by J Dawn King
“You are.” Eager anticipation filled Elizabeth. Her yearning to see her husband absorbed her senses. She wanted to see his handsome face, touch him in a tight embrace, hear his tender words of love whispered in her ear, smell the familiar scent he wore, and taste his lips on hers.
Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam was surprised at his actions. He had been a widower for less than nine weeks when he had asked another woman for her hand in marriage. Initially he felt bad, as if his attaching himself to Mrs. Milford was a violation of the marital vows he had made to Anne. Then, he looked back to the bed where Mrs. Milford was nursing his son, talking softly to the babe who suckled at her breast. No, Anne would want this for Jem. Major Milford would want his wife well-settled.
“Mrs. Milford,” Richard began.
“Abigail, sir.”
Clearing his throat as if her name had lodged in the tight confines, he said, “Abigail...yes, well...um...Napoleon re-established the Catholic Church as the religion of the nation with the caveat that the church enforces his Napoleonic code, especially when it comes to marriage. As we are both Anglicans, we could have the option of being married by a priest here in France. When we are able to return to British soil, we can then remarry in the Church of England. Our other choice is a chaplain staying at the inn from another regiment. He could preside over a wedding. I do not know if he has in his possession a register for us to sign. If so, every aspect of the ceremony would be legally recognized by British law. If not, I fear my father would attempt to annul our marriage should he be inclined to withhold his approbation.”
“This chaplain, did he conduct the funeral service for Samuel?”
“He did.”
“Then I would be pleased if he would perform our wedding ceremony as well,” Abigail brought Jem’s little fingers to her lips before looking up to where Richard stood.
“Very well, then. I will see to the arrangements.”
Within an hour they were wed. The few officers who served under him who were at the inn were their witnesses.
Wrapping Jem in the warmest blankets, Richard escorted his wife...how odd that sounded...to the graveyard where her husband...no, her late husband...rested in the ground. Although it was not the typical beginning to a marriage, he was grateful he had made the effort when she handed the baby to him to approach the freshly turned earth.
“May I call you ‘Richard’?” Abigail quietly whispered as she gazed off into the distance.
“I wish you would.”
“I loved being Samuel’s wife every single day we were married. I loved his kindness. I loved how hard he worked to make each posting a home for the two of us. I even loved his impulsive nature so different from my own.” Inhaling, she slowly blew into the cold. “I, too, loved your wife dearly. Anne had the same eagerness as I when you and your regiment were away from home. We would meet together to decide what meal we would have prepared on our husbands’ first evening back with us. We discussed which dress we would wear and how we would arrange our hair. The excitement, the anticipation was equally shared between us.”
Richard nodded, unable to say a word.
“Sir, as I expect you to allow me to mourn my Samuel, I expect you to mourn Anne.” Turning toward him, she ran the back of her fingers over Jem’s cheek. “Our former mates are gone. With our marriage we begin a new life, the three of us. I promise to be a good wife to you and mother to your son. I promise to continue raising your son as my own. Mostly, I promise you on this day, Richard Fitzwilliam, that I will do everything within my power to learn to love you with the eventuality that you too will, in time, come to love me.”
Emotions swirled inside the colonel. Bending his head, he kissed his son on the forehead. Leaning over, he touched his lips to his wife’s cheek.
Her head turned until her lips brushed his.
It was barely a kiss. But he would forever remember it as their first.
Sucking in a breath, Richard pulled a few inches away. Without thought, his mouth dipped towards her again, this time going about the kiss with a thoroughness of two adults who had been married before. Their prior experience was to their benefit.
When Jem began to complain about being hemmed in between them, they stepped away from each other.
“Mrs. Abigail Fitzwilliam, I thank you for safely bringing my son to me. I thank you for marrying me on this day. I thank you for the promises you made.” The colonel clasped her gloved hand in his. “I promise to be the best husband and father that I can be. I also promise, as you did, to give my full attention to developing respect, affection, and then love. As we promised in our vows, I shall be faithful to you as long as I draw breath. I promise.”
As they walked back to the inn, Abigail mentioned, “Your cousin and his wife had a worse start than we have. Yet, after a short time, their love and devotion to each other is beautiful to see. I desire the same for us.” She smiled at him. “You see, at first, the new Mrs. Darcy did not care for Mr. Darcy at all. Not six weeks later, when I left for France, Elizabeth was frantic to travel to London to see him. However, to protect Jem from your father and aunt, she and Miss Darcy had to wait at an inn for four days. Elizabeth constantly fretted about her husband’s situation in Newgate. His arrest devastated her.”
“What? Newgate? Arrest? Darcy?” Richard was stunned. And angered beyond measure. “Of what are you speaking? Tell me.”
“I apologize, Richard. I forgot that you could not know.” Waiting until they were in the privacy of their room, Abigail began. “Your father sent a message to Mr. Darcy about your capture. When your cousin arrived at Matlock House to determine how he could be of assistance in getting you back to England, Lord Matlock had him arrested for child stealing. Mr. Darcy has been at Newgate since.”
“How did father know Darcy had my son? How did he even know Jem was alive?”
“I do not know the details, only that your brother had hired an inspector who was extremely thorough. Additionally, a former friend, a Mr. George Wickham, had turned traitor by implying and then clearly stating that your cousin was a vile man.”
At Richard’s expletive, she hesitated. Calming himself, Abigail continued, “According to Elizabeth, your cousin’s solicitor requested the letter you gave Mr. Darcy assigning him care of your son. Elizabeth, after consultation with her husband’s man of business...”
“Mr. Stilton. Yes, I know him well. He is a good man.”
“You are correct.” Abigail nodded. “After their discussion, Elizabeth determined to set out from Pemberley immediately, personally carrying the letter. All of us suspected Lord Matlock and Lady Catherine would attempt to intercept the baby somewhere along the way. Therefore, we took two carriages. Mr. Stilton was in one. The other held Elizabeth, Miss Darcy, the baby, and myself. When we encountered the men sent by your father, Elizabeth devised a plan to remain at the inn while Jem and I escaped. Mr. Stilton was of great assistance to us. I believe you now know all that I know.”
Blast! “My father will want Darcy to pay dearly for his attempt to thwart him.”
At his wife’s agreement, Richard spoke his thoughts aloud.
“I do not know the laws of England regarding child stealing. However, anything stolen from an earl is punishable far worse than with the general public. Darcy is in real trouble despite his only crime being that of desiring to help a friend in need.” Pacing the room, the colonel ran his hand through his hair. “Blast this war with France! Blast my greedy, arrogant father! Blast my ridiculous aunt!”
“Richard, if Mr. Darcy was able, he would do everything possible to see to your ransom,” Abigail said. “Elizabeth is clever as is your cousin. I cannot believe they will transport or hang Mr. Darcy. She simply will not allow it to happen.”
“Tell me how you were able to travel safely to me once you crossed the Channel,” he insisted.
“Before I do so, I will tell you that the driver, for a generous fee, pledged his life in lieu of his performance of a task I hired him for. He was to take a not
e when he returned to Calais to be delivered to Mr. Stilton indicating my safe arrival. Do you think it possible we might be able to get a message from you to Mr. Darcy as well?”
Richard considered her suggestion. “It is possible. The post coach will not be back through here for two days on the return to the port. I shall write immediately.”
Following through, he gathered the writing materials he had purchased with the few coins the French had not taken from him. When Abigail carefully placed Jem on the bed, Richard paid her little attention. When she turned from him to lift her skirts, the unusual movement startled him until he could not take his eyes from her. “What are you...?”
She pulled and tugged for what seemed an interminable length of time. Finally, she sighed. Spinning back to him, his wife held out a cloth bundle.
“This was another of Elizabeth’s ideas.”
Handing him the wad of fabric, he unfolded the bundle until it revealed the treasures contained within. Bank notes, coins, and several small pieces of valuable jewelry fell onto his lap. “What is...?”
Smiling, Abigail told him, “When Elizabeth retrieved your letter from her husband’s desk, she gleefully pilfered the cache Mr. Darcy kept for emergencies.”
“In his bottom left-hand drawer,” Richard grinned.
“I do not know,” Abigail admitted. “What I do know is that she quickly handed this to me immediately before I left the inn. I stuffed it at the bottom of the basket where I kept Jem’s soiled cloths. Not one person attempted to search the basket.”
“I can imagine.”
Richard laughed aloud. “Abigail, we will use these funds to purchase our way back to England. It might take some time until we find an honest traitor to help us. I vow to search until I find him.” He stood to envelop her in his arms. “We will be home before you know it to raise our family on British soil.”
For the first time since his capture, Richard felt things were finally going his way. He hoped his feelings were not misplaced. Time would tell. At least, they had the resources to start the process.
Folding the valuables up in the cloth, he tucked the packet back in the bottom of the basket.
“We all have our tasks,” he smirked. “Mine is to arrange escape, yours is to care for this young man, and his is to keep snoopy noses away from this basket.”
Grinning to himself, he joined his comrades for the first time since his capture. It was time to develop a plan that would work. It needed to work. Darcy’s life depended on it.
Chapter 28
Elizabeth Darcy was escorted to Newgate prison by none other than Darcy’s valet, Parker. In attendance were four footmen who were carrying enough food for a grand picnic at one of Pemberley’s gazebos.
The instant they stepped inside the high stone walls, Elizabeth feared she would cast up her accounts. Women wearing barely a stitch of clothing were lying on the floor, their bones almost visible through their flesh. Men, young and old, kicked at the females as they rushed to seek whatever favors the visitors offered.
Parker stepped in front of her as the other men protected her from her back and sides. “Look to the back of my coat, Mrs. Darcy. Do not allow your eyes to waver.”
Elizabeth nodded, moving closer to the valet. Parker had been attending Darcy daily. Elizabeth trusted his instructions. Parker had to be in his sixtieth year, yet as soon as he felt her presence directly behind him, he fisted his hands, drawing his arms up to a fighting position to protect her.
The warmth flooding her heart and Parker’s directions kept Elizabeth from seeing the worst in the prison courtyard. By the time they reached her husband’s cell, Elizabeth was more determined than ever to do whatever was needed to see to Darcy’s freedom.
When the keeper unlocked the door, Elizabeth rushed inside right into her husband’s arms.
“Will, oh Will!”
“My darling wife.”
Her hands framed his face as she kissed him passionately. Her senses reeled as her feet were lifted off the cold stone by a husband as enthusiastic in his expressions as she was. That one kiss led to another and another until she was pressed against him as closely as two humans could get.
Around them, the footmen and Parker attended to their tasks. Stepping outside they left the couple alone.
“My wife! My bride!” Darcy’s forehead rested on hers, the tip of his nose barely brushing the end of hers. “You are here. Thank God, you are here!”
“My Will, how have you been able to bear this...this horrid place?”
He pulled her to him until her chin rested on his shoulder. Running his hands up and down her back, she almost purred like a house cat, such was her pleasure at finally being where she most wanted to be.
“Every minute of every day I thought of you, of Georgiana, and of Jem. I worried over what my uncle would or could do to you. Your daily letters have saved my sanity, Elizabeth.” He kissed her again.
When she regained her breath, she said, “Will, we need to talk.”
Sighing, he led her to the bed, seating himself beside her. “I know.”
“Dearest, your uncle is determined to leave you here for a full month until your trial. He is a vile man.”
“Of this, I am well aware,” Darcy clasped her hand tightly in his. “Are you well, my Elizabeth? Did he treat you roughly?” His grip became particularly tight. “Blast him! How dare he presume to force you into a confrontation he had no right to instigate? The arrogance of that man!”
Patting his chest with her free hand, she wiggled her fingers until he relaxed his grip. “Rest assured, I am well. As is Georgiana. Oh, Will. You will be so proud of her.”
“I am glad. But, tell me, I pray you. My imagination has been vivid. Share the details of what has happened.”
Elizabeth chuckled, “I am afraid our meeting was not as Lord Matlock desired. You see, during the discussion, I might have pointed out several injustices Mr. George Wickham had perpetrated against the Fitzwilliam family. Since he was in the room, Mr. Wickham bore the brunt of Lord Matlock’s frustration. Within moments, the reprobate was traveling to Marshalsea under the escort of the very men who had seen to our safe arrival to London. Lady Olivia then announced to the room that she was increasing. This took her and her husband from company, leaving your sister and me facing the earl and his vicious sister.”
“If I was a gambling man, I would suggest the odds were about even,” he grinned.
“Georgiana and I decided to simplify the negotiations down to one point. I would tell him where to find his grandson if he would free you from prison.”
“He would never agree.”
“No, he did not.” Elizabeth leaned into him. “Before we walked out of the door, I told him Jem was with Abigail and Richard in France.”
“France!” Darcy yelled. “How is that possible?”
“Abigail knew how it was to be done. Mr. Stilton accompanied her to Dover. I am currently awaiting his return with news of her safe arrival. We should hear within a day or two, I suspect.”
“France,” Darcy shook his head. “With the babe restored to his father and the letter from Richard assigning him into my care, my future should be secure.”
“It is as I dream,” Elizabeth whispered to herself.
“Elizabeth, I still do not know why my uncle is set against me. Mr. Shaw researched the letters patent and the final will of my Uncle Lewis. The information contained within explained Aunt Catherine’s motives. She will soon lose her home without guardianship of Jem. But my uncle? I do not know. What I do know is that we will never have peace unless his motive can be revealed.”
“Is Mr. Shaw searching through Lord Matlock’s history to determine if a clue can be found?”
“He is. I also hired Mr. Oscar Huggins to investigate my aunt and uncle. It has been over a week since I last heard from him,” Darcy admitted.
“Then we can pray he returns soon with a satisfactory explanation.”
He nodded. “Elizabeth, I will be confined
here for a while longer. Will you exercise caution? I cannot trust my Fitzwilliam family not to attempt to separate us.”
“Yes, Will. I will be careful. I will not walk out alone as has been my habit when in the country. I will make certain your sister and I have protection should we step outside Darcy House. What I will not do is remain home in comfort while you are here. Pray expect me daily, for I cannot think I could possibly go more than twenty-four hours without your embrace.”
His smile showed his dimples. “Then, if it pleases you, Mrs. Darcy, might I demonstrate all I have dreamed of doing since we parted?”
She felt his breath on her lips. “It would please me very much.”
Mr. Ernest Stilton’s employment with the Darcy family had, until the marriage of the current master, been routine. The man of business was most comfortable in a small office surrounded by columns filled with concisely written numbers accurately totaled.
The change to his circumstances, this running the length and breadth of England was far outside of normal. As he relaxed inside Mr. Darcy’s small carriage after departing from Dover, Mr. Stilton could not help but reflect on the past few days.
The trip from Pemberley with the three ladies in the carriage had been insightful. Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Milford were women of deep contemplation who did not hesitate to act. He could tell from the constant expression of consternation on Miss Darcy’s face that she had never spent time with ladies of this calibre. Undoubtedly, it would be to her benefit.
At the first inn where the travelers had stopped to change horses, Mrs. Darcy had spent long moments with him as the two of them considered Mr. Darcy’s circumstances from every conceivable angle. He had been required to jot down enough notes to fill a notebook. By the morning when the party separated so he could travel the North Road in search of Lord Matlock’s people, he had a list of important tasks to perform.
Never had he imagined he would be assisting a runaway woman and babe. Never ever in his lifetime had he suspected he would aid and abet his employer against a member of the House of Lords. Yet, if asked, he would do it again with pleasure. For right was right.