The Cumberland Plateau

by Mary K. Baxley

  ~*~

  On the return flight to London, David’s recent visit to Charleston preoccupied his thoughts. …What’s wrong with her? She’s not pregnant… so what could it be? I don’t understand. There’s nothing, or anyone, who could make me leave her. I don’t understand women. Why does she not believe me?

  ~*~

  Days passed with growing concern gnawing at Cecilia. At times she felt almost ill from the thought of losing David. She knew what she must do, and she dreaded it. Elizabeth had become very emotional as she approached the final stretch of her pregnancy, but if Cecilia had any hope for her and David, she knew she must talk to her friend. Handing her purse to the maid as she came through the door, she left in search of Elizabeth as she had finally worked up the courage to speak with her concerning all that she had learned from David.

  Cecilia found Elizabeth in the sunroom where she often sat, putting the final touches on a baby gown she was embroidering. Cecilia knew she would have to tread lightly.

  “Lizzy, I would like to speak to you.”

  “Sure, what would you like to talk about?” Elizabeth asked as she placed her handwork aside.

  “Fitzwilliam,” Cecilia said, hesitating. “Lizzy, are you absolutely sure that things are as you think? Is there a possibility you could have misunderstood?”

  “Celia, I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” Elizabeth answered in shock. “You saw his letter. I told you about our phone conversations, and then there was his aunt. All of this could not possibly be a misunderstanding.”

  “You also told me that he loved you and that you loved him. Soon you’re going to give birth to his children. Lizzy, you really should tell him. Perhaps the babies would make a difference. Perhaps he was simply under a great deal of stress with his family crisis. I know what it is like to have a heavy responsibility resting squarely upon my shoulders.” Cecilia paced the room wringing her hands. “I think it is very possible that the pressure he was under came between you.” She turned to catch Elizabeth’s worried look. “That does not mean his feelings have changed, or that he would not be the husband he was. Lizzy, won’t you contact him? Won’t you talk to him? I can help you. I’ll be by your side. Please, Lizzy.”

  “No, Celia, I can’t. It’s too late for that. I saw him on the BBC at some charity foundation ball.” Elizabeth turned away and swallowed a sob. “He wasn’t alone. In fact, there were women all over him, and he wasn’t fighting them off. He was even dancing with them, smiling and happy. He’s moved on. It’s too late for us.” Tears spilled.

  “Lizzy, perhaps if he knew about—”

  “No! Celia, he’s moved on. I will not be with a man who does not love me for me. I won’t live with a man who would only want me because of the children. I won’t! Please, you’ve got to stand by me in this.” Elizabeth burst into tears as Cecilia went to her and tried to comfort her.

  “Shh… Lizzy, it’s all right. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Hush now. All will be well.”

  Cecilia bit her lower lip as she gently soothed Elizabeth, tears spilling down her cheeks. …I’m going to lose the only man I have ever loved. I have three choices. I can tell David I have Elizabeth and let Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam work this out, or I can tell Elizabeth about David and let Elizabeth deal with things as best as she can, or I can do nothing. With any choice I make, I lose. Fitzwilliam will someday find out—as will David. Cecilia looked down at her trembling friend and shook her head. …Lizzy, we both lose… Lizzy…Lizzy, we often fear that which we don't understand.

  Cecilia’s resolve was set. She would stand by her friend no matter what it cost her.

  ~*~

  When David returned to England, he headed straight for Pemberley House where Georgiana and Fitzwilliam, along with his cousins, awaited him.

  “David, I’m so very glad to see you. I’ve missed you.” Georgiana kissed his cheek as she greeted him.

  “And I’ve missed you. It’s good to be home,” he said. “I love you, Georgie.”

  “What’s with you, David? Are you in love?” she teased. “You certainly act like a man in love.”

  “I’ll tell you all about it in good time.” He laughed. “But yes, in fact, I am. I need to talk with our brother, so you’ll have to excuse me,” he said with a smile.

  “Oh, David, this is wonderful news! You’re to see me immediately after speaking with Fitzwilliam. I want to hear all about it.” She hugged her brother exuberantly.

  Turning to his cousins, he slapped first William and then Benson and Richard on the shoulder. “How have you been?”

  “Busy as usual,” Benson said. “But, have we just entered an alternative universe? Did I hear you correctly when you walked in? Don’t tell me some skirt has caught you!”

  “Benson, you’re young and your day is coming. I’ll tell you about it later.”

  “Well, you may as well tell us all,” said Rhonda Winthrop. “Anyone who can hold your attention for more than a couple of dates has to be very special. When do we meet her?”

  “Soon. After my marathon trip to Eastern Europe and Asia, I’ll bring her to London. She’s an American girl from South Carolina. I’ll tell you everything after I speak with Fitzwilliam.”

  William stepped forward while Richard stood back shaking his head and smiling. “Congratulations on your first love. I wish you the best of luck.”

  “Thanks,” he shook his cousin’s hand, “but now, if you will excuse me, I need to speak with my brother.”

  Leaving the drawing room, he walked the short distance to where he knew his brother would most likely be. Entering the library, he smiled. There he sat, reading. “Fitzwilliam, I need a word with you in your study.”

  Fitzwilliam glanced up, putting his book aside. “All right, let’s go,” he smiled. “Hmm…you look happy. It must be good news.”

  “Indeed it is.”

  As they entered the study, Fitzwilliam settled behind his desk while David shut the door and took a seat across from him.

  “Now, what is this all about?”

  Grinning, David said, “I’ve met someone whom I’m planning to marry.”

  “You? You’re joking?” Fitzwilliam gaped.

  “No, I’m not joking. I’m deeply in love. She’s amazing, and you will love her when you get to know her.”

  “Who is she? When did you meet her? And how long have you known her?”

  David chuckled. “I’ve known her for two years now, but more closely in the last year—specifically since November. She’s a South Carolina Belle and the sole owner of Lawton & Co. I’ve been going to Charleston every chance I can get and attending society functions with her for a few months now. She’s also the one who rang me last spring and summer. You remember—the one you kept asking about.”

  Fitzwilliam stiffened. “David, let me get this straight. You’re in love with Cecilia Lawton of Charleston, South Carolina?” He paused and took a deep breath. “Is she not the one you told me about last year? What did you call her? ‘A cold, hard bitch?’ And now you’re telling me you want to marry her!? I knew you were seeing her, but marry her? You aren’t serious, are you?”

  “That’s the one, and yes, I’m very serious. When I told you those things, I thought they were true, but since then, I’ve come to know her better.”

  “I would hope so! From our previous conversation, I had a different opinion.”

  “No, Fitzwiliam. You’ve got it wrong. She’s not like that. She’s a warm and beautiful woman. I love her, and there’s no feeling in the world that can describe what it feels like to make love to someone you’re in love with. Fitzwilliam, please, reserve judgment until you’ve gotten to know her. I stood by you when you wanted to marry Elizabeth.”

  Fitzwilliam winced. “And we all know how that turned out.” He sighed as he passed his hand over his face. “David, I don’t want to see you hurt. Think it through before you commit. It might be better to simply have an affair. If you must marry, why don’t y
ou stay within our own sphere? Cecilia Lawton is nouveau riche. She’s beneath you.”

  David leapt from his seat. He shook his head violently. “Fitzwilliam, you don’t know what you’re talking about, and I can’t believe you’re saying this! I respect her too much to demean her by reducing our relationship to a meaningless affair, and I do know what I’m doing. Last time I checked, I was over twenty-one and responsible for my own decisions.” He stared, incensed by his brother’s attitude. “And since when did you give a damn about connections and social class?”

  “Since Elizabeth, that’s when! If I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t be pulled in so easily. I should not have married her.” He raked his fingers through his hair, pain etching lines in his face that hadn’t been there before the ordeal with Elizabeth had begun. “I didn’t know her well enough.”

  “Well, let me tell you something, Brother. Southern society is no different from ours. Cecilia is from the first circles; she descends from the Lord Proprietors of 1670 and is not new money, as if that matters to me!” Nostrils flaring, David looked at his brother with contempt. “In many ways, I find their society superior to ours. The people are warm and open. At least they’re not pretentious. Good God, Fitzwilliam, what’s gotten into you? Do we even know each other anymore?”

  Fitzwilliam’s face crumpled in grief. “David, forgive me. I know I’m callous. I’m sorry.” Rising from his desk, he walked over to his brother and embraced him. “Sometimes bitterness overtakes me. But I’ll be all right in time, and more than anything, I want to see you and Georgiana happy, so perhaps you’re correct, and Miss Lawton is the lady for you. If she is, then I want you to be happy.” He smiled faintly. “Now, I suppose you want to talk with me about the family jewelry?”

  “Yes, I do, and I’m really sorry for you. Don’t give up,” David said, clapping his brother on the back. “I know how important family is to you. You’ll love again. You’re too good of a man not to.”

  “No,” Fitzwilliam smirked as his shoulders slumped. “You’re wrong. Perhaps I’ll develop some of your old habits, but I will never love again, nor will I ever remarry.” Bitterness dripped from his words as he walked back around his desk and took his seat.

  “No, you won’t.” David shook his head. “You’re a better man than that.”

  Fitzwilliam took in a deep breath. He knew David was right, but the pain of a broken heart had a way of altering a man. He rubbed his wrinkled brow, trying to suppress a headache as he changed the subject back to the jewelry.

  It was decided that when Cecilia came with David to Pemberley, she would have her pick of the family heirlooms. The more the brothers talked, the more Fitzwilliam realized his brother was indeed in love, but he would still reserve judgment. He no longer trusted things to be as they appeared. Perhaps she was David’s equal in some ways as he claimed, but Fitzwilliam could not so easily accept things anymore. When they had finished their discussion, Fitzwilliam noticed his brother lingered.

  “Is there something else on your mind?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. I want to see our family business journals and ledgers from 1800 through 1852. I’m going to take them with me on my Eastern European trip.”

  Fitzwilliam studied him. “They’re in the library annex. May I ask why the interest?”

  “I know,” David laughed. “I’ve never taken an interest in history before—let alone our personal family history, but let’s just say I want to know about our involvement in the commodities market with the Southern United States during that time period.”

  “Well, I can tell you that in a brief précis. Darcy & Sons were heavily invested in the importation of cotton, rice, and sugar from Charleston, Mobile, and New Orleans. But Alexander saw the war coming, and after our losses in the panic of 1837, he sold the Liverpool operation to W. C. Weakly & Sons, taking a handsome profit and divesting Darcy & Sons from all Southern interests.”

  “Alexander was an abolitionist, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes, our family abhorred slavery and eventually supported the efforts to abolish it in the West Indies. And in 1853, Alexander sold the Lancashire mills to Matthews & Pettigrew, washing our hands completely.”

  “I thought I remembered it that way, but I wasn’t sure. Our family never owned slaves, did they?”

  “No, not really. Fitzwilliam’s uncle, Bartholomew Darcy, was one of the few landowners in Barbados who actually freed his slaves and paid them—well before 1834 when they were set free by an act of Parliament. Anything else?”

  “No, that about covers it,” David chuckled softly. “I’ll check the journals for the details. I’ll see you at the church service.”

  As David left Fitzwilliam’s study, he found Georgiana loitering in the hall, waiting for him. She quickly pulled him away, leading him to a smaller study that had belonged to their mother.

  “We have an hour before Fitzwilliam wants to leave for the Christmas Eve service, so you must tell me all. Who is she? Does she love you? Are you going to ask her to marry you?”

  Looking upon his sister with fondness, he laughed to himself. So much for the journals. He’d get them later. “Slow down, Georgiana, and I’ll tell you everything. Well, maybe not everything, but most of it. As I said, she is an American from Charleston, South Carolina, and in some ways, she reminds me of you. She has long blonde hair to her waist and big beautiful blue eyes like yours,” he said, tapping Georgiana’s nose with the tip his finger, “except hers have a violet hue. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met in every way. She’s a businesswoman, loves history, and works very hard for the preservation of Southern culture and history. In fact, I feel as if I have been in an American history class just from knowing her,” he said with a smile.

  “I’ve been seeing her whenever possible for a year now, but the most important thing is that we love each other, and yes, I’m planning to ask her to marry me.” He paused, looking at his sister thoughtfully. “Georgie, for the first time in my life, I’m in love, and it’s the most wonderful feeling in the entire world.”

  Georgiana knew this was real. She had never seen her brother like this. His face glowed with happiness, and he laughed with genuine mirth. “David, seeing you so happy is the best Christmas present you’ve ever given me. I love you, and I’m very happy for you. Now, let’s ready ourselves for the church service. I’ll ride with you so we can talk further.” She hugged him as they exited the study. “I have one brother at least to rejoice over this Christmas.”

  ~*~

  That night, after everyone had retired for the evening, Fitzwilliam slipped down to the library and poured himself a brandy. He sat in an overstuffed chair by the window and gazed out into the midnight sky. It was Christmas Eve, and the moon shone brilliantly over the rolling hills. He picked up the book he’d placed on the side cabinet beside his chair and removed a well-worn photograph and a letter he always kept with him. The picture depicted a woman wearing jeans and a flannel shirt sitting on a white stallion. She was smiling. Her long dark hair blew in the gentle breeze. As a tear slid down his cheek, his mind wandered. …So long—so long ago, and I can still remember the way you taste. Why, Elizabeth? Why? I loved you so much. …I can’t seem to get you off my mind no matter what I do. You’re forever burned into my soul. I can’t work enough or drink enough to extinguish your memory. …The hardest thing about loving you is trying to forget you were ever mine.

  He finished his drink and returned to a cold bed.

  ~*~

  Across the pond, another aimless soul couldn’t sleep. It was Christmas Eve, and the babies were restless. Sitting in a chair in her room by the window, she stared out over the moonlit surf as she took a dog-eared photograph and a letter from the book she’d been reading. While she stared at a picture of a man sitting on a black horse, wearing jeans and a flannel shirt, smiling as the wind tousled his dark curls, a tear streaked down her cheek.

  …Fitzwilliam, you were always the perfect gentleman, moral and upright wi
th an intelligence that captured my heart from the beginning. What happened to us? Where did our love go? I loved you so much, Fitzwilliam. Why? Why didn’t you come for me? You told me you would cherish me always—that I would have no cause to repine. I shall never get over you. You took possession of me, body and soul. My only hope is that it will become easier in the years to come. She soothed her belly, gently rubbing it as she settled the children inside of her before returning to bed.

  ~*~

  The babies were due January 29th, but Elizabeth went into labor late in the night of January 22nd. Fitzwilliam Alexander Bennet Darcy and Emmaline Cecilia Bennet Darcy were born the following morning at seven o’clock and seven thirty, respectively—on Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam’s first wedding anniversary. Cecilia stayed with her throughout the long, difficult night, and though it should have been a morning of rejoicing, Elizabeth wept bitterly for the one whose absence overwhelmed her—and for the void that would never be filled.

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  …There comes a time when a man’s had enough…

  Traveling between Charleston, Asia, Canada, and Eastern Europe, David hadn’t been to his office in three months. When he finally reached his desk, he discovered papers stacked high. Going through the pile, he noticed several messages and three manila envelopes. He wrinkled his brow as he quickly snatched them up and scanned through the messages before opening the envelopes. As he read through the enclosed reports, his chest tightened. Scanning the last one, he dropped them and picked up the photographs. He swallowed hard and blinked in disbelief.

  “Oh, no,” he shook his head. “This can’t be. Cecilia? This can’t be!” Falling back into his chair, he clenched the pictures in his hand, shaking as he flipped through them one by one, his heart aching as he went.