Page 32 of Fitzwilliam Darcy An Honourable Man

London

The Castle Inn

Morning

Wickham was not surprised that the count now resided at an inn. The last time he had seen the man at his townhouse there were few servants in attendance, and boxes were stacked everywhere about the rooms, presumably awaiting shipment to Italy. Still, he was dumbfounded as to why the count had not kept him informed of his change of address. After all, how were they to work in partnership to reclaim the man’s errant wife if he could not be found?

For a few moments after he arrived at the townhouse in Grosvenor Square to find it abandoned and locked securely, Wickham entertained the idea that the count might have left for Pemberley on his own to seize his wife. However, as he stood peering at the unanswered door, a man had stopped to enquire if he could be of service. That gentleman turned out to be a neighbour whose servant had overhead the former resident give orders for a coachman to take him to the Castle Inn. Slightly annoyed, George made his way to the inn and now stood before the count in a very agitated state.

“Did you not think I should have been notified of your move? After all, I was the one who located your wife and devised a plan to spirit her away from Darcy’s estate!”

Count Stefano sat in the only comfortable chair in the small sitting area of his room, his feet resting upon a stool. At Wickham’s exclamation, he stood, his eyes narrowing, causing Wickham to take a step back.

“I am well aware of your contributions to my future happiness, Mr. Wickham. However, it would be wise of you to remember that you answer to me and not vice versa. The only reason you were not notified earlier was my need for haste in vacating the premises of my former residence.”

Wickham’s brow knitted uneasily. “I apologise. I was upset that I could not find you. May I ask why you had to leave so hastily?”

“I was warned that your boyhood chum, Darcy, and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, were not only in Town but were actively searching for me. How is it that I learned of this before you? Were you not supposed to inform me when he was in London, so that we could begin our plan to recover my wife?”

“But he has only just arrived!”

The count scowled, apparently aware that that was not the case. He seemed about to challenge him anew, when Wickham quickly added, “One of my associates informed me yesterday that he was in Town. I immediately met with the woman who is to help us recover your wife and, as we speak, she is on her way to Derbyshire. I came as soon as I could to inform you that I leave for Liverpool in the morning.”

“And when did you suppose I would leave for Liverpool?”

“You have not said, though I assumed you would most likely leave straightaway once you had heard from me that all was in readiness.”

“I did not think it necessary to explain, given my devotion to my wife, but I had always planned to travel with you. I have very little baggage, as most of my belongings are already on the dock in Liverpool, and one of my father’s ships sails from there shortly.”

“Yes, of course. So you will sail from England with your wife as soon as she is brought to Liverpool?”

The count bristled. “What I do after I recover my wife is no concern of yours, and you would do well to remember that!”

Wickham grew cross at the count’s attitude, but tried to control his temper by concentrating on the reward. “I shall endeavour to remember that for future reference. Now, as to our imminent journey, the coach I hired leaves early tomorrow. Keep in mind that as soon as your wife is convinced to leave Pemberley, the clock begins ticking and time will be of the essence.”

“Let us hope, for your sake, that luck and time are on our side. I could not abide failing to reclaim my Elizabeth.”

The evil expression on Stefano’s face unnerved Wickham. He had dealt with many corrupt men, but the lack of feeling in the count’s eyes made his skin crawl, and he was disquieted at having to share a coach and accommodations for the four-day journey to Liverpool with him.

Why do I think the reward will hardly compensate for being in your vile company?

Matlock House

A Dinner Party

When William arrived at Matlock House, he was surprised at the number and variety of people assembled. Aunt Evelyn had kept her word—there were only family members present, but she had failed to mention that distant relations might be among the guests. As he looked from one person to the next in the half-circle waiting to greet him, his discomfort increased substantially. Included in the group was a woman William detested almost as much as Lady Catherine—his aunt Gladys Fitzwilliam.

Gladys was the widow of Lord Matlock’s brother David. From the time he was old enough to form his own opinions and live with his own decisions, William had avoided her company. The only exceptions were an unexpected visit to Pemberley after his father’s death and an equally unexpected visit to his London townhouse shortly before he left the country.

During the London visit, he was quite sure that his aunt had tried to force a compromise by slipping her oldest daughter Florence into his dressing room late one night. Fortunately, William’s valet was still in the room and opened the door to find Florence standing just outside in the hallway dressed in nothing but her nightgown. Consequently, their visit did not end cordially but with even more strained relations between them. William never told anyone but Richard about his suspicions.

After he had moved to Scotland, Richard wrote that Florence had married, and her husband had been killed in a hunting accident within six months of the marriage. And as William noticed this same cousin standing next to her mother, he could not help but feel some sympathy towards her. At the very end of the line was Edith, the youngest daughter, whom he hardly recognised, since she had matured so much physically in the last two years.

In thinking of his cousins, William had always tried to keep in mind that the daughters were probably only pawns in their mother’s plans. After all, Florence had been very apologetic, if not honest, as to her reasons for being in the hallway in such a state of undress. Tonight, however, he cringed to consider why they had travelled to London, as they normally resided in Brighton this time of year.

Quickly recovering, he moved forward to address his aunt and uncle and then on to Amelia. His cousin was now eight and twenty and no longer the lively girl he remembered playing with as a child. Richard had informed him of the sad state of his sister’s marriage, and the fact that she had not been able to conceive a child. It saddened him that she looked stressed and much older than her years. Even more disappointing was that, somewhere along the way, she had lost her lively disposition and smile.

William bowed. Taking her hand, he brought it to his lips, all the while looking intently into her eyes, willing her to see his concern. “Amelia, it has been too long. I have missed our conversations.”

“Yes, it has been a long time, Fitzwilliam. I, too, have missed our talks, especially of books, plays and operas. You are the only cousin I have who can carry on a decent discussion regarding Shakespeare…umm…well, except for Georgiana, of course. But, alas, since she and I have married, we hardly see one another.”

“Then you must come to Derbyshire. You and your husband are welcome to stay at Pemberley, but I know Georgiana would want you with her at Rosewood Manor as well. You could enjoy being together again, as you did when you were girls. She often speaks of you—in fact, she mentioned you just last week.”

She smiled brilliantly for just a moment, and then the smile faded completely. “She has a child now, does she not?”

William squeezed the hand he still held, knowing this was hard for her. “Yes. A little girl—Millie. You would love her as much as we do. She is truly a blessing. She was an orphan, you know.”

Amelia looked wistful. “Yes, I heard.” Then she seemed to recover her guard, straightening and resuming the indifferent demeanour that she had exhibited when he entered the room. “I would love to see Georgiana again and you as well, but I fear that I cannot come. Marshall does not allow me to be away from home for very long, and Derbyshire is quite a distance. He is not fond of visiting family—mine or his.”

William leaned in to whisper, “Perhaps it is time to do what is not allowed.” He nodded at her slight smile and moved on to greet Colonel Fitzwilliam.

“Richard! It seems we are always meeting.”

As everyone laughed, Richard flicked his eyes to the extra family members and back again, speaking softly. “Just remember, this, too, shall pass.” Then he said for everyone to hear, “Are you not the lucky one?”

William could not hold back a smile, but it faded when he looked to the next in line. Edgar’s eyes flashed defiantly. He had always been jealous of his cousin, and his wife’s infatuation with William had only exacerbated the problem. Though he knew the flirtation was one-sided, Edgar still held to his dislike of the man he had always envied. Besides, he had entertained tender feelings for his cousin Florence for years, and she, like all women of his acquaintance, only had eyes for William. Bowing slightly, he spoke stiffly.

“Darcy.”

William took his cue from his cousin and replyed stiffly, “Leighton.”

Earlier, Edgar had delighted in informing Gladys Fitzwilliam that William would dine there tonight, thus securing her attendance. To add further to his cousin’s unease, after he and William had exchanged cursory greetings, he declared loudly, “I say, Darcy, when you entered the room, you look unnerved—as though you had seen a ghost.”

“Edgar,” Evelyn Fitzwilliam warned in a low voice.

Instantly, Amelia switched places with Richard and pinched her brother’s arm, causing Edgar to scowl at her and then shrug at his mother’s look of disapproval. Proud of temporarily disarming Darcy, Edgar skulked away from the group. Amelia raised her chin as if daring anyone else to tease her favourite cousin and seeing this, Richard patted her arm lovingly.

Lady Matlock stepped to take William’s arm, guiding him towards Gladys Fitzwilliam. She pretended a cough and covered her mouth as she whispered, “They were not expected.” William only had time to place his hand over the one on his arm and give it a knowing squeeze before they reached his nemesis.

~~~*~~~

As they finished the main course, William looked up to find Florence, who sat directly across from him, smiling in his direction. Quickly he diverted his eyes to Richard, who happened to be sitting next to her. Richard, however, had turned to Edith, who was going on about something William could not hear.

Firmly fixing his gaze back on his plate, he tried to occupy his mind by considering the extreme differences in his cousins. Florence was approximately six and twenty, tall, with hair so light that it was almost white. Her complexion was fair, but she had dark lashes and brows, which brought out her features. She also had green eyes that danced when she smiled, and tonight she seemed to smile a great deal—at him.

Edith, on the other hand, was about one and twenty and a good bit shorter, with medium brown hair. She reminded him just a bit of Elizabeth, though when he chanced a glance her way, he noted that her eyes were blue, not brown. As he mulled over the puzzle of sisters being so dissimilar, he failed to hear Florence’s enquiry. Finally, Aunt Gladys’ strident voice penetrated the fog of his musings.

“FITZWILLIAM!”

As he looked up, her annoyance was obvious. “Are you listening? Florence asked you a question.”

He coughed self-consciously as Edgar chuckled. “I am sorry. I was distracted.” He looked towards Florence. “What was the question?”

Florence’s green eyes lit up as though she were about to laugh. “I asked if it would be possible to beg a visit to Pemberley in the near future. I barely remember visiting the summer after Uncle George passed away. I do recall the general splendour of the property and how much I enjoyed your tour of the grounds.”

William’s eyes went to Richard, who was watching him sombrely, and then to his aunt, who looked concerned. Realising that he could not refuse Florence after inviting Amelia, he struggled with what to say.

“It would be a pleasure to have you and your family visit Pemberley again.” Florence’s face beamed, as did those of her sister and mother. The delight quickly faded, though, at his next pronouncement. “However, I am afraid your visit will, of necessity, have to be delayed until next year.”

Aunt Gladys interjected. “But, surely you are not so busy that you cannot entertain family for a short while.”

“I assure you that I am quite busy at present.”

“But, you invited Amelia!”

His eyes sought Amelia’s. She nodded knowingly, so he continued. “Who will, no doubt, stay with Georgiana during her visit, as I have no time to entertain her.”

Quite put out, Aunt Gladys declared, “And I suppose it is that cousin we have heard so much about that occupies all your time.”

The entire table fell silent, making all aware of Edgar’s snicker. Speechless, William glared at the woman. Even Florence, sensing that her mother had gone too far, recoiled at the fury on her cousin’s face.

Evelyn Fitzwilliam quickly intervened. “William has been a pillar of strength for his cousin Miss Lawrence. She needed a place to rest and recover from a long illness, and he was kind enough to offer her the quiet of Pemberley. I daresay he would do the same for any of his relations, if their needs were similar.”

Gladys Fitzwilliam was not to be challenged. “I have never heard of these so-called cousins—the Lawrences.”

“Neither have I,” Edgar rejoined, to the dismay of his parents.

Before William could reply, Richard joined his mother’s ruse. “I would be most surprised if you had. The Lawrences are distant cousins of the Darcys, not the Fitzwilliams. They hail from Sussex, do they not, Darce?”

William was so angry, all he could manage was a nod, but Richard continued undaunted, fixing a formidable glare first at Edgar and then at Gladys Fitzwilliam.

“I had the privilege of meeting the Lawrences years ago when I was in Sussex, though I am sorry to say they have passed on—at least the older generation.” He looked back to William. “I believe Miss Lawrence is your only Lawrence relation left, is she not?”

Grateful for his aunt and cousin’s support, William rallied. “Yes. Yes, she is. Both of her parents are dead, and she was the only one of her generation to survive to adulthood.”

His aunt sniffed, “How convenient!”

Edgar decided to deliver another blow. “And how is it that you met them Richard, but I have not? You have never mentioned them to me?”

“Unlike some, I have to work for my living, and I travel the length and breadth of England in service to the Crown. I meet any number of people that you never shall.” Richard smirked. “As for telling you, when have you ever taken time to talk to me, a lowly officer, about anything?”

Edward Fitzwilliam had reached the limits of his patience. He had approached this dinner with the hope that his oldest son had gotten past his anger towards his cousin, provoked anew by Jacqueline’s preference for Darcy. Long since accepting his part in the disastrous marriages of his son and daughter, he had tried to redeem himself by listening more and being less officious. Tonight, however, he could see himself in Edgar, and it was not a pleasant reflection.

As for Gladys Fitzwilliam, she seemed overly eager to skewer his nephew as well. He had no idea of what had caused the coldness between the two, but assumed it had to do with Florence. The fact that Edgar was apparently intent on helping her dress-down the boy made him furious. Finally, the Earl of Matlock spoke.

“Enough! Edgar, you and my sister have made quite a number of insinuations. I, myself, had occasion to meet George Darcy’s relations, the Lawrences, many years ago. I can only add that I am proud of Fitzwilliam for taking in someone with no family left in Sussex to see to her care.”

When Lord Matlock began his tall tale of the Lawrences, William, Evelyn, and Richard all turned to stare in astonishment. Never, in their wildest imaginations, would they have believed the earl would take up the story they had begun to protect William.

Seeing that she had angered the one person she feared most—Lord Matlock—Gladys rose to the occasion. “I apologise. I should not have voiced my reservations about this cousin, even if I believed the rumours to be true.”

Edward declared, “Rumours are just gossip, madam! And you need not apologise to me. Apologise to Fitzwilliam!”

At that, William’s aunt fixed him with an insincere smile. “I am sorry if my opinions brought you pain. Please forgive me.”

William stood, his chair scraping the floor. “I accept your apology, madam, though I wish you to know that your opinions mean nothing to me. Whatever I decide to do with my resources is my concern and no one else’s. And as to the future, I intend to please myself.”

With that, he excused himself with a bow, as did Richard.

~~~*~~~

Later that night as Evelyn Fitzwilliam prepared for bed, she could not wipe the smile from her face.

It was not the grandest or liveliest dinner party the Fitzwilliam’s had ever given, but to her it was one of the most satisfying. Tonight her family, save Edgar, had come together to protect the nephew she loved like a son. Her husband’s vile relation—a woman she disliked as much as Lady Catherine—had truly been put in her place, and her dearest husband had proven himself to be the man she had always known he could be—a man worthy of all her respect and love.

And as she stood to inspect her person, having left her hair loose as Edward preferred, she smiled at her reflection in the mirror. Tonight she would slip into Edward’s bedchamber. After all, he had winked at her when he left her to her preparations.

Darcy House

The Library

“So there you are!” Mr. Williamson strolled into the library—book in hand. “I heard a commotion and supposed it was you and the colonel returning from your dinner engagement, but I expected you would go directly to bed.”

William stood and gestured towards the brandy carafe. Williamson shook his head. “No, thank you. I was just returning this book on medieval remedies, hoping to find something equally as absorbing to read.”

“My cousin retired, and I was just thinking of doing the same.” William stifled a yawn. “By the way, I apologise again for leaving you alone tonight.”

“Think nothing of it. I have thoroughly enjoyed having time to myself. As much as I love being a minister, my little cottage is never free of parishioners needing one thing or another. When I am home, I can hardly finish a book.”

Sitting down, William sighed heavily, gaining the vicar’s full attention. Williamson now noticed the decidedly strained look on his host’s face. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

William chuckled. “Can you do away with some of my relatives?”

Williamson guffawed. “If I could do that, I would be in greater demand for funerals and would be richer than you, I imagine.”

At that, William laughed and the vicar studied him. “I take it that something unsettling occurred at the dinner party.”

“You might say that.” Blowing out a deep breath, William began to relate all that had occurred at Matlock House. Afterwards, they sat in companionable silence for a time.

Finally, the vicar ventured, “I can certainly understand the reason for your question about doing away with your relatives.”

William grinned tiredly, rubbing his forehead. “Yes, but my uncle certainly redeemed himself, at least in my opinion. He has always drummed duty, family and responsibility into me and into his own family as well. It was a shock to see him stand up for me like that—most especially since he and I have not been close in years.”

“I should imagine from what you have told me of Lady Matlock that she has been a great influence on his change of heart. And you, of all people, can understand the influence a worthy woman can have on a man who just needs to set his priorities in order.”

William lifted his glass in salute. “I believe you have come to the heart of it.”

There was a knock on the door, and the men exchanged glances. “Come,” William called out, and Mr. Barnes entered with a letter in his hand.

“Sir, this was just delivered by a footman who would not tell me the name of his employer, but he did say that it was urgent that you read it as soon as possible.”

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes. That will be all.”

The butler nodded and quit the room.

Staring at the decidedly feminine handwriting, William knew exactly who had sent the missive, and for a brief moment, he hesitated. Glancing over to Mr. Williamson, the man’s brows rose in question, and he knew he had no choice. Swallowing hard, he tore into the scented envelope.

Dear Fitzwilliam,

I have information regarding your dear cousin ... the one staying at Pemberley for her health. If you are truly interested in her wellbeing, you will want to hear what I have learned from two very interesting sources—a count who claims he is her husband and a swindler who says he was reared at Pemberley. They have great plans for Miss Lawrence.

You know where I live. Come to my house in the morning if you wish to know what I heard quite by accident. Perhaps we can work out an agreement whereby I can share it with you.

Gwen

The look on William’s face was enough to convince Mr. Williamson of the seriousness of the situation. After several seconds of silence, he decided to get involved.

“If I may be so bold, I can only imagine from the look on your face that this letter is in regards to Elizabeth. I do not believe you would be afraid for yourself, but you look frightened for her.”

Only his eyes moved to the vicar. “Yes, I am afraid an acquaintance of mine—a woman—has learned of some plan afoot to harm Elizabeth. She is not above using blackmail to enrich her coffers, and while I abhor paying for information, I will do anything in my power to protect Elizabeth.”

“Naturally. Are you to meet with her?”

William stood up. “Yes, in the morning, and if I am to get started early, I will need to retire now.”

“Certainly. Would you like me to accompany you tomorrow?”

“I appreciate your kind offer, Mr. Williamson, but Richard will insist on going with me, as he knows the woman well. And although she is prominent in the ton, I fear a man of your occupation would do well to stay clear of her.”

Williamson smiled. “So people would talk if I were seen coming from her house?”

William chuckled. “The only way you could avoid the gossip would be if you had administered the last rites, and she were carried out dead.”

“And what of your reputation?”

“I am Fitzwilliam Darcy.” He smiled mischievously as he lifted an eyebrow. “I need no reputation.”

“Oh?”

“Nevertheless, I would never call on her alone. I would do nothing to crush Elizabeth’s faith in me.”

The kindly reverend widened his grin. “I think Fitzwilliam Darcy worries more about his reputation than he pretends.”

Mr. Barnes was checking the last of the doors when he heard the master and his guest laughing as they went up the grand staircase. He smiled to himself. He could remember a time not so long ago when Mr. Darcy never laughed at all.

~~~*~~~