Harvey looked at his brother with great pity. Choices had been made long ago. The die had been cast. “No, we have failed each other. I am sorry, Brother, but if you continue in this path, you will lose it all, except perhaps your money. What’s important to you, George? You had better think about it. Think about what you are doing before it’s too late. Jacta alea est. The die was cast, but it does not have to be cast a second time,” he said with great sorrow as he moved to leave.
When he reached for the door, George called out to him, “Harvey, when or if the time comes, I will have your support, won’t I?”
“Yes, George, you’ll have my support, or I would not have come. Your back is covered.” He put his hand on the doorknob and looked back one last time. “Goodbye, George.”
Harvey’s mind was full when he left Darcy House. …So, it was Anne’s memory of me that separated her from my brother, and here I thought it was his indifference, his inability to love. He moaned in agony. …That I should learn of this after all of these years! If only I could take that summer back, Anne…if only. I never thought my actions would affect anyone but me…but I was wrong.
~*~
After Harvey left, George sat and reflected on his brother’s words as he stroked his signet ring. …Harvey, I wanted to be there with Anne, but you were there—you were always there. If I had believed that she loved me, nothing would have kept me from her. I would have moved heaven and earth, but it was you, Harvey, not me, she loved. You, the idealistic fool, much like Fitzwilliam has become. A silent tear slid down the old man’s cheek.
As to his brother’s other concern, George knew about that, too. He’d always known every beat of Pemberley’s heart, and he’d already taken measures to stop his ‘old friend’. He would give him enough rope to hang himself.
George was gambling that the effort of the conspirators would last past the six month due date on the loan he had advanced his brother-in-law and that he would be able to manipulate the stock prices into a temporary fall, forcing Harry to sell at a loss, thus financially ruining him. Harry had not a clue that George was watching him. Five hundred years of family history had taught George Darcy that you keep your friends close and your enemies even closer.
George glanced to the side. He felt a strange presence and thought he had caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. A woman’s silhouette? It was white and fleeting…strange. He winced in pain and slipped a pill under his tongue.
Chapter Thirty-two
…a woman’s mind is never very far from…
After a grueling five week-long tour of business and contract negotiation, David Darcy was finally back in London. Walking into the large executive complex of Pemberley, he wiped his brow. His father had left him a voice mail on his mobile, demanding his presence in his office as soon as he arrived. Fatigue from the long flights and laborious negotiations were beginning to take its toll. …I’m exhausted. I wonder why Father is so adamant to see me. He wouldn’t even allow me to return home first. Well, I’ll shower in my executive flat and get to him as quickly as I can. From the sound of his voice, it must be urgent.
As soon as he could, he headed directly for his father’s office. “Good afternoon, Betty. I understand my father wants to see me. Is he available now?”
“I believe he is,” she said in a terse tone. “He’s been like a bear with a sore paw all morning. I have no idea what it’s about, but I have to tell you he is not in a good mood. I’d be careful if I were you.” She picked up the interoffice phone to inform Mr. Darcy that David was waiting outside.
“Send him in!” barked George Darcy.
“Good grief! I wonder what I’ve done now.” David rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“I don’t know, but you’d better go in and face your inquisition. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.”
“You want to bet?” David smiled as he strolled towards the door. He entered cautiously to find his father pacing back and forth, chewing on a cigar.
“Well, don’t just stand there looking like an arse. Come in! We’ve got to talk—and I want answers—not excuses.” Mr. Darcy walked back to his desk and took his seat.
David followed and took the one across from his father.
“So what is the problem that has you all up in arms?”
“The problem?” Mr. Darcy asked, throwing a copy of The Nashville Tennessean, The Knoxville Sentinel, and The Atlanta Journal and Constitution across his desk. “How long have you known about this?”
David picked up the papers, closely examining each one. The Tennessean showed a very pregnant Liddy Fanning being escorted into the U.S. Federal Courthouse in Nashville, Tennessee by her uncle, Robert Bennett, and a man David had never seen before. The Atlanta Journal and Constitution had the headline caption Largest Drug Ring in the Southeast Found in Plateau County, Tennessee, and The Knoxville Sentinel’s headline read Jackie Lee Nunley Now Indicted on Murder Charges.
Perusing the articles, David noted an assortment of quotes from various townspeople and family members concerning Miss Fanning and the Bennett family in general, and then he saw it. Fitzwilliam’s name was mentioned alongside Elizabeth’s. He released a heavy sigh and folded the papers, placing them back on his father’s desk.
Mr. Darcy pinned his son to his chair as he asked once again. “How long have you known?”
David dropped his gaze and then glanced off to the side. His body was racked with fatigue, but he had to find the strength to face his father. “Since before the wedding.”
“And you didn’t bother tell me! You allowed me to find out through the newspapers and Blakely?”
David could only look at him. He knew that he had no answer that would satisfy his father.
His father nodded. “Yes, I’ve had my top public relations man in America since January. Did you really think I would simply let your brother go without taking measures to find out what he was getting himself into and to protect him, should it come to that?”
David sat there, his jaw clenched hard as stone, staring at his father, unsure of what, if anything, to say. He knew he was in trouble.
Mr. Darcy leaned over his desk. “Your loyalty lies with your brother, doesn’t it? Well, that’s very admirable of you. It serves you both well, but it’s time the two of you got on board and put your loyalty where it really belongs—with this family and Pemberley! The article on the fourth page of the Atlanta paper has a nice journalistic portrait of the Bennett family, complete with mention of the new Mrs. Darcy and her marriage to your brother… The heir to the Pemberley Conglomerate based in London, England.”
David closed his eyes and shook his head. He was physically exhausted, and now he was mentally shattered. “Father, I don’t know what to say. I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”
“Wouldn’t come to this, you say? I warned your brother. These people are not polished. They have no regard for decorum or civilized behavior. Look at that strumpet! Pregnant by the worst sort of rubbish.”
“Father, she’s only a cousin. I can assure you that the Bennetts are good people. Every family has a black sheep. We’ve certainly had ours. Bloody hell, I’m a black sheep—”
“Not like them!” Mr. Darcy growled. “I’ve had this family under investigation for months. It was about time I took a more direct interest in the private lives of my sons. Would you like to know what I have found out?”
David remained silent, glaring at his father.
“I can see that you still wish to defy me. Well, I’m going to tell you anyway. This Robert Bennett appears to be a small town country lawyer, a country nobody, but don’t be fooled by that illusion. He is a graduate of the Citadel, class of 1981, along with his good friend here,” George said as he stabbed the picture on the cover of the Tennessean with his forefinger. “Samuel Mason Armstrong, who, I might add, is the man representing that tart—their cousin. They later attended Harvard Law School together and then joined the American Navy.”
Mr. Dar
cy reached in his desk and pulled out a folder. He scanned down a written synopsis before resuming. “Bennett became an officer in the Navy SEALs whilst Armstrong was accepted into the Judge Advocacy General’s Corp. Armstrong was instrumental in pulling Bennett’s arse out of a scandal in 1991 when he was charged with being negligent in duty concerning his command. It seems that one of his officers snapped under pressure, opening fire on friendly forces he mistook for the enemy. His excuse was the death of two of his comrades the day before.”
Seizing the opportunity, David quickly responded, “Father, that was beyond his control—”
“Beyond his control! He was derelict in duty. It was his job and responsibility to see that his men were properly trained and did not snap under stress. The Navy SEALs are supposed to be one of the elite forces of the American military. They don’t crack under pressure!” His father paused, studying his son. “David, in war, as in business, if someone under your authority makes a mistake, it is you who is ultimately responsible. You must answer to the board of directors—not the minion under you who failed or made a mistake in judgment. Mistakes cost money, and in this case, lives. That’s what I am trying to get through to you and your brother—responsibility, obligation, and duty!” He pounded his fist with each word.
David swallowed hard. Would his father’s never-ending barrage ever let up? Apparently not!
Putting on his glasses, George picked up the report and traced his finger down, looking for a particular item. “Ah, here it is. Fitzwilliam was correct on both accounts. They are related to us, though distantly, and they did descend from an English earl, but their family has been riddled with scandal from the 18th century to the present. The Bennet who left England was much like you and Fitzwilliam—a renegade.” George flipped the page and picked up where he left off. “During the 19th century, the Bennetts were involved in the distilling of illegal whiskey on their plantation. They were also involved in the first court case in Plateau County. Seems as if one of them was caught up in a land swindling scheme.” George glanced up and cleared his throat. Adjusting his glasses, he continued. “In the 20th century one of their relations was caught smuggling illegal whiskey in meat carcasses into Alabama and Georgia during the American Prohibition. That particular Bennett’s sons now operate a prosperous distillery in Southern Kentucky, not more than fifty miles from the family farm. They evaded scandal for the rest of the 20th century, but they have more than made up for it in the twenty-first.”
David was stunned at the lengths his father had gone to.
“But that’s not all I have been investigating. I’ve been investigating you, as well.”
David sat up straight. How dare his father invade his privacy!
“Don’t look so taken aback, David Jamison. Did you really think I would not keep up with you as well as your brother? Well, I happen to know what you’ve been doing both here in London and abroad. And if you think that I don’t know about your affair with James Lawton’s daughter, you can think again.” A wide grin spread across Mr. Darcy’s face. “At least you have discriminating taste for once, or perhaps you took my advice about using your charm. All I can say is that in this instance, I don’t disapprove. You have shown proper judgment in both the lady and in being circumspect. I knew her father. You and Ms. Lawton are two of a kind. Marry her if it pleases you.”
“Well, I’m glad I meet with your approval and have your blessing, Father, but why are you investigating me? I am not your chosen heir.” David’s voice dripped with malice indignation.
“David, don’t get saucy with me and drop that derisive tone from your voice. I have every right to know what my sons are doing—including you. I employ the best PR staff in the business, and they are paid well for what they do. They are on top of things, putting out more fires than you will ever know of, always one step ahead of the press, suppressing what I don’t want known and releasing what I do.”
David marveled in disbelief. “Father, no matter what you do or who you pay, this story cannot be contained. These papers are merely days old. In a matter of days this will explode in Britain. The paparazzi will be all over Tennessee and will cause uproar at the university and within the community where Fitzwilliam lives.”
David rose to his feet and stormed out of his father’s office, slamming the door in anger—anger at his father for probing into his personal life and anger with what he knew was to come in the following weeks. He rubbed his brow as pressure built in his chest. He needed to see Sandra tonight. He needed sex—sex with no strings attached and no nagging feelings of doubt. He released a hard breath. He also needed to ring Cecilia concerning their pending date.
~*~
The cigar abandoned, Mr. Darcy slumped back in his chair and poured himself a stiff drink, speaking out loud to someone only he could see.
“Anne…Anne, what am I going to do? They won’t listen to me. I’m only trying to protect them—them and Pemberley. It’s for them, Anne. Can they not see that? I love them—they are all I have left… all I have left…” He finished his drink, sitting there staring off into nothing, looking at a woman visible only to him.
~*~
As David appeared, Mrs. Foulkes glanced up. “I guess it was that bad after all.”
“You have no idea,” he retorted, storming past her desk towards the lift. Tonight, he would not be going home, and he just might bring Sandra back here to his flat right under his father’s nose. He’d be discreet all right, just as his father demanded, but he would take what he wanted, from whomever he wanted, whenever he wanted it, his father be damned!
His first order of business was to ring Sandra, and then he would make a quick call to Cecilia, but right now, Cecilia was the last thing he wanted on his mind. He also needed to call his brother and alert him to what was happening, but that he would take care of tomorrow. Stepping out of the lift, he moved towards the entry of his flat as he glanced at his watch. …Four thirty in the afternoon. This should give me ample time to take care of my personal business and possibly take a nap.
Once inside, he eyed the bed in the middle of the room. It looked tempting, but before he could rest, he had business to take care of. Pulling himself together, he staggered over to the bed and plopped down. Taking out his mobile, he quickly located Sandra’s number.
“David?”
“Sandra, how have you been, love?”
“I’ve been fine, but it’s been a while since I heard from you. January I believe. Where have you been?”
“I’ve been busy with business affairs in Asia and Eastern Europe. I just got back into London today.” He paused for a second, frowning. He knew he must be very tired as he was having trouble concentrating. “Sandra, love, could you see me tonight? It’s been a long time… and I’ve had a rough day… I really need to see you… tonight.” It was the only time he could recall when he appeared to beg, but he really did need her or somebody.
“Sure, David. I’m working until midnight. Do you want to meet me at my flat?”
“No, I’ll pick you up. You’re coming here tonight—to my flat. Where are you working?”
“At the Pink Palace. David, are you sure? That’s right under your Father’s nose. Do you think it wise?”
“Why not? Besides, I don’t care. It will be late, and I’ll be discreet” …just like him. David sneered, “I’ll pick you up at half past midnight. Look for my Alfa Romeo outside. I may have to pull around a few times, but look for me.”
“Ooh David, the red Spider 8c! Won’t all my friends think I’m cool?”
David rolled his eyes. “No! Don’t tell anyone. I don’t need the paparazzi following us. If you want to continue seeing me, you’ll have to be circumspect. I can’t afford to take chances anymore.”
“Okay, love. I’ll be good, and I’ll see you after work. And David…I’ve missed you, too.”
Sliding his phone shut, he fell back on his bed and wearily closed his eyes, pushing his unsettling thoughts deep into the back of his mind. Exhausted
from his long flight and all that had happened between himself and his father, he drifted off to sleep.
It was nine o’clock when David finally woke up, reality slowly creeping back into focus. He needed to make his call and then get something to eat before picking up Sandra. Rummaging through his wallet, he located Cecilia’s card. He turned it over and looked at her elegant penmanship. He smiled. Her handwriting was beautiful—just like her.
Picking up his mobile, he slid it open and then hesitated. He’d been struggling with his feelings for several weeks now. There had been numerous times he’d picked up his mobile to call, but hadn’t. The Magnolia Festival was in just over a week. He couldn’t wait any longer. He had to call, but he was still struggling with whether or not he would attend. Thinking about what he would say, he reflected on what he was afraid of.
His answer was complex. He was afraid of a feeling he’d never experienced before, and afraid that he might possibly be falling in love with her. Cecilia was so different from Sandra. Both were beautiful, but with Sandra, he had no concerns, yet with Cecilia, he had every concern. She was gorgeous, intelligent, and kept him on his guard every minute he was with her. She was the female version of himself—sharp and cunning! He knew he shouldn’t keep seeing her. If he did, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to pull away.
He sighed. He probably wouldn’t even care in the short term, but in the long-term? No, he couldn’t go. It would be best if he not attend. He’d think of something to say. Teetering on the edge of what that might be, he keyed in her number.
The Cumberland Plateau Page 41