseemly as you imply, brat!" He squirmed at the laughter now incapacitating them all and looked away, fighting his own laughter. In point of fact, it had been worse than unseemly, it had been downright debauched. The women actually were common Portuguese whores disguised as French prisoners, had been paid by a pool of money collected in a hat passed by him and his fellow drunken officers (eager to take advantage of the women's generous holiday rates) and then, to the accompaniment of their giggles, the women had been used as dinner plates. He vaguely remembered a drunken moment in which he was eating fried eggs and kippers right from within a naked woman's...