~Eight~
And so, it was decided, in one month’s time, just before the start of the infamous London season, Lord Matlock would accept the hospitality of his relations at the Darcy townhouse in Belmonte square.
Of his own residence in that same fair city, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam had not set foot in years, and dreaded doing so now.
His brother, known for all forms of debauchery, also had a reputation for poor treatment of servants, resulting in a high rate of turnover as well as slovenly conditions.
Eventually, he would have to see to the place, and make some decision as to its future, but not now.
Perhaps he would merely turn the property over to an estate agent for disposal, washing his hands completely of his family’s sordid past. Until then, as a man bound to His Majesty’s service, his place was with his regiment, another obligation that required sorting.
It was rare that any man, upon receiving an inheritance that allowed for comfortable living, retained his commission.
So easily, military life was discarded, the uniform shaken of like an old shoe, that having outlived its usefulness, no longer held any value.
Yet others, much like himself, thrived inside the often-strict rules that defined rank and protocol.
Indeed, he loved the role that being born second had laid before him, and the prospect of no longer donning the crimson coat and epaulets of his office caused him no small measure of anxiety...
even pain. Of course, he had always known that this day would come, but had rather hoped it would have been after thirty or more years of dedication, or if not, then an honorable death upon some foreign battlefield.
However, fate had dealt him a different hand, and now, it was time to play his cards.
Unfortunately, he hardly knew what they were, and a week later as the colonel stood awaiting an audience with his commanding officer, he was no further to knowing what to do.
General Montague Higgenthorpe, also a younger son, but with four elder brothers, had never a chance at inheritance.
Instead, he had given his life to the army, being rewarded for bravery, as well as possessing a natural aptitude for the stratagems of war.
That being so, he was not a man to waste time on niceties, preferring the brusque truth to circuitous conversation.
But as he gestured Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam into his private office, a flicker of compassion crossed his features, disappearing quickly, lest it be observed.
“Ah, Fitzwilliam, my condolences to you and your family, but I did not expect you to return so soon. A month? Wasn’t that granted?
” the senior officer inquired, making no mention of the elevation received by his subordinate.
To do so would infringe upon his authority, something that must remain clear.
“Yes, sir, and thank you, sir,” Fitzwilliam replied, feeling like a schoolboy before the headmaster, and not a peer of the realm in which this man served.
“But? Surely you did not settle your affairs so quickly...”
“Er, no sir.... I am afraid things have been rather complicated.”
To this, the general frowned, but it was an expression of compassion, for he knew all too well, what was to come. What must be done. It was worse than telling a young wife of her husband’s death.
“Life is complicated, as have things been here, in your absence, an absence that I fear, I must begin to become accustomed...”
“Oh no sir, perhaps a month more, if I may? My father’s steward is an excellent man, and I need not worry over my affairs. I assure you, His Majesty’s Army is my priority.”
“Indeed, it has been, and no one will feel your loss greater, but one must face the truth. You, Colonel, are now the Earl of Matlock, and as such, have no place on a battlefield.”
“Resign my commission?”
“I am afraid so...but not until a suitable replacement is found. And at the moment, I cannot think of anyone worthy, much less be able to pay the rank’s commission.
But you know as well as I, once word gets around, there will be at least a dozen unworthy creatures, whose only recommendation is the size of their family’s fortune.
Six months, I should think, perhaps less, but not more.
Until then, you may have your leave, unless I require your particular talents.
Napoleon is no longer a threat, but we are hardly without conflicts to keep us busy. ”
It had been the kindest sort of dismissal to which he could ever have hoped, but the sting of being sacked was no less painful, as was the long ride to London.
Uncertainty it seemed, was to be his constant companion and with nothing but his thoughts as the miles passed, the Earl of Matlock began to dread what lay before him.
Indeed, no battlefield was more dangerous than one of the heart.
Darcy had managed, albeit through much trial and error, to win Elizabeth.
Thiers was a love match, and having witnessed their happiness, he would settle for nothing less.