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

After a few more minutes of Mr. Collins’s monotonous monologue, he suddenly closed his eyes and raised his hands in deep supplication to the Lord. Lizzy leaned toward Charlotte. “I also have had some very troubling dreams that have caused me to wake in the middle of the night. That tires me more than anything.” Charlotte stared deeply into her friend’s eyes, sensing a troubled spirit.

“Mr. Collins, could you and Mr. Bennet please excuse us? Forgive me, dear, but I must have a private moment with Elizabeth.” Mr. Collins looked reprovingly at his wife, unhappy with this interruption of his personal address with God, while Mr. Bennet gamely attempted to rouse himself from a trancelike stupor.

Charlotte took her baby from Lizzy, patting and kissing the child’s head as it nestled happily into her shoulder. At her husband’s continued silent reproof, she pronounced the sentence that no man on earth can withstand. “I am truly sorry, dear,” she whispered, “but it is regarding female trouble.” Mr. Collins’s face drained of all color. “Female trouble,” she mouthed once again, nodding.

With that, both Mr. Collins and Mr. Bennet quickly waved them off, avoiding at all costs any possibility of eye contact.

Alone outside in the sunshine and peace of her garden, Charlotte laughed softly. “I tell you, Lizzy, that is the most useful phrase I have learned as a married woman. No man seems to want to know about female trouble.”

Laughing, Lizzy made her way slowly to a secluded bench.

“Now, what is this about bad dreams? I find that most interesting. I know I had many dreadful nights when I was carrying Everett.”

Lizzy hesitated at first but then confided to her friend about her concerns with Caroline Bingley and Darcy, hinting broadly at their relationship years ago. She said she sometimes found herself dreaming of them together, or of her strangling and disemboweling the meddlesome redheaded witch, slicing open her throat or gouging out her eyes. Charlotte’s eyes opened wider and wider with each description of mayhem.

“Well, that is rather serious, I suppose. Oh, but, Lizzy, you cannot really believe that Darcy would betray you. He is so much in love with you that he would never consider hurting you, and it is not in his character to deceive.”

Lizzy smiled as she leaned her head back, letting the sunshine wash over her for a moment. “Oh, be honest, Charlotte. Don’t you think it is within everyone’s character at some point to deceive? Whether it be for good intentions or bad is the telling point, but I do agree that he would never deliberately hurt me or disgrace his family.”

Charlotte sensed, however, that the idea of Caroline and Darcy still bothered Lizzy. “Didn’t Jane say that Caroline was involved with someone? I had the impression she was almost engaged.”

Lizzy snorted. “‘Almost’ is never as good as ‘is’ in my estimation. Also, ‘engaged’ is not nearly so fine as ‘married.’” Elizabeth became more and more animated as she continued. “And ‘married and settled on another continent’ is best of all. Besides, Caroline’s been ‘almost’ engaged more times than any other woman I know.”

***

By midafternoon, Darcy and Fitzwilliam were already waiting in the reception room for Lizzy and her father to return.

“Compose yourself, brat. Did you really believe you could just command her to stay home and she would?”

Darcy looked bewildered, affronted. “Yes, of course I did.”

“Good God.” Fitzwilliam shook his head. “Well, it’s your head, Darcy. It was splendid knowing you.” Hearing Elizabeth and her father in the hallway, he left quickly.

“Hello, dearest. Was that Richard rushing off? How odd. Oh, we had such a wonderful visit with Charlotte, and her baby, Everett, is glorious. Such a beautiful child emerging through the services of such a father—who could have imagined…?” Lizzy’s voice trailed off when she saw the look in Darcy’s eyes.

“Could you excuse us, please, Mr. Bennet? I wish to speak privately with my wife.” Sensing trouble, his father-in-law was already making a hasty retreat.

Lizzy’s eyes were huge as saucers and innocent as a newborn. “Whatever is the matter, William?”

“You know perfectly well what the matter is, Mrs. Darcy.”

The certainty of this remark slowed her in her short waddle over to a seat. “No, I definitely do not, Mr. Darcy, else I would not have asked.” Now riled by his rudeness, she plopped down primly, raised her chin to stare boldly up at her pacing husband, and impolitely kicked one after the other of her shoes to the side.

For a moment he just glared at her then stooped to pick each up. “I believe I told you, madam, to stay in bed and rest.” He pointed directly at her with one of her shoes. “Your legs were very swollen and sore last evening. Am I mistaken in this?”

“Evidently, you are unaware that my legs and feet are much better this morning.” Pulling up her skirt, she stuck her feet straight out for his perusal. Lizzy congratulated herself on the graciousness of her reply.