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

He could not speak for a long while. “If I thought that, I don’t know what I would do to her, can’t even let myself think. But I tell you we won’t ever again see or hear from her. I will have to tell Bingley the whole story, and you will need to confide in your sister Jane so that we can arrange our visits with them without coming into contact with Caroline. Is that all right with you, Elizabeth?”

She nodded. “I would never lose Jane through this. I think they will both understand. I hope so, at any rate.”

“Now, go to sleep. I’ll put the angel back into his cradle.”

Chapter 9

All around him, as far as he could see, Fitzwilliam saw babies, cooing babies crawling where there should have been the mutilated dead bodies of grown men. This was unacceptable. It was going to take him all night to collect these children and bring them somewhere that would be safe, and then who would feed them? He turned to his sergeant major, sorry to observe that the entire side of the poor man’s head was still blown away. He tried to help the soldier reattach the jawbone of his shattered face then pointed to the babies crawling between them, around them. The man nodded in silent understanding, and they both began to walk to the glacis surrounding the burning fortress.

Fitzwilliam was standing once again at the siege of Badajoz, and the constant pounding of the cannonade in his dreams gradually altered itself into ordinary knocking on their bedroom door, easily dismissed at first, but soon the unrelenting persistence grew closer and louder, and Richard awoke.

Amanda’s eyes, however, had blinked wide open immediately with the certain knowledge of what was happening. “Don’t say a word,” she whispered into his ear. “Ignore her. Please.” They heard someone call his name. It was the morning of their third day at Pemberley House, their departure delayed for many reasons—contentment at being together finally, complacency over their success at escaping, minor difficulties in obtaining just the right coach, passage to the Continent becoming intermittent, ruled by the weather. Besides, no one had bothered them. The sense of urgency had diminished.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam. It’s the nursemaid, sir. Mr. Darcy is at the dressing-room door and says he must speak with you immediately. There are some people outside, sir.” She sounded anxious.

Fitzwilliam scrubbed his eyes with his hand to force the sleep from them. He heard Darcy in the distance bark an order down to someone on the first floor, sounding angrier and more urgent now. “I must see to him, Amanda. Darcy would never be pounding on our door like this if it wasn’t important.” She attempted to stop him, but he patted off her hand and was pulling on his smallclothes, breeches, and shirt before she could say anything more.

He walked quickly across their bedroom, pulling open their door.

“Excuse me, please, Colonel, for disturbing you like this, but Mr. Darcy is that insistent.”

“Yes, that’s quite all right. I understand. If you would, bring the child in here to his mother.” He turned toward Amanda to give her some instruction, but his breath caught at the sight of her. She stood in the corner of the room, looking small and petrified. He smiled faintly at her and then whispered to the nurse as he passed, “Please close the door to the bedroom after I leave.” She nodded in understanding.

***

“What has happened?” Richard watched as Darcy stormed past him into the sitting room. Plainly about to explode with anger, he turned around at the table before the fireplace, his hands on his hips. Richard raised his hand to stay him, giving a quick glance at the closed bedroom door. “And please keep your voice down. I don’t want Amanda unnecessarily alarmed.” It was a moment before Darcy could calm himself enough to speak.

“I’ll tell you what has happened.” Darcy moved closer. “The world has gone mad. That’s what has happened. There are at least a dozen hideous-looking Bow Street thugs out there—poor old Winters was nearly struck by one of them. They tried to force their way into the house, the bastards! Luckily, my hideous-looking thugs are bigger and so managed to keep the scoundrels out. But here’s the thing—I believe they are demanding the boy be brought out immediately. I overheard someone exclaiming loudly that the child had been kidnapped, if you can imagine a mother being accused of that! And a crowd is quickly gathering. Evidently, the entire area has suddenly decided to use a good woman’s personal tragedy as diverting entertainment.”

“Damn it! I am so sorry to have brought this to your doorstep. I should have known. Blast, we should have left yesterday.”

“The point is that we must shield Amanda and the boy. I cannot permit a child to be taken from his mother, most especially a member of my own family, and they are both part of this family now.” Darcy was storming back and forth before the fireplace, pounding his fist into his hand.

“You know you’re beautiful when you’re angry.”