Darcy and Fitzwilliam: A Tale of a Gentleman and an Officer

He slammed the exquisite, if slightly dented, beaver hat on his head and bellowed, “ Lis is bast strew…! ” Annoyingly, he was screaming in tongues again and took a moment to compose himself, taking long, deep breaths. Finally calmed, he could continue. “This is the last straw, Mrs. Darcy! I can abide your disrespect, your viper tongue, your bad temper no longer. I am leaving you, and may you have joy of the evening.”

“That’s the best gift of the season. In actuality, it is the only gift of the season!” She hissed directly into his waistcoat buttons, spraying saliva everywhere and sounding much more defiant than she felt. “Just see that you don’t return!!”

His eyes narrowed dangerously, and for the first time in their short marriage, Elizabeth thought that perhaps she might have gone a little too far. As he raised his arm, she jumped back, covering her head as if to protect herself from an imminent blow. He was only attempting to wipe his buttons.

“How dare you!” Now he had gone past mere anger into an unknown realm of fury. He turned into a stranger before her very eyes. “How dare you insinuate that I would strike a woman! You really don’t know me at all, do you? You never really did.”

He turned on his heel and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him. It banged open again and then closed with a thud. Elizabeth could hear his heavy footsteps going down the stairs and heard him wrench open the foyer door, storming out into the night. She struggled to resist the impulse to run to the window to call him back, so she sat down at her dressing table very quietly, holding onto the edge of the seat cushion. Her heart was pounding furiously. Maybe he’ll turn around and come back. All couples have their little ups and downs, don’t they? If he would come up here and take me in his arms, why, that is all I really want, some assurance that he still loves me.

But what if he meant it? What if he never does come back?

Her blood ran cold. Although not normally one to give in to tears, they ran freely down her cheeks now. When will this nightmare ever end? She tenderly patted her huge stomach and shifted restlessly on the dresser chair, thinking nothing of the tremendous pressure increasing on her bottom and her back. She rose awkwardly and waddled to the window in hopes of seeing him turning in the street, to see him walking back to her, but all was deathly quiet. He was gone already.

***

It had been a brief hour before this unpleasant encounter with her husband that Lizzy had received the note along with the return of her long-lost locket. Up until then, it had been an idyllic day with all the concern over Fitzwilliam’s whereabouts behind them and then the joy of his happy news. She had actually even forgotten about the locket.

Darcy had made his annual appearance at the Boxing Day breakfast for the staff, passing out their Christmas bonuses—hefty bonuses to compensate for his increasingly irrational behavior. Then the couple exchanged their own special gifts in private and spent the afternoon quietly and happily alone, laughing and talking together.

She was confused at first but overjoyed that the precious item, the only thing she had ever received from her mother, was returned. Wherever did this come from? It had taken her several minutes to understand what was being implied. At first she thought the note was from Jane, but that made little sense. How did Jane get my locket? Her brows beetled in confusion. No, it wasn’t Jane’s stationery, but it was on Bingley stationery.

“Miss Bennet,” the note began.

Miss Bennet? There is only one person so ignorant and pig-headed enough to still call me Miss Bennet. She began to read again,

Miss Bennet,