Page 7 of Secrets Across the Sea

Pemberley in Derbyshire, England – 1812

Seated in his study, Darcy rubbed his eyes wearily. His new steward would be a fine addition to the estate. Another few days and he would be able to run things should he and his sisters ever travel. As unlikely as that would be considering Darcy House in London had been let for the year. Even so, it would prove a welcome thing to share certain duties with another.

“William,” Georgie said as she knocked on his opened door, Cathy only steps behind. “May we come in?”

“Of course,” he smiled as he stood, motioning to the two most comfortable chairs in the room.

“You were not working, were you?” Georgie questioned, brows pulled as she studied her brother.

“I have been, but not at this moment, no.”

“You look tired,” Cathy stated matter-of-factly as she took her seat, before frowning up at her brother, “You ought to get more sleep.”

Sleep?

Glancing toward the clock then the night attire of his sisters, he sighed. “Why are you two not asleep? Mrs. Reed must already be abed, and chances are, she assumed you two to be so as well.”

“We were worried,” Georgie said as she pulled her slippered feet under her.

“Worried?”

“About you,” Cathy added, arms pulled close to her body as she rubbed her hands over them.

Removing his coat, Fitzwilliam draped it over Cathy’s shoulders.

“Why would you be worried about me?”

Head turned as she examined her brother, Georgie frowned, “You are up with the dawn to work, and long after we are abed you are still busy. We hardly ever see you anymore, and when we do your countenance is not the same. You never used to have that dark, puffed up expanse under your eyes. Or that knit to your brows.”

“I appear that haggard? I have scarcely looked in a mirror in weeks.”

“Handsome still,” Cathy hurried, eyes wide. “Only tired and, well… cheerless.”

Mulling the past weeks over in his mind, he let out a heavy breath. He had allowed the task of training his new steward to be shoved in wherever he could. Sometimes pushing other duties into hours previously spent enjoying his sisters’ company or a good book. Instead, business letters, planning crops, updating the accounts, and a dozen or two other necessary occupations filled that once precious place.

In a few days that would be no more, for Mr. Anderson had come to be as familiar with the estate and what it needed as he. Still, his sisters deserved some reparation, and he was in need of some loudly demanded rest. It would not do, after all, for him to appear tired or cheerless.

“My time of instructing Mr. Anderson on the running of the estate is nearly concluded… though he could use the opportunity to employ what he has learnt unhindered for, say, just under two weeks.”

“Does that mean you shall take that time for yourself and not work?” Georgie questioned with a broad smile.

“Oh, please do,” Cathy added. “Think of all the fun things we might do. Riding, playing music in the evening–we must make certain you find time for rest too of course. Oh, it will be such fun!”

“Yes, aside from a few hours in the morning, I promise to take that time to enjoy the company and to rest. It shall be useful for both Mr. Anderson and myself. Besides which,” he smiled, “I received a letter from our cousin. He is to arrive this Monday and visit us for ten days. It would not be polite to be a distracted host, now would it?”

With a giggle, both sisters spoke of their excitement with unrestrained glee, even as, after a quarter of an hour, he hurried them both off to bed with promises of picnics, horseback rides, and all manner of pleasant activities; his own sleep soon following as his eyes refused to view his accounts properly.

∞∞∞

The following day, seated in the drawing room with his sisters for a short time in an attempt to ease their worries, Darcy smiled fondly at them, the surprise he had designed that morning certain to delight. Four families would, by end of day, receive invitations to dine at Pemberley, and, though his sisters were not yet out, the informality of the evening would allow both the opportunity to enjoy amusements beyond their own sphere. Their cousin too, would appreciate it, for as much as he reveled in the quiet, he enjoyed parties more.

Perhaps he should tell his sisters now? Each of the families he had invited were presently in the area; there would be little chance of more than one family being unable to attend.

Yes. They would enjoy the news. And he, the telling.

Leaning toward his sisters who sat busily across from him with their books, he opened his mouth to tell his tale, only to close it as the butler came in with a London newspaper and a deep frown.

“What is it, Mr. Timmons?”

“Sir, forgive my presumption, I know you sit with your newspaper of an evening, but I believe there is something you ought to see.”

Nodding, he held out his hand, the weight of the newspaper strange as he studied his butler.

Paper rustling as he opened it, his heart pounded as he scanned the headlines.

Declaration of war.

A new conflict with America has begun as the American Government declared war against Great Britain.

Gulping his eyes traveled down the dark letters, pausing now and again as a passage pierced him.

Mr. Madison, in bringing charges against us to Congress, brought any and all he might, exaggerating and inflaming each in his words. Indeed, charges of offenses no longer made were included amongst his reasoning, and few might be considered sufficient for such a declaration to be made…

The grounds for war, according to the American Government, are largely as follows:

The system of blockade, particularly Mr. Fox’s order of 1806.

The affair of the Chesapeake.

The right of search exercised by us.

The Orders in Council.

The Indian war; and

The disavowal of Mr. Erskine’s arrangement.

These, amongst other lesser charges, were laid slanderously at our feet…

Every considerate man will naturally deplore this calamity…

The senselessness of this war must soon reach its end.

“We are at war with America,” he murmured as he sank into his chair, the room around him a haze as he sought to sort it out in his mind. War?

He would seek out news from America so he might learn both sides of the conflict. He needed to know, as a man of both worlds; his being demanded it.

Still, such conflict would be harsh for all involved.

Even he and his sisters would not come away unscathed.

Examining the worried faces of his sisters, he forced a smile, reassuring them such a war would not last long. Yet, his assurances sounded flawed. His revelation, unsound. And in his heart he knew the truth.

A prideful part of him considered the effects to himself and his sisters with greater concern than he ought. However, with his sisters and he already the source of suspicion and ridicule in much of the Ton, it could not be denied that this declaration of war would only increase that censure. That they may no longer find welcome in those few homes of high gentry they were allowed.

What would it mean for his sisters? he wondered, heart aching as he gazed upon their innocent faces. For their futures?

And, for him? The estate? Their tenants and staff?

Everything felt less certain than the day of his parents' deaths. For then he had hope for the future. Now… did he have hope at all?

∞∞∞

The morning their cousin would arrive came quickly enough, Darcy scurrying to both prepare Mr. Anderson for the coming days and to see to it that Mrs. Reynolds had readied Fitz’s favourite room, foods, and drinks. Both activities, however, were proven unnecessary as the two members of staff and those under them had been, in all things, one move ahead of him.

All will be well, he assured himself as he stood outside with his sisters, Fitz riding up the drive ahead of his belongings as per usual. It would be a quiet, restful time. Never mind that the invitations he had sent to the gentry of the area had been politely or impolitely rejected. Never mind that the future seemed grim… for his sisters did not know of the rejections or the depth of his worries.

But Fitz would.

As comforting and unsettling as it was, it would be welcome to have someone to whom he could talk openly. IF he allowed himself to.

“Darcy!” Fitz cried as he neared, his horse showing off with energetic high stepping. “Georgie… Cathy! A fine sight after days of travel!”

“Fitz,” Georgie smiled, rushing into his arms the moment he dismounted, “I have missed you, we all have, come, Timothy shall see to your horse, and you will want to eat, and talk, and oh, we have so many things planned!”

Laughing as he gave her a hug, Fitz then proceeded to greet them each in turn, the foursome heading indoors as the stablehand prepared to pamper the gelding who had carried the beloved cousin to Pemberley’s door.

A warm pot of tea, sweet treats, and the comfort of the family drawing room were soon had. Fitz setting his journey before them in all the detail the sisters requested, until, at last, conversation drifted to personal news not yet shared.

“I nearly wore my uniform, for I thought it would be a pleasing means to relay my news,” Fitz said with a smirk, the arm of his chair receiving far more than its share of his person.

“News?” Cathy asked, tone raised in her excitement.

“I could guess what it is,” Darcy said before chuckling at his cousin’s narrowed eyes and quick frown.

“You,” Fitz hurried to his youngest cousin, “may now speak of me to others as Colonel Fitzwilliam. Yes, colonel. The deed was done not two weeks back, but I wished to tell you all in person.”

“That is wonderful,” Darcy said softly. After all the disappointments in that regard, it was welcome news. At last, their cousin’s decision to maintain relations with them had not hindered his promotion.

Two weeks? If news of war had been announced first, would he have still achieved the rank of colonel?

“Hurrah!” Georgie shouted playfully, the joyous exclamations of her sister mingled in. “What fine news, and on this special day. William told us we are to have a treat tonight, and I am certain it is to be one of your favorites.”

“It will be rather like a party, the four of us together with all that fine food,” Cathy smiled before taking an impressive bite of her tart.

“That it shall,” Darcy said, hiding a laugh as his sister munched away. Hardly ladylike, but he would not chastise her. Not when she had not been this joyful in more days than he could count. “Now then, let me lead you to your room; you must be wearied.”

“Cousin has had that room before,” Cathy said as her brows furrowed. “He should know the way by now.”

“But it is the mark of a good host to see to their guests,” Darcy said as he hurried to stand, one hand extended toward the door, “Let us see you settled.”

“Of course,” Fitz nodded, lips pursed and brows drawn as he passed; the pair quickly making their way down the hall and up the grand staircase, before he stood stock still, arms crossed as he stared at Darcy two steps down. “Now then, what is it you wish to say?”

“You have heard the news, I suspect. Of the new state of war with America?” Darcy frowned, gaze falling to the railing awkwardly.

“I have. Is that why you drew me away, to see if I had heard? If so, I see no reason for it; I had not even enough time to tease your sisters of the gifts I brought, for you know I would have tempted them with it and given reason why it ought to wait ‘till the morrow,” Fitz laughed, though his eyes stayed on Darcy, flitting over him as he sought to work out the puzzle before him.

“You would tease them,” he smiled softly, even as his hands furled and unfurled beside him, emotions and topics swirling within. “Yet, surely you must know what this war means. I know you do. If things have been difficult maintaining a known connection with us, how much more now? Already the sting of it is felt for Pemberley. I invited four local families to join us one evening while you are here, the invitations sent before I knew of the war… all invitations were met with rejections. Half courteous. Half filled with insults that held little enough veil for polite society. That is what we are to endure… I pray that you might avoid it.”

“Do your sisters know?” Fitz queried, tone stilted as his eyes blazed. “They did not read them, did they? If so, I would gladly throttle the heads of those families responsible. Or anyone else who requires it; somehow to lay blame at your or your sisters' feet.”

“No. I did not tell them of my plans to invite anyone; they know not of the rejections. Still, you are changing the subject. You have already endured trials on our account.” Brows knitting, Darcy gazed up at his cousin, “How did you manage this rise to Colonel given that?”

Sheepish, the now colonel hesitated momentarily, “It seems last year when I served on the Peninsula that I saved the life of a colonel with high connections, for, once he rose to the rank of general a month back, he began to press for my advancement. I doubt he did so without opposition, however, he did manage it in the end. As great a repayment as I might ever have expected.”

“Astounding! Though well deserved. I have no doubt your record and bravery spoke well of you–not only that one instance. Even a grateful man with connections could not have seen it done were you not worthy. I simply wish our connection did not prove a hindrance in your career.” Hesitating, he frowned, “I have the answer… we tell my sisters you are called back to your regiment–a message delivered while we were busy conversing–then you return to London and denounce all acquaintance with us publicly. I could explain it to my sisters later.”

“Darcy, enough! Have you taken leave of your senses? It is my choice. I will not lay aside family who are as dear to me as any. Not for any reason, much less this fanciful one of yours. Yes, there MAY be certain repercussions, but not those you lay claim. Not dire ones only solved by deceit and disloyalty. This is not who you are, nor is it who I am.”

Laying a hand on Darcy’s shoulder, the Colonel gave a sad smile, then turned up the stairs, leaving Darcy standing on the stairway.

His cousin was loyal… and stubborn. There would be no moving him from his decision. To his sisters that family connection might prove a saving grace, but it would do no favours to Fitz. And for all that he may have been wrong about lying to his sisters, he had the right of it in the rest. There was no fanciful difficulty to Fitz or his sisters and he… it had already proven real. It had given enough pain to demonstrate that. More than enough by far.

∞∞∞

“Darcy,” Fitz announced, the letter he held aloft fluttering as he entered the library, “a friend of mine wrote several days ago; he is in the area and wishes to see me. I took the liberty of inviting him to stay… he has accepted the invitation. He shall arrive Tuesday and remain a sennight.”

Head tilted, Darcy stared at his cousin incredulously. Surely. Surely he had misheard.

“You invited him HERE ? Without speaking to me? Without even telling me his name or where he is from… or anything, aside from his being a friend.”

“Mr. Charles Bingley, the only son of a wealthy tradesman. He is in search of an estate to rent or, if he likes one enough, to purchase. Well, his two sisters are much keener on his purchasing than not, the unmarried one in particular.” Shuddering dramatically he laughed, “Be thankful I did not extend the invitation to her; she is in London with her sister presently so it did not matter, but I still could have offered. In any case, I did not obtain your permission because this foul mood you are in would have you reject royalty the privilege of lodging here. Mr. Bingley may not yet rank amongst the gentry, but he is an amiable, honest sort of fellow whose company you, I, and even your sisters would benefit from. You cannot brood forever… not when it hurts your sisters. You will recall, they have not been told the reason.”

Divided between packing Fitz’s belongings so he might be dismissed from Pemberley and apologizing to him and his sisters for his foul mood, Darcy frowned. Neither option pleased.

“Does this Mr. Bingley know who he is to be staying with? Of the stain to all who reside with us?” Darcy taunted, his heart squeezing as he did. Why? What had come over him of late?

Sighing and growling in the same breath, Fitz answered, “You exaggerate… again. Though, to answer your question, he DOES know and he does not care.”

He had to apologize. He had gone too far; though Fitz had goaded him and insulted him… his words held truth.

“Well then, he shall be welcomed at Pemberley. By my sisters… but also by Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, a weary man who seems to have lost his way.” Rubbing at the familiar knot between his eyes, he let out a short, hollow laugh. “I admit I exaggerate some… I wish I exaggerated as much as you say. Still, we shall say no more about this, save that I regret injuring my sisters and yourself, and I beg your pardon for it. Though I lack your gregarious nature, I promise to make every effort to entertain our guest.”

“That is all I ask,” Fitz said as he made himself comfortable in the chair nearest the fire, booted feet draped carelessly over the arm, a wide smirk forming at Darcy’s scowl.