“Or, perhaps the news from the Admiralty was nothing more than a distraction of some sort, possibly a misunderstanding; or, a jest.”
She realized the truth then. Matthew had known all along where Alex and Ewan were for the morning because he’d been to one to send Alex that message – a ruse to ensure he would not be disturbed when confronting her. He probably stopped the maid from delivering her message to Alex as well. Furious, she turned on him, desperately wanting to scream. “I do not appreciate my husband being inconvenienced for a jest.”
Matthew ignored her to concentrate solely on Ewan. “The family cousins will be thrilled with your joining them. Every Christmas we struggle to come up with enough experienced players, you would be helping us out tremendously. You’re a good skater, I hear.”
“Father says I’m an excellent midfielder too, although I dinnae get to play often as I’d like.”
Matthew nodded. And your step-father’s a useless cripple. “That is a shame. Well, I can see you’re strong. How much do you weigh?”
“Stop this!”
Ewan jumped at Bridget’s sudden outburst. “Mummy, what’s happened? Are ye angry?”
“No, Ewan, not with you; never with you. However, Lord Fitzwilliam is taking too much for granted!”
“Lady Durand. I meant no offence and if I have overstepped my bounds, forgive me. My only thought was that you would wish your son to enjoy his stay here, no? My nephews and their friends are home from school, all are from excellent families, I can assure you; and, you certainly cannot expect the boy to stay locked up in a room when there’s all of London to see. Never fear, he will be welcomed into our family with open arms. As if he were one of our own.
“Let me see, there will be private family gatherings Christmas Day of course; however, the family is going on a sleighride immediately after Christmas, and there shall be a huge skating party coming up in January before the aristocracy return to their estates and the boys leave for school – which is another reason Amanda and Birdy are so single minded in their lessons. Lady Durand, I am certain Ewan would enjoy all of that.”
“Oh, Mama, doesn’t it sound grand? May I? Please? We really shouldna leave. It will be months and months ‘til we see Papa again if we return home now.”
“You are leaving, Lady Durand? I had no idea. I know it is none of my concern; however, wouldn’t London be a very lonely place for your husband without you and the boy? And you mentioned his health is just returning – why in the world would you abandon him?”
“I am not abandoning him, sir! I would never abandon him on his own. He will have his brother and sister-in-law here, and it will be for only a few months. We can visit him later, perhaps.”
“Mummy, is that true? Is Papa still sick? Oh, no; I shouldna want to leave Papa now. I would worry about him. And the Darcy’s and the Fitzwilliam’s are nearly family, you know; and, the cousins must be fun if they’re anything like Birdy and Amanda. Oh, please, Mama, please, may we stay!”
“We would be intruding, Ewan.”
“Nonsense.” Matthew brushed a nonexistent fleck from his sleeve. “Not in the least. We should love for him to join us.”
“I was speaking with my son!”
“Sorry, just trying to help.”
“Well, you’re not. Now, Ewan, we shall say no more on this subject until I discuss it with your father.”
“But, ye know he’ll do anything you say, he always does!”
“Your schoolwork, Ewan!”
“Mama, I can study with the others, Lord Fitzwilliam said I could! I dinnae ken – I mean, I do not understand why you’re being so mean about this. Birdy says–”
“Enough. This is neither the time nor place, Ewan. Now go to your room and wash for tea.”
“But –”
“I said we will discuss this later! Go to your room!”
“All right,” the boy groused. “But, may I say this is grossly unfair. I dinnae – I mean I do not understand you at all, Mama, I really don’t! Good bye to ye, sir. Please, make my good-byes to Amanda and everyone else for me since I shall probably never be allowed outside ever again, at least until I am very old and dead. No one ever listens to what I want; I never have any fun…” And he continued grumbling under his breath as he stomped off to his room, slamming the door behind him.
“You are despicable.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“You did that deliberately!”
“Yes, of course I did. I told you, Bridget, despite your duplicity I will have my son, I’ll never give him up – you’d best accustom yourself.” Matthew strolled to the door, self-satisfied with her distress. “I am pleased with him Bridget; very pleased. He has spirit! And quite the temper, just like his father.”
“Don’t you dare say another word against Alex!” Bridget hissed, nearly in tears. “He is the kindest, dearest, most decent man I have ever met!”
“That may very well be; however, I wasn’t referring to Alex. Good day. Now don’t forget about the skating party after Boxing Day. You and the boy can sit with me.”
Matthew moved swiftly down the staircase and out into the cold, feeling better now than when he’d entered. If all went well perhaps his son would be living nearby, even attending Harrow in a few years. Matthew could visit him as often as he liked then; and, best of all, he’d be out from under the influence of that cripple, damn him.
Kathy and George’s son, James, had just been enrolled in boarding school – in fact, that was all the lad spoken of these days, and most especially playing on the cricket team as his father and grandfathers had, years before. The lads could attend together; James was such a charismatic boy, strong and robust like Ewan. Matthew considered that for a moment and began to chuckle. And wasn’t Alice and Harry’s lad, Bill, in his final year at Harrow – as was George and Kathy’s son Benedict, another excellent young man. He would introduce them all to Ewan quickly as possible, begin setting the wheels in motion. Throw in Oxford student Will Fitzwilliam – the undisputed leader of the Darcy and Fitzwilliam cousins – and, Ewan would be screaming to remain in London forever.
And, if Ewan remained in London, possibly so would Bridget.
Why should I care?
He closed his eyes. Because he wanted her.
The stupid woman still had a grip on his heart, sent his blood pulsing; she was desirable as ever, damned if she wasn’t. Fire and Frost – he had missed those ice shards and sparks between them, aching arousals, explosive completions. The intense feelings between them were still there, the passion undeniable. She may not like him, but she desired him yet.
Soon, Bridget, soon…
Bridget watched from her window above as Matthew left, heard the doorman’s unctuous words of farewell, watched as others stood back, staring in awe at someone so obviously above them in station, gaping at his huge black carriage pulled by four magnificent Fresian horses, gaping at the liveried footmen. She heard the cheering as gold coins were tossed out to the children. How could she fight such a man? How could she resist him? She should have let him know about Ewan long before, but the dislike between her husband and Matthew frightened her. Alex was so good, so kind. She loved Alex with all her heart; but… not in the way she had loved Matthew; the way she still loved Matthew. Therein lay the real reason for her silence these years, the true problem. She prayed nothing bad was going to come from all this.
From his room Ewan watched the impressive gentleman leave, giggling because it really was so comical to see everyone dart about and fall over themselves. But it was the man himself who fascinated. Why did he feel so drawn to Amanda’s father, and to Amanda herself for that matter? She didn’t appeal to him the way pretty Birdie did – something he’d rather have his tongue ripped out than admit. If only he could have spoken with Lord Fitzwilliam longer.
“Ewan,” he heard his mother call. “Would you like hot chocolate?”
“Oh, yes, Mama,” he replied, then returned to the wash basin to dry his hands a
nd face.
Chapter 7
Darcy was greeted warmly at the door of White’s Gentleman’s Club, his coat, hat and gloves taken by none other than the establishment’s manager himself. “It is very good to see you this afternoon, Mr. Darcy. If you will follow me, Lord Fitzwilliam is awaiting you in the coffee room.”
“You seem in a good mood today, Royce. Is Lord Clarendon arrived, then?”
“Who? Oh. No, sir, not as yet. However…” a smug grin spread across the manager’s face. He cleared his throat. “We do have a most distinguished nobleman from the Continent visiting with us today. He is, at this very moment, seated with Lord Fitzwilliam – an incredibly illustrious gentleman. The visitor I mean.”
The establishment’s administrator glanced about to ensure others were listening as they walked through the room. “The Duke of Aliaga y Castellot – a Grande de Espana no less. A Royal Duke of the Spanish Court. I doubt Brooks could best that. And, one has it on good authority that his grace is a direct descendant of none other than Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand.”
“My goodness. Right here at Whites? Fancy that.”
“Yes. Quite an honor.”
“And you have allowed him to be seated with Lord Fitzwilliam?”
Darcy saw terror dawn in the man’s eyes. “Perhaps we should hurry.” Having by now reached the door to the coffee room Royce smoothed his hair, straightened his cuffs and surreptitiously checked his breath. He opened the door for Darcy to enter then stopped just inside doorway when they heard inhuman shrieks.
A dozen or so terrified men stood among tables and chairs to the far left, while on the far right a tall, dark, and distinguished nobleman was repeatedly smacking Lord Fitzwilliam’s head with an antique magnifying glass.
“Stop hitting me you damnable Spaniard!” Fitz made several unsuccessful attempts to grab the handle. “Are you insane? Give me that!”
“Sapo! Que te folle un pez,” the Grande de Espana shouted in return, turning at the sound of Darcy’s burst of laughter. “Guillermo! How do you put up with this pendejo all these years?” Just in time he saw the cup of coffee Fitzwilliam was about to toss at him, and he jumped back. “Bastardo! You are most fortunate that I moved out of the way before you poured that vile liquid on me. If you had ruined these ivory buttons, I would have taken you to court.” Milagros brushed imaginary smudges from his sleeve.
“You look as preposterous as Darcy.”
“This, my ignorant friend, is my yachting club jacket. Impressive, no?”
“No. And when did you begin wearing bowler hats? Makes you look like a pimple.” Fitzwilliam dug out his pipe and began searching in his pockets for his tobacco pouch. He was thrilled to see his old friend again, even if their banter terrified the surrounding tables.
Dr. Anthony Milagros, now the distinguished Duke of Aliaga y Castellot, had been family physician to the Fitzwilliam and Darcy families for many years, having met them through Richard Fitzwilliam’s late wife, Amanda; and had, over time, become accepted as family. In some ways his life had mirrored Richard Fitzwilliam’s. Both had fallen out of favor with their fathers over life choices made as young men, and both had eventually inherited their family titles through the death of an older brother. It was an outcome neither of them wanted – Anthony had cherished his work as a doctor, and Richard had enjoyed overseeing the Board of Ordnance. However, it was also an outcome neither could refuse.
Milagros snatched the pipe from Fitz and handed it to Darcy. “Enough! Now sit still.”
However, that was an impossibility for Fitz. “What in the world is the matter with your hand? Why does it shake like that?”
“I am old. How would you prefer it to shake?”
“I would prefer it not shake at all when you’re poking in my ear like this. Ow! Bloody hell, that hurt!”
“Nonsense, I didn’t feel a thing. Aha! There is the cause of your hearing problem.”
“Well? What is it?”
“Someone fetch me a long hook, perhaps a chisel and hammer…”
“Anthony!”
It was sometime later, the chaos in the room settled down, when Darcy, Fitzwilliam and Milagros could sit at their favorite table, begin manly gossip, smoke their pipes, and enjoy afternoon tea.
“I half expected you to run screaming from the room, Fitz. Did you really believe I would shove a hook in your ear?”
“I knew all along you weren’t serious – you weren’t, were you? See. By the way, I feel dreadful about that unfortunate palsy remark I made to you.”
“Oh, you do not.”
“Not really, no. Ah, the food has arrived at last. Pass me those sandwiches, would you, Anthony? Dear me, there goes that hand again, you’d best pass me the entire tray. Wouldn’t want the food to go flying about. Thank you.”
Darcy snatched the cucumber sandwich dish from Fitz before he took them all. “You’re looking very well, Anthony.”
“I know, isn’t it marvelous. I see appreciative glances wherever I go.”
“You certain it isn’t whenever you leave?”
Anthony sat back, stared at Fitz in total silence. Curious, Fitzwilliam looked up from his mince pie. “Whatever have I said now?”
With a huff, Anthony turned his attention to Darcy once again. “You look splendid as well, Guillermo; you never seem to age.”
“It’s in one’s heritage – my father always appeared years younger than he was. And, of course, I try to eat sensibly, walk briskly each day, limit my smoking and drinking.”
“As a physician I often notice that an excessively overweight man rarely sees old age. Speaking of which, Fitzwilliam, you’ve written your will I hope?”
“Pardon me? I should call you out for that. I’m not fat.”
“As compared to what? Your chubby arms can barely lift high enough to reach the table. By the way Darcy, I love the cut of your coat. You must give me the name of your tailor.”
Richard motioned a servant over. “Yes, sir.”
“Ask someone to bring me a shovel, please.”
“That was delicious. Now for a good pipe and coffee.” Darcy dabbed his mouth with his napkin and pushed his plate away, motioning for the waiter. “So, Anthony, I assume the responsibilities of your title give you little time for medicine these days.”
“Unfortunate, but true. However, I do find time to work on various medical boards, try to keep up on the latest innovations.”
“Good for you. You’ll need to revisit your old hospital then. I’m certain you’ve heard that Florence Nightingale has opened a school for nursing there, first of its kind.”
“Yes, isn’t she marvelous? I definitely am planning to visit as I am interested in introducing her procedures to the medical community in my city. She was very helpful in Crimea, saved so many lives. Her methods are remarkable.”
Richard motioned for more brandy to be poured. “When did you arrive in London?”
“Only this morning. Tomorrow I shall be taking the earliest train available to Windsor for the funeral; but, naturally, I could not resist stopping en route to enjoy a long visit with Elizabeth and Darcy, and all my beloved friends here in London. Unfortunately, you were here today as well.”
Fitz cupped his ear. “What was that?”
Laughing, Anthony blew a smoke ring into the air.
“And, I suppose you insist on supping at my home this evening?”
“But of course, Richard. Your Mrs. Nash is an excellent cook.”
Darcy leaned back in his chair. “You will be returning to London after the funeral, will you not, so you can join Elizabeth and the family for dinner at Pemberley House as well?”
“I should be delighted. Your cook is even better than his.”
Fitzwilliam sighed. “In that case you’d better remain at my house over Christmas. The grandchildren enjoy your visits for some profound reason.”
“Meg and Beth have already invited me – we correspond regularly. Do try and keep up. Ah, marvelous, look’s who’s arr
ived!”
“Is this a private party?”
Darcy turned to see his son George, along with Fitzwilliam’s sons Mark and Luke, striding toward them. “Gentlemen, well met. Come and join us.”
“Good day, everyone.” Mark squeezed his father’s shoulder then shook hands with Darcy. “My god, but it is wonderful to see you, Uncle Tony; it’s been too long. Meg and Beth told us you were visiting so we came here straight away. I hear you are on your way to The Funeral?”
“Si, I’m on the first train out in the morning.”
Luke joined his brother in greeting Anthony, then motioned at his father’s tobacco pouch. “You are not to smoke as much as you do, you know that.”
“I rarely smoke these days, only after the occasional meal.”
“Give it here.”
Fitzwilliam grunted then tossed the pouch to him. Luke was another of his bossy children Fitz wished would marry instead of monitoring his every move. There was little chance of that though. Women adored Luke – too many women. At this rate he’d never have an heir.
“Stop grumbling, Papa. You smoke too damn much, you know you do, your doctors know you do – we all know you do. You need a keeper.” He filled his own pipe with his father’s tobacco then settled back in his chair. “By the way, where is Matthew? I expected he would meet us here. Mark, are you ‘sensing’ anything?”
Fitzwilliam’s twin sons Matthew and Mark possessed an intuitive bond that both amused and amazed their family. Playing to that, Mark pressed his fingers against his closed eyes and meditated for a moment. “Yes, yes. I see it all now. He will be here within five minutes.”
“Bollocks. I suppose you know what he’s wearing as well,” Luke snorted out a laugh as he puffed away on his pipe. “You two are always pulling this trick on us.”
“Doubting Thomas, are we? All right, give me a moment and I’ll tell you… the vision is getting clearer now… he wears a black dress-coat with full collar rolling low, white vest, neck-tie looped loosely with a – pearl…no, I tell a lie, a ruby stickpin, and black doeskin trousers.”
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