Rising to match his superior’s height, Fitz gestured toward Darcy. “Forgive my negligence, you have not had the pleasure of meeting my cousin, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Colonel Beckman, my cousin, Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy, Colonel Beckman.”
“Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy?” Beckman sneered, Darcy ceasing the bow he had begun in greeting. “Late of America? Are you that Mr. Darcy?”
“I am,” he answered, chin twitching as he stared at the man.
This had little chance of proving an agreeable encounter.
“Why, I had no idea,Major, that you had connections… in as unusual places as that. I imagine those within my regiment will find no end of interest in the topic. Wait, I tell a lie, for regiments beyond mine are sure to find interest in it. To great extents. So few men who have been raised in that quaint portion of the world come to England you see; it is sure to be the talk of the town.”
“I am certain you shall not find yourself wrong,” Fitz said, tone as welcoming as a badger protecting its sett. “You will excuse us, I am in need of a glass of orgeat to prepare myself for an evening of dancing.”
“Of course. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Darcy.”
“A pleasure,” he nodded in reply, head pounding as the insinuated insult, nay, threat, to his cousin’s situation marched through his mind.
“Fitz,” he whispered as the odious Colonel Beckman made his way to the first set of ears open to him, “I…”
Raising his hand, Fitz interrupted him, “Do not try to be the better man, Darcy… it is not up to you to fix whatever that man is intent upon injuring. What he does not know–or anyone outside my regiment for that matter–is that the payment is made, the papers are signed, and all that is missing is the announcement, which is to come tomorrow. I am, no matter what that man says or does, to become a lieutenant colonel.”
“And what of the rank of colonel? General even?”
“I must remain at this rank for a time, it is required. There is much opportunity for forgetting between now and then. Those above me have never questioned my loyalty or how staunchly I see to my duties. Hard work may yet see me a colonel… even a general if your lofty vision for my career is made sure. Either way, I gain the satisfaction of knowing I have earned it, and that is no small thing.”
Hands clenching, Darcy turned toward the crowds in search of Colonel Beckman.Thus far returning to England had given few benefits to any of his family, and now that man. That rat. HE now wished to make their lives worse still.
Gaze stilling as he spotted Colonel Beckman amid a sizable crowd, Darcy’s chest tightened, the image before him unlike any he had ever seen. For, as Colonel Beckman directed the attention of all within his sphere toward him and his cousin, the countenances of all spoke things he could scarcely give credit. A select few draped in pity or curiosity, but the majority stared in disgust, others turning their backs full to them in an attempt to cut them.
He. Fitzwilliam Darcy. A man with vast fortune, a grand estate, titled relations, fine manners, an attractive face and figure, and an education with which few could find fault… he was being cut on the word of some colonel who had spent little more than moments in his company!
Turning his back to the crowd, Darcy caught sight of his cousin’s stoic face staring at the room with his head held high.
Closing his eyes as the weight of every decision he had made fell upon him, Darcy sought to fix on the pain of his throat and head rather than the consequence of those decisions. Yet, as he opened his eyes, the determined features of his cousin facing the wrath of the Ton did not allow him to ignore the issue.His choice to return to England had been wrong. That much was clear. But how might he fix it?
Joining his cousin in stoic defiance of the judgement the majority of those in the room laid upon them, he weighed his options.Return to America with no home or family to speak of and the disgrace of his experience and heritage thick upon him and his family? Or reside largely in Pemberley, avoiding London and his family for a time until opinion shifted–if it ever did? Fitz, his sisters, they each would be heard in regard to this decision, the rest of his family however… their opinions held far less sway than they once would have.
Indeed, it may be that they held no sway at all.
Chapter 6
Hertfordshire, England – 1809
Returning home from London, Elizabeth and Jane enjoyed the solitude of the coach the Gardiners had provided them with, well content in all they had accomplished.
Longbourn's investments were, with Uncle’s help, secure and earning above what they had been. Indeed, if all continued as it had, Longbourn and its tenants would not want for anything.
Rounding a familiar bend, Elizabeth glanced toward her sister, prepared to remark at their being but some quarter of an hour from home before sitting back in her seat. The sleeping form of her sister serene.Their sisters, work, and the sad state of their father would greet them soon enough. Now, they ought to enjoy the peace they knew apart from their dear young cousins and Longbourn.
Lips pulling, Elizabeth wondered about a certain gentleman she had spoken to at Hyde Park.Handsome. He certainly was handsome. Polite, kind, and yet, intelligent. His eyes had revealed that quite readily, even before his words had had chance to confirm.
A pity then, that they had met when they did. No names and with her less than a day from leaving. True, he might have proved better on first impression than second… but she would not have minded giving him a second.
Longbourn’s familiar stone facade appearing in the distance, Elizabeth sighed as she viewed the sleeping form of her sister.
It was for the best that she had not spoken to that gentleman more? Surely. With the harvest season approaching, she had no time for distraction, pleasing or otherwise.
Jane stretching across from her, Elizabeth gave her a soft smile before peering through the open carriage window, their three younger sisters already waiting for them outside, the youngest waving wildly as their carriage pulled up to the house.
Yes. It was for the best.
