Chapter Nine

 

 

…A promise is yet to be fulfilled…

 

The day dawned cold and miserable with a biting wind coming down off the mountain and settling into the plateau. Having driven down to the farm the night before for the Thanksgiving holiday, Darcy and Bingley were up at the crack of dawn, preparing for the morning’s shooting party with Elizabeth’s uncles. Darcy had been looking forward to this all week as they were going to shoot wild turkey, Canadian geese, and Mallard ducks. Pulling on his boots and donning his camouflage jacket, he was more than prepared to meet the challenging elements when Henry peered around the corner into the mudroom.

“Fitzwilliam, let’s get a move on. Charles and Robert are waitin’ on us. I’d like to get at least two turkeys. A couple of geese would be nice, too, and perhaps two ducks.”

Darcy cast a wide grin. “I’d like that, too. Let me grab the shotgun and several boxes of shells, and I’ll be right out.”

Exiting through the back door and stepping out into the garden, he met up with the others where Henry made the introduction to Elizabeth’s father’s brother of whom he’d heard so much about. Robert Bennett, a tall, lean man in his mid-forties with clear blue eyes and sandy blonde hair, had just arrived for the morning’s event. Darcy could see the family resemblance. He looked very much like the picture of Elizabeth’s father that hung in the family gallery.

Grabbing the offered hand, Bennett had a hardy handshake and a firm grip. “Darcy, I’m pleased to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you that I feel as if we’re already friends, especially since you’re soon to be family. Congratulations on your upcoming marriage to one of my favorite nieces.” The man flashed a wide grin.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Bennett,” Darcy replied with a smile.

“Darcy, we’re to be family, so there’s none of that Mr. Bennett stuff,” Bennett insisted. “Like I told Charles here, it’s either Robert or Bennett, but emphatically not Mr. Bennett. That’s reserved for my secretary and the office staff.” He let out a hardy laugh. “Now, let’s get goin’, or those turkeys will leave for higher ground. They’re in the rye fields now, but they’ll quickly move if they sense us comin’. These are wild turkeys—not those domestic birds with undersized brains. They’re smart and cunning, so we’ll have to be one up on ‘em.”

“Bennett, you’ll do splendid for an uncle. I already sense camaraderie. Are these your dogs?” Darcy asked, gazing at the two black labs poised at Bennett’s heels.

“Yeah,” he answered with a lilting laughter. “That’s Ruff and Ready, and they are just that—rough and ready, two of the best retrievin’ dogs in the county. They’ll pick up anything we shoot,” he said, rubbing the male dog behind the ears. “Let’s head out.” Glancing at the sky, he added, “It looks like snow, so we’d better get a move on.”

Darcy and Bingley exchanged grins. They both knew this was going to be a quite an adventure. Turning up their collars and pulling their fur-lined hunting hats down over their ears, the four braced against the cold as they moved in the direction of the winter rye fields where, just as Robert had predicted, a flock of wild turkeys took to the air. Not just any turkeys, either. They were some of the biggest, plumpest birds Darcy had ever seen. All four men fired at once and four birds fell. Ruff and Ready sprang into action, and Robert gingerly snatched the retrieved birds, placing them in the burlap sack.

After the rye fields, they left for the cow pond, which Darcy thought more resembled a small lake than a pond, but then, no, it had to be a pond with all of the cattails and marsh reeds springing forth out of the water. As they approached, a flock of ducks and geese flew up. Once again the boom of shots rang out, and two geese and four ducks fell. At the sound of the first shot, Ruff and Ready were in the water, paddling out to the center of the pond, bringing the birds back one at a time. Their bags full, the men walked back to the house, declaring the trip a success. Tomorrow there would be turkey and a goose on the table to complement the ham from this year’s spring pigs.

With the hunt behind them, Darcy looked forward to spending time with Elizabeth. As they approached the house, Robert called out, “Darcy, Henry and I’ll clean these birds, and when Daniel gets up, he can help. You and Charles are guests, and I suppose you want to spend every spare minute you can with my nieces, so y’all head out to wherever you wanna go. Tana and the others will take care of the cookin’. We’ll be fine.” Robert shot him a smile that indicated he understood what it was like to be in love and to want to be alone at every chance.

“Thanks, Bennett. I believe we’ll ride out after breakfast.” Gazing upward, Darcy said, “You may be right. It looks like rain or snow, so this may be the only chance we’ll have.”

“Well, there’s always the barn loft, but you didn’t hear that from me. You either, Bingley.” He tossed a look over his shoulder to Charles, who was bringing up the rear. “Tana would kill me, but truth be known, we spent quite a few hours there ourselves when we were datin’.” He winked.

Darcy laughed aloud. “Bennett, now I know I like you.”

“I quite agree with Darcy,” Bingley added.

“Well, I suppose a young college professor’s not much different from a young lawyer, and as long as your intentions are honorable, I see no harm with stealing away whenever you can. Besides, it’ll give you somethin’ to look back on when you’re middle-aged like me. Now go on…and remember, you didn’t hear it from me.” He winked.

All three laughed.

After the birds and guns were deposited in the mudroom, Darcy went to find Elizabeth. Searching the various rooms, he finally found her ensconced in the library, drawn up in the bench seat of the bay window with a book.

“What are you reading, darling?”

“Hmm? This?” she replied, marking her page as she closed the book. “It’s Sarah Morgan’s journal, The Civil War Diary of a Southern Woman. It’s an account of what it was like to have been sixteen when The War Between the States began. Sarah lived on a sugar plantation in Louisiana. I’ve almost finished it.”

“Is it good?”

“Yes, I’d say it is. It’s informative, but not very much different from what it was like around here from 1861 through Reconstruction. It reinforces what I already know. The sorrow and misery was everywhere. I’m nearly to the part where she marries her handsome beau and moves to Charleston,” she said with a grin. “She was a girl much like me. It’s a history that’s heartfelt and heart-shared as she reveals what they suffered. I’ll tell you about it sometime,” she said, setting the book aside. “Let’s have some coffee and scones, and then we’ll go for a ride.”

“Handsome beau, huh….” He smiled.

“Yes,” she said, returning his smile. “Now help me up, and let’s go. Oh, and by the way, I have a handsome beau, too.”

He reached out his hand, taking hers as they walked hand in hand to the kitchen.

Once they’d finished eating, they saddled up and headed in the direction of the cove. The temperature had dropped and was still falling when they made it to the cabin. Elizabeth was chilled to the bone and shivering, so Darcy started a blazing fire in the fireplace.

“Come here, love. You’re cold. I’ll hold you and warm you up.”

“Fitzwilliam, it may not have been such a good idea coming out here. With the way the temperature has dropped, it could possibly mean snow. The weather forecaster is not always right when he calls for rain. Occasionally they miss it.”

“Well, if it does, we’ll live with it. But for right now, let’s get you warmed up. Your cheeks are chapped and your hands are frozen.”

As the fire burned bright and cozy, he held her close while they sat on the bed. Unable to resist, she pulled him to her for an innocent kiss, but when their lips touched, she lost all conscious thought. As the kiss deepened, he began to caress her, stroking her arms and sides, and then her breasts, gently massaging them through her soft flannel shirt.

Caught up in the moment, she fell backwards onto the bed without breaking their kiss, taking him with her. Soon he was lying with her in an intimate embrace, kissing, touching, caressing, and stroking her inner thigh ever so gently. Elizabeth knew they should stop, and yet she didn’t want to. The more Fitzwilliam kissed her, the more he touched her, the more she burned with an insatiable ache.

His fingers hovered at her neckline for a moment, and then he gently began to unbutton her shirt. Pushing the flannel aside, he freed one breast from her bra and cupped her flesh as he palmed it. The feel of his cool hands against her hot skin sent pleasurable sensations coursing through her body, pooling in a hot desire she’d never expected to experience. Pulling him on top of her, she instinctively parted her legs, allowing him to settle between them. Fitzwilliam arched against her, and soon they writhed against one another. Elizabeth had never felt such desire…such need. She wanted him and she wondered if she could wait until her wedding night, or if she even cared.

Fitzwilliam felt the strain on his self-control snapping as her soft body pressed against his. His mind and body conflicted with one another. His body wanted her now, but his mind was determined to respect her wishes. Lying there together, reality finally slipped back into play, and he abruptly pulled away.

“Elizabeth, we shouldn’t be here like this. If we continue, we won’t be able to stop, and I know that is not what you want.” His heart pounded as his pulse raced in time with his throbbing body. It would have to be her call, not his, no matter what the cost to him. Releasing a long breath, his control held firm even as his body ached in pain.

“I know, Fitzwilliam…I know. It’s just that I have never felt this way before. It’s all so new to me. I love you, and I want you…but…” She looked down and then cut her eyes over to the corner of the room. Chewing on her lower lip, she said nothing.

He looked at her with longing, his eyes searching, waiting to see how she would respond, and waiting for her to ask. He had told her he would not take anything from her unless she freely gave it. He wondered if she realized how much he needed her, how much he wanted her.

He waited, but she never asked. Releasing a tightly-held breath, he figured it was best if they left temptation behind. “Come Liz, we need to go.” He pulled her up and buttoned her blouse, straightening their appearance before extinguishing the fire in the fireplace as well as the one in his soul.

 

The following day was Thanksgiving, and the house hummed with the hustle and bustle of the day’s preparations. The smell of delicious food cooking permeated the air. Casseroles already baked, cornbread dressing and mashed potatoes and gravy sat on the side table while field peas and corn on the cob simmered on the stove. A goose was in one oven and a turkey in the other. Cooked ham cooled on the counter, and pies, cakes, and bread, baked fresh earlier that morning, filled the baker’s rack. The table was spread with a white damask cloth and set in Old Country Rose china. Cranberry relish and spiced blueberries lay about the table in crystal dishes, and goblets filled with iced tea were alongside each person’s place.

A soft chuckle emanated from Darcy’s throat. This was nothing like a formal dinner at his house, where servants took care of these seemingly meaningless tasks. Seemingly meaningless, and yet not.

The difference was that this house was filled with love, while his house was filled with order and careful routine. How he almost envied Elizabeth and her family. They were the picture of family life he’d often dreamt of—the American Norman Rockwell, and God help him, he loved her for every bit of it. This, his first Thanksgiving with the Bennetts, would be a day for him to remember. Not since his mother’s death could he recall a better one. With the ladies scurrying about, neatly placing dishes on the table, the feast was about to begin.

The tinkling of Henry’s fork against his tea glass called the family together as they all took their seats around the table. Except for Mary Beth and Joseph, they were all here—Robert and Tana, Jane, Elizabeth, Kat, Daniel, Grace, Henry and Lori, and he and Charles.

Clearing his throat, Henry began. “Let us give thanks for this bountiful meal before us. As you know, most of it has come from the farm this year, even the turkey and goose, which Charles and Fitzwilliam helped to provide,” Henry said with a twinkle in his eye. “Yes, we have much to be thankful for. The crops were better than expected, the cattle bred well with no problems, aside from the coyotes that is. But the best news of all is that there are to be two new additions in our family circle. Jane and Charles… Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam, congratulations! Now Jane, would you give thanks?”

Linked together, holding hands, Jane returned thanks for all the blessings bestowed upon the family as another year had come and gone. When she finished, they all said in unison, “Amen.”

Robert broke out in a big smile. “Now let’s eat. Pass the food!”

 

~*~

 

The next day proved to be tedious. A steady downpour of rain mixed with sleet and snow had fallen all day, leaving everyone confined to the house. Jane and Charles spent the day in the upstairs sitting room watching movies while Fitzwilliam spent the day with Elizabeth in the library reading.

Poring over a volume of Gibeon’s The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire, Darcy’s mind was anywhere but on Gibeon. Thursday had been much like today, wet and dreary. There had been ample opportunity for them to be alone, but he had steadfastly resisted it. After what had happened, or nearly happened, in the cabin two days ago, he was afraid to be alone with Elizabeth because, unlike her, he knew what those feelings…those stirrings were. He also knew that with very little effort, he could take her virginity, and in fact, almost had. It had taken a sheer force of will to break away, and next time, he might not be able to do so.

She was an innocent. He was not, but he wasn’t the player his brother was, either. He wouldn’t take her. They would wait. There would be no more passionate kissing, no more caresses, and no more close embraces, no matter how badly he wanted it. No, he told himself, he would sequester his emotions, keeping them under lock and key—under tight regulation until their wedding night. He sighed as he watched her engrossed in her tome of Chaucer. It would be difficult, but he could do it. Yes, he was a man of principle, and he would remain firm. Returning his thoughts to his book, he heard her sigh. He smiled and turned the page.

As Elizabeth attempted for the third time to concentrate on her book, the veil of her lashes hid her eyes as they once again cut across the room to Darcy. He seemed deep in thought, probably engrossed in his book, as she should be. Still, she couldn’t help but think of the cabin and what had almost happened as the memory of two days ago flashed inside her mind. She’d come within a hair’s breadth of letting him have her. If he hadn’t stopped, she wouldn’t have resisted him. But he had stopped, letting the dog sleep at her doorstep, leaving the decision up to her. It was obvious he would not take the initiative unless she gave him leave to do so.

She softly sighed… I’m acting more like a teenager than a grown woman. This is ridiculous. We’re engaged, for Pete’s sake! Will we be able to continue on like this until June? Will he? Will I?

Once again her eyes drifted in Darcy’s direction. He’d just turned the page and smiled. I’d best return to my book, she thought. She smiled and turned her page.

Darcy set his book aside and looked up. “Elizabeth, do you think I might have a look at your family journals,” he asked, “and could we have some wine?”

“Sure, I’ll get some.” Pouring two glasses, she handed one to him, then walked over to the bookcase and pulled the first volume from the shelf in the family history section.

Taking the volume from her hands, he reverently brushed over the soft leather cover with his fingers before opening the book to the first page. Taking a deep breath, he began to read out loud as they sipped their wine.

 

25 September 1789

 

As I sit in the Carriage Inn, I pen this entry. Today, I went to the White House to collect Rebecca Jane to become my wife. She is now several months with child. Though she protests, I will marry her. It is no fault of her own that she resides with Madam Kinsley, but rather due to our cruel rules of society. She was in tears when I proposed, wondering why I would take her, a poor prostitute with no money, to be my wife. She is convinced that, had we met when she was under different circumstances, I would not have sought her out, being that she was then a poor dowerless girl, but she could not be more wrong, for I have loved her from our first acquaintance. I have no doubt I would have loved her then, had I found her before misfortune did.

I paid Madam Kinsley three hundred pounds for Rebecca’s freedom, and then we were off to Gretna Green. Father has disowned me, but I, as a gentleman, could allow neither my child nor the woman I love to suffer. I will protect them.

 

30 September 1789

 

Today we boarded the ‘Southern Star’ bound for America. We shall make a new life for ourselves and our children. Father has given me five thousand pounds in gold. I know he loves me and is doing what he must for Edward and my sisters. I bear him no ill will, but I can never return to England. Leaving my brother and sisters has been the most difficult thing I have ever done, especially leaving Edward. It grieves me that I shall never see him again on this side of life, though I have promised Edward that our lines shall cross again. Someday my son, or perhaps my grandson, shall marry his daughter or granddaughter, or the reverse. I know not when, but I feel certain that our lives will intersect.

 

Darcy filed that last entry away as he pondered its meaning. “Elizabeth, how tragic this is! He must have loved Rebecca very much to have given up his inheritance for her. That was not an easy thing to do in the 18th century. Had he stayed in England, I believe the entire family would have fallen into disgrace, and Mr. Bennet’s daughters would not have been able to marry or be received in society. His father had no choice, really,” Darcy said with a sigh. He knew from his own family history how brutal society and class censure had been.

“I believe you’re probably correct, but I do think it happened for the best. John Bennet recovered everything he lost, and his brother benefited, too. If you read on, you will see that they were very close, though, unfortunately, world events separated the families, and it didn’t help matters that Edward’s wife, Frances, did not like Rebecca at all and had made her sentiments very much known within the family. There are a few letters that survived the years, and that’s all the knowledge we have.”

“Elizabeth, if it is as I think, then I know it was for the best. My Darcy ancestor, Fitzwilliam, married an Elizabeth Bennet from Longbourn, and if things are as I suspect, then you and I are distantly related. If that is the case, and your ancestral grandfather had inherited Longbourn in Hertfordshire, then my ancestral grandfather would not have been able to marry his Elizabeth, as they most likely would not have met. I would not be here and neither would you, so things happened as they should have. When I go to London during the holidays, I’ll check the records. I’ve never been to Longbourn in Hertfordshire. I suspect the house has been given up for progress, but the parish church should still be there.”

“Do check it out. I’ve heard so much about Longbourn in England from my grandparents and great aunts and uncles. We’ve passed so many tales down through the generations that I feel as if I know the place. I’d dearly love to know what happened to everything.”

“I’ll find out what I can.”

They continued reading for several hours, with Darcy rapidly skimming over the journals, going from one generation to another, conferring with Elizabeth and gleaning as much historical information as he could. By the time they had finished, Darcy had a full picture of the Bennett family. Now he would look in his own family history for the rest of the story, determined to see if his hunch was correct, and he was very sure it was.

 

~*~

 

Before returning to town, Elizabeth took Fitzwilliam to the family cemetery at Longbourn Baptist Church. It was a quiet spot under several large pine, cedar, and oak trees, now barren of leaves.

“Elizabeth, before seeing your parents’ graves, I’d like to see your ancestors’ graves, particularly John Bennet’s.”

“Yes, we can do that. It’s over here, in the older part of the cemetery.”

They walked for a bit until they came to a very old flat stone, eroded from the weather, but still remarkably readable. Darcy stooped down and brushed the dirt and leaves from the granite so that he could read the inscriptions. He traced his fingers gently over the words ‘Father John Thomas Bennet Born August 11, 1762, Died November 4, 1860. Mother Rebecca Jane Alexander Bennet Born August 11, 1768, Died November 4, 1861. Inseparable in life, inseparable in death. A promise is yet to be fulfilled.’ Darcy stood and took his personal digital assistant from his coat and recorded the names and dates.

“Elizabeth, what is meant by ‘a promise is yet to be fulfilled’?”

“Umm…I think it’s recorded in some of the old letters we have that he made a solemn oath and had intended to send one of his sons back to England to marry one of Edward’s daughters, only it never happened. I know Edward, his first son, was supposed to go to Hertfordshire in 1812, but with the war, that was put off. He found someone else instead, and married her. I don’t think he was ever keen on marrying a stranger in the first place. Then Nathanial, John’s second son, was to go in 1819, but with the Panic of 1819 and the first American depression that followed, well, several things got in the way, and he never did go either. After that, it seemed not to be so important, and as the generations continued on, none paid it much mind. I guess the desire to return was lost. It’s kind of sad, isn’t it?”

“Yes…yes, it is.” Taking a few steps to his left, Darcy asked, “Are these his sons?”

“Yes, that’s my great-great-great grandfather Edward Samuel and his wife Mary Alice Prophet, and next to him is Nathanial Bedford and Martha Tripp, his wife. John Newton, Robert Lawrence, and two of the girls are buried elsewhere with their families.”

“Tell me again, what were the girls’ names?” Darcy asked as he studied the gravestones.

“Let’s see, there was Emily Jane Bennet Sanders, whom my sister Jane is named for, and Mary Bethany Bennet Snow, whom Mary Beth is named for, and then there are Barshaba Nan, Cassandra Elizabeth, and Margaret Inella. They were known as the three spinster aunts: Aunt Barshie, Aunt Cassie, and Aunt Maggie Nell. They’re buried on the other side of Nathanial and Martha. And there were several others that died in infancy. They are to the right of John and Rebecca. William Thomas lived two months, Ella Catherine lived nine months, and Daniel Clifton only lived one week. That’s all the children there were. Anything else you’d like to see or know?” Elizabeth asked.

“No, I’m just a little curious at the dates on these stones,” he said as he walked back to John and Rebecca’s headstone. “I’m going to check them against some dates in England to see what I come up with.”

“You do that. Now let’s go visit Mom and Dad.”

“Lead on,” he said as he placed his PDA back in his pocket.

They walked a bit around the back of the church to the newest part of the churchyard, where the larger and more elaborate gravestones resided.

“This is it,” she said. “It’s so sad because they were so young. Mother was only fifty-three and my father fifty-four. They never had the chance to see any of us marry or live long enough to see their grandchildren. Grace always tells me they are in a better place. I like to think that they are allowed to look down and see us.” Elizabeth slowly knelt down to place some fall flowers on the grave.

“From what you’ve told me, your parents loved all of you very much, and I know from what I’ve seen that they did an excellent job rearing you and your siblings. I can only hope we follow in their stead and do as well with our own family.”

When Elizabeth heard him say this, she immediately rose to embrace Darcy. Holding her, he continued to reassure her of his desires for their future happiness.

“Liz, I also want to believe that your parents can look down upon us. I want them to know that I love their daughter very much, and that I will always cherish you. I hope they can see that you and our children will be forever dear to me. I know that it’s not the same as it once was a hundred or even fifty years ago, but to the best of my ability, I will see that you are happy and don’t want for anything, either materially or emotionally.”

Elizabeth was struck by how Darcy looked up to the sky, as if he were telling her parents not to worry about their daughter’s future. She gave him a gentle hug while thanking him for his kindness. Leaving the cemetery, they walked to the car hand in hand. Just as they were about to enter the Durango, a pair of snow-white mourning doves flew by, headed in the direction of the older part of the church cemetery. Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth glanced at the birds. “Those must be the doves I’ve been hearing about. They’re unusual,” Elizabeth said.

“They’re just white pigeons. What’s so unusual about them?”

“No, they are not pigeons. They’re mourning doves, and it’s only once in a blue moon that a pair of albino doves appear. There’s some sort of superstition associated with them because they are so rare.”

Fitzwilliam smiled and shook his head as he helped her into the car.

 

Later that night—the midnight call

 

The phone rang and rang, going to voice mail and then ringing again. David reached across the redhead in his bed, fumbling to find his mobile.

…Damn it, who’s calling me at this hour? Surely not Father…

He checked the caller ID. “Fitzwilliam, why on earth are you calling me at this Godforsaken hour? Do you know what time it is?”

“Yes, it’s precisely 12:06 in the morning USA central standard time, and it should be 6:06 your time.” Fitzwilliam softly laughed, clearly in a good mood.

“Has something happened? What the bloody hell is wrong that you have to get me out of bed at this hour?”

Another voice interrupted. “David, who is it? Who are you talking to?” asked the woman lying next to him.

“Hush love, it’s my brother, and I need to find out what’s wrong. Fitzwilliam, now why are you calling?”

“Who are you in bed with this time—the redhead, the blonde, or the brunette? Oh never mind. I don’t really want to know. I’m calling to tell you that I’m getting married, and I need your help.”

“What the…? Fitzwilliam, did I hear you correctly? You’re getting married?” he asked in shock, finally becoming awake. “You’ve only been there four months!”

Fitzwilliam laughed. “Yes, I know it’s been a short time, but when you find the right one, you know it. And she’s the most wonderful woman in the world. She’s a maths professor here at the university where I teach, but before you get too wound up, let me tell you a little about her. Her name is Elizabeth Bennett, and she comes from a very good family, educated in one of the best schools in the Northeast—MIT to be exact. There’s so much more to tell, but I’ll save that for when I see you in December. My problem is going to be telling Father. He’s not going to like this. I’ll need your help in convincing him to accept my choice. I’m afraid he may disown me.”

David, now fully awake, sat up in bed and propped against his pillow, smiling as he rolled his eyes at the impulsive behavior of his otherwise reserved brother. “You don’t do things by half, do you, Brother? Father’s going to be furious. But don’t worry. I’ll support you all the way.” David chuckled. “I can’t believe you’re actually getting married or have even found that perfect woman you’ve always talked about. I’ll be in Charleston in a few days. Do you want me to come up and meet her?”

“No, not this time. We’re going to be extremely busy with the semester ending. Elizabeth and I won’t be spending much time together over the next few days because of our schedules. I’ll see you in London. When will you be there?”

“I have an appointment with Lawton & Co. for that blasted coffee contract Father wants, and then I’ll leave for London either that night or the next day. I’ll be home by December 5th.”

“Good, I’ll see you on December 12th then.”

“Fitzwilliam, congratulations! I’m in shock. She must be an amazing woman, and I want to know all about her when I see you. And I mean all the details.”

Fitzwilliam chortled. “Maybe not all the details, David! But I will tell you everything you need to know. Oh, and David, did your Lamborghini arrive?”

“No, I was in Sant’Agata Bolognese last week to have the seats fitted. Fitzwilliam, it’s a dream. They allowed me to drive the prototype. I’m in love! It’s to be delivered after the New Year.”

“Ha! I can’t wait to drive it. I’m sorry it won’t be there for Christmas. Keep me informed. I’ll see you when I get home. Good night, or rather, good morning.”

David chuckled. “Good night to you, too, and I’ll see you in December.”

David slid his mobile shut and fell back on his pillow.

“What was that about?” Cybil asked.

“That was my brother, and as you heard, he’s getting married.”

David put the mobile down and folded his hands behind his head, trying to absorb the information he had just received.

“That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for Fitzwilliam. Many of us wondered if he’d ever meet anyone that would suit him.” The woman laughed. “He’s so stuffy and reserved. Nothing like you, darling. You know, I think I would like to marry someday.” She giggled and reached over to kiss him.

He jerked away, staring at her in disbelief. “As long as you don’t have any delusions about marrying me, I think marriage would be a good thing for you, but I would hate to lose you.”

“David, don’t you ever want to marry?”

“I’ve told you before I’m not the marrying kind. I’ve not given any indications to the contrary. All of society knows how I feel on that subject, and I’m not about to change my mind for you or anyone else.” David gave her a poignant look. “You don’t have a gold-plated pussy, love. You can be replaced.”

She threw back her head and cackled. “I understand our arrangement, but even if I do marry, we can still see each other.”

“No, love, that’s one thing I don’t do, and I won’t make an exception even for you, notwithstanding that you are one of the best shags I’ve ever had. If you marry, it’s over, darling. Adultery is not on my agenda.”

He thought of his parents when he spoke.

“Well then, I’ll have to stay single, won’t I?” She laughed

He smiled and caressed her bare shoulder. “Yes, single is my preference—it suits you much better, and suits me as well.”