The Cumberland Plateau

by Mary K. Baxley

  “Oh, God, not that again.” Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes as they descended the stairs. “Well, my mind is made up, and there is no chance in hell I’m going to change it. I intend to marry Elizabeth and no one else.”

  “I hear you, Brother,” David said sympathetically. “I’ll do all I can.”

  When they approached the study, they found their father pacing the entrance in a somber mood.

  “Ah, there you are. Come in and take a seat. It’s good to have you home, Fitzwilliam.” Eyeing his son closely, Mr. Darcy remarked, “I see you haven’t been overeating. Would you like a glass of port or brandy?” He glanced between the two as they entered.

  “Neither, thank you,” they both replied.

  Ignoring them, he poured three brandies. “I want you to drink with me.” He pushed two in their direction. “I have several things we need to discuss. I’ll set the agenda. After dinner, we’ll begin our discussion in earnest.”

  Mr. Darcy took his place behind his large, imposing desk as he motioned for his sons to have a seat. Clearing his throat, he took a rather large sip of brandy. “I don’t have time for idle chit chat, therefore I’ll come straight to the point. We need to discuss your future and what I expect from you. First of all, there is the business. Both of you currently sit on the board of directors and are my second and third in command.” He paused for another sip of brandy, and then turned his attention towards his oldest son. “Fitzwilliam, I wish you had not gone on sabbatical. The press has noticed your absence, and there is speculation. I’ve calmed it for now, but I need you home.” Moving his attention to his younger son, he asked, “By the way, David, what about the coffee deal? Tell me about it.”

  David took a deep breath. “I returned with it last week. It should have reached your desk by now.”

  “Yes, I saw it.” Mr. Darcy frowned. “That’s the problem. I’m concerned about the price. Explain!”

  David shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I got the contract, just not at the price you wanted. However, I did get a better price than our competitors. Ms. Lawton is—”

  “Damn it, David! That’s not what I asked.” He released an exasperated breath. “I know Lawton is a bitch and a rather forthright and shrewd businesswoman, but couldn’t you use some of your charm on that Southern Belle? You don’t mind using it on women who do not matter.” George Darcy rubbed his temple in irritation.

  Fitzwilliam glanced at David with a quizzical brow.

  David simply rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath.

  “The material point, Sons, is this. I want tighter controls on efficiency with more detail paid to profit margins. Since the markets are highly competitive, we need to get more of the share.” Shifting his gaze back to David, Mr. Darcy didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll have to look over that coffee contract and get back with you on it.”

  George leaned back in his chair with a weary sigh. “Now, more importantly, to corporate business. As you know, I will be sixty-three in August, and since I would like to take some time for myself, I will soon be turning everything over to the two of you.” He lifted his glass for another drink. “Fitzwilliam, you are to be Chairman of the Board and CEO over all of it, and David, you are to be president and vice chairman, unless something should happen to your brother, in which case you will become CEO and chairman.” With a brief hesitation, he looked from one to the other. “I’m tired, boys. I want to retire. Therefore, I would like to begin the process of turning the business over to the two of you when Fitzwilliam comes back from America this summer.

  “And that leads me to the next point I wish to discuss—family business,” he paused, “or rather, duty and responsibility. Boys, I want to see the next generation of Darcys. I want a grandson, and I want one before I am too old to care.” Turning to Fitzwilliam, he continued. “Fitzwilliam, you are thirty-two years old. I want you married within the coming year, but absolutely not to some jumped-up strumpet from lower society, or God forbid, an American. You have a duty to fulfill.” His eyes briefly locked with his oldest son before proceeding to his younger. “And David, that includes you as well. I want you married. Is that understood?!”

  David glared. “Father, I have no prospects for marriage, and I don’t see any in the foreseeable future. Quite frankly, I’m not at all interested.”

  Completely ignoring David’s comment, George affirmed, “David, at twenty-eight, you have time yet, but I will have you married and a child produced—and I don’t want any bastards.” His father’s eyes narrowed sharply. “Do you understand me?!”

  David held his father’s piercing gaze. “There will be no bastards!”

  “Well then,” Mr. Darcy raised his glass. “I’m glad we understand one another.”

  Returning his attention to his older son, he retorted, “And I take it there will be none from you, either. I trust you have learnt your lesson.”

  Fitzwilliam’s features darkened as he stared back at his father. …He never forgets, does he… nor will he let me.

  Ignoring his son’s contemptuous look, George pressed on. “Now, Fitzwilliam, I would like to announce your engagement to Anne this month. Hilda and I have discussed it, Anne has agreed, and I think it is a wise move. It will unite our business interest with Vanderburgh Banking, making us unstoppable in the global economy. You can marry when you return to England this summer,” he stated mater-of-factly.

  The color drained from Fitzwilliam’s face as he leaned forward. “Wait a minute, Father. I’m not engaged to Anne, nor do I have any plans to be. When I marry, my wife will be of my own choosing—someone whom I love. You do understand that, don’t you?”

  George glowered. “Damn it, Fitzwilliam! What the bloody hell does love have to do with it? We’re talking about an international business concerning billions.”

  “Father, you did love Mother, didn’t you? I know she loved you. I mean, you do understand, don’t you?” Fitzwilliam bit back.

  Mr. Darcy paused for a moment, blinking, as if taken by complete surprise at the mention of his wife.

  David squirmed in his seat, glancing between his brother and the floor. He wondered how his older brother could be so naïve at times not to know how things worked in this family. Though no one had ever told him, David knew how things had been with his mother and father. David’s jaw tightened as he caught the look in his father’s eye.

  “Fitzwilliam, I married your mother for reasons that are my own. Love is a state of mind. It is something you decide to do. You can decide to love Anne, and if you do not, well, you know what to do about it. I didn’t neglect your education that much, did I?” His eyes narrowed. “Or do I need to take my thirty-two-year old son aside for further education?”

  “No, Father, you didn’t neglect my education,” Fitzwilliam replied in a deliberately cool tone, holding his temper in check, “but I will not marry Anne.”

  George slammed his glass down. “We’ll talk about this later. I will see you at dinner, seven o’clock sharp. Off you go.” Mr. Darcy rubbed his brow with one hand, dismissing his sons with the other.

  Fitzwilliam shot from his seat and left the study in a fury, followed close behind by his brother. They briskly walked towards the library, vaguely aware of servants scampering out of their way. Fitzwilliam was highly incensed. David was used to it. As they entered the room and closed the door, David twisted the lock and turned to his brother.

  “I’m sorry about that little experience with Father. I can’t imagine being married to that social-climbing step-cousin of ours. Anne doesn’t even have a sweet disposition.” David shuddered, pouring them both a stiff drink. “Later tonight, I want you to tell me all about Elizabeth, but first we need to discuss Father,” he said, taking a rather large drink of his Scotch. “I’m also sorry you had to hear about Mother in that insulting manner. I figured it out years ago that there was not much, if any, love between them. Their marriage was a sham—a business contract on his part, a means for him to acquire Winthrop Publishing.” David gave hi
s brother a pointed look. “Although I think she did love him, and I know she loved us. Mother was the only good thing we ever had.”

  David’s jaw hardened as he looked away. He would never reveal it to anyone, but the memories of his mother’s tragic life haunted him, and the pain of it bothered him to this very day. The only good memories he had were of his times together with his brother and, to some extent, his sister, Georgiana. His mother had tried, for the sake of her children, to hide her pain, but David had seen it.

  Restless, David began to walk the floor. “Fitzwilliam,” he glanced at his brother, “do you remember when we were boys back at Pemberley? How we used to play and horse around all over the countryside? Those were the good years, but then Mum died, and we had to go away to school. You seemed to be absorbed in your books and learning, whilst I found other amusements. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy books and such. It’s just that you were the romantic, whilst I was the practical one.” Turning to his brother, his eyes locked with Fitzwilliam’s. “How does it feel to know that we were the products of a business contract—an heir and a spare?” he smirked, his words ripe with sarcasm. “The whole process sickens me. Father kept mistresses, you know? I’ve even met a few. I actually liked one of them, but all they ever were to him was something for his enjoyment. And Fitzwilliam,” he hesitated, “he even kept them when Mother was alive. Why do you think she stayed at Pemberley while he stayed here in London? It was because she knew.” David’s lips twisted in a bitter smile.

  Fitzwilliam leaned against the chimneypiece, his back to David. “And you think I didn’t know?” He spun around. “Of course I knew! Just because I never discussed it with you doesn’t mean I didn’t know. I have ears that heard and eyes that saw. I used to stand outside her bedroom door when I was a child, listening to her muffled cries. Sometimes I would slip inside and run to her. She would pull me up onto her bed, and we would talk. She would tell me that she was just being silly, and that I shouldn’t worry. Sometimes I would ring for tea because a good cup of tea comforted her whilst we talked. I remember one time in particular that was rather painful.” Fitzwilliam stiffened. “After Father had left from visiting one holiday, I asked her why he didn’t live with us. I’ll never forget the expression on her face as her smile faded away, replaced by pain. I never asked again.” Fitzwilliam gulped his drink and paced the room, his mood now dark and raw.

  Glancing at his brother, he continued. “Remember the time when Mum was pregnant with Georgiana? You were almost six, and I was ten. Mother was in her eighth month, and it was mine and Father’s birthday. We had all come to London to surprise him. Mother wanted us to celebrate together. Do you remember?”

  David cringed. “I remember.”

  Fitzwilliam walked over to the window and propped his shoulder against the frame, glancing out as if in a daze. The muscles in his jaw hardened and a grim smile overcame his countenance. “Mrs. Beasley took you to your room whilst Mum and I went to his chamber to find him. There was a woman’s laughter coming from his room, so Mum immediately sent me away, only I didn’t go. I hid in the servants’ hall to watch. She opened the door to find Father in bed with his mistress, celebrating his birthday. Mother was devastated. She gathered us up, and we returned to Pemberley immediately.” Fitzwilliam scornfully laughed. “It should have been a clue to her when the servants tried to keep us from the family wing, and perhaps it was. I don’t know. All I know is that I was so angry I wanted to kill him!” Fitzwilliam balled his fists and pushed away from the window, turning sharply on his heel. “So don’t tell me I don’t know. The difference between us is that I wish to forget it. If I don’t, I will never be able to forgive him.”

  Breathing deeply, he glanced at his brother and asked, “But what about us? What kind of men will we be? I, for one, will not be anything like him. I intend to cherish my wife and children. It’s my way of making it up to Mother.” He looked his brother directly in the eye and pressed the issue. “What about you? What choices will you make?”

  David folded his hands behind his back and began to pace anew, glancing between his brother and the vast breadth of the room as he walked. What did he think? He smirked. Trouble was, he didn’t. He only existed from day to day, his ability to love and care—dead, stone cold long ago. Cold as a winter’s chill on a warm summer’s day. It had died a slow, lingering death while watching his mother and father in his formative years. David laughed silently. …It died the day my mother died. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

  “Choices? Oh, I know I’m no better than him. That’s why everyone I’ve ever been involved with knew where they stood up front. And if I even suspect anyone is coming close to forming an attachment, I drop them, just like that.” He snapped his fingers with a loud click. “Unlike you, I have no desire for love or marriage, and I make that very clear. If I wasn’t absolutely in love with a woman, I couldn’t remain faithful. That’s why a marriage is out of the question for me. I can’t commit any more than Father could, but the difference is I don’t want to hurt anyone—especially children. That’s why I have chosen to remain single and childless. I’m just like him in every respect, except one—I am no adulterer.” David paused and sipped his drink.

  “So you see, Brother, whilst you were off gaining more degrees and expanding your mind with higher education, I’ve been here learning from the best in the business,” he laughed ironically, “but what I won’t do is enter into a loveless marriage that would condemn one or more children to the loneliness we’ve had to endure ever since we were old enough to understand. That’s the choice I’ve made,” David said, meeting his brother’s stare with a sharp nod.

  “David, I’m not as idealistic as you think. I’ve had my share of women, even if it hasn’t been for a while, but to me it was cold and empty after what—ten seconds of ephemeral pleasure. No,” he shook his head. “I don’t want a mistress, a live-in, or an arranged marriage. If I can’t have what I want, then I’ll take nothing. That’s why I am determined to marry Elizabeth, even if I lose everything because of it. If Edward could give up the crown for Wallis Simpson, then I can give up my inheritance for Elizabeth,” he said, looking directly at his brother. “David, don’t give up totally on marriage. There is a woman out there somewhere for you, and when you find her, you’ll find that everything you currently think will change.”

  David laughed. “No, you misunderstand me. I don’t want a woman, or at least not a wife. As I’ve told you, I probably wouldn’t be any better of a husband than Father was. It would take one bloody hell of a woman to turn my head. She would have to be just like me to survive, and I don’t think anyone like that exists,” he smirked. “Someday, I might take a mistress, but certainly not a wife.”

  Pulling in a deep breath, he changed the subject. “Now, as far as your inheritance, I don’t think it will come to that. After all, he’d have to leave it all to me, and we both know how he feels about that.” They both laughed. “I’m just like him, only since I don’t hide it, it disgusts him. You see, he can’t stand to see himself in the light of day. I’m a shrewd business negotiator, I drive a hard bargain, and I can be as cold-hearted and ruthless as I need to be—just like him. Nothing gets to me. I am what I am, and I don’t hide it, nor do I give a damn what some society twit thinks of me. I have enough money that I don’t have to court their good opinion.”

  “Well,” Fitzwilliam shrugged as he pushed away from the window, “be that as it may. However, I do think Father has a heart somewhere. I remember times when he seemed happy with Mother, and us, too. There was once tenderness there, but then something changed. I don’t remember him being at Pemberley much when I was little, but when he was there, he would play with me. And you may not remember it, but he played with you, too. Mother would laugh, and so would he. The way he would look at her, I could have sworn there was affection there, but then he would always leave, and she would become sad again. Then, later, when we were older, all of that changed. I don’t understand what hap
pened between the two of them. But when he came, they would fight. Those are the times you remember, but David, it wasn’t always that way.”

  “That may very well be, but except for the summer before Mother died, I never saw any of what you’ve just described. Perhaps the change, as you call it, had to do with his mistress. That’ll do it every time,” David said with a sharp nod. “The man is incapable of love. Much like me, I’m afraid.”

  “Well, nevertheless, I have a Plan B. I will evaluate my finances to see exactly what I’m worth. Currently, I think I have £15 million—probably more.” He sighed as he rubbed his forehead. “Father has a way of draining a person. The flight was tiresome, and I need some rest. I’m going upstairs. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  “All right. I think I’ll stay here and read.”

  “What? You read a book? Since when?”

  “Since J.K. Rowling. I’m trying to finish the latest book.” David laughed. “You go and rest. I’ll see you at seven.”

  ~*~

  That evening dinner was quiet and solemn. George Darcy sat at his usual place at the head of the table with Fitzwilliam to his right and David to his left. As they sat eating in silence, George studied his sons, analyzing them carefully. He shook his head. David possessed the ability and business savvy to run Pemberley all on his own, but he lacked the moral fortitude. David was a loose cannon with no regard for discretion.

  George took a sip of wine and turned his eyes upon his older son. Fitzwilliam was soft, lacking in drive and ambition, or so it outwardly appeared. But was he really? No, George didn’t think so. Fitzwilliam possessed a keen intellect with a sharp, well-honed, calculating mind, able to think and respond with speed and accuracy. He didn’t often show it, but George had seen it when they’d crossed intellectual swords.