Karen Wasylowski - Darcy and Fitzwilliam - A Tale of a Gentleman and an Officer

“Is that all that concerns you?!” She was incensed. “Have you heard nothing else?!”

“Amanda! I am the most sensitive man alive, as you well know! I am profoundly troubled with how that woman insulted you. I hate that woman. I spit on that woman. Oh no, wait! I cannot spit on that woman because I will be… dead ! Thank you, Amanda.” He grabbed her hands, bending over to look straight into her eyes. “My darling friend, why do you hate me so much?”

“Please try to see this from my viewpoint, Anthony. I am in love with him. There, I have finally spoken the words.” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply before continuing. “It was imperative to say something to him to keep him away. I had to make him believe that I was involved romantically with another. You understand, don’t you? You, as my dearest friend in the world, must understand. I have never before asked anything of you, have I?”

“Yes, yes, you have. Many times. Countless times. Constantly.” Anthony watched as Father Riley spoke to the few stragglers in the church, after which he glanced quizzically their way. The old priest had an unerring instinct for rooting out trouble. Like a pig for truffles , Anthony thought wildly. He grabbed Amanda’s elbow and led her deeper into the church.

“May I say something to you, as a close friend who loves you with all his heart and cares deeply about your happiness?

“Of course, Anthony. You know I value your opinion most highly.”

“How idiotic can you be?”

She punched him in the shoulder very, very hard.

“No, truly, Amanda. You have a chance for genuine happiness with a man you love and who evidently also cares deeply for you.” Reassuring himself that Riley had been diverted once again, he looked down with affection at his friend. “Amanda, dios mio , attend me, please. You are a healthy, lovely young woman, and he is a healthy, single man. Grab life and live for a change.”

“I have given you my declaration that he will never bother you, Anthony,” Amanda said coolly. “I must discourage this suit somehow, and he truly is an honorable man. As long as he feels that I am spoken for, he will not push me for any deeper sort of a relationship.”

“You are mistaken concerning this for two reasons.” He sighed and took her hands in his. “First, no one is honorable when it comes to love.” His eyebrows rose when she opened her mouth to protest, and he raised his hand to silence her.

“Second, you are throwing away your life. True love is rare. You know I have never been able to replace mine. If you love this man as deeply as you say, well then you are a fool to let it pass. Even if it is experienced only for a moment, true love is rare and precious.” He raised her hands to his lips and kissed them tenderly.

“But how can I, Anthony? You know how my life is held in forfeit. I could lose my son if she discovers us.”

Anthony turned a compassionate gaze at her. “In the eyes of the law, you have already lost him, querida . When will you accept this? Anyway, did I say she would have to know? Liaisons are a national diversion here. In some circles they are even mandated. Are you not aware that one half of the ton is always cuckolding the other?”

As her eyes filled with tears, she shook her head.

“It is just not my way, Anthony.” She sighed deeply. “I was not raised to carry out the sort of life they lead here. I do not understand these people and I doubt that I could ever be capable of having a relationship outside of marriage vows. I couldn’t, could I? No, it is not in my upbringing, but I love him so very much. Oh, I don’t know what I should do! You understand this, as a Catholic, don’t you? I mean, would it not feel sinful?”

“Only if he is very skillful…”

It had taken only a moment then for Amanda to swat the back of Anthony’s head very, very hard.

Remembering, he shook his head and chuckled at his own witticism. “Only if he is very skillful,” he repeated to his reflection in the mirror. Very clever, Antonio, he complimented himself and smiled, once again at peace and happily looking forward to drinking his very expensive imported French brandy, eating an exquisite meal prepared by his very expensive French chef, and relaxing for hours in the arms of his latest paramour, due at any moment.

Life was, indeed, very good for Dr. Anthony Milagros.

As the valet adjusted the lapels of Anthony’s exquisite dinner jacket, his butler scratched discreetly at the dressing-room door. “Enter, Bascome.” Swirling a brandy snifter around several times, Anthony took his initial sip, savoring the sweet nectar as he regarded his butler’s visage in the mirror.

The ancient gentleman gazed back.

Anthony raised his eyebrows in question and waited. They remained staring silently at each other in the mirror for quite a few moments, the tottering butler apparently unable to vocalize. Anthony finally turned toward him and finished off his drink. “Well?”

“Your lordship…” Bascome appeared distressed.

“Yes, old friend,” he said patiently and with mild humor. “I know who I am. What is it you wish to say to me?” Anthony smiled warmly at this most beloved of servants and dear old confidant. “Out with it, please. Be courageous, man. Is there a problem with the salmon? Has the cook overdone some sauce again? What is today’s disaster? What?”

As he began to fuss with the cuffs of his shirt, adjusting their length until just the proper amount of lace peeked from the sleeve of his jacket, he suddenly groaned. “If it is the champagne ices, I am afraid you will have to deal with the wine steward yourself this time. He terrifies me.”

The butler grimaced, sadly shaking his head. “Your lordship,” he intoned again, “it is with great regret that I must inform you… there is a British officer here to see you.”

Anthony froze. “Sorry? What did you say?”

“A quite massive British officer, a colonel, I believe, wishes to see you. He is in a somewhat emotional state.” Bascome removed a large white handkerchief from his cuff to dab at his brow. “Truth be told, sir, this is the first Englishman I have seen in any emotion. It is an unnerving and ugly sight and— Mother of the Divine Savior, intercede for us— he has a sword on his side that he keeps touching and— God have mercy on our souls —I believe a pistol hidden within his uniform.” The elderly butler stuffed his sodden cloth back into his pocket and attempted to stand at full attention, his arthritic five-foot-five-inch aching frame poised for the defense of his master. He dropped his voice several octaves. “Shall I summon the constabulary?”

Anthony blinked for several moments as his extremities became numb. “ Merde… I will kill her one day. Ah, I have dreams, Bascome, oh yes, wonderful dreams of a world without my dearest Amanda. We will ship her remains to Greece. I have people there you know. No one would suspect.” He studied the terrified old man and reined in his rhetoric. “I go down directly. Please pour yourself a glass of brandy. You look as if you are about to have a seizure. Put your feet up, old friend, all will be fine.” He pointed to a chair, and when he was certain his butler was settled, he turned to contemplate his own certain death.

“May I help you?” Fitzwilliam turned to see the familiar and elegant gentleman peering at him from the doorway. “Ah! Colonel Fitzwilliam, how good to see you again. It has been too long.” Despite voicing such welcoming pleasantries, however, Milagros did not approach him or extend his hand for greeting. Fitzwilliam was not displeased—it denied him the opportunity to encircle the good doctor’s throat with his hands.