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

Fitzwilliam shot him a daggered look. “It was not ten!” he declared, incensed. As they all waited in silent suspense for his further explanation, he exhaled a disgruntled breath. “All right, all right. There were only eight of them, and it was not as unseemly as you imply, brat!” He squirmed at the laughter now incapacitating them all and looked away, fighting his own laughter. In point of fact, it had been worse than unseemly, it had been downright debauched. The women actually were common Portuguese whores disguised as French prisoners, had been paid by a pool of money collected in a hat passed by him and his fellow drunken officers (eager to take advantage of the women’s generous holiday rates) and then, to the accompaniment of their giggles, the women had been used as dinner plates. He vaguely remembered a drunken moment in which he was eating fried eggs and kippers right from within a naked woman’s…

“He’s blushing!” Elizabeth was delighted. “Oh my goodness, Richard, please enlighten us!”

Knowing what had happened, Darcy was in heaven. “Oh yes, Richard,” he mimicked Elizabeth’s high-voiced excitement. “Please enlighten us.”

“This is not now, nor ever could be, dinner conversation!” He began to bluster with his embarrassment. “You are making me out to be some sort of deviant, and that could not be further from the truth! We lived in ungodly conditions and suffered horrible deprivations…”

“That must have been those times when the Duchess of Hanover was not renting a nearby villa in some quaint Spanish town. I heard you saw quite a bit of her…” Catherine’s eyes were like slits. “…and still do.”

Georgiana wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. She’s such a peahen.”

Darcy was laughing, his eyes dancing with delight. “Lord save me, I had not heard of this. And where was the duke during these encounters?”

Elizabeth nearly felt sorry for her cousin-in-law, but not nearly enough. She turned to Georgiana instead for the gossip. “Is she the one with the really large”—she hesitated, raising her hands briefly before her chest—“inheritance?”

Mr. Bennet stared in wonder. They may have been the bluest of the blue bloods, among the most aristocratic of aristocratic families, but a true family they were, with all the fights, teasing, suspicion, and retribution inherent in the word. It was definitely a family that was insane, but whose family was not?!

Georgiana, joining in the raucous laughter surrounding her, suddenly became uneasy when she realized her aunt was intently watching her. Catherine’s concerns often shifted quickly and without warning.

“Georgiana!”

“Yes, Aunt Catherine.” Georgiana jumped to attention, turning toward her imposing aunt.

“Should you not have made your presentation by now?”

“Yes, Aunt Catherine, however…”

“You must be nearly thirty-seven, I should think. Never tell me you have not been brought out yet.”

Darcy came to her rescue. “Aunt Catherine, Georgiana is but nineteen. We decided to wait an extra year because of Elizabeth’s mother’s passing and the baby being due .”

“Also, I am a bit shy and truly didn’t feel really ready before this year.” She gulped and stared nervously at her aunt. “I am not overly fond of crowds, you see.” Huge understatement, that.

Darcy and Georgiana’s eyes met. They had discussed this moment, but her knees still wobbled. He smiled his encouragement and nodded. The time had finally come, and there was no avoiding the unavoidable. “Aunt Catherine.” Her voice crackled a little, and she began to blush. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes before proceeding in her sweetest voice. “Dearest Aunt Catherine, would you be so kind as to sponsor me?” Georgiana, having finally blurted out her request, glanced momentarily to Darcy for reassurance. The barn door had officially been thrown open.

Catherine looked up, stunned that it was even a question. “Why, yes, yes. Of course.” She blustered and rocked back and forth in her chair. “Who else in this room could possibly qualify as your sponsor?” Although she tried to look nonchalant, a small tear ran down her cheek.

Catherine had only two unfulfilled dreams in her life. One was to plan the grandest society wedding ever for her daughter and nephew at St. George’s Cathedral. The likelihood that her daughter, Anne, would marry, now that Darcy was taken, was remote at best. She had swallowed that bitter pill and learned to live with it.

Her other dream was to present her daughter at court and preside over her coming-out. Anne had been too sickly all her life for either. Over the years, Catherine watched as her friends, one by one, had presented their daughters and then their granddaughters.

Finally, one of her dreams would be coming true.