In the Arms of Mr. Darcy

  Richard scowled. “Miss Kitty?”

  She nodded, it now her turn to launch into another tale of romantic woes. Richard rejoined her on the settee, listening to the story with genuine sadness as he truly cared for Lizzy’s sister. Yet, as reprehensible as it was to admit, there was an odd sort of comfort in knowing that others besides himself suffered such heartaches. Additionally, the reminder of Darcy’s tangled web on the road to marital happiness was a mild consolation. The chances of his romance turning out as Darcy’s did seemed nil; but the hope, however faint, was in the knowledge that there may be peace found after the turmoil.

  The following weeks passed in slowness both agonizing with the persistent ache that lived in his heart while also involving moments of tranquility surprising in their intensity.

  A leave from his Regiment was granted, only General Tammon guessing that the “family crisis” was more of a personal nature. Richard had fled London with no clear purpose other than to escape the painful memories that seemed to be everywhere he looked and to talk to Darcy. All of their lives, although Darcy tended to be far more secretive than Richard, they had understood each other and innately knew how to cheer each other up.

  Affairs of the heart, l’amour, were different however.

  The Fitzwilliam family was not raised with the staunch religious ethics and morals of the Darcys. That is not to say they did not revere the Church and the tenets taught, but merely held a slightly more liberal interpretation. Richard did not suffer from the same reluctance to engage in or even discuss matters relating to sex as Darcy did. Although far from promiscuous in his romantic encounters over the years, never taking a mistress nor able to claim a huge number of lovers, Richard was quite certain his experience vastly trumped Darcy’s prior to marriage. Since it was the one topic they had never talked about, he could not be sure, but if a wager was involved, his bet was that Darcy had been innocent upon his marriage, as unlikely as that may have seemed to most.

  So ingrained and natural was this taboo subject that Richard had been only mildly hurt when Darcy retreated and suffered in silent solitude after the rejection by Elizabeth Bennet. It was his mother who put the pieces of that puzzle together, Richard feeling like an absolute imbecile in not figuring it out himself; but Darcy going crazy over a woman had simply not been a concept that ever occurred to him. It was so utterly out of character. Since the resolution of that dilemma and Darcy’s happiness in marriage, his cousin had loosened up a bit in expressing emotions and discussing romantic topics. Never, of course, would Darcy follow the often ribald characteristics of some who delighted in boasting about their bedroom antics and prowess, but at least the subject could be broached, as evidenced by his openness in talking about Lady Fotherby. The one area Richard was certain they would agree upon was the sanctity of the marriage state itself and the belief in faithfulness for life; thus, Richard’s driving need to seek out his cousin and dearest friend’s counsel and comfort. He instinctively knew that Darcy would understand his pain.

  So he waited and took whatever comfort and weak joy he could find in the interim.

  George Darcy was around from time to time as his duties allowed. Richard divulged bits of the sordid story to the older gentleman, who offered empathetic understanding and wisdom interwoven with jovial amusements to distract. He was very busy, however, between his position at the Matlock hospital and the frequent calls to ill folks in the nearby communities. The fame of Dr. Darcy had spread far and wide. He was unafraid and preferred to get his hands dirty in a way that few physicians of the day would. There was nothing he was hesitant to do, nor were there many ailments or injuries he did not know how to treat. Additionally, when faced with a quandary he was relentless and displayed vigor at odds with his age. He welcomed being summoned at all hours of the day or night, the Pemberley footmen who guarded the house during the sleeping hours working harder than they ever had in answering the bell at the side door and climbing the stairs to waken the doctor. Furthermore, it became necessary to keep a stableboy handy to saddle Dr. Darcy’s horse rapidly. A set of rooms in one of the outer buildings had been renovated and given to him as a medical office with constant influxes of bizarre-looking, gleaming devices being delivered along with boxes and boxes of diverse supplies. Darcy encouraged all of it, thrilled beyond measure to have his uncle near and proud of the reputation he earned.

  What this meant for Richard was that George was largely away. Therefore, he was left to spend the interminable hours between the oblivion of sleep with Georgiana. The biggest surprise there was how altered the nature of their connection became.

  Richard had been astonished upon his Uncle James’s death to learn that he was named co-guardian to his eleven-year-old cousin. His relationship with Georgie at the time was fairly close, but between years away at Cambridge, then military training, and the preparations for his first campaign abroad, Second Lieutenant Fitzwilliam spared little thought for his child cousin. For a number of years after James’s death, he would encounter Darcy with a combination of pleasure in seeing his serious face after their separations while also examining him closely for any signs of ill health! The idea of what he would do if Darcy died and Georgiana was his to care for was quite beyond his comprehension. Once the war ended and Richard settled with his regiment in London, the relationship with his youngest cousin improved. But how does a man of nearly thirty years truly relate to a shy girl of fifteen? However, the familial affection was strong, the Darcys and Fitzwilliams always truly caring for each other. The more time he spent in Georgiana’s company, the more comfortable she became with him and the more she displayed her soft wit, gentle intelligence, and sweet disposition. He began to love her honestly and took his guardian duties more seriously; not that there was much to do in that regard, since her brother was extremely controlling. Additionally, Darcy was as healthy as an ox, so, barring a freak accident, the chances of Colonel Fitzwilliam needing to step up were slim.

  Time passed, but in much the same way as Darcy, Richard never really saw Georgiana as anything other than his baby cousin, his little mouse. The horrid manipulation by Wickham had incited him to an anger and urge for violent revenge unlike anything he had experienced even in wartime; but even then, despite recognizing that she could easily have been violated by the evil man, his mind had not taken the leap into considering her a woman capable of romantic feelings and mature intimate relations. Even this past season as he played chaperone at Almack’s and other events a number of times, he was more attuned to the ringing command of Darcy to watch her or die, and therefore kept a diligent, piercing eye on the young men revolving around her!

  As the nearly three weeks waiting for Darcy’s return to Pemberley lapsed largely in Georgiana’s company, a measured but profound shift in his thinking occurred. They took long walks in the chilly air, went for extended horseback rides, shopped together in Lambton, dined at each meal, played chess and tennis and a number of other distracting games, performed on their preferred instruments of choice with her teaching him new music, and so on. They sat for hours upon hours in the parlor or library in quiet and sometimes heated conversations as she stunned him further with her possession of a keen grasp of world events and politics, as well as being far more well-read than he was.

  The ache of his grief over Lady Fotherby was constant, but ofttimes shoved into some small recess of his being as the pleasure in Georgiana’s company grew. They laughed, debated, conversed, and many times simply sat in serene companionship.

  One pivotal night, they retired to the music room. Georgiana was playing on the pianoforte while Richard relaxed in a chair and listened. Peace swirled about him as he watched her beautiful face shine as she played and sang one of her own compositions. He offered honest, enthusiastic applause when she completed the piece.

  “Bravo, Miss Darcy. Excellently played! I pray you are not weary of me complimenting you, as I will continue to do so. Truly, your talent is too immense to be wasted by entertaining me.”

  ?
??I in no way deem entertaining you a waste of my time, Cousin. As for any great talent to boast of, I believe I am paltry in comparison to most.”

  “You do not see your true potential, Georgiana. Trust me. I have heard musical artists at some of the finest establishments in Paris who do not equal you.”

  Rather than flushing in embarrassment as he expected, her eyes grew dreamy and voice wistful. “Paris. How I would adore to travel there, or Vienna, or Rome, or anywhere to hear such music.” She sighed heavily.

  “You will in time. Perhaps Lizzy and Darcy can take you there next year since she has never been either. In fact, I make you a promise! If they do not take you, I will. We would have enormous fun together! I could use a reprieve and have not been to the continent since the war.”

  “Thank you, Richard, but I do not think that would be a good idea.”

  He was astonished. “Why ever not? I am very good company, as you know, and have been just about everywhere. We would have a marvelous time!”

  She smiled sweetly, but there was an odd glint of sadness in her eyes. “You forget, my dear cousin, that I am nineteen now. A woman. It would be inappropriate for you to escort me. The only reason that gossip is not flying even now is due to Uncle George’s presence and our relative isolation. Have you not noticed some of the pointed glances our way while strolling through Lambton? It is why I dissembled on traveling to Derby for the day. People would have us betrothed by the time we returned to Pemberley!”

  She laughed lightly, turning back to the pianoforte, but Richard was shaken. Assimilating her words and fully examining her, he stared at her as she launched into another delightful concerto. The last vestiges of regarding her as a child were eternally swept away in those moments. No longer would he ever think of her as his little cousin, and the adjustment in his consideration was both wonderful and frightening.

  It was wonderful in that he suddenly realized with a heartwarming epiphany that he relished her company. She was a person with numerous admirable traits that complimented him perfectly. After two weeks of almost constant companionship, usually alone, there was no doubt whatsoever that they got on well and shared many of the same ideals. More than once, without completely grasping it, he had recognized the domestic quality to their evenings spent in placid company and reveled in it. Frequently, he now discerned with an alarming shock, he had parted from her for the night with a sadness that had nothing to do with grief over his failed romance with Simone.

  The frightening aspect in his abrupt insight was what it potentially portended. Could she be the one he had been waiting for all along? Had these past months only been a divine preparation for the fated future that had been in front of him for years? Were his emotions toward Lady Fotherby as fickle as hers apparently were? Or, was he merely searching desperately for any happiness to ease the pain in his heart? Was the serenity and delight he now felt honest or just a temporary balm? Georgiana was undoubtedly beautiful by anyone’s standards, but was he attracted to her in the ways of a husband and lover? Could she ever see him in those roles? Was deep passion necessary and attainable between them, or were friendship and respect and devotion enough?

  And worse, what would Darcy say?

  The latter was too terrifying to even contemplate, so he left it alone for the time being. In fact, the entire concept was far too enormous to deal with in one sitting. Nonetheless, once opened, the concept could not be tossed aside. Richard Fitzwilliam had serious affairs to contemplate in the weeks ahead.

  Chapter Eighteen

  THE NATURE OF LOVE

  Well, Colonel, have you reached a decision? You know you are welcome to stay at Pemberley for as long as you wish, but it has been over a month. I would hate to see a troop of soldiers storm the Manor and clap you in chains. A court-martial may be entertaining to observe, but it would be tragic to have you locked up for the next several years. Alexander would miss you.”

  Richard merely grunted. Darcy smiled, glancing toward his pensive cousin for a moment before returning his attention to Alexander.

  They were in the cozily warm parlor on this brisk day in November. Lizzy and Georgiana were upstairs putting the final touches on new ensembles for a dinner party at the Vernors that evening while the gentlemen did nothing. Well, that was not entirely true as Darcy was happily in charge of the baby.

  He sat on the sofa across from Richard, far forward with long legs spread wide and bridging the gap between cushioned edge and table, acting as both confining barrier and firm support for the nearly one-year-old’s unsteady gait. Walking was a new and marvelous phenomenon, the toddler now preferring the glorious view of the world from above six inches, but still not too graceful with the procedure. The numerous tumbles and near misses from colliding with a sharp piece of furniture when the legs gave out or chubby upper body propelled ahead of the yet uncontrollable lower extremities in no way caused Alexander to be cautious, but gave his parents shivers of fear. So Darcy did his best to restrain his young son’s movements, especially in the cluttered lower level rooms.

  At the moment, Alexander was content with the arrangement, happily cooing and babbling as he played with the assortment of brightly colored toys strewn across the once shiny tabletop that had previously graced a gorgeous four-hundred-year-old vase from China. Darcy absently played with the springy curls and stroked the smooth skin, unconsciously prepared to respond to his son as appropriate while carrying on an adult conversation with Richard. It was natural now to slip from serious dialogue uttered with typical resonant tones to the simpler words spoken in a gentle timbre. It made Richard chuckle, but Darcy was barely aware. Nor was he cognizant of the tender expressions, silly faces, and dotty smiles that frequently lit his face when gazing upon or communicating with his firstborn. Furthermore, he only mildly winced when tiny but firm fists grabbed onto trouser cloth and snared a few leg hairs in the process. It was normal and embraced wholeheartedly.

  For several weeks now, since the Darcys’ return, the still grieving and romantically confused Colonel had watched the domestic interplay between all three Darcys with a heavy heart. There were times, God help him, when he wanted to strangle Darcy for finding such bliss and, as he interpreted it in his pain, shoving the extreme felicity into his face! Why, he would mentally rage, I was perfectly content as a free-from-all-entanglement bachelor until Darcy of all people grew all moony and sentimental! It isn’t fair!

  But the petulant child only reared his ugly head infrequently. He was mature enough to recognize that even while winning battles, dashing off to places all over the Continent, rising in his military career, basking in the glory of accolades, and jauntily extolling the virtues of an unencumbered life, he always knew that the lure of home and hearth beckoned. It appeared that domesticity was ingrained into his cells after all and he was not quite sure how pleased he was with the notion.

  He sighed, shifting his legs where they stretched on the table. “I appreciate the jest. And you are correct, of course. I cannot evade reality forever.” He toed a red and blue striped ball back toward Alexander, who instantly released a silver bell to grab onto the rolling toy as if never seen before, his squeal of glee and bouncing body indicative of his joy. Richard smiled and nodded when Alexander lifted the ball toward him with a gesture of thanks. “It is rather humbling to admit the need for refuge and solace as a child. Somewhat emasculating actually.”

  “I, of all people, cannot fault you nor tease for that. At least you have not drowned yourself in a brandy bottle, but have managed to act fairly normal. Well, as much as is possible for you, that is.”

  “What did you just say about not teasing?”

  Darcy laughed, bending for the dozenth time to retrieve a toy that tumbled over the table edge and then pausing for a brief nuzzle and kiss.

  “Seriously, Darcy, thank you for opening Pemberley to me. I know I did not precisely ask for an invitation, but just knowing that I am always welcome was an immeasurable consolation. Additionally, I cannot thank you enough fo
r keeping the festivities light while I have been here. I was not in the proper frame of mind to play the entertaining funnyman to a host of visitors.”

  “As to the latter, we keep my uncle around for that express purpose. And it was the wish of both Elizabeth and myself to have a quiet season this year, although I am still shocked that Aunt Madeline did not drag you away for a pointed discussion as she obviously knew something was up to find you here, having not even bothered to make your presence in the region known!” Richard grimaced at that error in good-son judgment. “As to the former, as you said, you are always welcome. My home is yours. Besides, Georgiana was delighted to have you as company while we were gone, and even after we came back for that matter. She seems to have become quite attached to your presence.”

  Richard glanced swiftly and fearfully to Darcy’s face, but he was engaged in a non-verbal communication with Alexander and showed no sign of alluding to anything beyond normal cousinly friendship. “Yes, well, she is a dear friend and soothed me considerably while I waited for you to quit gallivanting about the Lakes.”

  Darcy had proven true in the special type of brotherly comfort, support, and cheering that Richard had so desperately sought. Initially, Darcy had simply been shocked to the core at the result of Richard’s romance. Nearly overwhelmed with remorse at his previous good-natured chafing, he had apologized profusely for his jocosity; but the idea of Richard being unsuccessful had never occurred to him. Of course, the irony in being so confident of Richard’s triumph in light of his own fraught path to matrimony was not lost on either of them, and they did share a few laughs over it. In the end, Darcy could offer nothing in the way of a solution—not that Richard anticipated it—only able to be the proverbial shoulder to lean on.

  Richard appeared to be handling his broken heart with far better humor and control than Darcy had. Generally, this was attributed, rightfully so, to his inherent optimism and ebullience. He spoke of Lady Fotherby rarely, and only to Darcy. He refused to read any of the London newspapers that were delivered regularly, the fear of seeing her name attached to Lord Wellson’s in some Society event too great. Oddly, beyond the official announcement, Lady Fotherby was conspicuously absent. The same could not be said of the popular and exhibitionistic Marquess, who was remarkably at every party or ball or event of import, performing outrageously as usual. Only once was Lady Fotherby mentioned, and that was a saucy jibe as to how his newly betrothed must feel about her intended squiring assorted ladies of dubious character to these functions while she was in apparent seclusion at her father’s estate in Hampshire for the holiday season. It was strange.