In the Arms of Mr. Darcy

by Sharon Lathan

  “Please tell me it is morning already? Or at least that all the invitees have arrived?”

  Lizzy laughed, relinquishing Richard’s arm for Darcy’s and squeezing tight. “The answer to both is no, my love. But the good news is that the flood appears to have fallen to a trickle, so perhaps we can allow the new arrivals to find us.”

  “Superb. I was beginning to feel like a statue standing conspicuously on the step.”

  “You did have the vantage point, however. What news to report from your angle?”

  He scowled, voice grating. “Georgiana has danced each set, I do believe. She is currently on her second set with Mr. Vesey. I do not like him.”

  “Well there is a shocking proclamation,” Richard said with a laugh, Darcy scowling deeper and adding a glare.

  “If that is all you have noticed, then I guess I will share some of my news. Your cousin, Mr. Butler, does indeed compose music as you were told. He has agreed to play for us.”

  “I hope he has some talent and avoids the morbid tunes that seem so popular among some.”

  Lizzy was shaking her head. “I do not think so. He seemed a lively, humorous young man. Not somber in the least.”

  Richard was still smiling at his cousin, Darcy noting the amusement with chagrin. He spoke, eyes riveted to Richard’s face, “Lord and Lady Fotherby arrived about twenty minutes ago. They headed toward the dining room.”

  Richard jerked, eyes widening and mouth falling, speech halting once he found his voice. “Lord… Fotherby! How… What do you mean?”

  “William, that is just cruel.” Lizzy scolded, although she was fighting not to laugh. “He means the young Lord Fotherby, Richard. No one has learned how to revitalize the dead, despite the fantastical claims in that absurd Frankenstein novel. Did you greet them properly, dearest?”

  “Naturally. As abounding in warmth and amiability as I could possibly manage.” He smiled gaily at Richard, who grunted in derision. “She is lovely in a gown of pearly white with mere touches of black.”

  “Ah, a bold statement indeed.” Lizzy nodded satisfactorily. “A year will soon be passed. It seems her heart is prepared to move on. Interesting.” She did not look at Colonel Fitzwilliam though, instead gazing at Darcy with a mixture of amusement at Richard’s predicament and unsettling disquiet at the mere concept of continuing life without her husband. He smiled tenderly, reassuring with a firm squeeze to her hand.

  “I deem it only proper for you to welcome the new Lord Fotherby to Darcy House as well, Mistress Darcy. Care to join us, Colonel?”

  Richard swallowed and nodded, Darcy pivoting quickly to hide his grin.

  The former Lady Simone Halifax, now the widowed Most Honorable Marchioness of Fotherby, stood at the edge of the ballroom dancing area. Numerous guests lined the walls, standing and sitting, dancing partners interchanged and mingled, conversation ebbed and flowed. Lady Fotherby was flanked by her paternal uncle and aunt, Lord and Lady Francis-Nall, and her stepson, the new Lord Fotherby. The sixteen-year-old 9th Marquis of Fotherby, 12th Baron of Armsbury was a slight youth no taller than his stepmother, fair haired with a sallow complexion. He exuded an air of ethereal weakness, his frailty unmistakably a result of a chronic illness that amplified an inherited lack of attractiveness. Appearing far younger than his tender years, he nonetheless held himself with the dignity of his station and gallantly assumed the role of protector to his widowed parent.

  Lizzy eased into the assembly as effortlessly as always, Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam contributing as fitting to their personalities. That is to say, Darcy offered short sentences and engaged Lord Francis-Nall and Mr. McQuade in a lengthy conversation about the recent races at Ascot, whereas Richard gradually loosened under the carefree chatter and buoyant atmosphere. Never one to remain uncomfortable or tongue-tied for long, he rapidly exchanged his previous anxieties for his native charisma. Of course, it helped that Lady Fotherby was as naturally witty and effervescent as he was and additionally seemed deliberately to steer the dialogue in his direction as often as possible; or at least his heart hoped it was intentional.

  “Mrs. Darcy, your home is lovely. I have driven past Darcy House before, but have never been so blessed as to be a guest.”

  “Thank you, my Lady. I daresay that was not due to any slight intended, but merely because Mr. Darcy has not been fond of entertaining.”

  Lady Fotherby laughed. “No slight perceived, I assure you. I never knew your husband as well as his esteemed cousin”—she nodded toward Richard with a teasing smile on her lips—“but recognized his reserved nature at a young age. Quite unlike you, Colonel. A notorious flirt, I must say.”

  “Charm and sporting are taught in the military as tactics for deceiving the enemy. I was merely practicing my profession.” Richard quipped with a straight face.

  “Indeed, Colonel. Well, you were accomplished, so it surprises me naught that you have risen to such a high rank. We shall see if you have lost your edge and therefore doomed to remain a mere colonel forever.”

  Richard bowed with a flourish, Lady Fotherby laughing as Lizzy spoke. “Personality is a possession my cousin holds in spades, to the point of irritation from time to time.” She offset her words with a playful and affectionate touch to his arm, continuing more seriously. “However, it is his valor and bravery that has earned the notice of his superiors. If it is a subject that interests you, my Lady, Colonel Fitzwilliam is replete with tales both extraordinary and courageous. I cannot say my pride in our country’s armed forces was as profound until deeds were extolled by the good Colonel. I am sure he would delight in sharing with you, in his typically captivating way.”

  Richard’s thankfulness at Lizzy’s clever manipulation hid his astonishment at her deception. The truth was that he had never once spoken of anything military to Darcy’s wife! What tales he told were flippant and spun for humor rather than enlightenment.

  His gratefulness increased tenfold when Lady Fotherby replied, “It would be an honor to hear your stories, Colonel Fitzwilliam. You are aware, I am sure, what a strong supporter my late husband was of the King’s military. I too shared his passion in the subject. And specifically for the men who sacrifice so much for our great country.”

  The last was uttered softly and with a penetrating gaze into his eyes. Richard’s breath caught and it was as if the entire room faded away for a brief time. Strange how tiny details will suddenly loom large and burn into the consciousness. He noted the color of her eyes, a hazel base with pinpoint flecks of greens and blues; the fine lines at the corners of her eyes which lent an air of maturity to her otherwise youthful face; the multiple lengths of her golden eyelashes; the small mole above her left upper lip; and on it went. The girlish face he remembered so vividly from those bygone days of immature infatuation now melded with and was supplanted by the adult one seen clearly with the steady love of a grown man.

  Further conversation flowed, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Lady Fotherby fluently drawn into the general discourse as the topics shifted. None but Lizzy and Darcy noted the oblique if borderline pointed exchanges between the two, although Lord Francis-Nall did frown a time or two. The stiffly hovering Lord Fotherby was finally persuaded by his stepmother to join the bands of adolescents flittering around the room. He resisted, shyness apparent and empathized with by Darcy, but was eventually swayed by the rowdy capture by a couple of friends, sons of other prominent guests.

  “Mrs. Darcy, the announcement has been made for the sarabande.” Darcy turned to his wife with a staid expression, the twinkle in his vibrant blue eyes only visible to her discerning gaze. “I believe it is incumbent upon us to partake in this particular dance whenever possible. May I have the honor?” His rich voice dropped into an intimate caress.

  She took the offered hand with a curtsy and brilliant smile, her own voice a seductive purr. “The honor is mine, Mr. Darcy.”

  He inclined his head, flashing a bright smile, and squeezing her fingers firmly before leading away.

 
The handsome couple strolled regally to the line without a backward glance, eyes locked upon the other, and just like that, Richard and Lady Fotherby found themselves alone.

  Lady Fotherby wore a wistful smile as she observed the pair. Unconsciously she sighed, murmuring, “They appear so happy together and well matched. Mr. Darcy is particularly gay these days.”

  “Marriage has brought out his lighter side,” Richard said. “He is forever lauding the glories of matrimony.”

  “Do his acclamations not move you to take the plunge, Colonel?”

  He met her eyes with a steady gaze, attempting to discover the reasoning behind the casual remarks while also trying to pour his sentiments into the responses. “In truth, I have begun to rethink my prior adherence to the superior merits of bachelorhood. Perhaps it is the wisdom that comes with age, or seeing others find happiness in marriage, or maybe… other stimulations. But lately, for a few months now, I have seriously altered my attitude.”

  “How wonderful. I am sure every young lady of eligibility in London will be thrilled to hear the news.”

  He chuckled. “You are kind, Lady, but this is doubtful. Besides, few of them hold any interest to me.”

  She feigned shock as she teased, “Why, Colonel, how do you expect to cross from the realm of single man to happily married couple if you limit your choices and remain aloof?”

  He paused, speaking concisely in a low tone when answering. “I deem it wiser not to look beyond ladies in near proximity. A man my age knows what he wants.” He paused again, waiting, but she merely nodded with a secretive but pleased smile playing about her mouth. Richard could not prevent a wide grin from spreading along with the warmth diffusing through his chest. “May I have the privilege of escorting you in the next dance, Lady Fotherby? I believe it to be a minuet.”

  For the first time she glanced away, cheeks flushing slightly as she assured they remained isolated. Her voice was apologetic when she replied, “I regret I must decline your kind and welcome offer, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I promised my family I would adhere to their set timetable of mourning my husband for a full year. My recent excursions beyond my home were under the express agreement that I would socialize lightly and not dance.” There was a hint of anger to her tone, nothing in her demeanor giving the impression of overwhelming grief at her loss. She shook herself slightly, again meeting Richard’s eyes with a sweet smile. “Perhaps another time?”

  “Absolutely! The offer will remain extended as long as you wish it to be so.”

  She smiled wider, boldly holding his gaze as she cocked her head to the side. “Do your duties with your Regiment keep you wholly occupied, Colonel?”

  He blinked at the odd change in topic, heart falling although her expression remained open and frankly flirtatious. “To a degree, yes, but I am not without reserves of free time. Why do you ask?”

  She shrugged. “No particular reason. I also find that my time is often engaged with the consuming tasks of managing a household, demands of Society, and parenting. The latter, of course, is of tremendous joy to me. In fact, the highlight of each day is when I stroll through The Green Park with my children. The eastern end of Queen’s Basin, along the walk there, is our favorite destination and we try to arrive around one in the afternoon each day, as my eldest, Harry, has decided that is lunchtime for the ducks.” She smiled, still not averting her eyes. “It is a most refreshing way to spend an afternoon, Colonel. I would highly recommend the diversion as a remedy for stressful duties. And, if one is so fortunate, interesting conversations can be engaged in if friends are encountered by surprise.”

  Richard soared. Every ounce of steely discipline was called into play to avoid dancing a jig right then. Instead he nodded solemnly. “Yes, I see your point. Thank you for the suggestion, my Lady. I will do my utmost to arrange time to walk.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  TALES OF A SCOUNDREL

  The Darcys’ second season in London drew to a close with no particular upsets, but two last-minute dramas to deal with.

  The invitation hastily given to Georgiana Darcy and Kitty Bennet at the Cole’s Masque was indeed a sincere one. Miss Vera Stolesk and Lady Alicia Nash persisted in their desire to have their new friends join in the summertime revelry at the Nash manor north of Stevenage in Hertfordshire. The girls’ perseverance brought a shy blush to Georgiana’s cheeks while sending Kitty into throes of jubilation. True to Lady Alicia’s prediction, her father was amenable to adding two more girls to the mixture. She did wheedle and hyperbolize her desperation, the adorable pout put to good use, but it was a game between father and daughter. Lord Stevenage was not only completely twisted about his only daughter’s finger but also delighted to fill the vast corridors of Graceholm Hall with youthful laughter. He spoke with Mr. Darcy personally on the subject, assuring that the girls would be well cared for and chaperoned at all times. George Darcy added his promise to accompany and chaperone, a pledge that did not completely alleviate Darcy’s doubts, but between the adult persuasion and the pleading entreaties from Georgiana and Kitty, he could not deny the outing.

  Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were consenting to Kitty disappearing to the home of a complete stranger, no persuasion needed at all. Neither Darcy nor Lizzy were surprised. Mrs. Bennet was faint with happiness, quite convinced that Kitty would return betrothed to a rich suitor, while Mr. Bennet merely anticipated the silence that would fall upon Longbourn for two whole months!

  Therefore, three days after recuperating from the Darcy Ball, the two elated young ladies embarked upon their adventure with George Darcy playing protector. Sternly spoken admonitions were given, Georgiana undoubtedly the only one who would hearken to any of them, but the embraces and kisses of good-bye were as intensely bestowed as the instructions.

  “Be well, my Georgie,” Darcy whispered into her ear, disregarding propriety by pulling her into his arms while standing on the street walkway. “Return to me soon. I love you.”

  “Quit being a mothering hen, William,” George interjected with a boisterous laugh and sunny smile. “She will be far too busy to think about a stodgy older brother. And besides, I have promised to watch over them.” He winked at Lizzy, who resisted laughing, and boldly met Darcy’s scowl and grunt with a cheeky grin.

  The adieus were over after that, the carriage disappearing around the corner before Darcy sighed and turned to his wife.

  The second drama was far more serious and extremely enlightening, as it concerned George Wickham.

  The discussion that took place the day after Georgiana’s departure, three days before they were to leave for Pemberley, was the conclusion to a predicament that had initially arisen during the winter. Shortly after their visitors vacated Pemberley after Christmas, Darcy had received a message via the contacts he had in the Newcastle area that Wickham’s gambling and erratic behavior were beginning to spiral uncontrollably. There was nothing Darcy could do about the situation other than to instruct his associates to watch for any harm befalling Mrs. Wickham. However, probably before the dispatch made it to the far northern coastal town, Wickham was dishonorably discharged for insubordination. He barely avoided a court martial for drunkenly assaulting a superior officer, so they were informed.

  Lizzy was naturally distressed and wrote to her sister immediately. But that letter, like her last several, was never responded to directly. A brief missive from Lydia sent to Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, mere weeks prior to Mary’s wedding, droned on and on about “my poor Wickham’s misfortunes,” but gave no enlightenment as to their future plans. Mary’s wedding was clouded by the scandal, Mrs. Bennet seemingly unable, or unwilling, to relent in her vocal lamentation over “dear Lydia’s tribulations.” Mary handled the drama with her usual aplomb, refusing to allow her mother’s morose attitude to affect her happiness, but it served to alleviate her sadness in leaving the comforts of Longbourn for her new life in London. Lizzy and Darcy were strangely relieved and enthusiastic to quit Hertfordshire for the event of Anne de Bourgh’s wedding in Ke
nt. Even a fortnight with Lady Catherine no longer seemed as gloomy a prospect!

  After that one short message from Lydia, no other word was heard. It was as if the Wickhams had fallen off the face of the earth. Darcy’s contacts reported that they moved out of the shabby boarding house they had inhabited after Wickham’s discharge, but no one knew where they were headed.

  Obviously Darcy and Lizzy discussed the matter, and she was aware of and appreciative of his attempts to locate her sister. But as always when George Wickham’s name arose, as infrequently as that occurred, Darcy was closemouthed. Lizzy did not push the subject, knowing that his hesitancy was not due to a wish to secret a part of his life, but due to his protective nature and grievous memories regarding his childhood friend.

  That respect for his feelings was shattered, however, when on the day after Georgiana left for Stevenage, he announced to a startled Lizzy that he personally intended to travel north to see if he could ascertain any hints as to the whereabouts of Lydia and Wickham.

  “No, William, you will not.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Darcy glanced up from his desk in shock.

  “You will not go traipsing about risking life and limb for my sister. You have already spent far more money than you should in supporting her horrid choice. For this I am eternally grateful for a host of reasons, but enough is enough! I am certain that if there was anyone left who knew their destination upon fleeing Newcastle, he or she would have been uncovered by now. I will not have you frequenting the types of establishments where Wickham entertained and satisfied his aberrant urges. You did that once and it was sufficient for one lifetime.”

  “I assure you I can take care of myself,” he countered with asperity.

  “I do not doubt your capabilities, dearest.”

  Darcy looked away from her humorous smile, gazing out the window in thought as his fingers tapped a rhythm on the polished wooden surface of the desk. Lizzy waited. Finally, he continued, “I have an uncontrollable yearning to wrap my bare hands around that man’s neck and squeeze. I have never felt such hatred for another human being, Elizabeth. Never. And it rather frightens me.”