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***Be forewarned there is a section in this chapter that is disturbingly graphic in its violence and might be offensive but helps explain some of the Colonel’s behavior.

Chapter 20b

Posted on Tuesday, 17 May 2005

Having not slept an entire night through in months, Richard remained in repose only awakening as he heard a valet wandering about the room, and for the sun to filter through the curtains. When the servant turned to see him awake he spoke. “Good morning, sir.”

Richard coughed and stretched to get out the knots from old injuries and yawned. “Good morning to you.”

“I have taken the liberty of preparing a bath for you if you desire one, sir.” Richard smiled.

What luxury to be a Darcy and have a bath on a daily basis!

Rising to have the valet help him into his robe, Richard followed the servant to the wash room and took little time to lower himself in the steaming water. He enjoyed the luxury exceedingly for almost an entire hour, submerging himself several times to have every fiber of him rid of the stench of French soil.

G-d, but I never want to return there.

Shaking the water from his head, he leaned against the back of the tub closing his eyes, feeling his years, wishing he could talk of his experiences to his cousin. Discussing events had always been the bright spot in their relationship established long ago in their formative years. Though younger, Darcy had been keen to be in Richard’s company, both able to share what they could not to others.

It had been a year of disturbing discoveries. First to find out that his older brother, Hal had a secret life. Not only had he been keeping a mistress over the last few years but one who had children which Hal was supporting. And now Darcy was acting strangely as though he too was harboring some secret.

Something is bothering Darcy, but I now sense he cannot share himself with me as he once did. But why?

His thoughts were interrupted.

“Sir?”

The valet had returned with a manservant holding a kettle of hot water, and Richard realized how cold the water had become. He shook his head saying, “no, thank you.. I think I am already a shriveled prune.”

Richard rose to be toweled down by the servant, and helped into his robe once more. Richard frowned. Back in his room he dismissed the valet with the assurances that, “a military man must have the ability to dress himself.”

“Yes, sir. Very good, sir.” The valet departed without another word.

After dressing, Richard gazed upon his reflection in the mirror and readjusted his still askew neck cloth, frowning at his several unsuccessful attempts to right the knot.

Perhaps I am able to dress myself, just not properly! Maybe I was too hasty about relieving the valet!

Still fidgeting with the tie, his thoughts came back to Darcy and Elizabeth’s mood, still wanting to dispel his nagging sense of foreboding.

I will be out of their company before long investigating this land venture for father, and perhaps upon my return they will have warmed to me.

Richard knew Darcy would be of invaluable use in the matter, but he would not think to have Darcy away from Elizabeth at this time of her confinement.

Surely before my departure Darcy will allow me ask what I am to take note of and then report back what I have found out upon my return. Perhaps it will even divert his mind during this stressful time and therefore I may be at least of some aid to them both.

Richard smiled now, having his plan ready to put into action, and at last satisfied with the angle of his tie. Smoothing down the wrinkles of his coat he departed the room to have his repast below in the breakfast parlor. He was surprised by the absence of the others of the household, and asked the servant pouring his coffee, “Am I the only one yet up?”

“No, sir,” the servant replied removing the tops of the chaffing dishes for Richard to view a sumptuous meal he had not partaken in for many months. “The master has already breakfasted and is out with Mr. Withers supervising one of the spring plantings, taking Miss Georgiana with them at her request to distribute clothing to the tenant children.”

Richard was impressed by both his cousins’ diligence to those they deemed under their care. “And Mrs. Darcy? Does she remain in repose above stairs?” Richard remembered how Elizabeth could always be found wandering the countless paths between Hunsford cottage and Rosings Park.

“The mistress is still abed as far as I am aware, sir, often now taking her breakfast above stairs.”

His military instincts could not help but pick up on the worry that even this servant had of his mistress giving Richard the impression that she was perhaps ill.

“She is unwell?”

The servant thinking he had overstepped his place merely answered the Colonel’s question with honesty. “Not to my knowledge, sir. She is just…” here the man actually blushed at thinking so personal a thing of his mistress.

Richard smiled as he finished the sentence. “…great with child and tires easily?” The servant merely nodded.

Richard tried to disarm the embarrassed manservant. “Of course. How stupid of me not to realize such. We bachelors are the last to know things of this sort.”

“Will there be anything else, sir?”

“No, no, thank you.”

“Yes, sir, very good sir.”

Sipping his coffee, Richard was somewhat placated in the knowledge that the entire staff at Pemberley seemed to be stressed over their mistress, and perhaps this was all he had been sensing from Darcy on down to the lowest groom.

They are all merely worried and are hoping for a fruitful outcome.

Actually feeling more at ease now with this assumption, Richard took his leave after breakfast to the stables where he saddled his horse and rode out over the pleasant domain of his cousin’s Pemberley.

The next night after supper Elizabeth mentioned of her feeling tired again and desired to retired earlier than the night previous, but requested that Darcy return to entertain his cousin. Georgiana spoke up then of requiring some time to pen several letters she had been intending to send and also wished to retire to her rooms. Darcy escorted both ladies above stairs.

When he returned, Darcy found Richard busy with a pool cue in the billiards room. Remaining silent, Darcy leaned against the door jamb watching his cousin dispatch several of the balls with adeptness of long practice. Sensing his being watched, Richard knew instinctively who it was without needing to see and remarked nonchalantly while dispatching another ball, “loitering in the threshold doesn’t become you, Darcy.”

Richard banked a shot off the side to ricochet into one ball that dropped into the corner pocket with a loud crack. Darcy entered further into the room removing his coat and selecting a cue. “I hardly call it loitering, Richard. I would prefer you say I was merely observing your person.”

“Observing? Has my person so altered that you do not recognize your own relation?”

“No,” Darcy answered choosing his words. “Not so much in outward appearance, but you are changed in subtleties.” Darcy took his turn knocking the next few balls in the pockets before missing. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“No, not at this time, cousin,” Richard said decisively, using excessive force to have the next ball slam into the side pocket. His eyes viewed the table rather than make contact with those of Darcy. Missing the next set up, he made a face as Darcy took control of the game. Leaning on the felt-topped table, Darcy aimed his cue ready to shoot when he paused, his dark eyes glancing at his cousin.

“You can tell me anything, Richard, in total discretion.” Richard stared back in silence.

“There are some things no one should know of, no one should talk of.”

Darcy wrinkled his brow and let go his cue to skillfully drop the ball into the side pocket, watching the white ball tap another to cause a third to drop into the corner pocket to end the game. Throwing his cue down angrily, Richard was silent as Darcy retrieved the balls into the rack for the next game.

“There is nothing I can relate to you, cousin that would do you any good to know it.”

“But would it be of help to you to speak of it? If not to me, then someone of your own choosing, perhaps another in your regiment-”

“We do not speak of any of the missions afterwards to anyone after we are de-briefed. It is simply not done.”

“I see.” Darcy began racking the remaining balls without making further attempts to have Richard enlighten him of what was weighing on his mind, and merely handed him his cue once more.

“Your break.”

Richard sighed and grabbed the cue and without much attention sent the white ball careening into the grouping with them flying in all directions but none falling into the pockets. “Damn, I am usually much better at this game.”

Darcy peered at the table remaining silent as he set up shot after shot to sink every ball on the table.

Richard was impressed. “You have improved since last we played.”

Darcy racked up the balls again that they begin another game and shrugged. “There was quite a lot of time this winter when Georgie practiced piano and Elizabeth napped.”

“She is well then?” Richard tried to keep his voice neutral, trying to gauge whether Darcy would now tell him truly if it were not so.

“She is well, Richard.” Darcy’s reply was a simple statement, his voice even, but when Darcy refused to return his gaze Richard knew that there was something that worried Darcy, something he did not wish to say more of, especially when he added, “does she not appear in good health?”

“Yes,” Richard admitted with a charming smile, “most robust and quite…large!”

Darcy returned the smile at Richard’s joke, and admitted, “She has been rather…uncomfortable of late.”

Wishing to keep the conversation light Richard quipped, “And with still a month to go, you will be hard pressed to have her contented.” When Darcy continued to shoot, making no reply to Richard’s incessant jesting, the hairs on the back of Richard’s neck rose.

Clearly something is wrong.

“Darcy?”

“I feel it is inappropriate to speak of her in this manner,” Darcy clearly acted embarrassed about their joking of Elizabeth’s appearance at this stage of her confinement. It had taken Richard a full minute to recognize Darcy’s deflection had been so skillfully done that only one trained in the arts of espionage would see through the subterfuge.

Well played, Darcy.

Raising his glass in salute Richard merely said, “let us then drink a toast to the remainder of Elizabeth’s confinement, that it be…tolerable.”

Darcy raised his brows at that particular turn of phrase and silently raised his own glass, sipping the warm liquor. Richard had downed his entirely and then confessed, “I am quite tired out watching your improved game, Darcy, and will bid you a good night.”

“Yes, of course, Richard, good night. I shall see you in the morning.”

“Bright and early, cousin.”

Richard waved his hand over his shoulder knowing Darcy was watching him depart with a wary eye. The master of Pemberley was at a loss to know how to ease his cousin’s mind of what he now suspected Richard had experienced during his last mission that had so altered him, but without the benefit of being able to speak of it Darcy shook his head in dismay.

Richard lay on the bed re-reading letters from his father regarding the land investigation in which he was involved. Finally putting them aside on the night stand next to the shortening candle, Richard used his fingers to snuff out the flame as he settled into the comfortable bed coverings. He sighed trying to relax in the most peaceful place he ever remembered being, Pemberley, but even its effects could not forestall what would soon occur when sleep overtook Richard…and the nightmares of the war began.

Suddenly he was propelled into the battle, fighting once more amid deafening cannon fire, bullets whizzing by his head, screams of the wounded and dying. Richard was standing next to a downed mount, sword drawn slashing savagely at oncoming French soldiers. Every face including his was grim. Blood and dirt smeared on his uniform and cheeks, not his blood but that which had splattered him from soldiers of botharmies. A pause in the fighting gave him leave to take a few ragged breaths of sulfur air and gaze about him at the devastation nearby, all the blood and bodies, both whole and not, but strewn apart, broken and moaning.

Then the drums sounded and the scene changed to a town square where villagers lined the street to cheer the execution of a traitor, jeering at the woman being dragged to her death, her wrists bound, her skirts whipping about her as she tried to pull from the captor’s grasp, begging for mercy and pleading her innocence. Richard watched helpless as she was drug and pushed up the stairs by a few of maddened crowd, jeering and calling for her to be guillotined.

Unlike the aristocrats who went to their deaths with refined dignity, this young woman would not be silenced, and kept professing that she had done nothing wrong, had not been guilty of any crime, that she had been an innocent bystander in the midst of a crowd, merely singled out at random by the vigilantes as an example. Never had anyone professed so soundly against the futility of her death, but this woman would not be gainsaid and continued to profess her innocence so vehemently that a few in the crowd became sane again, and wished to stay her execution.

But they were shouted down by the rest of the vengeful mob and she was laid on the pallet, and tied down, her head placed in the block. Her last breath was used to shout her innocence before the blade came down to silence her forever.

A hush fell over the crowd at her demise as many wondered how her immortal soul would be damned to hell by her refusal of guilt and the wish for the Lord Almighty’s forgiveness at her moment of death.

The vigilantes sent up a roar of approval, cheering the executioner, and pulled the woman’s two young children up the scaffold, determined that the entire family pay for this treason. The two boys looked out at the crowd, their faces in shock at seeing their mother so brutally killed, not knowing that their fate was sealed with hers. Removing the now headless corpse, the executioner’s aid roughly grabbed the elder brother and threw him on the pallet, forcing him down as the boy was tied.

When his frame was shoved forward and his head set in the block, he began to squirm and screams to be freed. They had to force him down to keep him in place. Before the shocked crowd the blade came down swiftly, and the child died instantly.

There was silence.

Then the wails of the younger brother pealed through the silence as terrible as a death knoll.

They had just murdered…a child!

Richard bolted up from his bed, his mind tearing itself away from those screams as sweat poured off him and he tried to take breath into lungs seared from the sulfur of cannon fire and musket shot. Looking about at first he knew not where he was. Then the pleasant fragrances of spring in the country surrounded him, engulfing him in its peaceful tranquility and shelter.

Pemberley , I’m at Pemberley.

Calming now Richard swallowed, breathing again with more regulation. Rising, he stumbled to the wet sink and splashed his face over and over with the icy water. Leaning against the sink, both hands grasping the cool marble top, he drew several deep breaths to settle his heart from racing. It took him several more minutes to become completely recovered from his dream, and he gazed out the window at the growing dawn, deciding that sleep was no longer welcomed. Wiping his face and hair of the droplets, he went about getting dressed in the graying light.

*For more information with this form of execution, here are a few sites. Whether more humane than being drawn and quartered or hung where the victim would linger to suffocate if he had the misfortune not to have his neck snap when dropped, the fact that the guillotine was flagrantly overused during this time by those in authority says a lot about man’s willingness to destroy life as opposed to support it.
http://www.magazine.magnus.se/artikele.asp?artikel=giljotin
http://www.napoleonguide.com/guillotine.htm

Steam was escaping from the nostrils of Darcy’s favorite stead, nuzzling his nose against his master’s pocket. Darcy gently caressed Zeus’s neck, his sleek black coat shining in the growing light. The animal heard Darcy’s soft admonishment, “No sugar cube yet, you clever devil, not until you perform.” The horse’s insistence was answered by Darcy relenting, pulling the cube from his jacket pocket to feed Zeus. “I have spoiled you, haven’t I?”

“Just as you will do your own child, cousin.”

Darcy did not even turn around at Richard’s remark, not surprised to find him in the stables this early. “That remains to be seen, Richard.”

Richard patted Darcy’s stead, admiring the handsome beast, worthy enough to be a cavalry mount. “I would have been proud to ride atop him in battle.”

Darcy nodded in agreement that Zeus was of such noble lines as those trained in the art of defending its rider amid the enemy. “No doubt at one time he would have performed admirably, but I fear he is now far too old to be much use to the army.”

Richard smiled disarmingly. “But not too old for a morning ride.” With that Richard walked to the next stall to greet his own horse. “Hello, Boots, you old war horse, how have you fared in this lap of luxury ?”

Darcy could not help his own smile at Richard’s rapport with his animal that had been his constant companion for these past five years, keeping him as safe as any cavalry mount could. Both silently saddled their own horses, enjoying their camaraderie as in days of old. Walking out of the barn leading the animals, they mounted beyond the corral, the horses eager to hurry down the path, each with a competitive nature shared by the cousins.

Richard spurred his mount first with Darcy close behind, both soon at a gallop trying to outstrip the other through the meadow and beyond, over hedges and fallowed fields, dirt clods flying behind. The two were abreast now for most of the race, each urging his mount for more speed until finally they reached the ancient oaks to signal the end of the race. The horses were reined in to a walk; both snorted at not being the victor, each stallion reluctant to give way.

The cousins, however, though competitive, were also reflective about the way neither had let the other win. Richard was older and a natural rider. Darcy was taller and athletic, and had always been determined to become an accomplished horseman. Each had their talents, and had exchanged the title of victor over the years. Today both seemed content at the draw. They cooled the mounts with their leisurely walk through the tall grass of the far meadow.

Darcy tried to gauge his now recalcitrant cousin. “It is good to have you back again, Richard. All your family was worried about you when you were ordered to the Continent.”

Richard did not reply, knowing he could never tell anyone that he had been to France to rescue an aristocrat and his family sympathetic to the Crown who had aided the English during Bonaparte’s reign of terror only now to be despised by his own countrymen. Trying to get them out of the county before they were arrested and guillotined had been harrowing to say the least. No one must ever know where he had taken them lest their lives still be in danger.

The life of a soldier is a lonely one.

Merely nodding, Richard in truth did not wish to be reminded of all the carnage of innocents by ferocious and bloodthirsty vigilantes who took delight in torture and misery that he had witnessed during this last mission and that had affected him more than any previous ones. Instead he gazed out at the beauty of Pemberley renewing itself before his eyes and remarked, “while aboard ship I gazed out at a most beautiful sight, the slate blue color of the English Channel. It is good to be home on English soil again.”

Darcy nodded, understanding the pull that one’s home had on the heart. He knew how Pemberley pulled at him each time he left it for business. Just then a covey of pheasant was startled to flight by the movement of the horses. Darcy and Richard both reined in to watch as the birds again calm, hiding once more in the field grass. “There should be good sport this spring. We could schedule a hunt while you are here, Richard-”

“No,” Richard quickly discouraged. Then his voice returned to a normal level and he added, “I have had my fill of…sport of late. Perhaps the next time I return.”

“Of course, if you wish.” Darcy was now certain something was troubling Richard to have him refuse to hunt his favorite game and display his expert marksmanship. This nagging feeling of Richard being burdened by some unknown event made Darcy reluctant to share what he wished to confess regarding his marriage to Elizabeth.

Instead, they leisurely meandered back to the stables talking of the earl’s health and the weather, each harboring in their hearts what they could not bring themselves to disclose to the other.

Chapter 20c

Posted on Saturday, 21 May 2005

Before supper was announced Darcy and Elizabeth came downstairs to have her sit in a chair by the fire. A servant called Darcy away to have him speak for a few moments with the steward regarding a condition of one tenant’s fields. Kissing her hand with his promise to return shortly, Darcy exited the parlor. After his departure Richard made his appearance having changed his more casual dress for dinner attire. Elizabeth, he noticed tensed at his approach though she did well to hide it.

“Although you do your regimentals proud, upon my visit to Kent I thought you looked equally acceptable in evening attire, sir.”

He noticed her mischievous smile from Kent was back. Richard smiled and bowed, his training telling him of her ruse to casual ease. Taking Elizabeth’s hand and kissing it, Richard sat in the chair next to hers using all his charm to give her relief from further anxiety.

“Do not be uneasy in my presence, Mrs. Darcy, for my cousin has chosen you as you have him. In all his life I can truly say I have never seen him as content as when his gaze falls upon you.”

Staring at him, Elizabeth did not know what, if anything, to admit to him, his being a person whom she had taken an instant liking to at Kent, and had at that time felt him trustworthy. She pondered whether it would be best if her husband would rather choose to speak to Colonel Fitzwilliam on the matter that seemed a barrier between them now.

Richard could see her uncertainty and shook his head. “Mrs. Darcy…Elizabeth…at Kent we got on quickly as close acquaintances. I had hoped at the time you and I would have shared something more had not Darcy’s heart already been captured by you.”

Unbeknownst to either of them Georgiana had gained the doorway, but upon hearing Richard’s words she frowned, and waited, ease dropping on their further conversation that was beginning to confuse her exceedingly.

Elizabeth began to speak but he prevented her. “What I am trying to convey is that…I accept his choice. He is a good man, the best of my family. It fills my own heart to know how happy you have made him, so you need not be uneasy in my presence for fear of any true jealousy on my part.”

“Thank you,” she replied not able to hold his gaze, blushing at his gallantry. “I have been very fortunate indeed in my dealings with your family.”

Elizabeth then met his gaze, and he thought perhaps he had succeeded in his attempt to give her peace.

Georgiana felt a prickling on the back of her neck and she turned to find her brother behind her, eyebrows raised at her behavior reminiscent of one of Elizabeth’s younger sisters. She silently straightened up and gazed at him.

His voice was calm in his admonishment. “Shall we enter now or do you wish to linger more?”

In a great impression of Elizabeth, Georgiana raised her own brows and bit her lower lip, merely nodding, accepting his arm.

By week’s end dinner seemed to be as some part in an elaborate play casting Richard in the role of charming relation, and his family portraying those in a masquerade, not whom they seemed. Georgiana was the only unsuspecting one truly happy to see her older cousin with her sincere affection for him bordering on hero-worship. Like her brother in her eyes Richard could do no wrong.

When he had been out of the country during the conflict with France, Georgiana received several letters from her Aunt Rebecca filled with worry for her younger son. They caused Georgiana to cry at the thought of Richard being killed while at war. Until he had gone off for this last campaign she had not realized how much she depended on his and Fitzwilliam’s counsel and guidance, more so than any other members of her family. To lose him would be a devastating blow to her development, one she did not know if she could survive. Now to have him back safe and unharmed, and visiting Pemberley was a relief for her young heart.

All is well now he is home.

She had no idea of the turmoil that Richard had gone through as he acted the pleasant older cousin role, talking of innocuous trivia while his head was filled with fields and meadows where he and his men were entrenched, ill prepared for the onslaught of Bonaparte’s juggernaut. He thought since he had already seen combat he would be immune to the devastation and mayhem even with these young recruits, but the hardened French soldier had proven their determination in the face of the British and for a brief time Richard was in the midst of a maelstrom of fighting where many a good man fell dead beside him. It was due to sheer luck and the excellent timing of the British navy’s cannon that he could organize the retreat to a higher advantage thereby saving a good portion of his platoon to continue on the mission he initially sent to accomplish.

Upon his return to England after the peace was declared, Richard found it difficult to turn his mind away from re-living the atrocities he had seen while there, leaving him more circumspect than ever before in his life, seriously reflecting on his priorities that he had only now begun to question. Finally acknowledging his duty to his family might become paramount to his duty to King and Crown, Richard wrestled with what responsibility he owed his parents after years of ignoring them. True, his older brother, Harold (Hal) was to inherit the earldom and subsequent properties, but his parents had never intended that he remain single or without means of his own, and had always argued with him on more than one occasion for him to be more serious about plans for his future.

His revelry was interrupted by Georgiana requesting of him any amusing antidote he could recall while away as if he had been on holiday, her little innocent face beaming up at him. All he could think was of heads and body parts being blown off his fellow soldiers, dust flying and sulfur smell from the musket shot and cannon, screams from those dying beside him, dirt and blood, everywhere blood. He swallowed and drained his entire glass of wine trying to recover his equilibrium.

Then he heard it, that soft melodious voice calling out to him from a distance. He turned to see Elizabeth’s warm face asking him something.

“Richard, what is your favorite flower? Surely you would have seen a great many on your travels. I am no expert, but have taken an interest in expanding the gardens near the manor and wanted your opinion of choice.”

“Flowers?” He stared at her in his stupor as his mind began to shift. All the morbid scenes began to fade, being replaced by the images of meadows filled with abundant colors of wild flowers and fields of spring azalea and early daffodils. He continued to stare at this amazing woman who sensed his reluctance to convey any of what he had witnessed whether innocuous or not, and proceeded to have his thoughts filled with more pleasant images. With her simple request she had brought him back to a more tranquil setting of home and Pemberley

How does she do that with such ease, to take a person from one place to another with but a sentence or two? Her arts of manipulation are excellent indeed.

At last realizing that he was the center of attention by the whole table he cleared his throat and tore his eyes from hers repeating himself to gain time to think what to say. “Flowers, Madam?”

The servant refilled his glass, and he brought it to his mouth to sip. “I have never thought about it. My mother has roses which are very fragrant, and when on horse I ride through meadows filled with buttercups and poppies.” He smiled as he wondered at actually having a favorite, and finally chose. “Irises are my favorite. They are lazy flowers that do not awaken until the others are well on their way, opening to show their myriad of colors when others are fading.” He sipped more of his wine watching Elizabeth smile and nod while Georgiana giggled quickly stating her own opinion.

“I like daffodils and daisies. They are early risers and all mostly yellows and whites. Fitzwilliam, what is your favorite?”

Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam answered in tandem. “Roses.” They smiled as they gazed at each other.

Georgiana laughed. “How do you know that, Elizabeth? He must have told you.” Elizabeth shook her head. Darcy’s stare was intense upon her causing Elizabeth to blush at such attention.

Georgiana continued, “Well since Elizabeth has guessed yours, brother, can you not guess her favorite?”

Darcy stare turned to his sister and said one word with certainty. “Lavender.”

His sister gazed now at Elizabeth who nodded smiling. Richard watched with eyes of admiration yet regret at she who had eased his mind but still harbored some dire secret behind a mask similar to the one Darcy wore, but she does so with such adeptness Richard knew he could not trust himself to let his guard down while around her.

How adept she is at subterfuge, fooling all but the most astute.

Having now recovered, Richard returned to his charmingly harmless self asking questions of his own to his young cousin. “And what new works of fiction have you had time to read this winter, Georgie? Surely you have read about Udolpho.”

Blushing with embarrassment to have been found out of her having read works of the likes of Mrs. Radcliffe much to Darcy’s dismay, the young girl dropped her eyes to her plate. “Yes, and I…enjoyed it very much.” She sipped water from her glass stealing a glance at her brother who shook his head but was smiling. “I am only happy with the knowledge that she does read other works of literature more redeemable, Richard.”

A chuckle came from Richard as he casually turned to speak to Elizabeth again. “And how are you adjusting to life as the mistress of a great estate?”

Elizabeth freely admitted with a natural modesty that Richard found almost convincing, “being the mistress of so large an estate as Pemberley is a daunting task that will require years for me to become accustom. As I was not born into such a life, it will take some time getting use to.” She felt Darcy squeeze her hand under the table.

“Do not let her fool you, Richard,” Darcy crowed, proud of the accomplishments of his wife, adjusting easily into her role. “She has taken up the challenge as a duck to water, a natural leader and keen negotiator to the various tasks that fall under her authority. I am prodigiously proud of her.”

“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth replied as though offended. “You will have your cousin not believe a word I say if you feel the need to contradict my pronouncements.”

All went quiet at the table. Georgiana could not believe that Elizabeth would make so bold an accusation to her husband in company. Richard and Darcy stared at Elizabeth for the few seconds it took for both to simultaneously recall her similar complaint while in their company at the piano one night at Rosings. To confirm her jest, each saw her brows rise imperceptivity coupled with an ever so slight smile she was trying to suppress. Darcy kissed her hand and smiled saying, “I am not afraid of you.”

Elizabeth began to laugh with a genuine ease for the moment as all three recalled the pleasant memory. Georgiana was astonished when they all continued to chuckle.

“I say, of what are you all talking? I want to be included in the conversation!”

So similar was her request to the demand of Lady Catherine to ‘have her share in the conversation’ at Rosings that it brought forth renewed gales of laughter by the three now much to the consternation of Georgiana. “What is so amusing?”

Darcy, being the first to recover, related the whole of the incident and of Elizabeth’s accusation of his scandalous behavior at the Meryton Assembly ball that she playfully teased him of it at Rosings, and of Richards’s challenge to her to relate the particulars to him, and then of their aunt’s intrusion into their merriment. With Darcy’s attempt to imitate his aunt, Georgiana was reduced to giggles as she now recalled with understanding Elizabeth’s gentle teasing of Fitzwilliam that she often used to bring him out of his reserved and brooding nature.

Richard saw the admiration of his young cousin for this woman who could be so pleasant that one could quite forget what she was truly about and appear to have kept expertly hidden.

A remarkable lure for an enchantress.

Richard wanted desperately for Darcy’s sake to distrust his own instincts, to believe Elizabeth was all she seemed, what he thought of her when first they met at Rosings. It was at that moment that she made a fatal error. Darcy had turned to make reply to Georgiana, as Richard was observing Elizabeth. For but an instant he saw Elizabeth’s face display all the emotions she was feeling, dismay at hiding some secret from him, sadness that she felt he could not be trusted, but mostly fear of the secret being discovered by anyone. All was played out to him in the time it took her to blink, and then it was gone again, hidden behind her dancing eyes once more. But Richard had seen it all when she thought herself safe to drop her guard. His shoulders slumped at the realization that he was most likely correct in his assessment of her.

D--n you, Elizabeth, what are you hiding from us? From…your husband?

When her gaze came to rest upon him again, Richard readily played his role of the charming welcomed cousin. Raising his glass in salute of her charade; she misinterpreted it as approval of her jest. He kept the conversation light and congenital, with small talk that was utterly forgettable as it was insignificant. Richard could easily play this role well, and had done so countless times of late to the point where even Elizabeth began to believe he suspected nothing, that whatever secret she harbored was safe.

After the pleasure of having Georgiana and Elizabeth entertain them in the music room, Richard asked Darcy if they could have a moment in the study. He said ‘good-night’ to both his cousins and Darcy’s wife, and removed to the study to await Darcy’s promise to join him after he had escorted his family to their bedchambers.

Once inside her rooms Elizabeth seemed more on edge, her heightened senses now distrusting Richard’s easy façade at dinner. Darcy sat her down on her bed, and caressed her cheek.

“I still feel an unease with him, Fitzwilliam.”

“I know. There is definitely something on his mind.” He sighed. “Richard appears ready to converse with me. Now you are retired he might be more forthcoming with what has truly brought him to us. Rest easy, my love. I will soon return to you.” He kissed her then left after he summoned Martha’s aid to help Elizabeth dress for bed.

On the way to meet Richard in the study Darcy could not but feel the guilt at not making Richard privy to what had happened on that day at Pemberley. It was not a question of trust, but rather of Elizabeth wish for the fewest number of people to know of it. To this day only Jane, her father, and Aunt and Uncle Gardiner had known of it along with Mrs. Reynolds and two doctors.

No one else need know Elizabeth told Darcy, hoping for her family’s reputation to remain intact for the sake of her other sisters’ chances of marriage. Darcy agreed with her logic and obliged her to keep her calm for her well-being and that of the child. With her need to repeat her plea to Darcy when Richard arrived, she could only say that something about him was different than when she had known him at Rosings, some subtle change that caused her to feel uneasy. Darcy, though loathe to admitting such a thing of his cousin, now trusted emphatically Elizabeth’s heightened instincts, and would never go against them. Darcy, too, had noted the change in Richard and was unduly cautious to confide in him before he had talked to him at length. Reaching the door to his study Darcy hesitated for only a moment before he entered.

Although Richard could not relate to Darcy the particulars of many of his missions behind enemy lines, he nonetheless wished for his cousin to know some of what was troubling him, and to assure Darcy that he himself could still be trusted with any confidences that were troubling or worrying Darcy about his wife.

Now alone in the study Richard tried to assure Darcy of his loyalty. Handing him a glass of port, Darcy motioned him sit beside him by the hearth. Richard noted Darcy did not partake in anything other than wine at supper.

“Have you succumbed to total sobriety since I last saw you, Darcy, or are you awaiting the special occasion to imbibe? Surely Elizabeth would not mind a glass of your excellent port.”

“In truth I have lost my taste for port and brandy of late, not that Elizabeth would be concerned. I think even you would agree I have consumed more than my fair share during the past year.”

Richard snorted. “I would agree you drank your way through yours and my share, Darcy! Perhaps it is well that you have slowed your consumption to leave more for me.”

“Richard, please excuse my impertinence, but can you now divulge your true reason for being in the area? Not that you are ever unwelcome here, but…Pemberley is not exactly a short ride from London. Is there something amiss you have yet to relate…or must it remain a military secret?”

Richard gazed at his cousin.

I should be asking you something similar.

Taking another sip of port Richard finally let out some of what brought him to his cousin. “Let me begin by saying that recently I have been made aware of my own mortality, that as a man I should not expect to live forever.” Darcy stared silently at his cousin.

Whatever is he talking about?

“This last campaign has changed you.”

“Yes,” sighed Richard. “Darcy, the fact is none of us knows when our time is up, when a stray bullet will strike one man down while leaving the next.”

Pushing aside for the moment his own nagging foreboding that Darcy was hiding something from him, Richard decided to allay his cousin’s concerns for his own well-being. “You have an advantage of me in some respects, Darcy, of having grown up without one parent for much of you life, and then virtually orphaned just as you were coming of age. Your philosophy of life has been colored by those events whereas my own have not…until the last campaign.”

Darcy’s brows wrinkled deep in thought as he listened to Richard’s view of the disadvantage of his idyllic childhood with both loving parents to care and support him. Only then did Darcy realize that Richard had never talked much of how the war’s devastation could change a man’s outlook on the tenuousness of life…until now.

“What have you seen that you had not before, Richard? Surely you have witnessed your comrade’s death at the hands of the enemy, have been responsible for countless other acts which caused death, some by your own hand.” Darcy stared expectantly at his suddenly reflective cousin whose views about the aspects of warfare he had up to now neglected to deem worthy of mention.

Richard stood up silently walking to the window staring at the prospect, sunset bathing the lovely park in pinks and purple hues. He knew he could not tell his cousin anything significant of the mission or even what he had witnessed for fear of his relating too much. Instead he spoke of what was now before his eyes. “It is so beautiful here, Darcy. All my life coming to Pemberley I never tire of being within its borders, knowing it as a haven to replenish not only the body with its growth of crops, but a place of reflection to clear one’s mind and cleanse one’s soul with its pristine natural ruggedness.

Darcy nodded silently, and could not but agree with his cousin’s assessment. Every time he returned to Pemberley Darcy too was awed by his home, felt its pull on his soul, to have the spirit of the land absorb all his sadness, returning to him as the master of Pemberley a sense of contentment and peace. Save for that one day before he happened upon Elizabeth when his sadness had been most acute. It had been she then who had taken all his sadness from him, and had given him such joy.

Richard teased Darcy with, “ would you, perchance, ever consider selling Pemberley to me?”

Darcy raised his brows at the audacity of such a request.

“No, no,” Richard held his hand up continuing in a more serious manner, downing the remainder of his port in his glass. “But I have saved enough to begin a quest for an estate of my own.”

To this statement Darcy felt real astonishment. “Truly? I had not thought even a Colonel’s salary was such a sum to enabled one to become part of the landed gentry. What does that say of our government?”

“The government and the crown will never be slighted by the likes of me, Darcy, however insignificant they deem the salary of their soldiers. No, despite my often times cavalier attitude with my fellows, father has taught me a bit of frugality to the point that he was given a portion of my funds over the years to invest, and would like my joining him now in that field.”

Surprised by this disclosure Darcy replied, “I had no idea you had the least interest in such an endeavor, Richard. You may have any assistance I can provide to aid you in your venture.”

“For that I shall be extremely grateful, Darcy, for though I can hardly call myself a babe in the woods as regards my own experiences in the world, I admit to some innocence when it comes to delving into the world of finance.”

“What do you and Uncle Henry have in mind?”

“There is an estate 20 miles to the west of Pemberley that has discreetly been put on the market. It seems that due to unforeseen debts and the estate’s not being shielded by inheritance conditions to prevent it, the family had been gradually reducing the income producing lands around the property to the point now that it can no longer be sustained.”

Nodding Darcy said, “Crawford’s.”

“You are familiar with the history?”

“Yes, it had been one of several I had investigated for Charles, rejecting it for its very lack of annual income I felt was required for the growing family he was sure to have with Jane.”

“I need to know what you feel of its acquisition.”

Taking but a few moments to assemble his thoughts Darcy began. “The manor house is in need of restoration and the grounds refurbished to their formal beauty. There is much work that needs to be done, but not an impossible task for an ambitious owner with funds enough and who has no need of a supplemental income from tenants as Bingley required.”

“What estate did you recommend for him?”

“The Blakely manor. Those tenants wished for an owner who would take a keen interest in their affairs, and Charles was up to the challenge.”

Running fingers through his hair Richard tried to imagine the same young man he had often met in Darcy’s company, and wondered at Darcy’s complete confidence of the man whom Richard remembered being apprehensive and indecisive since coming of age. Darcy had always taken care to keep the young man clear of entanglements to the point that Richard knew not if Bingley could ever make a decision without first conferring and then deferring to Darcy’s recommendations and said as much.

“Bingley, up to a challenge? I would never have guessed it so. How remarkable.”

Darcy smiled at this attitude that at one point had been true of Bingley. “Yes, it has taken him some years, but he has finally come into his own mind. I am glad that I had a hand in his maturity, but it is his own decisions that have made him a man.”

“As I recall, you damn near saved his life on many occasions, Darcy. You are the caring elder brother figure in his life.”

“As you must also be with many a young lieutenant fresh with a commission and little field experience.”

Richard quipped back, “Ah, yes, but that would consist of my merely having them keep their heads below the ramparts to avoid musket shot!” He refilled his glass.

Darcy stared at his cousin, both knowing Richard had done much more to ensure the lives of many under his command, but like every soldier would not talk of such deeds to anyone other than sometimes with those who had also seen combat. The conversation continued from the digression.

“So Crawford’s is not a sound investment?”

“If your only intent is that of restoration and perhaps resale to a wealthy entrepreneur for a summer home in country, it could turn a profit within a few years. If, however, you wished for a permanent home, you would need to find an outside revenue in which to maintain its upkeep. I assume you would one day retire from the service with your pension reduced from your current income?”

“Of course.”

“Do you have other investments as a form of income?”

“At the moment, yes, but I think those interests would have to be liquidated for an amount large enough to purchase and refurbish the estate.”

Silent for the moment, Darcy’s business sense mulled over several possibilities for additional income he had considered when he searched for an estate for Bingley. It was Richard, however, who made a suggestion to solve the lack of renewable income. “I had heard tell of there being producing lands to the south of and adjacent to Crawford’s, currently owned by an even smaller estate that more than amply maintains it.”

Darcy nodded. “Yes, Sir Winthrop is elderly and all his sons have passed before him, and he has no entailments to the property. His manor by comparison to Crawford’s is but a cottage. The man was quite frugal in his youth and saw no need to expand his house for his growing family. In retrospect it is now easily maintain for only himself with a few servants.”

“Do you think he would be at all averse to leasing the lands to me for a year? The extra income would give me the capital I would require for Crawford’s.”

Silenced for a moment Darcy frowned as he thought of the man in question that he had known most of his life and how he would view such an offer. Then raising his brows and stated, “that is a possibility. Sir Winthrop is as shrewd as he is frugal. He will drive a hard bargain, but he is fair and honorable in all his dealings.”

“Then I will go to him with my proposal.”

“I shall write a letter of introduction for you to take to him. It may encourage the defense of the plan. Sir Winthrop and I have been friends for many years, and I aided him when his last son was taken ill in France, and arranged to have him returned home to be at his father’s house where I am sorry to say he died of consumption.”

“He was a soldier in the last campaign against Bonaparte?”

“No, he was a civilian distributing aid to both sides.”

“Oh,” Richard rolled his eyes, not impressed with people who aided the enemy in times of war, but Darcy defended him.

“He was a humanitarian, Richard, something the world needs more of.”

Richard only nodded, not in agreement of Darcy’s views, but with the philosophy that whether in peacetime or war, there are those who see devastation and are compelled to act to alleviate it.

Darcy had already left that topic for a more pressing matter. “If you are truly interested in negotiating the purchase of Crawford’s, you will need that steady income.”

Richard nodded. “Cannot Sir Winthrop lease the lands with an option that I buy them after a number of years? That way Crawford’s will be secured, and even if I have to mortgage the estate for a while, I will eventually have the property free and clear. Would Winthrop be open to such a sale? How old did you say he was?”

“When last we met he had celebrated three score, but was as spry as a man half his age. More likely he will outlive us all.”

Richard thought of the many young men he had seen fall in battle, never to grow old. He now replenished his glass now with brandy. Darcy watched his cousin drained half his glass as he stared reflectively out the window.

Darcy continued. “That was a few years ago. Perhaps…he is now ready to hand off the day-to-day duties to someone younger, someone he could…mentor until satisfied with their abilities to ensure the constant renewal of the productivity of the lands.”

“Animal husbandry and crop rotations?”

Darcy was impressed. “You have done some research. Yes, it is essential to alternate crops to keep from depleting the soil and thereby continuing crop production year after year. I myself have studied the problem with Elizabeth’s extensive reading on the subject. We have together created an elaborate plan for our own tenants to keep their percentages high, enabling them to better their lives.”

After so relaxed a time discussing his future, Richard’s nagging foreboding returned with Darcy’s mention of his wife. “She is well, then?”

Darcy swallowed giving Richard an interpretable stare that hid all his emotions that caused the hairs on Richard’s neck to rise.

Darcy would admit only, “it has been a troublesome confinement. As you know Elizabeth was a most robust lady prone to long walks commiserating with nature. To have her so waylaid by our family’s defect has been difficult for her to accept, especially when she lives within the most spectacular park imaginable. I have taken her around the perimeter in the carriage that she not be too depressed by her being curtailed of the enjoyment of her favorite activity of walking.” He paused before adding softly, “She has been so obliging, acquiescing to my every demand of her to ensure the life of this child. I only wish I could do more to ease her dejection at not being able to roam in all the loveliness of Pemberley.”

Darcy’s sincere wish somewhat mollified Richard’s own unease that they were keeping something from him while in their company. “She must realize that is but little over a month before she delivers, and when she recovers she will have renewed strength to wander all over Pemberley.”

His glass was midway to his lips when he saw it, his cousin’s pensive stare into the hearth to have Richard’s suspicions confirmed. “Darcy?”

“Yes,” Darcy replied too quickly. “It is as you say. She will be delivered within a month’s time, and then all will be fine.”

“And…you are sure she is well?”

“Yes, as much as I can be at this point,” Darcy repeated, staring now into the face of his trusted cousin. “All is well.”

Richard knew then. Darcy had just lied to him, lied to his face, but there was nothing more Richard could say of it.

If you now feel you can no longer confide in me, cousin, then Elizabeth must have had some hand in influencing your distrust.

Sighing, Richard nodded in defeat at the conclusion of this line of questioning and reverted back to the previous subject. “If you could write your letter to Sir Winthrop, I will have the servants pack my bags for the morning’s departure. Most likely I will be gone a week, not longer than a fortnight, and will relate what news I have discovered upon my return.”

Darcy nodded relieved by the change of topic. “I will write directly and have it ready in an hour’s time?”

“Very good, Darcy. I am profoundly grateful for all you help in this matter. One day perhaps I will be able to repay the favor with any support you may need.”

“That isn’t necessary, Richard. You are my family to which I remain loyal.”

“As do I, Darcy, as do I.”

Each stared at the other, unable to say more. Richard rose to depart the room to give Darcy time to compose his missive.

“I will leave you then to your letter. Again, thank you.”

Darcy only nodded as he took paper and quill to begin his first draft, ignoring Richard’s continued gaze. Richard bowed slightly at his younger cousin who seemed much older now with all his responsibilities. Departing the room, Richard wondered what so plagued his cousin, and why after all these years of so close a relationship would Darcy now refuse to confide in him. Though hurt at this sudden estrangement, Richard could not but think it was due to Elizabeth’s influence that he be given such a cold shoulder, and began to wonder further if his first impressions of her playful coquettishness were not a ruse for something more sinister, more ambitious than he had at first perceived. All his training had brought him to suspect such devious behavior and deflection when he asked himself certain questions that one did not wish answered.

I will yet get to the bottom of this mystery…eventually.

As Richard finished dressing to travel south to the Winthrop estate he found he could no longer ignore such a foreboding that something was indeed amiss. He was hesitant to inquire further for fear they would become even more agitated with his insistence on knowing of it. Little did he realize that this morning would bring about more than he had bargained for. Having just alit the staircase nearest the solarium Elizabeth’s moans caused him to hurry. Walking quickly into the glass enclosure he found her sitting alone, trying desperately to stay quiet amid the extreme pain, tears filling her eyes. He immediately knelt beside her, and she grabbed his arm.

“Elizabeth, where is Darcy?”

“He…he was called away for a moment.” She gritted her teeth, her lips tightly shut to make as little noise as possible with such a strong grip upon his arm he knew not any women capable. Richard was very concerned that she was in the midst of delivery.

“Let me go fetch him.”

“No, do not leave me!” She took several deep breaths with many minutes passing before her pains began to subside, until they finally stopped for the time being. Her grip on his arm slackened for which he was grateful. She continued to take deep breaths for some moments trying to remain calm.

At last, he suspected what she would wish not to disclose when he asked, “Do you have such episodes often?”

Georgiana had left on an errand to the music room, searching her sheets of the aria that Elizabeth wished them to practice that afternoon. When she heard Richard’s question and the distressed tone in his voice, Georgiana stopped at the doorway to hear Elizabeth’s reply.

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, only a few during the past week, but this is the first time it has become too painful to endure without making noise enough as to attract anyone’s attention.”

Richard gazed at her and began to reason out some of this mystery of hers and Darcy’s unease even with Darcy’s assurances of her health.

This makes no sense unless…

His experiences during the war, occurrences unacceptable to be spoken of in polite society, flooded his mind, his witnessing death and dismemberment of his fellow soldiers as well as non-combatants all desperately seeking shelter from the mayhem. In the midst of all the stressful circumstances were women giving birth, acting much the same as Elizabeth that Richard was certain she was very near her time.

A confirmation of his suspicions occurred in a most unlikely place. Having lately been to his favorite brothel Richard found one of the ladies being with child even with all her precautions. She asked if he would mind her less than robust appearance due to her inability to keep food down.

Richard remembered Elizabeth’s similar appearance on her wedding day, so pale and thin that at the time, Richard had wondered about her suffering some illness, he only now made the connection, wondering if his suspicion were correct. He had to make certain.

“This is not too early for this child to be born, is it?”

Georgiana gasped at the question, awaiting Elizabeth to soundly refute him.

How could he think such a thing of Elizabeth? Tell him it is not true!

Richard was confronted with only silence, as Elizabeth stared into Richard’s eyes as proof of his accusation. His voice was low as he charged her with further disgrace.

“You were with child before your marriage to Darcy.”

Georgiana closed her eyes and leaned against the wall barely able to draw breath.

This cannot be! Elizabeth could not have betrayed Fitzwilliam. She loves him! Tell him, Elizabeth! Tell him he is wrong!

Again silence was the only answer Elizabeth gave, but Richard could tell by her shallow breathing and her distressed expression that he was correct in his assessment of the situation. Though she became more distraught with the growing silence, his own countenance became stern, his demeanor cool replacing his concern. He shook his head at his own naiveté.

I thought with all my familiarity with such women I would be as immune as Darcy to all their tricks. Then here you come, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, with your pretense of mischievous innocence as a lure to fool us both with you charms.

“A truly stellar performance, if I may say so. I never thought you capable of such artifice.”

His esteem lowered with each moment he gazed upon her. Even her tears threatening to spill did not soften him, or illicit sympathy from his now hardening heart.

Aunt Catherine was correct after all in her warnings of such cunning of your allurements. How we were both taken in by your perceived virtue. Now to have Darcy snared in marriage to a woman whose behavior is so suspect.

Elizabeth could not but whisper her corroboration with his belief. “You know.”

His voice was cold, his reply a hiss. “Yes.”

“How? Did someone tell you?”

“No, the staff is loyal to their master, Mrs. Darcy.”

”Then how can you possibly-”

“Let me just say that my having been in war enough I have been privileged to witness more than most in high society, to make me aware of the true nature of the world.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have been trained to notice the smallest hint of deceit in others, and both you and Darcy succeeded in gaining my interest by your behavior when I first arrived, interest which was further peaked when Georgie offered up your intention to deliver this child well over a month early by my reckoning. When she also stated that Darcy had the doctor sequestered nearby so early I at first wondered if you were still ill as my Aunt Anne was, or that the child were so. Having now witnessed this episode reminded me of a recent event at a residence I frequent to put me in mind of your appearance at your wedding, compelling me to consider other possibilities. Today’s event is a confirmation that this child will not be delivered much too early if I but count back the extra weeks prior to your wedding.”

Silence reigned once again correctly verifying all his opinions of the situation. Then he heard her entreaty.

“…you will not…(she swallowed)…are you going to…?”

The sneer on his face showed his contempt. “Keep your secret? Do I really have a choice in the matter, Madam? I would never sully my cousin’s good name.”

“But if you could work all this out, could not someone equally as clever but less scrupulous…”

“Be able to count back the months and gossipof some impropriety, perhaps thinking Darcy a fool to be cuckold?*”

She gasped too shocked to respond to what he was suggesting. Knowing her actions had been dissolute she looked away that he not see the hurt she felt at the harshness of his statement.

“Mrs. Darcy, my cousin’s lifetime of respectability is beyond reproach. No one would believe him capable of such scurrilous behavior. While you remain in his household, you too will be safe from scandal.”

The coldness of his words and his aloof demeanor were enough to let Elizabeth know just how low Richard now regarded her. She swallowed, inwardly crying at the loss of his esteem, but at least she knew he would continue to support Darcy, that no idle report would come by him to his family and friends.

At least Fitzwilliam will be safe from reproofs by the likes of Lady Catherine!

Richard did give her some glimmer of hope when he smirked, “Even you can be saved from much gossip with the known fact that offspring sometimes are born early, and with your especially troublesome confinement so public, perhaps the general populace with actually believe it, Madam.”

She could not raise her eyes to his remark, but kept her lips closed tight that he not see them tremble.

“Are you well enough now that I be permitted to leave you to seek out your husband, Mrs. Darcy?”

Taking several deep breaths to hold back tears that threatened to overflow, she merely nodded.

He can no longer stand the sight of me.

His patience having long since dissipated, Richard left her with but the merest bow, without the sincerity of his former respect for her, but rather only the appearance of it. As she watched his determined departure her resolve strengthened, determined that he remain unaware of all that had occurred that day.

I cannot but regret my own reputation being left in shambles if it means saving my husband’s good standing with his cousin.

So incensed was he that Richard did not even notice his little cousin silently sobbing against the wall, her world now in shambles.

How could she do something so deplorable to Fitzwilliam? He loves her so.

Trying to take deeper breaths, Georgiana wondered how she should act now that she knew about Elizabeth’s deception of a most beloved brother.

Should I tell him what I have learned? Richard promised Elizabeth he would keep her secret, but what of me? How would Fitzwilliam react to such deceit? Would he again take to drink or…worse this time?

Straightening up her shoulders, she wiped the last of her tears. Georgiana decided she too must keep this terrible secret for her brother’s sake.

I would not have him revert back to that awful state for anything! I will pretend that all is well, just as before. Neither Richard nor Elizabeth will ever suspect my knowledge of their conversation.

Like her brother had often done, Georgiana masked her feelings behind the façade of indifference, a calm exterior to hide her inner turmoil.

*The cuckoo bird lays its eggs in other bird’s nest, kicking out the original eggs to leave the owners to tend the cuckoo’s offspring. Talk about shirking your responsibilities!

Chapter 21a

Posted on Friday, 15 July 2005

Few words passed between himself and Darcy as Richard departed early the next morning with his promise to return within a fortnight. He was off to view the estate of the elderly Sir Winthrop that Darcy had recommended to him.

Winding his horse in a slow manner west seemed appropriate to his depressed mood. A venture of this kind which should have given his cousin great enjoyment to see Richard now able to join him in similar pursuits of becoming one of the landed gentry, but was now made less so due to this fissure of distrust that lay between the them.

Now with Elizabeth at Pemberley I know my relationship with Darcy will never be the same. He will hereafter side with his wife on every point before that of my own.

Although Richard had truly wished to confide in his cousin on more of what plagued his troubled thoughts from this last mission, and more importantly of how Elizabeth had betrayed them both, Richard knew he could never voice his opinions without being always guarded.

The closest relationship I have ever had in my life where free opinion was paramount is now dead to me, as dead as many of my comrades left on the soil of France.

Richard sighed thinking his only salvation from Darcy’s wrath to the incident between himself and Elizabeth had been the very lady’s intention not to relate what had transpired to her husband.

More secrets between myself and Darcy. D--n you, Elizabeth, for being so conniving.

He put off those depressing thoughts when he finally entered the gates of the Winthrop Estates, wishing only in the hope of striking a bargain equitable to all concerned. When he happened upon a house but a quarter of the size of Pemberley, Richard ambled his horse up to the front entrance. The rather elderly butler ushered him directly into a sunny parlor to await the master. There was barely time to gaze about the cheery room before an even more elderly gentleman entered and bowed. His white hair refusing to stay in place, and a weathered hand affixed it once more when he straightened.

“How do you do, sir. I am Sir Percival Winthrop.”

“My name is Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, Sir Winthrop. I am the cousin of Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley.”

He handed Sir Winthrop his letter of introduction from Darcy, the man who had been instrumental in returning his son, Donald Winthrop from over seas. Sir Winthrop seemed desirous to welcome any relation of Darcy’s, and bid the colonel sit while he broke the seal to read the letter from his young friend from Derbyshire. After only a few moments Sir Percival Cynic Winthrop was even more amiable in knowing better this soldier of the crown, inviting Richard to take a stroll about the gardens that he gain insight into why the young man had chosen Winthrop Estates to set his hat. They walked about the garden, and Sir Winthrop shared his opinion that Darcy was the best of men, alluding to the Darcy family’s handling the sensitive negotiations involving Sir Winthrop’s son. Richard listened attentively to yet another act of kindness for which Darcy was known.

During their short stroll to tour Sir Winthrop spoke of his family that now consisted only of the one remaining relation, that of his granddaughter. Either Darcy’s letter was a glowing report or he must have made a good impression on Sir Winthrop, for Richard found himself being invited to stay at Winthrop Estates while he remained in the area. Richard was more than happy to accept the hospitality of this elder gentleman who opened his home to a virtual stranger.

“That is most kind, sir. If you are certain it is of no bother, I am greatly obliged.”

“Think nothing of it, Colonel. You are most welcome.”

When the two returned to the house they came upon Sir Winthrop’s granddaughter, and he made the introductions. Lylith Dooriya Winthrop was a slight thing who seemed not much older than Darcy’s wife, Richard guessed around four and twenty, and her dark hair was done up in a similar country style. Her seemingly shy demeanor immediately brought to his mind his younger cousin, for this young woman had yet to speak a word as she curtseyed before him. However, when she rose from her curtsey and leveled her eyes upon him, Richard was taken aback by their color, a rich deep blue.

The color of the sea.

Richard recovered quickly and bowed. “I am happy to make your acquaintance, Miss Winthrop.”

“And I yours, Colonel.”

Her voice when she at last spoke was equaled to that of Georgiana’s, soft and lyrical, but without the shyness Richard associated with his cousin. This juxtaposition intrigued him.

Lily had refreshments served in the parlor to give the gentlemen a little more time to converse before they went to change for dinner. Sir Winthrop spoke of his five sons who all served in the military, and of a few of the naval battles that one son had been involved. Richard smiled pretending rapt attention of a sea battle that occurred so long ago, wondering anew of just how old this gentleman was.

Darcy mentioned Sir Winthrop as being at least three score, but if he had sons that served during the war with the Americans, would that not make him quite a bit older?

Miss Winthrop, in the meantime, kept her own counsel, and only made remark when asked to verify a certain point or date that her grandfather was unsure. Under Richard’s observation, she appeared a confident woman but not inclined to meddlesomeness, and although she spoke little, what came from her seemed both intelligent and witty.

At a servant entering to announce that the colonel’s rooms were ready, Miss Winthrop rose from her chair. Both gentlemen did likewise, and Richard bowed before parting company to follow the servant out the parlor door.

“I look forward to dinner, Sir Winthrop, Miss Winthrop and again thank you for your gracious hospitality.”

“You are most welcome, Colonel.”

As the door shut on the colonel, Sir Winthrop asked. “What do you make of him, my child?”

Lily gazed at the closed door. “He seems a nice enough sort of man, grandfather, but there is something different about him that I had not seen in any of our neighbors, some…sadness perhaps?”

“Yes,” Sir Winthrop agreed. “Tis what war does to most young men.”

“Does the sadness ever go away, grandfather? Are they never capable of happiness again?”

“Time heals most wounds, Lily, but no, the feeling never leaves them completely. Most men return to their lives, filling them with the pleasantness of loved ones and the business of living which overshadows past events and enables men to find joy in their lives once more.”

“Is that why he has come here, grandfather, to try to heal?”

Sir Winthrop sipped his tea. “Actually, he is in the market for an estate, or rather lands that produce enough to enable him to procure an estate of his own.”

Lily eyes widened at the thought of Winthrop in any part being sold away. “Grandfather! You would not seriously consider selling your lands?”

The elderly man remained calm. “Mr. Darcy has sent him here that I might judge for myself if he would be a capable master, be his mentor, educating him in the art of land management in the hope that I could be persuaded to sell some of my lands with the knowledge that they would be well cared for by one of my choosing, one whom I had trained to my ways.”

Lily’s teacup clattered on the saucer. “I thought I was the one whom you had trained to care for the lands as you would wish, grandfather.”

The old man sighed. “When I die, all I leave belongs to you, Lily. You know this, but in the days to come you will need someone nearby who is trustworthy to aid you with the estate.”

“Your steward is-”

“Not as old as myself, but he has become elderly these past few years, and has asked that we begin to seek someone younger to train to take over his duties.”

“Do you believe this colonel has the capability to that kind of responsibilities?”

“I have no idea of what he is capable, my dear, but Mr. Darcy seems to have faith in his cousin’s abilities, so I must take that thought into account while becoming more acquainted with this young man to judge for myself if young Mr. Darcy is correct.”

“I never thought I would hear you speak of parting with any of the Winthrop lands.”

“The lands are more than adequate to provide for the Estate, and overseeing its care has become a job for one younger than I can now manage, and-” He placed his hand before her to prevent her intent to interrupt him. “…and yes, you are a capable manager, Lily, but to have that burden as well as the management of the house is too much even for one as capable as you to handle.”

“Grandfather, I can handle the household with our very efficient housekeeper-”

“Who is also getting on in years, and you will need to find a replacement before long.”

Lilly sighed. Only recently she had a similar thought when Mrs. Johnson talked of having her own daughter, Julie, who have grown up on the estate and learned much from her mother, take over the management of the house. In the meantime the girl had found employment at a neighboring estate when her husband had been given a promotion to head gardener there, and the owners asked if she would consider joining him as their housekeeper. It grieved Lily to know that her own housekeeper’s protégé had been persuaded to depart Winthrop, but knew that Julie wished to be closer to her husband. Her grandfather was correct.

Soon I will have to search for a housekeeper as diligent and reliable as Mrs. Johnson and Julie.

“Why does the world as we know it have to change, grandfather?”

“Everyday the world is a little different than the one previous. Change cannot be stopped, my child.”

Lily sighed again, and smiled lovingly. “Of course, you are right, grandfather, and so we must enjoy the slow changes while we may.” He smiled back and nodded.

She helped him rise and together they made their way above stairs to dress.

Richard had little time to change before dinner was announced by the same elderly servant who escorted him to his room, and who ushered the colonel in evening attire into a smallish dining room adequate for the house. The servant pulled a chair out beside Sir Winthrop’s at the head of the table across from the one occupied by Miss Winthrop. With so small a family, Richard reasoned that this arrangement was preferable by the two rather than shout from one end of the table to the other.

The simple meal of stew, one such that Sir Winthrop could tolerate at his age, was ladled out from the large tureen set on the sideboard. Homemade breads and rich cream butter accompanied it along with fresh fruits and vegetables that had ripened in a hothouse and a rich merlot filled his glass. Richard, being a military man, used to simple meals relished at how delightful so mundane a meal as rabbit stew could taste with the combinations of certain spices and herbs.

“This is truly delicious. I commend your cook.” Richard helped himself to another slice of the still warm bread while the servant refilled his bowl. Lily smiled at the complement.

“Cook had the recipe for years, and on his dying bed gave his secrets to me as a grateful devotee of his culinary arts on the condition that I continue to care for my grandfather.”

Richard could not keep from teasing. “Secrets as well guarded as any military ones, no doubt?”

Lily smiled and lowered her eyes, but admitted laughing, “I am afraid I did promise to guard all his recipes with my life, Colonel.”

“Well then, with so solemn a pledge I expect no amount of torture would rend them from you.” They all chuckled and Richard felt an ease here where there was no pretense or duplicity. No secrets, just two people living their lives.

How refreshing the change.

What little he had gathered from Darcy regarding the family and his own short conversation with her before dinner, Richard surmised that Miss Winthrop had been home-educated by her grandfather. From their exchange he could also tell that she had a sharp mind and a dry wit, unafraid to speak her mind much the same as her grandfather. He thought it odd that one so independent of mind would willingly forego any hope of a family of her own to care for an elderly relation, but he kept his own counsel on that matter.

For her part Lily seemed brightened by the unexpected arrival of this young colonel who she reasoned to be another clever person with whom she could converse while he remained in the area, much as she had done during their visit to the Darcys over Christmas and through the many letters exchanged by herself and Elizabeth.

Time will tell if he is truly as clever as his tongue purports.

The next morning Richard awaken early having not slept well, and he dressed quickly to be outside for a early stroll before breakfast to clear his head of the unwanted dreams that plagued him still. With the quietness about the house he surmised that except for the servants the others were not yet about, though upon his return from the stables to check on his horse, he happened unexpectedly upon the mistress.

“Miss Winthrop!”

“Colonel! I had not known you were about this early.”

“As are you. Is this your usual habit?”

“Yes, both my grandfather and I usually awaken early, and I confess during spring I am especially prone to early morning walks.”

“And what of Sir Winthrop? For one so advanced in years, is he one to forgo the activity as walking in the early hours?”

“I assure you, Colonel, my grandfather, though not disposed to walking this day, is more than capable of keeping up with me when he so desires it. You will soon see.”

“He asked last night that I be available later in the morning. Until then, I am free to converse with you, Miss Winthrop.”

They continued to stroll down the grassy path along the stream near the house with Richard encouraging her to speak about her life at the estate in general and of the remarkable longevity of her grandfather in particular. The man in question, she stated, was busy with his steward at present. Richard nodded.

“I must say, Sir Winthrop is spry for one so elderly. My cousin told of his being around sixty, but I think he is much older, is he not?”

“My grandfather has reached five and seventy, sir.”

Richard whistled and then quipped while casually swatting at a large bee that found them an interesting diversion, “did you expect him to survive to such a ripe old age?”

Lily turned her head, her dark blue eyes staring back at Richard for a long moment, taking his jest seriously. “He is so precious to me, sir. I never thought of his merely surviving but rather of how long I will have the pleasure of his company.”

“He is that dear to you then?”

“I cherish him every day, Colonel.”

“You could not be parted from him even if someone made you an offer?”

Now even Lily with her sheltered upbringing knew such a question was not a proper one from a gentleman to a lady, especially not of one whom he had so recently made an acquaintance, but he had raised her ire and she was unflinching in her loyalty. “I would never wish to leave his side for any other, sir.”

Richard saw the gold sparkle of the sun reflected in the flint blue of her eyes with her response. He had obviously struck a nerve.

What a spirit she possesses, but that cannot be the whole of her story.

He pressed her. “Not even should you fall in love and wish to marry?”

Lily thought a moment before she replied. “If such an occurrence ever comes my way, colonel, that man would have the great fortune to take possession of not one but two Winthrops to enjoy.” He was surprised at this pronouncement.

How can one so young be so adamant to add the burden of an elderly relation as part of her dowry?

“You would never leave him behind?”

She sighed in exasperation. “As I have repeated, no, I would never leave him.”

His men knew Richard’s habit of testing them to their endurance. For some reason yet unknown to him, Richard felt the need to do the same with Miss Winthrop, to provoke her that he might know her limits. For once he ignored his own instinct not to press a lady’s growing vexation with him, and stated flippantly, “I admit he is a true character with all his stories of his sons. I wonder how much truth there is in all his embellishments.” Her eyes widened in indignant surprise at such a statement as he knew it would.

“To what are you referring, Colonel?”

“That of all the exploits of his sons during combats, of course! He talks as if he had sired the entirety of the king’s forces, but I wonder if he speaks so only to impress me.”

Lily’s eyes then were upon him, staring so steadily now into his that it made Richard feel quite uncomfortable, thinking she had judged him and somehow found him lacking in her regard.

After a pause Lily’s soft voice broke the silence between them. “There are journals of my uncle’s exploits to ensure the authenticity of my grandfather’s embellishments.”

He held her gaze, regardless of her judgment of him at the moment. “Indeed, then I must have to take your word, Miss Winthrop as to his trustworthiness.”

“No, sir, you do not.”

“Beg your pardon?” Her icy tone was a confirmation of her pique. He had pressed her too far, yet she remained civil in her response.

“You are free to read through their journals, Colonel, if you doubt the veracity of my grandfather.”

Richard sensed she was not done with him, but tried now to smooth her consternation with his charm. “That is most kind of you, madam. If there is time, I might give way to their perusal.”

“And you need only spend but a few pleasant moments in my grandfather’s company in order to know him as a man of his word, sir. Good day to you, Colonel.”

At that Lily turned without so much as a curtsey, leaving Richard standing alone in the path to muse over what she had said and how his charm had no affect on her ire. He smiled, not thinking of her obvious disapproval of him from his apparent slight to her grandfather, but rather that he had learned much of her in this battle of wits. He continued watching her hasty retreat and shook his head.

Someone will have to possess a great deal of stamina to tame such a creature.

He remembered the color of her eyes as they flashed her vexation of him in the sunlight.

Deep blue with flecks of gold when she is angry. Charming.

His days were filled with meetings with Sir Winthrop and his steward as well as rides around the estate to certain of the tenants which kept Richard quite occupied. The nights were less so, however. Sir Winthrop had a routine of retiring early as did his granddaughter. This left Richard without many forms of entertainment to bide his time before sleep finally took him.

Having been left to his own devises for many a dull night, Richard decided to avail himself of the offered journals penned by those Winthrops who had served in the King’s army and the navy. Ringing for the servant to retrieve some from the library, Richard settled into his room each night to scan them. He professed little hope of their being accurate to the facts as were in his history lessons, perhaps with the flair of something Mrs. Radcliffe would pen.

They will most likely be as imaginative as any novel I could acquire!

These pages, he soon realized, were not embellished with superfluous twaddle, but rather were factual accounts of events from the past that the writer, as a military man had experienced, none of which Richard was old enough to have taken part, but they kept his interest nonetheless. He was riveted when reading of this sailor’s deeds while aboard the frigate in a sea battle during the siege of Gibraltar ending in 1783. The facts were interspersed with the writer’s impressions of the battle and the aftermath... The salt spray mixed with the smell of powder from the cannon, the buffeting of the waves upon the ship while the battle raged on land between the combined forces of French and Spanish troops, sometimes in close quarters of hand to hand combat from which only the good Lord saved me from a gruesome death. I was assured that each day the fort would be overrun, until after three long years of hardship, the siege finally ended with a British victory.

Richard could relate to the sailor’s vision of close combat and the fear that at any moment his life would be forfeit.

I can attest to those same feelings, and worse.

He closed the diary, and blew out the candle, and was grateful when he awoke the next morning of having not been visited by any dreams in the night.

The next time he had the time free to read was not until several days later. Sir Winthrop had taken him into the fields to examine the soil and to talk with some of the nearby tenants about which crops were grown the previous year. With the exchange between the owner and these renters, Richard began to understand the importance of replenishing the soil by planting alternating crops over the years as well as having an agreeable relationship with those who farmed the lands, similar to that of a colonel with those under his command, but there was a fundamental difference he readily saw. A soldier depended on his leader to save his life, not merely save his crops. He sighed.

I have so much to learn. I wonder if Darcy’s faith in me is sound to think I have the wherewithal to manage what he has done so ably all these years?

When Richard had retired that night he picked up a journal of another son’s exploits, beginning the logs from one by the name of Lesley Leigh Winthrop, a sailor who seemed involved in more naval battles than the others, and had been involved in, among others, the Battle of Camperdown in 1797. This battle that was contemporary to Richard’s own time in the army. Richard was now fascinated to read the point of view of the sailor about the sea battle between the English combined with the Dutch ships against the French fleet while wondering why he could not recall anyone by that name if the man had been so ubiquitous in battle.

Surely I would be apprised of the exploits of this particular Winthrop who carried such zeal in combat.

Intrigued now by a family of military men, many nights thereafter Richard stayed up beside a shortening candle re-reading those accounts and now another son, a soldier this time and his impressions of his time fighting during the war of America’s Independence that lasted until 1781. Soldiering was something Richard could relate to without much effort although his own few missions of late were so clandestine in nature they would never see pen and paper. Snuffing out the candle, he crawled deeper in the bed covers, his mind a jumble. Slowly he began to realize what this particular family had sacrificed with all the sons performing their duty to crown and king.

Five sons born, all five gone now never to grow old as their father. What were the odds?

Unlike the peaceful nights since he had come to Winthrop, his dreams returned in full fury with a most disturbing one involving his own brother, Hal.

The brothers were standing in the crowd, in the same one in the town square in France, with all the throng crying out for blood. The henchman was on the platform, his face covered by a mask that no one know his identity, his hand ready on the handle that would drop the blade. Tied up and lying prone in the block was the woman, but, no, it was not the same as in all his other dreams. This was a gentlewoman in splendid dress and sobbing as she awaited her fate, and staring out at them beseechingly, hoping for Hal and Richard to rescue her.

Hal screamed her name, “Sarah!” as he tried to make his way through the crowd before she was executed. Richard somehow knew then that the woman was his brother’s mistress, and so he too, pushed forward against the mob impeding his path. Both men were prevented from making much progress by hands keeping them at bay. Suddenly there was a scream followed by silence as the blade rang true, and then more screams as her young son was placed upon the pallet to follow her in death. Screams came now not from the gallows, but from Hal as the blade began its so descent again to have another’s life silenced.

Richard bolted up from the bed in a cold sweat, breathless as though he had been running. He racked his hands through his hair. “G-d in heaven! Will I never be free of these bloody nightmares?”

Reaching over to the nightstand, he fumbled for the bottle of whisky he had purloined from Darcy’s stores at Pemberley and took a long draft from it, allowing the warm liquid to sooth him, and he rubbed his fevered forehead against the coolness of the glass, calming finally but not wishing to attempt sleep again. Seeing it near dawn, he rose and dressed quickly and headed for the stables.

The long morning ride Sir Winthrop had scheduled the night before was just the relief Richard needed from the night of disturbing dreams and his lack of rest. It fortified him to be in the saddle, to be active and useful. If Sir Winthrop was surprised by Richard’s eagerness by being already up with his horse saddled, he did not remark on it. The purpose of the ride Richard soon found out was to inquire after one of the tenants whose family had lately been ill. The farm lay at the furthest reaches of Sir Winthrop’s estates, and would take some time to reach by horse.

When they arrived, the master was happily informed by the tenant’s wife of their complete recovery due in part to Sir Winthrop’s intervention with herbal medicines that were suggested by his housekeeper, and some of the cook’s particular blend of chicken broth.

“Oh, master, the herbs sent by Mrs. Johnson did the trick sure enough. The youngins’ were up and about in no time, sir. Mr. Charsley is already about the fields this morning, sir. God Bless Mrs. Johnson, I say.”

“I will relay the message to her, Mrs. Charsley.”

She was so grateful for all the help given by the master that she wanted to give him a fresh loaf of bread she had made that morning. He dismounted his horse and humbly accepted it though he knew with her growing family she had little to spare. “Why, I thank you, Mrs. Charsley. I will enjoy your delicious loaf on my way back.”

“You are more than welcome to join us for a meal, sir?”

This he kindly refused with the excuse that he had other stops to make, and he re-mounted his horse to prevent the woman making a fuss over him. Touching his hand to his hat he then bid her a good day.

Richard noted that Sir Winthrop treated all his tenants with the dignity they deserved, and wondered if he himself had always treated those under his command with the same regard. They walked their horses on in silence for a bit until Sir Winthrop finally asked, “You are wondering why I accepted her offer though she has little to give?”

“The thought had crossed my mind, sir.” Richard knew the answer the man would give even before he spoke it.

“She has her pride, and does not want to be given charity without a chance to repay the kindness with some gesture.”

“And your refusing to enter the house to share a meal?”

Continued in Next Section