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

“No, no, no, my dear friend, you are not approaching this the right way. It is not you she is rejecting, although now that I know you better, it would be the path I would recommend.” Fitzwilliam grunted his protest. “No, no, she is restricted by the custody issue of her child, as I have explained to you at least three times by now.” Anthony stubbed out his cheroot and lit another. “Hearing is the second thing lost to old age, or so I am told,” he mumbled under his breath. Fitzwilliam scowled.

“Shall I tell you how I met her?”

“I really wish you would not.”

“Very well, then, I shall. I met her almost directly after her marriage to Augustus…”

“It’s very late. Will this take long?”

“Yes, it will. Be quiet, and maybe you will understand better. Open up that bottle of red substance, whatever it is, and listen. Now you will learn all.”

***

“I knew who Amanda was before even meeting her. As you might suspect, a part of my social life is centered among a rather select and discreet circle of the aristocracy.” Anthony held out his glass for Fitzwilliam to refill. “Amanda’s husband, Augustus, was a well-known, if not particularly well-regarded, figure at many of our social gatherings.”

The room became quiet as a tomb as Anthony allowed that particular revelation to settle. Fitzwilliam’s raised eyebrows were the only indication of his shock. Anthony nodded. “And, Richard, that is something which she must never know.

“He had been involved with another for many years, a devoted couple, as if married in every sense of the word; however, there could obviously never be an heir from their union. It was the incessant harassment from his mother that sent him to America in search of a wife, both mother and son feeling it too dangerous to choose from among the upper classes here and thereby risking exposure. Amanda’s father was physician to one of Penrod’s American relatives, and she would oftentimes accompany him. Augustus requested an introduction, courted her, easily impressing her with his title and manners. She was so very young, unsophisticated by ton standards, but all he really required from her was an heir. In his defense, I believe he did care for Amanda at first, but not in the way she deserved, more like one would love an adorable child or pet. Do not become offended at what I am saying, Colonel, please.” Richard’s eyes had narrowed dangerously. “He also quickly became embarrassed by her.

“I personally grew to know her later, when she came to worship at St. James Chapel on Spanish Place. There are so few places here where Catholics are allowed to worship that we all eventually become acquainted with each other, no matter what status or rank. My own ancestors headed the Spanish Court that founded this same chapel centuries ago, and now I sit beside poor Irish potato farmers and displaced French counts. It is all very odd, but what can one do?

“I found I liked her very much. She was exceedingly spirited, enormously pretty, and quite tenderhearted. We became very close friends, the best of friends. She began to volunteer at the hospital, confiding in me a great deal. She realized she had married in haste without knowing her husband’s true character, said he had grown cold and unfeeling. I knew better than she that her marriage was doomed to failure. When she did begin increasing, it was a huge relief to them both. They could now go their separate ways. In the end, sadly, Augustus turned his back on her and the child, hating them both for the rift that had developed between him and Andre. I am afraid he was very vindictive and harsh.”

Fitzwilliam rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “It makes me heartsore to think she has been so mistreated. I am grateful to you, Anthony, for being a friend to her all these years.”

Anthony shrugged. “I, too, love Amanda, Colonel. She was there for me when no one else came forward. Four years ago, someone I cared for deeply was killed in Portugal. He was a courier for Wellington when he was captured and… tortured. Och! Terrible business—war. It destroys so many more lives than is obvious.” Anthony cleared his throat and continued. “I received a letter telling me that Mario had been killed, telling me how bravely he died. He is… he was, my life.” Tears began to slide down his cheeks, tears which he quickly swiped away.

“I locked myself in this room and cried for hours, the poor servants terrified I would do something rash. My butler, Bascome, sent word to Amanda, and she immediately came.