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

“Oh, it was the same as my father—cough and lung inflammation, high fever. In fact, Aunt Catherine was so ill that Cousin Anne began nursing her, if you can believe that. Truth be told, I think I have never seen Catherine worse or Anne happier.”

Darcy sipped his wine, returning the glass to the table. “Elizabeth’s mother has had a similar complaint. I’m sure it will pass with the warmer weather. What do her physicians say?”

“Well, that is exactly what they are hoping, and in fact, both Father and Catherine are much improved already. If you wish, I can have Father apprise you of her condition, should it change.”

Darcy hesitated. “Perhaps…”

Elizabeth saw the reluctance in his eyes and reached over to cover his hand with hers. “Yes, and thank you, Richard. We would very much appreciate your father keeping us informed.”

Darcy’s eyes shifted to hers and then stared sadly across her shoulder to the darkness outside.

***

The following morning, Elizabeth was reading in her favorite flower garden and enjoying the budding warmth and the moist smell of spring that had infused the air. She had recently confirmed with her doctor that she was also with child, and only she and William knew of it. It was still early in her pregnancy, a sacred time for them to enjoy privately as a couple, as well as a time that was making her sick to her stomach most mornings. This morning was no exception, and her nausea had awakened her very early.

Fitzwilliam appeared, a determined look upon his face.

“Well, I’m off tomorrow, I fear. I have just received a communiqué from Wellington. He’s fed up with my lazy bones and won’t allow me to put him off any longer. It appears I am needed for meetings with the allies in the coming months, and it may be a while before I am able to get leave again.”

“We’ll be unhappy to see you depart, Richard.” She placed her hand gently on his arm. “William has so enjoyed having you here, as have Georgiana and I.” Richard smiled and kissed her hand, then kept hold of it as he settled in next to her.

“Elizabeth, please see if you can persuade Darcy to end this strife with Aunt Catherine.” She seemed surprised at the intensity of his request.

“Truthfully, Richard”—Lizzy’s free hand gripped her shawl a bit closer and she looked down—“I am ashamed to admit how hesitant I am to reinstate their relationship, even if I could. I care little what she thinks of me, but she deeply hurt my husband, and that I find very hard to understand, let alone forgive.” She squeezed Fitzwilliam’s hand and smiled kindly. “However, I am truly very sorry that she was so ill.”

Fitzwilliam turned to look unseeing at the far horizon, at a loss as to how much he should confide, not knowing how many of the family secrets Darcy had as yet revealed to her. He leaned closer, touching his shoulder to hers, bending his head to speak in confidence. “I know she hurt you both, but perhaps you don’t know their history together, hers and Darcy’s.”

Elizabeth slowly put her book aside and turned toward him. “No, he has never told me anything, but I know his feelings run deeply for her.”

Sighing, Fitzwilliam rubbed hard at the back of his neck. “Well, where to begin? Were you at all aware that Catherine and George Darcy were very near to becoming betrothed? I thought not. It’s quite true, though. They were seriously in love from what I have been told. This is all wild family gossip, you understand, unsubstantiated and strictly confidential.”

Stunned beyond belief, Elizabeth could not speak for a moment. “I had no idea! What caused him to ask for her sister Anne’s hand instead?”

“Lord Louis de Bourgh was the cause, and Aunt Catherine’s pursuit of a title. At any event, that is what my father always believed. It was Catherine who put pin to their betrothal—she ran off with Lord Louis, figuratively speaking, and married him. Darcy’s father was devastated, brooded for several years. However, he was also very young, very handsome, and very healthy. Eventually he noticed Anne Fitzwilliam, Catherine’s baby sister, a child he had teased and laughed at for years. Well, the child had grown into an even more beautiful woman than Catherine. It was a happy day for them both when he turned to her for comfort. In any event, they soon developed a true love match and married.

“However, my father always believed Uncle George never fully forgave Aunt Catherine, though to his credit, he did not attempt to keep the two sisters apart. The women were famously close, supported each other through joys and sorrows; both had suffered several miscarriages before their firstborns. My father swore Darcy’s feet never touched the ground for his first four years, between Anne and Catherine. After his mother’s death when he was twelve, he was very often with Aunt Catherine—much more than I ever was.”

Elizabeth was speechless.