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

Fitzwilliam harrumphed. “She was only recently coming to terms with being an earl’s wife after… how many decades has it been? Now it appears it was my fault all my old cousins died childless within a year of each other.” Richard took the glass that Darcy offered and watched eagerly as the whiskey was poured. “She hates the name, you know, says it sounds as if someone is coughing up phlegm. She cannot stop laughing whenever we are addressed.” His mood brightened considerably, relishing their rare treat. “How did you get this past the old gargoyles?” He smacked his lips at the forbidden taste.

“Really, Richard, I am the master of my home, the king of my domain.” With an indignant huff, Darcy lowered himself deeper into the chair, elegantly repositioning his cuffs and collar.

“I imagine that is why you hid the bottle as you walked by the windows.”

Darcy gazed with haughty condescension at his cousin. One eyebrow arched. “I hid the bottle for the same reason you’ve got those two pipes stashed beneath the table.” Fitzwilliam grunted happily at being reminded of their presence and reached below to bring them up.

Their doctors would be disapproving of these liberties with their health—their wives would be livid. It made it somehow all the more enjoyable.

As he lit his own pipe, Darcy became aware of the trouble his cousin was having when he noticed for the first time the glasses perched upon his nose. “Since when do you wear spectacles?” He watched as Fitzwilliam swiveled his head around like a bird eying a worm. It began to be a nearly comical attempt to bring a flame even remotely near the bowl of his pipe. Darcy leaned over to guide the light.

“Thank you, brat, I don’t.” Fitzwilliam puffed vigorously once or twice in triumph. “Wear glasses, that is. They’re not mine. Since you feel the need to snoop, these are Amanda’s. I stole them from her dresser when I rifled through it this morning.” He stifled a chuckle. Looking very proud of himself, he leaned his head back and blew the pipe smoke into the air. “Aaahhhhh,” he sighed. He was in heaven. “The woman’s blind as a bat for reading, you know.”

“Good God, why were you going through her dresser?”

“Well, nosy bits, I was looking for the tobacco pouch she stole from my dresser, of course.” He shook his head as if Darcy had mortar for brains and clucked his tongue in annoyance. “You know perfectly well she won’t allow me to have tobacco since that episode with my heart.” The spectacles were quickly slipped into his pocket. “She’ll go mad looking for these.” He beamed.

“Fitzwilliam, as wealthy as you are, you could provide your wife with more than one pair of spectacles, could you not?”

“Well, a lot you know. Amanda has at least six pairs of these things.” Fitzwilliam glared indignantly at his cousin. “And it took me a devil of a time to find and hide them all.”

Darcy shook his head sadly, “Have you no shame?”

Fitzwilliam gave this a fleeting moment of thought. “No, why do you ask?” He puffed on his pipe and grinned wickedly. “Heavens, man, how else can I obtain the vital information with which to torment my beloved if I do not go through her private things? My God, Darcy, what kind of marriage do you have?”

***

It was one month after the passing of the indomitable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, having lived to be an exquisitely lively eighty-nine years, her wits about her until nearly three weeks before the end. And it was one week until Easter. Easter for the two men had always been with Catherine and her daughter at Rosings Park for as long as they remembered. They had decided the tradition would continue on at the Darcy’s magnificent home, Pemberley.

Darcy and Fitzwilliam were now resting on its grand veranda, awaiting the arrival of their children and a large number of grandchildren, who would be joining them for the holidays.

“Elizabeth only this morning informed me all the children will be in attendance this year. Tell me it isn’t so, I beg of you.”

“Yes, Cousin, as horrible as that thought is, it is true. From what I’ve been told, all of ours will be here with assorted spouses and children, as well as your three and their families.” Fitzwilliam grinned, his pipe securely clenched in his teeth. He removed it as they clinked their glasses and downed their drinks in one swallow.

“Well, that settles it.” Darcy placed his empty glass down on the table between them. “I’ll have to sell immediately and go into hiding. God help Derbyshire.” He puffed on his pipe, unable to suppress his grin.

Glancing furtively over his shoulder to ensure they weren’t being watched by the wives, Fitzwilliam poured them both another drink. Their children, the next generation of cousins from the Darcy and Fitzwilliam families, were very close and famously rowdy when together.