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

“You heard me well enough, I think. Harry may be returning to Penwood, but you certainly cannot. I would never allow you to return to that life.” The forbidding scowl on his face disguised his growing alarm. “No. You will remain here with me in Darcy’s home. Harry will be returned to his grandmother, and he will be fine there. You said yourself that she adores the boy. He will be very well looked after.”

Her heart began to pound. “Excuse me, but we have discussed this, Richard. You cannot have forgotten so soon.” She saw no enlightenment dawn on his features, no hint of understanding, his face unyielding. She grabbed his arm when he dismissively turned away. “Richard, stop and remember, please. I told you that my son would come first, always. I will be returning with Harry. My place is with my little boy until this problem is settled. Oh, please do not look at me so indignantly. Just send me a note with Georgiana, or it will have to wait. In the future, when her anger cools, we can again arrange to meet somewhere. Darcy will be much more helpful to you with the solicitor than I could ever hope to be.” The room was twirling about her, and she pressed her eyes closed. Perhaps this was only another nightmare, and she would wake up soon to snuggle back into her husband’s embrace.

He pulled from her grasp and began to pace.

“Richard, I insist upon knowing…!”

“Stay out of this, Catherine! This does not concern you.” He stormed back to Amanda’s side. “I am afraid I did not make myself clear to you before. Our circumstances have obviously changed. Your return to Penwood is not in the best interest of our situation, Amanda, not in the best interest of our family. No, madam, not by half. Your place is with me as my wife, and you will not be leaving, I can assure you of that. Not today nor on any day in the future.” His voice sounded unyielding, his appearance more distant than ever before; the look of disdain in his eyes alarming. The fact was that he hated himself at that moment, hated his betrayal of her trust in him, but he appeared unwilling or unable to stop himself. He could not lose her now, or ever. He would die first. She turned her back on him and tried to walk away. He grabbed her arm. “You belong to me, Amanda. I own you.”

Amanda stared up into a stranger’s face, her nightmare coming to life. “ Own me? What are you saying?” she whispered. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” Her voice shook. “Richard, we discussed this before we were married. My place is with Harry; he is just a child. My place is with my son.” Her first bout of daily morning sickness picked this moment to hit with a vengeance, and she tried to fight back her growing nausea. For a few horrible moments, she feared she would cast up her prior evening’s dinner directly into his face.

“Ridiculous, am I?” he roared, mistaking her discomfort for disgust. “Listen to me, woman! You are my wife! You carry my unborn child! No, madam, you can put all thoughts of leaving from your mind. If I have to lock you in your room, you will remain with me!” He reached for her.

“No!” Stepping back, she screamed, “Do not do this, please!”

Darcy went again to his cousin’s side, trying to pull him back. “Richard, stop.” Fitzwilliam shrugged him off then appeared to calm for a moment.

Suddenly grabbing a porcelain vase, Fitzwilliam violently smashed it against the wall. “So be it, Amanda, so be it. But the child in your belly is mine, and by God, I swear it will never be raised by you!”

She slapped him then with all her strength, stopped by him as she tried for another. In the stunned silence that followed, Harry’s wails of terror could be heard coming from the top of the staircase where he stood naked, water dripping from his shaking body. He had heard his mother’s screams and immediately darted from his bath, terrified for her. Quickly reaching him, the nursemaid lifted him into her arms and ran with him back to the safety of his room.

“ Enough! ” yelled Catherine, slamming her cane onto the floor. The shocked room became suddenly quiet. “Stop this instant! You are saying things in anger, dangerous, hurtful things, words that can never be taken back nor forgotten!”

Darcy rushed forward to grab onto Fitzwilliam’s arm as his cousin and Amanda stood toe-to-toe, glaring hatefully at each other. Fitzwilliam violently pulled his arm away and stormed from the house, Darcy following in his wake.

“What a bloody mess,” Catherine murmured after a few moments.

Chapter 12

Lady Catherine Julietta Fitzwilliam de Bourgh, countess, socialite, wife, mother, sister, and aunt, sat alone with the sobbing American girl, reflecting on her own long and full life. A woman of experience, age, and status, she had lived through nearly everything the world could throw at her. Little had surprised her through the years.

Oh, there had been the premature birth of her daughter, Anne, and then her daughter’s subsequent lifelong illness.