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

Darcy tried not to laugh but had little success. “If I remember correctly, you were besotted with her once yourself.” He leaned back in his chair, smirking broadly.

“Incorrect yet again. An unbroken streak, I might add. Now, I may have been bemused by her and bewitched by her, even beguiled, but I was never besotted. That, my friend, I left entirely to you.” While Fitzwilliam sipped his coffee, he regarded his cousin with warm affection. “I will, however, admit to a bit of envy for your happiness, would even consider marriage for myself one day… if I could meet a woman of character, integrity, compassion, intelligence, gentleness…”

Darcy regarded Fitzwilliam as if he had just grown another head. “Who are you, and what have you done with my cousin?”

“…with a face like a goddess and a body meant solely for sin…”

“Ah! And the world returns to its revolutions; all is right again with the universe.”

“Getting back to Catherine,” Fitzwilliam continued, never missing a beat, “I have thought a great deal about this—now don’t go giving me that haughty Uncle George expression. I firmly believe that Elizabeth is the one person in this pathetic little family circle of ours not needing protection from Aunt Catherine. I seem to remember your teeny wife having the backbone of a Viking. I have every faith that she is more than able to hold her own with the Marble Countess.”

When Darcy began to protest, Fitzwilliam put up his hand to stop him. “No, Darcy, I think it was your own pride that was offended by Catherine’s highhanded behavior more than anything she may have said to Elizabeth. Come, Cousin!” he whined pathetically. “To hell with Aunt Catherine—have pity on me! You will have to let this thing go eventually. Remember, ‘Family is Everything.’” Fitzwilliam raised his hand in salute to their aunt’s favorite quote.

“You’re probably right. I can’t judge myself anymore, it seems. I only know that she said some very mean things to Lizzy about her family—yes, I realize I’d said the same things she did, but I recognized my deplorable behavior and apologized for it. Now Aunt Catherine will have to do the same. Let’s not discuss this anymore, please.”

“Do you have any idea how similar you two are? How similar you are to the Queen of Hubris? Arrogant and stubborn, the both of you. I myself am the most good-natured of men, and yet I remain ruggedly handsome and charismatic. I truly believe it impossible that I could be related to either one of you. I must have been dropped at the door by some Scottish circus group.”

Chapter 3

Elizabeth walked briskly around the house, clasping her cape tightly at her neck and her hood close around her face. She reflected on what she considered her Embarrassing Predicament. Or was it? First and foremost, she was a realist and a sensible country girl. All right, she began to shiver with the cold. Just of what am I ashamed? I’m no different than any other young woman, am I?

No, Elizabeth, you are not.

We are married; we want children, do we not?

Yes, most emphatically you are and you do! Honestly, this is ridiculous. Eventually the embarrassment of marital relations will fade, if only through the sheer bliss of repetition. Finding herself vigorously nodding in agreement, she could not help a bit of giggle and blush. She then forced herself to regain her composure. And, the embarrassment may very well fade quicker if you do not make such a childish spectacle of yourself, bringing more attention to it than you already have. She felt her backbone stiffen with her resolve— or perhaps it is just freezing into place, she mused as she gazed longingly up at the massive back of the main estate house with the windows steaming from the heat within, smoke billowing from its many chimneys.

She began to walk rapidly. Besides, it is bloody cold out here, and that is surely curing me of my “flutters and spasms!” She laughed out loud with that common quote of her mother’s, causing the vaporous air of amusement to flutter about her. In fact it is curing me much quicker than delicate female modesty would care to admit. The rapid walk soon became a run. She entered the house through the closest door available, her eyes slowly adjusting to the dim light, and realized she was in the servants’ hallway.