The Three Colonels (18 page)

Sir John turned to his wife. “Play for me?” he asked as he gestured to the pianoforte in the corner.

Caroline nodded and walked over to the instrument. She had no music, so she played from memory. When the wine arrived, Sir John poured two glasses and placed Caroline's on the pianoforte within her reach. He then retreated to a table and chairs close by and listened attentively.

For an hour, Caroline played and sang for her audience of one—every piece she knew and loved. Never had she performed with such emotion. The instrument was poorly tuned and would have affected the pleasure of the casual listener, but to Sir John it was the most beautiful music he had ever heard. The innkeeper had to fight tears as he served the supper.

Finally, Caroline sounded the final chord. She took a sip of her wine and gracefully moved over to share the meal provided them. For the next half hour, the two ate in contented silence, sometimes holding hands.

Finally, after an after-dinner brandy, Caroline rose, took her husband by the hand, and returned upstairs to their rooms. “Tonight is my gift to you, beloved,” she said to him once the door was closed. “You have given your Caro so much love and pleasure.”

She gave him a gentle kiss, then took two steps backwards and unfastened her gown. After a bit of reaching, she slipped it from her body. Looking Sir John in the eye, she removed the remainder of her garments. Nude, save for the carnelian cameo he had given her, she stepped close to him and began to remove his jacket. Slipping it off, Caroline placed it upon a chair near the window. She then turned her attentions to his neck cloth and shirt.

Once Sir John was bare-chested, Caroline gently pushed him towards the bed until he was forced to sit upon it, and at once, she removed her husband's shoes and stockings. Caroline then rose and kissed Sir John as her hands unfastened his breeches. The lovers kissed more passionately as Caroline worked the remaining garment down Sir John's legs, and then urged her husband to recline on the bed. She climbed up on the bed and knelt at his feet.

Caroline slid up his body, kissing the skin as she went, before snuggling into his arms. The pair lay together for a time, resting and caressing each other. Finally, Caroline rose up on her elbow and looked her husband in the eye as she stroked him.

His need as great as hers, he complied eagerly. No preliminaries—he drove himself into her, filling her as she expelled a satisfied gasp. Caroline's green eyes bore into her husband's, urging him on. Their coupling was mad, rushed—hands, lips everywhere—until her muscles convulsed around him, her flood triggering his, both crying out in mutual delight.

As they lay spent, Caroline ran her fingertips along his chin while looking into his blue eyes with adoration.

“
Rwy'n dy gari di
, Johnny.”

“
Rwy'n dy gari di
, Caro.”

***

Sir John awoke before the sunrise to find his wife not in the bed beside him. He turned to see her form near the window, facing out, waiting for the dawn. Wordlessly he left the bed and crossed over to Caroline, embracing her from behind. She leaned against his strong body and softly sighed. Adam and Eve then watched the cruel sun steal the last of the night from them.

***

The captain of the merchantman eyed the hourglass as the last of the morning watch drained away. He planned to set sail by two bells in the forenoon watch—nine in the morning, about an hour away—assuming that the special passengers had arrived, of course. By then, the tide should be running.

Mr. Gardiner would lose a bit on this run, he thought to himself. The little bit of cargo would in no way cover the expense of the trip, a loss that would only increase if the ship missed the morning tide. He turned and looked over the harbor. Warships and merchantmen, mostly Dutch and British, filled the port and the ways while boats scurried about between them and the docks. Men and matériel were flooding into Antwerp in preparation for war.

A master's mate cried out, “Eight bells!” and turned the glass. As the last of the bells rang out, a coach pulled alongside. The carriage door opened, and a tall cavalry officer in Dragoon blue stepped out; he turned first to assist a maid and then a lady of consequence. From the other side of the carriage emerged a servant. He and the maid gathered up some carpetbags and stepped towards the gangplank. They were stopped by a mate, who turned to look at the quarterdeck.

The captain called out, “Colonel Buford's party, sir?”

“Aye,” came the reply from the officer. “Permission to come aboard, sir.”

The captain nodded and called to the boatswain, “See to the passengers, Jones,” pleased that the customs of the sea had been followed by such a landlubber. The boatswain directed a few men to relieve the servants of their burdens as he escorted the maid and valet below decks.

The last to board the ship were the army officer and his wife. The colonel walked up to the ship's captain, his lady on his arm.

“I am Colonel Sir John Buford. This is my wife, Lady Buford. My man, Roberts, and my wife's maid, Abigail, have just gone below. I thank you and your employer, Mr. Gardiner, for your kind assistance to my family.”

The captain gave a nod. He may have reached no higher than lieutenant while he was in the Royal Navy, but as captain of a merchant vessel, he bowed to no man whilst on his own quarterdeck. “Very happy to be of service, Sir John, Lady Buford.”

“I deliver into your hands all that is precious to me.”

The captain blinked at the raw emotion in the colonel's words. “Never fear, sir. I'll watch over 'em as if they were me own.”

Sir John mumbled his thanks and turned to his wife. Instinctively, the captain turned away to grant the couple what little privacy could be had on a ship's deck. To his irritation, he saw one of the ship's boys gawking at the couple.

“Avast there! Get along with ye, or you'll see the end of the boson's starter!”

The colonel began to raise his lady's hand to his lips when she tore loose from his grasp, flung her arms around his neck, and kissed him quite openly. The captain was quite embarrassed to witness such a private moment. He felt like an intruder on his own deck. The couple murmured words to each other that sounded to the captain's ears like Welsh, and then the officer turned and walked down the gangplank to the dock.

“Jones!” called the captain. “Get the ship under way!” The crew leapt to the work of warping the ship out of dock, while the lady moved instinctively to the stern, watching the colonel, who stood by the carriage. Soon the morning air began to fill the sails. At the command, topsails and gallants were dropped and the ship picked up speed.

The lady remained at the ship's stern until land was out of sight.

***

Caroline searched through her carpetbag in the cabin she shared with Abigail, a cabin that had previously belonged to the sailing master. The wind had turned against them, and it would take at least a night of tacking before the ship could pass by the cliffs of Dover.

As she looked for something to sleep in, Caroline came across the items that were used during her monthly courses. She held up the items, a strange thought suddenly occurring to her.

I
have
not
used
these
for
some
time. When was the last time? Just before the wedding?

Other thoughts came to her—her sickness in the mornings, her clothes feeling tighter, her breasts becoming tender. Things she had dismissed before as resulting from anxiety, rich food, and intense lovemaking.

Can
it
be? Am I with child? Could I be carrying John's child?

All of her life, Caroline dreamed of marrying an important, titled man. Childbirth had never occurred to her. Motherhood, yes, in an obscure manner, but not the actual process of pregnancy and childbirth. Fear and uncertainty flooded her mind, along with a single thought:
I
must
let
John
know!

But first, she must be certain. She must seek out a physician straight away once she reached London.

***

London

Lady Buford was escorted down the gangplank by the captain himself, Roberts and Abigail trailing behind. No sooner had her foot touched land than she heard her name called. Caroline turned and saw Philip and Rebecca Buford waving, standing next to a coach. As her in-laws approached, Caroline thanked the captain for his kindness and took her leave of him. Roberts began to see to the collection of their trunks as Caroline greeted her family.

“Philip, Rebecca, I am so happy to see you! Thank you for coming.”

“Thank us?” cried her brother. “What sort of foolishness is that? Of course we are here. You are a Buford, you know.” After kissing her on both cheeks in the French style, he excused himself to help Roberts. There was that informality again, thought Caroline.

“Caroline,” said Rebecca, “are you well? You look a bit flushed.”

Caroline reminded herself that she would have to become accustomed to the Bufords' abruptness. She prevaricated. “I am well, Rebecca, I thank you—only desirous to get home.”

“Very well, my dear.” Mrs. Buford then called out to her husband. “Philip, Caroline is tired and wishes to go to the house!”

Caroline was taken aback.
What? But I said—

“Very well, my dear. Take the coach—bring the maid with you. Roberts and I shall see to all this baggage. I shall meet you at Buford House. Farewell!”

***

“Caroline, my dear,” said Mrs. Albertine Buford as she embraced her daughter-in-law and kissed her on both cheeks.

“Mrs. Buford—I mean, Mother Buford, I am glad to be here,” answered Caroline. She then looked beyond the old woman and gasped.

“I see you have noticed our little surprise, yes?” Mother Buford said with a smile. Standing in the sitting room were Louisa Hurst and Jane Bingley. Caroline dashed to embrace her sisters with tears in her eyes.

After exchanging kisses and tears, Caroline asked about her brothers. “They will join us at dinner, will they not, Louisa?” answered Jane as she wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. “They wanted us to have a bit of time to ourselves. But there is someone who wishes very much to see you.” She turned to a maid who was holding Susan Bingley. Caroline's tears were redoubled as she took her goddaughter in her arms.

***

The physician was requested two days later, and Caroline received him in her bedroom. “Congratulations, my lady,” said Mr. Wexley as he finished his examination. “You are indeed with child and everything seems to be progressing well.”

Caroline could not decide whether or not she was happy. “When will the baby come, Mr. Wexley?”

“Oh, I believe we should look for the happy event somewhere around the first week of November. Nothing to worry about now. Do not tire yourself, and eat well. That is my usual recommendation. Your confinement will not be for some time yet.” He paused and looked hard at her. “I must say, after everything you say you went through on your journey home, well… if there was any danger, it is passed already.”

An hour later, Caroline shared the news with the Buford ladies. Both were delighted with Caroline's report and showered the expectant mother with kind words and affection. Though she found it hard to believe, Caroline was coming to the opinion that the two ladies actually liked her.

The response of Louisa and Jane was as joyful as expected. Charles was silly, and even Hurst said something kind. The Buford, Bingley, and Hurst families were sitting down to tea when the Darcys were announced.

Is
this
a
tea
party
or
a
ball
at
Almack's?
thought Caroline with a bit of impatience.

Mother Buford noticed Caroline's mood. She leaned over and whispered, “Good friends are like good wine—they should be enjoyed at every occasion. Life is too short to stand upon propriety, my dear, especially in times like these.”

Lady Buford considered her mother-in-law thoughtfully.

***

Col. Sir John Buford

——nd Lt. Dragoons, Antwerp, Belgium

My dearest love,

Forgive the delay of this letter. Our party arrived safely in London four days ago. We were met by Philip and Rebecca, who took us home to Buford House.

This morning, two soldiers from your regiment came with written instructions to gather up your uniforms, necessities, sword, and equipment—your “kit,” I believe one of them called it. No sooner had I escorted them to your rooms than Colonel Fitzwilliam was announced. He was kind enough to assist me to supervise the packing. He told me that he has already been in contact with your second-in-command, and he shall see to it personally that your saddle and other equipment arrive safely in Belgium. I am happy you will have the company of such an amusing and thoughtful friend as the colonel while you are away from your home and those who dearly love you.

My dearest, I send news of the greatest joy. Come November, there shall be another Buford in the world. Please do not be concerned. The physician was quite satisfied, and I am in excellent health and spirits. Our family is delighted at the news—Mother Buford, I think, most of all.

When I look into a mirror, I almost weep knowing that the evidence of our love is even now growing within me. That is, until I recall what this will do to my figure—then I do weep!

I shall close now, but I promise faithfully to write you as often as may be.

Rwy'n dy gari di,

CAROLINE

Buford House, London

Rosings Park

A miserable Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam rode slowly through the town of Hunsford towards Rosings Park. As he passed the Clarke household, he barely acknowledged the wave of welcome from the inhabitants.

Such
a
greeting
is
not
surprising. Thanks to me, your income just doubled
, he thought with uncharitable bitterness.

Richard's uncharacteristic bitterness sprung from his expectations for his short visit. Whitehall had been most desirous of his return to duty, and it had taken much of Lord Matlock's influence to secure this short leave. Richard was exceedingly thankful for his father's efforts, for he could not bear to sail to the Continent with his regiment without first taking his leave of Anne. That meant admitting his feelings for his cousin, but the earl and the viscount had chosen to be kind rather than caustic. Richard knew well his hypocrisy; he loved nothing more than to tease, but he had little tolerance for it being aimed in his direction.

Richard was melancholy enough at leaving Anne now, just as he finally knew his heart, but to face her gatekeeper again—his harridan of an aunt—after their last interview was a price painful to pay. But pay he must if he meant to say good-bye to his beloved.

Within a few minutes, he passed the parsonage and saw the Reverend Mr. Collins attending his garden.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam!” he cried, “how good to see you again so soon. What a pleasure it is to have the company of such an august gentleman as yourself, unselfishly serving our king…”

Richard allowed the man to prattle on. The vicar meant well, and Mrs. Collins was a good friend to Anne. Within a few minutes, the lady of the house came out to join them. “Colonel, you are welcome indeed! Please take a few moments to step inside and take your ease.”

Something in Mrs. Collins's demeanor encouraged Richard to agree to her suggestion. Richard knew he had chosen well when Mrs. Collins declared to her husband, “Mr. Collins, what are you about? The meeting of the church lay council starts within the half hour!” She effectively shooed the man upstairs to make himself presentable before returning to their guest.

“I am glad we have these few moments to talk in private,” Mrs. Collins began. “Things have been very strained at Rosings since you left. Your orders have improved things in the village, I dare say. Even Mr. Collins will agree—in private—but Lady Catherine has been… very unhappy since your departure in February. I am afraid Miss Anne has taken the brunt of her abuse.”

Richard turned white with anger. “Is that so? Why has my father not been informed?”

“Because Miss Anne would not permit it,” came a voice from the hallway.

The two turned at the sound. Mr. Collins, wearing an unreadable expression, stood at the foot of the stairs, his cravat in his hand to be tied.

“Mr. Collins!” exclaimed his wife. “I—”

“Charlotte, you do not need to explain. I know why you sent me away.” He crossed over to her and laid his hand on her shoulder. “It is I who need forgiveness. I have given far too much of my attention to our unworthy patroness and not enough to the mother of my children. I have not lived up to my own sermons. It is no wonder that you do not confide in me. I shall labor to earn your trust.”

Mrs. Collins looked upon him in absolute shock.

The tall vicar turned to Richard, clearly in shame and regret. “As I said before, I am very glad you are here. Miss Anne, who had shown such Christian condescension as to befriend my dear Charlotte, has been most unhappy. Lady Catherine, I am not pleased to report, has been very unkind to her—indeed to the whole household. Why, she even had cross words for Mrs. Collins just last week! I know I owe my situation to Lady Catherine's benevolence, but it is dearly bought. We must pay deference to those of high rank, but… but to treat my wife no better than a servant? The daughter of a knight? It is becoming intolerable!

“I throw myself at your feet, begging for deliverance. I have attempted as Lady Catherine's pastor, in the most respectful manner, to advise her to better behavior. I have tried to make her see the errors of her ways but to no avail. I would do more, but… you see, my family…” Mr. Collins threw up his hands in defeat. “She has made threats.”

Richard's heart was touched. “Fear not, sir. I pledge to you that your family is in no danger. I speak for my father, the Earl of Matlock, and my cousin, Mr. Darcy, in this matter.”

To Richard's embarrassment, tears came to the man's eyes. “Oh, Colonel, you cannot know what a burden has been lifted from my shoulders. That you would turn your attention to such an unworthy man as myself is beyond any reward I could hope for. Speak! Ask any question; my wife and I are at your disposal.” Mr. Collins had clearly switched his allegiance to the family of Matlock.

“But your meeting, sir?” asked Richard. “I fear I am delaying you—”

Mrs. Collins rose to her feet. “I shall advise them that you are in a most important meeting with Colonel Fitzwilliam, my dear,” she told her husband. She turned to Richard. “They shall understand. Your name is upon everyone's lips as the savior of Hunsford.”

***

A half hour later, a better advised Richard Fitzwilliam rode to the doors of Rosings. Handing the reins to the stable hand, he ascended the steps and announced himself at the door. The butler was clearly nervous. He begged the colonel to wait upon his ladyship's pleasure.

“Nonsense, you know who I am!” Richard declared in false good humor. “I will just let myself in. No need to bother Lady Catherine, my good man.” Richard slipped past the butler and went in search of Mrs. Parks. He found her in the empty breakfast parlor.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam!” she cried. “When did you arrive, sir? Are you staying long?”

“No, madam—just to have a word or two with Lady Catherine and Miss Anne, but first I would speak with you. I understand things have been difficult lately. What may I do?”

“Oh, sir, do not worry yourself on my behalf! I am well, and I will do what I can for the staff. Please, you must save your efforts for Miss Anne.”

“The Collinses have said the same. What has happened?”

“Nothing yet, but I believe Lady Catherine is planning to take Miss Anne away—to Bath.”

“That is my understanding. Why is this a concern?”

“Lady Catherine has been after her to improve herself in order to attract a suitor.”

***

Richard paused before the great doors of the sitting room, steeling himself for the interview to come. “You may announce me,” he said to the butler.

A moment later, he heard a voice. “You may come in, Richard.”

The colonel entered the elaborate sitting room and saw his aunt sitting in her usual chair at the far end. She gave the impression of a spider in the center of her web. A slight smile seemed to dance upon her lips.

“Ah, the savior of Hunsford returns! To what do I owe this visit, Nephew?”

“Do I need a reason to visit?”

“Do not play games with me, boy. Always I have been celebrated for my frankness of character. I expect nothing less from any of my family. Why have you returned?”

“To bid you farewell. I am off to the Continent to face Bonaparte.”

This declaration seemed to take Lady Catherine by surprise. After a silence of a few moments, she said, “I am afraid I do not understand your meaning. Is not the tyrant held captive on some small island—in the Mediterranean, perhaps? Why would you need to face him? Does he need to be arrested?”

Richard was stunned that his aunt did not know what had happened. “Bonaparte has escaped Elba. He is back in Paris, and the French king has fled. The tyrant is raising an army. Britain goes to fight him yet again.”

Lady Catherine was affronted. “Escaped? Surely someone has not done their duty. I assume it was one of those foreign types that was responsible. Such a thing would not happen if an Englishman was in charge.”

“I am sure you are correct. In any case, it falls upon those who wear the king's uniform to set things right.”

“When do you leave?”

“The regiment sails in May.”

“Then you go with my blessing. Was there anything else?”

“I would like to speak to Anne before I go.”

“Yes,” she looked at him narrowly, “I suppose you do.”

Richard became wary. “Is she about? My time is short. I must leave soon.”

“What business do you have with my daughter?” Lady Catherine demanded.

“To take my leave of her, as I have done with you.”

“And is that all?”

“I am afraid I do not take your meaning, Aunt.”

“I am sure that you
do
, sir. Oh, yes—I know much more than you think.”

“I do not think I like what you are insinuating. Are you accusing me of improper behavior?”

“Is it proper to make love to my daughter under my very nose?”

“Madam!” Richard fought hard not to lose his temper. “I do not know what lies you have been told, nor do I wish to hear such vile accusations made against your daughter. Let me simply assure you that I hold Anne in the highest regard and respect, and would let nothing damage her reputation while I have breath in this body.”

“A very pretty speech. Yes, very pretty. Do you think me blind? I watched you ‘take your leave' of Anne in February. What other liberties have you been permitted? Answer me, boy!”

“Lady Catherine, I shall not dignify that question with an answer. By God, if you were a man—” Again Richard struggled to retain control. “I have nothing to say to you about Anne at this time, except this: My intentions in matters of this kind have always been honorable. Is it your belief that I have compromised your daughter? If so, than I am prepared to do the right thing by her.”
Come, Aunt, make my dreams come true.

“Oh no, you shall not have your way that easily. I know that it is Rosings Park, not Anne, that is your desire, and
that
you shall never have!” Lady Catherine's temper grew into a passion.

“I care nothing for Rosings. Besides, Rosings belongs to Anne, not you—as you well know.”

“Only because of the legal chicanery of your father and uncle! But Anne is
my
daughter; she needs my permission to marry.”

“Anne is of legal age.”

“Anne shall do as she is told! I have already made preparations—begun inquiries. Anne will be united to a proper family, one that is worthy of a de Bourgh!”

Richard narrowed his eyes. “One that can be manipulated, as well. Such a compliant man shall be hard to find. Do you believe you will find such a person in Bath?”

His aunt sneered. “Bath—London—it matters not. I know Anne shall not travel to Derbyshire again!”

Richard looked at his aunt with as much composure as he could manage. “You would condemn your daughter to a loveless marriage just so you can hold on to Rosings?”

“Love?” Lady Catherine raged. “You speak the same foolishness as your cousin! Pemberley has been polluted forever by that… that creature Darcy married. Anne will have an estate of her own, and I shall prevent you and my hateful brother from stealing Rosings from me!”

“And if Anne refuses to cooperate?”

“She would not dare! However, if none of my candidates are suitable, Anne and I will live here comfortably for the rest of our lives.”

Richard stood in awe of his aunt's selfish, ignorant maliciousness. One word from Anne would destroy her whole world. She was of legal age; Anne could marry anyone she chose. He wondered if his aunt was quite sane.

“I think there is nothing more we can say about this or any other matter. I will leave you now. Farewell, Aunt.” Richard turned to leave.

Lady Catherine called out, “I have not forgotten how you mistreated me when last you were here. You dare to speak to me without first offering me your apology? I am most severely displeased!”

Richard halted before the door. With one hand on the knob he said, “Do not be unhappy, my lady. With any luck, the French may solve your problem with me forever.” At that, Richard left the sitting room, closing the door behind him.

***

Richard stormed through the halls, trying to control his emotions, when he came upon Mrs. Parks again. She looked at him with compassion and simply said, “She is in the gardens, sir.”

With a smile, he thanked the housekeeper and dashed out the doors. Anne stood in the very same spot as in February, looking at the new buds.

“Anne!” he called as he ran to her. She, in turn, waved to him, her smile heartbreaking in its beauty. He reached her and took her hands in his. “Ah, the pretty buds of April, and here is the prettiest!”

“Oh, Richard, it is so good to see you—even if you do say such lies,” she said with joy.

To Richard's concern, he found that he did exaggerate Anne's looks. There were circles under her eyes, and she looked as if she had eaten ill for some time. Richard wondered just how horrible it had been for her at Rosings while he was gone.

Anne's eyes took in her cousin. “Richard? Why do you wear your sword?”

“Do not worry about that, my dear. Let me look at you.” Quietly, he asked, “Why did you not send for me?”

“There is nothing she can do to hurt me. Are you here long?”

“No, I must leave for London soon—”

“Did you bring the coach? I did not see it.” She looked around him and saw only his horse. Anne turned back to him. “You rode?” Suddenly there was a forlorn expression in her eyes. “Richard, why are you here?”

“Anne, I—”

Realization came to her. “It is the crisis, is it not? You are going back… back to fight Bonaparte!” Unlike her mother, she had been reading the newspapers.

Gravely, Richard answered, “Yes, Anne.”