Chapter Forty-nine

 

 

…I could love him if it were a different time…

 

During the flight back to London, David’s thoughts were filled with Cecilia. He leaned back in his seat, relaxing as his mind wandered. Just as he was about to drift off into a comfortable dream-filled sleep, the sudden intrusion of his air phone snapped him from his dreams of the lady he’d left behind.

“Mr. Darcy, this is Herman Biggs. I received your message and want to update you.”

“Yes, tell me how the investigation is coming along.”

“Well, so far, we have no leads, and although this is not unusual, it is irritating, I know,” he said. “Mrs. Darcy must have someone helping her cover her tracks, but don’t worry. We’ll find her.”

“Irritating doesn’t even touch it! I want to know where she is!”

“Like I said, don’t worry. We’ll find her. We have a few more avenues to pursue. She can’t stay hidden forever. When we get something, we will let you know, but until then, you will begin to get monthly updates from us. If you need anything further, feel free to ring me, otherwise look for my report. I’ll send it though the post.”

“Thanks for the update, Biggs. Keep looking, I want Mrs. Darcy found. Do whatever it takes, and spare no expense. Find her, Biggs.”

“Will do, Mr. Darcy.”

David cursed. Where the bloody hell was she! It had been a little over three months since he had hired Biggs, and still there was nothing. It was as if she had vanished from the face of the earth. Except for the week between Christmas and the New Year, he would be out of the country until March. He had hoped there would be some news by now. He released an exasperated breath. …Make no mistake, Elizabeth Darcy, you will be found!

 

~*~

 

That evening after David left, Cecilia returned to the townhouse. Walking through the door, Elizabeth greeted her. “Hmm, you look good! How did the fundraiser go last night?”

“Wonderful! Just wonderful. I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed myself more,” she mused, placing her coat on the rack and sending her purse upstairs with the maid.

Elizabeth chuckled, rubbing her stomach as she and Cecilia turned to walk toward the sunroom. “Well, I daresay David Darcy is a lot more fun than Cameron Taylor, but really, Celia, you should try to find a nice man. If you must marry, at least marry someone who will be faithful, which we both know Cameron will never be. And David? He’s a playboy. I wouldn’t waste my time with him either. Besides, his future is in England, not here,” Elizabeth advised as she and Cecilia took a seat.

Cecilia tossed her head. “Lizzy, it’s not what you think. I know perfectly well what David is and that we could never have a future together, but he is a lot of fun, and I enjoy his company. Which brings me to my next point. He’s coming back in November to spend a week, so I will need you to move to the plantation house on James Island when the time comes.” Cecilia sighed. “Like I said, David may be fun, but he’s also dangerous. I’ve come to know he is fiercely loyal to his brother. Should he discover you, it would not be good for either of us.”

Elizabeth cringed. She, better than anyone, understood the bond that existed between the two brothers. “Thanks for the warning. I don’t want to face him or my husband.”

Leaning back against a cushion, she chewed her lower lip. “Hopefully, when he is remarried, I will feel more at ease and able to handle it,” she lied as her hand protectively went to her protruding belly. Cutting her eyes across at Cecilia, she softly spoke, “And yes, Celia, I know.”

“You know what, darling?” Cecilia watched her sympathetically.

Elizabeth glanced over to the large picture window and peered out. “I know that someday I will have to tell him about the children. I know it cannot be hidden forever, but I’ll cross that river when I come to it.” Her voice trailed off into sadness.

Cecilia reached over and took her friend’s hand reassuringly. “We’ll get you through this, and in time, all will be better.”

Elizabeth looked down, unable to meet Cecilia’s warm smile. “Perhaps it will. I don’t know.”

“Of course it will. Just you wait and see. Now let’s eat and get to your class. I’m so excited about being your birthing coach. Just think, I get to experience the joys of childbirth without any of the trouble. I can’t wait until those babies are here.” Cecilia patted her friend’s hand as they rose to leave for the dining room.

 

~*~

 

Now in her seventh month, Elizabeth spent as much time as possible outside, often going to the park across the street to read or walking down King Street to shop in one of the many stores. Overall, her life was as content as it could be, given the circumstances. Many an hour was spent under the shade of the towering live oaks in White Point Gardens where Elizabeth had begun to read and talk to the children, having now named them since she knew she was having a boy and a girl.

Although separated from her husband, Elizabeth felt compelled to maintain his family tradition of naming sons after their ancestors. Therefore, the boy would be Fitzwilliam Alexander Bennet Darcy—Alex for short, and the girl would be Emmaline Cecilia Bennet Darcy, but she would be called Emily.

Resigned to her lot in life, Elizabeth’s days were filled with reading and sewing as she and Cecilia stitched the entire layette for her babies. Creating the designs occupied her mind and brought her a feeling of accomplishment. However, the hours of darkness brought something else. In the loneliness of the night, she ached for the touch of her husband’s hand upon hers, for his warmth when he hugged her, and most of all, for the assurance of his love. She remembered all of their talks about life, books they’d read, the music they liked, and their exploration of their family histories. She recollected her last birthday, their three days in the snow, their quiet evenings at home working on school- related projects, and most of all, their nights of passionate lovemaking. Those were perhaps the hardest memories of all. Her body ached for his touch, for the feel of his skin against hers, and the feel of his lips when he kissed her. He had promised to love her always, and yet, he hadn’t. He had left her.

She pulled out his letter and reread it, crying as she looked from the only picture she had kept of him to his letter. He had broken her heart. Then she felt the children quicken and knew for their sakes she had to move on.

 

~*~

 

Cecilia finally received a disappointing report on the Darcy brothers. As she sat at her desk in her executive suite at Lawton Complex, she read over the details. It appeared that Fitzwilliam Darcy had an impeccable character—no moral, legal, or ethical indiscretions. The only item of note was a two-year love affair with a Miss Stella Fitzgerald while he attended Oxford. That was nothing so different from any other college student, and it seemed to not have been repeated, therefore it wasn’t a pattern.

Pemberley, PLC was also clean. There were only a few minor questionable activities, but nothing more than she or her father had done—there was nothing illegal.

David, on the other hand, had an extensive sheet of misdeeds. As she read through his long history, she had to laugh. There were several pictures of him in very compromising positions with scantily clad women hanging on him. Shuffling through them, there was one photograph that caused her to pause. It was a tabloid picture of him with Sandra Hamilton, a popular porn star and exotic dancer, accompanied by an article of a supposed engagement between them, which was hotly denied by both him and his father. Knowing him as she did, she laughed at the absurdity of such a notion, especially when she considered his position in society. She laughed again as she resumed perusing the photographs one by one. His hands were always in places where they should not have been. Cecilia smiled, shaking her head. …So he is a playboy, just as Lizzy told me—a real scoundrel, even. He’s your kind of man…an alpha if I’ve ever seen one. Hmm…no wonder you like him, Celia. He lives life on the wild side, not so very different from you.

She shrugged her shoulders and filed the report in her personal file folder. She hadn’t learned much more than she had from her own search—just a few more details. Rising from her desk, she walked over to the large picture window of her second-story office overlooking downtown Charleston, deep in thought as she chewed on the tip of her pencil eraser. What she read should have distressed her, but instead, it intrigued her. He hadn’t been the playboy with her. He had been sensitive, even loving. Strangely, she found herself more attracted to him than ever. While staring out her window, she anticipated seeing him again as she daydreamed of their last encounter.

 

~*~

 

Fitzwilliam buried himself in his work with little time to think of anything else. During the day he fared well, but at night, it was a different story. In the loneliness of his room, all he could do was think of Elizabeth and the times they had experienced together.

He knew he was growing dependent on alcohol, but it was the only way he could block the thoughts and memories that caused his body to ache… desiring her… wanting her—and not having her. Desire and need ate away at him. This was insane. He knew he had to defeat this demon, and that of the bottle, too. But even as those thoughts echoed through his mind, he picked up his brandy decanter and poured one more drink while staring at her photograph beside the letter she had written him. He was sinking into despair, yet he felt helpless to stop it. Surely the dull ache in his heart would subside in time. Once he had overcome his past, he would live again. But what about the future?

He sighed heavily. Having thought upon it, he decided he would never marry again, but that did not mean he wouldn’t have female comfort for his needs. No, in time, he would take care of it like other rich men, finding a pretty woman to escort in society and take care of him at night, much as his father had done in his desperate times during his marriage—and particularly after the death of his mother.

In Fitzwilliam’s way of thinking, sex was a need while love was optional. He was vastly different from the man he used to be. Honor, duty, integrity—the code he’d lived by much of his life had left a bitter taste in his mouth.