Chapter Forty-five

 

 

…worry was ever-present in David’s mind where his brother was concerned …

 

Late September

 

Fitzwilliam went through the motions of living, but inside he was dead. He spent his waking hours in excess of work and drink. On the weekends, he stayed drunk. His mind continually relived his arguments with Elizabeth as he tried to come to terms with what had happened.

Another weekend arrived, and like the others that preceded it, he was drinking heavily, languishing in self-pity and despair. Stone-faced, Fitzwilliam sat and poured another drink—thoughts and memories coursing through his brain.

…How did I end up like this? Why did I give so much of myself to her, that she had such power over me? Why? As he emptied the bottle and drank the last drink, his anger rose. …Damn her. He flung the bottle, followed by the glass, into the fireplace and sank into unconsciousness as he slid out of his chair into the floor.

When Watson found Fitzwilliam the next morning, he immediately sent for David. Together they lifted him up. “Watson, help me get him to bed, and when he wakes, call me. I’ll help you clean him up. I don’t know who he thinks he’s fooling, but it isn’t me.” David looked at his brother—incensed that he would let himself go in such a self-degrading manner.

“Yes, sir, we’ll take care of him. I never thought I would see Mr. Darcy come to this.” Watson shook his head.

Fitzwilliam slept into the afternoon while Watson kept watch over him, reading the paper and waiting for some sign of life. When Fitzwilliam finally began to stir, Watson sent for David.

Upon entering his brother’s room, David seethed with renewed anger. The room reeked from the smell of stale whiskey.

“Watson, open these windows to let some fresh air in,” David said, clearly disgusted. “Fitzwilliam, you need a shower and a shave. You look awful, and if you don’t get into the shower on your own accord, I’m going to personally put you in there. Get up!”

“Bugger off, David, I can barely move. Leave me alone.”

“No, you’re getting up! Now come on, you’re getting into the shower or I’m going to put you in there myself. Do you understand me?”

Fitzwilliam looked at his brother in disbelief.

“Do I have to undress and wash you myself? Come on. Get out of bed!”

David flung back the covers. It was clear he meant business.

As Fitzwilliam rose up, he dipped his head and rubbed his brow. “No, I’ll take care of myself.”

Moving very slowly, he struggled to push himself from the bed.

Watching his brother labor to stand clumsily to his feet, David cursed under his breath before grabbing his brother’s arm and helping him to the shower. Returning to the bedroom, David helped Watson clean up the room before taking a seat and waiting for Fitzwilliam to stumble back into his chamber.

“Feel better?” David asked when his brother emerged.

“Some, but my head is splitting, and I think I’m going to be sick,” he said, dropping down in the chair next to his brother.

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that, so I had this sent up for you.”

Reaching over to the table beside them, he poured his brother a cup of tea and handed it to him.

“Sip it slowly, and then eat a little. You should feel better soon. Now, we’re going to talk. Fitzwilliam, I know the breakup with Elizabeth has been a painful shock to you, but you have to get a hold of yourself. You have to go on. I’m here for you. Together we will get through this, but you have to take the initiative.”

“I don’t need sympathy or help, David. I will recover after I’ve come to terms with what has happened.”

“I’m not here to offer you sympathy, Brother, but help is another thing, because you definitely do need help, and yes, I know you will recover, but I don’t want you to be alone. We’re going out today. It’ll do you good to get out of this house—out of this room. We’ll go to White’s this afternoon and Pemberley tomorrow. We’ll spend time riding. Pack your things. We’re leaving in the morning. I’ve already spoken to Richard and William, and they have agreed to cover for us.”

“David, I don’t want to go anywhere,” Fitzwilliam said, still holding his head.

“Oh, I beg to differ. You don’t have a choice in this matter. If you don’t go, I’ll ring Uncle Harvey. Now, do you want him to see you like this?”

“No, of course not!”

“Very well then, I’ll have Watson pack two bags. I’ll even let you drive my Lamborghini. It’ll do you a world of good to feel the power of a beautiful machine under your control.”

They spent the afternoon and evening at White’s, playing cards and catching up with old friends and acquaintances. The next day they left for Derbyshire, with Fitzwilliam driving David’s car for the first time as he put the Murciélago to the test, laughing like he hadn’t laughed in months. They spent two weeks at Pemberley, riding, playing billiards, swimming in the cove, and doing the things they had done as boys. Gradually, Fitzwilliam came back to life. David had always had the ability to bring him out of whatever dark mood had overtaken him, and this time was no exception. By the time they returned to London, David had even gotten his brother to joke and kid around again. However, worry was ever-present in David’s mind where his brother was concerned. He had one more thing to do before leaving on his annual business trip to Charleston. He had to secure his brother’s wellbeing in his absence.