Darcy and Fitzwilliam: A Tale of a Gentleman and an Officer

by Karen V. Wasylowski

  “Oooops.” He began to laugh, softly at first and then loudly snorting as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Don’t snort, Darcy. Ha!” He nearly tumbled forward as he placed the second boot down very carefully next to the first, which had apparently moved, then stood to remove his shirt, pants, and smallclothes, staggering a bit. Respectfully holding the locket containing Lizzy’s hair, he tried several times unsuccessfully to kiss it, finally placing it reverently on the nightstand next to the bed. “Good night, m’little angel,” he whispered to his phantom wife.

  He waved bye-bye just before he passed out.

  ***

  He was dreaming of horses. Beautiful Arabians and Andalusians. It was a painting he had seen as a child come to life. They were charging toward him, but he was thrilled, not frightened. Suddenly there was his father’s beloved mount, Jezebel, another distant memory from his childhood. Jezebel had been a magnificent beast. She and the grand old stallion, Caesar, were both responsible for many of the current stock in the Pemberley stables, and they were both running to him, as if they were young again and alive. All at once he was atop Jezebel, enjoying the wind blowing through his hair. She galloped faster and faster, her sinuous strong legs moving beneath him, changing again into a huge bird that flapped her wings, and off she was flying, over Pemberley and over Netherfield and over Rosings.

  I should return home, he tossed about fitfully once or twice, fighting the joy of shirked duty, but he felt so free. No worries about babies or stress or complications, only the soft, sweet breeze on his face, now the tender erotic sensation of moisture tingling his neck and back, the sensuous feeling of arms and legs wrapping around him, full breasts pressed against his bare back. Oh my, but he really and truly loved women’s breasts, was always guilty about his unseemly and unwavering obsession with them. It was indecorous and common. If only he could stop smiling. He grinned happily now at how warm and soft they were, like spongy pillows, firm and big. He imagined his Lizzy before him, slim once again as she was prior to the pregnancy, her breasts not the tiny delicate buds she possessed before but engorged with milk as they were now. He loved looking at them and touching them. Hell, he reasoned, this is my dream. I can think whatever I want. He hoped she would breast-feed the baby for a very long time, possibly twenty years or so.

  His chuckle turned into a moan as he found himself becoming more and more aroused, and he began to force himself awake, forgetting completely that he was not at home.

  “Lizzy?” he gasped in pleasure, a soft tongue moving inside his ear and then delicate nibbles on his neck, a small, warm hand reaching around from behind, taking him and stroking him harder and harder. “Oh God, Lizzy?!” He was waking quickly now. She was never this bold with him, not usually, anyway, and his hand moved instinctively backward to grab at her. But… something was terribly wrong. Something felt different. Rounder. Sitting suddenly upright, he turned to face Caroline. Lying behind him, she was wearing the sheerest of nightgowns and smiling the brightest of smiles.

  And she was still intimately holding him in her hand.

  “Surprise!” She laughed softly, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight.

  Darcy swatted away her hand and jumped from the bed, then grabbed at the sheet to hide his nakedness, still staggering a bit. “What in bloody hell are you doing, Caroline? How did you get in here?” He stared stupidly at the adjoining door to the sitting room that now stood wide open, while the hall door still remained solidly barricaded.

  “Why, I’m seducing you, Mr. Darcy.” She grabbed at the sheet he had wrapped about him so tightly and, hand over fist, began pulling him back into the bed. “At least I am making an attempt at it! You could help me, you know.”

  “The hell you are.” Darcy yanked furiously back on the sheet and stood fuming, his fists clutching the material. “The hell I will!”

  “Oh, come back to bed. Don’t be such a child.” Her gaze drifted up and down his body as she stretched out her legs and pulled her nightgown hem up to her knees. Reclining seductively on her side, she patted his half of the bed.

  “Mr. Darcy, you are aging uncommonly well, I must say. Your shoulders are much larger than I remember. In fact, everything is larger than I remember.” Grinning, she arranged her hair over the pillow then rested her arms above her head, which lifted her breasts seductively.

  “Honestly, Caroline, you must be insane… or a congenital idiot.” She pouted and began again to reach for his sheet. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, stop this at once!” Glaring at her, he angrily flung the sheet in her face then stomped over to the chair, roughly beginning to dress, throwing on his smallclothes, pants, and shirt. He was staggering still and somewhat drunk, his head pounding wickedly. He wanted to vomit. “You must be mad, woman! Have you no sense of decency left within you?” He sat down with an “oomph” to pull on his boots. “Sneaking in on a man… taking liberties… got me drunk…” He slammed down his foot to settle his boot firmer. “God damn it, Caroline! God damn it to hell! I feel violated! Of all the imbecilic, asinine stunts you have pulled, this is by far the worst.” He slammed down his second boot to settle it. “How dare you do this to me! I gather that Charles and Jane are miles from here, and that I have been a dimwitted ass.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “Well, you are never an ass, Darcy.”

  He shook his head in disgust.

  “I did say, ‘Surprise.’ And I am not insane, as you say, or an idiot. I know what I want and shall not be denied.”

  “Bah! If you are not insane or an idiot, I recommend you not breed. Madness could be hereditary!”

  “Darcy, do grow up!” She slapped the bed, sounding exasperated. “We are both adults, and there is no one who would know. Surely you must remember that the regent’s court is quite sophisticated. No one thinks twice about this sort of thing.” She pouted at his wrath. “Oh, you used to be much more fun.”

  “I am married, you idiot! Your brother is one of my dearest friends! His wife is my sister-in-law! Gad, I cannot believe even you would do this, Caroline,” he huffed, trying to clear his head but feeling nearly as drunk as when he had retired. “Besides, our one brief moment together was over ten years ago, and I have moved on with my life, matured. What in the world would make you think I was even remotely interested in you? I really wasn’t much interested back then, and believe me, madam, I am even less interested now.”

  She pursed her lips, vastly annoyed at his comments. “If you would only but notice I am in even better looks than I was when we were younger. Don’t tell me you have lost all interest in sex since you married that country frump?” She sat upright in the bed, leaning back on her hands, thrusting her body into a seductive pose. “Or has she completely turned you away from the sport?”

  She finally really looked at him, noticed his stance, his facial expression. Everything revealed his sincere disgust of her, and she began a slow rage.

  “You’re like a bitch in heat, Caroline, and I don’t mean that in a Carlton House good way either. Truthfully, the only thing I do see from here, Miss Bingley, is that you are not a natural redhead. Good evening, madam,” Grabbing his coat, he stormed out the door, slamming it on a tirade of curses and crockery from within. He was down the stairs in a moment, somehow saddled and mounted his horse, and was gone within fifteen.

  It was still the middle of the night, however, dark and starless, and he was still drunk. He made his way as far as the Longbourn barns, where he collapsed into a mound of hay, falling fast asleep, his preferred companion to a scheming redhead being the old mama cat who curled herself up at his back. He slept as an innocent, deeply and gratefully, having escaped “the Viper’s” clutches once again.

  ***

  Unfortunately, however, he had not remembered to retrieve Lizzy’s locket from his nightstand.

  Chapter 18

  Darcy’s return to Rosings late the following afternoon was greeted with much excitement by his wife, relieved that the visit had been so much shorter than expected. She ex
plained that the baby had missed him and that she was no longer comfortable sleeping alone, especially in that large, cold bed. They retired to their rooms soon afterward, and she watched as he removed his dusty riding clothes, curiously encrusted with hay, and as he handed his baggage to his valet to unpack. While he loosened his neck cloth, a hot bath was being prepared for him, and he slumped back on the settee, his arm snug around her waist.

  “Did you see Bingley?” she asked.

  “No, he wasn’t there at all,” he replied truthfully, omitting the fact that Caroline had been.

  “I didn’t think he would be. You know that letter from Jane I failed to open? It appears they are vacationing for the month. Why ever did he ask you to meet him at Netherfield, then?”

  He mumbled something and then kissed her forehead, telling her that his errand had been for nothing. “Just a miscommunication,” he muttered into her ear. She quickly forgot it, happy he was safely home with her again.

  “The big discussion at the moment,” Lizzy informed him, “is Lady Catherine’s sponsoring of Georgiana for her presentation at court! We have been up all night, talking.” Her enthusiasm was infectious, and Darcy was soon laughing and marveling at her energy.

  “We have even been pressing Fitzwilliam into rehearsing his services as escort, practicing the delicate art of train maneuvering.”

  “Is he any good?” Darcy shook his head in laughter.

  “He nearly decapitated her, insists he cannot possibly be expected to work with tablecloth. We might need the real thing on which he can practice. Something in silk may be easier for him to handle.”

  “I wish I could share your excitement about this, but I am dreading her entrance into society. I won’t have my baby sister anymore.”

  Lizzy smiled her understanding. He was such a very good man, and he looked so boyish with that wistful, half smile on his face. “She will always be your little sister, my love; you both will always be there for each other. But it is time she was allowed to spread her wings. We cannot delay this any longer.”

  Just then Georgiana knocked softly on their door. “Might I enter?” The quality of her voice seemed suddenly very grand and sophisticated to her brother’s ears.

  “You see”—Darcy’s eyes looked cheerless—“she’s already speaking as if she’s a forty-year-old duchess.”

  Lizzy giggled and patted his cheek lovingly. “Enter, Your Grace,” she called out.

  The door was flung open to reveal Georgiana with her nose high in the air. She was wearing her childish flannel nightgown, the bosom of which was heavily padded beneath the material, giving her an overweight, matronly appearance. A tiara of dead flowers sat upon her head, and a tablecloth was tied around her neck, resembling a long white train. Epaulets from one of Fitzwilliam’s old uniforms dangled from her ears. Lastly, her feet were encased in old socks, and she held Darcy’s walking stick in her hand as if it were a scepter. She glided regally into the room, ruining the effect completely by bumping into a chair and rubbing her knee for a moment before standing up straight.

  “You will now address me as the Grand High Exalted and Honorable Lady Georgiana Catherine Darcy, spinster, if you so please.” She raised a quizzing glass of their late uncle Louis’s to her eye to observe Darcy and Elizabeth. They all burst into laughter.

  “Well, perhaps I have nothing to worry about just yet.”

  ***

  The following week, Darcy left with Mr. Bennet early in the morning, returning his father-in-law to Longbourn. Although Mr. Bennet had been horrified at the prospect of meeting Lady Catherine, going so far as to publicly bemoan his fate at being away from his books and projects for so long a time, it was with some degree of sadness that he left her company and Rosings Park. He shivered a bit at the thought of his empty house.

  Darcy turned a concerned glace at him across the carriage. “Are you chilled, sir? We can stop for more hot bricks at the next station.”

  “No, William, I am quite warm. I was only thinking of Lady Catherine.”

  Darcy’s momentary surprise turned to amusement. He nodded at his father-in-law. “She has had the same effect on many a younger and heartier person than yourself, sir.”

  Mr. Bennet smiled. “She certainly is a force to be reckoned with, is she not?” He turned his gaze out the carriage window, his mind drifting back in time for a moment. “You know that she was generally regarded to be the great beauty of the county in her day, do you not? I myself was quite enamored of her—from afar, of course. Many a young buck was.”

  Darcy smiled at the thought of Lady Catherine as a flirtatious young girl or as a beauty driving youthful Corinthians to distraction. “I am afraid that I can only think of her as my beloved aunt or as a well-coifed battering ram, depending upon her mood.”

  “I understand completely. Thinking of a parent figure as once enjoying youthful urges is a repellent and unpleasant undertaking for the young.” Mr. Bennet suddenly laughed and turned to Darcy. “Shall I tell you something you may find even more disturbing?”

  Darcy smiled back at him and nodded. “Feel free to do so, sir.” Knowing Mr. Bennet’s humor to be so similar to Lizzy’s, he had learned to appreciate their talks more and more.

  “I find her still damned beautiful.”

  Chapter 19

  Elizabeth had been spending more and more of her visit in her room, her swollen feet once again worrying her and her back throbbing. She received word of Caroline Bingley’s visit as she sat drinking chocolate and resting. “Downstairs?!” she gasped. “Here?! To see me?!” She could scarcely believe her maid as the young girl ran off to search for a pair of slippers that would fit.

  Elizabeth was frozen with fear. Dear God. Here, in the same home, were the two people that she feared most in the world. What if Lady Catherine turned on her now? She was in no physical shape to take them both on at once. Her first instinct was to take the coward’s way out and faint. I should really remain in my room, bolt the door, and send down my regrets. It is what William would want me to do. It is definitely unhealthy for me to venture anywhere, being as I am so unsteady and wobbly. Then suddenly, she noticed that the swelling in her feet had receded. “Traitors,” Elizabeth hissed.

  Her trust in Catherine was tenuous, her confidence in herself as solid as jam preserves. This will not go well for me, I fear. She struggled to her feet. Why is William never here when I need him? Where is Fitzwilliam? Perhaps he can come down with me. She sent her maid off to find him as a footman arrived to help her slowly make her way down into the parlor.

  ***

  Well, here was a scene from hell, she thought to herself, a nightmare revisited. She found Lady Catherine sitting across from Caroline, both turning their dead, doll-like eyes toward her as she entered. Anne was also on the settee, along with her ever-present companion.

  “Ah, Elizabeth. Finally you have come down and joined us! You have a visitor.”

  Elizabeth waddled into the room with as much grace as possible, horrified at the note of censure in Lady Catherine’s greeting. “Yes, I see that, Lady Catherine. I am all amazement at this rare honor.” Lizzy crossed the room and sat alone in a high-backed chair positioned between the two opposing sofas.

  “We have had quite a revealing chat while waiting for you to arrive.”

  To Elizabeth’s disgust, Caroline looked beautiful in a fawn green batiste gown that complimented her red hair and pale skin. She looked stunning. Lizzy hated her. She felt like a dead, bloated cow left out in the sun to explode.

  “Although Miss Bennet and I are but recent acquaintances, your ladyship, I have friendship of long standing with your wonderful nephew, Mr. Darcy.”

  Elizabeth eyed the redhead from under lowered lashes. Suddenly she looked a little too redheaded, if Lizzy was any judge. If I were only a little lighter on my feet, I could poke that beady little eye from her perfect little face. “Evidently your memory is failing you, Miss Bingley. I am Mrs. Darcy now, and our acquaintance is of several years’ durati
on, not moments.”

  Caroline grinned slyly, knowing she had made a direct hit.

  “Elizabeth, must I remind you to please be more gracious to your guest?” Lady Catherine’s voice was cold and cutting, and she glanced disapprovingly at Lizzy. I knew she would turn on me at her first chance. Lizzy sighed deeply. I am done for, a bleeding corpse for when he returns. It serves him right.

  What Lizzy had not noticed, however, were Aunt Catherine’s eyes narrowing as they looked back to Caroline. “You must forgive my niece, madam.” She turned her attention once more to Lizzy. “We must strive to be more Christian, my dear. It is never good form to speak unkindly to tradespeople. We must always be unexceptional and condescending in our manner with those who are in service… and therefore beneath us.”

  Elizabeth, who had been blindly staring down at her folded hands, feeling miserable, froze. A glimmer of something—hope, maybe? Shock, certainly!—made her head snap up and her eyes dart quickly to her new aunt.

  “I beg your pardon, your ladyship.” Caroline, refusing to acknowledge an offence, seemed amused with the older woman’s apparent confusion. A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. Older people are so dear. She patted the edges of her mouth delicately with her napkin . If only they did not hang onto life so tenaciously. Like this old goat. She delicately sipped her tea, placed the cup lightly back onto the table then smoothed a hand over her very French, very fashionable, very expensive gown. She began to speak, but Catherine raised her hand.

  “No matter, young woman. But please be kind enough to commence with your presentation. As you can see, my niece is with child and cannot be bothered for too long a period of time. And I do hope you’ve had enough presence of mind to bring chemisette samples.” She nodded to Elizabeth and then to Anne. “And a goodly variety of fichu caps in sensible shades of white. I am hopeless when it comes to imagining these colors from their names. Don’t you agree, Anne?” Anne nodded morosely, cleared her left nostril, and then gagged up some phlegm into her handkerchief.