Saints and Sinners

by Karen V. Wasylowski

  “Beverly writes me that granddaughter Louisa’s confinement is soon. They’ll want to be home for that.”

  “How swiftly the days pass. Imagine, a great-grandchild for Georgianna and Beverly – and from little Louisa. I still think of her as being twelve years old.”

  “Scottish law allows a girl to marry at twelve years of age and a boy at fourteen, without any requirement for parental consent.”

  “You can be annoyingly informative at times, William. Oh, I so dislike Christmas without Georgianna though. At least Jane and Charles will be with us, and my sister, Mary, of course. The Gardiners’ children as well.” Her aunt and uncle had passed on years before; however, their children were still close.

  “And Lydia,” mumbled Darcy. “There is always Lydia.”

  Lizzy’s embroidering slowed. “I’d forgotten that.”

  “Have you spoken with Fitz? Is he packed and ready to travel?”

  “No. I thought you had. Has Richard been acting oddly these past months?”

  “Odder than usual?

  “William, you know what I mean.”

  Darcy lowered his paper. “You’re right, of course. Mary Elizabeth’s death still haunts him I suppose. A parent should never outlive their child.”

  “And he’s very forgetful lately, his mind wanders to the past.”

  “I was shouting at him about that just the other day.”

  “You shouldn’t shout at him. It won’t improve his disposition.”

  “I was shouting at him because he is deaf as a brick. Do you ever come upon him just mumbling to himself?”

  “Yes,” she laughed. “Last week he told me he was arguing with Amanda, still rather cross with her for dying on him.”

  “I mentioned something to the boys about this. He usually only listens to Harry though. I am please Luke and his wife will be returning home soon from America, along with Father Ted. Fitz misses them.”

  Just then there was a scratch at the door and a servant entered. “Excuse me, sir. There is a message from Somerton Place.” He handed Darcy a sealed note which he opened immediately, his brow furrowing.

  “What is it, William? What’s happened?”

  “It’s from Fitz. He says something has come up and we should go on our own to Pemberley without him, that he’ll meet us there next week. What in the world is bothering him now?”

  “You don’t suppose he’s ill, do you?”

  “Fitz? Hardly. He just loves to dramatize everything, always calling attention to himself…”

  “William, you will stop speaking like that about Richard! He’s dearer to you than a brother would be. You love him, and he you.”

  “Of course, I am quite fond of him, Lizzy. Next to you and the children he’s the dearest part of my heart. I don’t remember a moment of my life without him. Doesn’t mean he hasn’t spent a good deal of our lives driving me insane, though. Oh, I suppose I should scurry over there and see what his problem is this time.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Elizabeth began to look around her chair for her slippers.

  “No, no need for you to go out in the cold. It may be nothing. You know how he gets into these moods of his. I’ll send for you if it’s anything serious.”

  “Listen to me, Mr. Darcy, Richard is just as much a brother to me as he is to you. Besides, I have an odd feeling about this.”

  He didn’t want to tell her the last line on the message had said, “Thank you for everything, William. Say good-bye to Elizabeth for me. Tell her I’ll always love her.” With Lizzy’s heart paining her in recent days, and the fact she’d just recovered from a chest cold, he preferred her to remain. Only heaven knew what Fitz had done, or what they’d find, the old fellow’s mind wandered more than Darcy cared to acknowledge. Recently he’d found him alone and confused, roaming through the rooms of his old home, calling for his children.

  “Elizabeth, I forbid it! If there is anything at all seriously wrong, I’ll send for you. I won’t have you traipsing around London in the rain, half dressed.”

  Pointedly ignoring her husband of many years, Lizzy called for her maid. “Carson, please come in here and help me find something warm to wear.”

  Within the hour they had reached Fitzwilliam’s odd old mansion to the north of London and Darcy handed his and Lizzy’s cloaks off to the Fitzwilliam butler. “Everything all right, here, Niles?” he asked.

  “Yes, Mr. Darcy. Very quiet.”

  “I see. Where is his holiness?”

  Lizzy pinched her husband’s arm.

  “His lordship retired early this evening, sir. If you would like to wait in the family drawing room, I’ll have one of the footmen tell the master you’re here.”

  “No, need for that; I’ll go up and see him myself. Lizzy, if I ask you to wait here, will you?”

  “That depends. Niles, did his lordship retire with a bottle”

  “Just the one, do you mean, ma’am?"

  “That’s what I feared. You go on up, William. Let me know how he is, and Niles, would you please tell Miss Margaret I’m in the library?”

  “Very good, madam.”

  “What are you doing here? I asked you not to come.”

  He looked pale as a ghost to Darcy, and oddly small, dwarfed among the several huge pillows propping him up in his immense bed, a bottle of expensive brandy in one hand, a large apple tart in the other. On the table besides him was Fitz’s old pipe, lit and resting in its usual stand.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m Princess Odette in Swan Lake. What does it look like I’m doing? I’m having some apple tarts. Haven’t had one in months – had to wrestle them away from my cook – at least I think she was my cook. Anyway, the old dear put up quite a fight. Good thing she has only one leg.”

  “You know that is not what I mean. The physicians warned you last week you simply must stop drinking and smoking. Your heart is fragile.”

  “My heart is finally ticking off, and it’s about time too.” He finished off the tart and licked his fingers. “Cooks’ apple tarts are superb. Don’t ever tell Amanda I said that.” He swigged at the bottle of brandy, grabbed his pipe, closed his eyes with a contented sigh.

  “You’re a damn old fool! There is nothing for it but to send for the children. Perhaps they’ll have better luck knocking some sense into you.”

  “I better drink faster then.”

  “Fitz.”

  “What, Darcy? How do you plan on spending your last days on earth? Contemplating the appropriate drainage system for Pemberley, or enjoying what makes you happy?”

  “Drainage does make me happy, Fitz. Nothing like a well-set plot of pipes to make me weepy and dreamy eyed.”

  “For heaven’s sake, sit down,” Fitzwilliam chuckled. “Bring that chair over to the bedside and have a drink with me.”

  “Only if you promise it will be your last, because drinking at ten in the morning gives me stomach ache.”

  “I’m not going to die just so you can have a pain free bowel movement, Darcy. I love you like a brother, but I do have standards.”

  As Darcy settled a chair beside the bed, he fought back his tears. Fitzwilliam was leaving the world the same way as he had entered – a hellion. “You’re in pain again, I see.”

  “No, I’m not. Why on earth do you think that?”

  “You’re rubbing your arm under the covers. When did they begin this time?”

  “Last evening. Fremont promised me one more attack and I’d be done for, so I am holding him to his word.” He passed the bottle to Darcy and closed his eyes. “You’ll watch over my children for me, of course. You were always a more sensible father than I. Not as much fun, of course; but, more sensible.”

  Darcy grabbed the bottle, his hand shaking a bit, and noticed a gleam of sweat covering Fitzwilliam’s face. He must be in worse pain than usual. God Damn Fool! Fitzwilliam, his eyes still closed, interrupted Darcy’s thoughts. “Do you think it’s true, that we go on after life,
that we join our loved ones?”

  So that was it, he was rushing to see his Amanda. Darcy huffed and looked away. “Well, if anyone could trick Almighty God into both of those things, you’re the man who could do it. You could charm the dew off the roses.”

  “Or the fat off of King George.”

  “Or the bloomers off of Lady Deveroix.”

  “That was a vicious rumor. She never wore bloomers.”

  As the old friends burst into laughter, they began to reminisce, good memories, and bad. They had spent a lifetime together, had both fought and defended each other. Darcy and Fitzwilliam, a gentleman and an officer, until the end… and, now, Darcy’s heart was breaking. “Fitz, you’re looking awfully pale. Let me have Niles send for Fremont.” He reached for the bell pull, but Fitz stopped him.

  “Damn it, just sit with me for a while, we’ve time enough for fussing doctors. I say, Darcy, do you remember when you first introduced me to Elizabeth, at Aunt Catherine’s house that Easter so long ago?”

  Darcy sat again and smiled. “Of course I do.”

  “You were such a proud fool. Desperately in love with the woman and bungling it badly, doing everything possible to sabotage things.”

  “You were no help.”

  “I was half in love with her myself. You kept sending me over to Reverend Collins cottage to plead your case, and instead I tried to charm her for myself.”

  “And very nearly succeeded. Good thing you were still a second son back then, believing you needed to marry an heiress instead of the poor little bluestocking daughter of an addlepated country squire.”

  “Good for both of us in the end.”

  “It’s been a wonderful life, that’s for certain.”

  “I would not have missed it for the world.” Fitzwilliam closed his eyes and smiled. “Oh bother. Kathy, stop hovering! Why is she standing over there, staring at me?”

  Darcy frowned, looking around the room as if someone were there he’d forgotten. “What in heavens name are you saying? Kathy isn’t here.”

  “I should know my own daughter, dammit. She’s right...” Staring into the darkest corner of the room Fitzwilliam suddenly tensed. Tears flooded his eyes, ran down his cheeks. His hand came up slowly, reaching for something. Someone.

  The end came quickly then. His entire body seemed to convulse, he clutched at his chest, there was a single gasp for air, a groan…

  And it was over. Fitzwilliam was dead.

  Epilogue Part Deux

  What in hell was going on here? Where was he? All around him was darkness with a pinpoint at the end, so he moved toward it, the light beckoning, growing larger with each step, the glow warming. He wasn’t frightened, although he should have been. He hated darkness, ever since he was a child when his brother locked him in a cupboard where he sat, terrified, for hours and hours.

  And then he saw himself. He was young again, his entire life flashing past, childhood, parents, aunts, uncles, his days at university with Darcy, his days in the army in Copenhagen under the mentorship of Wellington, battle after battle up through the Iberian peninsula and that goddamn bastard, Napoleon, may he rot in hell, the nightmare of Waterloo, then his wife, his babies, his…

  “Richard.”

  He stopped, listened. That voice.

  “Richard, open your eyes.”

  Wary of what was happening, he opened them slowly, seeing the familiar table beside his bed with his pipe, still in its stand, the green wallpaper, the velvet bed curtains, the pillows… and then, lastly, the old man lying there, blank eyes staring at nothing. Lifeless. Bloody hell. Is that me? “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  “Richard.”

  “Amanda?”

  Feeling a gentle touch on his arm he turned around slowly.

  “Hello, my darling.”

  “Dear God.” And there she was before him, as young and beautiful as the day he’d first seen her chasing her bonnet across St. James Square, the wind tossing and twirling until he caught it, handed it back to her (the hem of her dress fluttering enough to give a tantalizing glimpse of ankle as she ran back to the carriage of her awful mother-in-law). She turned around then to smile at him – that warm, loving smile haunting his dreams still – to thank him.

  “Amanda,” he whispered gruffly, barely hearing his own voice. He fought back a sob. “Well, where in bloody hell have you been, woman?”

  “At your side, Colonel; and, don’t take that tone with me.”

  “I shall take any tone I like. At my side, you say? When?” His gaze devoured every inch of her, but he didn’t move, terrified to reach out, frightened to touch. Could this be a dying man’s illusion?

  “Every moment of every day, every day of every week, every week of every month, every month of every year.”

  Bloody hell, he groaned. Who cared if he was hallucinating! Pulling her into his arms he felt the softness of her, breathed in the scent of her hair, touched her skin. “If this is a final dream before I die, so be it. God be praised for such mercy.” He cradled her face in his hands. “Amanda,” his words cut off as he kissed her with all the passion of twenty years without, twenty years of solitude. “Are you really here?”

  “Yes, Richard. Where else would I be, but with you?”

  “Thank God.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “Bloody hell, it’s been a while. If I never have before, may I say that I love you. I always have, and it seems I always will.”

  “I know. And, I love you, always have and always will.” She rested her cheek on his chest and sighed with happiness. “Oh, there are so many of our loved ones waiting to greet you. Aunt Catherine is especially eager.”

  “We’re headed for hell then, are we?”

  Laughing she threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, Richard, I’ve missed you!” He dearly loved her laughter. “Bethie is waiting too, along with the three boys we lost in childbirth. They’re so happy to have you returned to them… Oh, Richard, look – poor Darcy.”

  “Pardon?” Fitzwilliam turned around to see his closest and dearest friend, his cousin, his brother, sobbing over the empty body left behind. “Darcy, no!” Fitz shouted. “It is all right. I’m here!”

  “He can’t hear you, Richard.”

  “Nonsense, of course he can. Darcy, pay attention!” Amanda was correct, of course. There was no response – they were in different worlds. “I’ve never seen him this upset before, he’s always the strong one. This is awful.”

  “Yes, it is. He loves you a great deal.”

  “Well, I cannot have him like this. He helped me stay sane when you passed. He’s the finest, the truest person in the entire world. Darcy! Speak to me, you bloody moron!”

  He tried to grab this cousin’s arm but felt nothing, his hand going through thin air.

  “Damnation. Do something, Amanda!”

  “There’s nothing to be done, Richard. He has a wonderful wife who loves him, children and grandchildren who adore him. He’s led a beautiful life.”

  “That’s true, however… “

  “There is no ‘however’ Richard. Life is only for the living, we have no say here.”

  “What of our children? I cannot abide the thought that they would be upset like this at my leaving.”

  “You do try a woman’s patience, Richard. If you were so worried about the children, why did you constantly disobey the doctor’s orders? Did you believe yourself invincible? No, you were totally selfish and thinking only of your pleasures. I know you rarely took the medicines he prescribed.”

  “Well, thank you very much. I’ll have you know, Amanda, after your passing I cared little whether I lived or died! That’s true love!”

  “Horse feathers.”

  “Pardon me? I had no life on earth without you, no reason to live.”

  “Nonsense. You traveled, you enjoyed the attentions of several much younger women, you attended the opera, the theatre, the museums. You had an adoring family that rushed about for the sole purpose of making you happy, you had satisfying
work to do in Parliament. You had friends that admired and respected you. You ate and drank whatever you wanted. Explain to me again how dearly you suffered.”

  “It was not the same, and you know that perfectly well. You make me sound like a self-indulgent child.”

  “Of course not, darling, but you were alive. There was nothing else for you to do, but live. I know full well how much you love me; however, you needn’t have felt so very guilty about surviving me.”

  “So, you are telling me the children won’t care a fig if I die? Rather disappointing.”

  “Richard, they’ll be devasted. They all love you. Of course, they want you to be with them forever. This will absolutely break their hearts.”

  “I should bloody well hope so! But, damn me, Amanda, I really did miss you.”

  “I know, dearest, I know. Well, we are together again, and this time forever – or, until one chooses to return… Oops. Never mind about that, I’ll explain later. As for the children, they love you to distraction; they will honor you for the rest of their lives and never forget you. We both will be remembered with tremendous love, through our children and generations to come.”

  “All right, all right, don’t over sell it.” Fitzwilliam turned at the sound of Darcy opening the door and frantically calling for the butler. “Poor fellow. He’s been my rock for so long, my conscience, my brother. My friend. I hate that I’m hurting him like this.”

  “He’ll be with us soon, dear, and Lizzy shortly after. This is life, Richard; and, strangely enough death plays a large part. We are all presented with experiences, challenges, good and bad, that test our mettle, our character, our faith, our integrity. Darcy is an exemplary man. His descendants will call him blessed.” She kissed her husband’s cheek then took his hands in hers.

  “Listen to me, Richard, for once. For all your bluster about wanting the children to miss you, you will not wish to be here when they arrive. I remember watching you and the children in mourning. It was very difficult.”

  For a moment Fitzwilliam studied his old friend. “You’re right of course – do you never tire of being right?”