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

“From where in bloody hell did that come?” A bewildered Darcy turned toward his aunt after closing the foyer doors, still reeling from the vision of her bowing to the cheering masses.

“I have no idea.” Inhaling deeply, she stared dreamily up into the heavens, her lips pursed dramatically. “It’s something from the Bible, I believe. I would have been a remarkably proficient actress, you know.” She smoothed the sides of her coiffure, tucking any stray hairs back beneath her now properly positioned tricorn hat with feather. She then dusted the hair powder from her shoulders and smartly snapped her nomadic patch back onto her left cheek. “Of course, so would Anne, if her health had permitted her.” They all turned to stare at Anne, who had snuck in behind her mother. She narrowed her eyes to squint back at them all and weakly coughed.

***

“All right, young man.” When they reached the center of the room and stood before the fireplace, she turned to confront Fitzwilliam. “Where is this female with whom you have been ensconced?” She held up her hand when he attempted to form his angry rebuke. “Save your breath. I know all about that disgusting inn and your scandalous behavior. It is her son of whom they speak, I imagine. By God, I think you have finally crossed the line this time, young man. This has all the potential of becoming a greater ton scandal than even you could imagine!”

As a fuming Fitzwilliam again attempted to open his mouth to respond, Amanda called out from the bottom of the stairs, “Richard?”

She looked small and pale and drab standing alone in the doorway, dressed once again in her detested dark grey jumper and high-necked black blouse. Her hair was pulled back into a severe knot.

“Aha! So there you are!” Catherine turned. Her whole body seemed to twitch into place as her hands folded primly before her. “Madam, how dare you cause my family this humiliation, this mortification, this…”

“Silence, Catherine!” shouted Fitzwilliam. “I warn you to think very carefully before you say anything.”

Uncaring of all else, Amanda walked past Catherine and up to her husband. “Have they finally come for him?” Her voice was barely audible.

Fitzwilliam nodded, his eyes shining with his heartbreak for her; she looked frightened and so vulnerable. He wanted badly to hold her and kiss away the sadness. Placing his hands upon her shoulders, he gave them a gentle squeeze. “We had a visit from a representative of the magistrate. He came with a court order for Harry.” A premonition of disaster made him pause before continuing. “I am afraid Harry must return to your mother-in-law within twenty-four hours. I am so sorry, my love.”

Amanda closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her mouth, giving herself time enough to tamp down her emotions. “It is no more nor less than I expected. Well, there’s nothing more to be done, I suppose.”

Fitzwilliam cupped her face with his hands, and she smiled back bravely, blinking away her tears. “That’s my good girl.”

“If you would help me find Harry’s shoes, I will return with him immediately. We don’t want her to be any more upset than necessary.”

Fitzwilliam nodded and began to tuck in his shirt. “We can then go directly to our solicitors and see what will be our next action.”

“Let me know what they tell you as soon as you are able, Richard, if you would. Perhaps you can send a message over with Georgiana when she visits Emily, only please ask her to be as discreet as possible. I will warn Emily.” Amanda looked composed as she searched the room for her child’s things. No one could tell her heart felt as if it were shattering.

“Fitzwilliam, I demand a word with you!” Catherine could barely speak; she was absolutely furious at being so ignored. “What is going on here?”

“Not now, Aunt!” His movements had stopped, and he glared down at Amanda’s bent head.

“Oh, William, I have left my new cloak in the colonel’s suite. I trust that is acceptable.” Seeing her son’s shoes on the side of the settee, she bent to retrieve them, her movements heavy and slow. With growing sadness, she felt each step, each decision, each action that was taking her farther away from her beloved husband. She scratched her forehead, trying to remember all the little things she wanted to tell him. “Richard, I put the wedding ring in your top drawer. It will be safer here.”

“My home is completely at your disposal, Amanda.” Darcy watched in sadness as his cousin’s face drained of color. An ominous silence had filled the room.

“Fitzwilliam!”

He ignored his aunt’s repeated call and grabbed Amanda’s wrist, pulling her before the fireplace to speak in relative privacy. “What do you mean, Amanda, ‘Send a message with Emily’?” His eyes narrowed to slits. “Why would I have need to send a message to you with Emily when you will be accompanying me, at my side at all times?”

Amanda stared, blinking at her husband for several moments before speaking. “Whatever do you mean, Richard?”