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

Mrs. Fitzherbert turned her body toward Catherine, snapping open her fan. “Please ask her to keep her comments brief. Our head is beginning to ache.” Mrs. Fitzherbert sat, unasked, on the settee, with Lady Catherine beside her. Richard humbly retreated into the background, witnessing female deception and cunning at its best.

Mrs. Fitzherbert fanned herself languidly, opening her mouth once or twice but ultimately said nothing. She turned toward Lady Catherine. “Countess?”

“Mrs. Fitzherbert has come to speak to you about a very delicate matter that is causing her, as well as myself, great concern.” As she spoke, her eyes swept across the expanse of threadbare carpet. Lady Penrod swallowed hard and suddenly noticed how very threadbare that ancient Turkish carpet actually was.

“Of course, of course. To what do I owe this…?” Lady Penrod’s voice trailed off when she saw that Mrs. Fitzherbert had become quite pale. She spoke behind the privacy of her fan. “Have you brought the vinaigrette?” she whispered to Catherine. “We may have need of it. Our head is beginning to pound. There is something about these surroundings… perhaps an odor…?”

A suitable amount of time was passed in humiliating silence before the quiet was shattered by the high-pitched screech of Mrs. Fitzherbert. “I shall begin. Lady Penrod!” The woman in question jumped several inches at a sound that could just possibly slice through glass. “My husband and I have been informed of a most unnatural situation in this household regarding custody of a child.”

The little color there was in Lady Penrod’s cheeks now turned bright pink. “I beg your pardon?”

“The child in question is the son of Colonel Fitzwilliam’s wife.” Mrs. Fitzherbert turned her gaze directly at Lady Penrod. “Both my husband and I have taken a great interest in this situation, as we are both quite fond of the colonel.”

Lady Penrod’s heart stopped beating as she tried to comprehend what was being said. For several minutes, the only noise in the room was the mantel clock, her attention drifting as she considered the dual thrill and horror that the regent was even remotely aware of her existence. “I was unaware that they had married.”

Mrs. Fitzherbert’s shrill screech rang out again. “Both my husband and I would look most kindly upon a rethinking of the custody situation. Lady Catherine has assured us that her solicitors would be most willing to meet with yours to discuss a rearrangement that would be advantageous to all parties concerned.”

Lady Penrod gripped her chair arms during the ear-shattering experience. Once or twice, she opened her mouth to speak but then retreated in fear. Finally she whispered to Lady Catherine, “May I speak?”

Catherine nodded coldly.

“Please forgive my forwardness, but what possible interest would you have in this matter?” Her voice was barely audible.

Mrs. Fitzherbert raised her quizzing glass and stared, dumbstruck, for several moments. “Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam is a decorated war hero and a dear friend to our family. The colonel has honorably received your daughter-in-law in marriage and will be able to provide a most satisfactory home for the child, a child, I might add, who is only five years old and needs his mother. We would strongly recommend your immediate reassessment.”

Lady Penrod’s ears were ringing. That tone could not be natural, surely. She looked at Lady Catherine and then at the colonel, neither of whom looked as affected as she was by the pitch and tenor of that hideous voice. Her hands were shaking, and she longed to stick a finger in her ear and vigorously shake things around. “Forgive me, truly; until this moment I was unaware they had married. I thought…” The two old dragons returning her gaze stared at her blankly. “Well, I am certain that you know what I thought.” She whispered in confidence, not wishing to offend the colonel. Finally, she made a furtive little motion to stand.

Mrs. Fitzherbert gave her a look that could stop a clock. “You would not stand in our presence, would you?” Her voice clearly registered her astonishment.

“No, no. Of course not.” She sat again at the edge of her seat. “You see, my grandson is a baronet. He should be raised in this house, by people of his class and rank. Amanda is…is… an American . Would they be up to the task, do you think?” There, she could not make the problem plainer. Lady Penrod stared at them both as if this was all the explanation that was needed. The chit could not possibly be up to the task of raising an English gentleman.

Lady Catherine struggled to stand, a faint burgundy color rising up her chest into her neck and slowly spreading across her cheeks. She was furious—no, she was beyond furious. She was enraged. Mrs. Fitzherbert placed a steadying hand on her back, while she herself hid her twitching grin behind her fan. Knowing her friend’s immense pride, she wondered briefly if Catherine would soon explode.

“Are you insinuating that my nephew, I repeat, my nephew…the son of an earl, the nephew of an earl, the grandnephew of a duke, would be unequal to the task of raising a… a… baronet ?!” Fitzwilliam’s chin dropped down to his chest, and he attempted to disguise a short bark of laughter which he could no longer suppress, while Mrs. Fitzherbert’s fan rose to completely cover her face, as she too struggled for composure.

Catherine began to choke and cough. She reached back to clutch the armrest of the settee from which she had just risen, her little feet alternately slipping out from beneath her. Mrs. Fitzherbert grabbed one of her arms while the colonel quickly came forward to grab the other. He slapped her on her back once or twice, causing Catherine to turn an angry glare momentarily toward him. She finally plopped back down into her seat, her face flushed and blotched.

“But she is a papist!” Lady Penrod flinched, immediately realizing her mistake.

Mrs. Fitzherbert turned slowly to their hostess. “How dare you. We are stunned at your ignorance, madam, at your bigotry. Are you even remotely aware of the families involved here? We hope you realize, madam, that although titles cannot be refused— Lady Penrod—they can be revoked!” Mrs. Fitzherbert was shrieking in fury. Dogs blocks away began to take notice. The chandelier quivered.

“Whereas our dear colonel may very well inherit the earldom if his brother does not marry and produce an heir, your grandson may be considered too young, or your family too unworthy, of his current title. There are many scenarios that could take place with very little effort on our part. But mark me, madam, we will make that effort.”

Lady Penrod gasped, and her face went completely white.

“We also were considered unworthy, if you remember, perhaps not due to our heritage but because of our religion.” Mrs. Fitzherbert’s voice rang out clear as a bell. “We do not intend to see another good woman be tortured by small minds if we are able to assist her!”

Lady Penrod was destroyed.

Their mission clearly accomplished, Lady Catherine and Mrs. Fitzherbert rose as one, Catherine smoothing both her skirt and her bodice, returning her little feathered hat to an upright position from its resting place over her ear.

Mrs. Fitzherbert continued. “It is suggested that you contact your solicitors and discuss this situation with them. We will await your decision, say, within forty-eight hours. If you decide to be more reasonable, we shall leave you our solicitor’s card so that yours may be in contact immediately. Think hard on this, madam.”

She had saved the best for last. Looking down her long nose at the shaking woman before her, she cast a cold stare up and down the woman’s body. “Mark my words, madam. We have the power to turn society against you .” Her voice was clear, hard, and deliberate.