The Cumberland Plateau

by Mary K. Baxley

  “Fitzwilliam, I can’t believe Aunt Hilda did this to you. It was horrible and unforgivable,” Georgiana said.

  David stepped inside and closed the door. “Hilda was loyal to the old way of thinking. She honestly thought she was doing the right thing. She hasn’t realized that times have changed and people no longer think as they once did. Still,” David shrugged, “that doesn’t excuse the harm she’s caused.”

  “Yes, but her day of reckoning is upon her. Are we all in agreement? David? Georgiana?” Fitzwilliam asked, glancing between the two.

  “Yes.”

  “Yes.”

  “I have the documents in hand. Let’s go,” Fitzwilliam said.

  ~*~

  When her secretary announced that all three Darcys were waiting in the lobby, Hilda was more than a little surprised. She was terrified. As they entered her office, Hilda paused, taking in a long breath. “Georgiana, David, Fitzwilliam, how good to see you.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked from one to the other. “Now, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?” She pushed back in her chair and waited.

  “I don’t think you will find it such an honor when you read this,” Fitzwilliam said, dropping a folder onto Hilda’s desk along with the letter she’d written to Elizabeth. “What do you have to say about this? You’ve seen it before, but the first time I saw it was when my wife presented it to me in South Carolina.” He bore down on her with eyes as cold as ice.

  Calmly, Hilda opened the folder for a cursory look before glancing up to meet her nephew’s intense gaze. Opening her mouth to speak, she found herself interrupted before she could even begin.

  “Did you think I would never find out? Did you really think you could get away with this?” he snapped. “You lied to me… and my wife! You saw that we were having disagreements, and you exploited our situation for your own purposes, didn’t you?” His lips curled into a steely smile.

  Hilda blinked twice and swallowed hard. “Fitzwilliam, everything I did was for your welfare. I have always only cared for your wellbeing and that of this family.”

  “Cared about me?” he shot back. “Have you any idea what you did to me?! If you cared, you would have seen to it that my wife returned with you instead of telling her those twisted half-truths about me and my family.” His blood boiled, incensed at her audacity. “How dare you, madam!”

  She met his icy stare with one of her own. “What I did, I did for your own good—for the good of this family. All I have ever thought of was the welfare of my sister’s children. I wanted to preserve our family status and see to it that the Darcy name remains held in the highest esteem, as your father would have wanted. The grandson of an earl should not be married to an American—a low class woman!”

  His temper erupted. “An American of low class? What my father wanted? Is that what you think?” He gazed at her in astonishment. “How dare you insult my wife! And furthermore, what about what I wanted? What about the welfare of my children! I am a man, Hilda—not a child who needs you or anyone else to look after him!”

  “I was trying to save you. Fitzwilliam, I—”

  “Save me from what? Those are my children, and she is my wife! You wished to save me by destroying them!” He stalked the floor in front of her desk. “Don’t you see that they are an extension of me? My blood—my family!” Fitzwilliam took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Listen to me, madam, and listen carefully, for I’ll only say it once—if you ever approach any member of my family again, I will have you before a magistrate. What you did was illegal. It was theft and forgery. Do I make myself clear, Hilda?”

  She glared at him, causing him to chuckle in amusement. “Oh, and Aunt, there is one other small detail I need to mention. We are dissolving all business associations with Vanderburgh Banking, and henceforth, we are severing all family ties with you. You are never to set foot in my house, my office complex, or in any business or residence under my control. From this day forth, we are no longer connected. We’re through!”

  She gasped. “You can’t be serious, Fitzwilliam! We are family! You cannot do this. It will mean billions. My financial status will collapse. I will be ruined,” she breathed out in disbelief.

  “Oh, the bloody hell I can’t! Watch me.”

  “What about all I have done for you—the money I secured for Pemberley?”

  “It is already in the process of being repaid—every single penny!”

  “Fitzwilliam, you will regret this,” she hissed.

  “No, I don’t think so,” he laughed sarcastically. “What you did is unpardonable! Not only was the pain you caused me and Elizabeth inexcusable, but you jeopardized the well-being of my son and daughter, and for that, madam, I can never forgive you.”

  As he was about to leave, he turned back. “Oh, and before I forget, Hilda, hand over the remaining pieces of stationery you took from my office. I’ve filed a legal affidavit reporting them stolen. If they turn up in a suspicious manner, things could get very ugly, very quickly. You wouldn’t like that, now would you?”

  Swallowing hard, she reached in her desk to pull out the remaining sheets of letterhead. Neither said a word until the Darcys were at the door about to leave.

  “Georgiana, David, are you in agreement with this?” Hilda asked.

  Georgiana Darcy had remained silent up to this point, but she held her tongue no longer. “Aunt Hilda, your actions clearly indicated that you cared nothing for Fitzwilliam or for any of us. How can you claim to care about Fitzwilliam and inflict the pain on all of us that you did? It wasn’t you there picking up the pieces when he was in agony. David and I were. That’s not love and concern. That’s cruelty.” When she finished speaking, she stood by Fitzwilliam’s side.

  David spoke next. “The pity is that you don’t even realize the serious damage you’ve done and what you’ve lost. Your financial loss is nothing compared to what your forgery and lies almost cost Fitzwilliam. Your loss is great indeed, but his would have been greater.”

  “How dare you!” She stared defiantly at all three Darcys. “You will regret this, Fitzwilliam. This will not stand. I will not allow it. I will use every weapon within my means. You will beg me for forgiveness before I am through with you!”

  Fitzwilliam marveled at her daring. That she thought she held any power or control over him, he found astonishing. It was apparent he would have to make things crystal clear. Handing the binder he held in his hand to Georgiana, he walked in a slow, deliberate stride back to Hilda’s desk. Placing both hands on its sleek surface, he leaned into her.

  “Let us get a few things clear here, madam. You don’t have any choice in the matter. I choose whom I will and will not do business with,” he said in warning. “It could be worse for you. Do you understand what I’m telling you?” His eyes locked with hers. “Hilda, think of it this way. I’m extending you a measure of mercy, which is more than I’ve done for some, and more than you did for my wife! Consider yourself blessed. Your loss is only financial! At least I’m not prosecuting you for theft and malfeasance of my interests. Considering that I have the power to break you, madam, I would say you’ve made out quite well. Wouldn’t you agree?” A triumphant grin spread over his face.

  “Besides,” David responded, “you can’t stop this. It’s done. And Fitzwilliam is right. Read the separation agreement. Your greatest nemesis, J.C. Hanover, International, has become our new banking partner.” He paused to allow his words to have their full effect. Seeing Hilda’s breath catch as the blood drained from her face, he spoke with an air of finality. “And you know they’d like nothing more than to bring Vanderburgh Banking to its knees. The Pemberley account is the only thing that has stood between you and them for years, and now they have it, and you, madam, are in trouble.” David looked upon his aunt with a mixture of pity and sorrow.

  With that, the two brothers bowed slightly, and all three left, with their aunt’s demands for them to return ringing in their ears.

  Chapter Sixty-nine

  …Lawton,
you’ll be the death of me yet …

  That afternoon as David sat in his office sipping a cup of coffee and poring over the latest report on the Alpaca wool he’d purchased from Peru, Mrs. Honeycutt interrupted.

  “Mr. Darcy, there’s a Mr. Taylor here from Charleston, South Carolina to see you. I’ve told him he doesn’t have an appointment, but he insists you will see him.”

  Shocked, but also curious, David answered, “Send him in, Rita.”

  Strolling into the office with a conceited confidence and condescending smile, Cameron said, “Good afternoon, Darcy. I was in the area, so I thought I might come by and pay you a visit.”

  David wasn’t fooled. Taylor had come for one reason, and one reason alone, but he thought he might as well play along to confirm his suspicion. “Have a seat.” David gestured to the office chair closest to his desk.

  “There’s no need for that. I won’t be stayin’,” Cameron replied as he walked over to David’s bookcase, feigning an interest in the contents.

  “You’re a long way from home, Taylor. May I ask what brings you to London?”

  “Hmm, nothin’ much. I just thought you might like to congratulate me on my recent engagement.”

  “Oh? What engagement would that be?” David’s eyebrow shot up, along with the tension in his neck and shoulders.

  Cameron laughed. “Hasn’t that sweet little sister-in-law of yours told you?” he asked with a contemptuous grin. “Hmm, I guess Celia has been far too busy to call. I mean, with the preparations and all, maybe she didn’t feel it was worth her trouble. I guess I’ll have to be the one to break it to you then. Celia and I will be announcin’ our engagement tomorrow night at the Magnolia Ball, and since Celia was an old friend of yours, I thought you’d want to congratulate me—I mean us.” He grinned in triumph.

  David stiffened, barely containing his emotions. Cameron’s words cut him like a knife, but he’d be damned if he’d let it show. Composing himself, he coolly replied, “Tell me, Taylor, you came all this way to inform me of this? Why?” He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his seat.

  Cameron smirked. “Don’t flatter yourself, Darcy. I didn’t come just to see you. You were a side trip. I was in Liverpool on business, and since you’d once admired my fiancée, I thought I’d stop by on my way back to South Carolina to let you know our happy news. Celia is beside herself with joy.”

  With his eyes fixed on the arrogant bastard before him, David drew an unsteady breath. The thought of this arse married to his Cecilia turned his stomach and made his blood run cold. “Taylor, I want to know one thing,” David said, watching Cameron carefully. “Do you love her?”

  “Love her?” Cameron’s lips curled in a scornful sneer. “It’s not about love, Darcy. I thought a man of your means and knowledge of the world would understand how things work. It’s about money and power. Celia and I understand each other. You see Darcy, I was her first—the first man to ever touch her—the first man to, well, you get my point. We hold a special bond—a bond she’ll never have with anyone else but me. Celia is mine, Darcy. I claimed her years ago.” Cameron strutted in front of David’s desk, casting him a look of pure condescension—a look of a man who’d won as he stared at David and shook his head with a prideful grin.

  “But since you asked, of course we love each other, but it’s much more than that. We belong to two of the oldest families in South Carolina. We can trace our ancestries back to the aristocracy of England—to The Lords Proprietors. Ours will be a marriage of wealth, power, and—”

  “Is that what marriage is to you—money, power, connections…bloodlines and pedigrees? You sicken me, Taylor.”

  “What, Darcy? No congratulations?” Cameron snickered.

  His contempt growing by the second for the sorry excuse of a man before him, David snarled. “You’ve said what you came to say. Now get out. Get out before I throw you out.” David rose from his desk in a slow burn.

  Cameron threw up his hands in feigned surprise. “All right, Darcy, I’m leaving, but I don’t know why you’re so upset. She was never anything more to you than a good piece of ass anyway.”

  David was suddenly at Cameron’s throat, shoving him up against the wall. Opening the door, he hurled him through it. “Rita, if this worthless excuse of a man isn’t in the lift in sixty seconds, call security.”

  “Don’t worry, Darcy,” Cameron said with a smug smile as he straightened his jacket. “I’m leavin’. I just wanted you to know, the best man won.”

  David’s jaw hardened as he clenched his fist, ready to spring like a lethal cat, when his brother stepped into the waiting area, catching David mid-stride.

  “Whoa, David! What’s going on here?”

  “Let me go, Fitzwilliam, let me go! That bastard! I’ll fucking kill him!” David shouted, fury flashing in his dark eyes.

  As Cameron walked away laughing, Fitzwilliam held David firm. “That’s enough, David. I could hear you all the way down the hall. Why don’t we go back into your office, and you can tell me what this is all about?”

  Storming back into his office, David slammed the door and paced as he told his brother everything that had just happened.

  Listening carefully, Fitzwilliam responded, “So, if what Taylor’s said is true, what are you going to do about it?”

  “I don’t know.” He violently shook his head. “How could she accept that pompous arse when she knows why he’s marrying her?” David raked his fingers through his dark disheveled curls, and suddenly it struck him. He could lose Cecilia for good. Fear gripped him—fear for himself and fear for her.

  “David,” Fitzwilliam said, “Elizabeth and I have talked about this extensively. Cecilia thinks she has to marry, and since you left her, she may feel she has no other choice. Taylor’s family is equal to hers in social standing. I can’t see her making a choice for anyone less than someone she views as her equal. That’s why she’s doing it. She doesn’t believe she has any other choice.”

  Fitzwilliam rose from his seat and approached the door. Just as he was about to exit, he turned and said, “Does she, Brother? Does she have another choice?” Studying his brother’s heated stare, he added, “As Father would say, be the man you were meant to be.” With that, Fitzwilliam opened the door and walked through it, leaving David alone with his thoughts.

  David released an exasperated breath and ran his hand over his face. He thought back to his night with Cecilia at The Woodlands, back to the look of her beautiful smile when he’d told her the vase was for her, back to how those luminous eyes sparkled in the candlelight, and finally, back to the night at Carlton when he’d first seen pain reflected in her violet-blue eyes—eyes that had so captured him from the beginning.

  He winced, remembering their argument—the terrible words he’d said, the horrible names he’d called her. The words reverberated in his mind, and the thought that he had caused her pain, crushed him.

  …Oh, God, what have I done? I can’t let her do it. Taylor doesn’t love her, and I do. I can’t let her go through with it. Damn it! I’ve got to get to her by tomorrow night.

  Picking up his interoffice phone, he called his secretary. “Rita, ring the airport and have Pemberley Two made ready for a transatlantic flight. I’m leaving for Charleston tonight.”

  Next he called home and spoke to his valet. “Watson, pack two bags, one for each of us with enough clothes for one week. You and I are leaving for South Carolina in three hours. Be sure to pack my re-enactment suit—and practice knotting an 1860s cravat.”

  David could hear the roar of laughter through the phone. “Yes, sir! It will be a pleasure, sir!”

  They arrived at the airport in two hours, only to be informed that no planes were permitted to take off from Heathrow until further notice. British Home Office Security MI5 had issued a severe alert for a terrorist threat, indicating an attack was highly likely. After a five-hour delay and many calls to his friends in Parliament, they were finally in the air but were told they ha
d to land in New York until further notice as all incoming flights into the U.S. were also affected due to the high alert worldwide. As they waited for the all clear, David paced the floor looking at his watch. Time was running out. It was three a.m.

  Anxiety gripped him. …What else can go wrong! Desperate to get to Charleston, David approached airline security. “When will we be allowed to take off? I have to be in Charleston right away. In fact, I should have been there yesterday.”

  “Sir, nobody is leaving LaGuardia anytime soon. If it’s as you say, I’d suggest you take a rental car,” the port authority guard replied. “At this point, it’ll be faster.”

  “You’re kidding! It’s at least a twelve-hour drive!”

  “Then I’d suggest you get a move on. Time’s a wasting.” The hefty agent smiled while spinning his keys on his finger.

  After securing a BMW and leaving instructions with his pilot to follow him to Charleston as soon as he was allowed, David and Watson tore out of New York for the long drive south, putting the pedal to the metal with hard rock music blaring, keeping time with the speedometer.

  On the south side of Richmond, Virginia, a loud pop sounded as the car veered to the right, almost spinning out of control. Guiding the Beamer into the emergency lane, David flung the door open, getting out of the car to inspect the front tire.

  “A flat! Damn it! I’m never going to make it. I wish I had my Lamborghini,” he said as he kicked the tire and let loose a string of curse words under his breath.

  Watson calmly opened his door and slid out. Surveying the damage, he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. “Don’t worry, sir, I’ll have us back on the road in no time flat—no pun intended. And sir, at the speed we’re already traveling in this vehicle, I’m glad the Murciélago is in London,” he said, giving David a cheeky grin.