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Chapter 18 ~ The Future Revealed

Posted on Wednesday, 9 February 2005

The next ten weeks passed quickly. David refused to leave for England until Susan's morning sickness had subsided. However, their delayed departure caused one minor problem. While the small inn in which they stayed had been sufficient for a short time, he was now unsure of the length of their stay. The morning after Susan's revelation to him, he arranged to rent a small, two story, stone home. Though the house was simple in decor, it was clean and more comfortable than the inn. The bedchambers were located upstairs with a small sitting room attached to the main bedchamber. Downstairs, the kitchen, drawing room, breakfast room, and servants’ quarters were outfitted with modest wooden furniture. The only drawback to the home was that the stone walls and floor made the home rather cold. However, keeping a fire blazing in the drawing room as well as in the bedchambers seemed to adequately heat the house.

After settling into the house, David busied himself by writing a solicitor in Lincolnshire. David wanted to purchase a home near the sea and city Susan loved. His letter to the solicitor was quickly answered. There was a small estate in Lincolnshire that was for sale. The previous owner had died without leaving an heir and the estate was to be divided between several families. The families could not agree on how the property should be handled and instead desired to sell it. It had been offered for sale for two years without anyone being interested in it. As a result, the solicitor believed he could purchase it at a low price. David made arrangements to buy it sight unseen. He had not informed his wife of his plans, but instead decided to arrange for the property to be readied for their arrival. It will make a wonderful surprise, he thought.

After ten weeks, Susan's condition began to improve. She was no longer as ill and the colour returned to her cheeks. The Fitzwilliams began to make preparations to sail. As Susan was upstairs preparing to pack her clothes, David sent for her maid to speak with him in the drawing room.

"Yes, Lord Wallingford?" Beatrice asked after curtseying to him as soon as she entered the room.

"I was hoping you could be of assistance to me," he whispered. "I have a surprise waiting for my wife in England. I have purchased an estate in Lincolnshire."

"She will be so pleased," gasped Beatrice.

"Yes, I think she will. However, I would also like to purchase some material for curtains and such while we are here in France."

Beatrice smiled, "That will be lovely."

"The only problem is that I haven't the first inkling what I should buy or where to purchase it. I was hoping you could help me."

"Yes of course my Lord. Anything for a surprise for Lady Wallingford," Beatrice said eagerly.

"If I give you some money, will you go into the village and purchase whatever you think she will like?"

"I would be happy to be of service," she said with a smile.

David quickly gave Beatrice more than enough money. "Thank you very much for your assistance. Why don't you leave now and be sure to purchase a memento for yourself as well," he suggested. "I will make your excuses to Lady Wallingford."

As soon as Beatrice left, David went upstairs to the bedchamber. "My dear, I gave your maid the rest of the day off."

"David!" exclaimed Susan exasperated. "Why on earth did you do that? Do you realize how many things she must pack before we leave in two days?"

David considered his answer carefully. He had no intention of ever lying to his wife, yet he did not know how to frame his response without giving her a hint to the nature of Beatrice's disappearance. "Well, the girl has worked very hard and I believe she wanted to go into the village to purchase some souvenirs of the trip. I think it was her intention to look at fabrics and the like," he said sheepishly.

"Yes, she has worked very hard. You were kind to give her the time away. I just wished you had consulted me first," she said after a moment.

"Yes, my love. I will from now on," he answered before giving her a kiss.

After a half an hour, something began to nag at David. Fabric is nice, but it isn't very romantic, he thought to himself. Perhaps I should go into the town and see what other surprises I can bring my wife. He went to his bedchamber and sought out Stevens. "Stevens, I must go to town. Do not leave and attend to Lady Wallingford until I return."

"Yes, my Lord."

As David arrived in the heart of the village, he felt a little sad to be leaving. While he roamed through the shopping district, looking for the perfect gift, he reflected on all that occurred there. He had learned he would be a father in Calais. He and Susan had often wandered throughout the town, discussing their hopes and dreams for the baby and the children to come. Yet, when he gazed at the Tudor style of the Church of Notre Dame, he smiled. It will be good to be in Lincolnshire with Susan. We will have a marvelous time turning the estate into our home. He searched for nearly two hours before the perfect present caught his eye. A small painting hung on the wall of a bistro that captured the town beautifully. In the foreground, some of the buildings near the water were portrayed. In the background, the ocean loomed with a colour so vibrant, he could almost hear the waves crashing. She will love it, he said to himself.

After convincing the owner of the bistro to part with the picture and then having it wrapped, he began to whistle a tune as he walked home with a light heart. Life is perfect, he thought. I think my surprises will make her very happy.

When David opened the door to his lodging, nothing could have prepared him for the sight he found. Susan lay face down, crumpled and unconscious at the bottom of the stairs. She was lying in a small pool of blood and it was still trickling from her lower lip and a cut on her cheek. David dropped the painting and ran to her. "Susan! Susan my dear, can you hear me? Please wake up," he begged. As he dropped to his knees to shake her, the cold from the stone floor seeped through his trousers. The floor is freezing. I must get her off of it! he panicked. He gently took her into his arms and carried her upstairs to the bedchamber. As soon as he laid her down on the bed, he began yelling, "Stevens?! Stevens, where are you?" David began to feel desperate, as his calls were unanswered until he heard the sound of someone entering the house. "Help!" he yelled. "Up here! Please help me!"

Within seconds, Beatrice ran into the room. "What happened?" she gasped.

"Get a doctor!" he ordered. Beatrice ran out of the room without a moment's hesitation.

"Please Susan. Please wake up," he cried while stroking his wife's cheek. "Please my dear." He knelt beside her bed and taking her hand within his, he began to pray earnestly. "Please Lord, please let her wake up. Please let her recover. If you must take one of us, take me instead," he sobbed.

Within a half hour, the doctor had arrived. David nervously paced outside of the bedchamber as the doctor and Beatrice attended the unconscious woman.

After spending thirty minutes examining Susan, the doctor emerged. "I have some bad news, my Lord. Her Ladyship is losing the child."

"Yes," David nodded. "I feared as much. And what of my wife?"

"She is not responding. She has lost a great deal of blood. The next several days will be important." After a pause, the doctor added, "I'm not sure she will ever recover nor am I sure she will ever be able to bear you children. Only time will tell."

Just then, David heard a noise downstairs. He flew down the stairs to see if Stevens had returned. He ran into the drawing room, to find his valet adding more wood to the dying embers in the fireplace. "Where have you been?" David boomed.

Oblivious to all that occurred, Stevens happily answered, "Hello my Lord. We were growing low on wood so I had to step out to go purchase more. While on my way there, I saw a lovely chocolate shop. I know how much Lady…"

"Never mind that!" David roared. "Why weren't you here?! Why didn't you obey my orders?"

"I am sorry," the valet said nervously. "I had not thought I would be so long. Is there a problem?"

David glared angrily at the man. He clinched his fists to prevent him from lunging at Stevens's throat. "Get out of this household right now," he seethed. "I never want to see you again."

"My Lord! I do not understand..."

David reached into his coat pocket and grabbed a handful of money. Throwing it at the valet furiously, he spat, “Here is your severance pay. Now leave!"

"Lord Wallingford," called Beatrice from upstairs, "Come!"

Bewildered, Stevens gasped, "What has happened?"

David did not answer him. Instead, he quickly climbed the stairs and went directly to Susan's bedchamber. As soon as he opened the door he saw her, lying on her bed. Her skin was very pale, almost ghostly. Her lips had lost most of their colour. The blood had been cleaned off of her face and the wound on her cheek was barely visible. Her dark hair was matted and laid plastered against her scalp. She looked more like a marble statue than a living human being.

David walked very softly towards her. A momentary fear overcame him that she had died, until he saw her take a shallow breath. He reached her bedside and took her hand within his. She stirred slightly at his touch. "There is nothing we can do but wait," the doctor whispered to him.

David nodded his head numbly as he watched Susan's every move. He studied every breath, hoping that she would wake up. From that moment, he sat by her bedside, without taking his eyes off of her. He pulled a small wooden chair over from the corner of the room and placed it next to her bedside. From his seat, he watched her body rise and fall with each breath. Occasionally he would reach out and stroke her hand or whisper into her ear. As the night grew late, the doctor went into the other room to lie down and Beatrice retired to her bedchamber to sleep for a few hours. However, David kept his vigil. By daybreak, he was weary. The tension had taken its toll and his body longed for sleep, but he would not allow it. I will not rest my eyes until she opens hers again.

Beatrice entered the bedchamber just after dawn and opened the curtains, allowing more light in the room. After opening all of the curtains wide, she came over and looked at her mistress's face. "Lady Wallingford looks much better. She has some colour in her cheeks now."

The dim lights from the candles and his tired eyes hadn't allowed David to notice that Susan's cheeks had reddened during the night. At first he began to smile at the sight, until a horrible thought came to him. He cautiously reached forward and touched her forehead. His eyes grew wide as he felt her burning skin. "She has a fever," he whispered. "Wake the doctor."

As soon as the doctor awoke, he came to Susan's bedside. "I feared this would happen," he said after examining the patient. "She caught a chill from lying on the floor. I am afraid that the cold ocean breeze freezes these stone houses and any length of time lying on them is not good. This further complicates matters Lord Wallingford."

David nodded his head. "However she will recover," he said in a resolute voice.

"My Lord, I cannot guarantee…"

"She will recover, and that is final," he commanded sternly.

Just then, Susan stirred. "Susan? Susan? Can you hear me?" he asked while clutching her hand. After several minutes, her eyelids began to flutter. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "Darling, I am here. Please come back to me."

Susan's mouth curled into a smile as her eyes began to open. "Of course," she said faintly.

"Thank God you have returned to me," David sighed.

The doctor looked over David's shoulder and smiled. "Welcome back Lady Wallingford. You gave us quite a scare."

"What happened?" she asked weakly.

"We do not know. I returned from my shopping trip to find you at the bottom of the stairs."

"I must have slipped. I was cold so I was going downstairs to put more wood on the fire. I sent Stevens out to purchase more logs, but I knew we still had a few." she said haltingly.

"Please Lady Wallingford. Conserve your strength," admonished the doctor. "There will be time for explanations after you have recovered."

With tears welling in his eyes, David leaned forward and kissed Susan gently on the lips. "Yes my love. Please rest."

Susan smiled weakly, and then slowly closed her eyes. After she was asleep, David rose from his chair and motioned for the doctor to join him near the far side of the bedchamber. "This is a good sign, is it not? She will recover," he said softly. He said it as a statement, but his eyes betrayed his anxiety.

"Yes, my Lord. Lady Wallingford waking is a good sign, but she is far from out of danger. Whatever this infection is, she must fight it. In addition, her body is weak from the miscarriage, loss of blood, and may have been damaged in other ways. I have no way of telling. The next several days are critical."

As David turned his attention back to Susan and began to walk back to his chair, Beatrice stepped forward. "My Lord, you have not rested since your wife took ill. I will sit with her while you rest."

"No, thank you," he said mechanically.

"My Lord, 'tis a good idea," added the doctor. "Your eyes are blood shot and they have large bags under them. You should save your strength. We will wake you if her condition changes."

"No, I want to be near my wife," he insisted as he sat back down on his chair. "I will not leave her."

For the rest of the day and on into the night, David kept his vigil. He stayed near her and spoke to her as she faded in and out of consciousness. Finally, late that night, the exhaustion took its toll and he dozed off in the chair. The first signs of light seeping in through the windows roused David from his sleep. He sleepily rubbed his eyes and looked at his wife. He reached up and touched her forehead and cheeks. Her face seemed even warmer to him than it had been earlier. He took her hand within his and kissed her fingertips lightly. "Please my dearest. Please recover," he whispered.

Beatrice and the doctor entered the bedchamber a little after dawn. Their haggard expressions betrayed their exhaustion. David rose from his seat and stood in the corner of the room, allowing the doctor more room to work. He watched carefully as the doctor began examining his patient. As he touched Susan's forehead, the doctor scowled. Slowly, Susan began to revive. "Hello," she said weakly.

"Good morning Lady Wallingford," he answered.

"David?"

"I'm here Susan. I will never leave you."

Susan smiled weakly and tried to answer, but could not.

"If you will excuse me, my Lady, I will speak to your husband," the doctor said with a bow. As he walked over to David, the look in his eye frightened David. "I'm sorry Lord Wallingford, there is nothing I can do," the doctor whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"Her heartbeat is not strong. I believe she has internal injuries and lost too much blood. She is very weak. It is a miracle she has lived this long. It won't be long now."

In shock, David turned to look at his wife lying on the bed. Even though the doctor was correct by stating she was feverish and very weak, he could not believe the news. How can my wife die? How can I lose someone that vibrant? he thought. He quickly walked over beside her and sat down.

"David," she whispered.

"Yes, my love. I am here," he said softly while holding her hand with his left hand and caressing her face with his right. Her face felt very warm to his touch as he stroked her cheek and struggled to maintain his composure.

"Promise me." she said before her voice faded to nothing.

"I will promise you anything..."

"Promise me that you will bury me here in Calais."

As David's eyes welled with tears, he answered quietly, "When you are very old and grey and have lived a very long time beside me, you can bury me here, then join me later."

"Promise me... It is here that I have known the greatest happiness of my life. I want to look over the ocean towards England and admire the view we cherished together," she whispered as a single tear fell from her eye. "I want to be forever on that spot over looking the channel where we dreamed what our life would be."

The tears started to fall as he protested, "You will not die until you are an old lady Susan. You will recover. We will have many children and be very happy watching our grandchildren grow up."

"Promise me that you will look after Sharon. She will be lonely without me... She quite adores you, you know. I think she envies me for catching the handsomest man in Europe."

"Shhh darling. Please don't upset yourself."

Susan's eyes took on a far away look as her whispering grew fainter. "She is quite right. I am the luckiest woman in all of the world. People go their whole lives without finding the happiness you've given me in the past six months."

"No my sweet. I am the one who is blessed," he choked, barely being able to get the sound out of his throat.

"I will love you for all eternity," she whispered as her voice faded away for the last time.

"I love you too," he sobbed.

As her eyes took on a vacant look and her breathing became shallower. After several hours, her breathing slowed and eventually stopped. The doctor stepped forward and placed his hands on David's shoulders. "I am sorry my Lord. She is gone."

"NOOOO!!!" he wailed while reaching forward and grabbing her limp body and pulling it to him. "Susan! Don't leave me!"

The cold rain fell down hard upon David as he stood on the grassy hill over looking the English Channel. Tears falling from his eyes intermingled with the rain falling from the sky. The wind mercilessly pummeled him, yet he noticed neither the wind nor the rain. As he looked down and stared at the new mound of fresh dirt, he could feel nothing but an overwhelming emptiness. It was his twenty fourth birthday. He celebrated it by burying his wife. A very small group had assembled with him for the burial; the priest, who conducted the funeral; the doctor, who had attended her in her illness; and Beatrice. However, after the ceremony, the others left to seek shelter from the storm. The doctor had cautioned David that he should come in as well, for fear he would catch a cold. However, David did not move. He could not bring himself to leave his wife's gravesite. Instead, he stood by her, watching his dreams wash away before him like the rain washing away the topsoil off of her grave. After he had stood by her gravesite for a long time, he reached into his pocket and took out his handkerchief. He knelt down and took a handful of the soft reddish brown mud from the top of the mound and placed it in the handkerchief. He carefully wrapped it, rose, and walked away.

As she had requested, he had purchased the land where she first told him that she was with child. They had often returned to the spot afterwards to daydream about the future. But now we have no future, he thought. And I am to blame. If we had only been wed in London instead of Paris, we would not have been here. If we had only returned to England sooner. If I had not taken such a cold house. If I had not taken a house with stairs. If only we had stayed away from the cold ocean breezes. If only I had anticipated the accident, none of this would have happened. I failed. It was my lack of care that killed her.

He wandered aimlessly through the streets until nightfall before finally returning to his rented house. There, Beatrice had been busy packing his and Susan's belongings. She had been a great help to him after Susan had died. She assisted in arranging for the funeral; writing letters to Mr. Warner and Sharon, Major Thomas Warner, and Philip Coglin; and had done her best to substitute for his valet, Stevens. Stevens had left the house shortly after hearing of Lady Wallingford's death and had not returned. As soon as David entered the house, Beatrice rushed towards him.

"My Lord, you are soaked to the bone!" she cried. "Get out of those wet clothes. I have laid out warm clothes for you on your bed. You mustn't catch a cold! I will make you a cup of warm broth immediately."

"I do not care if I catch a cold," David mumbled numbly as he went into the drawing room and plopped down on the sofa.

Beatrice smiled at him sympathetically. "Perhaps not. But my Lady would have been very distressed had she seen you acting like this. Please, my Lord. You must be well. We sail for England in two days and the trip would be more comfortable for you if you are healthy."

"I do not want to return to England," David sighed. "Susan is here. Our memories are here. I will not leave."

"But my Lord..."

"I will give you plenty of money. You shall return to the Warners in Lincolnshire. Please, take all of Susan's belongings with you. I am staying here."

Beatrice looked doubtfully at her master, but decided not to argue. He will be thinking more logically in the morning, she thought.

That night, David could not sleep. His room, the house, indeed the whole village was filled with Susan's presence. Without her near, his heart was a hollow shell. He needed to escape. Just before daybreak, he took one small trunk with some of his clothes packed inside, left a note for Beatrice with enough money for her passage and travel, and left. He went to a nearby inn and hired a coach to drive him to Paris.

As David drifted in and out of sleep, he snuggled against the warm, soft body that lie next to him. For a moment, he was at peace. Then the body moved, jarring him awake. -- The spell was broken. -- He was lying in another strange bed, along side another woman, with another hang over. A part of him wanted to will himself back to sleep were he did not know that the woman lying beside him was not his wife. But he knew it was impossible. He rose, deposited a coin on the table beside the bed, and left. He walked down to the Seine and sat down on the bench. The early morning breeze helped to revive him.

How many mornings have I done this? For how many weeks? he asked himself. In truth, he did not know. Since arriving in Paris, he had settled into a routine. He would rise in the morning and walk down to the Seine. He would sit on the bench were he first met Susan and stare at the river floating by. When the memories grew too painful and he could no longer sit and reminisce or when the throbbing in his head grew too loud, he usually proceeded to a tavern and began to drink. Most nights, he would drink until he passed out at the bar. Other nights, he staggered upstairs with one of the ladies and passed out in her arms. The women did not appeal to him, except for the one brief moment when he first woke up. He lived for that moment. It always occurred when he was not fully conscious. He would sense another body in the bed with him and for a brief instant, he thought it was her. For one glorious moment, he could forget the horrors of Calais and imagined his wife next to him. -- But then it always happened. -- He would wake up and realize emptiness of his life and his nightmare began again. The only variance is that every few days he would return to his inn to bathe and change, but that was his only diversion. The rest of the day, he drowned in grief or alcohol and frequently both.

The old David would have been appalled by his behaviour. The wallowing in grief, self-pity, and drunkenness would have disgusted him. He despised men who threw their honour and dignity away. However, after the death of his wife, nothing mattered. As he watched the people walk by, he contemplated how unfair life is. How is it that so many people with so much to live for die every day, yet I, who have nothing, cannot even catch a little cold? He laughed bitterly. He had taken outrageous risks with his health, walking outside in all sorts of weather. For nearly three months, he survived on a diet of little more than brandy and sometimes a piece of cheese or bread. Any other person would have died by now. Why am I so cursed?

After David sat by the river for several hours, he returned to his inn. The inn was not of the quality that he usually frequented. It was on the fringe of a seedier area of town. However, since he spent little time in his room, it served his needs adequately. As soon as he walked in the door, the innkeeper approached him. "Good afternoon Lord Wallingford."

"Good afternoon. What is it that you want? I paid for my room through next week," he growled.

"Yes my Lord, you did. However I wanted to inform you that you had some visitors this morning. Two men waited for you for several hours. However, they grew tired of waiting and said they will return."

"Who are these men?" asked David.

"I do not know, but they do not look like gentlemen," warned the innkeeper.

"Perhaps I forgot to pay my bar tab somewhere. It is of little concern," answered David flatly. "Have someone bring hot water to my room. I wish to bathe."

"Yes, my Lord. Right away," answered the innkeeper with a bow.

After David bathed and shaved, he dressed and walked downstairs. He was on his way out the door, when the innkeeper stopped him. "My Lord, what should I say to those men if they return again?"

"I am going to Le Pub du Fond Sombre. Send them to find me there."

"Very good my Lord. Have a pleasant evening."

David frowned and left. He walked down the street towards the bar, ignoring the stares from the other pedestrians and the propositions from the women. It was not often that someone of his stature visited that section of Paris and if they did, it was usually only for one thing.

He arrived at his destination within twenty minutes and immediately sat down at the bar. "What may I interest you in this evening?" asked the bartender.

"A bottle of brandy," came the answer.

The bartender smiled as he put down the glass and the bottle in front of David. "Would you like anything else? Perhaps another glass for any lady you might meet?"

David ignored the insinuation of the man's comment. "No. One glass will be all."

After he had finished two thirds of the bottle, two burly men approached him. They were young, tanned, muscular, and rough looking. "Are you Lord Wallingford?" asked the shorter of the two.

David glared at him for a moment then continued drinking.

The second man took away his bottle. He was taller than the first man, with a large scar running down his cheek and a threatening glare. "My brother asked you a question sir. Are you David Fitzwilliam?"

Irritated, David glanced over at the scarred man. "And what if I am?"

The men looked at each other for a moment, as if unsure how to proceed. The shorter one spoke, "My Lord, you must come with us."

"And what if I refuse?"

The man with the scar shook his head. "I don't think you understand. You are coming with us."

David glared at him petulantly, then signaled for the bartender. "I would like another bottle."

As soon as the bottle arrived, the scarred man grabbed it away from David quickly while the other handed the bartender a large amount of money. "For your troubles," he said while paying off the bartender.

Annoyed at the interruption, David angrily demanded, "Give me my bottle!"

"We will give you both bottles back and give you as much drink as you'd like if you come with us," offered the shorter man. David scowled and tried to stand, but the alcohol had taken effect. He staggered and almost stumbled backwards as he faced them. The shorter man grabbed his arm to prevent him from falling and said, "Do not worry, come with us."

David considered resisting, but considering his inebriated state and his opponents' larger size, he thought better of it. Instead, he allowed himself to be taken away quietly. As soon as they were outside, he was pushed inside of a carriage and the two men hopped in after him. "To Calais" the man with the scar shouted to the driver.

"Calais? Why Calais?" asked David.

"Never mind the questions," growled the scarred man menacingly. "You've given us enough trouble. Here drink your brandy and be quiet," he said while tossing the bottles at David.

"My clothes are at my inn…" he protested.

"We've taken care of that. Your trunk is secure on the back of this carriage," soothed the other.

David looked at his captors warily. "I have a lot of money. I will give it to you if you let me go."

"Where is it?" demanded the scarred man.

"In my coat pocket," he replied.

The man with the scar reached into his coat and took the small sack with gold coins out of David's pocket. "You can have more if you release me," offered David.

"If you are talking of the money hidden in the false bottom of your trunk, we have it," he answered. To his brother he added with a smile, "Now we have all of his money. He cannot escape. He has no resources."

David listened to the words with some alarm. The brute was correct. If he did manage to escape, he would have difficulty traveling without any money.

His brother looked at David and smiled. "Drink your brandy. All will turn out well, Lord Wallingford."

David shrugged his shoulders, opened up his bottle, and took a swig. The least they could have done was bring a glass along too.

Several days later, he was boarded on a ship. His captors gave the captain a large bribe in order to bring their prisoner on board with no questions asked. As they began to sail, David looked out the porthole of the small room where he was being kept. I wonder where they are taking me. Am I being sold into slavery? Will I end up in America? Australia? Cuba? Turning away from the window, he looked at his surroundings. He was being held in a very small room, with only a small table and one crate as furniture. On the table in the centre of the room, his kidnappers had left him a bowl of stew, a spoon, one glass, and several bottles of whiskey. As he sat down on the crate at the table, ate his meal, and began to consume the whiskey, he wondered where he was being taken and if he really cared.

Chapter 19 ~ The Captors

Posted on Sunday, 13 February 2005

Pierre was furious and disgusted. Disgusted that such a swine was related to his master and furious that his master cared for him. Lord Wallingford isn't worth the price of the alcohol he drinks, he thought.

George Darcy had called Pierre and his younger brother, Jacques, into his study five weeks prior. He had related to his undergardeners the story of his nephew, David Fitzwilliam, the Viscount Wallingford. Apparently, the Viscount had suddenly disappeared. Since leaving for the Continent a little over a year earlier, he had written Georgiana every week. However, the letters stopped without warning ten weeks earlier. At first, Mr. Darcy wasn't alarmed. Letters had been delayed before and sometimes there was a gap of two or three weeks between notes, then several would arrive at once. However this time was different. Ten weeks had passed without a word. Georgiana began to fear for the Viscount's safety and began to have frequent nightmares. Mr. Darcy had dispatched a note to the Earl of Matlock to inquire whether he had heard anything from his son. Earlier that morning, he had received the reply. The Earl and Countess had not received any correspondence from their son in nearly three months. After receiving the note from the Fitzwilliams, he remembered that two of his undergardeners were half French and had spent a great deal of time in France visiting relatives. He immediately summoned them to ask a favour. He wanted his nephew found.

Pierre and Jacques were eager to help. They had a great loyalty to their kind hearted master and felt privileged to be trusted on such an important mission. After listening to Mr. Darcy's description of his nephew and learning as much as they could about him, the brothers set off. First, they traveled to Calais because it was the Viscount's last known address. A stable boy told them that the Viscount had been in Calais, but had hired a coach and left for Paris. They set off on his trail. At first, the brothers were apprehensive about the Viscount's well being.

"What if he is injured or killed?" Jacques had asked him one day while on the road to Paris. "What will we tell the master then?"

"At least he will know the truth," came the answer.

After arriving in Paris, it was not difficult to find the Viscount. He was not in a hospital or a morgue; he was in a drinking establishment. The only difficulty was discovering which one on which night since it seemed that he frequented all of them at one time or another.

"Such trouble over this piece of garbage," Pierre grumbled as he and his brother were leaving David's inn after missing him again.

"You should not judge so harshly. Perhaps we do not know the whole of the circumstances," admonished Jacques.

"What is there to know? The man is a pig. He does nothing but drink and sleep with whores. He is a good for nothing."

"So what shall we do?" asked Jacques.

"We report to the master that his nephew is alive and well and isn't worth troubling himself over."

Jacques shook his head. "That will not do. Miss Darcy is very fond of her cousin. We should bring him back to Pemberley."

"The master said nothing about us returning with him! He only wanted news of his nephew's whereabouts and situation. Besides, the child is better off without seeing him," protested Pierre.

Jacques scowled. "That is for the master to decide. The Viscount will be at Le Pub du Fond Sombre this evening. We will find him and take him back with us."

Pierre sighed because he knew that once his stubborn brother set his mind to something, there was no convincing him otherwise. I wonder how he expects that we will take a grown man somewhere he does not want to go?

The brothers found David that evening. Pierre had expected more resistance from him, but Jacques found that coaxing him with liquor was all that was required. Now they were sailing across the channel and would be in Derbyshire within a week. Pierre only hoped that their supply of liquor would hold until they reached Pemberley.

Five days later, a carriage pulled up to Pemberley. The brothers had sent a note to Mr. Darcy telling their master to expect them. As soon as he saw the carriage drive up the path, George Darcy rushed outside. He was anxious to see his nephew and have the brothers explain their enigmatic message. "We will bring the Viscount, but please do not allow Miss Darcy to see him when he first arrives. We think it would be best if you deal with him alone first." George Darcy knew that David would never want to be kept away from Georgiana nor would he ever dream of restricting him from seeing her. However, Mr. Darcy did as the brothers suggested and did not mention David's arrival to Georgiana. Instead, he sent her and Miss Jones, Georgiana's governess, on a picnic for the afternoon. As the carriage halted and the door opened, nothing could have prepared Mr. Darcy for the shock he was about to receive. Out of the carriage tumbled David. He landed flat on his back and lay on the ground clutching a bottle of brandy in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other. He was dirty, unshaven, unkempt, and smelled of liquor.

"Hellos Uncle Darshy," David slurred while looking up. "Whaa are ye doin alls the ways up there?" he asked before passing out.

David woke the next morning with a splitting headache. As he opened his eyes, he tried to breathe in slowly and move as little as possible to prevent his head from exploding. Oh Lord, where am I now? he wondered. He tried to recall the previous day, but it was all in a fog. After several minutes, he gingerly sat up and looked about him. He was amazed to discover he was at Pemberley. One look at his surroundings confirmed it. The paintings on the walls, the lavish blue satin bedspread, the matching cherry bed and armoire, the small writing desk, the silk rug. He was in the bedchamber he always used when visiting. What am I doing here? He vaguely recalled riding in a coach and nothing more.

Suddenly, George Darcy entered the room and slammed the door shut. "Good morning David. I trust you slept well," his voice boomed as he paced back and forth in front of the bed.

"Please, Uncle Darcy, would you speak a little softer and stand still? I seem to feel a little under the weather this morning," he replied quietly.

"It is no wonder you feel so ill," Mr. Darcy answered loudly, stomping his feet while he paced. "It is a wonder you survived drinking that much."

David slowly moved to the edge of the bed and lowered his feet to the floor. "Will you have some tea brought up please?" he begged. "I would be terribly grateful."

"No I will not! Not until you answer some questions," Mr. Darcy roared as he glared at his nephew. After a few moments of silence, he continued. "My undergardeners tell me that they found you in a brothel."

"Actually, they found me in a tavern. The brothel was upstairs."

Mr. Darcy suddenly stopped and glared menacingly at David. "And I understand that you were easy to track. All they needed had to do was follow the scent of alcohol on your breath."

David looked blandly back at his uncle, unfazed.

After matching David's stare for a minute, Mr. Darcy finally let out an exasperated sigh. "I do not understand," he said while throwing up his arms. "I would expect such behaviour from George Wickham, not you. What happened to you while you were in France?"

David clinched his jaw shut and stared resolutely back.

"Very well. If you will not tell me, I cannot help. However, I will not let you see Georgiana in this state. I want you to bathe and shave this morning and you will not be allowed to drink. I am confining you to your bedchamber. I will not have you influencing my daughter!"

"You cannot keep me here," David answered petulantly.

"Try me," Mr. Darcy warned. His tone softened slightly as he continued, "You mean a great deal to Georgiana and she has been worried sick about you. Her nightmares are back and I cannot make them go away. Furthermore, I will not allow you to roam the countryside disgracing your family. I owe your parents at least that much." He turned angrily away and marched towards the door. As he reached for the knob, he lowered his head. "I do not know what happened David, but I am very disappointed in you. I always thought you were better than this," he said softly before opening the door and leaving.

As David watched the door close behind his uncle, he shook his head. "He would never understand," he muttered.

David stayed in his bedchamber for several days. He moved a chair to the window and sat and stared outside all day long. He was clean, shaven, sober, and looked like he once did, however, Mr. Darcy knew better. There was a pain in his eyes that was unmistakable. Several times a day, Mr. Darcy went to David's room to speak with him. Usually, David just stared outside, refusing to even acknowledge his presence. When he did look at him, he was totally unresponsive. He has completely withdrawn into a shell, thought Mr. Darcy.

On the fourth night of his visit, David sat in the chair near the window, staring blankly outside. The candlelight combined with the fire in the fireplace contrasting with the darkness outside prevented him from seeing anything out of his window, but it did not matter. His mind never saw what he was looking at anyway. Instead, he envisioned the mound of dirt on Susan's grave.

A quiet knock interrupted his thoughts. After several seconds, the door slowly opened. Out of the corner of his eye, David saw Mrs. Stanley's head poke into the room then suddenly retreat. After several more seconds, Georgiana looked into the room. As soon as she saw him, she quickly entered and shut the door behind her. "Shhh," she whispered while clutching her doll and running across the room towards him.

"Shouldn't you be in bed Georgiana? It's late," said David while still looking out the window.

"I wanted to see you. Papa doesn't know that I know you are here."

He puzzled over the child's statement for a moment before turning to look at her. "How did you discover my presence then?"

"I saw a light in this room. You are the only one who ever stays in this bedchamber. I knew it must be you."

David smiled. "Very clever little one."

"I am not little anymore, I am six," she informed him, a little annoyed at his mistake. "Why did you not come to see me? Don't you love me anymore?"

David looked down at the floor, unable to meet her probing eyes. "Your father does not want me to see you right now."

"Is that because you are sad?"

Startled, he looked up at her. "How did you know?"

"Because I am sad too."

He reached over and picked Georgiana up, placing her on his lap. "What are you sad about?"

"It is a secret," she said quietly. "Why are you sad?"

"It is a secret as well."

Georgiana bit her lip and studied his face. She looked down at Mrs. Stanley sitting in her lap and whispered in the doll's ear. After a few seconds, Georgiana looked back up at David. "Mrs. Stanley said I can tell you. I will tell you my secret and you will tell me yours, alright?" Before he could stop her, she continued, "Aunt de Bourgh visited last week with Anne." She looked at him and nodded, as if he should be able to make the connection.

Confused, he asked, "And why does that make you sad? You should be happy that Lady Catherine left. I always am."

"I hate the name Georgiana," she answered.

David was startled. "Why do you hate your name? It is a lovely name."

"Because Lady Catherine says that I'll never be as good as her Anne or..."

"Or your mother," continued David, finally beginning to see the connection.

"I wish my name was 'George'," she said sadly.

"Why 'George'?"

"Because no girl is named 'George'."

"Least of all your cousin or your mother," he said with an understanding nod.

"But my name is Georgiana," she answered with a small pout. "And Aunt de Bourgh always tells me that I am not as good as Anne or Mama."

David smiled and kissed her forehead. "Do not listen to Lady Catherine. She talks a great deal more than she ought and understands less than she should. But if it will make you feel any better, I, for one, will call you 'George' from now on. Will that help?"

A look of concern came over her as she asked, "You will not tell Papa on me, will you? He would not like it."

David shook his head. "I promise, it is our secret. I will not tell anyone."

Relieved, Georgiana smiled and hugged him. "Thank you."

"You are welcome, George," he said with a smile.

"Now why are you sad?" she asked. After several moments of silence, she added, "You promised."

"I am not sad," he said while avoiding her eyes. "I am just tired." Tired of living.

Georgiana studied his face for a few seconds longer before climbing down. She looked at Mrs. Stanley thoughtfully, then gave her to him. "Here is Mrs. Stanley. She will make you happy."

"Thank you George," he said while kissing the doll on its forehead and offering it back to her. "It worked. Now I am happy."

Georgiana shook her head vigorously. "No, you keep her. She needs to take care of you more. I'm a big girl now."

David managed a sad smile as Georgiana left the room. She looked so disappointed that I would not confide in her, yet how could a child of her age understand? How could she understand losing someone that important? As David stroked Mrs. Stanley's hair, he suddenly realized that she might understand more than he gave her credit for. He rose from his chair and for the first time since arriving at Pemberley, left his bedchamber. He walked down the hall and knocked softly at her door. Upon opening the door, he received a surprise. Georgiana was sitting on her bed with a chair facing her, waiting for his arrival.

David took his assigned place meekly. He attempted to explain the circumstances surrounding his marriage and wife's death as simply as he could. As he spoke, the tears fell freely. Georgiana sat quietly and listened, asking few questions. Instead, she urged him to hug Mrs. Stanley. "She will make you feel better," Georgiana assured.

David left her bedchamber a half hour later feeling a little relieved. He had not mentioned Susan to anyone and it felt good to speak to someone about her. Even though she was only a young child, expressing his grief helped to comfort him. He still held on to the doll at Georgiana's insistence. "She will protect you," she claimed.

David slowly wandered the halls of Pemberley, thinking about their conversation and shaking his head. She is the only one in the family who understands, he thought to himself. It was then that he turned the corner and saw his uncle. He was standing in the picture gallery staring up at the portrait of Lady Anne. The look of loss in his uncle's eyes was unmistakable. David saw it every time he saw his reflection in a looking glass. Well, perhaps not the only one, he conceded before taking a deep breath and approaching his uncle. "Uncle Darcy, I apologise for not speaking with you earlier. However, I believe I am ready to talk to you now."

The following day, David sought Georgiana's company. He intended to return Mrs. Stanley to her owner and tell her how much he appreciated the gesture. After breakfast, he went back to his bedchamber, retrieved the doll, then set out to find Georgiana. The sounds emanating from the music room quickly led him to her. She was sitting at the piano forte with Miss Jones. Upon entering the room, David stifled a laugh as he watched her face contort as she concentrated while playing her scales. At the conclusion of the exercise, he applauded loudly, startling both pupil and teacher, who were not aware of his presence.

"David!" Georgiana exclaimed loudly while quickly climbing off of the instrument's bench and running towards him. She rushed up to him as he bent down and threw her arms around his neck. "I am glad to see you here. Will you stay and listen to me play?"

"It would be my honour George."

"Lord Wallingford," said Miss Jones, after rising from her seat and curtseying to him.

"I am sorry for interrupting your lesson, but I would like a word with your student. Would you mind leaving us alone? It shan't take more than a minute."

"Yes of course, my Lord," she said with a quick curtsey. "I shall be waiting in the hall."

After Miss Jones left, Georgiana asked, "Did Mrs. Stanley take your nightmares away?"

Puzzled, David asked, "What nightmares?"

"Your nightmares," she answered with a nod. "After Mama died, I had nightmares all of the time, but either you or Mrs. Stanley was there to protect me. I thought Mrs. Stanley would protect you too."

David smiled at her sadly. "Yes, she did George. Thank you... And now that my nightmares are all gone, I came to return Mrs. Stanley to you," he said while handing the doll to her.

With a worried look, she reluctantly took her back. "You can keep her, if you would like," she offered. "I am a big girl now and I do not need her."

"Thank you, but I think Mrs. Stanley would miss you too much. She loves you too much to be happy with an old stuffed shirt like me."

"Stuffed shirt?"

"It's nothing," David said with a grin. "I should let you continue your lesson. Would you like for me to retrieve Miss Jones?"

Georgiana nodded her head vigorously. "You will stay, won't you?"

"Of course. I would be delighted."

After listening to her play for a half-hour, the lesson was over. David left the ladies to continue with Georgiana's other lessons while he went to walk the grounds of Pemberley. While wandering along the lush rolling hills of the estate, he reflected on his mood. For the first time since Susan's death, David felt more at ease and comforted. As long as Uncle Darcy is here, I will always have a refuge. After he had walked for an hour, David found a stone bench under a birch tree that sat near a brook. He sat down on the bench and watched the water trickle by. He spent several hours there, finally leaving just before nightfall.

That evening, after David and Mr. Darcy had talked into the early morning hours, David went to his bedchamber. He was emotionally and physically exhausted and longed to climb into his bed and fall fast asleep. As he opened his door, his eyes fell on a familiar sight. Mrs. Stanley was sitting on his bed. Someone had propped her up so that she was sitting on top of the pillows and placed in the middle of the bed. Her dark hair accompanied by her perfect smile brought a smile to his lips. "How did you get here?" he asked out loud as he picked her up.

"I suspect she is worried about you," said a voice behind him.

David spun around to see his uncle standing in the doorway. "Excuse me sir? The doll is worried about me?"

Mr. Darcy laughed. "Silly boy... No, I suspect Georgiana is very worried about you. I saw her watching you as you sat near the stream today. Giving you her doll is the only way she knows to make things better for you."

"How did she know where I was?"

"I believe she kept an eye out for you all day. When you did not return from your afternoon walk, she went looking for you. She knew better than to disturb you, yet she wanted to be of some comfort in her own way."

David smiled back at the doll and nodded, "George is wiser than her years."

The following month, Darcy came home while on break from his second year at Cambridge. Though the classes were interesting, he longed to see his family again. Much to his relief, George Wickham had opted to stay at school during the short recess. Although the given reason was study, Darcy knew better. Wickham would loathe giving up his freedom with the ladies to play an innocent and admirable man in front of his father. Darcy thought his father might be disappointed that Wickham did not come home with him, but he relished the idea of spending time with his family uninterrupted by Wickham's constant presence.

As Darcy's carriage stopped in front of Pemberley, he let out a satisfied sigh. I am home. He quickly exited the barouche and climbed the stairs to Pemberley's door, taking two steps at a time. His heart leapt with joy when he heard Georgiana's cry, "William is home! William is home!" echo throughout the house upon his entrance. As soon as she heard the front door open, she ran to see her brother. She squealed with delight as he picked her up and twirled her around in the air.

"I've missed you very much Georgiana," said Darcy after lowering her to the ground.

"And I you... Will you stay long this time?"

"A fortnight."

Georgiana's smile fell slightly. "That's not very long," she said quietly.

"But long enough for you to introduce me to your new dolls. And I also brought a little present for you from Cambridge," Darcy added, hoping to cheer her spirits.

Georgiana's face immediately brightened. "Really?"

"And you shall receive your present after supper," said Darcy teasingly. "Where is Father? I should let him know I have arrived."

"He is in his study I think."

Darcy gave his sister a kiss on the cheek, and then proceeded to the study. As he approached, he noticed the door to the study was open. He could hear his father's conversation echo down the hall.

"You do not think that we should grow strawberries here?" asked his father.

"I am sure they would survive well enough, but Surrey has a better soil and climate for them. The strawberries from Donwell are particularly fine. I believe you should concentrate your efforts on a crop better suited to the area and one that you will not suffer by comparison..."

As Darcy knocked on the open door and entered the study, he had expected to see his father engaged in a discussion about the estate with the steward or a young man in training. Upon entering, he gave a slight start upon seeing David. Both Mr. Darcy and David stopped their discussion as soon as he entered the room.

"William!" Mr. Darcy declared while jumping to his feet. "We had not expected you for several more hours though Georgiana predicted you would arrive early. I am very pleased to see you son."

"Hello Darcy," said David with a polite smile.

"Father... David..." Darcy addressed them hesitantly after bowing. "I had not known you were back from the Continent."

"Yes, I returned from France at the beginning of last month. And how is Cambridge?"

"Very academic," Darcy answered cautiously. "And how is France?"

"Very French."

Mr. Darcy observed the guarded conversation with some discomfort. To break the awkward pause, he declared, "Now that you two have caught up on the latest news, we should go into the drawing room or perhaps the garden. Today is far too lovely to spend it wasting away in this dark room."

As Darcy followed his father out of the room, he eyed his cousin suspiciously. What is he doing here? he thought. And why should he be discussing estate matters with my father?

After a short conversation with his father and David in the drawing room, Darcy excused himself to retire to his bedchamber and think. His cousin's residence in the house disturbed him, though he wasn't quite sure why.

Three hours later, everyone was assembled for supper. In honour of her brother's return, Mr. Darcy allowed Georgiana to eat in the dining room with the adults. For the first time, she sat at the foot of the table and took the role of mistress of the manor. She struggled to put on an air of sophistication as she tried to prove to all what a big girl she had become. Since Georgiana was dining with the family, Miss Jones also dined with them and sat on Mr. Darcy's right. Seated between Miss Jones and Georgiana was David and across from David was Darcy. This placement pleased Darcy because it allowed him to observe his cousin easily. At first, he suspected that David's presence in the house might indicate that David was fond of Miss Jones, however, his observations soon convinced him otherwise. While David was pleasant to her, he did not treat Miss Jones with any particular amount of regard. Instead, David spent more time conversing with his father. It also did not escape Darcy's notice that Georgiana looked at her cousin a great deal, though he couldn't begin to guess why.

At the conclusion of the meal, David escorted Georgiana from the dining room. "You did very well George," he said to her quietly, but not without Darcy overhearing.

"And so did you," she answered.

"Why thank you," he said with a smile. "I do try." He then bent down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "It is time for you to prepare for bed."

"Must I go to sleep now Papa?" Georgiana asked. "William has just come home and I want to stay up."

"No dear. You can see your brother in the morning," Mr. Darcy said sternly. "It is time for you to go to bed."

"Yes sir," she answered in a dejected tone before giving her father and brother a kiss. Miss Jones took Georgiana upstairs to the nursery, leaving the men alone. Following the usual routine of the household, the gentlemen retired to the library for a little refreshment. On entering the room and settling into a chair, Darcy began questioning David. "How was your tour of Europe?"

"Fine," came the answer as he sat down in a chair apart from the group of chairs which Darcy and his father had chosen to sit.

"Was it as intriguing as you expected?"

"Yes."

Slightly alarmed, Mr. Darcy looked nervously at his son and nephew, but said nothing.

After a short pause, Darcy pressed on. "How was Italy?"

"Fine."

"I've always wanted to visit Venice. The history and architecture sound fascinating. How did you find the city?"

"Very Italian," David replied while rising from his seat and walking to the beverage table. "Would you like Port or would you prefer something else?" asked David while pouring himself a glass.

"Port is fine for me," answered Darcy. "And my father always drinks..."

"Sherry. Yes, I know," David responded quietly.

Darcy involuntarily frowned at this latest revelation. David poured the drinks and handed them to Darcy and his father before returning to his seat. Darcy's jaw tightened slightly as he watched his cousin walk away from him. "I am interested to know more about your trip. You spent over a year touring the Continent and I am anxious to hear of your adventures."

"Really William, there are probably better things to discuss," interjected Mr. Darcy. "You will be touring the Continent yourself soon enough. You do not need your cousin to give you a city by city description."

"But I am particularly curious about Paris..."

"Goodnight Uncle, Darcy," David said abruptly as he leapt to his feet. "It has been a long day and I believe I shall retire for the evening. See you in the morning."

Bewildered by David's sudden need to escape, Darcy blurted, "But you haven't taken a sip of your Port."

"I fear I have a headache starting. If you will forgive me..."

"Goodnight," answered Mr. Darcy. "We shall continue our earlier discussion tomorrow."

"As you wish sir. Goodnight," David said with a bow.

"Goodnight David," said Darcy. I wonder what Father means.

After David left the room, Mr. Darcy turned his attention to his son. "And now I finally have you to myself," he said with a smile. "How is school? Are you enjoying it?"

"Yes, very much sir."

"How is young George? Is he enjoying it as well?"

Darcy shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Very much so I suspect."

Mr. Darcy's eyes narrowed slightly before he gave a nod to his son's response. "Is your curriculum the same as George's?"

"No sir. Our studies are very different... I do not see him very often."

Mr. Darcy nodded again. The corner of his lips turned up slightly.

After some further discussion of school and studies, Darcy asked to retire as well. Even though he was not tired and enjoyed talking with his father, he had a more important duty to perform. After leaving the study, he walked directly to his bedchamber and retrieved the gift he bought for Georgiana from his trunk. Every time he returned from school, he brought his sister a present. This trip was not an exception. Underneath the wrapping and bow was an elaborately illustrated book. He had seen it in the window of Becket's Bookshop near school. He smiled as he looked down at the present. She will enjoy this story immensely. Although he convinced himself that he had purchased the book for Georgiana's enjoyment, the truth was that he looked forward to the story as well. Georgiana inherited the family love of books and he always loved reading to her. Her eyes would grow very large if there was an element of suspense or hide under the covers if the story was scary. Sometimes during his lonely nights at school, he had thought of the tender moments shared between the two as he read to her. To see the story through her eyes and to experience the world for the first time with her is a rare treat that I won't be able to enjoy for very much longer, he thought wistfully. She is learning more everyday and very soon she will not want my help to read. I must cherish these moments as long as I have them. He quickly left his room and approached his sister's bedchamber very quietly. As he arrived at the door, he heard voices inside the room.

"...The dragon, Elton, fled the fair land of Northam never to return. The prince and princess soon married and everyone in the land lived happily ever after. The end...” The conclusion was followed by applause. "Did you like the story George?"

"Very much," she answered enthusiastically. "Will you read me another?"

"No, no. This is quite enough for tonight. Besides, I saw you stifle a yawn even though you tried to hide it..." Georgiana let out a little giggle. "It is time for you to go to sleep. Goodnight George."

Darcy heard the rustling of covers. A moment later, he heard his sister call out, "Will you come and read me a story tomorrow night?"

"Yes, of course. Don't I always read you a bedtime story?"

"Yes, but I like to make sure all the same."

"Do not fret. I will always read to you. Goodnight George. Sleep tight."

"Goodnight David," Georgiana said with a yawn. "Remember an angel is always looking after you, protecting you from bad dreams."

"Indeed she is..."

Darcy heard the turning of the doorknob and he quickly ducked around a corner and hid. He watched his cousin walk past and down the hall. As Darcy looked down at his gift, a twinge of disappointment pricked his heart. Well, perhaps I'll read her a bedtime story some other night, he thought as he slowly returned to his bedchamber.

Chapter 20 ~ An Unexpected Turn of Events

Posted on Wednesday, 16 February 2005

The next morning, Darcy rose in an irritable mood. I do not understand why he is here. He has his own home and family. Why not return to them? He called his valet and dressed for breakfast. As soon as he was ready, he went to the breakfast room to meet David and his father.

Darcy sat at breakfast, silent and grave. He said little to his father and only "Good morning" to his cousin. Both watched him during the morning meal quizzically. Usually Darcy was very cheerful and happy during his visits to Pemberley and his dark mood was obvious to all. After fifteen tense minutes had passed, Mr. Darcy asked, "Son, are you unwell?"

"No Father."

"I trust you slept soundly?"

"Yes Father."

Mr. Darcy furrowed his brow. "Is there any reason for your somber mood?"

"No Father."

Mr. Darcy glanced at David, who returned the look with a slight shrug of his shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye, Darcy caught his cousin's motion, which only served to irritate him more.

At that moment, a footman entered the breakfast room, carrying a letter sitting on top of a silver tray. "Lord Wallingford, this express just arrived from Lincolnshire. The courier said it was of some import so I brought it directly to you."

David blanched while taking the letter from the tray. "Thank you," he said quietly.

Mr. Darcy watched David's reaction closely. "If you would like, William and I could leave you to read your letter in private," he offered.

Surprised at his father's comment, Darcy looked turned to look at his father in wonder.

"No thank you Uncle. Darcy has not finished his breakfast and I would not dream of inconveniencing you both. However, as the contents seem to be of some urgency, I will take my letter and read it outside in the garden. If you will excuse me," he said while rising.

"Yes, of course," Mr. Darcy quickly answered.

After David left, the Darcys continued with their breakfast in silence. Both needed the quiet to contemplate the meaning of the morning's events.

David quickly walked out to his favourite spot to read the letter. As he sat down on the stone bench near the brook, he opened the letter with a mixture of eager anticipation and dread. He often wondered how Mr. Warner and Sharon were fairing, but was too afraid to write them. He looked down at the letter and grimaced upon reading it.

Bramble Hall
Mablethorpe, Lincolnshire

Lord Wallingford,

I have just returned from my duties abroad to my family seat here in Lincolnshire. I must see you as soon as possible. Write me here so we may set an appointment to meet.

I am,
Major Thomas Warner

David folded the note slowly and swallowed hard. He knows I killed his sister and now he wants to avenge her death. He sat on the bench staring up at the stream for a long time, contemplating his options. After deciding his next course of action, he rose and returned to the house. He walked directly to the study to speak with his uncle. The door to the study was open and Mr. Darcy and his son were inside chatting amiably.

"David, you look a little pale," said Darcy upon his cousin's entrance. "I hope the letter did not contain bad news."

"No, it did not," answered David tersely while taking a seat next to Darcy and across the desk from his uncle.

A little concerned at his appearance, Darcy asked, "Is there anything I may help with?"

David stiffened slightly. "I thank you, but no," came the answer.

"William, perhaps you should find your sister and see her," urged Mr. Darcy. "I am sure she would be very happy to demonstrate her progress on the piano forte."

After a moment's hesitation, Darcy answered obediently, "Yes Father."

As soon as he left, Mr. Darcy swiftly rose, walked across the room, and closed the study door behind his son. "I will not mince words. What is in the letter?" he said as soon as the door was closed.

David pulled the note from his pocket and handed it to his uncle. "I think Major Warner wishes to exact his revenge for the death of his sister."

Mr. Darcy quickly took the letter and read it. Upon reaching the conclusion, he walked to the window behind his desk and looked outside. He turned his back on his nephew to hide the concern that he knew must be evident on his face. After half a minute he quietly asked, "What are you going to do?"

"I am going to write the Major immediately and tell him that I will arrive in Lincolnshire in four days." David watched as Mr. Darcy dropped his head slightly in thought.

"You could tell William of your predicament and he could accompany you..."

"No," David interrupted. "I will not tell anyone of my marriage other than you and George. No one else must know."

"I do not understand your need for secrecy..."

"I married a woman who is beneath me in station, though she was my superior in every other way. I do not regret one second I spent with her nor do I regret marrying her. However, our family will not see it in that light. All they will see is that I lowered myself to marry a trademan's daughter. They will think that her death was God’s judgment upon us. Whether their contempt will be spoken or unspoken, it will be there. I cannot bear anyone thinking ill of Susan. I was fortunate to have called her my wife. I will not tolerate anyone thinking otherwise."

“Perhaps you are over reacting…”

David sighed. “Uncle Darcy, can you honestly tell me that anyone in this family will accept my union? You know their disposition. The Fitzwilliams are a proud, disagreeable bunch. And I, being the next Earl, am expected to live up to their expectations.”

“David…”

“Even your own son will think that I have married beneath me. Because of the inferiority of her connections and position in life, he will believe that I degraded myself by marrying someone whose lot in life is so decidedly below my own. But at least he will have the good manners to keep his sentiments to himself. Lady Catherine and my parents will not. Do you have any notion of how many lectures I would have to endure from my father claiming that I have let down the family? I would be old and grey before he would be finished shouting. And then Lady Catherine would start! Can you imagine?”

“David, I will grant that Lady Catherine can be overbearing, but your father is a good man…”

David scowled. “Darcy would have been better suited to be my father’s son. He never makes any missteps while if I stand still for two minutes together, I know that my father will catch me and another lecture will be forthcoming. I have always struggled to win his approval, whereas it seemed to come much easier for others. But I refuse to hear any more lectures on duty, family, and obligation… My original plan was to bring my wife back to England to introduce her to the family. I was hoping that her spirit, grace, and beauty would soften some of their dislike. But as I no longer have that ability, I do not have anything to diminish their revulsion. I know you believe that I am being obstinate, but I refuse to lay my private actions open for my family to distain! No, I refuse to hear one negative word said about my marriage. Only you and George will know. The smaller the circle that knows about my secret, the better. The rest of the family will never suspect.”

Mr. Darcy nodded his head, turned back towards him, and sat down at his desk. “Have you ever considered that your father has a luxury in his relationship with my son that he does not have with you? He has never felt responsible for moulding William into someone who must follow in his footsteps. There are responsibilities that you will someday bear that only he can prepare you for. It is a burden that any good father feels towards his son.”

David continued to scowl, but said nothing more.

As Mr. Darcy sized up his nephew, he decided to change tactics. “You know, once you start keeping secrets, you may have much to hide. One secret may spawn many others. And you may find that there is an unintended cost to your silence…”

“That is a risk I am willing to accept. Besides, I think I can manage the family. I’ve been so loud and disagreeable over the years; hardly anyone questions what I say or do.”

“Speaking of the family, I have been meaning to caution you about your behaviour. While I grant that you are very generous and thoughtful to the staff and compassionate to those below you in station, your behaviour is not above reproach…”

“Oh?”

“To your equals in birth or consequence, you can be impatient. And to your family, you are a bit imperious.”

David rolled his eyes. “Really Uncle, it is not as bad as all of that, is it? You sound as if I cannot be trusted in good society.”

“No, society will always tolerate your little eccentricities because they fall well within the bounds of normal behaviour. Certainly, you comport yourself with more dignity than many young men in your position. But sometimes you carry the idea of ruling the family with an iron hand a bit far. You can be short tempered to your brother, cousins, and on occasion, to Lady Catherine. Kindness to your own family would not be seen as a flaw…”

“But it would be seen as a weakness to be exploited by the likes of the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Do you not see? Would there be any part of my life she would not try to control? I have survived for twenty-four years in this family by being as surly, disagreeable, and overbearing as I can muster. Please do not try to convince me to change.”

“I know that sometimes your words and actions seem to reflect beliefs you do not really hold and someday that may cause you more grief than you anticipate,” Mr. Darcy replied patiently.

David looked at his Uncle skeptically.

Mr. Darcy shook his head. "I know that your Grandmother taught you differently, but I wanted to give you another person’s opinion on being a true patriarch. Erecting a castle wall and a moat to separate you from everyone else and fighting back against expectations is not the only way to live. Listen to your uncle if you wish… Regardless, no one else has the responsibility to be the next great earl, as you do. However, you are right; the Fitzwilliams are a proud, disagreeable bunch. And even Lady Catherine cannot hold a candle to your father’s second cousin, Penelope.” Both men shuddered. “You have my sympathies... Enough of an old man’s advice, what will you do upon reaching Lincolnshire?"

"I will meet Major Warner and face my punishment. I killed his sister and her death must be avenged," he replied darkly.

"You are not thinking clearly. You did not kill your wife."

David shook his head. "Perhaps not literally, but I killed her through my neglect. I should have been by her side. I should have not leased such a cold house. I should have..."

"Accidents happen, you could not have prevented it," soothed Mr. Darcy.

"But I should have seen..."

"You are not omniscient and omnipotent. Only God could have prevented what happened and he had other plans."

"Still," said David with a shake of his head. "It is my fault."

Continued in Next Section