“Wonderful! Just wonderful. I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed myself more,” she mused, placing her coat on the rack and sending her purse upstairs with the maid.
Elizabeth chuckled, rubbing her stomach as she and Cecilia turned to walk toward the sunroom. “Well, I daresay David Darcy is a lot more fun than Cameron Taylor, but really, Celia, you should try to find a nice man. If you must marry, at least marry someone who will be faithful, which we both know Cameron will never be. And David? He’s a playboy. I wouldn’t waste my time with him either. Besides, his future is in England, not here,” Elizabeth advised as she and Cecilia took a seat.
Cecilia tossed her head. “Lizzy, it’s not what you think. I know perfectly well what David is and that we could never have a future together, but he is a lot of fun, and I enjoy his company. Which brings me to my next point. He’s coming back in November to spend a week, so I will need you to move to the plantation house on James Island when the time comes.” Cecilia sighed. “Like I said, David may be fun, but he’s also dangerous. I’ve come to know he is fiercely loyal to his brother. Should he discover you, it would not be good for either of us.”
Elizabeth cringed. She, better than anyone, understood the bond that existed between the two brothers. “Thanks for the warning. I don’t want to face him or my husband.”
Leaning back against a cushion, she chewed her lower lip. “Hopefully, when he is remarried, I will feel more at ease and able to handle it,” she lied as her hand protectively went to her protruding belly. Cutting her eyes across at Cecilia, she softly spoke, “And yes, Celia, I know.”
“You know what, darling?” Cecilia watched her sympathetically.
Elizabeth glanced over to the large picture window and peered out. “I know that someday I will have to tell him about the children. I know it cannot be hidden forever, but I’ll cross that river when I come to it.” Her voice trailed off into sadness.
Cecilia reached over and took her friend’s hand reassuringly. “We’ll get you through this, and in time, all will be better.”
Elizabeth looked down, unable to meet Cecilia’s warm smile. “Perhaps it will. I don’t know.”
“Of course it will. Just you wait and see. Now let’s eat and get to your class. I’m so excited about being your birthing coach. Just think, I get to experience the joys of childbirth without any of the trouble. I can’t wait until those babies are here.” Cecilia patted her friend’s hand as they rose to leave for the dining room.
~*~
Now in her seventh month, Elizabeth spent as much time as possible outside, often going to the park across the street to read or walking down King Street to shop in one of the many stores. Overall, her life was as content as it could be, given the circumstances. Many an hour was spent under the shade of the towering live oaks in White Point Gardens where Elizabeth had begun to read and talk to the children, having now named them since she knew she was having a boy and a girl.
Although separated from her husband, Elizabeth felt compelled to maintain his family tradition of naming sons after their ancestors. Therefore, the boy would be Fitzwilliam Alexander Bennet Darcy—Alex for short, and the girl would be Emmaline Cecilia Bennet Darcy, but she would be called Emily.
Resigned to her lot in life, Elizabeth’s days were filled with reading and sewing as she and Cecilia stitched the entire layette for her babies. Creating the designs occupied her mind and brought her a feeling of accomplishment. However, the hours of darkness brought something else. In the loneliness of the night, she ached for the touch of her husband’s hand upon hers, for his warmth when he hugged her, and most of all, for the assurance of his love. She remembered all of their talks about life, books they’d read, the music they liked, and their exploration of their family histories. She recollected her last birthday, their three days in the snow, their quiet evenings at home working on school- related projects, and most of all, their nights of passionate lovemaking. Those were perhaps the hardest memories of all. Her body ached for his touch, for the feel of his skin against hers, and the feel of his lips when he kissed her. He had promised to love her always, and yet, he hadn’t. He had left her.
She pulled out his letter and reread it, crying as she looked from the only picture she had kept of him to his letter. He had broken her heart. Then she felt the children quicken and knew for their sakes she had to move on.
~*~
Cecilia finally received a disappointing report on the Darcy brothers. As she sat at her desk in her executive suite at Lawton Complex, she read over the details. It appeared that Fitzwilliam Darcy had an impeccable character—no moral, legal, or ethical indiscretions. The only item of note was a two-year love affair with a Miss Stella Fitzgerald while he attended Oxford. That was nothing so different from any other college student, and it seemed to not have been repeated, therefore it wasn’t a pattern.
Pemberley, PLC was also clean. There were only a few minor questionable activities, but nothing more than she or her father had done—there was nothing illegal.
David, on the other hand, had an extensive sheet of misdeeds. As she read through his long history, she had to laugh. There were several pictures of him in very compromising positions with scantily clad women hanging on him. Shuffling through them, there was one photograph that caused her to pause. It was a tabloid picture of him with Sandra Hamilton, a popular porn star and exotic dancer, accompanied by an article of a supposed engagement between them, which was hotly denied by both him and his father. Knowing him as she did, she laughed at the absurdity of such a notion, especially when she considered his position in society. She laughed again as she resumed perusing the photographs one by one. His hands were always in places where they should not have been. Cecilia smiled, shaking her head. …So he is a playboy, just as Lizzy told me—a real scoundrel, even. He’s your kind of man…an alpha if I’ve ever seen one. Hmm…no wonder you like him, Celia. He lives life on the wild side, not so very different from you.
She shrugged her shoulders and filed the report in her personal file folder. She hadn’t learned much more than she had from her own search—just a few more details. Rising from her desk, she walked over to the large picture window of her second-story office overlooking downtown Charleston, deep in thought as she chewed on the tip of her pencil eraser. What she read should have distressed her, but instead, it intrigued her. He hadn’t been the playboy with her. He had been sensitive, even loving. Strangely, she found herself more attracted to him than ever. While staring out her window, she anticipated seeing him again as she daydreamed of their last encounter.
~*~
Fitzwilliam buried himself in his work with little time to think of anything else. During the day he fared well, but at night, it was a different story. In the loneliness of his room, all he could do was think of Elizabeth and the times they had experienced together.
He knew he was growing dependent on alcohol, but it was the only way he could block the thoughts and memories that caused his body to ache… desiring her… wanting her—and not having her. Desire and need ate away at him. This was insane. He knew he had to defeat this demon, and that of the bottle, too. But even as those thoughts echoed through his mind, he picked up his brandy decanter and poured one more drink while staring at her photograph beside the letter she had written him. He was sinking into despair, yet he felt helpless to stop it. Surely the dull ache in his heart would subside in time. Once he had overcome his past, he would live again. But what about the future?
He sighed heavily. Having thought upon it, he decided he would never marry again, but that did not mean he wouldn’t have female comfort for his needs. No, in time, he would take care of it like other rich men, finding a pretty woman to escort in society and take care of him at night, much as his father had done in his desperate times during his marriage—and particularly after the death of his mother.
In Fitzwilliam’s way of thinking, sex was a need while love was optional. He was vastly different from the man he used to be. Honor, duty, i
ntegrity—the code he’d lived by much of his life had left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Chapter Fifty
…no one will cry at my funeral, will they…
Corporate Reorganization
By the first of November, Pemberley, PLC was back on track. The three members who had led the insurrection were ousted, along with all who had supported them, even down to the faithless Darcy cousins. Fitzwilliam had not only purged them, he’d cut them off from the family, revoking any allowances they received from the estate. They were on their own, having to find employment elsewhere. He also made sure that would not be easily done. He went for blood, setting an example for those who remained. Now that he had control of sufficient shares of stock, the board of directors and those who worked for him would fear and respect him. Whether they liked him or not, he didn’t care.
After effectively cleansing the London office, he called a special meeting with some of his top executive officers to discuss the restructuring of the U.S. and Canadian headquarters. He had replaced Dashwood, Stanley, and Wesley with his cousins William, Benson, and Richard. Now it was time to reorganize abroad. As the group assembled around the boardroom table, Fitzwilliam called the meeting to order.
“Gentlemen, I’ve called you together to advise you of my plans and our next move. I am reorganizing the U.S. offices in New York and L.A. Ottawa has already been taken care of. Stephen Darcy left yesterday to replace Sean Ashton as President of Darcy & Winthrop Publishing in Canada. Both the U.S. and Canadian restructuring is to be a complete surprise to those who work there. Therefore, as I have already directed Stephen, I require total secrecy. These changes I’m about to disclose will take effect immediately after the New Year with a target date of January tenth to be completed. As with Sean Ashton, I want Edward Darcy and Charles Wilson to think they have survived.” Fitzwilliam tapped his pencil on the table while he looked from one to the other of those assembled there.
“William, as my Financial Director, I want you to also take control of the New York office as President of American Affairs, replacing Wilson. When you arrive, you are to inform him that he no longer works for us. Give him this letter, which will explain his termination along with a severance settlement,” Fitzwilliam said, handing a package to his cousin.
“Once there, I want you to do a systematic audit and investigation of the office. Fire anyone who took part in this attempted takeover or whom you believe to be incompetent. If you want the position on a permanent basis, it’s yours. Wilson is to vacate the penthouse in sixty days, and then it, too, is to be yours. Until then, use the corporate quarters at the Darcy Executive Suite. Do you have any questions?”
“Not at this time. I’ll review the situation and get back with you at a later date if I do,” William answered as he studied the papers in his hand.
“Benson,” Fitzwilliam said as he turned to his younger cousin, “you’re being promoted. As Technical Director for the Pemberley Board, I want you to go to the L.A. office and do the same in your new position as President of Darcy Technologies. You will replace our cousin, Edward. Here is his letter of explanation,” Fitzwilliam said, handing a package to Benson. “He gets no severance package beyond that which I legally have to provide. He’s a Darcy—he should have known better. There’s a high cost to pay when blood betrays blood. As with your brother, if you want the position permanently, it’s yours. The same living accommodations apply to you, except Edward has only thirty days to vacate the Los Angeles suite.
“Once the two of you have secured the offices and everything has returned to normal, you may split your time and residence between Britain and the U.S. Let me know in six months if you plan to take the positions on a permanent basis.”
Glancing around the room, Fitzwilliam concluded. “I think that about does it. Unless there are any further questions, this meeting is adjourned.”
Everyone remained silent.
Fitzwilliam nodded and dismissed them. “Now let’s go to lunch. I’ll meet up with you at White’s in about half an hour.”
As the others were leaving, David pulled his brother aside. “Fitzwilliam, may I have a private word with you?”
“Sure, give me a minute to give this paperwork to Betty, and I’ll be right back.”
Taking the papers in his hand to the desk just outside the boardroom, he gave them to his personal assistant to be filed and then returned to speak with his brother.
“What is it, David?”
David sat on the edge of the table and looked his brother squarely in the eye. “Fitzwilliam, don’t you think you’re being a bit excessive with this entire restructuring? I understand firing them, but cutting them off from the family completely? You seem intent on causing as much pain as you possibly can. You enjoy watching them twist in the wind. Edward, Ashton, and Wilson were only minor players, barely involved, and yet you toy with them, letting them think they survived. And what about Henry and Edmund? You served their heads on a silver platter in the last board meeting. Edmund lost everything he had. He and his wife and children are now living with his parents whilst Henry is living with his wife’s family, barely surviving. I don’t like it, Fitzwilliam.”
“Edmund and Henry Darcy,” Fitzwilliam breathed out. “When we were young, they were like brothers to us. But they grew up and away from the Darcy heritage. It’s been a long time since they held any feelings of loyalty or allegiance to us. They are Darcys in name only. They hate us, and you know it. They have accused us of seeking special privileges, when in reality they wished for what we had even though they benefited from the family legacy and were quite well off.”
“Yes, but does the end justify our means?”
Fitzwilliam released an exasperated sigh as he took a seat on the table beside his brother. Stroking his family ring, Fitzwilliam glanced up and looked his brother in the eye. “David, in some respects you have as much of a classical education as I do. You know from history that all of the enemy must be destroyed in order for the empire to continue and prosper. It was even true amongst our own family. There comes a time when family loyalties are put to a test.” Fitzwilliam paused and locked eyes with his brother. “Have you not learnt anything from our family history? I’m sure you remember The Wars of the Roses and Richard Darcy’s attempt to wrest control of Pemberley lands from Thomas, his brother, the rightful heir. Thomas had to cut him down on the battlefield—his own brother. And have you forgotten our forefather Henry Darcy and the Wars of the Three Kingdoms? I don’t know about you, but I have learnt from history, and I don’t intend to repeat its mistakes. From this point on, I will demand total loyalty.”
Fitzwilliam glanced at the portrait of Fitzwilliam A. Darcy I that hung over the Chairman’s seat. Looking back at David, he nodded with a light sigh “When you have two forces vying for control, only one can succeed. The opposition must be eliminated, and all that is affiliated with it must go. In order to prosper, we must be willing to get our hands dirty and eliminate anyone who stands in our way. Maybe you should refresh yourself with Machiavellian principles. If I can’t have their respect out of friendship, I’ll have it out of fear.” Fitzwilliam’s words were as cold as his eyes.
“I told you I would go for blood, and you agreed. If this were the 16th century, I’d have their heads on London Bridge. I want the people who work for me to be loyal, and I don’t care what I have to do to obtain their allegiance.”
David frowned, clearly uncomfortable with his brother’s answers. “Yes, I did agree in principle, but this is excessive.” David glanced away and then back. “What about Uncle Harry? You have been excessively cruel to him. I thought we agreed to allow him to gradually pay back the money Father had lent him. He’s on the brink of bankruptcy. You have ruined him!”
“Father is dead. That loan belongs to me now!”
“But we agreed to extend the olive branch for Aunt Samantha’s sake, and yet you didn’t.”
“That was before Elizabeth left me. After that, everything changed.” Fitzwil
liam’s words rang with a twinge of sorrow. “She was my grounding force, my reason for living. It was her and our plans for our children that drove me, motivated me. When I lost her, I lost all care and concern for life. All that’s left is a job to do, and that is what motivates me now.” Fitzwilliam paused and cocked his head as he narrowed his eyes. “Did you really think I would show them mercy? The board of directors, especially Dashwood, cost me my wife. I told you I would get them—every single one of them, right down to the last cousin!”
“Yes, but Fitzwilliam, this is a scorched earth policy. We will be viewed as ruthless. Does that not bother you!?”
“Not in the least, Brother,” Fitzwilliam shot back. “I’ve never cared much for what others thought, and I care even less now. I never wanted this job, but now that it is mine, I will do it. Do you think they would not have done the same to us had circumstances been different and they had been successful? Still waters run deep, David. They should not have underestimated me. It’s a world of mice and men.” Fitzwilliam spoke in a hardened voice. “Which are we?”
“Fitzwilliam,” David shook his head, “we are more than the wars of our fathers. This is not the medieval world. You’ve done things I wouldn’t do.”
“Then I guess no one will cry at my funeral, will they?” He glanced away and then drew back, catching his brother’s gaze. “David, I’m operating on gut instinct—trust me!” Fitzwilliam said, slapping his brother on the back as they rose from the table and made their way out of the boardroom.
David glanced at the portraits of Darcy men about the boardroom as he walked out shaking his head. …There’s nothing like a wake of blood to see where you’ve been, is there, Brother? We’re just like our predecessors.
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