On Familiar Prides – A Pride and Prejudice Variation
Copyright © 2020
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or any portion thereof, in any form whatsoever, unless in a review. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Book cover design and interior formatting by Rebecca Garcia of Dark Wish Designs. www.darkwishdesigns.net
Editing Services provided by Angie Wade of Novel Nurse Editing. www.novelnurseediting.com
ISBN: 9798645852498
Dedication
This book is dedicated to all the
Jane Austen fans who continue to wonder
“What if?”
1824
Elizabeth Bennet Wellesley
Nassau
We arrived in Nassau this morning, and while it was good to see my father again, his line of questioning at dinner has me mortified. He knew all along that Captain Max Sterling is indeed Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, but I found out not but twenty-four hours ago. My head is spinning, and frankly, it is making me dizzy.
I should have never expressed my feelings and concerns to my father, but like always, I did. It backfired. He totally humiliated me. It felt like the walls were closing in on me, and I had to leave the room. Now back in my room, I feel no different. The change of scenery did not help. I still feel claustrophobic, and I am having trouble breathing. Calm yourself, I think. He loves you, and he made it quite clear he would do anything in his power to keep you. Is that not enough?
The questions in my head will not stop, and I surely do not know what to think. Oh good Lord. How on earth did I get myself in such a pickle?
If I lived in a perfect world, I would spend the rest of my days with Max, or Mr. Darcy. I do not even know how to address him. But I do not live in a perfect world. There is, however, one thing I do know without a doubt: I love him. I love him with every fiber of my being, and when I think about leaving him, I feel such an aching hole in my heart. What do I do?
After several minutes of contemplating what the future might bring for Thomas and me, there comes a knock at my inner door. I never asked where that door leads, but I assume it’s to Max’s bedchamber. When I arrived and Maggie showed me my room, she pointed out that his room was right next to mine.
Uncertainly, I ask, “Who is it?”
“It is I,” Max says in that incredibly sultry voice of his.
I am not going to win this… I will not be able to let him go. Hesitantly, I reply, “Come in.”
The door slowly opens. I half expect him to be waving a white flag as he enters the room. He knows I am upset about the conversation at dinner, and I am certain he knew my sudden departure was not because I am unwell. “I think we need to talk,” he says.
“I do believe you are correct,” I reply.
He gestures toward the bed, indicating his desire to sit next to me, and asks, “May I?”
“You may.”
He sits next to me, and I immediately feel the heat pulsating between us. There is a connection between us that neither of us can deny. We knew it eleven years ago, and we know it now.
He is extremely close, and even though he is dressed more appropriately than he was on the ship, he is still very sexy. His long hair is tied back, and his shirt is buttoned. I cannot help but chuckle to myself when I think back to the early days of our first acquaintance. He definitely does not wear the clothes he did then, but at least he is more decent than he was on the ship. He had always been handsome, even back then, but I find I prefer his more relaxed manner of attire. He reaches up and tucks a loose curl of hair behind my ear and caresses my face. I cannot help but lean into his hand.
“I am glad we are finally alone,” he says. He takes a deep breath. “I hope you do not mind that I put you in this particular bedchamber.”
“No, I do not mind.”
He is trying to make small talk, obviously avoiding the pertinent things we need to discuss.
Finally, I say, “Max, I am very sorry about my father’s impertinence tonight. He should not have pried into your private affairs—”
“Elizabeth, my love,” he says, cutting me off. “You have no reason to be sorry. Your father loves you and Thomas very much. He is a father who wants what is best for his daughter and grandson. I would not expect anything less of him.”
“Yes, he does love us, but he still should not have brought up your attachments or lack thereof at dinner. It was very thoughtless of him,” I reply.
“No, Elizabeth, it was not thoughtless. It was the act of a father who is concerned about the happiness of his most beloved daughter. I find no fault in his questions.”
“Oh, really?” I give him a sideways glance. “Now you really do surprise me.” I turn to look at him curtly. “Eleven years ago, you would have called him out for being so impertinent.” My indignation rises. “As a matter a fact, I remember you even saying that my family… now what was it? Oh yes, ‘lacked propriety.’ Did I get that right?” I ask sarcastically. I sound angry, but surely he knows I am teasing. All of that is in the past, but I cannot miss the opportunity to remind him of what an ass he was.
He looks at me in surprise and then leans in very close to my ear. His breath on my neck makes my skin prickle with excitement, and my breathing grows heavy. My heart is beating so loudly, I am sure he can hear it. Very softly, he feathers kisses behind my ear and down my neck, speaking as he goes in a very sexy whisper. “Eleven years ago, I said those exact words. Eleven years ago, I would have taken notice of his impertinence. But what you have failed to see is that I not only changed my name, Elizabeth, I changed myself. I am not the man you knew eleven years ago, nor do I want to be. I am the man now who loves you beyond reason, who wants nothing more than to take you in his arms and love you until the morning hours.”
It is a good thing I am sitting because my entire body is going weak. I lean into him and turn my head to face him. We are so close, and I wait quite impatiently for his lips. He comes in closer, and his lips graze mine, teasing me beyond sanity. When I try to take what I want from him, he backs away and chuckles.
“You are mean and hateful, Max Sterling!” I chide.
He continues to laugh as he rises to his feet. He reaches for my hand and pulls me up against him. I refrain from looking at him for fear I will lose all reason, but his hand guides my chin until our eyes meet. “I love you, Elizabeth Bennet Wellesley. I will love you until the day I die.”
When he is finished talking, he takes my mouth with a fierceness I have never experienced before. His kiss totally consumes me, and I kiss him back with the same ferocity. His hands travel my body with urgency, making me want nothing more than to undress him. I reach up to unbutton his shirt until it is left hanging open, just as he’d worn it on the ship. My hands roam over his rock-hard abdomen, and when I run a finger down the hairline that travels from his chest to his waistband, his breath hitches and he releases a soft moan.
He takes a step back and gazes at me. “Take what you want from me because every part of my being is yours,” he pleads.
I step closer again and unbutton his trousers. My hands travel around his pant line, and I swear I can feel him trembling at my touch. I drop his pants. My hands roam over his behind and then make their way to his manhood. He is magnificent, and I find it difficult to take my eyes from him. I gently push him toward the bed, and when his legs hit the side, I give him another push so he falls onto the bed. I remove my dress and undergarments until I am just as naked. Since we’ve been traveling by ship, I have been forced to wear more simpler attire, not having a lady’s maid and all. I have to say, I do not miss the corsets at all. I crawl on top of him, taking in his muscled body.
“You are driving me crazy, my love,” he says as I trail kisses along his pelvic bone. When my lips hover over his erection, he moans, and when my lips touch him, he growls. It only encourages me further as I take him completely into my mouth and suck. The sounds coming from him are primal and excite me more. He is so hard and velvety smooth at the same time, and he has a salty taste; it is intoxicating. It is powerful to know I can bring a man like him so much pleasure.
“My love, if you do not stop now, I am afraid I will not be able to stop my release,” he says breathlessly.
I continue my exploration of him, and not long after his plea, I hear one final deep growl as his juices shoot into my mouth. I know not what has come over me, as I have never done this before, but when I looked at his naked body, all I could think about is what it would be like to taste him. Now I know, and I also know I will never be able to get enough of him.
I crawl up his body and find his lips. I kiss him completely and am sure he can taste himself on my tongue. It is one of the most erotic moments of my life, one I will never forget as long as I live.
“You are perfection, Elizabeth, pure perfection,” he says, completely sated. “May I have a turn now?”
“A turn?” I question. “Why, whatever do you mean?” I tease.
He rolls me over and positions me on my back. Resting on his heels, he kneels between my legs and stares at my naked body.
He is making me feel a bit self-conscious so I have to ask, “Max? What are you doing?”
He does not answer.
“Max?” I ask again.
Still nothing. It is as if he is transfixed by something and absolutely cannot remove his eyes from my body. He is starting to scare me.
“Max!” I say more firmly.
He finally moves his gaze from my body to my face and says, “You are the most beautiful thing my eyes have ever beheld.”
“You are not so bad yourself, Captain Sterling,” I reply.
He braces himself with his hands on either side of my shoulders and leans in to kiss me. He takes complete control of my mouth and then trails kisses down my body. When he reaches my core and his velvety tongue slips through my folds, he ignites a fire in me that will not extinguish.
As he continues with his ministrations, I totally lose sight of reason. All forms of reality slip away, and I am falling into what I can only believe to be heaven. My body begins to tremble, and as much as I try to push him away because the pressure is so intense, he continues. Before I know it, my body is finding its release in the most earth-shattering orgasm I have ever experienced. Even after I reach my climax, he continues to lick my juices, which only excites me more. The urgency burns. I have to have him inside me. I can no longer wait.
I reach down and tug at his shoulder, encouraging him to come to me. “Max, now. Please?”
He looks up at me and says, “Your wish is my command, my love.”
When he enters me, he slips in slowly, and the fullness of having him inside me is intoxicating. Once completely inside, he moves in and out as my womanhood clenches onto him greedily. The friction is intoxicating, and again my body feels the pressure of another orgasm. Just as I am about to release again, Max shudders and we reach our climax together. This is pure heaven. There is no other way to describe it.
Being with this man is unlike anything I have experienced before, and I realize I cannot live without him. I know I love him, but before tonight, I believed I also loved him enough to let him go. But now, I am certain. I am selfish, and I will not let him go. I love him so much, to the effect that I am nothing without him. We will make this work!
Afterward, we lie in bed, his arm around me as my head rests upon his chest.
“How do you like the island?” he asks.
“It is beautiful, Max, really beautiful. This tropical paradise of a life seems to suit you. I remember when I first made your acquaintance; you were all stuffed shirt and proper. You are more relaxed now, more carefree.” I hope he will understand what I am trying to say without coming out and saying the words.
“I assume you think I cannot be this relaxed back at Pemberley or wherever we may choose to live?”
Now he is being presumptuous. “We?” I ask.
“Of course we. I have been trying to tell you for several days now, and I cannot seem to get through that thick skull of yours. I am not leaving you. I have waited eleven years for you, eleven very long and lonely years without you. I meant every word I said at dinner. You are all I have ever wanted. I have come alive again in your presence, and I will not allow my heart to be absent from you again,” he says adamantly.
“Max, are you really serious about all this? Are you willing to give all this up for me and Thomas?”
“Without a doubt,” he replies. “But this is not entirely my decision. What are your thoughts about all of this?”
“Honestly?”
“You know I would not expect you to be anything less than honest with me.”
“Well, prepare yourself for something dreadful. When I left the Absolution today, I had every intention of telling you this would not work. I had every argument ready for when you refused to listen to me. I was even prepared to make my arrangements to leave the island as soon as possible, even if it meant that I would have to endure another ocean voyage so quickly—but, most importantly, even if it meant I would leave you.”
“But you did not.”
“No, I did not. Up until about an hour ago, I was planning to do all of that.”
“And now?”
“And now,” I say in return. For the first time in my life, I am at a loss for words. I know what I want to say, and I know how I feel, but somehow, I am finding it difficult to express my feelings to him.
“Elizabeth?” he asks eagerly. I cannot see his face, but I feel his gaze upon me. It bores into me with an intensity I can feel without seeing it. It gives me the courage to say what needs to be said.
“And now, I cannot imagine ever being parted from you. I never thought I would feel this way about another human being, but my feelings are so very strong, and they are so new to me. Do not get me wrong; I loved my husband very much. He was a good man, steadfast and strong, and I respected him. But with you, my love goes so much deeper. With you, there is a connection between us that I do not understand and doubt I ever will. With you, there is passion and heat. When I look at you, I lose all sense of reason and want nothing more than to be lost in you. I have never felt love like this before, and I have finally realized that I do not ever want to be without it again. You are intoxicating and all-consuming to me.”
When I finish, he remains silent. I cannot see his face, as I am still resting my head on his chest as we lie in bed. I so want to see his expression, for I am feeling that perhaps I overstepped and said too much. Oh God, please say something, I plead to myself.
After several minutes of agonizing silence, he finally speaks. “Do you have any idea how happy you have made me? I have loved you for so long… to have you in my arms and you telling me you have the same feelings is like a dream come true for me.”
“If it is any indication as to how happy you have made me, then I think I may have a pretty good idea how happy you are,” I say teasingly. However, we both know we cannot stay on this island, and we both know I must return to England. The question hangs in the room like a black cloud, waiting for one of us to ask it.
I have learned how Max can avoid things like this, as his life at sea made him more carefree. Mr. Darcy would have asked the question already. I still find it hard to believe they are the same man and find it even harder to refer to him as Fitzwilliam or Mr. Darcy. He is my Max. But I know that when we do return to England, things will be different. I just hope they do not change too much.
The silence was unbearable and so I relented. “Now that we have made our feelings for one another clear, where do we go from here?”
He takes a deep breath and sighs without saying anything. I get the feeling I am not going to like what he is about to say.
Instead of responding to my question, he asks, “How long were you originally planning to stay on the island?”
“About a month,” I reply.
“Good,” he says.
I wait for him to elaborate, but he does not. “Good? That is all you are going to say, good?” I ask incredulously.
He laughs.
“Max, I do not find this funny. I am trying to have a serious conversation with you, and you laugh.”
He bends his head over and kisses the top of my head. “I know, my love, but sometimes I love to watch you squirm. You have such a teasing nature, and it is most enjoyable to see the tables turned on you. What was it you once said to me? Let me think… you and Caroline Bingley were thinking of ways to punish me for my assumptions as to why you were walking about the room at Netherfield. When it was suggested that perhaps you would tease me, it was clearly noted I am not to be teased. And your response was so endearing to me. You said, ‘That is an uncommon advantage, and it would be a great loss to me to have many such acquaintances, for I dearly love a laugh.’ Do you remember?”
“I do. I believe Caroline was trying to get your attention in any way she could, and I was merely trying to find fault in you.”
“You were always trying to find fault in me,” he quickly reminds me.
“Perhaps I was in love with you then and I did not know it. I was so angry with you all the time. Anger is a form of passion, like love, so I must have been channeling one passion for the other.” I pause for a moment and look up at him. “You just said my response to you was endearing. Why?”
“I found it endearing because at that moment I realized I did not laugh enough. I thought about all the times I had laughed and could not remember one. So from that day forward, I made a bargain with myself to laugh more and hopefully become more likeable in your eyes.”
His words touch me. “How could you have loved me then? It was so early in our acquaintance, and I was dreadful toward you.”
“Elizabeth, when I first made your acquaintance at the Meryton Assembly, you were the only one in the room who caught my attention. As much as I tried to avoid you and as much as I told myself that your connections were beneath mine, I could not stay away. I was in love even before I knew it. You had bewitched me like no other woman had before.”
“You insulted me the first night,” I say to remind him.
“Did we not already discuss this? Are you going to be one of those wives who always points out her husband’s faults every time they argue or have a hiccup in their relationship?” he asks.
He has changed so much. We have wasted so much time, I think to myself. Wait… wives? “So now you have conveniently got me off subject, but I need to know, Max. What happens next?”
“I said ‘good’ because a month will give me plenty of time to tie up loose ends here. You, Thomas, and your father will be able to visit with your aunt and enjoy the island. I will prepare for our departure.”
“So you will be leaving with us? How will we return to England?” I ask.
“Elizabeth, my love, I am still a ship’s captain, am I not?”
“Oh yes, and you not only have one ship, but two now,” I reply smartly.
“No, you are incorrect. I only have one.”
“But what about the Amity?” I ask curiously.
“I have sent word to New York, to the Black Ball Line. I am returning the ship to them.”
“But why?” I do not understand his actions. He is a pirate. Do they not plunder ships, keeping their haul as well as the ship?
“Because my pirating days are over. I have no use for two ships. As I told you before, I only did all of this to fund the foundation. I am not saying that robbing these ships was the right thing to do, but it gave me purpose, which is what I needed then. I really hate to think about what would have happened to me if I had not had purpose. I was spiraling out of control. I probably would have destroyed Georgiana’s life as well as my own.”
“I am sorry. I wish I had known,” I say. I am sad for him and how I had driven him to such despair.
“I am not sorry, Elizabeth. And please, do not be sad. Looking back, I am glad you rejected me. You changed my life and made me a better man. As much as I wanted you to love me back, I would not change anything that has happened over the last eleven years. Everything that did happen eventually brought me back to you.”
“If you insist. I suppose when I think about it, if things had been different, I would not have met Bash. Most importantly, I would not have my Thomas, so I have to agree with you. Fate brought us back together when the time was right.” I pause and ask, “So you were saying, we head back to England in a month and you will be coming with us?”
“That is correct.”
“Are you sure you are ready to return to London society?”
“No, but with you by my side, I will adapt. After all, it was my way of life longer than being a pirate was.” He laughs.
I cannot help the smile that comes across my face. He really does laugh more now. “And your estate here?”
“Well, if you are amenable to the suggestion, I would like to keep it. I have plenty of staff who can take care of it. And it would give us a place to visit on holiday.” He kisses the top of my head and then says, “But I do have an ulterior motive for keeping it. I should like to hope that once Thomas is grown and has assumed his father’s duties, you and I might consider returning here to live.”
“You really like the island?”
“Next to you, my love, it is paradise,” he replies lovingly.
“When we return to England, I assume you will cut your hair?”
“I suppose I shall have to.”
“And the facial hair?”
“Yes, I believe it will need to go as well.”
“And you most likely will not walk around with your shirt open, as you did on the Absolution?”
He chuckles. “Uh, no, I do not think that would be proper. It is definitely not something Fitzwilliam Darcy would do.”
“Oh,” I say sadly. I was teasing, as I knew the answer to all my questions, but I love his pirate side and am a little afraid his return to England will ruin a part of him.
“Why do you ask such questions?”
“Because I love that sexy side of you.”
“Oh, my dearest Elizabeth. The sexy side of me will not change. It will just have to be a little more private and keep to our home and bedchamber.” He squeezes me tightly. “So you never answered my question. Would you want to return to the island someday?”
“On one condition.”
“And that is?” he asks.
“That you grow your hair long and look like a pirate again.”
We both laugh as we snuggle closer together. We have talked for so long, I think we both are tired. It is not long before sleep takes us both.
Captain Sterling
For the next several weeks, Elizabeth, Thomas, and Mr. Bennet spend time with their family on the island. Elizabeth’s aunt has attended several dinners at my home, and I find I really enjoy their company. It is ironic that I have lived on this island for eleven years and never knew Elizabeth had family here. Coincidence? No, this was fate. She brought Elizabeth back to me, and I will never again question fate’s ability to manipulate a scenario.
While my guests enjoy all the island has to offer, I have been diligently making preparations for our return to England. There are many details I must secure on the island as well as back home before our departure. I have already sent word to Richard of our return, which he will most likely receive as we are about to set sail. Georgiana has already planned to leave around the same time as us, so it will work out that she can return on my ship. In all her time on the island, she has not yet sailed with me. I hope she will be impressed by how good of a captain her brother has become.
All the arrangements have been made. The Absolution will no longer be a pirate ship but a ship to sail between Liverpool and the West Indies, carrying imports from the islands to England under the flag of the Calico Trading Company. Smead and the crew will remain and receive steady wages. In a matter of a couple weeks, my pirating days are over and I am in legitimate business. My profits from the new company will continue to support Adelia Baxter’s Foundation for the Less Fortunate.
I asked Maggie to stay on in Nassau and manage the estate, but she had developed quite a kinship with Mr. Bennet and decided she would be returning to England with us. Although I was happy for her and Mr. Bennet, I was left without someone I trusted to maintain my home.
A fortnight prior to our departure, I am working in my study when Georgiana knocks on the open door.
“May I have a minute, Fitzwilliam?” she asks.
“Of course, dear. What is it?”
“Well, Winston and I have been talking, and… well, you know how fond we are of this island and your home here.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, if you agree, we would like to stay here until you return. Winston wants to learn the trade business, and I think this would be good for us both. And you need someone to remain here to look after your interests.”
She is trying to convince me that she and Winston are the best choice, but she should know it is completely unnecessary. Besides Richard and Elizabeth, there is not another soul on Earth who I would trust more to look after my affairs than my sister. “Georgiana? Are you sure? I mean, I would love to have you manage things here, and I think you and Winston would love it, but are you sure you want to give up all that England has to offer you?”
“I do. I know it has been many years, but every time Winston and I go out in public I am always afraid I will run into him,” she says sadly.
My poor sister… I immediately knew whom she was referring to. I did not know she still suffers from the ramifications of George Wickham. If I could, I would take all her pain from the awful ordeal. Perhaps staying here on the island would be the perfect solution for her. “Well, if you and Winston are sure, I think it is a splendid idea.” Since we are departing in a couple of weeks, this new development will require me to delay our departure from the island, but I am hopeful it will not be too long. Now I must spend time with Winston to familiarize him with my affairs…and there is one other thing I need to attend to, which at first I did not believe we would have time to do.
Upon our return to England, Elizabeth and I plan to marry once the banns are read, but I want us to marry here on the island as well. We both love the island and having a beautiful tropical island wedding would be something different for Elizabeth.
I spend the next two weeks preparing Winston for his new duties, as well as planning a small wedding. This wedding is a surprise to Elizabeth, so I make sure Maggie and Georgiana are on board to help with the details.
Everything is going according to plan, and we will be departing in two days. Tomorrow is my wedding day, and I feel like a young boy. My life has come full circle, and Elizabeth Bennet is finally going to become my wife.
I have found my absolution and am finally at peace.
March 1846 - Fitzwilliam Darcy
Pemberley Estate
I hold the letter I received yesterday in my shaking hands, reading the words over and over. I know who you are.
These five simple words could ruin everything Elizabeth and I have built together. Who could have sent this? And why now? It has been twenty-two years. Elizabeth and I have made a new and very happy life for us in England. We spend our winters at Pemberley and return to London every spring for the social season. We have always done what we were supposed to in acceptable society, and no one has ever made the connection between the notorious pirate who mysteriously disappeared twenty-two years ago and Fitzwilliam Darcy.
Until now.
I know this letter has to do with my past, but the questions remain who sent this, and why? And frankly, what am I to do about it? There is no indication as to who sent this, not even a return address. If this is a serious threat, they will make contact again. Perhaps whoever sent this just wants to rattle me? Perhaps they want money—or something worse.
Now that I think about it, why would someone send this just to rattle me? No, it is clear this person wants something from me, but what?
Leaning back in my chair, I lay the note on my desk. I close my eyes in an effort to remove the words from my mind. It does not work, and I am consumed with worry. Elizabeth will know. It will be challenging for me to hide this from her, but in this case, I must. She is busy getting ready for the ball tomorrow night, with Abigail’s debut and a slew of visitors. I cannot bother her with this now. Besides, I could be wrong, and nothing will come of it. I pick up the letter, fold it, and place it in my pocket. I have other letters to attend to, so I try to concentrate on them.
When news of Abigail’s debut reached London, the slew of invitations became overwhelming. It had been our daughter’s choice to delay her debut by a few years; therefore, many social affairs had been waiting for our announcement. For a time, I felt it was all I could do, to respond to social engagements. Today is no exception. I have accepted most of them, but in some cases, I must send our regrets. I swear I do not remember this many invitations when Georgianna had her debut, but that was a long time ago.
The thought of Georgianna makes me smile. My darling sister and Winston are thriving in Nassau. When she asked if she could remain on the island, I was hesitant. I really did not like the idea of her being so far away. It was different when I was in the islands and she was here in England. Richard looked after her, so I did not worry. Now, she is there alone.
Stop it, Fitzwilliam. She is not alone. She is with her husband, who is more than capable of caring for her. I admonish myself. My subconscious is correct, but it does not change how I will always be an overprotective older brother.
In the years we have been back in England, surprisingly enough, Georgianna and Winston have traveled here at least once a year. I am ashamed to say, I have not gone back. Every time Elizabeth suggests it, I find some excuse not to return. I fear that if I do, I will never want to return to England. Elizabeth has never said anything about our talk all those years ago about moving back to Nassau when Thomas was grown, so I believe it is fair to assume she prefers to remain in England. And, of course, we have our own children to think about as well. Abigail is two and twenty, and her younger brother, not yet sixteen.
At first I stayed away, to ensure Max Sterling remained dead to the world. Not that I was nor am embarrassed by my association with the persona I created, but I was a pirate and a thief, and although my intentions were good, it does not change how I would be considered a thief in the eyes of the crown. If the world discovered the connection, I would likely be tried and most certainly be hanged for my crimes. I shiver at the thought.
I am not afraid to die. What I did was wrong, but I have my wife and children to think about now. Plus, I am a selfish man. I have a happy and fulfilling life and do not want to give it up. The photograph of Elizabeth that sits on my desk catches my eye. I could never leave her. I reach into my pocket and pull out the letter.
Bloody hell, who could have sent this?
Maybe if I destroy the letter, the whole bloody mess will go away. Maybe not. For my own peace of mind, I decide it is best not to hang on to it. I would not want it to get in the wrong hands and most definitely would not want my wife to find it. In keeping it, I will continue to worry about it. With it eliminated, it will not be found and, I hope, gone from my head. I nod to myself. Yes, I will burn it.
I stand from my chair and walk to the fire blazing in the fireplace. It is early March, so there is still a chill in the air. The fire’s heat feels warm and comforting on my skin as I stand there and stare into the flames. Holding the letter out, I hesitate. Am I doing the right thing?
Yes! Burn it!
I drop the letter into the fire and watch as the pages crinkle and brown, then blacken as the flames engulf it.
Elizabeth
“Mrs. Darcy, the sample selections for tomorrow’s dinner are ready. If you should find the time, Mrs. Sims would like you to review them to ensure everything meets your approval,” Mrs. Reynolds says as she scurries after me. I have been overseeing the annual Darcy Regency Ball for twenty-two years now, and I would think it would get easier with time. However, it seems to be more involved with each coming year, with this year being no different and probably more of an event than ever. Our daughter, Abigail, is making her social debut tomorrow night, and although I have tried to remain calm over the past several weeks, I am a bit of a mess.
I also know we have reliable staff, and everything will go off tremendously as it usually does.
“I will make time, Mrs. Reynolds. I promise.” She follows me into the dining room where I find Colborne polishing the silver. “I trust, Colborne, you will make an end of this in plenty of time for the ball?”
He smiles the same reassuring smile he always gives me and replies, “Of course, madam. We shall not let you down.”
I grin. “Thank you, Colborne. Your reassurances do great things to my poor nerves.” Oh Lord, I sound like my mother, may she rest in peace. I can’t help but giggle to myself. I’m nothing like my mother, but being a mother myself, I find I understand her a little better these days. She may have been impertinent most of the time, but in her heart, she always wanted the best for her daughters—and, of course, to always have one up on Mrs. Lucas.
I look toward Mrs. Reynolds. “Are the rooms prepared?”
She nods.
“And the fires?”
“They are being prepared as we speak, madam.”
I stop and take a look at the ballroom. It is spectacular in all its beauty and grace, and I cannot help but smile. I look over at Mrs. Reynolds. “Abigail will be pleased.”
“Indeed she will.”
We stand there in silence. I cannot believe my precious little princess is making her debut. I mean, I remember it as if it were yesterday when I first learned I was with child. We were on a ship returning from Nassau. Fitzwilliam and I had wed in Nassau but not in England; however, we rectified that as soon as we returned. Our time here has not been easy. It took Fitzwilliam quite some time to adjust, but he did. He did it all for Thomas and me at first. Then we had our own children to think about, Abigail and our son, Fitzwilliam, whom we call Will.
When Thomas became of age, he took on his duties and responsibilities of the Duke of Grafton, relieving me of one of the many ties that kept me in England. I believed Fitzwilliam would have wanted to return to the islands then, but he did not. When I asked him about it, his response was always the same: “Our children belong in England.” When I would suggest a visit, there was always something that took precedence. I decided then and over the years that I would not push the subject. Perhaps when our son is of age, Fitzwilliam will consider going back. I never understood why we never came up with a plan to return as the Darcys after Thomas had taken over his father’s responsibilities, but Fitzwilliam never brought it up, and so I let it go.
There are many times I dream of those carefree days on the ship and the island, the balmy breeze from the ocean blowing in my hair. Well, of course we cannot forget being kidnapped by pirates. I giggle again. If we had not been kidnapped, I most likely would never have found Fitzwilliam again. And well, that is just completely unacceptable. We have a wonderful life, and my love for him grows stronger every day.
“Forgive me, Mrs. Darcy, but Mrs. Sims—”
“No apologies Mrs. Reynolds,” I say, cutting her off when she brings me back from my memories. “You are perfectly right. Mrs. Sims is waiting. Shall we?”
She smiles and nods and walks with me toward the kitchens.
As I walk into the kitchen, I hear, “Mrs. Darcy.”
At the mention of my name, the entire staff, who is diligently working, stop what they are doing and stand to face me. Will they ever stop treating me like royalty?
“Mrs. Sims.”
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Darcy.”
“So what are our selections for the ball?”
She walks me to a long table where several dishes are laid out. “I have prepared these for tasting.” At the beginning of the table, she points at the first dish and says, “Caviar cucumber canapés.”
I grab one from the corner of the tray and gently place it in my mouth. The cucumber is refreshingly crisp and the dill and lemon zest add the perfect zing to the bite. “Delicious.”
She continues down the table. “Cream of mushroom soup and poached salmon with hollandaise sauce.” She offers a taste of each, and I nod my approval and moan. “Mmm, very good.”
“We move on to the third course, duck confit and seafood Newburg.”
I taste them both. “You have outdone yourself, Mrs. Sims,” I say. “The food is truly magnificent.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Darcy, but you know, we can have nothing but the best for Miss Darcy.”
I smile. Abigail has always been a favorite with the staff and quite different from many ladies her age who have grown in a household such as Pemberley. When she was young, she was always eager to learn things beyond what was expected of her, like cooking and keeping house. It always pleased Fitzwilliam and me. So we encouraged her and never thought it smart to stop her. Our daughter not only knows how to run a household of her own, she knows how to cook, bake, and mend, as well as other various duties in which she will most likely have staff to do for her.
She is also quite accomplished. She speaks four different languages, plays the pianoforte, sings, and paints in both watercolors and oils. She has even gone as far as to memorize every member of the monarchy, peerage and gentry, including their family backgrounds. As if that were not enough, she is also well learned in classical history and geography.
I chuckle to myself. I remember many years ago a conversation with Fitzwilliam about what constitutes an accomplished woman. When he referred to all these things, I believe I stated something to the effect of how someone who accomplished them would be fearsome to behold. I smile. Yes, my Abigail is something to behold, and I could not be more proud of her.
“And we are not finished yet,” Mrs. Sims says, taking me from my thoughts again.
She walks farther down the table. I believe we are on the fourth course. She points to several dishes and says, “Steak chasseur and lamb with mint sauce.”
She pauses while I take a taste, but when I nod she steps forward.
“Moving on, we have roasted chicken, spinach salad with goat cheese, toasted walnuts and pears, crab and celery salad, and Lyonnaise potatoes and creamed carrots.”
It’s a good thing I have not had lunch yet. I am quickly filling up on all these delicious samples.
“And finally, the finishing touch.” She smiles. “Chocolate almond cake, pond pudding, and crêpes Suzette.”
“Mrs. Sims, sheer perfection. I am most pleased, and I am sure Mr. Darcy”—I grin—“and Miss Darcy will be just as pleased. Well done.”
I’m feeling a bit tired, and the last thing I want is to not be up to receive our guests who are arriving this afternoon. I turn toward Mrs. Reynolds. “I think I shall go lie down for a bit.”
“You will not be having luncheon?” she asks.
I look at the food splayed out on the table before us. “I believe I already have.” I giggle, and she joins me.
“You go and rest, madam. We have this under control.”
“Well then, I leave everything in your capable hands.” I turn to leave but then stop. “Have you seen Mr. Darcy?”
She shakes her head. “Not since early this morning when he was in his study.”
I nod and turn again to leave. I realize I have not seen Fitzwilliam since breakfast. We both took an early breakfast to prepare for tomorrow evening, but he seems to have disappeared.
Before going upstairs to our bedchamber, I decide to find my husband. He may be busy, but he will have to make time to give me a quick kiss before I lie down. I make my way to his study and find the door closed. I knock, but there is no answer, so I turn the knob and enter.
I find him standing before the fire, while a paper in the fireplace is burning. “Fitzwilliam?”
He continues to stare at the fire.
“Darling?” I ask.
Something is not right. He is continuing to stare at the paper burning in the flames.
I know what will get his attention. “Max?”
He turns toward me, startled. “Do not call me that again!” he states firmly in a raised voice.
I am taken aback by the harshness of his words, as well as by what he says. He has always loved it when I call him Max. His past was a secret we shared that made us both happy. For if it were not for his past, we may have never found each other again. What has brought on his anger? And what was he burning? His behavior has truly piqued my curiosity.
I walk toward him and snake my arms around his waist. “Are you all right, my love?” I feel it is best to not ask him right away about his outburst. After all, I did startle him.
The lines on his face soften, and he smiles. “Forgive me, Lizzie. I was just in deep thought.”
I nod. “Is something the matter?”
He takes his hand and gently caresses my cheek. “Not at all. Just having a difficult time letting my little girl go.”
I know he is lying. I know this is difficult for him, but he is using the ball as a cover to what is really bothering him. I decide to let it go, for now. “She is not leaving us yet. She will need a suitor first.”
He chuckles. “I know, but is that not the next step?” He turns and pulls me into his arms. “You and I both know it will not be long now before she is off with her husband, building a life together of their own.”
“I guess it is.” I squeeze him a hug, and he squeezes back, holding me tight and close. It feels as if he is holding on so tightly in an effort to hang on to something. Is that something me, and is he seriously afraid he may lose me? Surely he knows that will never happen. Everything in me wants to ask him about it, but we have always been open and honest with each other, so he must not be ready to talk about it. I know that when he is ready, in time, he will tell me.
When we break our hug, he says, “So what have you been doing this morning?”
I laugh. “Organizing and planning a ball.”
“Pfft, piece of cake for you. You are an expert in that field.”
“I think you have been sneaking the brandy, darling,” I tease.
“Perhaps,” he says, teasing back.
“I was just about to go lie down and thought you might like to join me.”
He hesitates. “I’m sorry, love, but I have some business to take care of that cannot wait. Forgive me?”
I do not think he has ever rejected me before. I try to not let it bother me and smile instead, though I am afraid it comes across as more of a frown. I try to keep the disappointment from my tone and my response light. “I shall be terribly lonely without you.”
When no response is given, I turn and walk toward the door.
“Lizzie,” he calls.
Facing him, he continues, “Tell me you still love me.”
“It would serve you right if I do not even grace your request with an answer, but since you seem out of sorts today, I will give you a reprieve. Of course I still love you, more today than ever. Every day, I love you more and more.” I turn back toward the door and as I am about to turn the knob, I feel his presence behind me. He comes in close and nuzzles his nose in my neck.
“I love you, Lizzie,” he says breathlessly. He kisses the tender spot behind my ear and says, “You are my world.”
I lean into him as he holds me close. “Fitzwilliam, are you all right?” I ask again. He seems so desperate. This is so unlike him.
He steps back. “I am, darling, just feeling melancholy this morning. That is all.”
I nod. “If you insist. I will not push. I shall see you later.”
“Have a good rest, my love. Until later.”
Fitzwilliam
I have always been a man who hated deceit. I have always been truthful, and even though it is something to be admired, it has gotten me into trouble in the past, especially with Elizabeth. I shake my head when I think of how my honesty regarding her circumstances cost us so much. Now, going against everything I believe in, I have lied to my wife. Other than not telling her who I was all those years ago and allowing her to believe her father was in danger, I have not lied to her until today. Granted, those were both pretty big lies, but they were necessary and a means to an end I so desperately wanted.
The words of the letter echo in my head, a reminder of how burning it did nothing to remove them from my mind. I cannot shake the feeling this is not going to go away. I cannot shake the feeling that whoever this person is, they intend to destroy me and my family.
I wait to give Elizabeth plenty of time to retire to our bedchamber before I step out of my study to see how things are progressing for tomorrow night. I know my wife has everything under control. She is a master at planning these events for everyone. She makes me so proud. Who would have thought that in the midst of her humble beginnings, she would wear the title of Mistress of Pemberley with such grace? I know I sound like the old Darcy, but I say it with all the love in my heart. I always knew it, but those who shall remain anonymous have had to swallow their pride in light of my wife’s success.
I think back to when I first met Elizabeth and struggled with my attraction toward her. Her mother was most improper. She was brash and said many things which were simply inappropriate. I knew I loved Elizabeth, even early in our acquaintance, but the impropriety shown by her mother and younger sisters could not go unnoticed. Our foolish pride got in the way of our happiness. Misunderstanding each other cost us eleven long years.
I was not a bad man in those days, but I definitely had much to learn about people. Elizabeth helped me with that. To my own defense, I was governed by society. I did what my father did and his father before him. Elizabeth taught me that although society standards are there for a reason, accepting them blindly can come at great cost. Eleven years, to be exact.
Some members of Elizabeth’s family will be arriving soon, but not all. Her father and Maggie got married not long after we returned to England. They lived at Pemberley Cottage until they both passed away, within a couple weeks of each other if I remember correctly. I know my wife still feels the loss of her father as I do my own father’s passing. It is something one never really gets over.
Mary, Kitty, and Lydia, Elizabeth’s sisters, were sent to school after Jane married Bingley. I am pleased to say the school they attended has turned them into gentle ladies, all married to respectable husbands, and they have families of their own. They live too far away and will not be attending the ball, but hopefully we will meet up with them once we arrive in London. Jane and Bingley will be arriving to Pemberley today. When they were young, our children all played together. Now that they are older and have matured, they visit, like Bingley and I did as young men
Tomorrow, Richard will arrive. We lost Aunt Catherine a few years back, and once she passed, Anne, Lady Catherine’s daughter, and Richard married. I always knew they were meant to be together, but Lady Catherine could never get over me marrying Elizabeth and not her daughter. Anne and I would have made each other miserable, of that I am sure. It is most unfortunate how Anne and Richard had to wait, but they were happy for a time, until Anne passed away a few years back.
I make my way into the dining room and smile. Everything is perfect, as I expected. My wife would not have it any other way. Perhaps I am biased, but my daughter deserves the best. She is such an endearing child. I scoff. She is not a child anymore, but as I told Elizabeth, she will always be my baby girl.
My son William is seven years younger than Abigail. I have watched him grow and learn over the years, and he reminds me so much of myself. He is almost a man now and will soon find himself a wife. Hopefully he will find a woman like his mother, and they will become the master and mistress of Pemberley.
As I walk through my home, I cannot help but think about this morning’s letter. Burning it did not make it go away, and I find I am taking stock of all I hold dear. If I am exposed, I will lose everything, including my good name, which to me would be the greatest loss next to my wife and children. I guess I never thought of the consequences when I made the decision to leave England in the first place, but then again, I never expected to return.
I decide to go find Elizabeth. I am feeling guilty about how I spoke to her last. I know she went to lie down, but I must apologize. She takes my brooding in stride and never seems to let it bother her, but this time, I could tell I left her feeling a bit uneasy.
I make my way upstairs to our bedchamber. When I arrive at the door, it is slightly ajar, and I hear talking inside. I peak in and find Abigail sitting on the bed next to Elizabeth. I pause for a moment and listen.
“So, my little princess, are you excited for tomorrow?” Elizabeth asks our daughter. I still cannot believe she is a woman and that she will have suitors. Suitors! The thought makes me cringe. Many will want to marry her for her dowry, but all Elizabeth and I want is for her to find love. I pray every day our prayers are answered. Hopefully the fortune hunters will be easily marked.
“Oh, Momma, I am,” she says but then hesitates. “But would you be disappointed in me if I told you I was nervous too?”
“Of course not. I think I would be more disappointed if you were not. It is a very natural thing to be nervous. I was.”
“You were? But, Momma, you are not afraid of anything. I wish I could be more like you.”
Elizabeth giggles. “Oh, my precious Abigail, you are more like me than you know. And you know what else? You have a little bit of your father in you too, which makes you even more special.
“But what if nobody asks me to dance?”
She pulls Abigail into a warm embrace. “Oh, sweetheart, I guarantee you will not have that problem. I fear too many will ask you to dance, and there will not be enough hours in the ball to accommodate them all.”
I knock softly on the door. “May I come in?”
Elizabeth smiles brightly at the sight of me. “Of course, Fitzwilliam.”
Abigail turns back toward the door. “Hello, Father.”
“Oh, how formal we are.”
Abigail laughs. “Well, Father, as you know, I am to be considered a grown-up now. I cannot keep calling you Daddy anymore. That is for children.”
I grin. “Oh, I see.” I walk farther into the room. “I am not interrupting anything?” I ask.
“Not at all,” Elizabeth replies. “We were just talking about the ball tomorrow night.”
“And of course our daughter will be the belle of the ball,” I say.
Abigail smiles and gets up from the bed. “I think perhaps I shall leave now.” She grins at me and gives me a hug. When she releases me, she walks to the door, turns back, and says, “Thank you, Momma.” She then turns and leaves the room.
I shake my head. “Why is it too immature for her to call me daddy, but she still calls you momma?” I ask teasingly.
“It is a mother-daughter thing, dearest. You would not understand,” she says, teasing back.
I walk to the bed and sit on the edge next to her.
“You seem to be in better spirits,” she says.
I look down at my hands. “I am sorry about earlier, darling.”
“You do not need to apologize to me. You obviously have business matters on your mind, and I respect that you are not ready to discuss them with me.”
I smile. “How did I get so lucky to have you as my wife?”
She laughs. “Frankly, I do not think luck had anything to do with it.”
“Think what you want, but I still believe I am the luckiest man on the earth.” I lean over and kiss her forehead. “Were you able to get some rest?”
“A little.” She yawns, and I notice she seems not tired but more exhausted or even drained.
“Are you feeling all right, my love?” I ask, concerned.
“I am…” She hesitates. “I just think all the planning is wearing me out.”
“That is very unlike you. Usually you thrive when planning these types of events.”
“Yes, Fitzwilliam, but this one is a little different. This is for Abigail, so it must be special.”
I smile. “Indeed it must.” I grab her hand. “You know, we have plenty of staff to handle things.”
She nods. “I know, and they are very capable. I just want everything to be perfect, and you know how I am. I must have my hands in all matters to ensure it.”
I chuckle. “Yes, I know. Jane and Bingley should be here soon. And Thomas and Anna will be here tomorrow.”
She sits up. “Oh goodness, I forgot they were coming tonight. I must get moving and freshen up. We must greet them.”
“Agreed. I will wait for you downstairs then?” I stand.
“Yes,” she says and gets up from the bed. “I shall be down directly.”
As I turn to leave, I stop at the door and turn back, “Lizzie?”
“Yes, dear?”
“No regrets?”
She smiles sweetly. “None whatsoever, my love.”
I nod, turning toward the door, and make my way back to my study.
Elizabeth
“Oh, Jane!” I pull my eldest sister into a loving hug. I have missed her so much. Although she and Bingley reside in just the next county, life seems to have taken over, and we never see each other as much as we would like.
“Lizzie!” Jane exclaims.
Bingley walks toward Fitzwilliam and holds out his hand. “Darcy,” he says and then gives me a slight bow.
Fitzwilliam then greets their son. “Master Henry,” he states with a bow.
Henry smiles and bows in return. He is seventeen and is growing up to be such a handsome young man. He has earned his mother’s good and gentle looks. I also know he fancies Abigail, but I am unsure of her affection toward him. Personally, I think she looks to him as more of a little brother than a suitor, but only time will tell. I will have to keep my eye on him at the ball and make note of how many times he asks Abigail to dance.
Oh dear Lord, I sound like my mother.
Bingley and Jane have two other children. Their older son, Charles, is the same age as my Thomas. The two attended Cambridge together and made us both very proud. They also have a daughter, Beatrice. She is one and twenty and is already married and settled, with a little one on the way. I simply dote on my niece and nephews and thoroughly enjoy when they come to visit.
“It is so wonderful to see you all. Come, I have already arranged for tea.” Fitzwilliam and I walk toward the parlor, while Jane, Bingley, and Henry follow us.
We sit as Colborne brings in the tea. Once we receive our cup, Jane asks, “I assume the duke and duchess will be arriving soon?”
I set my tea down on the table. “Yes, they should arrive later this evening.” Jane has always been most proper. Thomas is her nephew, but she still insists on referring to him as duke. Thomas and Anna were wed five years ago and have been residing at Grafton House. I do not get to see him as much as I wish, but I know he is busy. Sometimes it is really hard to accept, especially with Thomas.
After Bash died, it was just him and me for a very long time, but he has many responsibilities, and I am respectful of them. Anna is lovely, and it makes my heart swell to know my son married for love. They are very suited for each other.
“Thomas’s latest letter indicated they would be getting a late start and that we should not wait up for them.” I giggle and glance at my husband. “But you know I will.”
“As will I,” he says. We have not seen Thomas since Christmas and then, of course, they went on a month-long anniversary trip to Paris. Needless to say, we are both very excited to see them.
“How are Charles and Beatrice?” I ask.
Jane takes a sip of her tea. “They are quite well.” Setting her tea on the table she says, “I assume they wrote indicating they would not be able to attend the ball?”
“Of course they did. They said they would see us in London.”
“Lovely,” Jane replies.
We visit for a little while longer, and I see Jane politely yawn. “Perhaps you would like a rest, dear sister?” I ask.
“Oh, would you mind terribly?”
“Goodness no, we shall dine at eight.”
Jane stands from her chair. “Charles?”
Fitzwilliam interjects. “Actually, Charles, I was wondering if you have minute. There is something I would like to discuss with you in my study.” He looks over at me, and I nod. I am not sure why he needs my affirmation, but I give it to him all the same.
“Actually, Jane dear, I do not think I need a rest. I shall join Darcy in his study while you go lie down.” He walks toward her and kisses her on the cheek. “I’ll shall see you at dinner.”
Jane nods and looks at me.
“I will show you to your room,” I say as I stand too.
As we leave the room, I hear Fitzwilliam say to Henry, “Perhaps you might want to find William and Abigail. I really need to speak with your father in private.”
I wonder what that is all about.
When we step into the foyer, Colborne greets me and says, “Mrs. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mrs. Fitzwilliam just arrived. He is at the stables tending to his horse and should be here at the main house shortly.”
“Thank you, Colborne.” I turn back toward the parlor to let my husband know and practically run into him in the doorway. “Oh goodness, forgive me!”
He laughs, and I am happy to see that he is in much better spirits. “Colborne just informed me that Richard has arrived.”
“Oh, I was not expecting him until tomorrow.”
I smile and say, “Perhaps he wanted to surprise you.”
“Perhaps,” Fitzwilliam replies and then turns toward Colborne. “Please have the colonel join Mr. Bingley and I in my study when he arrives.”
Colborne nods. “Of course, sir,” he says but then hesitates. “Sir, before I forget…” He is holding a letter and hands it to my husband. “This letter arrived for you a few minutes ago.”
“Thank you, Colborne.” He takes the letter, and without another word, he walks away toward his study with Charles in tow.
I shake off the uneasiness I feel and proceed up the stairs. “I have arranged for you and Charles to have the same room you had for your last visit. I hope that is agreeable?”
“Oh, Lizzie, I do not believe there is a room in this house that is not agreeable. We will be most comfortable wherever you may put us.”
When we get to her room, I am pleased to see that Colborne has already had their trunk brought up. The maids are busy unpacking their things. It is a shame, really, to do all this unpacking, for we all leave for London in a fortnight, but we cannot expect our guests to live out of a trunk either.
“Lizzie, thank you so much for your hospitality.” She looks around the room in awe. “The room is lovely. I remember it from our last visit, but it is so extravagant.”
“Goodness, Jane, you are family. Nothing but the best for my family and Fitzwilliam’s dearest friend.” She giggles. “And Master Henry is just down the hall, in the bachelor’s corridor.”
She gives me another hug. “Thank you.”
“The thanks goes to you and Charles for spending this time with us, as well as traveling to London.” I give her a light kiss on the cheek. “Now get some rest. Be sure to ring the bell if you need anything.”
She nods, and I turn to leave the room.
I walk down the hall toward Master Henry’s room and am pleased to see his things are being unpacked as well. One thing I can say about the Pemberley staff is they are indeed truly efficient. Never have I had to worry about something not getting done. It is in my nature to ensure things get done, but every single time, I have not been disappointed.
Fitzwilliam
When Bingley and I step into my study, I walk directly to my desk, grab my letter opener, open the letter, and read.
Do you still seek Absolution, Captain Sterling?
I fold up the letter and throw it onto my desk. They are not going away.
“Darcy, what is it?” Bingley asks just as Richard walks into my study.
“Coltrane said you were expecting me,” Richard says.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam!” Bingley beams. He gives my cousin a slight bow, who then returns the greeting.
Richard looks back toward me and says, “Darcy, I dare say, are you well? You look like you are about to pass out.”
I shake my head. “Sit.” I walk around to the front of my desk and lean against the front. “I have something to tell you both.” Both Bingley and Richard know of my past. The only others who know are my wife and her sister Jane.
“It is that letter, is it not, Darcy? You were fine until you received that letter,” Bingley states.
“Yes, it is the letter. I had originally thought they would go away, but today’s letter indicates that whoever is sending these letters is not going away.” I pick it up and hand it to Richard. He reads it and then passes it to Bingley.
As Bingley is reading, Richard looks at me, rubs his hand over his chin, and says, “Bloody hell, Darcy. Do you know who sent it?”
I shake my head.
Bingley looks up. “How could anyone have found out? You kept both lives completely separate.”
I shrug. “I have no idea,” I say, defeated. Thinking of what these letters could cause makes my heart sink.
“You implied this is not the first?” Richard asks.
“No, there was another that came yesterday.”
Richard holds out his hand. “May I see it?”
I shake my head. “I burned it.”
“Do you think that was wise?” Richard asks.
“I did not think. I just wanted it to go away.”
“Well, what did it say?” Richard asks.
“I know who you are,” I reply
“Bloody hell,” Richard says again.
“You already said that.”
Richard stands and takes the letter from Bingley. After reading it again, he looks over at me. “Darcy, do not despair. I believe we can get to the bottom of these letters. We just need to be patient.” He paces the area in front of my desk. “First, we must wait and find out what the sender wants. We have no recourse until we are certain of that.”
“I agree,” I reply. “But what if the damage is done before they make their demands known?”
Richard shakes his head. “That will not happen. I believe it is obvious they are toying with you because they want something. And they will not jeopardize their gain by exposing you prematurely.” Richard hands the letter back to me and then returns to his seat.
“So we wait,” I say, trying to reassure myself in the process.
“Yes, I say you go on with the Regency Ball and your plans to travel to London,” Richard says. “The one thing you need to remember is they are watching you. Your outwardly demeanor should show no indication of worry or concern.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“Bullocks, Darcy, you can appear as cold as they come. Think back to the early days when you first met Elizabeth.”
Richard and Bingley chuckle, and I cannot help but join them. My cousin has a point. If I could do it then, surely I can do it now.
“I will just think about Elizabeth’s mother, God rest her soul.” We all erupt with laughter. I would have married Elizabeth regardless of her mother, but I am glad I do not have to deal with her on a regular basis.
“So, Richard, how are my aunt and uncle?”
“Lord and Lady Matlock are well and send their regrets. They are both up in years now, and the traveling would be too much for them.”
“I understand.”
Richard married our cousin Anne, Lady Catherine’s daughter. Anne was always sickly and passed away a few years back, not long after her mother had passed. I hate seeing him alone, but he did find some happiness for a time.
“How are Georgianna and Winston?” Bingley asks.
I smile. “We received a letter from them not but a week ago. They are quite well. The trading company is flourishing, and they still love living on the island.”
“Do you see them returning to England at all?” Bingley asks.
“Ah, I wish, but it is doubtful.”
“My dear cousin has found her home, Bingley. She writes constantly about the freedoms she has in Nassau,” Richard says.
“Well, Darcy, are you ready for Abi to make her debut?” Richard has always called my daughter Abi, but it could never stick with Elizabeth or myself. We have always preferred the more formal address. However, even Abigail prefers the latter, unless it comes from Richard. He has always doted on her, and she idolizes him. So we leave it as something special between them. “Any prospects?”
I shake my head. “I guess I am as ready as I will ever be. I have not received any requests to court her, but I assume after tonight, they will start coming in.” I look over at Charles. Elizabeth and I had always wished she and Henry would make a connection, but Charles has never mentioned it to me.
“I know Henry has asked if it would be proper for him to ask her for a dance tomorrow night. He was worried that since they grew up together, it may not be acceptable.”
I chuckle. “And I hope you told him she would welcome his invitation, although I feel she may find him too young.”
“I did.”
We spend the remainder of the afternoon in conversation, avoiding the subject of the mysterious letters, until it is time for us to dress for dinner.
After dinner, we have a brandy while the ladies visit in the parlor. It is always nice to spend time with family and old friends, and for a time, it has afforded me peaceful moments to forget about the threats.
Well into the night, I wake, finding myself restless. Thoughts of the threatening letter continue to fill my head. I feel as if I should know who is doing this, but as I go through our many acquaintances in my head, nobody comes to mind. You know who it is, Fitzwilliam, think!
I look over at my beautiful wife. I should tell her first thing, I think to myself. It’s not like I am hiding a past identity from her. I smirk. I have already done that. She knows who I was, and more importantly, she knows who I am. My thoughts scream, Then tell her!
I shake my head. No, she must not know. We have built an incredible life here, and someone is trying to destroy it. I will not cause any worry for Lizzie, my children, or myself. I shall fix this, and later, when our life is no longer under a threat, I shall tell Lizzie, and we both will laugh at how foolish I was.
Keep telling yourself that, Fitzwilliam, especially if it helps you sleep at night. But it is not going away.
Elizabeth
I wake to find that Fitzwilliam is already awake and has left our bedchamber. I look toward the window and discover it is still early. How unusual, I think to myself. Fitzwilliam is not one to lie in bed all morning, but he is not usually an early riser either. More times than not, it is me who awakes before dawn. It is the perfect time for a walk, and I find the morning air refreshing. I ring for Lane.
Sitting up in bed, I patiently wait for her to arrive, which is minutes after she is summoned. “Good morning, Mrs. Darcy,” she says cheerfully. “An exciting day at Pemberley awaits.” She walks to the windows and opens the drapes. The sun is rising and shines into the room.
“Good morning, Lane. It is an exciting day. Is Miss Darcy awake?”
She smiles. “Oh yes, ma’am. She has been awake for a couple of hours.” She walks to the bed and says, “I’m sure the excitement of her coming out has left her with little sleep.”
I chuckle. “I’m sure.”
“Are we having a walk this morning?”
“Yes, I believe so.” I get up from the bed as Lane walks to my wardrobe and lays out one of my day dresses. “Is Mr. Darcy at breakfast?”
“No, ma’am, he and the colonel left this morning. He instructed that I was to tell you he had business in Matlock and that he would return before luncheon.”
Curious. He never mentioned anything about it. I guess with all the excitement and our guests arriving, it must have slipped his mind. “Very well then.”
Once I am dressed and presentable, I make my way downstairs for a bit of breakfast. When I reach the dining room, Jane and Bingley are already there. “Good morning. I hope you slept well.”
Jane smiles. “Oh, Lizzie, Pemberley has the most wonderful beds. Of course we slept well.”
“I am glad to hear it.” Just then Abigail enters the dining room. “Well, here is the lady of the day.”
“Momma,” Abigail chides. She is so much like her father and me. Neither of us like to be the center of attention. Fitzwilliam tells me his father was the same way, and well, my father as well. Papa was always happiest locked away in his library. Personally, I think it was his way of getting away from my mother.
William, on the other hand, is the exact opposite and takes after the Fitzwilliam side of the family. I will not even entertain the notion that he favors my mother’s side of the family. We will just leave it at that. I chuckle to myself.
Once we were settled and enjoying our breakfast, I say, “I was thinking about taking a morning walk. Anyone care to join me?”
Jane looks at me like I have grown horns or something, “Oh, Lizzie, I had hoped by now you would have grown out of those long walks of yours. They are tiresome.”
I laugh. “I assure you they are invigorating, especially when taken in the morning. You should join me.”
She shakes her head. “I must pass. You know I have never been fond of walking.”
“I understand.” I then turn and look at Abigail. “And you?”
“Oh, Momma, I cannot. I must get ready for tonight.”
“Abigail, there is plenty of time for that.”
She shakes her head. “Only hours, Momma. There is no time to waste.” She quickly eats her scone and sips her tea. “If you will excuse me.”
I nod, and she scurries off. Oh, to be that young again.
I finish my breakfast. “Well, dear sister, since you will not join me, I shall excuse myself. Please do make yourself at home.”
Jane smiles as I rise from the table. “Have fun, Lizzie.” She says it sarcastically, and I cannot help but chuckle. If she only knew how much fun I shall have.
An hour later, I return from my walk and am greeted at the door by Mrs. Reynolds. “Good morning, Mrs. Darcy. Did you have a pleasant walk?”
“I did, thank you,” I reply. “Are we ready for this evening?”
“Indeed, madam. Miss Darcy is going to have a magical ball. You can be sure of that.”
“Thank you. How can she not when left in your capable hands?”
She blushes. “Why thank you, madam. You are so kind.”
“Is there anything you need from me?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No, I believe we have everything in order.”
I nod. “Good, then I shall visit with my sister for a bit until Mr. Darcy returns.”
“She and Mr. Bingley are in the parlor.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds.” I begin to walk toward the parlor but stop. “Mrs. Reynolds.”
“Yes, Mrs. Darcy.”
“Will you please inform me when Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam return?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Thank you.” I hesitate again. “One more thing, have we heard from Thomas?”
“No, we have not, which I assume is good news and that His Grace will arrive as expected. I’ll be sure to let you know when he arrives.”
“Good.” I continue this time and make my way to the parlor.
I visit with Jane and Bingley for most of the morning. I do my best to be involved in the conversation, but I cannot help my mind from worrying about Fitzwilliam. It is so unlike him to not tell me he would be away. Combined with how he has been acting a bit odd lately, it has got me rattled. Something is amiss. I just wish he would confide in me.
At around half past noon, Mrs. Reynolds comes in. “Excuse me, Mrs. Darcy, but Mr. Darcy has returned. He went upstairs to freshen up and will see you in the dining room as luncheon is ready.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds.” I look over at Jane and Bingley. “Shall we luncheon?”
Jane and Bingley get up and follow me to the dining room. When we arrive, Fitzwilliam is already seated at the table.
“Well hello, my love,” I say sweetly but with a tone that tells him I am concerned.
“Lizzie, Charles, and Jane.” He nods. “Hope you all are doing well.” He is rather curt, and I am taken aback. Is he angry with me? I ask myself and then realize it’s unlikely. I have done nothing to anger him. This is not about me. Perhaps he is still dealing with the fact that his baby girl is all grown up and will be accepting a suitor soon. I shake my uneasiness away.
I take my seat at the table, and we enjoy our lunch. Fitzwilliam participates in the conversation, which is mainly about Abigail and the ball tonight. I take special note that Fitzwilliam does not seem to be bothered by the conversation at all. Perhaps I was wrong… or he is putting on a good show for our guests.
Just as we are finishing up, Mrs. Reynolds enters the dining room and whispers something to Colborne. He smiles and turns toward us. “Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, but His Grace has just arrived.”
All worried thoughts immediately leave my mind when I jump from my seat and rush to the front door. Just as I arrive, Thomas and Anna walk through the door. I cannot contain my excitement as I run to my son and give him a big hug. “Thomas!”
He hugs me back, holding me tight. “Mother, it is so good to see you!”
I give him a kiss on the cheek and move to welcome Anna. Anna is a lovely woman, and I could not have picked a better wife for my son.
“Anna dear, why, you are glowing!”
Thomas looks over to his wife who glances his way warily. “I told you she would know,” he says.
“No, you… Oh good Lord. Fitzwilliam!” I call behind me. “It appears we’re going to be grandparents.” I give Anna a big hug. Fitzwilliam walks up and congratulates them both. They are beaming, and it warms my heart. Suddenly, I feel so melancholy for Bash. A grandchild on the way would have made him so proud. I turn toward Thomas and whisper, “Your father would have been so proud, so proud of the man you have become, your beautiful wife, and your impending child.”
He smiles. “Thank you, Momma,” he whispers back.
Abigail, William, and Henry come into the entryway. “Thomas! Anna!” Abigail exclaims. “Thank you both for being here!”
Thomas gives his little sister a big hug and leans in and whispers, “I would have moved heaven and earth to share this day with you.”
She smiles and gives her brother another hug.
We spend the remainder of the afternoon visiting. Abigail remains briefly and then excuses herself. More primping, I am sure. As the day progresses, the time nears for us to dress for the ball. We disperse, and we will all be back together again when my daughter is presented to the world in a mere matter of hours.
Fitzwilliam
At the last minute, Richard and I decided to go to Matlock to see if we could get any information. Matlock is the closest town to Pemberley, and we had hoped we would find some answers, like names of people who may have arrived in town in the last week or so. I was hoping one of the names would strike a chord, but they did not. What I thought might be a productive trip turned out to be a waste of time. Whoever is sending those letters is not staying in Matlock, or it is someone I truly do not know, which would make this even more of a mystery. I shake my head. No, I know this person. I am sure of it.
Elizabeth knows something is amiss. I can see it in the way she looks at me and by the tone in her voice. I should have told her about us going to Matlock. That was a big mistake on my part. I was going to, but it was so early this morning and I did not want to wake her.
When I finish dressing, I make my way down the stairs to wait for my wife. Our guests will be arriving soon, and we both should be at the door, along with Thomas, to greet everyone. I’m pacing at the bottom of the steps when Thomas and Anna come down. “Anna dear, you look lovely.”
“Thank you.” She smiles sweetly. We stand there for a few minutes. Thomas is talking about his latest renovations to Grafton Hall when his voice trails and his eyes make their way to the top of the stairs. I look up too and am rendered speechless. My beautiful wife is standing at the top of the stairs, looking more beautiful than ever.
I make my way to the bottom of the staircase, my eyes never leaving hers. She descends slowly, and when she finally reaches me, I hold out my arm and she happily takes it. “Shall we receive our guests?” I ask.
“Lead the way.” She giggles as we walk toward the door. Thomas and Anna follow us, and we take our post in the receiving line.
The guests begin to arrive, and the array of carriages that grace our front door is more than I have ever seen at Pemberley. My parents would have been proud. As each guest makes their way into the house, they rave over the beauty of the estate, the excitement of Abigail’s debut, and what a handsome couple we make. The honor is even greater when they are greeted by the Duke and Duchess of Grafton. To Abigail, Thomas is just her brother, but she has no idea what a coup it is for her to have a duke at her debut ball.
Once the guests finish their greetings, they are ushered into the grand ballroom. Once we confer that everyone who was invited has arrived, which is over two hundred guests, we make our way into the ballroom.
“Ladies, gentlemen, and honored guests.” I glance at Thomas, who is standing on my right. “Allow me to thank you for celebrating with us this evening on this very special occasion.” I look back toward the staircase and nod at Abigail, who is waiting at the top. My eyes are transfixed on my beautiful daughter. She looks stunning and oh so grown up in her ivory ball gown. Elizabeth told me Abigail was disappointed because she had wanted to wear the white one, but she explained to her we needed to save it for when she is presented to the queen. Frankly, I prefer the ivory.
I smile at her, and she makes her way down the stairs. When she gets to the bottom, I hold out my arm for her and say to our guests, “Without any further delay, allow Mrs. Darcy and I present to you our beloved daughter, Abigail Darcy.”
Everyone claps as Abigail and I walk into the ballroom. I’m beaming with pride.
The music begins, and Thomas and Elizabeth open the dance. He is the highest-ranking gentleman in attendance and therefore is afforded the first dance with the hostess. My son, for I truly consider him my son, has grown into an amazing young man, and it is an honor to have him here and a joy to see him dancing with his mother. Anna and I join them, and when the dance is over, others join in.
As I glance around the ballroom, it warms my heart to see Abigail and Henry dancing. He sure did not waste any time. I chuckle to myself. Poor fellow. I do not believe his affections are returned. Well, at least not in the way he wants.
Throughout the evening, I make note of the young men my daughter dances with. There are some I recognize and some I am not familiar with. It is quite an array, and tonight is only the beginning. I groan. Why is it so hard for a father to see his little girl grow up? But she is smiling, and it is clear she is enjoying herself. Elizabeth and I manage to get a couple of dances in between mingling with our guests.
When the music stops and dinner is announced, we all make our way into the dining room. Elizabeth and I lead, with Thomas and Anna directly behind us. As I make my way to my seat, I see Abigail and Henry enter the ballroom together. It would be nice to call him son one day, but alas, it will not happen. Elizabeth and I already discussed our lack of interference in Abigail’s choice and that she will indeed marry for love. I will never afford her the pressures I had as a young man.
Dinner is a success, not that I expected anything different. Elizabeth and the staff never disappoint. When dinner is over, the dancing resumes, and before we know it, our guests are bidding us farewell and making their journeys home. When it is just the Bingleys, Thomas and Anna, Richard, and us, I turn to address Abigail. “So, my dear, was it everything you imagined?”
“Oh, Father!” she exclaims. “It was magical. And to think I have several more of these to attend in London.”
Everyone but me chuckles at her reply. I rake my hand through my hair and think to myself, Good Lord, help me survive this.
Tomorrow the house will be back to normal, as if the ball never happened. Thomas and Anna will leave the day after tomorrow. The Bingleys and Richard will stay a fortnight, and we will all leave for London together.
Worry festers within me again when I am nestled in my bed, my wife snuggled up against me. Not once during the ball did they cross my mind. Now, my mind is full, and I doubt I will get any sleep.
Fitzwilliam
The next two weeks fly by. Another letter arrived right after Abigail’s debut ball. I pull it out of my pocket. We shall meet soon.
Needless to say, I have spent the last two weeks looking over my shoulder. No other letters have been delivered, and it appears the sender has given up. Perhaps he’s discovered he does not know as much as he thinks and has crawled back into the hole he came from. Perhaps it is just a false sense of hope. I still have not told Elizabeth and decided I will not until another letter arrives. Why worry her over nothing?
The carriages are ready, so we journey to London. The journey takes three days, and we made arrangements to stop in Nottingham and Northampton along the way.
Once we arrive in London, we settle into our London townhouse, Pemberley House. Richard will stay with us, while Jane and Bingley will stay at their own residence in town. For a short time, the house falls under a false sense of peace.
Unfortunately, it is not long before invitations start to come in. And so it begins. Henry calls on Abigail often. I believe he is finally understanding there is nothing between them other than friendship.
After about a week, the parties begin. Ball after ball lead up to the presentation at court, which is now only a month away. Still, there have been no more letters. I finally relax, now convinced that I shall not receive any more. The future is looking promising.
We have another ball to attend tonight, and Abigail is more excited for this one than all the others. It is being held by the Duke and Duchess of Suffolk, which by all accounts is nothing to excite Abigail, but the duke has a son, his eldest child, Elton Howard. They met at a prior ball, and since then, Elton has consistently secured two dances with Abigail, one always being the supper dance. I know from my courting days that the supper dance is the most important dance because afterward, you are to sit with your partner during the supper, which extends the time the couple gets to spend with each other. I always made it a point never to ask anyone to the supper dance.
I watch my daughter and Elton dance, and the smile on her face is infectious. I believe she has chosen, but he has not spoken with me yet.
Suddenly, I feel nauseated and dizzy. I am not sure if I am becoming ill or if the thought of my daughter married is getting to me. I lean toward Elizabeth and whisper in her ear, “Darling, will you excuse me? I am going to step outside for some air.”
She gives me a worried look but nods.
I make my way to the door. Once I am outside, the fresh spring air revives me and I begin to feel better. I stand there for a few minutes, and when I turn to walk back inside, a hand grabs my arm. I turn and face a hooded figure, whose face I cannot see in the darkness.
“Mr. Darcy, sir,” he says. “You have been expecting me.”
I feel blood rush to my face, and my skin grows suddenly cold. It is him, the man who has been writing me.
“Who are you?” I demand.
“All in good time, sir. All in good time. For now, you must come with me.”
“I will not,” I state. Who does this man think he is?
“Mr. Darcy, I do not want this to get messy, but please be assured, I will not hesitate to go that route if the need arises. I am asking you to come quietly.”
As I listen to him speak, I vaguely recognize his voice. No, it cannot be. He left our lives years ago—too many years to count. “What do you want from me?”
“I will explain everything. Just come with me. I promise no harm will come to you or any member of your family.”
I look back toward the house and then back at the man. “I must tell my wife I am leaving.”
He shakes his head. “I am sorry, Mr. Darcy, but that will not be possible.” He steps in closer, and I get a better look at his face. It is him! “I am not sure I made myself clear. Please allow me to do so now. If you do not come with me quietly, your wife and your daughter will most surely suffer the consequences—and we cannot forget your treasured son.”
I know what he is implying, and the thought completely sickens me.
I look back at the house and turn back toward him. Against my better judgement, I nod and follow him. His threat to my family leaves me with no other choice. I would rather any harm fall upon me to keep them safe.
We walk for several blocks and proceed down a dark alleyway. Thoughts of Elizabeth and our children fill my head, and I am starting to fear I may never see them again. He ascends the steps of one of the dwellings and opens the door. He stands in the doorway, gesturing for me to enter. Hesitantly, I do as he says.
Once we are inside, he takes off his hooded cloak and begins to turn to face me. Before he gets completely turned around, my suspicions are confirmed. George Wickham.
“Wickham,” I say, defeated.
He laughs. “I am surprised it took you seeing me to figure out it was I who has been tormenting you.”
“Why? What do you want?”
“Patience, Darcy, patience.” He paces in front of me, his chin held high. “So in case you have been wondering what I have been up to all these years, the answer is quite a lot. After the whole fiasco with Georgianna and Elizabeth Bennet, I decided England was not the best place for me.”
“I do not believe I need to know any of this, Wickham. Get to the point.”
“Ah-ah-ah, you will listen.” He pulls up a chair across from me. “As I was saying, I traveled and spent many years in Paris and Rome.”
“And money?”
He chuckles. “There were many rich widows out there, Darcy, who were more than willing to support me. I even considered going after your lovely wife when her husband passed, but then I heard she married you.”
I growl. The thought of him touching Elizabeth makes my skin crawl.
“I have to say, it came as a surprise that you would stoop so low. I mean, I know at the time she was a Duchess, but that sure does not erase her humble beginnings.” He waits for a reaction, and I do everything in my power to remain calm. When I am silent, he continues. “But that is not the point.” He shrugs. “I also found it odd that after so many years away from England, you returned. It made me ask myself, what were you doing?”
“Why is my life so important to you? We parted company a long time ago.”
“Yes, we did. However, we did not part as friends, and frankly, I felt—and still do—that you owe me.” He leans forward. “So let me get to the point. After spending all that time abroad, as you can imagine, I ran out of money. I needed a change and decided to make my way to the West Indies. I spent five years there. About a year ago, imagine my surprise at seeing your lovely sister in Nassau. My curiosity was piqued, so I did a little digging.”
He chuckles, and it makes my stomach turn. Just the fact that he was in such proximity to Georgianna makes me ill. Did he converse with her? Did she even see him? All these questions run through my mind, but I continue to remain silent. “When I discovered the Calico Trading Company and who the owner of record was, I put the pieces of the puzzle together. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that Captain Max Sterling and Fitzwilliam Darcy were one and the same.” He gets up from his chair and walks to the window. “You are a sly one. I will give you that.” He turns back to face me. “And did you know there is bounty on the head of Captain Max Sterling?”
How in God’s green earth did he make the connection? I thought we covered our tracks. Richard and I were so careful, or so we thought.
I nod and feel completely defeated.
“Twenty thousand to be exact.” So he wants the money. Now it all makes sense. He is going to turn me in and collect his reward. “My first thought is to capture you and turn you in to the authorities, but as you know, Darcy, I am an opportunist. Twenty thousand was not going to be enough. You know as well as I that I would have spent the money in a fortnight. No, I needed something that was going to last a lifetime. I am up in years now, and it is time I settle down.” He walks toward me. “After careful consideration, this is the plan I have come up with.”
“Say it then and let me go. I have had enough of this.”
“You are not going anywhere. It will be a long time before you see your family again.”
My heart sinks. What is he planning on doing?
“We are going to the West Indies, my old friend, and you are going to sign over the Calico Trading Company to me.”
I scoff. “I will do nothing of the kind!”
“Is that really how you want to play this? You might want to rethink your decision. Georgianna has grown into a beautiful woman. I sure would love to…” His voice trails off.
Dammit all to hell, what do I do now? I have no choice. I must give up the trading company to save my sister. He will destroy her, of that I have no doubt. I cannot let that happen. He walks behind me, and just as I am about to turn to see what he is up to, a rag is shoved into my face and everything goes black.
My last thoughts are about Elizabeth and my children, and I pray that someday I will see them again.
Elizabeth
Fitzwilliam has been gone a long time, and my worry for him increases. I make my way to the door and peek outside. He is not there. Perhaps he came back inside, and I did not see him. I look around the ballroom, but he is nowhere to be found. Where could he be? I feel panic begin to overtake me and desperately try to convince myself there is no reason to worry. He must be here somewhere. I mean really, where would he go during an event without telling me?
As I continue to scan the ballroom, I spot Colonel Fitzwilliam. I make my way toward him, and when I approach, he is speaking with the Duke and Duchess of Suffolk.
“Mrs. Darcy, are you enjoying yourself this evening?” the duke asks.
I try very hard to hide my agitation and reply, “Indeed, thank you for asking.” I look over at Richard. “May I have a moment?”
He nods and we excuse ourselves.
Once we step away where we would have some privacy, he asks, “What is it?”
“Richard, I am worried. Fitzwilliam stepped out for some air over an hour ago, and now I cannot find him anywhere. Have you seen him?”
He shakes his head. That was not the response I was hoping for.
“Do you know where he might have gone?”
“Perhaps. I have a hunch, but we cannot discuss it here. Let’s not ruin Abigail’s evening. We will leave when the first guests disperse, and we will discuss this back at the house.”
“Should I be worried?” I ask him, hoping he tells me what I want to hear, but I already know the answer. He does not reply but gives me a look that tells me what I already know.
For the remainder of the night, I am a bundle of nerves. Will this party ever end? I think to myself over and over. Just then, Elton Howard approaches me. “Mrs. Darcy, may I have a moment?”
“Of course.”
“I have been looking for Mr. Darcy, but I cannot seem to find him anywhere. Could you perhaps lead me to him? I would like to speak with him about Miss Darcy.”
I cannot help the smile that comes across my face. I knew this was coming. It was just a matter of time. But why did it have to come when Fitzwilliam is not here? “Mr. Darcy had to leave, Elton. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Well, I was wondering if I may call on Abigail tomorrow?”
I know without a doubt that Fitzwilliam would approve, so without hesitation, I tell him yes. He beams as he walks back to my daughter. I watch them and see how attentive he is to her. It pleases me and affords me a few brief moments where I am not worrying about Fitzwilliam. Perhaps he got detained and will return shortly. Though, after talking with Richard, I doubt it very much. He was as worried as I am. He knows something, and when we get home, no matter how late it is, he is going to tell me.
A few minutes later, the last dance plays. Thank God! I sigh. When the dance is over, Richard approaches Abigail, likely informing her we are leaving, and they walk toward me. We are heading for the door when Abigail asks, “Where is father?”
Before I can answer, Richard chimes in. “He had some business to attend to and asked that I escort you and your mother home.”
His response seems to please her, so she didn’t utter another word about it. Instead, for the entire carriage ride home she talks of nothing but Elton Howard.
“Momma, he asked if he could call on me tomorrow. Do you know, did he speak to father before he had to leave?”
“No he did not, but he spoke to me, and I told him yes. He can call on you tomorrow.”
She leans over and gives me a hug. “Thank you, Momma.” When she sits back into her seat, she asks, “Father would approve, would he not?”
I smile. “I would have never told him yes if I thought your father would not approve.”
When we get back to the house, I instruct Abigail to get to bed. She is full of energy at the moment from the night’s excitements but needs her rest. “You do not want to be all sullen and sleepy when Mr. Howard calls, now do you?”
My reminder seems to do the trick.
Once I know she is safely in her room, I march into Fitzwilliam’s study and Richard follows. He closes the door behind him.
“Now please tell me what this is all about,” I demand.
“Elizabeth, first, I think you should sit down.”
Panic settles in again and I sit, not because I was told to but because I am afraid my legs will give out and I will end up on the floor.
“When I arrived at Pemberley for the Ball, I was directed to see him and Bingley in his study. He informed us he had been receiving threatening letters.”
“Threatening?” Why on earth would anyone threaten us? I think to myself. “I’ll get to that.”
“Do you have these letters?” I ask impatiently.
“The first one was conveniently burned.”
I saw him burn it. That’s when everything started to change.
“But,” he says, walking to Fitzwilliam’s desk, and opens a drawer. “Here are the others.” He hands them to me.
Do you still seek absolution, Mr. Darcy?
We shall meet soon.
I look up at Richard. “What did the first one say, the one he burned?”
“To me, it was the worst of them all. It said simply: I know who you are.”
“Good Lord,” I say exasperated. “So you think whoever is sending these letters has taken my husband.”
He nods. “I do.”
“Well, who is it? What is stopping us from going to collect him? Surely, Richard, you have connections. With your military status, Fitzwilliam can be home as early as tomorrow.” I am hopeful.
“It is not that easy, Elizabeth. We do not know who was sending the letters; therefore, I have no idea where to look for him. He could be anywhere.”
“Do you think the sender turned him in to the authorities to get the bounty money?”
He sits in the chair across from me. “I doubt it. Although the bounty is a good sum of money, something tells me whoever is doing this wants more. But you can rest assured. I will be diligent in making inquiries tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Richard,” I say with a nod, then begin to wring my hands. “So what do we do?”
“We wait,” he replies and expels a deep sigh. “We wait until whoever has done this makes contact with us.”
“And if they do not?”
He comes closer and sits on the settee next to me. Taking my hand, he says, “Elizabeth, please try not to worry. I will do everything I can to find him. And I will always be here for you and the children.”
“Thank you, Richard. You truly are our brother.”
“Darcy is my cousin and dearest friend. I would do anything for him and his family.”
Fitzwilliam
I am having the most beautiful dream. I am on the Absolution in my office, pacing. The sea air is warm, and it is a beautiful day.
Twenty-two years ago…
“I think we have struck a prize with this one, Captain,” Smead said from the other side of the door.
“Enter,” I replied. I had expected that, like most ships, this one would surrender quietly and not put up much of a fight. It appeared my expectations had been correct. I had not expected there to be any problems, as our ship had guns and theirs did not. Thankfully, we had never needed to fire those guns, but they served their purpose in a most intimidating way. Most of the ships that crossed the seas at that time were packet ships, carrying goods and passengers. There usually was not any room for guns, so the presence of guns on our ship gave us an overwhelming advantage.
My office door opened abruptly as Smead burst through with a woman and young boy in tow. A woman and a child? What in the hell am I going to do with a woman and a child? I looked up at our guests to get a closer look and practically choked on my own saliva. I knew this woman. I had seen this woman every night in my dreams. Her standing here before me left me at a loss.
“Capt’n?” Smead questioned. I was not acting like myself, and he had noticed.
I looked at him to confirm he had nothing to worry about and then I turned away from them to regain my composure. Maybe I was dreaming that she was standing there. When I turned back around, it would be just another woman with a child, perhaps a woman who resembled her. I cleared my throat and slowly turned. I could not believe my eyes. Elizabeth Bennet was indeed standing before me.
I glanced at the young boy who was holding her hand and realized by his uncanny resemblance to Elizabeth that she was a miss no longer. I hesitated to make eye contact with her. Did she recognize me? I believed she most likely did not. Many years at sea had altered me. I was no longer the neat and tidy gentleman she had refused on that spring evening eleven years ago. No, now I was a pirate captain. My hair was long, unkempt, and lightened by the sun. A mustache and beard adorned my face, and I no longer dressed the part of a gentleman, nor did I exercise the practice.
She looked at me curiously at first. I began to worry, but I quickly realized I had been right. I did not see any recognition in her eyes. No, all I saw was disgust and contempt. Well, it seemed nothing had changed between us.
I made a point not to speak. I needed to completely take in the situation before me. It was a situation in which I had never expected to be again. I spent the next several minutes watching and studying her. I could see by her stance that she was still stubborn and stood strong in her convictions. She had a fire burning in her eyes that I did not remember from long ago, but the fierce way she was standing, hovering over her son protectively, explained why. I wondered where his father was. I wondered who his father was. Suddenly I became insanely jealous of the man who had won her affections, the man who had given her a son.
In looking her over, I discovered the years had been kind to her. It didn’t escape me how she was more beautiful than I had remembered. My heart began to feel a familiar ache. No, I will not go there again. I quickly made an effort to push those feelings aside. I would be damned if I allowed myself to feel like that again. I had worked hard to ensure I never felt that ache again, and just because the cause of it was now standing before me did not mean I must succumb to it.
Gathering my composure, I asked, “A woman and a child, Smead? What in the hell do I want with a woman and a child? What in God’s name would possess you to think I would be happy about this?”
“Well, Capt’n, this just ain’t any old woman and child. This here is British nobility, Capt’n. The wench here is a duchess!” He shoved Elizabeth forward.
I gave him a look of displeasure, and he retreated contritely. “A duchess. I see,” I said methodically. Elizabeth married a duke? The jealousy continued to rage inside me, but outside I appeared the perfect pirate. Looking down at the boy, I said, “And this young man?”
“He is the Duke of Grafton! I think we struck gold with these two, Capt’n,” Smead said.
Bringing my hand up to my chin and rubbing at my beard, I thought for a moment. If the boy was a duke, his father was deceased. A smile crossed my lips as I realized Elizabeth must be a widow. My jealousy subsided a little, but only a little. I was still raging at the thought that another man had had her love.
Without giving her or her son another glance, I turned toward Smead and asked, “Any others of interest aboard?”
“Her father and maids, sir. There were also about ten passengers in steerage and of course members of their crew. I threw one overboard,” Smead said hesitantly. “Couldn’t be helped, Capt’n. We fished him back out, and he is not harmed. We also have their captain. The ship is ours, sir.”
So her son is not her only traveling companion. The old me had disliked Mr. Bennet. I had always found it bothersome that he allowed his wife and younger daughters to behave so poorly, but the man I had become saw a totally different picture. Mr. Bennet had been a man of little means. His only hope to get out of such a state was to marry one of his daughters to a wealthy gentleman. Unable to control the scheming of his wife, I believe the man had given up hope. Of course, those were only my observations. I had not spent much time with him when I was in Hertfordshire, but on the few occasions I had, I had always admired his wit and sense of humor.
No matter what I thought about Elizabeth’s father, my biggest concern was how I was going to keep them all safe. Do I just let them all go? I thought more on the subject. No, I cannot do that. I have her right where I want her. I cannot let her go. I cannot allow my heart to break again. She stays and the child stays, but no maids! One woman on this ship is enough.
Coming back from my thoughts, I asked Smead, “And the cargo?”
“Gold, Capt’n. I’m guessing wages. They were carrying wool too, sir. But the biggest prize, sir, is this beauty here!” He shoved Elizabeth forward again, and she and I both scowled at him.
“Do not hurt my Momma!” the boy cried.
Smead and I laughed. He definitely had his mother’s spirit. I had forgotten the child was even in the room. He was quite a brave young man; I admired that he was quick to protect his mother.
Elizabeth looked at her son, alarmed. “Thomas, hush!”
I walked toward Thomas and knelt in front of him. “Now, Thomas, what makes you think we are going to hurt your Momma?”
“You are a bad man!” Thomas looked at Smead and said, “He’s a bad man too because he threw a man overboard, and he pushed my Momma around!”
I looked up at Smead for answers. He knew I abhorred his cruelty, and he knew by my look I was displeased.
“Capt’n, as I said, it couldn’t be helped. I needed to know who the lady was, and nobody was talk’n. I knew if I showed them I wasn’t playing around, someone would oblige. And it worked. We fished ’im out, sir. He wa’n’t harmed, just rattl’d a bit.”
“Stop. We will discuss this later, Smead,” I commanded. He knew I was not pleased with him. My men had grown to respect me over the years. I was fair and, to an extent, kind to them. They knew my expectations, and as long as those were adhered to, all was well. Smead had a tendency to let power take control of his actions, but he had been improving. Like he said, he had fished the man out and saved his life. I had to give him credit for that. In our earlier days, the man would have been left as fish bait.
I turned back toward Thomas. “So now, young man, you believe we are bad men,” I said. “I agree with you about Smead. He is a bad man, and he should not be pushing a lady around nor throwing people overboard. But what have I done that makes you think I am a bad man?”
“Well, you are a pirate captain.”
“A pirate, you say? There have not been pirates in these waters for well over a hundred years. What makes you say I am a pirate?”
“You took over our ship.”
“Yes, we did take over your ship.”
“And you stole from the crew and passengers.”
“Yes, we did do that as well.”
“And you took me and my Momma to your ship!”
“Well, I have to say, when you put it that way, it is not looking very good for me and my crew.” I turned back toward Smead and said, “I guess the young lad is right. We are most definitely pirates.” Smead and I laughed again. Thomas was a very precocious child, and I was enjoying engaging him in conversation. He made me think that perhaps his mother had been the same way when she was young. I looked up at Smead. “Take the duchess and her son to the cabin next to mine.”
Smead grabbed Elizabeth by the arm and pulled her toward the door. Thomas stayed close to his mother.
“What about my father?” Elizabeth asked.
“Well, well, the lady does have a voice,” I said, surprised she had deigned to address me directly. “What about your father, Your Grace?” I asked.
“If you are going to keep me and Thomas here, I should like to have my father and my traveling companions join us.” This woman was not afraid of anything. She stood before me, completely at my mercy. She did not know me—or at least she did not think she knew me. She did not know how cruel or kind I could be. And yet there she stood, making demands upon my crew and me.
“Oh, you would?” I said with a chuckle. “And what makes you think you are in any position to make demands of me?” Ignoring the fact that she did not answer my question, I continued. “No, we do not have room for anyone else.”
“Then tell me, Captain…” She hesitated and then said smartly, “Sorry, I was not provided the courtesy of your name.”
“Sterling. Captain Sterling,” I replied back just as smartly. We had always been a match at wits, and I was pleased to see she had not changed too much.
“Captain Sterling, what do you intend to do with the remainder of the Amity’s crew?” she asked defiantly.
“I have not decided yet, but you and your son will be staying aboard the Absolution,” I replied as defiantly.
“But my father!” Elizabeth cried.
I was in no mood to enter a shouting match with her. I rose to my full six-foot-two height and waved my hand, silencing her. I could see my height and presence intimidated her, and she remained quiet. I had always believed nothing ever intimidated her, so I guessed this was a rarity.
I stepped up to her and moved in very close, which reminded me of the last time I had seen her—the awful day she refused me. I had moved in close to apologize for taking up her time, and it had taken everything in me not to kiss her.
Towering over her in the same manner, I found myself fighting that same battle. Our lips were almost touching when I looked down at her and said in an even, precise tone, “Your Grace, allow me to be perfectly clear.”
If I remembered correctly, those had been her words to me on that awful day. Now the tables had turned, and I was in charge.
“In these waters, on this ship, my word is law. You will not talk back to me, and you most certainly will not question my actions or my motives.” I paused for a moment to allow her to completely understand what I was saying. “Now, I am going to ask you if you understand what I am saying to you. The only words I want to hear out of your mouth are yes or no. Do you understand?”
Elizabeth nodded, and I realized it was the first time I had ever seen fear in her eyes. “So, Your Grace, are we in agreement as to who is in charge?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said meekly.
“Good. I am glad we could come to an understanding. Smead, take them to their room.”
“But—”
“Enough!” I yelled. “I have had enough of your insolence! Take them away.”
Smead grabbed Elizabeth’s arm and again pulled her toward the door. Thomas followed his mother, and I watched as they hurried out of my office.
Damn, that felt good. But I was exhausted. I rubbed my temples to help alleviate the pounding in my head. That woman was infuriating and breathtaking at the same time.
I sat again at my desk, astonished by the vicissitudes of my fortune. Elizabeth Bennet had become a duchess and was now a captive on my ship. I did not know whether to rejoice in it or to throw her overboard. Knowing I was unable to do the latter, I debated on the former.
“What in God’s creation do I do with her?” I asked myself out loud. I could let her go and once again wash my hands of the Bennets. That would be the wise thing to do. I had had a good life at sea. I was alone, but I was happy. I no longer had to live the pretense of being a gentleman, and I had finally found a freedom unlike anything I had ever known. At least, that was what my head told me. My heart told me something different. Captain Max Sterling wanted no part of Elizabeth Bennet or her son, but Fitzwilliam Darcy thought differently. He wanted to take advantage of the opportunity fate had bestowed and show her the man I had become. Could she love a pirate? I asked myself.
While my head and my heart battled inside me, I decided to go with the original plan and keep her, for now. If nothing else, she and her son would bring a healthy ransom if I chose to use her in that way.
Fate brought her back to me. That was the second-best day of my life, the first being the day she married me.
I do not want to wake, but the swaying is relentless, and my eyes flutter open. Looking around, I realize my dream is over. No Elizabeth. My head is foggy and I am disoriented, but I know I am on a ship. In my confused state, I ponder if my life with Elizabeth was even real and my ship has been captured. The constraints on my arms and horrendous conditions in which I am left confirms my suspicions.
Then my memories of the night before flood back.
Wickham! Elizabeth must be frantic with worry. I never had a chance to tell her what was happening. Damn you, Darcy. You should have told her about the letters. You should not have kept them from her. My subconscious screams at me and has every reason to do so. I was so wrong. The one good thing I did was tell Richard. He will be there for her and my family, and he will move heaven and earth to find me, of that I am sure. Unfortunately for me, the last place he will think to look is on a ship heading for Nassau.
A few minutes after I wake, I hear footsteps, and in walks Wickham. He must have given me chloroform. My head is pounding, and I am no state to deal with him right now.
“I see you are awake,” he says as he saunters into the room.
“Brilliant deduction, Wickham.”
I am so angry with myself for going with him in the first place, but I could not let him get hold of my family. Not to mention I was so desperate to know why he had been taunting me that I could not resist. I should have known better. I could have protected my family better. Since Wickham now has me, I left them vulnerable. They have Richard.
I remember a time when I was so jealous of my cousin and his attentions to Elizabeth. I always envied his easy manner at conversing, and it would crush my heart every time he spoke to her and she smiled and responded kindly to him. My jealousy has long since passed, and I am so thankful he is with my wife now.
“Let me remind you, Darcy, that you are a guest on this ship because of me.” He emphasizes the word guest as if it is a privilege to be here. “I provide your accommodations, although not what you are used to. You will be fed because I allow it to happen. For once in your charmed life, you are beholden to me.” He walks up to me.
“I assume we are en route to Nassau?”
“We are. We have some business to take care of. I presume you remember?”
I grumble. Yes, I remember, and it makes me sick just thinking about it.
“So, Mr. Darcy, I suggest you make yourself comfortable for the next month and think about all the wrongs you have done to me.”
“I did nothing—”
“Just for that outburst,” he says, cutting me off. “No food for two days. Perhaps it will teach you some respect.”
Swallowing my pride, I ask, “Will I always remain bound?”
Wickham looks around the room. “Perhaps once we get further out to sea, I will allow you some freedoms. Perhaps once you learn humility.”
“Wickham, we could end this so easily.”
He gives me a sideways glance. “What do you propose?”
“I can give you money. We can turn this ship around, and I’ll give you money, however much you want. Just allow me to return to my family.” I know I sound desperate, but if it will get me back to my family, I will do anything. When he gives me no response, I say, “Besides, what would you do with a trading company? You know nothing of the business.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Money will not get you out of this.” He stands tall, hovering over me. “No matter how much of your precious money you were willing to part with, it would not last. I would waste it away as I have always done. The trading company will give me a lucrative business, and it will continue to provide me with an income.” He sits in the chair across from me. “I have a family now too, Darcy. Did you know that?”
I shake my head. “I did not.”
“A wife and two sons. My eldest is one and twenty, perfect age for a husband for your dear Abigail.” He leans forward. “I imagine she has quite a dowry.”
“My daughter is going to marry in the peerage. Why would I subject her to one of your offshoots!” I feel the anger rise to my temples and pulsate. How dare he insinuate that his son is worthy of my daughter? I know how I sound, like the old me—the Fitzwilliam before Elizabeth entered my life. And Lord knows, if Abigail was in love with someone beneath her, I would allow her to marry him. I want her to have the kind of love her mother and I have, but not to a Wickham! Never!
“Listen to you, Mr. High and Mighty. My son is not good enough for the likes of you. You were always a snob, Darcy, and it comes no surprise to me that you still are.” With those words, he walks out of the room.
Let him think what he likes. One month… I have to spend one month in this godforsaken ship, which is taking me back to a place I once called home. I keep thinking of ways to get myself out of this, but I see none. I am trapped by the sea. At one time, she gave me freedom, but now I feel chained to her fury. My thoughts drift to Elizabeth. I have been away from her but for a day, and already my heart aches. She must be going mad, but she is strong, one of the strongest women of my acquaintance. She must get through this. I will figure out a way to get back to her if it is the last thing I do.
Elizabeth
It has been two days, and we have received no word or seen any sign of Fitzwilliam. Abigail kept asking where he was, and so Richard and I came up with a story that her aunt Georgianna needed him on the island and he would be gone for some time. Naturally, she panicked, thinking her entire presentation would be delayed. I assured her it would not and that Colonel Fitzwilliam would step in for her father. I know it is not the same, especially for her. She loves her cousin, but Abigail and her father are so close and this is a very special time for her. However, she is a well-brought-up girl and understands she cannot always have her way.
As each day passes, my fear for his safety grows. Why have we not received any word? If someone actually kidnapped Fitzwilliam for personal gain, would we not have received a ransom note or something of the sort? I have a bad feeling about this. Richard seems more at ease than I am, and I wonder if there is something he is not telling me. I know he has exhausted his contacts and has gotten nothing. No Captain Max Sterling has been arrested. Oh, Fitzwilliam, where are you?
“Elizabeth, you must not worry. I promised you I would bring him home safely and I will.”
I give him a sideways glance as a tear escapes my eye. I cannot take any more of this. I want my husband home with his family, where he belongs.
“I am sorry, Richard. I just feel so helpless. As each day passes without word of him or his whereabouts… I am sorry, but I cannot help but fear the worst.”
He gets up from his chair and walks to where I am sitting. He kneels in front of me. “Look at me,” he pleads.
I am having trouble looking at him, as I am afraid I will lose my resolve and turn into a blubbering fool. But I do as he says, and he takes my hand.
“Elizabeth, Darcy is my dearest friend and cousin. Actually, he is more of a brother to me than my own. You can be sure I will move heaven and earth to bring him home.” He stands and goes to look out the window. It is rather bleak as afternoon sun is shrouded by the clouds, quite representative of our moods, “I love him too.”
“Oh, Richard, I know you do. Please do not think that I feel you are not doing everything you can or that you do not care whether he returns because it is the furthest thing from the truth.” I get up and walk to him, resting my hand on his arm. “I just fear he has been taken far away from here, and we will never find him.”
“I will find him.”
I nod. His certainty reassures me and provides me a few minutes of hope. I sit back down and wait for our afternoon tea to arrive. When Colborne brings the tea service in, my mind goes quickly back to Fitzwilliam.
“Mrs. Darcy, the Marquess of Suffolk is here to call on Miss Darcy.”
I am really not in the mood for entertaining, but I cannot let Abigail down. I must act as if nothing is wrong, and it completely exhausts me. “Please ask the marquess to come in and then inform Miss Darcy he is here visiting with the colonel and I in the parlor.”
“As you wish.” He turns to leave, and a few minutes later, he comes back with Elton. “Mrs. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam, the Marquess of Suffolk.”
“Good afternoon, how nice of you to call. Would you join us for tea?” I try my best to be polite and happy, but inside, I am crushed and devastated. Fitzwilliam should be here.
“Mrs. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam, good afternoon. And yes, thank you, I would be delighted to join you.” He sits as Colborne pours the tea. “Is Mr. Darcy at home?” Elton asks.
I give Richard a sideways glance, but I cannot bring myself to tell the lie. He sees my discomfort and says, “He has been called away on business.”
He looks disappointed, and I know what he wants. He wants to ask permission to court Abigail. My heart soars for her and then saddens. Her father should be here.
“It will most likely be a couple of months before he returns. He’s out of the country,” Richard says.
“Oh, I see.”
“In his absence, I am head of the family, along with Mrs. Darcy. Is there something you need?”
“Well, sir.” He bows his head shyly, straightens his shoulders, and addresses Richard. “I had hoped to get Mr. Darcy’s blessing to court Miss Darcy.”
Richard looks to me for guidance, and I nod. He then turns back toward Elton and says, “Yes, you may.”
Just then, Abigail enters the parlor. “Marquess Howard, how nice of you to visit.”
He turns toward her and smiles. “Thank you, Miss Darcy. How lovely you look.”
Abigail blushes as a smile comes across her face. It is obvious she really likes him. I worry that she shows her emotions so outwardly, but then I think of Jane and how she almost lost Bingley because she did not show him her affections. It warms my heart to see their young love blossom. Oh how I wish Fitzwilliam were here, but he is not, so we must endure this without him.
We fall into easy conversation and then he asks Abigail to play for us. She obliges, playing a couple of pieces, and he is completely enraptured by her talent, which she gets from her Aunt Georgianna. After about an hour, Elton says his good-byes and assures us he will return tomorrow.
Elizabeth – April 1846
It has now been a month with no word. At this point, I not only worry for his return but I fear for Fitzwilliam’s life. In my heart, I still fill his presence. Our love runs deep. I truly believe that if he has passed, I would feel it. He is still alive; he has to be. I will continue to follow my heart and hang on to that last ray of hope I have. My heart has never let me down in the past. It cannot let me down now.
I must keep my spirits up as today is Abigail’s presentation to the queen. Right before I married Bash, I was presented, the only Bennet to ever have been presented at court. The only thing that makes me glad about it is I can be Abigail’s sponsor. I know she wishes her father to be here, but at least she has Colonel Fitzwilliam. In all honesty, I really do not know how I would have handled Fitzwilliam’s disappearance without him. He has stepped in and taken over all matters of business as well as been a father figure for Abigail and Will.
Easter was last Sunday, so the “high” season begins with the coming-out ceremony. Three days have been set aside for the grand affair, and from what I understand, over two hundred young ladies will be presented.
We have been preparing for this day for the last several weeks. We had to select the most perfect dress that of course adorned the most perfect bodice, not to mention the slippers, gloves, and the many other accessories. We had to decide on how Abigail was to wear her hair so the veil would complement it. She has had to learn to walk gracefully for the queen. She has spent hours and hours learning how to glide across the room toward the queen and do a full curtsy without falling or stumbling. The most difficult part is the exit. She must exit the room backward, as one shall never turn their back on our queen. I remember going through all this pomp and circumstance myself for just a few minutes in front of the queen.
I am waiting in the entryway for her to come down when Mrs. Reynolds and Colonel Fitzwilliam come in. “Mrs. Reynolds, can you please check on Miss Darcy? If she does not get down here soon, I am certain we will be late.”
Richard laughs. “Late? You will spend hours in the carriage outside of St. James Palace. You have plenty of time.”
“But we may miss the queue.”
“I very much doubt that.”
As if she heard us, Abigail appears at the top of the steps in her white chiffon, princess-style gown and gloves. She carries a bouquet of pale-pink roses, tied with the lightest of pink ribbon, and her veil floats down over her gown, adorning the three large feathers of her skirt, a request of the queen. Her train glides down the stairs as she walks. She looks stunning. Richard meets her halfway up the stairs and takes her arm. I smile. Her father would have waited until she reached the bottom so he could take in all of her as she descended. He would have been so proud, I think to myself as a lone tear escapes my eye. I am not sure if I am crying because of Fitzwilliam’s absence or that our beautiful daughter really is all grown up and we will be losing her to a husband soon. Probably both.
When they get to the bottom of the stairs, we make our way to the carriage as Mrs. Reynolds bids us good-bye and good wishes. We arrive a little before two at St. James Palace, and the array of carriages all waiting in line is staggering. I truly do not remember this many when I was presented, but that was a very long time ago. Sometimes when I think about my life before I sailed to the island, it seems like a completely different life. Perhaps a better way to explain it is that I was reborn when I encountered Max Sterling on his ship. And I never knew Max and Fitzwilliam were the same man until he told me. Why did I not see it?
We wait in line as it crawls slowly toward the entrance. Close to an hour has passed when we finally make it to the entrance. Richard gets out, walks to the opposite side of the carriage, and opens the door. As he holds out his hand, I take it and exit as well, glancing back to watch my daughter take her last steps as a young lady.
Once inside, we are escorted to the Gallery and placed in yet another line. Richard remained in the carriage and will be ready for us when we depart. When it finally is Abigail’s turn, she walks toward the queen. I know she is walking slowly as not to stumble or lose any sort of balance. She reaches the queen and performs her full court curtsy and then kisses the queen’s hand. She does it beautifully, and I am pleased that all her practicing has paid off. She then makes her curtsies to the court and gracefully gathers up her train, places it over her arm, and backs out of the room.
I am in awe of our young queen, who is not much older than Abigail. But more than that, I am in awe of my beautiful daughter. On the carriage ride home, my daughter talks of nothing but what an honor it was to stand in the presence of the queen.
As Abigail talks on, my thoughts are elsewhere. Fitzwilliam. I close my eyes and take myself back to a happier time.
Twenty-two years ago…
“Forgive me, Max,” I said. “But I needed to see you.” My voice was raspy and breathless.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, his voice as desperate as my own.
“Uh, no,” I replied hesitantly, then repeated myself. “I needed to see you.” I stepped into his room and walked directly to his bed. I admonish myself now at my brashness, but then I remember I did not care. “I need you, Max.”
He sat up in bed and stared at me. I will never forget that look, surprise and want all combined into one heated stare. He was cautious and asked, “Are you saying what I think you are saying?” I chuckle when I think of his hesitance. I did not know then that he was Fitzwilliam Darcy, and our history before that time did not afford much in the department of false assumptions.
“Yes,” I replied breathlessly.
That must have been all he needed to hear because he was out of bed and standing before me in an instant. The room was dark, but the moon shone through the porthole and left a faint bit of light such that a candle was not necessary. He stood before me and gazed at me, as if taking me all in, still being cautious.
We arrive home, and I am saddened when my thoughts are interrupted. I find I am happiest when I think about our past, and I want more. We make our way into the house, and I turn toward my daughter. “I am tired, love. I think I shall go lie down.”
“Momma, are you unwell? Your eyes look sad.”
I smile. “I am fine, sweetheart. Perhaps I am just sad because I miss your father.”
She puts her arms around me and says, “I miss him too, Momma. He will be home soon.” She tries to reassure me, but I know things she does not, so her words fall on deaf ears.
I turn and walk up the stairs. Once in the privacy of my bedchamber, I lie on the bed and close my eyes. Fitzwilliam, come back to me…
“Elizabeth,” he whispered as he slowly bent down and lightly grazed his lips with mine. I can still feel the pleasure of our first kiss. It was as if our lips were meant for each other. It was like coming home.
He stepped back and gently caressed my cheek, and I shuddered at his touch. His gaze moved from my eyes back to my lips. My heart was beating loudly and my lips parted, hopefully telling him I wanted more. He knew my want and kissed me again. Lightly at first, his lips grazed mine. His hand cradled my face, and with slow, gentle strokes, our mouths moved together.
He gradually deepened the kiss until our tongues moved in a sensual dance. I moaned at the sensation, and he kissed me more. He pulled me into his arms and held me close. My breathing was heavy as my breasts crushed against his bare chest, his erection hard and pushing against my core.
He held me for a long time, and I knew he could feel it too. We belonged together. We had had so many miscommunications; prejudices and, not to mention, our pride getting in the way of what should have always been. I knew it then and admonish myself for hesitating at first.
We continued to kiss, our bodies clinging to each other. When we finally came up for air, he asked in what was little more than a desperate plea, “Elizabeth, are you sure?”
I nodded, but it was not enough for him. Did he not know that his kisses took everything out of me, and I had trouble speaking?
Again, he asked, “Tell me you are absolutely sure about this. Because if I continue, there will be no stopping me. You will be mine.”
And as I was about to say the words, I knew they were wholeheartedly true. “I have never been more sure of anything in my entire life. I need you; I want you. I want this.” My words then are still true today.
When I was done speaking, he scooped me into his arms and carried me to my bed. Gently, he laid me on the bed and slowly untied the ribbon that held my gown closed. When my bare breasts were exposed, the cool air in the room caused my nipples to pucker at the sensation. He extended his hand and hovered over my breast. As I watched him, he lightly touched my nipple, and I began to squirm. He touched his lips to my breast, and the feel of them on my bare skin was intoxicating.
I felt like I had died and gone to heaven. Being in his arms was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. I experienced so many emotions that night, but the one that stands out in my mind is the peace I felt when he held me. I look around the room, and his absence screams from the walls. My peace is gone now, and all I feel is alone and afraid—two feelings I do not think I have truly experienced ever before in my life, not even when Bash passed. Frankly, I find I do not like it.
I close my eyes again. I want to go back.
I reached up and caressed through his hair and down to his shoulders. He crawled up onto the bed and knelt between my legs. I watched him intently as he slowly raised his nightshirt over his head.
I had to touch him, so I reached for his bare chest and caressed him lovingly. The way he looked at me made me feel as if I were the most beautiful woman in the world. He leaned down and kissed my lips again. While he kissed me, his hand slid down my body toward my stomach, down to the dark curls that nestled between my legs.
I moaned when he slipped a finger inside me. When he added another, I moaned louder. His thumb stroked my sensitive nub, and I writhed trying to satisfy the need he was creating inside me. When he replaced his finger with his tongue, I almost lost consciousness. Nobody had ever done that to me before. I was a little weary when he started, but the sensations took over, and I found it was the most amazing pleasure a man could give a woman. I clutched the covers on the bed. When I reached my climax, my body literally shuddered and convulsed in pure ecstasy.
I was hot and breathless, and he gave me no reprieve. He devoured my mouth as his body completely covered my own. My hands traveled all over him as he guided his erection inside me. He was both velvety soft and hard, and my core clutched his erection as if it were holding on for dear life. He was gentle at first, but then a frenzy seemed to take over. He rose to his knees, lifted my pelvis slightly, and slid a pillow under my back. When I was more exposed to him, he pounded into me with a fury against all our wasted years. The more he drove into me, the more I clamped down on him, always wanting more.
The tension building in us was about to explode. The longer he pounded into me, the more I screamed in pleasure.
We lay there in each other’s arms for a long time, neither of us saying anything. After several minutes of silence, he said, “Elizabeth, I love you!”
Oh, Fitzwilliam, I love you too! I miss you, and I need you. When will you come home to us? I cannot escape the tears that fall as I lie on my pillow and sob for the love of my life.
Fitzwilliam – July 1846
Days have turned into weeks, and weeks have turned into months. For four months, to be exact, I have been away from my family. Elizabeth must be out of her mind with worry. We arrived in Nassau two months ago today, and Wickham has yet to get the papers for the transfer of the business. Every time I ask him about them, he says he is working on it. What the hell does that mean? I thoroughly believed that once we arrived in Nassau, we would sign the papers, and Winston, Georgianna, and I would be going home.
He has me detained in what appears to be a jail cell with iron bars. I have only been outside when I was taken from the ship to this godforsaken place. A man comes twice a day with food. The meals are nothing to brag about, but at least I am fed. Frankly, I had better meals on the ship. The man bringing the food does not speak to me. When I am finished eating, he takes his leave. When we first arrived, I tried to speak with him on numerous occasions, but he never utters a word. Since then, I have not tried again. Wickham stops by about twice a week and does nothing but torment me.
Today, he is literally trying to set my teeth on edge. “So, Darcy, how are you faring?”
“Like you really care. What do you want, Wickham? I have grown tired of your small talk.”
He laughs. “Well, today, I bring you news.”
“And that is?”
He walks to the cage in which he holds me and grabs hold of the bars. “I have received word that your precious Abigail is engaged to be married.”
His words hit me like a cinder block and literally knocks the wind out of me. Life has gone on without me. My little girl…
“What is the matter, Darcy? You have nothing to say to that?” When I do not grace him with a response, he continues. “It looks like perhaps you were right. Miss Darcy is engaged to be wed to the Marquess of Suffolk.” He grins. “Well done, Darcy. Your daughter will be a duchess one day.
I have never felt so defeated in all my life. What more could he want from me? I have done everything he has asked. I agreed to sign over the trading company to him, but he has made no move as of yet to make it happen. I am going mad. I worry for my family and my wife. I want to go home and be done with Wickham once and for all. And, to add insult to injury, he gloats while he tells me my family has moved on without me. My heart sinks, and I feel I have failed my daughter. Elizabeth was right all those years ago. I am the worst of men.
“Are you done?” I ask him abruptly. I have had enough and turn my back to him. I cannot look at him anymore, for it makes me sick to my stomach.
“Actually, Darcy, I am not done. Today, we sign the papers. Calico Trading Company will become mine.”
Finally! Facing him, “When the deal is done, are you going to let me return to England?” I ask, and for the first time in months, I am hopeful.
He shakes his head, and my heart sinks again. “No, I rather like tormenting you. Consider it payback for all the wrongs you did me.”
“How dare you! You and I both know you got what my father bequeathed you, only in a different way because that is the way you wanted it!” Now I am angry. I have had enough of him and his stupid game.
“Now calm down, Darcy. Getting angry with me will get you nowhere.”
Just then, two men come in and enter my cell. They cuff my hands and lead me outside.
“Where are you taking me?”
“We are going to see my solicitor.”
“We are?” I had expected the papers to come to me rather than go anywhere. This is the break I have been waiting for. Perhaps someone will recognize me. After all, I lived on this island for eleven years.
The more I think about it, the more I realize nobody will recognize me. I look like Fitzwilliam Darcy, not Max Sterling.
Flanked on both sides by the two men who cuffed me, we follow Wickham out.
I assumed we would take a carriage to his solicitor’s office, but we do not and make our way on foot instead. The city has changed so much in the last twenty-two years, and I cannot help but miss the more primitive city I once loved. I take in a deep breath and inhale the salty sea air, the warm balmy breeze on my face. This place truly is a paradise, just not without Elizabeth.
As we walk down the street, a woman catches my attention. She is window shopping, and her manner reminds me of Georgianna. It cannot be! Could I be so lucky to encounter her on my only day out of that dreaded cell? I did not think I could, but she and Winston would be the only people who would recognize me. As we get closer, perhaps about twenty yards or so, I know. It is without a doubt my sister.
“Georgianna!” I cry, hoping to get her attention.
She turns and looks in our direction.
“Damn you, Darcy!” Wickham says in a low grumble, pushing me toward a building and quickly getting me inside his solicitor’s office. “What were you thinking?” he yells. He turns toward the two men who accompanied us. “And you, you were to make sure the street traffic was at a minimum!”
Before they can answer, I speak up. “I was thinking my sister should know I am here.”
“Well, thankfully I do not think she saw you. Your effort to gain her attention was fruitless.” Regardless of his words, he knows just as well as I do that she did indeed see me. I imagine this puts a bit of a damper on Wickham’s plans, but bully for me. Perhaps things will start to look up for me now.
I really hated Wickham when we were children, but it does not compare to the depths of my hatred for him now. Never in my life have I wished a man dead before, yet I know, given the opportunity, I would kill him with my bare hands.
He walks to the front area where a woman sits. “Please tell Mr. Livingston that George Wickham and Fitzwilliam Darcy are here to see him.”
She nods warily and gets up from her chair, then disappears in the back. I am certain the fact I am handcuffed and probably do not smell very good is an indication to her that something is not right with this situation. A few seconds later, she returns and says, “Follow me, please.”
We do as she says, leaving the two unmentionables to wait in the lobby while she takes us to a small room. In the room there is a small round table with chairs and a bookcase.
“Please do sit down. Mr. Livingston will be with you shortly.”
Once we are both seated, the solicitor enters and takes a seat. He watches curiously as Wickham unlocks the cuffs and clears his throat. “Um, Mr. Darcy, are you sure you want to execute this transaction?”
Before I can answer, Wickham chimes in. “Livingston, I told you we are both in agreement. I am paying you enough money to take care of this. Your opinions are not warranted.”
“Wickham, I have seen all kinds in these parts, from pirates to gentlemen, but I have to say I have never executed a business dealing with a man brought to me in handcuffs.”
Wickham scoffs. “Well, you must not have brokered many arrangements.”
Livingston smirks, then looks at me and back at Wickham. “I cannot help you, Wickham, not in good conscience.”
“Livingston, we had a deal!” Wickham gets up from the table and walks toward Mr. Livingston, who is still sitting at his desk. He leans over, placing his hands on Livingston’s desk. “We had a deal!”
Livingston rises, and leans over the desk in return, and gets into Wickham’s face. “We may have, but nothing in writing. I do not have a good feeling about this transaction, and I would like to think I have some integrity left.” He reaches into his desk drawer, grabs a handful of coins, and hands them to Wickham. “Take your dirty money. I do not want it.”
Wickham stands there in disbelief. He opens the door and calls one of his men to cuff me again, and once I am secured, he storms out of the office, heading back the way we came. This gives me the perfect opportunity to know exactly where I am in Nassau. I look over to the west. If memory serves me correctly, my house is not far down that way. We are fairly close to the wharf, as I can see the ships’ masts off to the east.
Is the Absolution docked? I wonder. More importantly, Did Georgiana see me? My hope is she did and she will get word to Richard and Elizabeth. If I was seen by her, she would be alarmed for certain. One reason being I was with Wickham, and two because I was in Nassau and she was not informed of my arrival. She may have not seen the cuffs, but those two instances alone would alert her that something was amiss.
We get back to the building, and I am quickly placed back into my cell. This is getting old. “I will find another solicitor. Of that, you can be sure,” Wickham states, and he and his two men leave the building.
Elizabeth – August 1846
Five long months and nothing… Fear of the worst is at the forefront of my mind, and I cannot seem to shake the feeling that we may never see Fitzwilliam again. Elton has asked for Abigail’s hand, and of course we, Richard and I, gave our blessing. She is most besotted by him, and I pray they have a marriage as her father and I do.
“Elizabeth, I have word!” Richard says as he bursts into the parlor.
“What?” The reality of his words register, so I anxiously ask, “From whom?”
“I received a letter from Georgianna this morning. She saw Fitzwilliam in Nassau!”
“Nassau!” I cannot believe it. No wonder we have not heard anything. He has not been in London. “What did she say? Tell me everything.”
“Better yet, you may read it.” He hands me the letter.
I open the folded piece of paper. It is dated a month ago.
My dearest cousin,
I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing because I am deeply concerned. I was in town yesterday morning and saw a man who looked remarkably like Fitzwilliam. What was even more alarming was that this man was in the company of George Wickham. The situation did not look pleasing, and I fear for my brother. He seemed in good health, although a bit thinner than I remembered. He called out to me, but Wickham quickly silenced him, and they went inside a solicitor’s office. I wanted to run after him, but with Wickham being there, frankly, dear cousin, I was afraid. I have asked Winston to make some inquiries with the solicitor whose office they entered, but as of yet, we have discovered nothing.
Do you know, is he in Nassau? And if so, why has he not contacted Winston or myself? Please write back soon with any information you may have.
Lovingly, your cousin,
Georgianna
Oh my word. He is alive. My heart rejoices. Now we need to get him home. “Wait… Wickham?” I say to Richard.
“Believe me, I am as surprised as you are. Wickham was the last person I suspected in this whole mess. I truly believed he had left the country and decided to subject another country to his debauchery.”
“We must go to Nassau, Richard. Can you arrange it?”
“Elizabeth, I think you must allow me to go alone. This situation is no place for a woman.”
“Absolutely not, Richard. I will not yield on this.”
“But what about Abigail and William?”
“I will place Abigail under the care of her Aunt Bingley, and we shall take Will with us.”
He shakes his head. “Have you lost your mind? This is no place for a young boy.” He walks over to me and takes my hand. “I will agree to you traveling with me, but not Will. Leave him with the Bingleys as well. He will be safer.”
I think about what he is saying, and he is right. They can go stay with Jane and finish out the season. When we bring Fitzwilliam home, we can plan Abigail’s wedding to Elton. After Abigail is married, I will talk to Fitzwilliam about taking our son to the West Indies—permanently. After dealing with the social season and Fitzwilliam missing, I am quite done with London, for it no longer has anything to entertain. I want to go home, to Nassau. I nod. “Yes, you are right. I am not thinking rationally these days.”
“I completely understand, my dear.” He walks to the desk and says, “I will make the necessary arrangements and send word to Georgianna. Be ready to depart in the next couple of days.”
I am almost giddy. For the first time in months, I am feeling hopeful. We will bring him home if I have to kill Wickham myself, which I am not opposed to doing. I can shoot straight if I do not have to shoot too far.
Over the next couple of days, Richard works diligently to secure us passage to Nassau, which is not an easy feat. Most voyages are booked weeks in advance, but Richard has connections. We are hoping they will pay off and we will be on our way.
Two days later, I am in Fitzwilliam’s study reading the daily news. I have my own study, but since his absence, I find I am most comfortable in here.
“I have us booked on the Serenity two days from now,” Richard says as he walks into the room.
“That is wonderful news. I have already made the arrangements with Jane and have sent word to Mrs. Reynolds and Colborne that we will be away. I have not told any of them, nor do I intend to, that Fitzwilliam has been missing. I do not want them to be alarmed and subsequently worry the children.”
He nods. “That is good thinking.”
We fall into an awkward silence and then I ask, “We are going to bring him home, Richard, right?”
“I will do everything in my power to make that happen, Elizabeth. I promise.”
I pick up my cup of tea and take a sip as Richard goes to the tray and prepares a cup for himself. I watch him intently. We have grown quite close over the last several months. I mean, we were always friends, but now I look to him as more of an older brother. Why has he not re-married?
Two days later, all arrangements being in order, the colonel and I board the Serenity. I have so many mixed emotions. This is the first time I have been on a ship since Fitzwilliam and I returned from Nassau. I am anxious because I pray we find him, but there is also a pit in my belly that makes me wonder what may happen on this voyage, as well as what we will find when we get there.
We board the ship and are immediately greeted by the ship’s captain, Captain Bancroft. “Good morning, Your Grace,” he says to me, then turns toward Richard and nods. “Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
Even though Thomas is the duke now, some still use my title as dowager duchess. Since I married Fitzwilliam, I actually forfeited my title. I giggle a little when I think back to a long time ago when Fitzwilliam had issues with my family. Ironic how my marriage to Bash put me in a higher social position where marrying him reduced my social class. Not that it matters between us anymore. As much as I would not trade Thomas for anything, as I love him dearly, we were such fools back then. Both of us were filled with strong prejudices and prideful airs, but everything happens for a reason, which is why we are where we are today.
“Good morning, Captain,” Richard says.
“My first mate will show you to your quarters. Nothing but the finest for the dowager and the Fitzwilliams.”
“Captain, I am sure the accommodations on this ship are befitting a queen, but surely you know from Colonel Fitzwilliam that I no longer hold the title of dowager. I am Mrs. Darcy now.”
“Indeed. Forgive me, Mrs. Darcy. But whether you be the dowager duchess or Mrs. Darcy, it is truly an honor you will be sailing with us.”
“Thank you, Captain. That is very kind.” I turn to follow his first mate but stop. “Captain, may I ask how long it will take before we arrive in Nassau?”
“Mrs. Darcy, that depends. Provided we do not encounter any bad weather and we can get a good wind on the sea, we will travel anywhere from four to six knots, getting us in Nassau in a little over a month.”
I was hoping things would have changed in the last twenty-two years, but sadly, it has not. Hang on, Fitzwilliam, Richard and I are coming for you. I follow the first mate to my quarters as two other members of the crew take my trunk and belongings. Looking toward Richard, I ask, “Colonel Fitzwilliam, I would like to lie down a bit before we get underway. Would you mind terribly?”
“Of course not, Mrs. Darcy. I’ll come fetch you for dinner.”
“Thank you.” I hesitate. I am not really in the mood to be socializing and would prefer to eat alone in my quarters, but the colonel has done so much for me, I do not have the heart to tell him otherwise. “And, Colonel, thank you for everything you have done.”
He gives me a knowing smile and nods. I proceed to follow the crewmembers to my room.
Elizabeth
Once I am settled, the crewmembers depart and I lie on the bed. It is not long before dreams of Fitzwilliam fill my head.
My thoughts drift back to our beginning. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley had just arrived at Netherfield, and it was rumored they would attend the Meryton Assembly, and they did. He walked into the assembly in a manner that exuded confidence and, sadly, disdain. I remember when I was told he owned half the land in Derbyshire, thinking it was the miserable half. Yes, he was handsome, but he looked down on everyone at the assembly except the party he attended with. After Bingley had danced most of the night with Jane, I happened to be standing near enough when he tried to get Mr. Darcy to find a lady and dance.
"Come, Darcy," said he. "I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance."
"I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged, and there is not another woman in the room whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with." He was so arrogant and pompous.
"I would not be so fastidious as you are," cried Mr. Bingley, "for a kingdom! Upon my honor, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life as I have this evening, and there are several of them you see uncommonly pretty."
"You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room," Mr. Darcy replied, glancing at my sister.
"Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty and, I dare say, very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you."
"Which do you mean?" And just then, he turned and looked directly at me, the expression on his face completely unreadable. He quickly turned back and said, "She is tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humor at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men.” He smirked. “You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me."
I believe that was the defining moment when I swore to loath him for all eternity. Oh, Fitzwilliam, I miss you so.
My mind continues to push through the past. I am now at Netherfield. Jane is ill and in one of the guest rooms upstairs. I remember how Bingley doted on her to bring her back to health. We had just finished dinner. I went upstairs to visit with my sister a bit and came back down to the parlor.
"Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example and take a turn about the room. I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so long in one attitude," Caroline Bingley encouraged. I really hated her calling me Eliza, but I let it go.
I found her request rather odd, but obliged. Miss Bingley was hoping for an offer from Mr. Darcy. That much was obvious. Her attempt to gain his attentions succeeded no less in the real object of her civility; when we started to walk about the room, Mr. Darcy looked up. He was reading a book but definitely took pause from his reading and watched us as made our way about the room. When he was invited to join us by Caroline, he closed his book and then declined. “I can only imagine two motives that would require you to walk about the room, and I believe that if I joined you, I would interfere with one of them.” I could not help the giggle that escaped me.
Caroline turned toward me and asked, “What ever could he mean?”
I knew exactly what he meant, but I was not going to be the one to tell her.
Instead, I played naïve. "Not at all." I leaned in and lowered my voice, making sure it was loud enough for him to hear. "But depend upon it. He means to be severe on us, and our surest way of disappointing him will be to ask nothing about it."
Miss Bingley, taking advantage of any opportunity possible to converse with Mr. Darcy, insisted he explain.
"I have not the smallest objection to explaining them," said he, as soon as she allowed him to speak. "You either choose this method of passing the evening because you are in each other's confidence and have secret affairs to discuss or because you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking. If the first, I would be completely in your way, and if the second, I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire."
Caroline brings her hand to her mouth. "Oh! shocking!" She giggles. "I never heard anything so abominable. How shall we punish him for such a speech?" She was desperately trying to flirt with him, and with each word that came from her mouth, the more annoyed he looked.
I decided to join in because goading Mr. Darcy had quickly become a favorite pastime of mine. "Nothing so easy, if you have but the inclination." I looked over at him. "We can all plague and punish one another… tease him, laugh at him. Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done."
"But upon my honor, I do not. I do assure you that my intimacy has not yet taught me that. Tease calmness of manner and presence of mind! No, no I feel he may defy us there. And as to laughter, we will not expose ourselves, if you please, by attempting to laugh without a subject. Mr. Darcy may hug himself."
"Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at!" I cried in shock. "That is an uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would be a great loss to me to have many such acquaintances. I dearly love a laugh."
Mr. Darcy interrupted us. "Miss Bingley has given me more credit than she should. The wisest and the best of men—nay, the wisest and best of their actions—may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke."
I could not take any more and responded quickly. "Certainly there are such people, but I hope I am not one of them. I hope I never ridicule what is wise and good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies, do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. But these, I suppose, are precisely what you insist you are without."
"Perhaps that is not possible for anyone. But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses, which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule," he replied. Oh, he was making this so easy.
"Are you referring to vanity and pride, Mr. Darcy?"
He set his book on the table next to him and looked directly at me. "Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed, but pride where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation."
I turned away with a smile. Yes indeed, Mr. Darcy, I am doing my best to find a fault in you.
Caroline could be ignored no more and pushed herself into the conversation. "Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over. I presume and pray, what is the result?"
Proudly, I responded, "I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect. He owns it himself without disguise."
Mr. Darcy stood. "No, I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding—certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost forever."
And there it was. "That is a failing indeed!" I cried. "Implacable resentment is a shade in a character, but you have chosen your fault well. I really cannot laugh at it. You are safe from me."
"There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil—a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome."
"And your defect is to hate everybody,” I pushed.
He quickly retorted. “And yours, madam," he replied with a smile, "is willfully to misunderstand them."
We stared at each for what seemed like an eternity, but it was only a second or two. Well, I guess he put me in my place. I think it was then when I thought perhaps I may have misjudged him.
Caroline quickly interrupted again, in an effort to break the connection between us. "Do let us have a little music," cried Miss Bingley, tired of a conversation in which she had no share. "Louisa, you will not mind my waking Mr. Hurst?"
I smile at the memories. We had such a rocky start. Who would have known we would have ended up so much in love? I close my eyes with a hope I will remember more.
I am now at the Netherfield ball, and Mr. Darcy has just asked me to dance. I agreed and then, when he walked away, quickly questioned why I would ever agree to such a thing. Charlotte tried to console me. "I dare say you will find him very agreeable."
"Heaven forbid! That would be the greatest misfortune of all, to find a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! Do not wish me such an evil." Her attempt was admirable, but she just made me feel worse.
A few minutes later, the dancing recommenced and Darcy approached to claim my hand. As I took his hand, a shiver went down my spine. We took our place in the set, and I was amazed at the dignity to which I arrived in being allowed to stand opposite Mr. Darcy. Everyone in the room stopped and stared, their equal amazement in beholding the sight. I may have come from a humble background, but the honor bestowed upon me to stand with Mr. Darcy did not escape me.
We stood for some time without speaking a word, and I began to worry that this awkward silence was to last through the next two dances. I could not take it anymore and decided I would break it myself. “I dare say, I believe private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. Do you not agree?”
“Indeed,” he replied and said nothing further. Was that all I was to get? This was unacceptable. He was not going to make me carry the conversation.
"It is your turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some sort of remark on the size of the room or the number of couples."
He smiled and assured me that whatever I wished him to say should be said.
"Very well. That reply will do for the present. And now we may be silent."
Then he surprised me and spoke again "Do you talk by rule, then, while you are dancing?"
"Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together; and yet for the advantage of some, conversation ought to be so arranged, as that they may have the trouble of saying as little as possible."
"Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine you are gratifying mine?"
"Both," I replied archly. "For I have always seen a great similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the éclat of a proverb."
"This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure," said he. "How near it may be to mine, I cannot pretend to say. You think it a faithful portrait undoubtedly."
"I must not decide on my own performance."
He made no answer, and we were again silent for some time, then he asked, “Do you and your sisters often walk to Meryton?”
I found his question rather odd but then remembered we had encountered him a day or so ago. We were with George Wickham.
I am quickly taken from my memories. Wickham! To think that at one time I believed him over Fitzwilliam… I believed Wickham was truly injured by Fitzwilliam’s actions against him, and now, he has my husband. I swear if he harms one hair on his head, I will kill him myself.
I shake my head. I cannot think about this now. I want to go back. I want to go back to the Netherfield ball…
"When you met us there the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance." I had sensed the tension between him and Wickham, and now I was waiting for his reaction. He knew where I was going with this.
The effect was immediate. A deeper shade of hauteur overspread his features, but he said not a word, and I, though blaming myself for my own weakness, could not go on. At length Darcy spoke, and in a constrained manner he said, "Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends. Whether he may be equally capable of retaining them is less certain."
"He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship," I replied with emphasis, "and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life."
Darcy made no answer and seemed desirous of changing the subject, but I was not ready for that. "I remember hearing you once say, Mr. Darcy, that you hardly ever forgave, that your resentment once created was unappeasable. You are very cautious, I suppose, as to its being created."
"I am," he said with a firm voice.
“And you never allow yourself to be blinded by prejudice?"
"I should hope not."
"It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, to be secure of judging properly at first," I replied.
"May I ask to what these questions tend?"
"Merely to the illustration of your character," I said, looking him directly in the eye. "I am trying to make it out."
"And what is your conclusion?"
I shook my head. "I do not get to say. I hear such different accounts of you, and they puzzle me exceedingly."
"I can readily believe," answered he gravely, "that reports may vary greatly with respect to me; and I could wish, Miss Bennet, that you were not to sketch my character at the present moment, as there is reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either."
I smile and say teasingly, "But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity."
"I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours," he replied coldly.
We finished our dance and parted in silence. He left me more confused than ever.
Sleep finally takes over.
I wake sobbing. When I look out the porthole, I am surprised to find it is dark outside. I thought Richard was going to wake me for dinner. I sit up in bed and feel the ship sway to and fro. Oh goodness, the waters are rough this evening. I wonder how long we have been at sea. I get up from the bed and walk to the vanity mirror. I look dreadful. Frankly though, we are on a ship, and it does not get any better than this.
I make my way to the main deck and conveniently run into Captain Bancroft. “Mrs. Darcy, you really should return to your room. The waters are a bit choppy, and I would hate for you to get jostled and hurt yourself.”
“Is it a storm, Captain?”
“No, just rough seas. A storm blew through these waters last evening, and I believe we are getting some of the after effects. Should be calm by morning.”
“How long have we been underway?”
He pulls out his pocket watch and looks at it. “Oh, I would say about six or seven hours now.” Oh goodness, I slept for such a long time.
“And the colonel? Where might I find him?”
“His cabin is on the same deck as yours, right next door.” He looks out into the water as the ship takes a heavy sway. “Now, Mrs. Darcy, please get below.”
“Yes, Captain. I am going now.” Turning back the way I came I make my way back to my cabin. Before I depart his company, I ask, “Captain, might I trouble you for something to eat?”
“Of course. I will have a crewman bring you something.”
“Thank you, Captain.” I turn and take my leave, doing as I am told and return to my cabin.
A few minutes later, there is a knock at my door. “Mrs. Darcy, I have a tray for ye, madam,” the person calls from the other side of the door.
I open it and am greeted by the ship’s first mate.
“Captain asked me personally to deliver this to ye.” He sets the tray on the table and walks to the door. “Will ye be needin’ anythin’ else?”
“No, thank you.”
Once he leaves, I sit down to eat. I am famished. I look at my meal… and cry. Salmagundi. I know it is a common meal on ships because Fitzwilliam told me as much my first night on the Absolution. I smirk. It was the night he forced me to dine with him. I take a few bites, and in a manner of minutes, the rumbling in my belly begins to subside. The ship still has not settled. I am afraid that if I eat, the swaying will make me ill, but hunger overtakes my motion sickness, and I feel much better getting some food in me.
When I finish, I decide to see if Richard is still awake. I really would like to talk with him to see if he has any sort of plan to find Fitzwilliam. When I think about it, I have no idea where to begin looking for him, but I pray Richard does.
Elizabeth – September 1946
We have been at sea for three weeks, and Captain says we should arrive in Nassau in about one more. I have been away from Fitzwilliam for six months now, six very long, heartbreaking months. As each day passes, I miss him more and my fear for his life grows. Will we arrive in time? What are Wickham’s plans?
Richard and I have talked through every scenario we could think of, but there is one common flaw in all of them: we have no idea where Wickham is holding him. We are not even sure at this point that Fitzwilliam is still in Nassau. Without that pertinent bit of information, we can plan all we like, but we still will not find him. Our only ray of hope is for Winston to have news for us when we arrive.
It is early morning, and I am making my way on deck to walk with Richard. We started walking in the mornings. Seems our heads are a little clearer earlier in the day so we work through our plans. The passing up until this point has been very pleasant, and I am anxious that we are so close.
I arrive on deck, and fear grips me when I see the skies are dark and the ships masts are flapping in strong winds. I see Richard and the captain talking on the stern, so I make my way over to find out what is happening—as if I do not already know. I have already experienced a storm at sea.
Twenty-two years ago…
“Capt’n, I fear we may be sailing into some bad weather. The winds have picked up, and if ye see over yonder, we be seeing some black clouds heading our way.”
Max looked up to the skies, and I could see he was surprised by what he saw. I saw it too. The clouds that Smead spoke of were fast approaching, which left us little time to prepare.
“We are going to have to act fast, Smead,” he said.
“Aye, aye, Capt’n,” Smead replied.
And then, like a force to be reckoned with, Max began barking orders. “All hands on deck! Furl the main sails!”
Men were scurrying everywhere, carrying out his orders. I was in awe of him and the power he commanded. Amid the chaos on the deck, he moved toward me and said, “Go back to your cabin. Now. Try to secure anything in your cabin that will move, and make sure Thomas stays in that hammock!”
“But, Max, I can help!” I yelled, protesting as the wind drastically picked up. I tried like the dickens to maintain my balance, but when the ship took a sharp lean to the left, I fell into his arms.
For a moment, time stood still. I knew it was where I was supposed to be. It did not matter the ship was most likely going to sink from the storm or that we were all going to die. No, nothing mattered but being there, with him. His gaze never left mine, and I silently begged, Kiss me, Max. But he did not.
He looked around the ship again and said, “No! Go now!” he yelled as he pushed me away. “Once we get things handled up here, I will be down to check on you and Thomas. Now go!”
“But—”
“GO!”
Slighted, I turned and headed back down the stairs.
We survived, thankfully with minimal damage to the ship, but will we survive the impeding storm now headed our way? Will this captain be as good as Max and save his ship and crew? I have no idea.
When I approach Richard and the captain, I hear the captain say, “Colonel Fitzwilliam, please return to your cabin.” He turns toward me. “You too.” He glances around him. “I do not know what this storm will bring, but it is not looking good. It will be much easier for us to do what we need to prepare without having to worry about our passengers.”
Richard makes an attempt to protest, but the captain quickly stops him.
“Colonel, please.”
Richard nods, and he takes hold of my arm.
“Come, we must do as the captain says.”
I nod and walk with Richard.
Once we are a few steps away, I ask, “It is bad?”
“It is.” He says nothing else until he gets to my cabin. “We need to secure everything we can.” We step inside my cabin to prepare. Once we have everything as secure as we can, he says, “I will go do the same in my cabin, then I will return and ride this storm out with you.” He places his hands on my shoulder. “I will not leave you alone, Elizabeth. I owe Darcy that much.”
As he turns to leave my cabin, I call, “Richard! Do be careful!”
He nods and exits the room. The ship sways some more, and it is making me crazy that I do not know what is going on out there. I know I am safer where I am, but the not knowing is killing me.
Not fifteen minutes later, Richard returns and says, “Here, let us just sit here on the floor and wait.”
I do as he says, close my eyes, and pray.
Memories of the Absolution fill my head.
Thomas and I had remained in our cabin just as Max had instructed. Not long after we got everything secured, my cabin door opened slowly. In walked Max.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
I was so glad to see him and to know he was safe. “Yes, I think I have stowed everything I could,” I said with a quiver in my voice. I was scared.
He looked over at Thomas, who was sitting on the floor next to me. “Thomas should be in his hammock. It will secure him, and he will move with the ship,” he said.
“I tried, Max, but he refused.”
“I wanna stay with my Momma!” Thomas cried.
I looked up at him, silently begging him to allow Thomas to stay with me. I would have never admitted it to him, but I needed Thomas with me as much as Thomas needed me. All we had were each other, and we had learned when Bash passed that we could endure just about anything as long as we were together.
“Fine. I must return on deck. Stay on the floor. It is going to get a lot worse before it gets better.”
As he turned to leave the room, I begged, “Max! Please do not go up there!” Suddenly, I was so afraid something bad would happen to him. I wanted him to stay with us, where he would be safe.
“I must. I cannot leave my crew to do work I would not do myself,” he replied.
“But what if you get hurt?” I cried.
The look of surprise on his face does not escape me. “Would you be sad if I did?”
“Of course I would. So why do you not stay here with Thomas and me? We need you,” I stated.
He shrugged. “If I could, I would.” He walked toward me and kissed Thomas and me on the forehead, then said, “But it warms my heart that you worry for my safety.” He turned to leave but moved slowly. Perhaps he changed his mind and he is staying? He turned back and said, “Be safe. I shall return.”
We will survive this. I must remain strong and confident that although we may experience some damage, we will survive, get to Fitzwilliam, and bring him home.
For the next hour or so, the ship sways in a fury unlike I have ever known. It is a good thing I am on the floor because I would not have been able to stand with the ship moving as frantically as it is. We can hear yelling and banging, and I fear the ship is falling apart around us. Richard and I do not speak, just brace ourselves for what will be when this is all over.
When the ship finally stops swaying and it feels like we are on calmer waters, I turn toward Richard and break the silence. “Is it over?”
“It feels like it, but we must wait here.”
“But, Richard, we must know what has happened.”
He grabs a hold of my arm as I try to stand. “No, we will wait. The crew will inform us.”
“Sure, if there is any crew left,” I reply smartly.
Fitzwilliam
From the small window in my cell, I watch as a squall comes from the southwest, and the waters come upon land. The force of the ocean and the wind pushes water into the town, flooding everything in its path. Flood waters then advance north, and I fear for the farms I remember being in that direction. Beyond them is my island home. Although the house is farther inland and sits on a knoll, I fear it will not survive. In all the years I had lived on this island and experienced storms at sea, I never in all my days saw anything like this.
“I believe, Darcy, the world is ending,” Wickham says in a panic. “How have you ever endured something like this?” He must not have ever experienced such a storm. I can see fear in his eyes. His two men are huddled in the corner of the room and are not doing much to ease his fear.
I decide I will not ease his fears either. He has made my life a living hell, and I will not bring him any comfort now. He can suffer and drown for all I care. “Welcome to the West Indies, Wickham. You obviously have not thoroughly planned your kidnapping. You have kept me here too long, so now you must endure the storms that hit this time of year.”
I look back out the window and then turn away. I can no longer watch the town I love so well be destroyed. When the water begins to enter the jail, Wickham screams, “We are going to die!” What a livid little coward he is. I have always known it, but I cannot help but chuckle to myself as I watch him squirm.
I make my way to the cot I sleep on and sit there. Thankfully, only about a foot of water has entered my cell. I will admit I am a bit worried that we will sustain too much water and I could likely be trapped here, but I know how these storms work. They move in and out fast, and fear will subside. I am sure the building will survive. Part of me is thankful, but I am ashamed to say part of me is disappointed. I have been away from my family for six months. I know I will never see them again, and part of me just wants to die.
The smile on Elizabeth’s face when she said “I do” blinds my senses, her eyes sparkling with happy tears. No! I am not ready to die! I think to myself. I must return to my family.
“You better take cover, Wickham, and pray.” I say, feeding his fears.
“You may be praying for my death, Darcy, but you might want to think twice. There is nobody who knows you are here.” He walks toward me waving a gun around frantically. This surprises me because with his military experience, one would think he we have more control when holding a weapon. A smile comes across my face as I realize, he’s losing control. “You may survive the storm, but you will die in that cell.”
I do not utter a word but think to myself, Oh, but you are wrong, dear Wickham. My sister knows I am here. Of that, I am sure.
An hour or so later, the storm winds and rain ease up, and I wait. Wickham is huddled in the corner with his men. We have gotten about a foot and half of water inside, so the damage to the cell is minimal, as I had expected. I glance out the window and am heartbroken at what I see. Water consumes most of the town, and it look as if the sea has grown and moved onto the land. I silently pray, “Please let Georgianna, Winston, and the staff be safe.”
Wickham notices the quiet and looks up. “Is it over?” he asks.
“I believe so.”
“And we live!” he says, rejoicing. My patience with him is running thin, and I want nothing more than to walk over there and punch him. It’s not the most gentlemanly thing to do, but it sure would feel good.
“I must go see the damage,” Wickham says.
“Are you mad? You must stay here, at least until some of the water recesses back to sea.”
“Darcy, you were always the cautious one. Not me.” He walks toward his two men. “Come, we are leaving.”
They look at him, likely thinking he has lost his mind, and reluctantly stand. As Wickham approaches the door, he tries to open it but cannot. “The door will not open.”
“Like I said, you must wait until the water recedes. It is probably blocked by water. If you open the door, you will allow more water to enter.”
He scowls. “I really hate it when you are right.”
I sit back down on my cot and wait.
Several hours pass. Wickham, who has been pacing through the water the entire time, looks out the window. “I think we can get out now.” He opens the door, and while it still offers some resistance, he is able to get it open as more water flows into the jail. He looks at his men. “Come.”
They all leave without another word.
An hour or so later, he returns. Bursting into the building, he exclaims, “Darcy, you will not believe the devastation! The wind and water have destroyed most buildings as well as the wharves. Ships that were docked and anchored have been relocated by the gales dragging them, anchor and all, out to sea.”
“And yet we are still here,” I say sarcastically.
He grins. “Yes, we are.”
I grow to hate him more and more every day.
“But we must move you inland.”
“Why?”
“Because, it is what I want,” Wickham replies and then everything goes black.
Elizabeth
Richard and I waited for hours for a crewmember to fetch us. Relief washed over me when the first mate knocked on my door. “Mrs. Darcy, are you all right?” he asks from the other side of the door.
I quickly rise and run to open it. “Yes, we are all right.”
He looks in the room. “Oh good, Colonel, you are here as well. I was going to check on you next.”
Richard steps forward. “Are we badly damaged?”
“We are, but the crew is working diligently to rig temporary sails to get us to shore. The water remained above the rails for the majority of the storm. The wind cut away the main mast, which brought the fore-topmast, the foreyard, and the head of the foremast hanging up and down the mast. It is bad, but we can makeshift the masts to get us home.”
I did not understand a single word he said, but I got the message loud and clear. Our situation is precarious at best. He looks down. Something else is wrong. I can tell by the look in his eyes. “I do have some bad news, however.”
“What?” I ask anxiously.
“The captain has asked me to inform you that we have been shifted off course. We are not sure where we are as of yet, but our arrival in Nassau will surely be delayed. We also do not know what shape Nassau is in and may have to make port at another location.” He looks over at Richard and says, “We have had some casualties as well, so we are a bit shorthanded.”
“May I assist you?” Richard asks.
“Yes, I was hoping you would.”
“I can help,” I say.
The first mate turns toward me and says, “Mrs. Darcy, you will be a bigger help if you remain in your cabin. We have a lot of work to do, and frankly, you will just be in the way.”
I pout. Richard and the first mate leave, and I am left alone in my cabin, pacing. How long will we be delayed? I wonder. We must get to Nassau and soon.
I spend the next several hours trying anything to pass the time. I start with my needlepoint but cannot concentrate on it. I try to read, as it has always helped me in the past, but even that does not help. I spend the time continuing to pace until Richard returns.
“How bad is it?” I ask when he enters my cabin. I have not slept in twenty or so hours and am exhausted. But I cannot rest easy until I know exactly where we stand.
“It is pretty bad.”
Tears well in my eyes.
“The masts have been mended, but they are not the best. We had to work with what we had.”
A tear runs down my cheek.
“The captain has determined that we are somewhere off the coast of America, near North Carolina, pushing our arrival back about a week.”
“Another week?” I ask, defeated. My heart sinks. “I fear we will not get to Fitzwilliam in time.”
“Elizabeth, look at me,” he says, grabbing my shoulders firmly. “We will. You cannot give up hope now. It is all we have.” He is right, and I nod. We have to remain strong and hopeful.
I ask a question both of us fear. “Do you think Nassau was hit?”
He looks down and then back up at me. “Unfortunately, I do.”
“Perhaps by the time we arrive, they will have made repairs to allow ships to dock,” I say, hopeful.
“That is my girl. This is the attitude we need, and you are right. Our delay will give them time to rebuild the docks in the event they may have been damaged.”
I know I said the words, but frankly, I hardly believe them.
As the days pass, the ship slowly makes its way toward Nassau. Our ship is crippled and not at its best, so even if we get a good wind, we are not sailing at full capacity. When we finally arrive in Nassau, I cannot believe my eyes. What was once the town and docks I remembered is gone. There are two makeshift docks, but they are occupied by two ships. We are off the coast and must wait for one of the two ships to depart before we can dock. We wait for two more days, and finally, one of the ships pulls out of the docks.
I watch as it sails by and am pleased to see it is the Absolution. It no longer carries the Jolly Roger Fitzwilliam had designed for it but now proudly hails the Calico Trading Company flag. Since the storm, it is the first true ray of hope I have had.
When we finally arrive at the dock, Richard makes arrangements for a carriage to take us to our home, while I get everything packed and ready to be taken as well.
As we pull away from the docks, the devastation around me is overwhelming. The city is in shambles, and it breaks my heart. I pray our home is still standing and that Georgianna and Winston are well, but who knows what we shall encounter when we get there.
As we turn the corner and proceed down the drive, the house comes into view. It is still there in all its glory, and I squeal. “Look, Richard, the house still stands!”
He chuckles. “Yes it does.”
We pull up in front, and standing on the porch are Georgianna and Winston. “I sent word when we docked, letting them know we were on our way.”
I quickly get out of the carriage and run to Georgianna to give her a big hug. “Thank God you both are well.”
“Oh, Elizabeth, I feel the same about you and Richard.” She tightens her embrace, and we hold each other for a few more seconds. When she loosens her grip, I step back and turn toward Winston. “Any word from Fitzwilliam?”
He smiles and I take it as a good sign. “I have some news. Come inside and get settled. I will fill you in on everything.”
We step into the house, and it is still the same. Georgianna has changed nothing, and I feel as if I just came home. It was still the island paradise I remembered, untouched by the storm. Winston led us directly to the study and ordered tea.
Once Richard and I settle in, with a warm cup of tea for each of us, Winston speaks. “After Georgianna saw Fitzwilliam in town, I did some investigating. First, I visited the solicitor whose office he was rushed into. Upon my first visit, the solicitor remained quiet and said he did not remember seeing a man fitting Fitzwilliam’s likeness. I decided not to push him at that time, for I knew he was lying, but I wanted to give him a false sense of hope that he was not being scrutinized. A few days later, however, I returned.” He begins to pace and continues. “This time, I made sure I had something to bargain with. In my pocket was twenty-five pounds.”
He walks to the window and stands with his back toward us. “I had hoped it would be enough to encourage the solicitor to speak.” He turns back to face us. “Luckily, it was. He confirmed that yes, indeed Fitzwilliam was with George Wickham. They visited because he had drawn up some papers where Darcy would sign over the Calico Trading Company to Wickham. The solicitor said Fitzwilliam was handcuffed and he felt he was being forced to sign the papers. He did not feel comfortable pushing the transaction through, and so he refused.” Winston moves over to the desk, opens the top drawer, and pulls out some papers. Handing them to Richard, he says, “These are the papers the solicitor drew up.”
Richard takes the papers, and after reading through them for a couple of minutes, he says, “He was just going to give him the company. There is no transfer of money anywhere in these papers.”
“Wickham was forcing him,” I say matter-of-factly.
“It looks that way. He must have threatened you or Georgianna. Hell, he may even have threatened the children. What else could it be?”
I set my tea on the table and address Richard directly. “He threatened to expose him, remember? Is that not what the letters said?”
“Oh Lord, I had forgotten about those. It was so long ago.” He rakes his hand through his hair. “But knowing my cousin as well as I do, he would sacrifice himself to save his family. The threat to expose him was there, but the threat to his family would have caused him to succumb to Wickham’s demands.”
“Letters?” Georgianna asks. “What letters?”
Richard proceeds to tell Georgianna and Winston everything we know.
When he is finished, Georgianna sighs. “Oh, good Lord. Poor Fitzwilliam.”
Richard turns back toward Winston. “Do you think he is still alive?”
“I do,” Winston replies. “If not only for the reason that I have received no word about the trading company transferring ownership. If Wickham wants Calico, then he needs to keep Fitzwilliam alive to achieve it.”
“Winston, do you have any idea where they may be?” I ask.
“I thought I had a lead. Right before the storm hit, I had a hunch he was keeping him in the old jail in town. It had not been used in a couple of years because it was too small. They built a new one and moved all the prisoners to the new location. But then the storm hit, and I was not able to go down there. We all had to stay inside and wait for the storm to pass. It was the worst these parts had ever seen. Once the roads were clear enough for passage, I went down there, but it was empty.”
“Oh,” I say, disappointed, and sit back down. Why can we not have something go our way? First it took months for us to know he was with Wickham, and it was only because Georgianna happened to be in town that day and saw him. I guess you could call that a break. But then a month crossing, the storm, and getting blown off course… Now this. Something has to give. It must. “So what do we do now?”
“We scour this town and find him. Winston and I will set out tomorrow at first light,” Richard states. He looks toward Winston, and he nods.
“We can engage some of the staff to help as well,” Winston says.
“And what should Georgianna and I do? I want to help as well.”
Richard looks directly at me and says, “Absolutely not.” He moves to sit in the settee next to me, taking my hand. “Elizabeth, I know you want to find him. You know I want to find him too. But I cannot do this while I worry about you and my cousin. Please promise me you and Georgianna will stay here.”
I quickly take my hand away and reluctantly reply, “I promise.” I am not happy about this, but a part of me understands. I would hate to be the reason if something goes wrong.
“I’ll make sure she stays put, cousin,” Georgianna says.
I glare at her. Traitor.
Fitzwilliam
Wickham moved me to a small outbuilding on the countryside. I am totally removed from town, and I fear, out here, I may never be found. He has been hiding here as well, and currently he and his men are asleep on the floor, scattered around the room. They have me cuffed and tied to a chair, not having the luxury of a cell. I have not slept, and frankly, I am exhausted. Sleeping in a chair I am tied to is not an easy thing to do. I close my eyes and try to remember a happier time.
Once the food had been removed from the room, I paced back and forth. I looked over at Elizabeth and said, “You may want to sit over here.” I gestured toward the rocking chair in the corner of the room. “This is not going to be short, and I want you to be comfortable.”
She stayed where she was at the table, which I took as her only way to have some control in a situation that was not giving her any. So be it.
“Eleven years ago,” I said, “I met a woman. No, wait, I must go back further.” I took a deep breath and continued. “I suppose you remember that I told you I was raised a gentleman. However, I never elaborated on my family when you and I would talk. Well, my family is one of the richest families in England. We have an estate in Derbyshire, a townhouse in London, and an extensive list of other properties. I have holdings in many businesses in England as well as in the West Indies. My uncle is an earl, and I have an aunt in Kent who also has quite extensive holdings and property.”
I waited to see if she made a connection to anything I had said, especially my mention of having an aunt in Kent, but she just stared at me blankly.
“My parents died when I was one and twenty, and they left me to raise my younger sister.”
Still, she showed no sign of any recognition.
“I spent most of my days in the throes of London society. It was not what I wanted, but I knew it was necessary if my sister was going to have any chance at a future. I did what I had to do. I spent most of my time avoiding marriage. With my ten thousand a year, many mothers were sure I would make their daughters the perfect husband. It left me selfish and taciturn. I became prideful. I was convinced that every single woman who expressed any interest in my attentions was only interested in my money.” I paused for a moment and walked to the table to take a swig of the rum Mr. Balmore had left on the table. I held up the bottle and offered some to Elizabeth. To my surprise, she held up her glass, so I poured.
“Captain, may I speak?” Elizabeth asked.
“Yes, what is it?”
“What does any of this have to do with me? I do not understand why you are telling me this,” she said.
“It has everything to do with you. Please, let me continue.” Apparently, I had said enough to pique her curiosity, as she nodded for me to continue.
“About eleven years ago, I assisted a friend in finding an estate in…” I looked at her in anticipation. “In Hertfordshire.”
She immediately looked up at me, surprised, but did not say a word.
“While there, I felt the walls closing in on me. Every mother in the county was trying to catch a husband for her daughter, and I was the first choice. I could not wait to leave that place, but my friend needed my assistance, and so I remained there for him. He subsequently found an estate. Not long after, to my surprise, he also found a woman he wanted to marry. It was obvious my friend was deeply in love with this woman, but I did not see her reciprocate his affections. Because of this, I feared she, too, was interested in his money and not him, so I discouraged him from the match. When I learned long after that I had been mistaken in my judgment, I quickly rectified the situation. I believe he and this woman are now quite happy.” I took a deep breath and waited, but Elizabeth said nothing.
“Because of my opinions of his choice at the time, I encouraged him to leave Hertfordshire, which we did. I had hoped my friend and I were done with that place.”
She was intently watching me now. She knew. She knew who I was and what I had done. She knew everything, but she did not say a word and allowed me to proceed. I wished I could read her mind. I had been so afraid of her reaction, and her silence was killing me. Of course, I had told her—no, I had commanded her—to not say a word. Why would she choose this time to actually listen to me when I so desperately needed her to say something?
“Leaving Hertfordshire did not help either of us. You see, I had met a woman there as well. She was completely captivating and had bewitched me, body and soul. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever beheld, and her mind was just as beautiful. She was witty and charming, and she challenged me at every turn. I was besotted.”
Again I waited, yet nothing escaped her lips.
I adjusted my coat and continued, “So I found myself in London, alone and dreaming of a woman who would never know I admired and loved her. Several months after our return to London, my cousin informed me he was going to Kent to visit our aunt. I decided to join him. I hoped a change of scenery would help my disposition, but needless to say, it did not. I had not been in Kent one night when I walked into my aunt’s parlor only to find said woman sitting on her settee having tea with my aunt, my cousin, and the local parson and his wife. I could not be rid of her.
“However, I believed fate had dealt me this hand for a reason, and she was expecting me to take full advantage of the opportunity she had laid before me. So I did. After several days in said woman’s company, I asked for her hand in marriage.”
She still had not said a word. I was getting more and more nervous but knew at this point I could not stop. I had to go on and risk everything.
“It was the worst proposal I could have ever made. To this day, I regret it. I never thought I would have the opportunity to fix it, but again, and only recently, fate made another play upon which I had to act.” I paused again, looked at her pleadingly, and continued. “As I was saying, the proposal was dreadful. While I was telling this woman I loved her, I also insulted her and her family. I had struggled with my love for her. I was raised to marry in certain circles and definitely not for love. When love stepped in and took control, I did not know how to handle it. I had never experienced those kinds of feelings before and could not understand how they could be more powerful than my duty to my family. So instead of telling this woman I could not live without her and that I would love her forever, I told her I was proposing against my better judgment. As you can imagine, she refused me. She not only refused me but she made very specific judgements against me. Some of these were true, but others were unfounded. I hope by now she has realized her errors in judgment.” I looked at her hopefully, silently begging her for some reaction.
Again, she gave me nothing.
“I left Kent and the woman I loved from the deepest depths of my heart behind, and I returned to London. I tried to return to my old way of life, but everything seemed unattractive and stale. I took to wandering the streets of London, half sober, half drunk, trying to make sense of my life. I found no salvation. What I did find, however, was how poorly many people in London lived. The city gave nothing to its poor or homeless. I decided then that my life was going to have meaning instead of being idle, as it had been. I decided I was going to find absolution for my prideful airs and prejudiced assumptions.
“With the help of my cousin, Richard, we came up with the Adelia Baxter Foundation for the Less Fortunate. The plan was to use this foundation to bring money into the city to help the poor and needy. The foundation had to be anonymous and have no connection to me. Richard oversaw the management of the foundation and assured me the money would be put to good use. Richard is a colonel in the militia, and he used his connections to secure for me this ship. He has also been caring for my estate in Derbyshire, as well as my sister.
“My life as I knew it was over. I was ready to start again. I changed my name and became a pirate in the image of Sam Bellamy and the fabled Robin Hood. Yes, I plunder ships. My crew gets their cut like any pirates would, but my cut goes to the foundation. For eleven years, I have added to the foundation, and for eleven years, it has truly helped the less fortunate in London.” I cleared my throat. “I had found peace at sea and had become accustomed to this way of life. That is until three weeks ago when you walked into my office on this ship.”
I was afraid to look at her, but I knew I had to. After several minutes of simply waiting for her to say something, I glanced in her direction. She was still sitting at the table, silently looking at her hands.
After what seemed like an eternity, she finally looked up at me. Tears welled in her eyes as she met my gaze. Everything in me wanted to walk over to her and take her in my arms. I wanted to reassure her everything would be all right.
Despite everything I wanted to do, I did nothing. I was too afraid to make assumptions as to what she was feeling and too guarded to take another chance at her rejection. I refused to allow her to trample my heart yet again.
Tears fell from her eyes, and we continued to stare at each other until she finally spoke. “Mr. Darcy?”
It was in that moment, when she truly knew my identity, that I could see the love in her teary eyes. I had told her everything and was left to wait until she decided our fate. Thankfully, she made the right choice. Thankfully, she and I have had a wonderful life together, as it was meant to be.
I open my eyes. Reality settles in, and I fear I will never see her again. The storm pretty much sealed my fate. I no longer have a view from the window and now fear I am too far removed from civilization for anyone to find me now.
Elizabeth
Richard and Winston, along with several men who work the plantation, left early this morning. I had to promise again that I would stay here, but the waiting is killing me.
“Georgianna, I shall go mad!” I exclaim. We are both in the library reading, and I cannot take it anymore.
“You heard Richard,” she admonishes.
“What about a walk?” I ask, hoping she concedes. It is not that I am subject to Georgianna’s approval, but I know as soon as I leave the house without her, she will go find Winston and Richard and tell them. If I get her on my side, she is in as much trouble as I am. Probably not the most sisterly thing to do, but there you have it. I am desperate.
“Well,” she says, looking at me sheepishly. “It would get our minds off things for a bit.”
I got her. “That is exactly what I was thinking. Sitting here trying to occupy ourselves is not working. A nice walk and fresh air should do the trick.”
“I agree,” she says. We both put our books down and make our way to the foyer. Georgianna approaches Greta, the housemaid who took Maggie’s place after she left Nassau with my father. “Mrs. Darcy and I are going out for a walk.”
“Are ya sure you should be doing that, Mrs. Hughes?” Greta questions. “Mr. Hughes left orders that you and Mrs. Darcy were not to leave the house.”
“We shall stay on the grounds.”
“If you say so, madam.” We walk toward the front door, and she calls to us, “Please do be careful. The ground is a bit unsettled from the storm and may still be a bit muddy.”
Georgianna looks at me and says, “If memory serves me correctly, you are not opposed to a little mud.”
I laugh as we walk out the door. “Did Fitzwilliam tell you about that?”
Georgianna laughs. “He did. He was so impressed with the fact you would walk so far in the mud, just to tend to a sick sister when you knew all along she was being cared for.”
“Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were not impressed,” I say as we walk down the drive. “As I walked out of the room, I heard what she said to Fitzwilliam. If I recall correctly, Miss Bingley said, ‘Did you see her hem, Mr. Darcy, at least six inches covered in mud? Shameful,’” I say in my best Carolina Bingley imitation.
We both laugh and walk on.
“You know, Elizabeth, you and Fitzwilliam had quite a rocky start. When I think about it, it often surprises me that you ended up married.”
I giggle. “Want me let you in on a little secret?”
She nods.
“Me too.” I sigh. “But you cannot tempt fate. Fitzwilliam and I were meant to be, and nothing, not even an ocean separating us, was going to keep us apart.”
“There is something to be said about two people who find each other time after time. It seems no matter what the situations may be, or what they end up in, or even how far apart they become, fate is always on their side.” She looks over at me and smiles. “It is as if fate is screaming ‘stop separating!’ or something of that sort.” She giggles.
“I guess it is,” I say sadly.
“Elizabeth, I have made you sad. I am sorry. I did not think. Here I am talking about you and Fitzwilliam when we have no idea where he is. Forgive me?”
“My dear sister, it does not bother me to talk about him. He is still alive, and now, since we arrived, I am more hopeful than ever that Richard and Winston will find him. I am just sad because I miss him so.”
“I believe, Elizabeth, that people who are meant to be together will always find their way to each other. Fitzwilliam will come home, and this whole ordeal will become nothing but a memory.”
I do not respond but silently pray she is right. We continue our walk in silence. The grounds of Pemberley’s Paradise are beautiful, with fields and fields of onions, okra, and tomatoes, not to mention the beautiful tropical flowers. I did not realize how much I missed all this until now.
We are gone for almost an hour when Georgianna says, “We should probably start to head back, do you not think?”
“Perhaps,” I reply, really not paying attention to her as my eyes become transfixed on a small building beyond some trees to our left. “Georgianna, what is that?”
“What?”
I point toward the building and say, “That.”
“Oh, I do not know. I imagine it is probably one of the old servants’ residents. The house and all the land once belonged to Lord Dunmore. He governed the colony until the late seventeen nineties.” She pauses and glances again at the building. “Perhaps it still stands from when he lived here.”
“I do not remember it from the last time I was here, but then again, I do not think I walked this far away from the house.” I stop walking and turn back the way we came. “But you are right. We should be getting back.” She turns and we begin walking back to the house. As we walk, I cannot help but look back at the building periodically until it is out of view.
Roughly an hour later, we arrive, and Richard and Winston have not returned. It is getting dark outside, and I cannot help but worry about them. Greta brings us tea, and we patiently wait for them to return.
I cannot get that building out of my mind, which completely puzzles me. Why would I be so intrigued by an old abandoned building? Clearly it was abandoned, but it seems like such an odd place for it to be. The area was wooded, and it was so far removed from all the other older buildings on the grounds. I giggle as a thought comes to mind. Perhaps this Lord Dunmore had a mistress, and the house was their secret place. You read entirely too many romance novels, my subconscious quickly reminds me. Perhaps I do, but when Richard returns, I am going to ask him to investigate. I am sure he will find nothing, but at least he will put my mind at ease.
Not long after we have settled in with our tea, Richard and Winston return home.
“Anything?” I ask desperately.
By the look on Richard’s face, I know the answer before he shakes his head.
“Not yet. We went back to the solicitor, and he pretty much told us everything he already told me,” Winston says. He walks over to Georgianna, kisses her on the cheek, and says, “I am sorry, darling. We will find him.”
Georgianna nods.
“I swear we will scour the entire island until we find him,” Richard professes. He turns toward me. “I trust you stayed put today?”
I quickly look over at Georgianna. “Well…”
He looks angry. “My God, Elizabeth, what did you do?” Oh goodness, he is not happy.
“We just went for a walk. We stayed on the grounds. And look, we are home safe and sound.”
He turns toward Georgianna. “I thought you were going to keep her here?”
“Richard, we just went for a walk. Like Elizabeth said, we stayed on the grounds.”
With Richard being so angry, I decide I will not ask him about the building and wait for a better time when he is more agreeable.
“When I say stay put, I mean stay put!”
I swear I have never seen him this angry before.
Winston interjects. “Richard, I assure you that if the ladies remained on the property, they were perfectly safe. There is no reason for you to be upset or worry. As you can see, they are here and in one piece.”
“No more walks!” he demands. “What if Wickham saw you and took one of you as well? Do you think he does not know where Pemberley’s Paradise is? Because, trust me, I assure you he does. He knows we have arrived, and he knows we are looking for him. It is bad enough that Fitzwilliam is missing. I do not need to worry about either of you or, worse, both of you.”
“Oh. I did not think of that,” I reply, feeling rather ashamed I was so selfish.
“No, Elizabeth, you did not think. We cannot afford any mishaps.”
He is making me feel worse than I already do, but he is right. I should not have been so thoughtless. If something had happened to me—or worse, Georgianna—I would have never forgiven myself. I should have known Wickham was watching us. Of course he is. “I am sorry. We will stay inside the house from now on.”
“Thank you,” he replies and storms from the room.
I feel awful. Richard has been so wonderful through all this. He has never steered Fitzwilliam or myself wrong, and I should have listened to him.
Elizabeth
We have been on the island for two weeks and found not even a shred of a lead. My hopes are completely shattered. Richard and Winston have gone searching again today, along with all the men from the plantation. They all love Fitzwilliam and have pledged they will do everything they can to find him. I know he has not perished because I can still feel him, but what, after all this time, has Wickham done to him?
Georgianna and I have done as we were told and remained at the house. It is driving me mad, but I will not anger Richard anymore. I know this has been hard on him as well, so I will not add to his frustration. His determination is admirable, but there is part of me that feels we are wasting our time. Maybe Wickham, after the whole instance with Georgianna in town, decided to take Fitzwilliam back to England—or God knows were.
While waiting for the men to return, Georgianna and I decide to brainstorm, in case there is something we have missed. We have gone over every detail from the day Fitzwilliam disappeared up until the point when we arrived.
“Georgianna, the building!” I exclaim.
She looks at me curiously. “What?”
“Remember when we went on our walk and came across that abandoned building?”
“Lizzie, you are grasping at straws, love. What does that building have to do with Fitzwilliam?”
“I had a strange feeling when we came across it, as if I were drawn to it. I had planned to talk to Richard about it, but then he was so angry that we went out. I completely forgot about it.”
“Lizzie, again, I do not believe one has anything to do with the other.”
I shake my head. “I beg to differ. These feelings I get, they never lie. I am telling you, Georgianna, Fitzwilliam is in that building.”
“Oh my goodness, you are wishful thinking. Why would Wickham hold him up on his own property?” she asks confidently.
“Because, my dear sister, it would be the last place we would think to look for him.”
“Oh,” she replies, and I think she finally understands.
“He is there, Georgianna. I know it. I have not felt this strongly about something since the day I agreed to marry your brother.” I get up from my chair. “Come, we must go.”
She quickly gets up and grabs my arm. “Oh no, you are not going anywhere. We will wait until Winston and Richard return home, and we will tell them what we know. They will go investigate.”
I sit back down and pout. She is right. The last thing we need is me running off half-cocked, trying to save my husband. I look at the clock on the mantel. It’s half past three. It will be at least an hour or two before they return. I pick up my book and try to read. I have to do something to pass the time.
Reading is not working, so I literally spend the next hour watching the clock until they walk into the study. I thought they would never get home. Before they can even speak, I rush to Richard. “I know where he is!”
“Elizabeth, wait, what? How?”
“Oh, Richard, it is a long story, but he is here. He has been here right in front of our noses all along!”
“That is nonsense. If he were here, we would have found him.”
“Not exactly. Allow me to explain.” I spend the next several minutes telling Richard about the building and the feelings I could not shake.
He listens intently, and when I am done, he laughs.
Is he really laughing at me? How dare he?
Before he can utter a single word, I exclaim, “Colonel Fitzwilliam, you will go down to that building and check it out. If you do not, I swear to you I will go there myself and bring my husband home. Do you understand?” I am angry that he does not think my theory viable enough to even investigate.
“Elizabeth,” he says, patronizing me, which I am not liking. “As soon as we are finished with dinner, Winston and I will go, if not for anything but to show you how ridiculous you are being.”
Oh my word, if I were not a lady. How in the world did this man ever become a colonel? “Richard, you will go down there right now!”
He rolls his eyes and looks up at Winston.
“Actually, Richard,” Winston says. “I think she may be right.”
“Oh, not you too.”
“Just think about it. Pull your ego out of the picture and think about what she is saying. Not one of us thought to search the property. There are several outbuildings all over this land, and I am ashamed at myself for not thinking of it. I knew all those buildings existed, and not once did I think to search them.”
“Fine, we will go.”
I know he still does not believe me and thinks this is a waste of his time, but he will see. And then he will eat crow.
I walk up to Winston and lightly kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
He smiles. “Like I said, there are several outbuildings. Can you direct us to the correct one?”
“Why do I not go with you?” I ask.
Richard’s eyes go wide. “Absolutely not!”
I look at Winston warily, and he then turns toward Georgianna. “Can you help?”
“Yes,” she says and proceeds to direct them to the building in question. Once he is sure of the building, he kisses his wife and turns to leave.
Richard reluctantly follows behind him.
Once they are out of earshot, I rise from my seat and turn toward Georgianna. Before I can say a word, she says, “Oh, no you are not.”
“I am, sister, and you cannot stop me. You are welcome to join me, but I am going!” I rush from the room and wait at the door. I give the men a good five-minute head start before I leave. I ensure I maintain a good distance from them. It is a long walk. If I remember correctly, about an hour from the house.
After about a half hour, Richard stops walking, causing Winston to stop. Winston looks at him curiously when he says, “Elizabeth, I know you are there. Just walk with us.”
I sheepishly walk out from behind the bushes in which I am hiding. “You are not going inside, understand?”
I nod and we walk together.
It is dark by the time we get to the building, and it is clear someone is inside because we can see the candlelight through the window. “I told you,” I say proudly, and Richard rolls his eyes and gives me a sideways glance.
We are about twenty yards from the house, and he turns toward me and says in a stern whisper, “You stay put!”
I nod and then we hear it. Shouting. Two men.
“Shut your mouth, Darcy!” we hear, and my heart races. Oh, thank God! We have found him!
As the shouting continues, Richard and Winston approach—while I do as I am told—and together, they kick the door in.
Fitzwilliam
It has now been three weeks since the storm, two weeks since I have been holed up in this shack with George Wickham and his two goons. I sure hope he pays them well because they do all his grunt work, but where does he get the money? They are probably waiting for the payout when he gets my company. Speaking of which, he has not said a word about it. I wonder what the hold-up is now.
“Wickham, are we ever going to sign the papers and be done with this?” I ask.
He looks at me in disgust. “There has been a change of plans.”
“Oh, and when were you going to tell me this?” I ask.
“When I figured out a solution.” Something has happened, and he is definitely not as carefree as he was prior to the storm. He has remained with me here for the whole two weeks, sending his men out for food, which is where they are now.
He’s hiding. Why on earth did I not see it before? Why, that sniveling little snake…
“Who are you hiding from, Wickham?”
He glares at me because he knows I am on to him.
“Would you not like to know, Darcy?” He gets up from his chair and walks toward me, still tied and cuffed to a chair. I cannot tell you how degrading it is to have Wickham feed me, and I will not even mention what I have to go through when nature calls.
But I will not let him intimidate me. “Yes, I would.” I hesitate and then come at him with everything I got. “You’re hiding from someone, Wickham. It is as plain as the nose on your face. You are a coward. Who is it, George, someone you stole from in the past? Because you and I both know that is what you do best.”
It hits me. How on earth could I be so blind? It has been plenty of time. Why did I not see it? Elizabeth is here. I laugh.
“Shut your mouth, Darcy!” he yells.
I will not, for I know I am right. “Oh, George, you are so done now.”
“What are you talking about? You think you know. You do not know anything!” He is nervous and anxious. He knows it is all about to end.
“I will tell you what I know. Your biggest mistake was bringing me here. I lived here for eleven years, George, and more importantly, my sister lives here. Georgianna did see me the day we went to the solicitor’s office. That was your second big mistake, parading me through town without a care in the world. You were never very bright.”
He fumbles with the keys that jingle in his pocket.
“And now you are running scared because my cousin and my wife have arrived, and you know it will be just a short matter of time before they find me.”
“Oh, Darcy, you are so sure of yourself. They will never find you because this is the last place they will think to look for you.” He grins, and I want to slap the smug expression off his face.
“And where is that?”
Now he laughs too. “I am rather genius, if I have to say so myself.”
“Where are we, Wickham?” I demand an answer.
“Why, Darcy, we are at your home.”
My home? I wrack my brain and try to remember the property. Twenty-two years is a long time, but I cannot remember any shacks on my land. I do not respond, and he continues to laugh.
“There is much of your land that is not harvested—wooded, actually. The previous owner had several… What would you call them? Escapes, built on the land. I am sure you can imagine what they were used for, but since you bought the property, they have just become rundown shacks. Imagine my surprise when one evening I was watching our dear Georgianna picking flowers from the garden and I came across this one.”
I swear if I was not cuffed and tied, I would kill him with my bare hands.
Just then the door breaks forward, and in walk Richard and Winston. Wickham panics, and he pulls out a gun and waves it at them.
“Wickham!” Richard exclaims. “You are outnumbered. You might as well just surrender.” Richard takes a step toward him. “Now give me the gun.”
“No!” Wickham yells.
Richard jumps him, and the gun goes skating across the room while both he and Richard struggle on the floor. Winston joins in, and just as they get Wickham under control, a gunshot rattles the entire building.
I was so intent on watching the struggle, I have no idea where it came from until I look at where the gun went off. My beautiful wife is there, holding the smoking weapon, tears streaming down her face. I look back toward the men, and Wickham is lying on the floor with a gunshot wound to his chest.
“Lizzie!” I shout.
She stands unmoving, obviously in a state of shock by what she has done. Richard walks toward her and gently takes the gun from her hand, while Winston unties me. He rummages through Wickham’s pockets and finds the keys to the cuffs. I am finally free. I rush to my wife and pull her into my arms. She begins to sob uncontrollably as I hold her.
“There, there, my love. Everything is going to be all right,” I say, stroking her hair.
Through her sobs, she asks, “Is he dead?”
I look over at Wickham. “If he is not dead yet, he will be.”
Richard bends down and checks for a pulse. He looks up at me and nods. Wickham is dead. I know I should not rejoice in the death of another human being, but I cannot help but think the world is a better place without him.
“Darcy, why do you not take Elizabeth back to the house. I am sure you are most anxious to get out of here. Winston and I will take the garbage out.”
I nod and turn toward my wife. “Come, darling, let us go home.”
She continues to sob as we make our way back to the house. I am tired and weak, but the adrenaline of being rescued gives me the strength to push on toward home.
When we finally arrive home I am happy to see that Elizabeth’s tears have subsided. Elizabeth goes to open the door but it flies open and Georgianna is standing there to greet us. She flings herself into my arms. “Fitzwilliam!”
I squeeze her tightly.
“What happened? Are you all right? Is Winston all right? Richard? Where are they?” She asks question after question and does not even give me a chance to answer.
“Richard and Winston are fine and will be back shortly. I will tell you all everything then. Right now, Lizzie needs to lie down.”
She nods, and I proceed up the stairs with my wife. I pause halfway up the stairs and turn back toward my sister. “It sure is good to be home.”
She smiles, and I continue up the stairs.
Once we are in the privacy of our bedchamber, I lay Elizabeth on the bed. She has not spoken a word the entire walk back, and frankly I am a bit worried for her. Killing a man is not something one really considers doing, unless you are a raving lunatic.
She rolls on her side to look directly at me and says in almost a whisper, “I killed him.”
I will not lie to her, even though telling her she did not would probably make her feel better. “Yes, my love, you did.” I sit on the bed next to her.
And to my great surprise, she replies, “Good. I am glad he is dead.”
“Lizzie, you should not say such things.” I try to be the better man here, but even I am glad he is dead.
She wipes tears from her eyes. “You mean to tell me you are not?”
I chuckle. “I did not say that. Just that you should not say such things.” I smile. “I never said anything about not thinking such things.” I lie on the bed, and she snuggles up against me.
“I cannot believe you are home. Are you all right? Did he hurt you?” Her hands roam all over my body, looking for wounds.
“I am fine. He did not hurt me, other than keeping me away from you for so long.”
“We should probably go downstairs. We all have questions and want to hear what happened.”
“We will. Just let me have a few minutes alone with you. I believe I deserve it.”
She giggles and snuggles even closer. “I sure have missed you.”
“And I, you, my love.”
Elizabeth
Fitzwilliam and I remain in our bedchamber for about an hour. We just hold each other and revel in the silence and comfort of being in each other’s arms again. I swear I was doubtful we would ever have this again.
I look down at his body and see he is much thinner. I look up at his face and realize he is asleep. It did not dawn on me until now that he is probably exhausted. I cannot imagine being tied to that chair and being able to get any sleep. Although Wickham did not harm him physically, he obviously did not feed him enough or provide him any comfort.
I meant it when I said I was glad Wickham was dead. I am not sure how I feel about killing another human being, but if I look at it logically, in my opinion Wickham was subhuman. He preyed on the innocent for profit and Lord knows what else. Georgianna still stuffers today from his predatory ways. I decide I will not waste another thought on George Wickham. He is not worth it.
Fitzwilliam begins to stir.
“Shh, sleep, darling,” I whisper.
He wakes up. “No, I must go downstairs. Everyone is waiting.”
I protest. “We have waited this long. We can wait a little while longer. You need your rest.”
He sits up. “No, better to do it now and get it over with. Then I promise, after a good meal, I will rest.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
I nod as he gets up from the bed. I follow suit, and we make our way downstairs.
When we get to the parlor, Georgianna, Richard, and Winston are patiently waiting for us. Fitzwilliam looks over at Richard. “Everything taken care of?” he asks and Richard nods.
“Georgiana, can you arrange for some tea, please? I ask.
“I already have. It should be here momentarily.”
“Good,” I reply.
Fitzwilliam and I both take a seat, and he tells us everything from the beginning. He explains all of it. Some things we knew, but Wickham’s threats on Abigail and Georgianna we knew nothing about.
When he is finished, he says, “So there you have it, over six months of torment and hell that I would not wish upon anyone.” He stands and paces in front of us. “Which leads me to something else I want to tell you all.” He looks worried, and frankly, I do not like the tone in his voice. This is not going to be anything good. I can feel it. “When we get back to England, I am turning myself in.”
“No!” I cry.
He rushes to me. “Lizzie, I have to do this.”
“No, you do not! We just got you back. They will hang you, Fitzwilliam.” I shake my head. “No!”
Richard speaks up. “She does have a point, Darcy. Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I have spent the last six months of my life away from my family, and it has afforded me time to think. Because I kept my past hidden, I allowed it to be held over my head indefinitely. If I confess my past, no one will have power over me or my family ever again.” Everything he is saying makes sense, and my head accepts it wholeheartedly, but my heart will never accept it. He looks at me again. “It is the right thing to do, Lizzie. Lying about it goes against everything I believe in and stand for.” He kneels to better hold my attention. “In the end, the lie will destroy me.”
“I know,” I say as tears stream down my face. As much as I hate to admit it, I know he is right.
“Let us not talk about it any further.” He turns toward Winston. “Can you secure us passage home?”
“I will see what I can do. It may be a couple of weeks”
He nods. “Understood.”
Just then, Greta comes in and announces dinner.
After dinner, the men have brandy in Winston’s study while Georgianna and I visit in the parlor. She is playing the pianoforte, which calms me. She plays so beautifully. When the men join us, I can see Fitzwilliam is tired. I get up from my chair. “Perhaps we should retire,” I suggest.
He nods and turns toward the group. “If you will forgive us, Lizzie and I are going to retire for the evening.” Everyone bids us good-night, and we make our way upstairs.
“Lizzie, have you come to terms with everything?”
I am not really sure how to answer him. Part of me has, but the other part of me wants us to go back to the way things were. But he not only needs my support on this, he deserves it, so despite what my heart wants, I say, “Yes, I understand you need to do what is right. I stand behind you.” And I do, but it does not change the fact I wish he would not do this.
“Thank you. Your support in all this means the most.”
“May I ask one favor, please?”
“Of course, you know I cannot deny you anything.”
“Wait until after Abigail’s wedding.”
“Oh, that is right. I had forgotten. Of course I will wait. Our daughter deserves to have her father at her wedding. Not to mention, if word gets out, it may affect her marriage as she may become unsuitable. We definitely would not want that to happen.”
“How did you know?” I ask curiously. Her engagement happened after he had disappeared.
“Somehow, Wickham found out. He could not wait to rub it in my face.”
“Oh, darling, how he emotionally abused you. I am so sorry for all you went through.”
“Well, lucky for us, Wickham was never really very bright. He most definitely knew how to push my buttons, but he never intended to harm me physically. In all honesty, sometimes I think he stalled the signing over of the company because he had no clue what to do with me afterward. He did not want to kill me and knew that when he let me go, I would come after him with everything I had.” He scratches the beard on his face. “I truly believe he got more pleasure tormenting me than any money he could gain.”
“I really feel sad for him,” I say, and Fitzwilliam looks at me as if my face has gone green or something. “Well, I do.”
“May I ask why? Not so sure I want to know the answer…”
“Because obviously, Wickham was a lonely man. He never experienced true love, and I do not doubt his happiness only lasted as long as his pockets were full, which I am certain was not a long time. I could not imagine living a life as he did. It is sad.”
“Well, when you put it that way, I guess I can understand.”
“Enough talking. You look like you have not slept in days.”
“Try weeks. Little naps here and there were all I could afford. Right now, I believe I could sleep for a week.”
“Then you shall,” I say teasingly as he gets into bed. I snuggle up against him, and before I know it, we are both sound asleep. Thank you, God, for bringing him home to me.
Fitzwilliam
It has been one week since I was rescued. Winston and Richard have worked diligently on making arrangements for our return to England, and because of their efforts, we leave in two days. Lizzie and I have spent most of the time here together, going for long walks and talking about what will happen once I turn myself in. I know she is not happy with my decision but supports me nonetheless. She knows it is the right thing to do, and she knows me well enough to know I would not be able to live with myself any longer if I do not. I should have done it long ago.
I am waiting in the foyer on this beautiful fall morning for Lizzie to come down. We have taken a walk together every morning, and since we only have two days left, today will be our last one. Then we return for the hustle and bustle of Abigail’s wedding. When I see her at the top of the stairs, I cannot help the smile that forms across my face. She is as beautiful today, if not more, as she was thirty-three years ago when I met her. We have shared so many memories. Some better than others, of course. I chuckle as she makes her way down the staircase.
When she finally approaches me, she grins. “Are you laughing at me?”
“Of course not, darling,” I say as I bend down to kiss her cheek. “Just remembering some of our happy and not-so-happy moments together.”
She giggles. “We have definitely had our share of them, have we not?”
“Most definitely,” I say as we walk to the door.
Once we are outside and walking down the path, Lizzie stops. “Fitzwilliam, can we just stay here? We can send for the children. We do not have to return to England.” She sounds desperate, and I know why. She thinks that if we do not return to England, nothing will change, but she is wrong, and deep down she knows it. I will always be the man I am, and where I live will never change that. I have hidden behind my past for far too long now and am ashamed with myself I let it go for so long.
“Lizzie, you know we cannot.” I pull her in close. “First of all, there is Abigail’s wedding. Then, do you really want William to cross the sea without either of us with him?”
“We could send Jane and Bingley with him, or Richard can go back to get him.”
“You know that is not a viable option. You would be worried sick about him.”
“But you would not go to prison… or worse.” She shudders. “Oh, Fitzwilliam, I do not know what I will do if they hang you,” she cries.
“There, there, my love. Let us not worry about it now. We will cross that bridge when we have to and not a minute sooner.”
“I cannot stop thinking about it.” She wipes a tear from her cheek. “I have horrible nightmares.”
“You cannot worry yourself about things to come. Promise me you will try not to worry so much.”
She sniffles. “I promise.
“Now, can we enjoy our walk?”
She nods, and we begin walking again.
“Why do we not talk about something more pleasant?”
“Like?”
“Well, being held up with Wickham allowed me to the opportunity to think about things.”
“And that is pleasant?”
I give her a sideways glance. “Allow me to finish, please?”
She nods.
“So as I was saying, I spent a lot of time thinking about you, our past, and our family. And I realized, in all the years we have been together, one thing I did stands out and was never really corrected.”
She looks at me curiously. “Fitzwilliam?”
“You see, Lizzie, I cannot help but think of my first proposal to you. It was horrific, and everything about it went so wrong.”
“Oh, Fitzwilliam, you have long since made up for that.”
“No, I really haven’t. I never proposed to you the second time, not officially.”
“I believe it was quite mutual. No proposal was necessary.”
“You are wrong, Lizzie.” I hesitate and stop walking. She stops as I turn toward her. “In vain, I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you,” I say as I get down on one knee.
She laughs. “Oh no, we are not rehashing that horrible day.”
I take her hand and gaze up into her eyes. “Marry me, darling, and make me the happiest man in the world.”
“Fitzwilliam, we are already married.” She looks around to see if anyone is watching. “Now get up. You are being silly.”
“I assure you, madam, I am being perfectly sincere.” She looks at me in astonishment, just like before. However, this expression is also filled with love and admiration.
“Fitzwilliam?” she questions.
“Am I to have the honor of a reply?” I ask with a grin.
She takes a deep breath and says, “In such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiments avowed,” she says. If memory serves me correctly, this is the point in her response where she right out refused me. Of course, I know she will not. We are already married, but I still cannot help a twinge of fear that she will again.
She then smiles. “However, obligation has nothing to do with it. I love you, Fitzwilliam, and always will. I am proud to be your wife, and no matter what happens, I will remain proud to be your wife.”
Relief washes over me and I stand, pulling her into my arms. “How did I live so long without you?” I whisper in her ear.
“Lord only knows,” she replies with a giggle. We continue our walk and then out of the blue, Lizzie says, “I was so horrible to you.”
“And I not to you?” I question. “My darling, I basically told you I chose you against my better judgment. I said your family was an embarrassment. I completely insulted you in every way.”
“You did, but I could have been kinder.”
“And I could have been less insulting.”
She giggles again. “I guess we were both full of prideful airs and prejudiced assumptions.”
“Indeed we were.”
We walk on in a leisurely manner, and it pleases me to see she is no longer thinking about what will happen in England. I did all of this on purpose to get her mind occupied, and it is working.
“Fitzwilliam, you know I never asked you about Jane and Bingley?”
“What about them?” I am curious what brought them into our conversation, but I wait and allow her to explain.
“Well, not long after the horrible proposal, Mr. Bingley came back to Longbourn and proposed to Jane. We all believed we would never see him again and then just like that, he came back. Curious, is it not?”
“No, not curious at all.”
“No?” She stops and stands in front of me, stopping me as well. “Then my assumptions are correct? You did have something to do with it?”
“I did,” I say sheepishly.
She eagerly replies, “Tell me.”
We continue our walk. “After your refused me, I realized I had done an injustice to my friend. I did not know your sister was shy, and I truly believed she did not care for him. I wanted him to find love. After talking with you, I realized how devastated Jane had been by his departure and that indeed she truly did care for him. So after leaving Kent, I returned to London and made a confession to him.” I shake my head in shame. “One I should have made long before.” I rake my hand through my hair and say, “I told him everything, Lizzie: my feelings for you and your refusal. I explained that my interference in his affairs was absurd and impertinent. Most importantly, I told him I had been mistaken about your sister’s feelings toward him and that I believed she would welcome his attentions and thus make him very happy.”
“And he returned right away?”
“He did. The next day, I believe.”
“I always knew you had a hand in their reunion. Was he angry with you?”
“At first, but then not long after, I left. I did not give him the chance to show his anger. Once he and Jane were wed, I assume happiness dissipated his anger and resentment. And I was not around for him to be angry with. Now it is my turn,” I say. “When did you know you loved me? Was it on the ship or before?”
She glances over at me. “Honestly?”
“Yes. You know better,” I say teasingly.
“I cannot fix on the hour or the exact moment, but I truly believe that after I read your letter, I began to see you in a different light.” She stumbles with her words, and I think she is trying to hide something from me. “Oh bloody hell. Frankly, Fitzwilliam, I think I loved you all along. I was just too stubborn to admit it.”
There is my girl. “I knew it. I knew I could not be so off on my affections to not know when a woman had feelings for me.”
“You know, I swore I would never admit that to you.”
“But you did.”
“I did. You are my world, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and there is no reason I should ever hide any true feelings from you, past or present.”
“I feel the same way,” I reply, and we make our way back to the house.
Elizabeth
I have very much enjoyed the time Fitzwilliam and I have been able to spend together on the island, but alas, it is time to go home. All of our belongings have been taken to the ship, and we will be departing shortly. I look around the house. I so wish we could stay. But I know that is impossible for now. We have no idea what the future holds, and I have resigned myself to take each day as it comes. I will no longer spend my days worrying about what has not happened.
Once everything is in order, we bid Georgianna and Winston good-bye, thanking them for their hospitality and efforts to help find Fitzwilliam. I am not sad that George Wickham is dead, and frankly I have not felt remorse since that first day. Perhaps I should confess too, and both Fitzwilliam and I will go to jail.
We make our way to the ship, and I am surprised to see we are sailing on the Absolution. “Did you arrange this?” I ask Fitzwilliam as we step onto the ship.
“I did not, but it is a nice touch, do you not think so?”
“I do.”
The sailing back home is uneventful and the first time I have made the crossing without any storms or rough waters. One month later, we arrive in England. When the ship is docking and we are gathering the last of our belongings, I take Fitzwilliam aside and tell him I am going to confess to Wickham’s murder.
“Have you lost your mind, Lizzie? You will do no such thing!”
“But—”
He shakes his head. “No, I have already planned to tell them I killed Wickham.”
“But you did not.”
“Yes, but I would have, given the chance. They will take you away from the children. While Abigail is pretty much set for life, what do you think that will do to her marriage? And what about Will? And Thomas? Did you think about what it would do to him?” He shakes his head again. “Besides, Will needs his mother.”
“Sorry, I did not think about it all.”
He is angry with me as we make our way off the ship. When we arrive back at our London townhouse, Abigail and Will greet us happily at the door.
“You are home!” Abigail squeals as she gives us both a big, loving hug. Will follows suit, with a little less enthusiasm as his sister.
“Allow us to get into the door,” Fitzwilliam says, laughing and obviously happy to see his children.
We both agreed we would not tell the children Fitzwilliam’s plans until Abigail was wed and on her honeymoon tour. It will be better if we wait, and will not interfere with her happy day. She deserves to have both her parents attend her wedding.
We spend the rest of the afternoon answering all their questions about the island, only providing them information they needed to know. They never knew about George Wickham, so they do not even know the man existed or the horrible things he did. It is better left unsaid.
We return to Pemberley, and over the course of the next several months, plans are arranged for the wedding, which Fitzwilliam fondly refers to as the “wedding of the century.” While both Fitzwilliam and I had hoped for a small wedding, such is not the case when your daughter marries an up-and-coming duke.
There are so many things to get in order. First, Abigail must set a date, as that responsibility falls on the bride. Then there is the dress, the bridal party, the parson, flowers, breakfast reception, and so much more.
Once the date is finalized—June, of course—the invitations are ordered, engraved, and printed by a reputable printer in London. They are stunning. The wording is beautiful in a light script upon such fine white paper. In the center, upper half of the wedding card, the monogram of their initials, HD, intricately entwines together in a beautiful script. The same monogram is also printed on the flap of the envelope. The invitation is issued by Fitzwilliam and me, stating Mr. and Mrs. F. Darcy request your attendance on the occasion of the marriage of their daughter, Abigail, to the Marquess of Suffolk. It explains the ceremony takes place at Pemberley and accompanies two additional cards, which read: “The Duke and Duchess of Suffolk” and the other, “Abigail Darcy.” They are all proper and ready to be mailed together.
Today, we buy the dress. We have returned to London for a short visit for one purpose and one purpose only: the dress. After spending two days shopping, Abigail finally settles on one, and I believe it is perfect. The dress is white organdy with lace accents. It has a fitted bodice, small waist, and a full skirt. The veil is a beautiful lace that will attach to a coronet of orange blossoms. We also purchased short kid gloves in white, a hanky on which I will embroider her initials, silk stockings embroidered up the front, and flat shoes decorated with ribbons. The bridesmaids’ dresses are white muslin with a ribbon sash that matches their shoes. They will also wear white veils, falling from a coronet of roses to the hip. Abigail has asked her four young cousins to be the attendants. Two girls, who are Kitty’s granddaughters, and Mary’s two grandsons will hold her train.
Elton has already given Abigail the jewelry she will wear, diamonds and pearls of course. They are beautiful combination pieces that can be separated to be worn individually later. She will always cherish them as I have cherished mine.
Fitzwilliam and I have given Abigail an intricately designed comb for her hair, which was Fitzwilliam’s mother’s, as her something old. Georgianna received most of her mother’s things, but a few items were left for Fitzwilliam to give to his wife and daughter. This comb was one of them. Her dress is new. Her borrowed item is the Bennet family Bible for the readings. Her garter is blue, and of course, there’s a sixpence for her shoe. All the traditions have been accounted for.
The groom will be dressed in his frock coat, with a vest of black, dark-gray trousers, and a folded cravat in white. The ushers will wear their morning coats.
Abigail’s traveling dress is a soft grey. I love her wedding gown, but she looks so smart and stylish in her traveling dress.
We have spent months planning the day to the very last detail, and now, we are finally here. I made a point to wake early this morning. I wanted to get in my morning walk before all the hustle and bustle of the day. As I walk, I look up at the sky. There is not a cloud visible. It is going to be a beautiful summer day and absolutely perfect for our precious girl.
Fitzwilliam was still sleeping when I woke. Part of me wanted to wake him and have him walk with me, but I did not have the heart to disturb his sleep. Since he returned, he sleeps more than he did before. I guess the ability to sleep and nap when you choose can be taken for granted. You realize its value when the luxury is taken away.
I am truly enjoying the quiet of the morning, but I know it is getting late and I must head back to the house. There is much to do. When I arrive, I see Abigail’s carriage parked in the drive in front of the house. Two light-gray horses adorn the covered ensemble. Once inside, I am pleased to see the servants scurrying about, getting everything ready for the reception that will follow the ceremony.
The ceremony will take place at the chapel on the Pemberley grounds. Reverend Duncan will preside. He has known Abigail since she was a wee baby, and we all felt it was only fitting for him to perform the ceremony.
I make my way upstairs to get myself ready as well. When I get to our bedchamber, Fitzwilliam is ready and dressed. He looks so handsome in his frock coat and folded cravat. I do believe it is the same ensemble he wore the day we got married. “Look at you, all dressed and ready.”
He smiles. “Of course, it is Abigail’s day, and I want to look my best when I give my daughter away.” He suddenly looks sad, and I know why. So many things will change with this wedding.
I walk to him and pull him into my arms. “You could look like a pauper, my love, and still look handsome. For it is not how you look on the outside, but the man you are inside. You have been an amazing father to our children and a husband I would not trade for the world.”
“How do you do that?” he asks.
“What?”
He leans in and kisses my cheek. “You always know exactly what to say to make me feel better.” He hugs me again. “So many changes await us.”
I step back. “Have you changed your mind?” I ask, hopeful.
He shakes his head. “No, I have not. Tomorrow I go to the magistrate.”
I nod and turn toward my dressing room. Tears well in my eyes, and I do not want him to see me cry. Getting my composure, I walk away and say, “Well, I shall start to get myself ready. See you downstairs?”
He comes up behind me, and I stop walking. He kisses me on the neck. “I know this is hard for you, my love,” he whispers in my ear. “I love you. I always will. But I must tell you, I love you even more for standing with me on this.”
I nod and walk toward my dressing room, ensuring I hide my tears from him. I close the door behind me.
Fitzwilliam
When Abigail appears at the top of the staircase, I cannot help the smile that comes across my face. My beautiful daughter will soon marry a man she truly loves—and a duke nonetheless. I could not have hoped for anything better for her. I will probably miss all this for Will, but I know that Lizzie, Richard, and our entire family will make it special for him.
Abigail makes her way down the stairs, and I wait at the bottom as she approaches, holding my arm out for her. Many of the servants have left for the church. Only a handful of junior servants remain, who all stop and adore my daughter. A prouder man there never was, than I am at this moment.
We make our way to the carriage, where my beautiful wife is waiting, and within seconds, we are off to the church. Many of the tenants wait by the side of the road to watch as we drive by, all chanting wishes of a happy marriage. When we arrive at the church, everyone is already inside.
The carriage stops and I exit, then help my wife step down. Abigail waits until she gets word from me that everyone is in their place. When Lizzie and I get inside, we see the bridal party gathered in the vestibule. The best man spots me and nods. I return the nod, and he knows it is time.
Ushers advance up the center aisle, with the best man first, accompanied by the first bridesmaid. The others follow in suit until it is just Elton, Lizzie, and me in the vestibule. Elton takes Lizzie’s arm and then proceed up the aisle. I step outside to fetch Abigail and help her from the carriage.
“Are you ready for this?” I ask her as she takes me arm.
“Oh, Father, I am. I do not think I have ever been this happy.”
I take a step, and she follows suit. “That is all I need to hear. Your happiness is one of the most important things to me.” We walk in silence into the nave. There are flowers everywhere, and the church looks absolutely beautiful. The harpist is playing a beautiful tune as my daughter and I make our way down the aisle toward her future husband. Once I give her away, I turn and take my seat next to Lizzie.
Placing her hand in mine, I whisper, “I love you, darling.”
She looks up at me and smiles as the reverend begins.
The ceremony is short but charming and is over in the blink of an eye. All this planning, organizing, and scheduling merely for a few minutes. It totally baffles me, but it is, after all, a special day. The couple walks to the parish register, and they sign their names. When they are done, they turn back toward the aisle and make their way back down. Elizabeth and I follow, and when we get outside, the carriage Abigail and I arrived in is gone. There now stands an enclosed one, which is much bigger with four white horses at its head. The doors are adorned with the Duke of Suffolk’s family crest. More carriages arrive and take Elizabeth and me, Elton’s parents, and the bridal party back to Pemberley. The best man remains at the church to settle with the reverend.
Within twenty minutes, we arrive back at Pemberley, and the groomsman line up to receive their favors from Abigail. She prepared favors of white ribbon, flowers, lace, and silver leaves, and she pins them to each groomsman’s shoulder.
The gifts that have been arriving for the last few weeks are opened and displayed in the ballroom. One thing I did not realize, which Lizzie corrected me on when we got married, is all the presents are for the bride, never the groom. I thought she was jesting, but it is true. She said the bride receives the gifts because the groom gets his bride as his.
Lizzie and I greet the bride and groom, followed by Elton’s parents. The remainder of the guests follow, wishing them much happiness. Colborne announces breakfast is served, and after each guest passes along their well wishes, they make their way into the dining room. We only invited a handful of guests to breakfast as we wanted to keep this portion of the wedding more intimate. In the dining room, there is only one table, which is for the bridal party. Everyone else stands as they eat.
About an hour or so later, the cake is cut—or I should say one of the cakes is cut. There are three: one large cake and two smaller ones. When the cake is cut, it is boxed and given to the guests. A charm is placed within each piece of cake, either a ring to signify marriage within a year, a penny signifying wealth, a thimble signifying old maid or bachelor, and a button for sweethearts forlorn. Personally, I think it is all nonsense, but my wife and Abigail insist they were a necessity.
Once the cake is served and the guests depart, only immediate family remains. Abigail and Elton make their departure for their honeymoon. As I watch her depart from Pemberley, I am reminded I may never see her again, but I must do the right thing and follow through with my plan and bear the consequences, whatever they may be.
Fitzwilliam
By the next morning, everything has been cleaned from the wedding. I am to go to the magistrate’s office today. Elizabeth wants to come with me, but I refused to allow her to go. She needs to be home with Will when Richard, who is going with me, brings her the bad news. We have no reason to hope it will be good news, so we all are expecting the worst.
We are ready to leave, and I take one last look at my beloved home. I sure will miss this place, but I will miss my wife and children more.
My heart is breaking as I give my wife one last kiss good-bye and walk out the door. I cannot bear her tears, and I refuse to look back as the carriage moves forward.
An hour later, we arrive at the county magistrate’s. He is expecting us but has no idea why we made the appointment. We make our way inside and are seated on the other side of Magistrate Garrett Hutchinson’s desk.
“So, Darcy, what constitutes the honor of your visit this morning?”
I stand, “I need to make a confession.”
“Oh goodness, Darcy, what in heaven’s name would you need to confess?”
I tell him everything, starting twenty-two years ago. I explain why I left England and became a thief, the foundation, and the reason for my return. I go into further detail, giving him documented evidence of the money that was recovered and where it went, showing none of it was for personal gain. I am hopeful it will earn me merits. Then I add the most recent happenings involving Wickham. Everything I tell him is the truth, except for one thing. I do not tell him Elizabeth killed Wickham. I tell him it was me who fired the fatal shot. After an hour of talking, I finish, and Hutchinson looks at me in disbelief.
“So there you have it. The whole sordid tale.”
“And how do you expect me to react to this?” he asks.
I have to say I am surprised; it is not what I expected him to say. “I expect you to do the right thing and turn me in. As I understand, there is a hefty bounty on my head.”
He laughs. It is not just a chuckle but a full, bellied laugh. I lean toward Richard and ask in a whisper, “What do you make of this?”
He shrugs.
When he finally regains his composure, Hutchinson turns toward Richard and asks, “And you can verify all he has told me?”
“I can, as I was the one who acquired the ship.”
He grins. “Of course you did.” He turns back toward me and says, “Well, Darcy, I must tell you that your visit here today has come as a great surprise to me, but I believe I have an even bigger surprise for you.” He smiles. He is thoroughly enjoying this, and, in a way, it angers me. Does my misfortune make him happy?
I look at him curiously. “Oh?”
“As you both know, even after the Treaty of Amiens in 1802, Britain was again at war with France in 1803 and continued until the battle of Waterloo in 1815. It was a trying time for our country, and for a while, we were not sure we would be able to maintain the Britain we all knew. The war required the resumption of a mass enlistment, as fears of a Napoleonic invasion would occur. Napoleon made it perfectly clear of his intentions to invade Britain. When he massed his huge ‘Army of England’ on the shores of Calais, he posed a visible threat to southern England.”
“We know this already,” Richard says.
Hutchinson nods. “Bear with me. Please.” He stands from his chair and paces the area behind his desk. “A few months before the Battle of Waterloo, we caught a lucky break and captured one of Napoleon’s top men. After weeks of detainment, we were finally able to break him, which is when we discovered we had a traitor in our troops who had been helping the French.”
He leans against the front of his desk and continues. “Once we had this information, we knew we had a fighting chance. That French prisoner was named George Wickham.” Hutchinson goes into great detail about how Wickham and Napoleon had an agreement that promised him more money than he could ever imagine.”
“I cannot even begin to fathom this,” I say in disbelief. “Wickham was an opportunist, but I never thought he would be able to get to the French emperor.”
“I really do not know how he got to him. I just know of his crimes. He has been wanted all this time, with an even higher bounty on his head than your own. It was discovered he was selling arms to the French militia, not to mention some vital military secrets. The British government has been looking for him ever since.”
“I do not believe any of this,” Richard says, interrupting. “I would have been privy to such news.”
“Yes, you would have, had you not had a personal relationship with George Wickham. The militia knew you and Darcy grew up with Wickham, and it was agreed by all those involved to keep you both in the dark to his antics.”
“And how do you know about it?” I ask.
“Well, at the time, my father was the magistrate in this county. He was informed because Wickham’s family’s connections remained here. Although you may hate to admit it, Darcy, you were Wickham’s only living family. While you are not blood, your father always thought of his father as family and always treated them as such.”
I nod. “He did.”
Hutchinson continues. “When my father retired and I took over, he of course discussed with me all the outstanding cases that remained in this office, Wickham’s being one of them.”
I sit down. “So what is it your saying?”
“I am saying, Mr. Darcy, that you will be rewarded for your services to the Crown.”
“What?” I swear I heard every word he said, but I cannot believe it.
“I will need to contact the authorities in London, but you will be returning home, Darcy. You will not be going to jail, nor will you have to worry about standing trial for anything you have told me today.” He straightens and reaches his hand out for me to shake. I shake his hand, and he says, “Thank you for taking care of Wickham. He has been a thorn in the side of this country ever since he left Pemberley. His war crimes are not the only crimes he has committed. The world is a much better place without him. He was a menace to society.”
I look at my cousin. “Can what he is saying be true?” I still cannot believe any of this.
He shrugs. “Like he said, I was not made privy to any of this. But why would he tell you this if it were not true?” Well, he does have a point.
“I assure you, Darcy, it is all true,” Hutchinson says.
“So I am free to go?”
“Not quite yet.”
I frown. I knew there had to be a catch.
He laughs. “You are free to go. We just need you to sign a statement.” He looks over at the secretary seated in the corner. “Mrs. Smith, are you almost finished?” he asks.
She stands. “Yes, sir,” she replies and hands him the papers.
He turns and hands them to me, and I begin to read.
“If everything is true and accurate, then all you have to do is sign the paper, Darcy, and you will be free to go.”
Once I read the testimony, I sign it with pleasure. This is not how I expected this visit to end.
I did not change the testimony about Wickham. In the event something changes with all this, I still do not want Elizabeth to be involved. I shrug as I hand the paper back to Hutchinson. “I really did not expect this outcome, but I have to say, I am not complaining.”
We bid Hutchinson farewell and make our way to leave. As we are walking out the door, Hutchinson calls out to stop me. “Darcy,” he says. “Do not worry. This will soon all go away.”
I nod. “Thank you, Hutchinson.”
Once inside our carriage, I look at Richard. “Did that all just happen and I am I really going home?”
He laughs. “Indeed you are.” He smiles. “Elizabeth is going to be so pleased.”
“Indeed,” I say, smiling. I have just gotten another chance at life. The dark cloud is no longer hanging over me, and I will be able to live my life to the fullest with my beautiful wife and family. Lord willing, I will get to see my grandchildren and Will married. Life just does not get better than this.
When we arrive home, Richard and I depart the carriage and walk into the house. Mrs. Reynolds greets us at the door.
“Welcome home, Mr. Darcy.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds. Can you direct me to where my wife may be?”
“After you left, Mrs. Darcy was not feeling well. I insisted she go lie down.” We did not inform the staff of my plans, so none of them knew there was a possibility that I may not return. I am sure Mrs. Reynolds thought Lizzie ill, but obviously, I know better.
“Richard, please make yourself comfortable, and do please stay for dinner. I am sure Lizzie would love to have you.” I turn toward Mrs. Reynolds. “Will you please inform Mrs. Sims the colonel will be staying?”
“Of course, sir.” She smiles at Richard and turns to leave.
“I am going to go see my wife and give her the happy news.”
Richard laughs as I literally run up the stairs.
When I get to her bedchamber, I knock on the door.
No response. I knock again. Quietly, I ask, “Lizzie?”
Still nothing. She must be asleep. I open the door and am surprised to see she is not there. I make my way through the adjoining dressing room but find she is not there either. Continuing to my bedchamber, the room where we usually sleep together, I am pleased to find her there, sound asleep. I walk to the side of the bed that is vacant and lie next to her. I pull her sleeping body close to me and hold her in a warm embrace. This right here is what coming home is all about. “Oh, Lizzie,” I whisper, and she begins to stir.
“Fitzwilliam?” she asks groggily.
“Yes, my love.”
She stirs some more, and when she is fully awake, her eyes open and stare into mine. “I must be dreaming.”
I smile. “No, my darling, you are not dreaming. I am home and home I shall stay.”
She sits up. “What? What happened? Did you change your mind?”
“No, I told Hutchinson everything.”
“But then why are you home? I thought…” Her words trail.
“Well, it so happens that our dear George Wickham was wanted for treason. His death not only set me free mentally, but literally. I am being honored for services to the Crown.”
“I do not believe it,” Lizzie cries as tears leak down her cheeks. They are the best tears I have seen in months. She does not know that since my return, I have caught her crying on several occasions. She did her best to hide it from me, but I knew. It is pure joy to see her happy tears and the relief in her eyes.
Fitzwilliam
This past year has been a whirlwind to say the least—first with Abigail’s coming out, the letters, the kidnapping, and finally the wedding. I am a free man; my past can never come back to haunt me. At one point when Abigail and Elton were visiting, Lizzie and I decided to tell them everything. Abigail was horrified and amazed we endured all of it without them ever knowing. Will was in awe of me and quite proud of his mother’s pirate days. Elton, of course, takes it all in stride, and I am sure he is glad the truth was never made public.
When 1848 rolls in, Elizabeth and I make the decision to go back to the island for good. Will, who is eighteen years of age, does not want to stay in England and chooses to join us. He wants to learn the trading business and take over Calico. By the time he is old enough, Georgianna and Winston can retire and can choose to either stay in Nassau or return to England. I could not be prouder to pass on a business that I love so much to my son.
Lizzie once told me to remember the past, as it gives you pleasure. She is right. I no longer fear my past. I relish in it. It brought me the life I have now, and I would not change a thing.
The End
Don’t Forget…
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As always, I would like to thank my friends and family. Without their support, I never would’ve had the courage and the vision to become a writer.
I would like to thank my husband, Kevin. You’ve never doubted me or my abilities. All that I am, you let me be. I promised you I would write that pirate book, and now there are two. This storyline was your idea, baby. You are the little voice in my head that is always encouraging me to step out of my comfort zone. I love you to the moon and back!
Also, I would like to thank the members of my street team, Amy's Amazing Street Girls. You ladies rock my world, and I am so honored to have you all on my side.
I would also like to thank Alicia Freeman and Monica Diane. Your PR abilities are amazing, and I couldn’t ask for two better personal assistants. You ladies work so hard and are always ready to take care of anything I need. I could not be more grateful for all you do for me.
I would like to thank my BETA readers, Maureen Goodwin, Stephanie Nix, Ann Lopez, and Nancy George. You ladies are the first to see a finished manuscript, and your insight and suggestions are invaluable. Thank you.
I would like to thank Rebecca Weeks Garcia for her absolutely fantastic cover designs and formatting. You are one talented lady, and I am so lucky to have you as my designer.
And finally, I would like to thank Angie Wade of Novel Nurse Editing for her comprehensive editing of my manuscripts. Your comments, suggestions, and humor not only make me a better writer, you also make the editing process a pleasant experience.
I am blessed to have such a talented team of individuals behind me, and I realize that without any of you, I could not do what I do.
Amy Cecil is a best-selling and award-winning indie author of both historical and contemporary romance. Her penchant for Austen fan fiction won her the title of Favorite Historical Romance Author (2016-2017), while her MC series has won several awards throughout the indie community. Recently, she has expanded her repertoire to the thriller and erotic genres.
For as long as she can remember, Amy always had a book (or two) that she was reading for the love of getting lost within its pages. Amy has been heard to have said, "I've never given much thought to becoming a writer myself until I realized that if I hadn't written my own version of Mr. Darcy, I might have run
out of material to read."
And thus, her first novel was born, A Royal Disposition. In the words of Miss Austen herself, "I wish as well as everybody else to be perfectly happy; but, like everybody else, it must be in my
own way." Mrs. Cecil writes to do just that.
She lives in North Carolina with her husband, Kevin, and their four dogs. When she isn't creating her next masterpiece or traveling the country for book signings, she enjoys spending time with her husband, friends, and, of course, her fur babies.
"Face life as you find it—defiantly and unafraid." -Nietzsche
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Austen, Jane, 1775-1817. Pride And Prejudice: a Novel. In Three Volumes: London: Printed for T. Egerton, Military Library, Whitehall, 1813.