Chapter Thirty

 

 

…I promised your parents …I would protect you… and protect you I shall…

 

Taking their seats at Tucker’s All You Can Eat Buffet, Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam settled in, though neither was hungry.

“Fitzwilliam, you’re upset. You haven’t said two words since we left my uncle’s office. Won’t you talk to me?”

He glanced up from his plate. “Upset is not the word for it. You Americans appall me. You still execute people—how barbaric!”

“Fitzwilliam, I think you misunderstood. No one is going to be executed. Sam Armstrong was simply trying to make a point with my dense cousin. She doesn’t exactly have a corner on the market when it comes to good sense. You have to use sensationalism to garner her attention. That’s all.”

“No, I distinctly heard Mr. Armstrong say that one of his clients was on death row in Alabama. While you were busy with your uncle’s legal assistant, I heard him say those very words. You may not have heard him, but I certainly did.”

“Fitzwilliam, calm down! I did hear him say that, and you and I should not have been listening. Furthermore, you shouldn’t have gone to the door like you did.”

“Enough, Elizabeth. I was so shocked by what I heard that I was drawn to that door like a magnet to steel, and it’s my belief that this entire situation is rotten to the core.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes and shook her head. She knew what really concerned her husband, and it wasn’t the death penalty in Alabama. Opening her eyes, she released a deep breath. “Fitzwilliam, look at me.”

He raised his eyes from his plate where his food sat barely touched.

“You’re worried, aren’t you?”

“Worried?” He raised a brow. “Whatever makes you think that?! Of course I’m worried. I don’t know how this can be contained, and my family—or should I say our families—will suffer greatly because of it. I just hope my father will not cast me aside. In spite of what I’ve said, I do love him, and I can’t bear to see him suffer because of—”

“Me.” Putting her knife and fork down, she placed both hands on the table. “I’m sorry… I’m really sorry my family will cause you pain—that they are such an embarrassment,” she retorted. “Liddy is an embarrassment to me, too. Do you think it’s easy for me to endure the stares and whispers I get every day? I want to fall through the cracks in the floor. I’ve told you before that Liddy doesn’t have enough sense to be ashamed for herself.” Tears filled Elizabeth’s eyes. “I’m holding up for my family’s sake, but I am deeply mortified by all that we now know, knowing that soon—very soon, everything will be exposed.”

He reached across the table and took Elizabeth’s hand in his. “Elizabeth, don’t worry. We’ll bear this together. It’s just that I worry about my father. He’s always been robust and vigorous. He’s sixty-two and in a constant state of agitation, especially with me of late, and I’ve begun to worry about his health. The last time I saw him he looked pale and sickly. It’s not like him at all.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “You’ve never voiced that concern before. Is there something wrong with him?”

“No, not that I know of, but I can’t help but worry. He looked thinner, more drawn, and much older than he did last summer.” He stopped short. He didn’t want to talk or think about his father any longer. If anything happened to him, he knew he’d feel responsible, even if he wasn’t. He cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Come on. Let’s go. Neither of us appears to be very hungry. You have a test to prepare for your Cal II students, and I have a pile of papers to mark.” He threw down a generous tip and helped Elizabeth with her coat.

 

~*~

 

That night, after all their work was completed, Fitzwilliam decided to forgo the scheduled reading from his family journal. Somehow he just didn’t feel like reading. As he’d done every night since their wedding, he held Elizabeth close after making love, but instead of tender thoughts, his mind was a thousand miles away across the ocean.

…My dad is going to be furious. Well, I did say I would be willing to give up my inheritance for her, and I suppose it will come to that now. But what about my dad? I’m really worried about him. What would become of the family if something were to happen to him? He has always depended on me. He looked down at Elizabeth asleep in his arms. I worry about her, too. She really doesn’t handle stress very well at all. I’ll have to protect her as best I can. I love you, Elizabeth. I promised your parents at their graveside that I would protect you, and protect you I shall. Good night, my Liz.

He gently rolled her out of his arms and snuggled close behind her back. Pulling her in an embrace, his hand cupped her breast. Soon they were both fast asleep.

 

London, England

 

Sitting around the conference table in a plush corporate suite, Harry Dashwood scanned the room, examining the faces of all present. Edmund and Henry Darcy, second cousins to George’s sons, were there. The brothers hated Fitzwilliam and David—envious of their status in London and the fact that they enjoyed a privileged lifestyle to which Edmund and Henry felt was denied to them. Yes, they would be willing to help, and more than willing to sink their teeth into their more affluent cousins. Dashwood smirked.

Also present was Edward Darcy, another second cousin, with an inflated ego and an overrated sense of his own self-importance. Looking and waiting to exact his revenge, Edward managed the L.A. office of Darcy Technologies, but believed his real worth would be in a position on the board of directors, which George had denied him. Yes, he was a very useful fool indeed!

Dashwood moved on as he scrutinized the room. Ah, Charles Wilson! Yes, Charles, married to Lora Darcy, a third cousin, managed the New York office of Darcy & Winthrop Publishing. He also coveted a position on the board. He would be more than willing to help. Lastly, there was Sean Ashton, overseer of the Ottawa office in Canada, another second cousin by marriage with a reputation for insatiable avarice and greed. Any form of vice could be useful.

Glancing to his left, he spied Jonathan Stanley, Executive Director of Management in charge of Darcy & Winthrop Publishing, International, and Jason Wesley, likewise of Darcy Technologies. And then there was himself. Harry had married Samantha Darcy, the sister of George and Harvey, shortly after graduating from Christ Church, Oxford. It had been a convenient step-up into the most powerful family in the United Kingdom. Harry smiled to himself. All three had been contemporaries of George Darcy, and all had attended university together. When George had inherited Pemberley, he had taken them on as business associates. Harry, because of his marriage to Samantha, had quickly risen up the corporate ladder to Executive Director in charge of management operations for British American Petroleum, the heart of Pemberley, PLC. The other two had moved up a little slower.

Because of their positions on the board and their close friendship with George, he had taken them into his confidence, and they, as part of his team of advisors, were privy to privileged information—information they could use to their advantage. Yes, they knew of George’s struggles and worries, of his weaknesses and declining health. And they knew of Fitzwilliam’s marriage, now cloaked in secrecy. And most importantly, they had a plan. Harry Dashwood smiled as he poured his friends a drink.

“As you know,” Dashwood began, “I have convened this meeting to discuss Pemberley’s corporate stability. You have seen the latest reports, so it’s no news to you that profits are down for another straight quarter in a row, an accumulated 63.5 percent drop over the last five years. Things are likely to go even further into decline if we don’t do something about it.” He eyed each man closely before proceeding. “George is out of touch with the business, completely oblivious to the current economic climate. He’s too embroiled in a dispute with his sons, thus the reason for the decline in revenue.

“This is our opportunity—the one we have been waiting for. Whilst George is distracted, we’ll move to gain control. Our strategy is as follows: George and his sons own 39.5 percent of the publicly-traded stock, but between us and those I’ve been able to convince to support us so far, we own an amount nearly equal to theirs. That puts us on equal footing with them and within striking distance of a serious challenge. And, if I spin things just right, I believe I can convince some of the other major shareholders to join us. With their support, we should be able to pick up another ten percent, giving us about fifty percent. Then we will only need another two percent, which we’ll need to purchase. With those things accomplished, we’ll have gained the controlling interest with a little to spare,” he said with a smile. “As we speak, I have a team of solicitors working on the formalities. Once everything is in place, we’ll have an iron-clad coalition, one George and his sons won’t be able to stop.” Dashwood chuckled as he surveyed the room. From the response he’d received from those present, and some who weren’t, his confidence soared.

“George has made the critical mistake of loaning me a considerable amount of money. I’ve secured other loans as well. If all goes as planned, we’ll have the money we need within a month, and we’ll have control of Pemberley before George or his sons are even aware of what has happened.”

“Yes, but Dashwood, that loan exposes you to unnecessary risk. Your own solicitor advised you against it. It has a six months’ duration clause. Surely you are aware of that danger?” queried Stanley.

“Of course I am. It’s a gamble, but I have all the confidence in the world that we can achieve everything we need to accomplish within six months. I will be able to repay George in full and gain control over Pemberley, too.”

Edward lit up a cigarette and listened quietly while closely watching all those present. “Harry, what are you planning to do about Fitzwilliam and David? They won’t just let us take control. You must know that?”

“They are of no consequence. Fitzwilliam is far too soft. He doesn’t have the fire in his belly for a fight. Pemberley has never been high on his list of priorities. He will take his money and leave, probably settling in America with his American wife at some university. David, on the other hand, might present a challenge, but he doesn’t have the intestinal fortitude, either. Besides, Samantha has informed me that he’s held in contempt by the majority of the family. Now Harvey may prove a little difficult, but it’s no secret that he and George barely speak. It’s well known within the family that the brothers hate each other. He won’t stop us, either. However, I would like his support just the same.”

“I don’t know, Dashwood. If Fitzwilliam and David present a challenge and win, we stand to lose substantially.”

A large smile crossed Harry Dashwood’s face. “Wesley, don’t even think about it. I know they won’t present any serious difficulties. I’ve watched them grow up. They don’t have the stomach for it. We have nothing to worry about.” The room reverberated with Dashwood’s proud and hearty laugh.

Wesley, still a little worried, posed one last question. “What about Hilda Vanderburgh?”

“Hilda follows the money. She’ll support us when the time comes.”

Edward Darcy focused on his fellow cousins. “We’d better plan carefully. I don’t think it wise to underestimate Fitzwilliam. He is co-chief executive officer and vice-chairman of the board. Although my cousin and I don’t get along, I know him well enough to know that he has a deep-seated regard for the family legacy.” Edward smirked. “He actually reads those dusty journals. He will fight, if for no other reason than that.”

“Edward’s right. We’d be unwise to count Fitzwilliam out,” Edmund said, with the other Darcys nodding in agreement.

“Pish, I tell you Fitzwilliam is not prepared to fight dirty. He is too forthright and honorable. And even if he does attempt to rise to the challenge, we don’t play by the same rules. Fitzwilliam’s Achilles’ heel is his wife. If I have to, I will get to him through her. I’ll dredge up everything I can find on that family. I’m investigating them as we speak. Perception is everything. I know how to handle Fitzwilliam.

“Now, all we have to do is solicit a little more support from the Darcy family and a few of George’s closest friends, whom, I should add, have no respect whatsoever for either of George’s sons. And by the time I’m through, they’ll have even less. We’ll assume control before George or his sons have a chance to react.” Dashwood scrutinized all those sitting around the table, looking from one to the other.

Henry Darcy, who had been silent until now, spoke up. “What exactly do you plan to do, Dashwood?”

“I’m glad you finally asked. First of all, I intend to alert the media as to where Fitzwilliam really is and what he is doing…that he’s in America, not Saudi Arabia as George has claimed. That alone will unleash the press to investigate matters as they see fit. Next, my strategy is to mysteriously release a few carefully planned news stories with juicy tidbits about David. With both brothers under scrutiny, family members and close friends will give anonymous interviews about how the company is suffering due to lack of leadership. Last year’s annual report to the shareholders speaks for itself and is in our favor. Profits were flat. This will draw George’s focus to the news media.” He grinned. “That will give me the chance I need to begin enticing the Pemberley Five, the five most prominent shareholders outside of the family, away from George and to us. I’ll convince them that George is too engrossed in family struggles. How can a man run a corporation when he cannot manage his own house? I’ll sadly emphasize that Fitzwilliam is ill-disposed and unwilling to lead such a large corporation. It is no secret where his true interests lie. And David,” he heartily laughed, “he’s far too busy with his pleasurable pursuits. He has become obsessed with fast cars, fast women, and a profligate lifestyle of debauchery, lost in a world of mediocrity. They are both unsuitable for their positions. Pemberley is nothing more than a means for sustaining their way of life.”

“A house divided cannot stand.” Jason Wesley interjected with a sneer.

“Exactly.” Dashwood reaffirmed. “That is our pretext—”

“Whilst our real motivation is control,” finished Edmund Darcy, nodding in understanding. “Ha! I love it! I think we can pull off that line of reasoning. What do the rest of you think?”

“I say we should go ahead and do it,” Henry Darcy said.

“Yes!” said the other Darcy cousins in unison.

Dashwood smiled and lifted his glass to his lips. “With the major shareholders’ support and the stock we’re buying, George won’t be able to stop us.” Dashwood laughed deeply, followed by most of the others. Only Sean Ashton and Charles Wilson remained unconvinced. Not being blood related, they had the most to lose.