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

He squinted through the sleet to check for carriages prior to his crossing, wondering if the adoring masses would be as impressed were it known that a moment of abysmally poor judgment had him fighting alongside his men that fateful day, that a military blunder on his own part had caused his beloved horse to be shot out from under him. Stupidly caught by a sudden French cavalry charge, he was a very high-ranking officer trapped in the wrong place at the wrong time, then tossed into the bloodlust of battle. It was the reason officers stayed remote, far back from the fighting, a dictum he had failed to follow. “Kill the head and the body will die,” common knowledge in warfare. It was his misjudgment to have lingered so long near the front, and his lovely Domina was brought down, pinning him beneath her and crushing his leg.

“Hold square! Hold square!” He roared the command to his men as he lay injured on the open field before them. His officers defied that order, a first for them, and had run out to drag him back within their square to safety, completely ignoring his threats of courts martial. He never did follow through on those threats, musing that they had all fought to save each other that day, not for patriotism. Over and over he fired the rifle that had been unceremoniously thrust into his hand, a rifle grabbed from a dead soldier, eventually ending up slashing and butchering blindly with its bayonet. The French soldiers kept coming for him, and too many of his men, his band of brothers, thieves, and drunks as they were, had been injured or killed trying to defend him. If I told the masses that I had to piss into the barrel of the rifle in order to clean it, would they still be so enthralled with the story? Oh yes, Fitzwilliam, you’re a regular Lord Nelson.

He waved in his good-natured manner to another well-wisher then hurriedly turned a corner, momentarily relaxing his shoulders a bit, protected from the storm by a large building. Now that there was relative peace in Europe and a new world order on the horizon, he would need to decide what to do with the rest of his life—whether to stay in the army or resign his commission, work for Wellington at the Board of Ordnance. It was a hard decision either way.

Staying with the status quo would mean continuing in a peacetime army and a lifestyle within which he no longer felt comfortable, a lifestyle of loose women, drinking and carousing, and avoiding the responsibilities of adult life. He paused in his steps for a moment, forgetting just why any of that was so bad, and then continued on, laughing softly.

Then again… he could follow his mentor, work on the Board… well, that would necessitate embroiling himself in political infighting and backstabbing. Rather like battling the Frogs but with better meals and no honor. And he knew Wellington. Wellington was ambitious, ruthless really, and would not stop until he was made prime minister. The man was obsessively victory driven. It was the main thing he admired in his friend and a character trait they shared in common.

Then again… he could return home and fight twenty-four hours a day with his wretched older brother, Regis.

Any of the choices before him made him want to gag or get good and drunk.

***

Another shout out came from a group of young Corinthians racing by in their phaetons. “Whoo! Hoo! Well done, Colonel!” “Capital fellow!” “Come have a drink with us!!” He smiled vaguely then winced as one phaeton slid sideways on the ice, almost toppling itself and nearly injuring the precious horses. Goddamn stupid idiots, he thought as he smiled and waved. They righted themselves soon enough and laughed uproariously at their own daring.

The wind was kicking up more now, and it was biting cold. Bloody hell, did Darcy move his goddamn house? I don’t remember it being this far of a walk. He should not have told his batman to go home and get warm so that he could continue alone and think. Thinking is highly overrated he decided as he stomped his feet while awaiting traffic. I’m going to freeze my fucking balls off if I don’t… “Ladies…” Smiling warmly, he bowed and tipped his hat, flirting outrageously with the three giggling lovelies who slowed their pace as they walked by, whispering and staring back at him as they did. His spirits rose considerably when they spun around to follow him.

There definitely was an upside to fame.