Fitzwilliam planned his next move: when they rounded the corner where they’d reach the city center, he’d have more room to maneuver around their two captors. Just as he reached for his hidden rapier, they were confronted by a large band of Revolutionaries. Fitzwilliam saw that there were at least seven men, all in various levels of uniform, as well as a high-ranking commander who led them. With them as well was a horse-drawn wooden box, which housed at least a dozen poor souls who looked destined for the chopping block. “Ho!” the commander called to the captain, “what have we here?”
The captain straightened up and saluted the commander, “Theriot, sir! We caught them with this villain,” gesturing to Fitzwilliam, “trying to escape the justice they have coming!”
The commander held a bemused look on his face, “Such a strange thing. This lot was also found during a particularly poor escape attempt. All part of the protest at Versailles, were they not?”
“Protest?” Fitzwilliam questioned, looking first to the captain, then to his wards. Mona nodded her head in agreement. He knew nothing of the protest, or of the others who had been captured, but it seemed quite obvious that this had been their crime.
“We do not care about the republic,” Mona Theriot, standing in the cart with the other captives, explained, “We just want the executions to st--”
“Silence!” ordered the commander, then, addressing the captain, he continued, “What was your intention with them?”
The captain shrunk, but said feebly, “We were on the way to the guillotine, sir”
“Nonsense,” replied the commander. “We will allow them to be executed in the proper manner. So that justice will be served, yes?”
The captain lowered his head and nodded in agreement.
“YES?” The commander insisted.
“Yes, sir,” the two soldiers responded.
“Along with you, gentlemen, back to your post for the night.” The commander shooed the two soldiers away, and they went begrudgingly. And the Theriots, along with Fitzwilliam, were loaded into the wagon along with the other prisoners, and the procession headed off into the night. When they had travelled for a distance, a young woman standing next to Fitzwilliam grabbed him by the elbow and locked eyes with him. She had a smile to her face. “We are rescued.” she whispered to him excitedly.
Fitzwilliam stood on his toes and looked around wildly for Bayard or his men, thinking they had come riding in to save the day. It was not so. All he saw were pale French houses lit by the last moon he would ever see. He looked back at the woman and she was shaking her head vigorously, while she pointed towards the front of the caravan. Towards the commander himself. Bayard.
Fitzwilliam realized as well that the entire group of revolutionaries was comprised of his devious companions. At first he smiled, then he began to laugh. Then, he cried, and he told the Theriot family what he had learned. They all breathed a sigh of relief, and a general ruckus was short-lived in the back of the cart, with men and women hugging each other with no shortage to their surplus of joy. “Quiet now,” said Bayard, the commander, “Long way to go, you know.”
And they carried on into the night.
When they reached port, they quickly boarded the single, small boat docked behind an old mill. The rescued were instructed to quietly board, needing to squeeze in tight, so all would fit. Fitzwilliam and Bayard went along with them, while the other men in league with the Scarlet Pimpernel returned to their undercover lives in nearby towns.
After their boat safely sailed a few miles out to sea, they came to the spot where several smaller fishing boats awaited them. Each of the rescued parties was sent on its separate ways. Many were put aboard different ships, set for destinations unknown to Fitzwilliam. For his part, he gathered the Theriots back onto Bayard’s own ship and told them of their new lives in London. He was already sure of a nice house where they could stay, and he would make sure to send word to Cousin Anna, so that she could come along and see her new English family.
For much of the trip, Fitzwilliam stood in silence, contemplating the rolling sea and the fog, which was just thick enough to weigh down the night air. He again removed the picture of Kitty and considered his life he wanted to have with her. He thought of how nearly he had lost that life and all the joy that was sure to come with it! He knew that he did not have a life to spare, and he decided that his would belong to Kitty and hers to him. He would return home, marry her, and leave the rescues to Bayard and his men.
“Are you sure I cannot talk you out of it?” said Bayard, approaching from the port side of the ship with a knowing smile on his face.
“Of what?” Fitzwilliam feigned ignorance.
Bayard nodded at him, “It is that look. I have seen it before. You felt the cold brush of death against your face, and you are giving all of this up to live the life that you deserve. It is a shame,” Bayard sighed.
“What?”
“Losing a great man like yourself, cunning and brave and with the right amount of loyalty to get yourself into and out of trouble, I would say.”
Fitzwilliam smiled and tried to pose a question to Bayard that he had been wondering. “The protest, the other prisoners…I did not know…”
Bayard looked at him, with a glint in his eye, “Fitzwilliam, do you not know that the best distractions are the ones when others do not know they are your diversions? You’re a fine actor but sometimes it is even more convincing still, when our true feelings come through.”
Fitzwilliam nodded, and the two men embraced.
“I cannot make up your mind for you, but I need a few good men like you, and you will always have a place at my side, should you want it.”
“Many thanks,” Fitzwilliam said. “For now, I must return to my beloved Kitty and live my life for her. However, should you ever have need of my service in London, you must not hesitate to call.”
“Will do,” replied Bayard, his friend, and his commander.
The ship arrived at port, and the men donned their most useful disguises: their daily lives, each man slipping into a sea of people in the busy harbor, becoming nobodies, and pretending that was all they were, and all they would be. For his part, Fitzwilliam pulled his hat low and smiled to himself, for he was off to see Kitty. And he slipped into that sea of humanity and became just one more, to anyone who might be looking.
Chapter Fifteen
The tide had gotten the bottoms of their clothing wet by the time they headed back to the cottage. The old woman gave them a knowing look and gestured to her cooking, letting them know that supper would be done soon. The couple headed to their room, and Georgiana couldn't help but give Alex's hand a squeeze.
"We should do this again tomorrow," she murmured, looking for another skirt that she could wear.
"We still have a many other things to do here, my darling," Alex said. "There is so much that we should see."
"I know," she said, smiling and kissing him lightly, "and as long as I am with you, we can do anything."
The next day they had set out in that morning to see another small town Alex wanted to show her. After spending the entire day exploring the area, he was amazed that she did not seem the least bit tired.
Alex knew they should start for their home. However he could not bring himself to cut her excitement short, even now. Georgiana looked absolutely stunning in the late evening light, with the last trailing hints of sun lingering stubbornly just above. As they rode in the gondola, the water reflected the light of candles near the water's edge. He could hear the faint sound of music from one of the nearby restaurants. “Shall we have dinner before we head home?” he suggested as he looked around, seeking out the source of the music.
“That sounds lovely,” Georgiana pried her eyes away from the beautiful scenery to gaze at Alex with a broad smile as she clutched the small map she had picked up to her chest. “The day certainly flew by. And there is still so much to see. It is a wonder we did not get lost.”
“Well, we have an excellent map re
ader in our company.” He reached over and took her hand, bringing it up to place a light kiss on it.
“I thought perhaps having a guided boat tour was useful as well,” she quipped, as a small smile crossed her face.
“There is that as well,” the young man said as he gestured for the gondolier to steer them toward the water's edge.
His wife gave a soft laugh as her eyes started wandering over their surroundings once again. “I am rather hungry.”
The tables in the restaurant were all lit with candles surrounded by clusters of fresh flowers. Soft conversation could be heard buzzing as a violin played in the back. Alex could not help but feel pleased at their finding such a charming place. He could not have planned a better setting to end off their day of exploring.
Georgiana stared intently at the oil paintings that lined the wall. Alex studied the closest of them. He could not recognize the style. But then again much of Italy had changed since his last trip. The town seemed torn between a return to the classic structures and newer architecture. At first glance, the paintings were not especially impressive. Nothing seemed to rival the artworks displayed in the halls of Pemberly. However, something about the paintings had a certain allure to them that he could not quite place. Despite their unconventional style, they held a certain fascination that drew the eye. In a way, they reminded him of Georgiana. When he first met her, he did not think of her one way or the other. But the more he watched her, the more he could not take his eyes off her. Eventually, he had realized the young woman was exactly what he had been looking for all this time. “Excuse me.” He turned to wave down one of the staff, a glimmer of inspiration in his eyes.
Chapter Sixteen
Kitty stood up by her sister. This made four times she was a bridesmaid, between the weddings of her sisters and friends. She forced herself to stay in the moment and not think about Fitzwilliam. He could take care of himself. If only she did not know of other soldiers who had thought the same, but who never did return to those they loved.
Those they loved. Did Fitzwilliam love her? Did he cherish the sketch he carried around of her? He had shown his partiality for her, but had it lasted during the time they were parted? She had not heard from him in weeks.
Kitty's attention was caught by the words man and wife. Mary was now Mrs. Joseph. Mary Joseph. Kitty could not suppress a smile. It really was the perfect name for her sister. She really was happy for her. Mr. Joseph had already proven himself a loyal brother to her after the Mr. Covington situation. He was not dashing, and though he tried hard to talk less, at times he could still talk a hind leg off a donkey. But Mr. Bennet had warmed up to the young man, and he really was a good, steady fellow whom Mary could always depend on.
Her mind went to the last letter she had received from Georgiana. Alex had hunted down a local painter because Georgiana liked something they made! All so he could commission them to paint a picture of Georgiana and Alex for their new home. “To immortalize their stay in Italy” she had written.
As the newlyweds walked out, the guests followed. They all made their way to Longbourn for the wedding breakfast Mrs. Bennet had made sure would satisfy even the most critical neighbor. It was, in actuality, more of a feast than a breakfast. As everyone took their places, Kitty looked around at the happy faces of her sisters, their husbands and children. She loved moments like this when they were all together, but today she felt emptiness in her heart. Gwendolyn Darcy, often referred to as Wendy, came over to show her aunt a kumquat. Mischievous Harry Bingley had wanted Wendy to taste it, but when his timid cousin refused, he had their Aunt Kitty do it instead. Kitty bit into the sour fruit just as a tall figure walked up to the table and stood in front of her. “I am sorry to keep you waiting.”
She looked up with squelched face and above all other voices loudly said, "Fitzwilliam!" Choking on the mouthful of the peel, she began to cough. She reached for her glass of water and gulped it down as she sputtered in between coughs. Everyone's attention was now turned towards her. Harry was patting her on the back. She stood up, and in between the remnants of coughs, she said, "Fitzwilliam, you are safe!" Tears welled up in her eyes and began to spill over onto her cheeks.
"There, there, I am fine! Did I not tell you I would return to you?"
Hearing these words, Kitty's temper flared up as she looked up at him with her tear stained face. "You also said you would write to me! Why did I not receive a single letter? It has been eight weeks, Colonel Fitzwilliam!" She said as she hit him with her bridesmaid’s bouquet.
Fitzwilliam began to chuckle at the display of her temper, finding it very amusing. "It could not be avoided, I assure you. I am here now, my dear. And may I say, you are just as beautiful as the last time I saw you angry."
"Kitty, Colonel?" Elizabeth interjected. "Shall we adjourn to the library?"
Kitty realized for the first time, that everyone was staring at them and quickly fled to the library. Elizabeth, Darcy, Mr. Bennet and Fitzwilliam soon joined her.
“Why did not you send a message? We were all worried! I could have died of worry, for goodness’ sake!” she blurted out. “And now I have made a spectacle of myself in front of the entire town when I have been trying so hard to be a refined lady!" she said as her tears started to flow again.
“I had to help a friend from a tight spot, but everything is fine now. I am free of my duties. Darling, it could not be avoided. I will explain all, but please, no more tears! All is well.” he said. Kate’s eyes lit up with hope.
“You will not accept another mission? Will you settle down for good?” she asked. Richard nodded.
“I came back for my horse and to marry the unfortunate woman. I see she has been so worried about me. That is very sweet.”
Lizzy turned and asked Mr. Bennet, "I seem to be confused here, Papa. Is there an understanding between them?"
"Yes, yes, he has my blessing. Now what say you, let us get back to the wedding at hand, shall we? Before rumors begin to fly," he added as he raised his eyebrows.
Mr. Darcy handed his sister-in-law a handkerchief to begin drying her eyes.
"Wait!" Kitty managed to get out as she tried to steady her emotions while wiping away the tears.
"Do you have a ring for me?"
Fitzwilliam chuckled, "It is in my saddlebag as we speak. I planned to formally propose in a more romantic setting and then present it to you."
"That would have been very lovely, and I would still like to hear all you have to say on the matter. But I need to have a ring on my finger when I leave this room, lest others gossip that we did not have an understanding and that I acted unladylike."
"You have my undivided attention, my dear. How do you suggest I am to retrieve the ring without being seen leaving this room?"
Kitty considered this for a moment before saying, "Well, you could go out through the window and come back in the same way without any of the guest being the wiser."
"Oh, for heaven sakes, just tell me where the ring is, Fitzwilliam, and I shall go retrieve it myself!" said an exasperated Mr. Darcy.
He soon came back with the little box. In it was an exotic looking opal encircled by alternating tiny blue stones and seed pearls. Within minutes everyone went back to Mr. and Mrs. Joseph's wedding breakfast. Kitty happily displayed her ring on her left hand for all to see.
Chapter Seventeen
The Darcys stopped for a few days at Bethany House, with Kitty in tow, on leaving Longbourn.
“Darcy and I have come up with a fantastic idea for this summer, ladies. We would like to host a special event for the children, one from which the adults will benefit as well,” began Mr. Bingley.
“We call it Plan ABBDI, Another Brilliant Bingley and Darcy Idea!” Mr. Darcy said. “Our first mutual venture was to marry the Bennet sisters, and that could not have turned out better. We make quite a team, Bingley, if I do say so myself.”
“ABBDI, say that is not bad, Darcy! Did you just come up with it?” asked his friend.
“Yes, straight off the cuff,” was Mr. Darcy’s reply.
“I like it!” Mr. Bingley said.
Lizzy and Jane looked at each other. One smiled, the other smiled, rolled her eyes, and shook her head before saying, “You two are incorrigible. May we hear your brilliant plan?”
“Which one? We have so many?” asked Mr. Darcy, looking at his wife with mischief in his eyes. He had learned over the years how to best playfully provoke his wife’s high spirits, which made her eyes sparkle.
“The brilliant plan for our children this summer,” she slowly answered. Lizzy held her husband’s gaze, trying to display the exasperated countenance she was playing at. But as usual, she could not maintain it when he looked at her like that. She had to give in to the laughter that could not be suppressed any longer.
Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy and The Scarlet Pimpernel Page 8
