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

She reached modestly up under her skirt, her eyes darting in embarrassment to his face, and then she rolled down her stocking. She next removed the boot and stocking of the other foot. “Ahhh!” she exclaimed happily as she wriggled her toes before the fire. “That feels absolutely wonderful, much better. Richard, do go on, please, with your speech, it was very interesting, I am sure.”

He bitterly catalogued all the attacks on his resolve unfolding before him: a fine-looking young woman with her long, wet hair flowing around her shoulders and her face glowing with youth and health, the top and bottom of her dress dampened more than enough to cling to her, her arms wrapped around slender legs, trim ankles that peeked out from her skirt and her pretty little pink toes—a sensually explosive cornucopia warming itself innocently before the fire.

“Richard! Are you all right?” She tried to run her fingers through her hair to help dry it but quickly abandoned the attempt because of the snarls. She then pushed it from her face to lean her elbows atop her knees. She demurely placed one row of toes over her others to keep them warm.

“Hmm?” His eyebrows rose with his response, his mind a hopeless mush of confusion.

“You were saying something important, were you not?”

“I was?”

“I’m almost certain you were.” She gave him a guilty smile and stood. “Oh, dear, I am not being very attentive again, am I?” Padding over to him, she rested her hands high up on his shoulders. “I am very sorry. Please forgive me for being so rude. Good heavens, barefoot like this, I feel small standing next to you.” Smiling contentedly she ran her hands across his shoulders, and then gently stroked down the front of his chest. “It’s like I am standing in a hole or something.” Her eyes drifted, just for a moment, to his mouth.

Fitzwilliam scowled. “Amanda, go and stand over there, please.” He sounded very annoyed.

“Why? What have I done?”

“Just do it, goddamn it.”

“If you insist, Colonel.” She pursed her lips and walked back to where she had been sitting near the fire. “Fine, shoot.”

“I beg your pardon?!”

“Sorry, that was an American phrase. Please proceed with what you wanted to say to me.”

He hesitated for a moment and then began again, after further clearing his throat and downing his fourth or fifth glass of claret. He had lost count.

“Amanda.”

“Yes, Richard. I have not left. I am listening.”

“Right. Yes… where was I?” He began to massage his temple. “Ah… It is evident that we have… strong attraction for each other… damn it to hell, what was I saying? Your fussings, all this to do, have gotten me completely off topic! Oh, yes, I remember—Amanda, I am of an age where I find I desire something more substantial in my life than a meaningless coupling with someone. Forgive my blunt speech, but I do want us to be open with each other.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as he strolled to the window, a headache threatening, then rubbed at his chest, feeling as if a ravenous wolf was within clawing to be released. It had been those little pink toes, and he knew it. For no apparent reason, those stupid pink toes had captured his imagination and were now driving him wild.

“Ahem. Ahem.” He hesitated for a moment to stare outside. “After years of professing the complete opposite, I find that, since meeting you, I truly do desire a home life and a family. I want to share my thoughts with someone, share my dreams and love and future with one person, and we seem to rub along well together, don’t we? Can you understand what I am saying?” He turned to look at her. “As I was saying, I have arranged for something to which I pray you are amenable…” He suddenly exploded. “Bloody hell! Now what are you doing?!”

She froze midway in her process of unbuttoning her bodice, a guilty blush sweeping over her face.

“Now are you going to tell me that your breasts are cold and wet and you need to relieve them of your top?” His voice sounded angrier than he had meant it to be, while his walls of protection continued crashing down around him. The wolf was breaking free.

Brown eyes looked down in shame, and tears began to well. Her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “Please do not yell at me, Richard. I cannot help it if my dress is wet, and I’m cold.”

“I don’t mean to yell. It’s just that I am trying to bare my soul to you here, and you cannot seem to retain possession of your clothes. Now please get yourself dressed again. We are not staying. If you would only let me explain to you my overall strategy…”

He watched in horror as her face crumpled into a blubbery mass of tears. “I am angering you, and you are sending me away.” She stomped her bare foot in self-disgust. Throwing back her head, she began to wail and sob with her frustration and anger and disappointment. “Oh, I am such a fool! I wanted to look beautiful! Instead, I look like a sodden pile of rags. But please, Richard, don’t force me to leave here. Don’t give up on us.”