In spite of the negative publicity, Fitzwilliam and his team trudged on, working late into the night and sometimes around the clock. The early morning strategy planning sessions went well, so much so that finally they had a loose plan of how they would proceed. William had proven to be invaluable to Fitzwilliam, filling in the gaps of uncertainty, and Thomas had arranged a meeting between Fitzwilliam and his aunt. If the meeting went well, he would have the money he needed.
Looking at the clock on the wall, Fitzwilliam poured himself a glass of mineral water. Hilda would be here in fifteen minutes. As he sipped his drink, his mind drifted to Elizabeth.
…I’m grateful she isn’t here to see that latest article in the tabloids. When will it stop? They’ve gone back seventy years to show a connection between illegal whiskey during prohibition and marijuana distribution, leading one to the conclusion that her entire family has been involved in vice as far back as the 1850s. Have they nothing better to do? Why can’t they find a story with Lord Weddington or Westbury? The trial is over. When will they let this drop?
Fitzwilliam felt the crush of all that was coming down upon him as if the weight of the world were upon his shoulders. His dad…the will… and now the tabloids. He couldn’t deal with one more thing. It was consuming him. The bitter memories, the resentment, the regret, and the maddening thought of what was being done to his precious wife tore at his very soul. He only prayed she didn’t turn on the television set. Her world had been so unlike his own, and the thought of her being torn to bits was more than he could take, especially because of him. Lost in contemplation, he almost didn’t hear the knock at the door. He glanced up just in time to see his aunt step through the threshold.
“Fitzwilliam, I’m here a little early. I hope I’m not intruding on your thoughts. You had such a look of intense concentration.”
“Not at all, Aunt Hilda. Won’t you come in and sit down?” he said, rising from his chair to greet her.
She took the offered seat and promptly asked, “You wanted to see me. I presume you need money. Am I correct?”
He smiled. His aunt didn’t miss a thing. “You’re always very perceptive and to the point. Yes, I do.”
“I don’t believe in wasting time. Time is money, and I don’t waste either. How much do you need? Ten billion? Twenty? Or is it thirty?”
He laughed. “Is it that easy? I need seventeen billion to buy—”
“I know what you need it for. I’ve only been waiting for you to ring me. I told you the day the will was read to ring me up. I’ve already held negotiations with several large bankers in case you needed more than my bank could lend. I have up to £20 billion secured with more promised if you need it. I can have the money for you in a matter of days, but there is one stipulation.” She paused to look him directly in the eye. “I must be allowed my say. I was your father’s financial advisor, and I intend to be yours. I want to oversee the financial aspect of this. That means I am to be invited to all the meetings. You will need my expertise. Your uncle has approached me for similar help, but I’ve been stalling him until I heard from you. I have no intention of helping him, but neither did I want him going elsewhere—that is, not until the last possible minute. It will throw him off center for the time being. I have the capacity to cut him off at the knees. He will not obtain a loan unless I approve it.”
“You never cease to amaze me, Hilda. The next meeting is at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. I have a briefing with Thomas in twenty minutes, but we’ll begin in earnest tomorrow.”
“I’ll be there. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m a very busy woman. Until tomorrow.” She extended her hand with a smile as she rose from her seat.
“Until tomorrow then,” he said shaking the proffered hand. Walking her to the door, he said goodbye and placed a kiss upon her cheek. Having secured the loan, only one more task remained, and that would soon be accomplished, too… he hoped.
Gathering the rough draft of his proposal for his meeting with Uncle Harvey and his solicitor, he left his office and headed for Metcalf’s with a smile.
~*~
Although Fitzwilliam had called her a week ago, Elizabeth had not heard from him since, causing her to become concerned, so she called Pemberley’s corporate office.
“Fitzwilliam Darcy’s office, Mrs. Foulkes speaking.”
“Mrs. Foulkes, this is Elizabeth Darcy, Fitzwilliam’s wife, I would like to speak with my husband, please.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Darcy, but Mr. Darcy is in a meeting and cannot be disturbed. May I take a message?”
“Yes, tell him to call me as soon as he can.”
“I’ll give him the message, Mrs. Darcy.”
~*~
Fitzwilliam’s afternoon meeting lasted late into the evening before they broke for dinner. When he saw the message from Mrs. Foulkes that Elizabeth had called earlier in the day, he pushed it aside, feeling there was no time for a lengthy conversation, which he knew was what she expected. He and William sent out for dinner while they continued poring over the latest Statistical Review of World Energy report for Brit Am, breaking only to eat as they worked late into the night.
It was three a.m. when he picked up the note and glanced over to his mobile. There was no time to call. Besides, he was too tired, and her class would start in ten minutes. He would call her later. She would understand that he had to have some sleep.
~*~
Two weeks had passed since he had slept in his own bed at Darcy House. Instead, he used his corporate executive flat at Pemberley to sleep and shower while his valet, Watson, kept him supplied in clean clothes, along with whatever else he needed.
Elizabeth had emailed him, but he only answered her in the most cursory way, never responding in any detail. Except for the loan, there was nothing to tell her other than to reassure her of his love. With one crisis after another, he didn’t have time to compose a lengthy message. He knew he should call her, but he also knew she would want to talk for more than a few minutes, which was all he could spare. Finally, she called again. This time he pushed his work aside and took her call in his office.
“Fitzwilliam, why didn’t you return my call the other day? I left a message. Didn’t you get it?”
“Yes, I got it.” He released a weary sigh. “Elizabeth, I’ve been working around the clock. I simply haven’t had the time to call. I’m trying to understand the intricate workings of the company so that I can assess Pemberley’s status from an informed position. In fact, I’m going over one of the operations reports right now.”
“Does it consume you so much that you can’t talk to me?”
“Actually, yes, it is all-consuming. I have so much to do and so little time in which to do it.”
“Can you not spare a few minutes for me?”
He drew in a deep, measured breath. “Liz, please, I know I should’ve called, but I’ve been too busy and too exhausted. I have no news to tell you other than I’m working on things. If I don’t call, you’ll simply have to trust me. Have a little faith in me. You must understand my position.”
“Fitzwilliam, I do have faith in you, but I need to hear your voice every once in a while to remind me I still have a husband.”
“I’m sorry, darling. I’ll try and do better, but you’ll simply have to be patient. I love you more than anything. You know that,” he reassured. “What I’m doing isn’t just for me, but for us and our future son. When all this is over, we’ll be together and work on conceiving that son.”
“When will it be over? I want it over soon. I want us to be together again.”
“I don’t know, darling. I don’t know.” Glancing at the wall clock, he realized that time was slipping away. “Liz, I have to go. I’m already late for my next meeting. I’ll ring you when I have something notable to tell you. At this point there’s nothing new that I haven’t already told you in my emails. You know I love you, but I’ve got to go. Please try and understand. Darling, I love you.”
“But, Fitzwilliam…”
Click.
Chapter Thirty-eight
…I liked you better when it was just you and me—a man and a woman in love…
Everywhere the brothers went, they were swamped by news reporters bombarding them with questions. Weeks had gone by and June approached. Stress from the day-to-day worries had begun to take its toll on Elizabeth, causing her to become severely ill with bouts of nausea. Sick and weak from her last episode in the bathroom, Elizabeth sat in front of the TV in their bedroom watching the latest news from London on CNN.
“There’s Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy now. Mr. Darcy, can we have a word with you? Is it true that Pemberley’s board of directors is concerned that you are not as dedicated to the business as your late father was?”
“No comment.” Fitzwilliam continued walking.
“Mr. Darcy, there are many conflicting stories in the press of late. Is there any truth to the rumors circulating that you have an American wife and that your father hid your marriage to this American woman?”
“No comment.”
“Mr. Darcy, is it true that your late father threatened to disown you over the alleged American marriage? Were you living with her or was she your wife? Several of your family members are saying there is no truth to the tabloid stories while others are saying there is. Your family is yet to make an official statement either to the marriage or the rumored drug connection. Are you married, or are you not?”
Finally, Fitzwilliam turned and faced the reporter with an angry retort. “My marital status is my own business. I have nothing further to say on the subject. Now if you would like to discuss the situation of Pemberley, I would be more than happy to answer your questions.”
“What? I can’t believe this!” Elizabeth yelled at the flat screen.
The attempted interview shifted to matters pertaining to the corporate struggle, but Elizabeth paid no attention. Watching the news reporter fire question after question at her husband had caused her to become sick to her stomach once again. She barely made it to the bathroom, where she fell to the floor.
After violently purging her stomach, dark thoughts plagued her mind. …Why did that reporter say our marriage was a rumor? Why didn’t Fitzwilliam refute it? And why doesn’t he call me? Why does he let me watch this drivel and not give me reassurance? What is wrong? I know he said he would call when he could, but it’s been a week since we last talked!
Once she had rested, Elizabeth called him, and again, he didn’t take her call. Mrs. Foulkes told her he would call later that night. Again, he was late for a meeting. As she hung up the phone, a lingering uncertainty began to intensify.
That night at midnight, London time, and six o’clock Middle Tennessee time, he called.
“Elizabeth, I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier. I’ve had a tough day—no, it’s been a tough week. I’m utterly shattered.”
“I’m sorry about your day, but I’ve had a rough day, too. I saw that interview with you on CNN, and it upset me greatly. Why does that man think our marriage is a rumor?”
He grimaced. “Elizabeth, I can explain everything. It’s not what you think.”
“Oh, and just what do I think? You go off to England, leave me here, and then you call sporadically. I’m here all alone. Jane and Charles have gone to Europe, and Robert and Tana are so heavily involved with my cousin that they barely notice I’m still alive. Liddy goes before the judge next week. She had her baby, a little girl, a week ago. She’ll be going to prison as soon as she’s recovered. So, things are stressful here, too. And I don’t dare go down to the Cut and Curl because I don’t have any answers for all the inquisitive minds wanting to know what is going on with us. They’re asking me why I’m not in England with you, and I have no answers that will satisfy them. It seems everyone in town heard that awful interview, and folks are calling me at home. I dread picking up the phone. It looks suspicious, Fitzwilliam. So you tell me, what am I supposed to think?”
His head was splitting from her barrage. He didn’t give a damn about Liddy’s baby or what the old harpies at the Cut and Curl had to say, much less what they thought, but his wife was another matter. He knew that no matter what he had to say, she was not going to take it well, but at least he would try.
“Elizabeth, please. Let me explain. My father kept our marriage a secret here in London. He didn’t want anyone to know about my personal life. He didn’t approve of our marriage. You know that. Only a few people knew, mostly members of the family and a few personal friends and advisors, and they were persuaded to keep quiet as well.”
He let out a heavy sigh …She’s not going to like this… “Liz, I must keep quiet too. Our marriage is no longer a secret. The press broke it over a month ago, although the Darcy family has not officially commented on it one way or the other. And… quite frankly, I didn’t refute it because…well, I don’t want the focus to be on us. It’s bad enough that we’ve been exploited in the tabloids. I don’t want it spilling over into the mainstream media, too. Consequently, I’ve chosen not to discuss it. My father was very vociferous on the subject and many in my family don’t approve of my choice. They’ll use our marriage and the fact that it drove a wedge between my father and me to fan the flames of discontent, generating more negative publicity, which will, in turn, make life very unpleasant for you. I don’t want to see you hurt,” he softly said. “That is the one way they can get to me. This can’t last much longer. It’s the first of June. It will soon blow over, and we’ll be together. I promise. Trust me, Elizabeth. On this occasion, I know what is best.”
She gasped. “Trust you…I’ve trusted you all along, but I guess I never realized what your family really thought of me, or how much they despised me. They don’t even know me. Did you know your father had done this?”
His features contorted …I know she’s not going to like this… “No, not at first…I found out later.”
“And you didn’t correct it? You didn’t defend me? How long have you known?”
“David told me before the wedding. We discussed it, and I… Elizabeth… I thought… well… I thought maybe it was best not to tell you.”
“You thought it was best. I see,” she said in a whisper.
“Elizabeth, it’s not what you think.”
“If it’s not what I think, then I’m boarding a plane and coming to London within the next few days.”
“No! Do not do that!”
“Why not, Fitzwilliam?! What about us? Why can’t I come to you?”
“Elizabeth, I know you’re listening, but are you really paying attention to what I’m telling you? I don’t want the media to focus on you…on us. I’ve got enough problems without my personal life being dragged through the mud. I can’t fight a war on two fronts. Please, Elizabeth, you have to understand. There are people here within the corporate structure, some of which are my family, who don’t approve of me, and they’re using my disagreements with my father against me. I can’t give them more fuel to add to the fire, and your arrival here will do just that. Please, I must ask you to not go against my wishes.”
“Why? I still don’t understand.”
He closed his eyes. “Because any negative publicity could have an adverse effect on the board members and shareholders’ confidence in me, which is already on thin ice, and since I am the acting Chairman of the Board and CEO of Pemberley, my public image affects the business. The tabloids are already exploiting my disagreement with my father, which goes much deeper than our marriage. Father worked very hard to promote his public image, whereas I have not. He took every opportunity for photo ops to enhance his popularity. He was known for his philanthropy. People know me simply because I exist. When I was merely a son, it didn’t matter so much, but now it does. I’ve never courted the media—I’ve never cared, but now it is important. It’s important to my very survival as CEO.”
He paused and rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “Do you understand what I’m talking about? I’m talking about billions of pounds and my family’s legacy. As
I told you the day of the funeral, I’m in the fight of my life, and I can’t afford to lose this battle. Therefore it’s vitally important that I keep my personal life out of the press.”
“But don’t you see that I need you, too, especially now that—”
“Elizabeth, listen to me! If you come here, they will pull you to pieces. They’ll do nothing but find fault with you, and what they can’t find out for themselves, they’ll invent just to reinforce my father’s position. He was known for always being right. The media climate here is hostile. If this spills over into the mainstream media, it could have far-reaching consequences. Elizabeth, I don’t want that to happen. I can’t deal with it right now. The spin on things is that it’s me against my father’s memory. Don’t you understand what that means? My enemies will say my father was right and that I have married beneath myself.”
Her voice quivered. “Is that what I am to you—someone beneath you… an embarrassment? I thought I was your equal.”
He groaned in anguish. “No, of course not! You are my equal. This has come about because of the disagreements between my father and me, but you’re caught up in it, and I need your cooperation. Had he given us his blessing, no one would have dared say a word, but he didn’t.”
“I think I’m beginning to understand. You want to keep me in the shadows so certain stockholders won’t change sides.”
“Yes, that is true, but you know I love you. I’ve told you so repeatedly. You have to understand that as my wife, you must keep a low profile.”
“No, Fitzwilliam I don’t understand. I don’t like this one bit. What’s wrong? Have you changed your mind about us? I mean when you first proposed, you didn’t know I was connected to a drug dealer.”
The Cumberland Plateau Page 49