Mr. Darcy's Refuge Read online

  “Does he know that I am here, do you mean? He is aware I planned something of this sort, though not the details. This concerns my honor, not his.”

  Elizabeth felt her cheeks grow warm. “But is he well? I have heard nothing since I left Hunsford.”

  The colonel tapped his crop against his leg, considering the matter. “He is well enough, though I cannot say that he is happy with the situation. He keeps rather a grim visage these days.”

  “I feared as much. I am forbidden to send him messages, but will you tell him you saw me?”

  “If that is what you wish.” He bowed slightly.

  With a rush of embarrassment, she recalled that the colonel might have mixed feelings about facilitating communication to Darcy. “I should have said this immediately, had I not been taken by surprise, but you must allow me to express my gratitude for your efforts to turn Lord Matlock’s wrath away from both Mr. Darcy and me. It was very generous of you. And if you were ever to decide to sell your commission, you could have a bright future on Drury Lane! Had I not known you had been perfectly sober before their arrival, I would have believed you to be quite foxed!”

  His eyes crinkled as he grinned. “You do me too much honor, Miss Bennet. I would be much better suited to play the jester.”

  “I hope that day had no lasting consequences for you.” It was something that had worried her.

  “Nothing of note. I am forbidden access to Matlock House, but losing the opportunity to enjoy the charming company of my father is not much of a punishment.”

  “I would imagine not! But I should take you to my father, for if he finds me talking to you, I will be made to regret it,” she said lightly.

  He dropped his voice. “I deeply regret being the source of conflict between you. You always spoke of your father with affection, so this must be painful for you.”

  His sympathy and consideration threatened to breach the walls that held back her feelings of betrayal, so she responded in a teasing tone. “I prefer to think of it as opening my eyes to his shortcomings. But come, I will announce you to my father. You are fortunate that my youngest sisters are away; they are mad for any gentleman in a red coat.”

  “I will keep my sword to the ready so that I may defend myself if necessary,” he said with a laugh.

  She led him into the house, past the open sitting room door where all conversation abruptly ceased, and then to the library. She knocked on the door before opening it. When her father looked up, she told him with all the sweetness she could muster, “Colonel Fitzwilliam to see you.” She waited for the explosion.

  “I know no Colonel Fitzwilliam,” he grumbled.

  Elizabeth hid a smile, realizing no introduction had been made at Hunsford. She stepped back and waved the colonel in, then closed the door behind him and waited for the explosion.

  ***

  Richard was prepared to be amiable in face of all provocation, but he was surprised when Mr. Bennet stood and held out his hand.

  “You have the advantage of me, Colonel.”

  So he did not recognize him in uniform. “We have met, sir, but under rather unfortunate circumstances which precluded a formal introduction. Richard Fitzwilliam, at your service.” He made a formal bow.

  Either his voice or his name was apparently enough to make a connection in Mr. Bennet’s mind, since his eyes narrowed and he withdrew his hand. “I wonder at your insolence in presenting yourself here.”

  “I can understand your sentiment, sir, and it is precisely that which I came here today to address. I deliberately gave you a very misleading impression that day, unaware of your relationship to Miss Bennet. I am afraid you saw a show which was intended to impress a different audience. It would have been beyond insolent had I known your identity.”

  Mr. Bennet’s lip curled. “It was beyond insolent in any case. Say what you have to say, and then leave.”

  “I do not blame you for distrusting me, sir, given the circumstances of our last meeting. In your position, I would do the same. I presented myself as a drunken rake with no respect for your daughter and proceeded to impugn her good name, when in fact I was stone-cold sober and have the greatest respect for your daughter, and everything I said about her was a fabrication intended to avoid a different sort of unpleasantness.”

  “I do not care about your reasons.”

  “But I ask of your justice a chance to defend myself. Since you have no reason to believe me, I came prepared with character references from individuals you are likely to find more trustworthy.” He placed two sealed letters on the desk in front of Mr. Bennet. “The first is from Lord Palmerston, my superior at the War Office, and contains his frank assessment of the strengths and weaknesses of my character. Being uncertain of your political leanings, I took the precaution of also obtaining one from Mr. Perceval in case you are more inclined to place your faith in the opinion of a Tory. I hope you will agree with me that they are both known to be honest men.”

  Mr. Bennet did not touch the letters. “Compared to other politicians, that is true, but all you have convinced me of is that you are exceedingly well-connected, which I already knew.”

  Richard gave a disarming smile. “Had I wished to prove my connections, I would have asked Wellington to write to you. I was his aide de camp for a time, but I wished to avoid the unnecessary delay of having someone track him down in the wilds of Spain. But if I know Lord Palmerston, you will see the extent of his frankness in his letter. It will not be uniformly positive.”

  “Regardless of what they say, I have no wish to talk to you. I will thank you to leave my house.”

  “With due respect, Mr. Bennet, I will not leave until you have heard me out.”

  “Must I have my servants expel you forcibly?”

  Richard leaned forward and placed his fingertips on the edge of Mr. Bennet’s desk. “If you believe your servants will forcibly expel a commissioned officer in His Majesty’s service who is offering you no threat, then I invite you to do just that. Since I doubt you have such servants, the quickest way to rid yourself of me is to listen to what I have to say.”

  Mr. Bennet crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “I see you are very like your father.”

  “Touché, sir – you know just where to strike. You are, however, quite incorrect. Have you known him to come to your home and seek to clear his name?”

  “No, but I doubt there is anything he would not stoop to do if he felt it in his best interest.”

  “You give him credit for more subtlety than he possesses, then. I understand that you were at school with him, so I imagine you know how he prefers to resolve problems.”

  Mr. Bennet’s mouth twisted. “So he told you all about that, did he?”

  “Of course he did. He does not care that his behavior then was dishonorable, nor that he is breaking the code of honor by speaking of it now. Surely you did not expect better of him? If so, I will be disappointed in you, Mr. Bennet. I thought you more perspicacious than to expect honorable behavior of him.”

  “What great respect you show for your father!” commented Mr. Bennet mildly.

  “I give him the respect he is due. Have you ever read a description of a Spanish bullfight, Mr. Bennet? The bullfighter respects the bull owing to his strength and the danger he offers, not because the bull has any honor. And when the bull is ready to charge, the bullfighter fools him into charging at a waving red cloak instead of at him. A bullfighter who did not feint with a red cloak would be a dead bullfighter. What you saw that day in Hunsford was my own version of waving a red cloak in front of a maddened bull. My father came in determined to destroy your daughter, but instead ended up attacking me, and to a lesser extent Darcy – and I am, after all, somewhat inured to his attacks from years of practice.”

  “Destroying my daughter’s good name seems an odd way to protect her.”

  “Consider my audience, sir. Your daughter and Darcy both knew what I said was not true. As for my father and Lady Catherine, I told them what they
were already convinced was the truth, that your daughter had entrapped Darcy with her arts and allurements. That is where it would have ended, except that you were not my father’s pet solicitor as I had assumed, but rather a concerned father who did not know that I was playing the fool. And that, Mr. Bennet, is what I came here today to tell you, so that you would know that the fault was mine for lying, and that your daughter’s behavior was irreproachable, because whatever you may believe of me, I do not allow an innocent woman to take the blame for my failings.”

  “Or perhaps your true reason for coming here was to promote the engagement with Darcy by exculpating him. It will not work. I remain opposed to it.”

  Puzzled, Richard rocked back on his heels. “Why do you think I would suddenly be promoting the match?”

  “Oh, come now. He is your cousin and your friend, and likely your moneylender as well.”

  “He is my cousin and friend, but that does not mean… Sir, have you talked to your daughter about what happened at Hunsford between the three of us?”

  “To a certain extent.”

  “Well, if you speak to her further, you might discover that I was not a proponent of the match; in fact I tried to dissuade her from it. I support the engagement only in that your daughter must marry someone to preserve her reputation, and since Darcy is the only one she will accept, then she has to marry him. I would rather see her married to Darcy than ruined and alone.”

  “Let me guess – now you are waving a red cloak in front of me.” Mr. Bennet’s tone oozed scorn.

  “Oh, think what you will! I have told you what I came to say, which is that your daughter is innocent of all wrongdoing. Good day, Mr. Bennet.” He stalked out of the room, as annoyed with himself for his loss of composure as at Mr. Bennet’s insinuations.

  ***

  “There he is,” Elizabeth whispered to Jane by the sitting room door. “I hope father did not upset him too much. He is such an amiable gentleman.”

  The colonel strode down the passageway until he reached the two ladies, his usual genial expression back in place. “You need not have worried for me, Miss Bennet. Your father only threatened to throw me out once, and I did not even need to draw my sword,” he teased.

  Elizabeth released the breath that she had been holding. “I am glad of that. Blood is so very difficult to clean off the carpet. Colonel Fitzwilliam, may I present to you my sister Jane? And you are safe with her as well; it is only my younger sisters who are mad for a red coat.”

  Jane held out her hand, and he bowed over it in a courtly manner, going so far as to kiss her hand lightly. “Now that is a pity,” he drawled, his eyes fixed on Jane’s face.

  Elizabeth, accustomed to the stunned expression most gentleman took on when they first met Jane, merely laughed. “Will you come in and take some refreshment with us?”

  “I would be honored to, but if I am not mistaken, I am expected to quit the premises without delay.”

  “Nonsense. Would you have me be so inhospitable as to set you on the road without even a bite to eat when you have already ridden all the way from London?” Elizabeth laid a hand on his arm.

  “When you put it that way, I feel obliged to accept,” he said.

  As Jane led the way and took the seat by the teapot, the Colonel whispered in Elizabeth’s ear. “Is she the one Bingley admired?”

  She nodded. In a conversational tone, she said, “Jane has also just returned home. She has spent the last few months in London with our aunt and uncle.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam picked up the hint and asked Jane about her time in London, comparing notes on her favorite haunts there. Elizabeth allowed the two of them to dominate the conversation, tension still coiled inside her as she waited for the inevitable confrontation with her father.

  It came sooner than she expected when he emerged from the library a quarter hour later, an open letter in one hand and his glasses in the other. He paused in the sitting room doorway, taking in the cozy domestic scene. “So you are still here,” he said.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam stood. “I allowed the ladies to convince me that it would be rude not to partake of the refreshments they had set out, but I will not overstay my welcome.”

  Mr. Bennet waved away his assertion. “Not so quickly, please. Had I realized how very entertaining these letters would prove, I would have read them sooner.”

  Elizabeth closed her eyes, wishing herself far away. Being forced to observe as her father amused himself at the colonel’s expense was the last thing she wanted.

  As the colonel reseated himself, Mr. Bennet placed his spectacles on his nose and opened the letter. “I was particularly taken by this part: ‘Although Colonel Fitzwilliam gave distinguished service during his years in India, it is unlikely that he will advance beyond his current rank. While he has always performed his duty, his lack of enthusiasm for military offensives on the Continent has been noted. While I, having worked closely with him, have no doubt as to his loyalty, I do not anticipate placing him in a combat position unless he chooses to return to India, which I believe to be unlikely.’ And this is your character reference? Tut, tut, young man!”

  The sudden rigidity in the colonel’s expression told her that this intelligence was unexpected. But he recovered quickly. “I did tell you he would describe my flaws as well as my sterling characteristics.”

  “These are telling flaws indeed – disloyalty and – shall we say cowardice?”

  “Father!” Elizabeth cried. “That is untrue.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam’s hand had fallen to his sword hilt, but he slowly unclenched his fingers. “If you call it cowardice that I cannot ride cheerfully into battle against my kinsmen and friends, then indeed I am a coward, but as that letter says, I have always done my duty. I have killed as many French soldiers in battle as any other officer; you will have to forgive me if I do not triumph in it.”

  “A French sympathizer in His Majesty’s service? I am shocked indeed!”

  Elizabeth stood. “That is beyond enough, sir! Amuse yourself as you like, but I will not have you insult a guest in this house.”

  Mr. Bennet ignored her completely. “Well, Colonel?”

  “I believe I saw a bottle of smuggled French brandy in your library, and Miss Bennet is charmingly attired in a style that I believe originated in Paris. Does that make you a traitor for supporting England’s enemy? Our very word for good society – the ton - is French, and most ladies can speak at least a smattering of French. Many of our fashions originate in France. Yet we are supposed to delight in killing the French. We are all students of hypocrisy – or perhaps I should say l’hypocrisie.”

  “But you apparently take it a step farther than drinking French brandy. Perhaps you are an admirer of Bonaparte.”

  “I am no Bonapartiste, but I do sympathize with the French people. They have suffered enough in the last thirty years, even before the tyrant Bonaparte came on the scene. My mother is French, and when the political situation allowed, I have visited France with her. I speak French as well as I do English, which is why I am of particular use in the War Office. It is the current fashion to view all the French as demons. I do not, and have been forced on more than one occasion to defend my honor because of it, but I am not ashamed of my sentiments.”

  Shaking his head, Mr. Bennet folded his glasses as placed them in his pocket. “Matlock married to a Papist. Who would have believed it?”

  “A very, very wealthy Papist heiress, precisely at the time that his estate was in desperate need of money.” The colonel was all amiability again.

  Elizabeth noticed then that Jane’s hand clutched the colonel’s arm. Her face was ashen, but her voice was steady as she said, “I cannot bear this talk of politics on such a beautiful day. Colonel, perhaps you would care to see our gardens? The flowers are delightful this year.”

  He looked down at her in surprise. “That would give me great pleasure, Miss Bennet. Miss Elizabeth, will you join us?”

  Elizabeth found her voice. “In a f
ew minutes, perhaps.”

  Jane kept up a smiling monologue as she and Colonel Fitzwilliam left the room. Elizabeth looked accusingly at her father.

  “Lizzy, of all the unfortunate occurrences in Kent, the worst has been the complete disappearance of your sense of humor. For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbors and laugh at them in our turn?”

  “Laughing at others can sometimes be very hurtful. I do not find insulting a perfectly amiable gentleman amusing. Regardless of what you believe, Colonel Fitzwilliam has been very kind to me.”

  “You will have to forgive me if I assume that if Lord Matlock’s son was kind to you, it was because he found it to be in his best interest.”

  “He is not responsible for the sins of his father. Perhaps he takes after his mother.”