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

“Warm enough?” Fitzwilliam scowled. “Are you mad, Catherine? It must be nearly eighty-five degrees up there, at least as hot as Spain in July. It’s late September, you know, not early January.”

“Well, you may be accustomed to sleeping on the ground, exposed to heaven knows what with cloven-hoofed animals and ensigns milling about, Hottentots running naked here and there. But gently bred ladies, especially those who are breeding, need warmth and comfort.”

Fitzwilliam bowed. “And, evidently, parboiling.”

Lady Catherine’s foot began tapping in aggravation. “Richard…”

“Very well, I stand corrected, once again, dear Aunt Catherine. If Elizabeth, Anne, and Georgiana are comfortable, the Hottentots and I can just open a window.”

“Well, no need to drag foreigners through the house.” Nodding majestically to her guests, Catherine turned toward Lizzy’s father. “Mr. Bennet?” She smiled warmly, and her eyes twinkled. My goodness, but he is quite a handsome man. “Would you be so kind as to escort me in to dinner?” Quite handsome.

“I would be most honored, your ladyship.” Catherine placed her hand upon Mr. Bennet’s arm while Fitzwilliam escorted Anne and Darcy escorted his wife and sister into dinner.

All at once, the doors to the dining room were flung open to reveal a magnificently decorated table in the finest-looking room Lizzy had ever seen. There were huge murals painted on the walls and ceiling, and tapestries that rivaled any museum’s. Vases of immense floral bouquets graced the halls and table. Larger-than-life statues in cut stone stood in a huge circle that surrounded the dining area. Massive crystal chandeliers glittered above, being magnified by huge gilt-edged mirrors. It was breathtaking.

***

“Darcy, you won’t believe who’s still in service here. Old Margaret MacLeod. Can you believe it? I’ve had my eye on that bit of fluff since she was a vixen of seventy-two.” Each heavily ornate chair had its own footman who hurried forward to assist with seating.

Everyone laughed, except for Lady Catherine, whose eyes narrowed at him. “Richard! I really cannot condone this manner of discourse. Old Margaret has been with me practically from my conception, even before, if my memory serves. Please show her some respect.” Lady Catherine took her place at the head of the table, motioning to the others to be seated.

“We often speak of you, you know,” Catherine continued, nodding for the wine to be poured. “Yes. When I assure her you will probably one day be hanged, well, it just seems to cheer her so.”

It was a pleasant surprise to Mr. Bennet, the atmosphere in the dining room so informal and lighthearted, everyone laughing and talking at once. It wasn’t at all what he had expected. A rather unusual family, this, not the stuffy aristocracy he had vaguely remembered from his youth and had been dreading. Not in the least.

He looked first at Fitzwilliam, whose head had shot back with laughter at his aunt’s remark. Mr. Bennet liked Fitzwilliam immensely, admiring his disarmingly easy manner and gentle wit.

He cast his gaze at his son-in-law, who had become a constant source of friendship and strength to him. It was evident now that the proud, arrogant man Mr. Bennet had feared would dominate his beloved daughter had never really existed at all. In reality, Darcy was a well-read, educated gentleman, and more importantly, someone who adored Lizzy, providing her with a happy, secure home.

He looked across at Darcy’s sister, Georgiana, normally shy and modest away from her brother’s side. She was relaxed and laughing heartily here, a reclusive beauty emerging in their midst.

Finally, he looked to his side at his beloved Lizzy, happier than he had ever seen her. What a shame her mother could not be here with us, to see that our daughter is so blessed. He felt suddenly overcome with the grief of his recent loss.

“Mr. Bennet,” called Aunt Catherine. “No introspection is allowed at table this visit. There will be no serious thought tonight in deference to the youngsters with whom we find ourselves. We would not want to call attention to their intellectual inferiority in any way. We are family and will enjoy the time we have together, for too quickly it can be taken from us.” Aunt Catherine looked meaningfully at him. She understood the devastation in losing a spouse, no matter how tenuous or difficult the relationship. It was half of your life that would never return.

“My very thoughts, Lady Catherine,” replied Mr. Bennet after a moment’s pause.

“Tell me, Mr. Bennet, how can we amuse you during your visit? Do you hunt?” Lady Catherine was spooning her turtle soup, blowing delicately to cool it.

“No, Lady Catherine, I am afraid I do not,” Mr. Bennet replied, also sampling his soup. “I am certain an animal would sooner die of laughter than gunshot wound if I even made the attempt.”