Chapter 1: Per Aspera

Posted on 2010-05-14

Richard Fitzwilliam looked out at the steel-colored waters of the Atlantic, not caring about the sky darkening as a storm gathered. He was thinking of the last time he had seen his father, in the empty vestibule of some formerly great house in London. It was just before his battalion left for France, and even knowing his only living son could very likely be killed, the Ambassador couldn't bring himself to even shake Richard's hand. Two months later, Richard had taken a bullet in the neck, and all he could think about was that cold, empty house and his father's colder eyes. Once he had recovered from his wound, he didn't even think about trying to see his father again. He didn't know if his father even knew he survived the war. He didn't imagine he cared either way.

Instead he went home to Virginia for a while, eventually coming to stay with his Darcy cousins on their property in the mountains of North Carolina. The wound he took didn't do any permanent damage other than a thick scar on the side of his neck. The real damage came from the things he had seen. Slowly, he was knitting himself together again. He had the love and support of his favorite cousins, Georgiana and Will, he had his motorcycle, and thanks to his large interest in Darcy's munitions factory (an investment his father, the Ambassador, had advised him against), he had his own fortune intact. He was beholden to no man but himself.

He had decided to take a break from his cousin's company and let him manage his estate while Richard toured the coast. He found himself in Charleston on May first, and he had escaped to the seaside to find some relief from the heat in the ocean air. Walking up and down the boardwalk, he noticed only several other tourists; no doubt most of the city knew to keep indoors with a storm approaching like the one that was now brewing. Deep down he couldn't care less if the storm picked him up and deposited him in the middle of the ocean. The war had made him weary deep in his blood and bones. To not struggle anymore, he thought, could only be a relief.

Richard realized that he had been absentmindedly staring at a woman in a blue dress who stood on the beach. She held her sandals in one hand and watched as her feet sank into the wet sand. He was mesmerized as she stepped out of the sinking sand, only to repeat the exercise again and again. Only when a boom of thunder rolled across the sky did Richard look up, seeing out of the corner of his eye that the lady did the same. He could not see her face properly, only the swirl of dark curls around her head. Feeling an odd reluctance to leave the fascinating scene below him, he began to make his way back to his motorcycle.

The breeze had turned almost chilly, and the first fat raindrops had begun to fall. He was only a mile away from his hotel, but was nevertheless anxious to get out of what was promising to be a hell of a storm. Getting on his bike, he noticed the woman in the blue dress was walking rapidly, still barefoot, looking worriedly up at the sky. A few drops of rain had already fallen on her shoulders, turning her dress a darker blue in those places. He noticed that she was pretty, with dark expressive eyes and a healthy complexion. The worry strained her features and he only gave a moment's pause before speaking to her.

"Miss?" She continued walking towards the sidewalk, either not having heard him or purposely ignoring him. He called out to her again. "Pardon me, Miss?" This time she turned around and looked at him questioningly. She could hardly be called a woman; she didn't look to be a day older than eighteen. He was struck by the expression in her dark eyes and he was silent for several moments before he noticed the furrow in her brow. That had decided him. "Do you have far to walk, Miss? I would be happy to give you a ride if you need one." He said, gesturing towards his motorcycle.

The girl looked skeptically at him, then at the motorcycle. She paled a little before turning back to him; a wry smile twisted her mouth charmingly. "Thank you," her voice was softened by her accent, but he noticed that it had none of the thickness of the Charleston accents, "but my hotel is over a mile away, I was going to wait out the rain in that diner." She pointed north, about seven blocks down the street and he saw the sign 'Matlock's'. He gave a chuckle at the name and looked back at the girl, whose eyebrow arched at his laughter. He couldn't help but smile at her, and was surprised to realize he couldn't remember the last time he had openly smiled. "Please, let me at least give you a ride that far."

She seemed to be weighing him with her eyes, sizing him up. At his genuine smile, it seemed as if the sun were shining just for a moment on his face, and she nodded her consent before brushing the sand off of her feet and replacing her sandals. "Have you ever ridden a motorcycle before?" he asked cautiously. At this she laughed openly, a low bubbling sound that made him tingle from his feet to the roots of his hair. "Don't worry for my sake, Sir" she said, smiling confidently, "I know enough not to fall off the back of one."

Richard flashed another sunny grin and straddled the motorcycle in one fluid movement. A moment after he felt her weight on the seat behind him. He was polite enough not to look behind him as she adjusted her dress, no matter how badly he wanted to. He revved the bike to life, not feeling the cold, fat raindrops that were falling more freely now, but the warmth emanating from behind him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so close to a woman, as the war had made some pursuits pointless. He felt her arms timidly clutch the sides of his jacket, and he took a moment to enjoy the closeness of this strange girl before backing the bike up and taking off in the direction of the Diner.

Soon, too soon for his liking, they reached Matlock's. Parking the bike under the awning he once again gave her a moment to dismount and adjust her dress before turning to look at her. The rain was falling freely now, and he tried very hard not to notice the way her clothes clung to her in places. Instead he looked at her face, and saw a softened expression in her eyes. "Thank you," she said gratefully, "can I at least buy you a cup of coffee for your trouble, Mister…?" He returned her smile and held out his hand "Richard Fitzwilliam. And I would love a cup of coffee." She put her small hand in his and gave it a quick, firm shake. "Richard Fitzwilliam. Nice to meet you, I'm Elizabeth Bennet. Should we go in or do you think we should start gathering two of every animal?"

He laughed out loud at her wit, killing the engine on the bike. He got off and shrugged out of his jacket before handing it over to her. "Please", was all he said, and it occurred to him he said it as much for his sake as for hers. He saw her face flush prettily before she nodded and put his jacket on over her wet dress. Though the jacket was slightly damp too, it at least gave her the advantage of hiding her wet clothes under it. They hurried together towards the diner entrance, and when opening the door for her he could not resist putting his hand on her back to usher her in.

The girl, Elizabeth, he reminded himself, strode confidently over to a booth facing the street, where they could see rain pouring down in heavy sheets. The street had already begun to flood, and Richard was glad he had not driven much further. Settling in to their booth, he felt her speculative gaze on him and chose to continue looking out the window for the time being. The waitress, a pretty older woman who wore entirely too much lipstick, came over to them and greeted Elizabeth by name. "Miss Lizzy, did you get caught up in that rain?" Elizabeth smiled up at the waitress "Almost, ma'am. My friend Richard here gave me a ride so it wasn't too bad." The waitress turned to him with a knowing smile. He felt uncomfortable under so much scrutiny, and for a moment considered that this is what his cousin Darcy must feel like. His discomfort must have shown because the waitress next took out her order pad and pulled a pencil from behind her ear. "What can I get ya'll?" she asked.

Elizabeth ordered a cup of coffee and a slice of peach pie for herself; he briefly looked up and ordered the same. The waitress nodded and was off, coming back moments later with two cups of steaming black coffee, a bowl of sugar cubes, a small pitcher of cream, and two slices of warm peach pie that smelled so sweet his stomach gave an involuntary rumble.

He looked up at Elizabeth, who had continued her observation of him while stirring her coffee absently. "So." She stated after taking a sip from her mug, "Richard Fitzwilliam. That's quite a mouthful." The corner of her mouth turned up in a smile. He smiled back, taking a long pull off of his coffee before answering her. "I suppose it is. You can call me Dick if you like." She paused before answering, "No, I like Richard. It's a respectable sounding name. Pair that with your motorcycle, you can't get much more respectable in these parts."

"And shall I call you Elizabeth or would you prefer Lizzie?"

"Oh by all means, stick with Elizabeth. I won't be satisfied unless I'm at least somewhat respectable myself." She said playfully before biting into a forkful of pie. He smiled at her, saying, "Elizabeth it shall be then. And I am only too happy to be Richard for you. By all means let us be respectable. And if I may, how are you enjoying Charleston? You mentioned you were staying in a hotel so I took it to mean you are only visiting."

He paused to let her answer and to try the pie. He was immediately aware of a rich, earthy sweetness, and a hint of tartness flooding his mouth as she gave him a knowing smile. He didn't think he'd ever eaten anything so sweet, so deliciously perfect in his life as that bite of peach pie. He felt some small part of him relax and let go of the somber mood he'd been carrying around for the past four years. Between the pie, and the glowing look he saw across the booth, Richard felt something close to happiness for the first time in years.

What an extraordinary day this is turning out to be! He thought to himself.

Elizabeth took another sip of coffee before answering. "Yes, I'm only visiting with my sister Jane and my aunt Gardiner. I'm going to college in a few months and coming to Charleston with my sister was my Aunt's gift to me." He noticed that her face wore an endearing mix of embarrassment and pride. He smiled reassuringly at her and continued, "And will your sister be going to University as well?" She flushed deeper, "No, Jane is training to be a nurse and stays home to help my mother deal with my other sisters. I'm the second eldest, so I'm the first of us, besides my father, to go to college. I suspect my sister Mary is clever enough for it as well, but she won't graduate for another year." He read between the lines at her obvious pride and the embarrassed flush on her face that she was going on scholarship, or else she would not be going at all. Again he thought about how only an hour ago he was alone and full of dark thoughts, and now here he was with a mouthful of peach pie, sitting across from an uncommonly pretty and clever young lady, who shivered for a moment and pulled his jacket closer around her.

"How many brothers and sisters do you have?" Richard could hardly contain his curiosity. "No brothers, and four sisters." She was looking off at nothing, obviously thinking of home, a somewhat rueful smile on her face. "Five daughters? That must keep your father busy!" She laughed out loud, her eyes focusing on him again, sparkling with mirth. "We have a small cluster of farms in Meryton, my father spends most of his time either in the fields or in his office with a book. Having five daughters has certainly taught him the finer points of quiet and solitude." She shifted in her seat and focused on him.

"But what about you, Richard? Do you have brothers and sisters?" Richard's mouth compressed to a grim line. "One brother, and if you can believe it his name's even more of a mouthful than my own." She chuckled and said "Longer than Richard Fitzwilliam? Heaven Forbid!"

"Actually, my name's Lieutenant Colonel Richard George Fitzwilliam".

"I hope you don't mind if I don't use your full moniker but continue with just 'Richard'. I can only tolerate so much respectability. But how could your brother's name be longer than that?"

"His full name was Lieutenant Commander Robert James Fitzwilliam the Third".

Her eyes widened at the word 'was', but only for a moment. Her eyes softened and she tentatively put a hand on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I stand corrected, Sir. If my name were that long I'm sure it would take me a week to sign it." He appreciated her tact at that moment; he knew his misery must have been plain on his face. Attempting to lighten the mood, he continued "But I do have joint guardianship of my young cousin, along with her brother, who is like a brother to me. We're all close enough to pass for actual siblings." He smiled in memory of Georgie playing hopscotch only a few days ago. To be that young again, he mused. Elizabeth leaned forward in the booth, holding her mug in both hands. "Have you traveled much?" she asked, in an attempt to steer the conversation away from dark waters. "I only come here once a year maybe to visit my Aunt and Uncle, other than that I've never been anywhere."

He settled in his seat and began talking about all that he had seen as a boy, growing up in Washington D.C., and about his travels in Boston, New York and Philadelphia. Any talk of the war he avoided, which she seemed to have picked up on and did not ask anything relating to the last six years, but instead focused on his boyhood and the wonders of New York, which she had always wanted to visit. They continued on this way for another hour, and neither of them had noticed that the rain had ceased and the street was clear, drying in the sudden appearance of the May Sun.

Only a soft, lilting voice crying "Lizzie!" from the door was able to put an end to their conversation. Richard saw Elizabeth eyes soften with affection before she blushed again, obviously at having been caught at a diner with a strange man. He turned around towards the person who had spoken from the door, his breath suddenly caught in his throat.

Walking towards them was one of, perhaps the most beautiful women he had ever seen in his life. Her soft, blonde curls rested like a golden crown on her head, her deep blue eyes wore an expression of concern and relief. "Jane, I'd like you to meet my new friend." Elizabeth said from across the booth, amused at his dumbfounded expression. "Richard, this is my sister Jane Bennet. Jane, this is Richard Fitzwilliam. He helped me escape the flood so I thought I'd treat him to slice of peach pie."

"It's a p-pleasure to meet you, Miss Bennet" he managed to say. Jane Bennet wore a gentle expression and smiled with gratitude. "Mister Fitzwilliam, thank you for helping my sister." She turned to Elizabeth "I was so worried with this weather Lizzie, and you were gone for so long!"

"Did Aunt Gardiner let you take the car?" she asked, surprised. Jane nodded. "Well, then I suppose we'd better get back and put her mind at ease." Elizabeth said, somewhat reluctantly. Jane seemed to take the hint and inclined her head towards Richard in a quaint gesture. "Mister Fitzwilliam, it was very nice to meet you." She said with a soft, friendly smile. He barely had time to return the sentiment before she glided out the door and headed towards a large gray sedan. Elizabeth stood and seemed to consider something before saying "Richard. I hope that you will come have dinner with my sister and my aunt and I tomorrow night. We're staying at the King Charles Inn?" she phrased the last like a question; he nodded and said he knew where it was.

"Well then." She took off his jacket, and handed it back to him. He draped the jacket over his arm, fighting the instinct to bury his face in it and inhale her smell. She took some money out of the pocket of her dress to leave on the table, and he took the hand in his, shaking his head "No, Elizabeth. I won't let you pay for this. That was probably the best pie I've ever had in my life. I would feel guilty if I let you pay."

She flushed a fierce red, his hand still holding hers, and smiled up at him. "How about we go Dutch?" she asked. He stared blankly at her, causing her to blush even more. "Go Halfsies? Split the bill?" He smiled and shook his head. "Please. Allow me." Slowly, reluctantly, he released her hand. She put her money back in her pocket, keeping her eyes anywhere but his. He knew she was embarrassed by his boldness, but seemed to be pleased as well.

"I will come by your hotel tomorrow, and if your Aunt and Sister don't mind, then I would be happy to join you for dinner." His voice was low, just above a whisper. She looked up at him fully at last, and beamed a smile at him that seemed to melt him from the inside out. Her large, dark eyes sparkled and Richard considered that while her sister might be more beautiful, but Elizabeth undoubtedly had an undefined quality that made her more irresistible than any young woman he had ever encountered. "I'll look forward to seeing you then" she said, still red-faced but by no means displeased. With that, she walked out the door and joined her sister by the gray sedan. He sat down heavily in the booth, watching the car pull away. "Elizabeth Bennet" he said to himself. No other words were necessary.