Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth Read online

  He knew that he had to do something, so he surrounded himself with a select group of honorable and honest young men, led mainly by his cousin Richard Fitzwilliam. Soon this became like a cage to him, and he started to become somewhat uneasy and apprehensive when he was in the company of those who were wholly unknown to him. He preferred to risk censure rather than jeopardize his good name until he became better acquainted.

  Outside of his schoolwork, his only true pleasures were his cousin, his fencing, and his return visits to Pemberley, his father, and Georgiana.

  ∞∞∞

  During his third year at Cambridge, he spent the month of December and the Christmas and New Years holidays at Matlock Estate, the home of his uncle, the Earl of Matlock. Uncle James and Aunt Eleanor Fitzwilliam were elated when Mr. Darcy and Georgiana joined them to make that Christmas celebration a true family affair. It was the most wonderful period of freedom that Darcy had had in a very long time. Frequently, he simply rode out on horseback, accompanied by his father, his sister, or both. He rode the hunt for the pleasure of it and the company of good friends, or simply chose a book from the library and read, all in the comfort of a home almost as welcoming to him as his own Pemberley House.

  A bit over two months after returning to Cambridge from the Christmas holiday, Darcy received a message requesting that he come to the headmaster’s office. As soon as he entered the room, his heart sank. Standing behind the bowed head of a very tearful young woman stood a very angry father. Surely George Wickham had not done this to him again.

  “Mr. Darcy,” the headmaster began, “Mr. Carrathers and his daughter have laid some serious charges at your door.”

  Darcy looked at the bowed head of the young woman and then at the angry man standing behind her. “What might those charges be?” he asked knowing full well what the answer would be even before the question was asked.

  “This young woman and her father report that while spending the Christmas holiday in Shepway in Kent, you conducted yourself in a manner most inappropriate as to leave the young woman with child.”

  “Headmaster, I can tell you now that I do not know this young woman, nor was I in Kent during the Christmas holidays,” spoke Darcy in a very controlled voice.

  The angry father leapt at Darcy with every intention of doing him bodily harm. “Of course he is going to deny it. What else do you expect him to say? All wealthy young men are the same. The man is a liar and a despoiler of young women. I demand justice.”

  Darcy stood rigid with his head held high. “Headmaster, I spent the Christmas holidays with my family at Matlock Estate. That is many miles from Kent, near to Derbyshire, faraway on the other side of London. I ask that you apply to my uncle, the Earl of Matlock, as to my whereabouts during the time that Miss Carrathers indicates that I was with her.”

  With this, the young woman finally looked up and broke into convulsive sobs. “Papa, this is not the young man I met in Shepway. He gave me his name as Fitzwilliam Darcy, but this young man standing here is not he,” she managed to say before being almost overcome again.

  She turned her head quickly to face Darcy. “I am so sorry. I should have told immediately that it was not you as soon as you entered the room and I heard your voice,” she said as she looked tearfully at her father, “but I was afraid. Please forgive me.”

  The headmaster rose to his feet and approached the young woman and her father. “What you have tried to do here today is criminal!” Turning to face Darcy, he said, “Mr. Darcy, you are dismissed and may return to your class. I will deal with this matter personally.”

  Darcy instead asked the headmaster, “What do you intend to do?”

  “Why, throw them out of course, unless you would prefer to have the magistrate prosecute them both.” With this pronouncement, the young woman almost lost consciousness, and fear flashed across her father’s face.

  “NO,” exclaimed Darcy quickly, “I do not want them prosecuted.” Bending to speak in the ear of the headmaster, so as to not be overheard, he explained, “I believe that the perpetrator may be George Wickham, my father’s ward. This would not be the first time that he has used my name, thus making me the scapegoat for his many indiscretions.”

  Compassion for the young woman swept over Darcy. In his mind, he could not diminish her part in the indiscretion, but he knew just how charming and amiable George Wickham could be when he wanted to or, as in most cases, needed to be.

  Looking first at the young woman and then at her father, Darcy said, “Let me offer a course of action that may allow a better resolution for your daughter and the child than that which stands now.

  I will write to my father and explain what has happened. If you have some distant relatives to whom you can send your daughter until she delivers, I would recommend that you do so. After the child is born, I will have it brought to Pemberley, where we will provide for it in every way until it is able to make its own way in life.”

  The headmaster looked at Darcy and shook his head, “Mr. Darcy, I cannot allow you to do this, and I am certain that your father will agree. You cannot possibly have the child brought to Pemberley. Surely everyone will think that the child is indeed yours.”

  “I will know that the child is not mine, and so will my father and that is all that concerns me. However, I will endeavor to keep the matter as quiet as possible. I ask for your discretion.”

  “Of course, Mr. Darcy, you do not even have to ask,” said the headmaster almost contritely.

  Turning to the young woman and her father, Darcy stated more than asked, “Then, we are all in agreement.”

  After receiving confirmation from all those present, he turned to the young woman’s father, “How much have you provided as a dowry for your daughter?”

  Taken aback by the direct approach and question, the father at first stiffened, but then as his shoulders slumped in defeat, he ran his fingers around the brim of the hat held in his hands. “I am not a wealthy man. I can only provide £100,” he said.

  “Sir, I will ask of my father that we add to that amount enough to allow your daughter to not suffer in a marriage because of the hideous and nefarious actions of another. It is also possible that we may find a husband for her among the tenants at one of our holdings, if that is her desire,” Darcy said as he looked to the young woman.

  Turning back to the father, he continued, “Mr. Carrathers, as soon as I hear from my father, our solicitors will contact you to finalize all details regarding this matter. Please give me the direction of where you will be staying so that I may pass along that information to them.”

  Later that evening, Darcy sat behind the desk in his room, his body shaking as he tried to control his anger. His cousin Richard sat across from him, equally livid. “Have you sent an express to your father yet, Darcy?”

  “Yes. Yes, as soon as I reached my room,” Darcy said. “I told him all that has happened and asked for further direction. I also sent a note to our solicitor asking him to begin dealing with the matter.”

  Darcy had already determined that the child would come to Pemberley as an orphaned distant cousin from Ireland. He had long ago decided that no one would ever suffer because of any actions of his own and this child would not suffer because of Wickham. He had gone to the address on Bond Street provided by his father only twice. But, after cleaning up this mess behind Wickham, he vowed that there would never be any possibility that someone could lay an indiscretion at his door. The physical intimacy was simply not worth the risk.

  “I am thankful, Darcy, that the term will be over for you in a matter of months, and I am anxiously looking forward to spending the summer with you at Pemberley. If that is all right with you cousin, of course?” asked Richard Fitzwilliam. “At the end of the summer, I will begin my commission as a lieutenant in Her Majesty’s Royal British Army.”

  Concern spread over Darcy’s face as he looked at his cousin and said, “You did not tell me that you had made the purchase.”

  “Well, I did not exa
ctly make a big issue of it. Even with the unrest on the Continent somewhat settled, Father is afraid Mother will be upset, hence the appeal of Pemberley for the summer.”

  ∞∞∞

  Shifting slightly in his chair before the fireplace, Darcy smiled remembering that summer. He could not think of a time when he had felt more carefree except during his childhood.

  His father was exceedingly proud of him and had approved of his conduct regarding his dealings with the young woman and her father. However, Mr. Darcy felt that the child should be sent to Darcy’s aunt, Lady Eleanor Fitzwilliam (the Countess of Matlock), instead of coming to Pemberley.

  “No, Darcy,” his father had said to him, “I will not allow any possibility that this child will become an embarrassment or a burdening shadow that will follow you like that which my father and I have borne through insinuation. No, Son. The child will not come here.” After further discussion with the Earl and Lady Eleanor, the change had been presented to and accepted by the young woman, as well as her father.

  The baby was named “Annabel,” and Mr. Darcy’s solicitor handled all of the legal paperwork necessary to bring her into the Fitzwilliam household. Aunt Eleanor had been ecstatic right from the start, as she had always wanted a daughter. Between the dowry of £20,000 provided by the Darcy family and the upbringing and connections provided by the Fitzwilliam family, the Earl and Countess Matlock, Annabel would have a wonderful life, in spite of Wickham’s involvement in her creation.

  It had taken only a few months before Aunt Eleanor convinced the Earl, with very little effort at all, to adopt the young girl officially, adding Fitzwilliam to her name and her to the family. He also added another £20,000 to the dowry provided by the Darcy family. Wickham’s bastard, cast-off child officially and legally became Lady Annabel Leigh Carrathers Fitzwilliam.

  Immediately after returning to Cambridge for the start of his final year, Darcy had begun to miss his cousin Richard terribly. He had other friends, but Richard Fitzwilliam was like a brother to him. One afternoon, while lingering to speak with his fencing master, Darcy bumped into a young second-year student. The fellow was a tall, lanky youth, with a head of unruly blonde curls and a seemingly perpetual smile on his face. Darcy liked him immediately. Charles Bingley was the only son of a wealthy tradesman and the first of his family to go to university. Darcy appointed himself to be the young man’s friend and advisor. His friendship with Bingley helped to ease the pain of missing his cousin.

  At the end of his final term at Cambridge, Darcy began his grand tour of the Continent. Bingley traveled with him to Paris on the first leg, and there they met Richard Fitzwilliam at the Hotel Dauphin. The three of them traveled throughout France for over a month until Bingley needed to return to London and Richard to his duties with the Military Advisory Office in Paris. Darcy alone continued along his journey through Spain, Italy, Germany, Switzerland, Mesopotamia, and into Egypt, from where he sailed across the Mediterranean Sea toward home. As soon as his feet touched English soil, all he wanted was to go home to Pemberley. He immediately sent an express notifying his father of his pending arrival.

  Darcy’s journey had taken nearly a year and it was now almost the end of June. When he looked from the crest of the hill on the road that wound through the estate and saw Pemberley House shimmering in the afternoon sun, his heart began to beat a little faster, for he knew he truly was almost home.

  Georgiana, who had been standing on the front steps waiting for him to arrive, had run to him and leapt into his arms as soon as his feet had touched the ground from the carriage step. “Wills, oh Wills, I have missed you so much,” she squealed gleefully. Darcy hugged her, swung her through the air and told her how much he had missed her while he was away. His father looked at the two of them from the top of the front steps of Pemberley House and broke into jubilant laughter.

  When Darcy finally set Georgiana’s feet on the ground, he was amazed at how much she had grown. She was not a child anymore. At the age of ten, she was on her way to becoming a beautiful young woman. “Georgie, I missed you, too. Look at you. How much did you grow while I was away?” Darcy asked as he smiled down into her upturned face. He took her by the hand, and when they reached the top of the front steps, Darcy hugged his father with all his strength. “Papa, I am so very glad to be back,” he said.

  Now, he was truly home.

  When he entered Pemberley House, Mrs. Reynolds was waiting in the foyer to greet him. He gave her as enthusiastic a hug as the one that he had given his father, and she wiped the tears of joy from her eyes with the lace square that she always kept in the hidden pocket of her gown.

  “Let me get out of these dusty clothes, and I will tell you all about my trip while we take tea,” Darcy suggested.

  As he ran up the staircase, he said over his shoulder, “I have some presents with me, but I had most of them shipped back from wherever I was staying. They should be arriving over the next couple of months.”

  Georgiana shouted back at him, “Wills, you silly goose, they have already started arriving. The first one came about six months ago.”

  He stopped halfway up the stairs, turned back to her, and said, “Georgie, do not worry. I carried yours with me the whole time.” With that he was up the remaining steps, taking them two at a time. After a quick bath and a change of clothes, he met his sister and father in the family sitting room on the first floor. As soon as he had settled himself on the couch, Georgiana came to sit beside him. She was as excited to hear of his travels as he was to tell about them, but first things first. He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out a long, flat box covered in deep blue velvet, with a matching ribbon tied into a beautiful bow.

  “For you Georgie,” he said as he held the box out to her.

  “What is it?” she asked, caressing the velvet.

  “Why not open it and see?” Darcy asked, looking at his father.

  With exaggerated slowness, she gently pulled the ribbon from the edge of the box, leaving the bow intact and still showing its many ruffles and ridges. Darcy chuckled. This was something new. Before, Georgiana had ripped into packages with all the impatience of youth.

  Removing the top of the box, she saw a long velvet bag the same deep blue colour as the box. She looked at Darcy with great tears in her eyes. When she removed the contents from the bag, she threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek. “Oh, Papa, look what Wills brought me.”

  In her hand was a single, perfect, exquisitely cut sapphire approximately one inch in diameter, surrounded by ten perfect pearls all set in the most delicate gold filigree and hung on an almost impossibly fine gold chain. Immediately, she knew what the necklace represented, sapphire for her eyes and the ten perfect pearls for her tenth birthday. How she loved her brother!

  Darcy then began to describe his travels, knowing that it would take weeks to recount all that he had seen and everywhere he had gone.

  The next morning saw all three of the Darcys up for an early morning ride across the expansive Pemberley Estate. First they rode through the small fields close to the house and then across one large open field into the edge of the wooded area where there ran a small, rapidly flowing stream that eventually emptied into the lake fronting Pemberley House. Mr. Darcy had just directed his mount down the narrow pathway to the stream to let him drink when a shot rang out.

  “Surely no one is hunting this far into Pemberley grounds,” thought Darcy, watching in horror as his father’s horse reared up and slipped on the muddy bank, tossing both horse and rider into the rushing water of the stream. The stream itself was not deep or broad, but it was exceedingly rocky. While the horse struggled to its feet, Mr. Darcy lay crumpled amid the rocks and roiling water.

  Darcy and Georgiana dismounted quickly and ran to their father. Darcy arrived first and gently lifted the older man to lay him tenderly on the soft grass beside the stream, all the while cradling his father’s head in his arms.

  “Georgie! Go get help. I will stay here
with Papa.”

  “No, Wills. Do not make me go,” she cried.

  “Georgie, one of us has to go for help. Ride as quickly as you can back toward the stable. Alert the first person you see and then come directly back here to me.” Looking at his father, he told her, “Papa and I will both wait for you.”

  Georgiana scrambled back up on her mare and rode from the woods as quickly as the little animal would go. Her body shook with violent sobs and tears flooded her eyes. She was more than halfway back to the stable when she saw Mr. Carpenter, the estate manager, and his two apprentices crossing the field on their way to the game master’s hold. She threw her arms into the air and shouted.