In the Arms of Mr. Darcy tds-4

by Sharon Lathan

  Shultz was continuing, “Some of these spinners may be repairable. I have three new mules in the warehouse and dozens of spare parts from others that have worn out. Guess we should head upstairs. At least this end of the top floor is just machinery. The raw bales are at the northern end where they are hoisted up.”

  The group made their way to the stairs, Shultz relating the warehouse inventory as they walked. The inspection was thorough, Darcy calling for parchment and quill to take detailed notes. Eventually, Richard left per Darcy’s request to secure rooms for them at the Georgian and to dispatch a note to Pemberley assuring of their safe arrival. It was a long day with Darcy and Kinnison spending the bulk of it in Shultz’s office on the ground level, bent over the desk and long table with jackets removed and shirt sleeves rolled up as they pored over invoices and inventory lists. Pages of parchment were written in Darcy’s firm hand, itemizing the damage.

  Most of the men were put to work on the cleaning and removing. Others returned to the unscathed portions of the factory where the women waited; the steam engines powered up as the sequence of milling cotton from its raw, ginned state to completed weave resumed. Cotton needed processing and orders needed filling, no one wanting to waste any more time or revenue than necessary.

  It was well after sundown when Darcy finally eased his aching, exhausted body into a hot tub. With a groan of relief, he sank into the water, eyes closing. For the first time since leaving home, he allowed his thoughts to stray toward wife and son. With clarity, he conjured the image of his family lounging in the parlor, son complacently being passed from devoted relative to relative with serious countenance breaking into sunny smiles at each face encountered. Darcy could hear the adult laughter and infant giggles as he was tickled and nuzzled, always the beloved center of attention.

  As an abrupt epiphany, it dawned on him that he would miss his baby’s one-month birthday! His eyes flew open and chest constricted in true sorrow. The ironic part was that he and Elizabeth had not talked about celebrating the date, nor had it consciously occurred to Darcy to mark it in any significant way, yet he knew without any doubt that they would have done so. In disgust, he sat up in the bathtub, irritatingly grabbing the soap and attacking his grimy skin with force.

  In London, upon the incident of their first lengthy separation, Darcy had foolishly believed that separating from his wife would grow easier with time. He now accepted that the distress merely multiplied. Now he had to add to the agony of missing Elizabeth the pain of missing Alexander. It came as a bit of a surprise to recognize how thoroughly Alexander had wrapped around his father’s heart as an individual.

  He joined Richard for a delicious and much needed full course dinner feeling depressed and subdued. Richard seemed uncommonly downcast as well, conversation was minimal, and both men retired to their rooms immediately after dinner. Darcy spent what remaining energy he possessed writing to Lizzy, telling about the day’s events and assuring her that he would be home well before the christening.

  The second day broke with Darcy renewed in his vigor to deal with all the complex issues as rapidly as possible so he could return to his family. He was surly and he knew it, but under the circumstances, no one questioned the cause. Mr. Shultz handled the manual labor aspects, Darcy and Kinnison thrilled to note that every remaining machine was up and running with six of the damaged ones revamped before the day was done. All of the debris was cleaned away and fresh timber was ordered to begin the structural repairs. Areas were rearranged to compensate for the lost space, every employee responding to the orders of Shultz and his foremen with competence. Richard donned casual attire and assisted Mr. Shultz, the military man being quite adept at both receiving and giving orders.

  Kinnison concentrated on the reordering of supplies and notification of both buyers and sellers as to the delays incurred due to the fire. Darcy focused on the finances. That there would be a substantial impact fiscally was a given, but the reality was that the combination of careful planning, diligent saving, and significant personal wealth well diversified by all three meant that the impact would readily be absorbed and overcome.

  When it came to managing the business aspects, Darcy was in his element and supremely proficient. The years of governing a vast estate had taught him how to deal with the varied array of complications that inevitably arose. Therefore, despite never facing the aftermath of a fire, praise God, Darcy instinctively and through experience dealing with other traumas knew precisely what to do.

  It was the human element that was distressing to him. As distasteful as it was in one respect, there was no option but to dismiss Haggar and Merran for imbibing alcohol while on duty. There were a number of other mills in the area where they could seek employment, but Derby was a small community and word would spread. Few employers were as strict regarding the no alcohol rule as Mr. Shultz, but a fire was universally looked upon with horror. Whether the men would be able to attain adequately paying work locally was questionable. Shultz was far more pragmatic than his partners, and he simply shrugged his shoulders, completely unmoved. Kinnison and Darcy wavered a bit, but in the end the decision was clear.

  On the third day, Darcy rode with Richard and a foreman named Rhodes to the tiny house in the middle of town where the widow Hendle resided. Mrs. Hendle greeted them with subdued politeness, eyes swollen and red. The Hendle children clustered around her, the youngest of four and five years clutching her skirts and staring with wide-eyed fright at the tall, well-dressed, formal man. The eldest, a skinny boy of thirteen, halted his chore of chopping wood and stood with sharpened axe in hand as he glowered at the men.

  Darcy bowed. “Mrs. Hendle, I am Mr. Darcy. Please accept my deepest sympathies for your loss.” She nodded, wiping at teary eyes and murmuring her thanks. Darcy continued, “I confess I did not personally know your husband, but Mr. Shultz assures me he was an excellent foreman.” He handed her a parchment wrapped bundle. “Per DKS Midlands policy, Mrs. Hendle, you will find the equivalent of one month’s salary. Your position will be held for two weeks, as you have been informed, to allow for grieving. Please let us know as soon as you possibly can what your plans are.”

  Mrs. Hendle sniffled. “This is our home, sir. We got no place to go. The mill’s been good to us so we’ll be back, me and the young ’uns.” Her hand swept the yard to encompass her son as well as the twelve-year-old girl standing behind her. “DKS has the best pay and all, we won’t go nowheres else, milord.”

  Darcy nodded, opening his mouth to speak, but the eldest son had stepped closer and interrupted with a grumble, “If it’s so great how come my da is dead?”

  “Jerome!” His mother gasped. “I am so sorry, sir! You watch your tongue young man and apologize to Mr. Darcy this instant!”

  “I will not! His stupid mill killed my da!”

  Mrs. Hendle was crying in earnest, attempting to choke out something, anything, to placate the tall, stern man with the reputation for kindness and fairness, but also stringency and nobility. Darcy cut her spluttering short with nothing more than one raised finger her direction, piercing gaze riveted on the teenager.

  Jerome flushed under Darcy’s forceful but sympathetic stare, but he bravely stared back, lifting his chin slightly as if to challenge. When Darcy spoke it was softly, but with an unmistakable edge of authority and faint contempt. “Mr. Hendle, is it your opinion that your father was a fool?”

  “No! How could you—”

  “A man makes his own decisions in life, Mr. Hendle. Your father made his. He was a miller, a foreman in my company, and trusted with tremendous responsibility. He worked hard for his place and knew precisely what it entailed. Do you mean to slander his name by insinuating he was ignorant of the risks?” He paused, allowing the grieving boy to assimilate his words. “He took great pride in his work, was brave and strong. His sacrifice will not be forgotten. Do not allow your sorrow to cloud your judgment, Mr. Hendle. I do not claim to be an expert on theological matters, but I believe that our loved ones
watch us from the Heavens. Do you wish for your father to witness your disrespect?”

  Jerome shook his head shortly, eyes now downcast and axe fallen to rest on the ground, but he held his back straight and shoulders firm. Darcy smiled faintly, glancing to Mrs. Hendle and nodding slightly. The poor woman was speechless, tears falling in huge glistening drops down her cheeks.

  “You are the man of the house now, Mr. Hendle. Make your father proud. Mrs. Hendle, you have my sympathies. If there is anything you require, Mr. Shultz will assist you.”

  She curtseyed shakily, Darcy bowing again before he turned and mounted Parsifal. Rhodes leaned close and said, “I will keep a close eye on that boy, Mr. Darcy. He may give us trouble.”

  “There is no need. Take him out of the spinning room, away from his mother. Give him more responsibility. The carding machine, I think. Work him hard for a while, exhaust him, and he will give you no trouble.” Rhodes looked dubious, Darcy smiling grimly and finishing with confidence as they rode away, “Trust me, I know how best to deal with grief.”

  “Today is Alexander’s birthday and I am missing it.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam, out of uniform and comfortable in a black suit of wool, peered over the rim of his wine glass at the morose cousin sitting across their secluded table in the Georgian’s opulent dining hall. Darcy was staring at his plate, mien serious as he played with the remains of dinner, fork absently scoring trenches through a small pile of mashed yams. Richard frowned, completely at a loss as to what Darcy meant.

  “Ah, Cousin, unless I have slept through all of 1818, a year has not passed.”

  Darcy chuckled, putting down his fork and picking up his own wine glass. “No, I meant his one-month birthday.”

  Richard raised his brows. “Do people actually celebrate such a thing? I certainly pray you did not expect me to provide a present. This could become costly after a time.”

  “No gifts or parties. I just wanted to be there is all.” He sighed, sitting back in the chair. “I miss my family, Richard.” He took a sip, glancing to his cousin’s humorous face. “Go ahead, laugh. Make a joke. I need to be cheered.”

  Richard shrugged. “I was just thinking that there was a time when all you needed in life was my sparkling personality and delightful company. How things change!”

  Darcy laughed in earnest. “Never have I thought you were all I needed, my friend, but you do in a pinch.”

  Richard lifted his glass in salute. “We shall be back at Pemberley in a day or two. You seem to have things well in hand, and there really are no reasons to stay around for the reconstruction, are there?”

  “I do not want to desert my partners, but I suppose I can complete the rest from home. It is primarily paperwork from here on. Mr. Keith and I will work on it, and I will likely send him to London next month. I refuse to leave again, barring another catastrophe. It is too difficult.”

  Richard was smiling at his once again morose cousin now fiddling with his wedding ring, a gleam of something indiscernible in his eyes. “I know I have said it before, but it still shocks me how profoundly matrimony has affected you.”

  “And I have said it before, wait until it is your turn. It is marvelous, beautiful, the very best feeling in the world. Love and now fatherhood. Ach! I need to go home! Tomorrow afternoon, Richard. We will be home by dinner. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Do you remember Lord Fotherby?”

  Darcy blinked in surprise. “Naturally. One of our greatest members of Parliament. How could I not? Terrible loss to our country when he passed. Why do you ask?”

  Richard looked embarrassed, ruddy face flushing further. “Well, he has been a friend to our family for decades, as you know, he and our grandfather contemporaries. Considering his age, I guess none of us were too surprised at his death, but then again there are some people who seem immortal. He was so spry.”

  “He assuredly was spry. We saw him in London and I never would have imagined him dying a few months later. He was dancing with his wife at Lord Ivers’s ball more often than Elizabeth and me. Yes, a shock and loss to be sure.” He noted Richard’s grimace, chuckling and leaning forward. “So are you going to tell me the thought behind this line of questioning?”

  “It is entirely your fault you know. Walking about with that ridiculous grin all the time, peace and tranquility oozing from every pore, and pardon my crudeness, but the obvious sexual satisfaction radiating continually is enough to make the most confirmed bachelor vacillate!”

  Darcy grinned, flushing slightly and ducking his head in embarrassment, but not in the least offended. “Whom are we talking about? The lucky lady to turn my wayward cousin’s heart and bring me such utter joy as I now can tease him mercilessly in return? Pray tell!”

  “Go easy on me, Darcy. I think I am in love, yes, but I am caught up in my own Shakespearean tragedy.”

  “Does this have to do with Miss Ulster? I would have imagined the Admiral presenting her on a silver platter if you asked. No, wait!” Suddenly the pieces fell into place and he gazed at his cousin with amazement. “You are speaking of Lady Fotherby.”

  “Now you see my dilemma?”

  “When did this take place? How could you…? I mean, she has only been widowed for a few months and sequestered at the estate in Buckinghamshire I understand.”

  “Very well, you want the sordid details? I have known Lady Fotherby nearly all my life if you recollect. Her mother and mine have been friends since their society days, although I paid her scant attention, I confess, until University. I would encounter the then Lady Simone Halifax at various soirees and balls. You were there upon occasion, Darcy. She had matured into a true beauty and so utterly perfect.”

  He paused, shaking his head and taking a drink of wine. “Timing is everything, I have come to believe,” his voice low as he swirled the red liquid and lost himself in musings. “Certainly this is true in military matters, but also in life and love. I knew I loved her and that she returned the affection. What could I do about the feelings I had? I was young and naïve with dreams of glory in battle and killing Napoleon personally, far too foolish to recognize true love. Not that I could have done a thing about it as a second son with a small inheritance.” He shrugged. “By the time I could possibly give matrimony any serious consideration, she was long since married to Lord Fotherby.”

  “I remember you fancied her a bit but had no idea the emotions were deep. Forgive me, my friend, I never knew.”

  “Oh, be still, William. I cannot proclaim to any great passion. Again, I was young and not sparing undue contemplation on a hopeless situation. It is more the wisdom of age that enables me to relive the feelings and see them for what they were. That and you all dreamy and radiating disgusting happiness every waking hour of the day.”

  Darcy smiled and Richard laughed, both men silent for a while. “I had not seen her in years. The rumors would reach my ears from time to time. Her marriage to the far older Lord Fotherby, the birth of their two children, the elaborate galas at their homes in Town and High Wycombe. I wondered, as I am sure so many others did, whether the marriage was based on affection or merely an old man wanting a young wife.” He shook his head and grimaced. “Whatever the case, I pushed it all aside until two seasons ago when I saw her at the symphony. It was all back in a rush. Quite took my breath away, actually.”

  “That is how it was to see Elizabeth at Rosings and later at Pemberley, and every day when I wake next to her, matter of fact. Must have been horrible for you. I am so sorry and wish you had shared with me.”

  “Shared that I am in love with another man’s wife? Yes, I can only imagine how you would have accepted that news! Your sense of morality would have been highly offended and the prudish expressions and lecturing would not have been welcome, I can assure you.”

  “You did not act on your inclinations, and when it comes to losing the woman you love, I can fully comprehend the agony. No, I would not have lectured, Cousin. In fact, I am not now offended an
d actually a bit confused. Why do you see it as a tragedy, Richard? As sad as the passing of Lord Fotherby, it does free her, given appropriate mourning period of course. And now you are in a better position to offer yourself as suitor.”

  “I suppose, although it seems rather distasteful to consider it at this juncture. The man is barely cold in his grave. Besides…” He stopped, lips pressed together and face filled with a rare bitterness.

  “What? Do you judge there no chance she may return your interest?”

  “Difficult to ascertain, under the circumstances. We spoke a few times at various functions in Town. Lord and Lady Fotherby were everywhere, to my dismay. She was polite and proper, our conversations always restrained and in the presence of others. It was probably just my romantic fancy overwhelming me, but I sensed a current between us. Fills me with guilt even to contemplate the subject! Lord, Darcy, I am not capable of judging! I am a soldier. How can I compare to a man of Lord Fotherby’s caliber?”

  “Oh, nonsense! You are a nobleman’s son, an officer of His Majesty’s army, young and dashingly handsome, rich, charming. Need I go on? You have far more to offer than even the famous Lord Fotherby, no matter how virile he may have been in his seniority.” He sat back and picked up his glass. “I really cannot tell you precisely how to proceed. I believe in fate, but also think one needs to encourage it along.”

  Silence descended yet again, plates cleared by servants, and the dessert course served before either man spoke. Darcy was shaken by the atypical expression of sadness on Colonel Fitzwilliam’s face, having come to rely on his irrepressible affability. When he broke the quiet, his voice was husky with emotion.

  “I saw her a couple of weeks ago. Mother insisted on diverting northwest to pay her respects as friend to her mother. We only stayed the afternoon, had teas and cakes. Father related fond memories of Lord Fotherby in action during sessions of the House of Lords. Lady Fotherby smiled kindly, but did not seem comfortable with the topic. Even in the black of mourning she was beautiful.” He sighed deeply. “How can you judge a woman’s face, William? Especially when so controlled?”