Day 1 #2
He noticed he did not wear his father’s signet ring, and he wondered where it could be, having never been without it since before he left for school. “What do you mean this life? And why would she need identification? She knows who I am.”
Clarence remained silent before asking, “Do you remember what you wrote in your letter?”
“Of course I do.” He immediately thought of the passage regarding Georgiana. “How much do you know?”
“Do not concern yourself. Miss Darcy and her secret are safe. I have no desire to ruin a young girl who was misled by a scoundrel.” After a moment, he asked, “Do you remember how you closed the letter? And what you thought right before your horse bolted and you lost your seat?”
He mused, his head throbbing at the exercise. “I wished her God’s blessing.”
“Yes, but before that, can you recall? You referred to what she had said to you the previous night.”
After more contemplation, Darcy replied, “Yes, she said that if my father had not had a son, Mr. Wickham could have filled that role better. I said I would not wish to suspend any pleasure of hers.” He waited expectantly when the older man finally smirked.
“What are you saying? Are you saying my pronouncement came true? That Fitzwilliam Darcy was never born? That I have somehow wished this on myself?”
Clarence only stared mutely.
“And all who I know, and love, do not know me?” When the apothecary remained silent, Darcy sniffed. “That is preposterous.”
“As preposterous as this may appear, you are not Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
“Then who am I?” Darcy asked, his agitation evident.
“You are William Fitzroy. The adopted son of Herbert and Edith Fitzroy.”
“Fitzroy? Adopted?”
“You are the heir to Pembrook in Salisbury, and its extensive properties.”
“Pembrook? I am Fitzwilliam Darcy, son of George and Lady Anne Darcy. I am the master of Pemberley.”
“No, you were Fitzwilliam Darcy, but as I said, he no longer exists in this world by your own provocation. Luckily, William Fitzroy is a gentleman of means. You are not as well-known as Fitzwilliam Darcy, but I believe that will suit you just fine. You have never been one who thrives on the attention of others.”
“No—”
And this man Clarence enlightened Darcy for the next half an hour on a life he did not know––not only of Pembrook, and the names of his parents, but how they were contemporaries of the Darcys and had taken him as a child to visit Pemberley, where he had even injured his arm; about his sister, Mrs. Matthews, who married a rake without his knowledge; and many other bits of a life which Fitzwilliam could not view as anything other than a fanciful tale.
The older man slapped Darcy’s knee and stood.
“And you are fortuitous in that the life you have been born into will allow you to have a wonderful future. Much like Darcy, you are a Cambridge graduate, well respected. Your knowledge of your circumstances will increase, and the voids of your memory will begin to take shape.”
“I have had enough of this madness and demand to return to Lady Catherine’s at once.”
“She is not your aunt. And she is not the person you imagine her to be.”
Darcy puzzled on the final sentence.
“Mr. Darcy, I have been sent to help you see what a life would be like without Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley.”
“Sent by whom?”
The apothecary shook his head. “You will discover how Fitzwilliam Darcy is necessary for the happiness and joy of all in his world.”
“All except Miss Elizabeth Bennet, you mean.”
“No, sir. That is not what I mean. But I am afraid you will see for yourself shortly,” he said. “I am staying at the Hunsford Inn for a time. You may find me there if you have questions. My advice to you is not to force your past on these people. They do not know you.”
“How can they not?”
“Because you were never born. Recall the Miss Bennets’ response to you? They had only known you for two months, so that was shocking enough. But those you have known all your life…will be even more difficult for you. Remember what I said.”
“Wait!” Darcy exclaimed before the man opened the door. “How would Miss Bennet ever concede to marry that toad of a vicar? She is much too well-bred and lovely to be his wife.”
The odd little man placed his hand on the handle, before looking over his shoulder at Darcy.
“You were not born. Therefore, Bingley never leased Netherfield. Jane Bennet was ripe to be picked when Mr. Collins visited Longbourn. She is too good of a girl to allow her family to suffer destitution if she had it in her power to save them.” Clarence shrugged.
“This is not the only change you will find, sir. Remember all I said. You are William Fitzroy, and they will not know Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
With that, Clarence swung open the door to Elizabeth and Jane speaking most animatedly in the hallway.
Clarence beckoned them forward. “The patient will be well. I do not expect his headaches to last long. But he might have small bouts of forgetfulness—nothing too severe. He recalls his name and circumstances, but as with many head injuries, we are uncertain exactly how his future will unfold. Forgive his frustrations as he may impart notions which seem confused. But, in all respects, I believe he is as he always was.”
The apothecary grinned at Darcy, who was observing the entire conversation, before turning back to the sisters. “As I have told him, he must not be removed from Hunsford. I believe the peace here will do well in helping him heal.”
“May we move him to another room?” Jane asked.
“Yes, depending on his strength. Do check the wound for infection, and I recommend allowing him to rest—and exercise only if he feels fit. But once again, he must not be removed from Hunsford.”
Jane said, “Very well. We will do all in our power to help our guest.” She tilted her head and looked over Clarence’s shoulder. “Would you care for some refreshment, Mister…? Mister…? I beg your pardon, sir. I have not yet learned your name.”
“It is Fitz—” Darcy stopped when Clarence shook his head. “It is Fitzroy. William Fitzroy, Mrs. Collins.”
“Very well, Mr. Fitzroy. My sister and I would like to take tea with you. If you are up to some company.”
“I would, Mrs. Collins. I thank you for your generous hospitality.”
Clarence bowed, nodding to Darcy, and then departed. Shortly after, a maid announced:
“Mr. and Mrs. Wickham, ma’am.”
Darcy stifled a gasp. He felt a storm cloud move over his countenance, and he noticed a similar reaction from Elizabeth.
“Mr. Wickham,” Jane said, as both ladies curtseyed. “Welcome to our home. We did not expect to see you so soon and are honored again by your presence.”
“Yes, well, we must be neighborly while we reside at Rosings.” His eyes never left Elizabeth, and they openly roamed her form.
“Where is Mrs. Wickham? I believe I heard the maid announce her.”
“She stepped into the garden with Mr. Collins. There was something she desired to show you, Mrs. Collins. Might you oblige her? You know how she can be.”
Jane looked from Wickham to Elizabeth before altering her disquiet to a more pleasant countenance. “With pleasure. Lizzy, shall I get your wrap?”
Wickham interrupted immediately. “Oh, Mrs. Collins. It is much too cold. With Miss Bennet being unable to come for tea yesterday due to her illness, we don’t want her to risk a chill, do we?”
“No, but—”
“I will remain here and keep her company until you return,” Wickham said.
“Lizzy?”
“I will be well, Jane,” she replied, glancing at Darcy. “Do hurry Mrs. Wickham as I look forward to her company.”
“Very well. I will be back in a trice.”
As Jane retreated, Elizabeth stood beside the chaise where Darcy sat erect. With his back to Elizabeth, Wickham followed Jane, then quietly closed the door behind her.
“Wickham.”
Wickham turned to find Darcy standing, although unsteady, beside Elizabeth.
Elizabeth looked between both men. “Mr. Fitzroy, are you acquainted?”
“We are not,” Wickham replied.
“I am not well known to Mr. Wickham,” Darcy said, realizing Wickham did not recognize him and moderated his voice, “yet we were at school together.”
“Fitzroy?” Wickham repeated thoughtfully. “Oh, yes. I remember the name. You have an estate in…”
“Salisbury.”
“Yes, Salisbury. And you have a brother…?”
“A sister,” Darcy replied with concealed venom.
Wickham looked up at him with slight fear. Darcy could see the cogs turning. Trying to determine if mine was one you ruined, eh? No, by Jove, she was not! I saved her from that fate!
“You appear injured. Were you set upon by bandits?”
“No. As best I can remember, I was thrown from my horse.”
At this revelation, Wickham took on an air of nonchalance. “And what brings you to this part of the country?”
“I am uncertain,” Darcy said.
“Uncertain?”
“Yes, I believe I am here to visit family.”
“Mr. Fitzroy’s accident,” Elizabeth interjected, “has caused him to lose some of his memory.”
“Oh, that is what Collins was prattling on about in the garden. What an odd sensation to not recall parts of your life.”
Darcy said, “Yes, but things which are most important are never forgotten.”
“Such as?” Wickham asked, stealing a glance at Elizabeth, who had taken a seat on the longue.
Darcy sat next to her before replying. “Character.”
“Character?” Wickham raised a brow.
“Yes, character,” Darcy said, attempting to maintain his even tone. “I am sure, no matter what the situation, a man’s character would never change, whether he remembered his name or not.”
Wickham turned a guarded look at Darcy. “Well, Mr. Fitzroy, I do wish you the best. If you are feeling well enough, you should join us at Rosings tomorrow evening for dinner.”
“Oh, I don’t know if he—”
“I would like that very much,” Darcy said. “Thank you. But, should not Lady Catherine issue the invitation? Should she disabuse your presumption?”
Wickham’s laugh chilled Darcy. “No, Lady Catherine will do as I wish.” At the sound of the front door scraping open, he said, “Oh, there is Mrs. Collins and my wife.”
What does he mean Lady Catherine will do his bidding? Did he marry…? No! Did he marry Anne? Is that why he resides at Rosings? Where is my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam?
The door opened to admit Jane, Mr. Collins, and Mrs. Wickham.
He did not think he could speak for the bile in his throat. Slowly, Darcy stood and bowed, pulling from the depths of all his years of training to remain master under good regulation.
“Mr. Fitzroy. Might I present, Mrs. Wickham of Pemberley? Mrs. Wickham, our guest, Mr. Fitzroy.”
And then, he heard his voice:
“How do you do?” as he looked into the face of his sister, Georgiana.