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

His fists balled at his waist. “Amanda, this is beyond enough! I am not going to have you as a mistress, so just put that from your mind. I do not want a mistress! I had a mistress. Actually, I have had several mistresses. I allow myself exactly one mistress per year. Unfortunately, at the present time, I have used up my allotment until the year 1846. And because I have never fully embraced, nor understood, the concept of celibacy, you can understand that it is imperative that I take a wife.” As he spoke, he had gradually backed her into a corner and now towered over her, continuing his furious reply. “ I want a wife and family. I desire that wife to be you, and your son to be my family.”

Amanda was humiliated beyond belief at his refusal, even insulted. Her eyes darted back and forth while her brain tried desperately to catch up. “But I was led to believe all aristocratic Englishmen want a widow to bed so you did not need to marry. Don’t you know this, you ill-tempered person?” She shoved his shoulder in her anger. “Oooh, you aggravating man! I cannot believe how pigheaded you are, and here I was expecting you to be happy! I was expecting you to be thrilled! You are spoiling everything!”

Fitzwilliam coming to court her at Penwood was unthinkable. It terrified her. Her mother-in-law would throw her out into the street and bar the door. There was slim chance of a secret liaison succeeding, let alone a marriage! He must be mad, she thought. Marriage?! A marriage would have to be grabbed in snatches. He would have to accept second place to her son. How soon would it be before he grew to hate her, grew tired of the lies, and asserted his lawful rights over her as his possession?

No, she would have to remain single and in control of her own life. But she wanted him so frantically. She loved him so very deeply.

She just wanted to kill him.

“Please control your temper, madam. Remember, we are in a church.” Fitzwilliam dragged her by the wrist to a more isolated area of the back of the church. When they had at last reached a secluded alcove, he paced back and forth in frustration, raking his hand through his already tousled hair.

“This must be some new ring of hell of which I was unaware,” he muttered, his tone gruff with anger.

In response to this, her arms crossed before her, and her foot rapidly tapped.

“Now, I take it that you doubt the possibility that we can adapt to a marriage that would accommodate your temporary problem with your mother-in-law’s custody of your child.”

He saw the hesitancy in her eyes as they quickly searched his. This is splendid, her heart began to soar. Perhaps he does understand. That is precisely the problem in a nutshell. “Well, yes. I am afraid that marriage is just not possible for me at this time.”

Grunting, he shook his head. For heaven’s sake, he fumed, he could not, in all good conscience, allow her to embark on a relationship with him that would harm her in any way. Her culture was not like his culture, and he realized what she did not, that her preferred course would only lead to tremendous emotional upheaval and guilt for her. He would protect her, even from herself. He loved her beyond all reason, beyond himself.

He just wanted to kill her.

Amanda had spotted the old priest walking toward them and sucked in her breath. She leaned toward Fitzwilliam. “You have possibly forty seconds left to decide. Oh, merciful St. Jude, Father Riley is scowling and is heading toward us. It is mistress or nothing, Colonel. Where do we meet and when?” Amanda’s heart stopped. She waited.

Fitzwilliam could hear the voice of the old priest getting nearer and nearer as he greeted the few others that had remained after mass.

“Ye gods! Twenty seconds,” she whispered hysterically.

“All right, all right! I cannot believe you are forcing me to do this!” All these months he had been proudly mending his ways, removing ties to the darker sides of his life, and now desired only to take his place as a respectable member of society and set up his nursery with the woman he loved. He was livid. “What days do you attend the hospital?”

“Tuesdays or Thursdays usually, occasionally both.”

“Bloody hell! All right, madam, all right. Thursday morning I will send my batman, O’Malley, to meet you at the hospital. Just so that we are clear, I believe you to be seriously deranged. I am agreeing to this fiasco on one condition alone, and that is that we are meeting to discuss our situation! I am in no way sanctioning any sort of liaison.”

“Amanda, will you introduce me to this great, huge, hulking English soldier who is inhaling all the breathable air from my church?” Father Riley had arrived.

Chapter 15