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

“Whatever Darcy may say to you now, it was Catherine who consoled him, took him into her home and comforted him when his mother died—after all, she shared his tremendous grief at Aunt Anne’s passing. Darcy remained at Rosings for several months while his father dealt with his overwhelming grief and his new baby daughter. Poor Darcy refused to be in the same room with Georgiana at first. It was Catherine who reassured him and told him that his mother had given her life for the babe, making Georgiana the most precious thing in the world. Obviously, Darcy, being the excellent man he is, soon cast himself as his sister’s protector and loved her unquestioningly, above everything else.”

Elizabeth rose to pace the garden. “My goodness, Fitzwilliam, she could have been his mother if she hadn’t chosen title over love”

Fitzwilliam nodded. “Please don’t let Darcy know that I have told you all this; however, I wanted you to be aware that there is a special history between the two of them, and both are hurting. If something should happen to Aunt Catherine, it will dearly affect Darcy.”

***

It was later, alone with her thoughts, that Elizabeth realized the full impact of what she had learned. No wonder William had been so unnerved by the news of Lady Catherine’s illness. She immediately felt she should do something or say something to him, but Fitzwilliam had sworn her to secrecy. She vowed to herself that she would think of something, some opportunity of repairing the rift between the two.

Chapter 6

It was soon after Fitzwilliam’s departure, only a few days, while preparing for bed that Elizabeth mused again about Catherine—one of the few people who had ever taken a great dislike to her. It was human nature to want to be thought well of, and the notion that someone harbored such a disgust of her was unsettling. She could not think of another soul who had turned against her in that way, looking upon her with jealousy and hatred in their heart.

But wait. She was seated before her mirror, hairbrush in use. Wasn’t there was another person who had taken an instant aversion to me, and on as grand a scale as Catherine? The name itself sent shivers of resentment down Elizabeth’s spine.

Caroline Bingley.

Her hairbrush paused for just a moment. I haven’t thought of that harridan in months. She smiled to herself, embarrassed by the sheer depth of her own dislike. Caroline Bingley had been vicious and cruel when they first met, deliberately hurting not only Elizabeth but also inadvertently hurting the sweet Georgiana. Since her sister Jane’s marriage to Caroline’s brother, Charles, an uncertain truce had been called.

Jane had written her of Caroline’s newest affaire de coeur, a titled gentleman once again, a viscount and friend of both Charles’s and their sister, Mrs. Hurst. It was hoped by all that this time, Caroline had finally found happiness. Caroline Bingley and Lady Catherine. Two women she had known in her life who absolutely detested her. She absentmindedly braided her hair as she pondered.

Why? What could I have possibly done to either that they hate me so? The only common thread Elizabeth could imagine was Darcy. Yes, it had to be Darcy. Unthinkingly, she undid her braid once again, ran her fingers through the long tresses to unwind them, and began to brush. What was the main reason that caused women to hate other women?

Jealousy.

Elizabeth stopped her hairbrush in midstroke. They both loved Darcy. In different ways, of course, but the intensity of their love for Darcy had turned them both against the one person whom they perceived had taken him from them. Jealousy.