by Jennifer Joy
“Say nothing of it. This is my gift to you. See that you use it wisely.”
“I know exactly what I must do,” said Adélaïde, once again her focused, determined self.
“Good. Let us wait with the Matlocks in the sitting room.”
Two footmen carried a long table past them, into the empty room, followed by the housekeeper with her arms full of linens and a maid with a basin of clean water.
Adélaïde received them at the door. “You can lay her down in the parlor. Everything is ready,” she told Richard as he held Miss Mary close to his chest, so he could hear her raspy breath.
The doctor was pleased with the room with its scent of lye soap and sparse furnishings.
Richard rested Miss Mary on the tabletop in the center of the room and covered with a crisp, white sheet. Adélaïde clasped her hand, rubbing it in hers to warm it.
“I will need to remove her dress, so I ask that you leave, Colonel. One of the maids may stay with me to act as a nurse,” said Mr. Thorpe directly to Adélaïde. Already rolling up his sleeves to the elbow, he washed his hands in the washbasin.
With a squeeze to her hand and a kiss on her forehead, Adélaïde left Miss Mary. She stood in the doorway until a maid slipped past her and closed the door.
Richard rested his hand on her shoulder. “She is in good hands.”
She reached up to hold his hand and rested her soft cheek against it.
Adélaïde seemed to gather strength from his touch. After a minute, she lifted her head, straightened her shoulders, and said, “We ought to join the others in the sitting room.”
“Others?”
“Maman called Lord and Lady Matlock.”
Richard had hardly passed any time at home during the past week, allowing them to believe that he spent most of his time at his club or with friends. It would come as a shock for them to learn what he had really been up to.
“How is Mary?” asked Aunt Beatrice anxiously.
“She is in good hands, but we will not know until Mr. Thorpe gives a report.”
“I want him to look at Adélaïde’s arms and cheek once he has done his best for little Mary.” Richard had thought the same. “How are your hands, dear?”
Adélaïde turned them, and Mother gasped at the red welts and raw skin surrounding her delicate wrists. “What happened to cause such an awful injury?” She stood beside Adélaïde, searching for cuts and bruises. “Your cheek has a cut. It is not deep, but we should clean it.” Asking Aunt Beatrice if she had a list of items available, Mother added, “I am thankful now that I had boys, and am familiar with how to treat these things. I could write a book full of the horrors my boys put their father and me through.”
Aunt Beatrice called her housekeeper, who brought what the lady required in a matter of minutes.
Mother took Adélaïde over to sit beside her and tend to her wounds.
Once they were seated, Father spoke. “You have a lot of explaining to do, Richard. You had best begin.”
Richard explained everything in as few words as possible, which was to say that many details were added, and his hindsight did much to add to the story. On repeating the events, it amazed him how easily he had made it for Dovedale to play him like a chess pawn.
Mother, full of indignation toward Dovedale, said, “You just wait until I speak with his mother. She will get a piece of my mind; you can count on that. And what is this business of his sending you to Spain? Does that still stand?” She huffed in her ladylike manner. “After all you did, it is abominable that you be treated in this fashion.”
“Must you still go?” asked Adélaïde under her breath.
“As far as I know, the orders were sent. I have no reason to doubt his sending them.”
The disappointment on her face pierced his soul. Perhaps it was for the best. He could not afford to take a wife without a dowry, and any hope of a promotion had been carted away to Newgate Prison along with Dovedale. To marry now would be an irresponsible act— and one he would grow to hate himself for in the end, no matter how difficult it was to deny himself her love at that moment.
The butler entered the room, going directly to Aunt Beatrice. His tone was too low to overhear. Aunt Beatrice looked at Richard, then said, “See him in. We will receive the officer here.”
Richard went to sit by Father while their mysterious guest was brought in. It was the Adjutant General, the man directly below the Duke of York in command. Richard stood when he entered.
“Please sit, Colonel. I came here directly from Newgate, after parting company with the officer who met you in Dovedale’s office— I wanted to make sure the criminals were put under lock and key myself. After hearing his account of what transpired, I have a matter I would like to discuss with you. It is good news which I do not think you will mind your family and friends hearing, unless you wish for me to speak with you privately.”
“Please, General, I have had too many secrets lately. I prefer not to have any more. You may say anything you like here and now.”
The general smiled. “It gives me great pleasure to offer you a better position within His Majesty’s Army. You see, Lieutenant General Dovedale had a great deal of responsibility, which, for obvious reasons, he is no longer able to attend to. I want to offer his position, with all of the benefits attached to it, to you. We need an honest man to fill his role, and the field office agreed that you are the man for the job. What do you say, Colonel?”
Richard could not believe this happy turn of events. He was not frivolous like Dovedale, and Adélaïde would soon earn more than he did. He had every faith in her success, and with this new position, he could help her.
Pulling him out of his reverie, Adélaïde stood. “No! Please do not agree,” she begged Richard.
Did she not want to marry him? Did she not realize that this meant they could have a future together?
Turning to the general, Adélaïde asked, “If Colonel Fitzwilliam was to accept this position, could he be sent away?”
With the hint of a grin and one eyebrow cocked up, he said, “He could. Do you have an objection to that, miss?”
Adélaïde plopped her hands on her hips. “Why, yes, I do. I love this man that you would take away from me. I could not bear for him to be sent away and am not in a position to leave Mary or the girls who have stood by my side here, so that I could go with him. They are my family, just as much as Rich… the colonel is.” Her eyes glistened as she turned to Richard, “Please promise you will not leave me.”
“What kind of a husband would I be if I could not provide for you? You would grow to hate me as much as I would hate myself.” A carrot had been dangled before him, and now she was asking him to ignore it.
“Trust me,” was all she said.
He would lose her if he did not take a chance, and that was a loss he could not bear.
Addressing the general, he said, “I thank you for your offer. However, I am unable to accept.”
Turning to the general, Adélaïde said, “Sir, do you not agree that after the courageous service Colonel Fitzwilliam has performed, he should not be made to leave for Spain?”
“You do bring up a good point, miss. One that I will take it upon myself to grant.”
The general bowed, “If that is decided, then I bid you good day, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I wish you well in your future endeavors.” With a sideways grin on his face, he dismissed himself and left the room.
Richard collapsed into the chair next to Father, nauseated. He tried to sit forward, but his ribs stabbed him. Instead, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply— trying to come to terms with what he had given up.
When he opened his eyes, Adélaïde stood before him, radiating happiness. He wished he could share her emotion, but he was half agony, half hope.
“You had better have a good reason for making me refuse the one opportunity I had to propose to you properly, mademoiselle,” he said to her beaming face.
“Have I ever told you that your French accent is
atrocious? We need to work on that.”
He scowled, in no mood for her to point out his flaws so easily. Her smile was starting to annoy him, but he would say nothing to wipe it away. It was too beautiful.
Slapping his thigh, he said, “Drat it all, Adélaïde, I love you. What am I to do now?”
Her eyes crinkled up, and she dropped to her knees in front of him. “Marry me,” she said.
Richard groaned. “So, first I am not allowed to make a good living for us, and now I am denied the honor of proposing? You do beat all.” He shook his head but had to stifle the rumble of laughter threatening to explode from his chest. Even he could appreciate the irony of his situation.
“You asked a question to which I merely replied. I did not mean to offend, but let me inform you— in case you feel discouraged in any way— that I am agreeable to the idea… should you wish to ask, that is.” She fluttered her black lashes at him.
Clasping her hands, though he would have preferred an embrace, he asked, “Miss Adélaïde Mauvier, will you marry me? I have little more than my whole heart to offer, but I love you with a passion that consumes me.”
“I thought you would never ask,” she said as she wrapped her fingers through his.
Richard felt happier than he had ever felt, but one little detail cast a shadow over him.
Aunt Beatrice stood. “That is my cue. Lord Matlock, perhaps your solicitor is available to handle the business of Adélaïde’s dowry. I sent a message to my man and he only awaits my instructions.”
Richard went still. “Dowry? You are as penniless as I am… or, I thought so.” He looked between Adélaïde and Aunt Beatrice.
“Oh, no, nephew. It is never wise to assume.”
Confident that the sum was small, given the scant dwelling of Aunt Beatrice, Richard nodded appreciatively. “That is very kind of you, Aunt Beatrice.”
“Just remember who your favorite aunt is.” Several chuckles were heard in the room, the loudest of which came from Richard. Though Aunt Catherine had softened recently, it was not difficult to beat her in a game of favorites.
“My first order of business is to have you sell your commission. Will you be satisfied living as a gentleman, Richard?” asked Adélaïde.
“I will keep myself busy enough. But, had you not best take care of your business before worrying about me?”
Adélaïde said, “You do not seem to understand yet, my love. I can do both.”
“I doubt that. Besides, it is yours to do with as you please.”
“Though it pleases me to hear you say that, I do not think you need to worry so much. The sum is sufficient to live on comfortably for the remainder of our years.” Her eyes twinkled.
Richard could not express his doubts of that with so many listeners in the room. “On that point, I will have to blindly trust you.”
She shrugged. “Unless you do not think thirty thousand pounds sufficient.”
Father coughed, Mother exclaimed, and Richard wanted to strangle his bride-to-be.
“Why did you not say so earlier? I have been wrestling between passion and responsibility these past few minutes, and you could have put me out of my misery.”
Adélaïde raised her eyebrow coyly, “I wanted to make certain that the passion won.”
The more Richard thought about it, the more he warmed to the idea.
Chapter 33
They married early that winter.
Aunt Catherine, after hearing about her nemesis’ generous offering of a dowry, insisted that the wedding be held at Rosings. However, Mother felt it more appropriate that the lady who inspired the design of her front parlor should be married in it. In the end, Mother won, and Richard’s entire family, and all of Adélaïde’s joined them for the ceremony.
The first snow of the season sprinkled down in white, glistening flakes. Icicles strung from the trees and bushes outside the front parlor window. Everything looked bright and full of hope.
Surrounded by family, Richard’s heart was complete, as his eyes rested on his beautiful wife. She wore the very dress she had toiled over, the dress which had made him suspicious and caused him to spend so much time in her company.
Both Mrs. Darcy and Anne wore gowns which flowed suspiciously over where their waists should have been. It made Richard happy to see how attentive Darcy was to his Elizabeth. She had made him a complete man. They would stay in town during her confinement, at the insistence of Mr. Darcy, who glowed at the prospect of finally having a grandchild to grace the grounds of Pemberley. Where he wished for an heir to be born, Georgiana made no secret of her preference for a girl. Darcy was too happy to care one way or the other.
Luc, true to his theatrical origins, spared no comforts toward his wife and could be observed speaking to Anne’s hidden belly several times during the course of the day. Aunt Catherine had done her best to convince them to stay at Rosings, but instead, found herself residing with them in their newly rebuilt and furnished townhouse above Anne’s art school. Richard’s respect for Luc increased on observing how masterfully he kept peace and order in his household, without losing his patience… or his sanity.
Miss Mary stood next to Adélaïde. The stab wound had been nothing compared to the feisty girl’s tenacity and will to live. Fighting off infection and weakness from loss of blood, she had not parted from their side since. Her sister, Emily, had done much to secure fabric upon her removal from Miss Maven’s. After news had spread of Miss Maven’s treatment of her own family, and her underhanded dealings with her competition, she did not have much use for fabric anyway. She had retired to the coast, where she would no doubt try to reestablish herself. So long as Miss Maven left his girls alone, Richard did not care.
Aunt Beatrice and Sir ‘Francis’ were there to celebrate the joyous occasion. Richard would be eternally grateful to his uncle. It was he who had arranged for Richard to accompany Adélaïde and his sister in their coach from Rosings, thus affording Richard time with his green-eyed temptress.
Moving to the center of the room, he held up his glass of champagne, drawing everyone’s attention. “I propose we toast this momentous day.”
“Here, here!” boomed Father.
“To love,” said Darcy, lifting his glass and looking at his wife.
“To life,” said Anne, with a large grin at her husband.
“To fighting for your love… even when you thought she might be a spy,” chimed in Adélaïde with a sardonic smile which drew laughter throughout the room— except for Aunt Catherine, of course.
“I am well aware that I shall never live that down. However, you were— and you continue to be— well worth the struggle, mon chéri,” Richard said in his heavily British accented French.
“To the cousins,” he saluted. “May we all live each day happily-ever-after.”
THE END
Thank you
Thank you for reading Colonel Fitzwilliam’s Challenge. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it. Please click here to leave a review — I read all of them!
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About the Author
When Jennifer isn’t busy dreaming up new adventures for her favorite Austen characters, she is teaching English, reading, perfecting her doughnut recipe, or taking her kids to the park.
Her wish is to continue to write sweet romances with happy endings for years to come.
She currently lives in Ecuador with her husband and twins. All of them are fluent in Spanglish.
Right now, Jennifer is imagining a new way to bring our beloved Darcy and Lizzy together after a disastrous proposal and an untimely theft.
Other Books by Jennifer Joy
Historic
al Romances
Darcy’s Ultimatum: The Cousins Series, Book 1
The Colonel’s Challenge: The Cousins Series, Book 3
Earning Darcy’s Trust
Accusing Elizabeth
Love Never Fails
Win, Lose, or Darcy
The Honorable Mr. Darcy: A Meryton Mystery, Book 1
The Indomitable Miss Elizabeth: A Meryton Mystery, Book 2
The Inseparable Mr. and Mrs. Darcy: A Meryton Mystery, Book 3
Cozy Mysteries
Cabs, Cakes, and Corpses: Murder on the Equator, Book 1
Rum Raisin Revenge: Murder on the Equator, Book 2
Cold Case Crumble: Murder on the Equator, Book 3
Sweet Contemporary Romance
Written in the Stars: Starlight Terrace Proposals #1