Epilogue 1
After witnessing Lady Elizabeth’s wedding to Mr. Darcy, Lady Priscilla Prescott waved farewell to their carriage, internally wishing them a future full of the kind of happiness she had never experienced.
As the carriage disappeared, Priscilla lowered her arm, thinking it was time to make her way home. The apartment she was living in, paid for by Mr. Darcy, was pleasant, far more so than some of the places she had lived in the last two years.
Though there was no kitchen, the building’s housekeeper provided dinner for all the residents every night as part of the rent. Additionally, there was both a pub and a bakery within two blocks, making it easy to acquire food at any time.
The apartment itself was pleasantly furnished, well-lit, and well-aired, making it far, far better than her lodgings in Cheapside, which she had been living in before the duke made his offer. There, the entire apartment consisted of one room, and it was a dingy, airless room at that.
Priscilla turned to make her farewell to Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was still standing next to her, but before she could say anything, he said, “I wonder if I might escort you home, Lady Priscilla.”
“There is no need, Colonel. My home is less than half a mile away, and it is in an entirely safe neighborhood.”
“Though I am certain you have no need of my protection, I would enjoy your company a great deal, if you would allow it.”
Lady Priscilla was seldom speechless. She had been in high society since she was sixteen, more than half her life. Nothing surprised her anymore. At least not until now. She found herself gaping at the gentleman next to her.
Of course, they had chatted a great deal over the last three weeks or more, ever since Mr. Darcy arrived in Bath. Colonel Fitzwilliam always seemed to accompany his cousin everywhere, so anytime Lady Elizabeth had been speaking with Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam was conversing with Priscilla.
She had assumed the man did this out of boredom.
At no point had the thought even crossed her mind that he genuinely wished for her company.
She knew right down to her bones that she was not desirable company for anyone: not her parents, not her so-called friends, and certainly not her former husband.
She had no reason to decline the offer, however. Besides, Colonel Fitzwilliam was clever and interesting to speak with. So, she quickly recovered and said, “Very well. I believe I would enjoy the company.”
As they began walking, he said, “So, what do you think of the newlyweds? Do you think the duke will let them get away with it?”
“I am not certain,” said Priscilla. “The Duke of Essex is a good man, as far as such a powerful, selfish, quixotic man can be good. In this case, however, there are multiple, warring factors that make his behavior difficult to predict. I would hazard a guess that if he finds them within a day or two, he will try to force an annulment. If it takes longer, he will likely let it go.”
“That seems likely enough,” said the Colonel. “I just hope Mr. and Mrs. Darcy are strong enough to withstand him. I have encountered the Duke of Essex in person a few times, and he is a force of nature.”
“He is,” said Priscilla. She expected their conversation to either continue in this vein or to peter out. After all, Lady Elizabeth and her relationship with Mr. Darcy was the only reason Priscilla and Colonel Fitzwilliam had ever associated with one another.
“I imagine you will have a great deal of free time on your hands for the next few weeks,” he said. “At least until the Darcys arrange for you to go to Pemberley.”
“I suppose so,” she said. “I had not honestly considered it. My focus was primarily on helping them as much as possible. But now they are together, one heart and one entity under the law. They do not need my help any further.”
As she said this, a great weight of sadness descended on her shoulders.
Keeping Lady Elizabeth company these last few months and teaching her all she needed to know to be successful in a society she was unfamiliar with had been the most delightful time Priscilla could remember.
She had been treated with respect. Her words had been listened to. She had been needed.
Of course, it had been difficult balancing Lady Elizabeth’s needs against the demands of her employer, but even that bit of distress and frustration had been well worth it.
It was the first time in her life anyone needed her for anything.
She was grateful that Mr. Darcy had offered her a position as Mrs. Darcy’s companion, but she knew it would not be the same.
Mrs. Darcy would not need Priscilla nearly as much as Lady Elizabeth had.
“I would be most grateful if you and I could continue to see each other frequently until you must leave London, just as we did in Bath” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Perhaps, together, we could relieve some of our mutual boredom.”
Priscilla opened her mouth to respond, but no words came.
Her mind was whirling with possibilities.
When she could speak, she said, “Is this an invitation with romantic overtones? Or perhaps you just wish for a friend. I will tell you now that, though I am a widow, I am not in the habit of entertaining dalliances.”
“Hmm. I suppose you could say the request is mostly out of friendship, though I am certainly open to the idea of romantic overtones,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam with a mildly flirtatious grin. “As for dalliances, I would never treat you with such disrespect.”
“In that case, I accept,” said Priscilla. “You will certainly help to relieve the boredom that inevitably comes to those who live in London but have neither occupation nor wealth.”
The colonel laughed. “That is precisely the conundrum I face on a regular basis,” he said. “One can only spend so much time going to his club without going broke from gambling too much.”
Priscilla chuckled. Then she sobered quickly. “Colonel, I feel it is only right to inform you of one thing, since you mentioned that there is at least a possibility of romance. I will never marry again unless it is to a man who can get my son, Michael, back for me.”
She had survived marriage once, and the experience had nearly killed her. She would not place herself in such a submissive and powerless position again, no matter how much she liked the man in question, unless doing so would gain her the most precious thing she had lost: her son.
“I see,” he said. Without hesitating, he said, “I will keep that in mind.”
~~~~~
Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam paced back and forth across the living space of his apartment. It was a well-appointed apartment, comfortable and light, in the heart of fashionable London, but it was small. Even so, he paced as well as he could.
The reason he paced was simple: Lady Priscilla.
She was nothing like the typical debutantes of London or the wealthy heiresses of the northern industrialists. Nor was she like any other widow he had encountered.
She had the kind of personality that simply begs for a strong man to take care of and protect her; either that or to take advantage of and abuse her.
But she had lived through the latter circumstance long enough for her to harden.
Now, though her underlying softness and kindness were still evident at times, her spine was as strong as steel.
And Richard found her utterly fascinating.
He had seen her on a nearly daily basis for six or seven weeks now. At first, in Bath, he merely thought of her as excellent company, someone to talk with while Darcy was clearly busy wooing his lady.
When Lady Elizabeth was taken away by her father, and the rest of the group went to London, however, Richard went more than a week without seeing Lady Priscilla or even knowing how she was doing.
It surprised him how much such a situation rankled, how much he missed her company and wished to know that she was well. When he saw her again at Darcy’s wedding, he couldn’t let the opportunity pass.
Every day since, rain or shine, Richard had found a way to be in Lady Priscilla’s company.
Sometimes, they spent hours exploring some interesting part of the city.
Other times, it was just a simple social call of fifteen or thirty minutes.
For Richard, it didn’t matter what they were doing, as long as he could be in her company and know that she was well and as happy as she could be.
During this time, he gained a better understanding of what she had been through with her previous husband, and he learned why she did not wish to marry again.
He flattered himself that she was not opposed to him, personally, but Richard believed her when she said that nothing other than custody of her son would tempt her back into a matrimonial state.
Which led him to why he was pacing. He desperately wanted to marry her, so that they never needed to be apart again, but while the younger son of the Earl of Matlock was certainly not a nothing in society, he had no true title of his own, nor did he have any real power.
He could not see that there was any way possible to convince Lady Priscilla’s brother-in-law to give up custody of the boy, at least not to him.
He wanted to marry her, but he did not see how it was possible.
Besides all that, he was running out of time.
In a little more than one more week, she was scheduled to join the Darcys at Pemberley and once again take up her position as Mrs. Darcy’s companion.
When that happened, it would be impossible to know when he would see her again.
Thus, he was pacing, hoping that somehow the repetitive movement would shake loose some kind of thought or idea on how he could marry the love of his life.
It didn’t work. There was no monumental revelation or flash of brilliance. However, there was a quiet thought that made its way through his frustration. How would he know it was impossible, if he didn’t even try?