Author's Chapter Notes:
I had edited this chapter to tone it down a bit, as in Regency times such a makeout session would be a big no-no. But, as I live firmly in the 21st Century, I decided to leave it in for this site. I trust you'll forgive me for being a little too spicy for Regency times, well, at least for polite literature of Regency times.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter 8:
One would hardly recognize Pemberley as the same estate of that morning. All of the busy preparations for Christmas Eve had seemingly ground to a halt as the entire household waited for news of the state of young master William. The dining room and drawing rooms were quiet and dark, bereft of their usual chatter and activity. Elizabeth, Darcy and Georgiana all chose to have their meals brought up to them in William’s room, although they were hardly touched, where they maintained a constant vigil since before the doctor arrived.
In her concern for both young William and Fitzwilliam, Mary chose to forgo her meal altogether. She sat guard in the hallway between both of their rooms, willing herself to remain away from Fitzwilliam’s chamber. Fear gnawed at her stomach as the minutes drew long. She had instructed the servants not already engaged with William in what should be done for the Colonel. That was all that she could do at the moment until Dr. Roberts was available to see to Fitzwilliam. It seemed as if an eternity had passed since a servant hurriedly escorted the physician to William’s rooms. Mary wondered why the inspection was taking so long. Her heart almost broke at the thought that her Sir Little Bits could be in serious danger. Her lips moved in silent prayer as she beseeched God to keep those she cared for.
Fitzwilliam. A sigh escaped from her mouth as she thought on him. He had been so weak when she left him to the care of his valet. His skin, already pale, had taken on a sickly pallor and had been covered in a sheen of cold sweat. Mary had been struck by the sharp contrast of the dark hair of his chest against his pallid skin. The feel of his skin beneath her fingers as she stripped away his nearly frozen sodden garments had only added to her fear. Mary touched her lips absentmindedly, remembering the coolness of his blue tinged lips against hers as she gently kissed him after covering him with heavy quilts and coverlets. He had been asleep then, giving in to his fatigue. She remembered whispering to him nonetheless, commanding him to be well before his valet had entered the room.
Mary was stirred from her thoughts by the exit of Dr. Roberts from William’s room. Rising quickly from her perch, Mary approached the doctor eager for news of William’s condition.
“He will be fine, Miss Mary,” Dr. Roberts replied to her unspoken question. “With some rest, he should be fine in a day or two. We’ll just have to watch for any sign of a fever.”
Mary exhaled in relief.
“It is good that he was brought out of the water so quickly,” Dr. Roberts continued. “I fear things could have been much worse had he stayed in such frigid water for much longer.”
Mary nodded in reply, thankful for Fitzwilliam’s quick action.
“You may see him if you like,” the doctor offered before turning to leave her.
“Dr. Roberts, may I have a word?” Mary called after him, her voice anxious.
“Yes, of course. What can I do for you?” The older man smiled back at her gently, his grey eyes soft and kind.
“I am very concerned for Col. Fitzwilliam. He was the one to rescue young William this afternoon. He did not look well at all when he arrived back at the house, and I was wondering if you might look in on him while you are here.”
“Col. Fitzwilliam? Mr. and Mrs. Darcy never mentioned that the gentleman was ill.”
Mary frowned slightly at this bit of news. “I am sure they did not realize that he was unwell. The house was in such a state when they arrived that I think Col. Fitzwilliam was quite forgotten.”
Dr. Roberts rubbed his chin thoughtfully before shaking his head slightly and giving Mary a reassuring smile. “Of course I will attend to the Colonel right away.”
“Thank you, doctor.” Mary broke out into a wide smile, her first all evening.
Mary led the doctor to Fitzwilliam’s rooms explaining all she had observed of his condition on the way. Mary took a seat outside of Fitzwilliam’s chambers, determined to get a report on his condition as soon as the doctor finished his examination. Leaning her head back against the wall, Mary let go a deep sigh and closed her eyes. Mary would not ever forget the look of fear and concern on Elizabeth’s face as she set eyes on William that afternoon or the anxiety shown on Mr. Darcy’s countenance. She understood their fear as parents. However, as the hours passed, she could not understand how so little thought had been given to Col. Fitzwilliam. No one had inquired after him and they had said nothing to Dr. Roberts about him. Mary was sure that they all loved him very much, yet she could not help but feel a little angry on the Colonel’s behalf. He had looked truly ill indeed upon entering the house. And on top of it all, the poor man seemed to blame himself for the accident. Mary wondered if Elizabeth and Darcy blamed him as well and so neglected him accordingly. Mary quickly chastised herself for harboring such uncharitable thoughts. They could not possibly be so unfeeling towards one they loved.
After many long minutes, the doctor came out of the room, his face unreadable. He had barely quit the room before Mary was on her feet pestering him with questions. Dr. Roberts smiled at her grimly before relating his patient’s condition to her.
“It appears that the Colonel is suffering from hypothermia. He is not conscious and should be monitored closely until he awakens. I expect him to recover, but I fear that his risk of fever and further illness is severe.”
The doctor paused at Mary’s gasp, taking her hand into his and patting it reassuringly. “However, I should commend you for your quick thinking, Miss Farthington. Had it not been for your solicitous care, I fear that the Colonel would not be with us now.”
Mary’s eyes grew a bit wide at this pronouncement. She had not told her role in the affair to Dr. Roberts. She realized after the fact how unseemly it would be for a young unmarried woman to be found in such a position as she had been that afternoon. The doctor was quick to relieve her of her distress.
“Col. Fitzwilliam’s valet informed me of your role this afternoon. Have no fear. I will not relate the details of what transpired to anyone. You have no cause for shame, Miss Farthington. Had you not acted as you did, the Colonel would be dead. Hypothermia is a serious business requiring immediate treatment. Getting him warm as soon as possible was vital. The gentleman is much in your debt.”
Mary shook her head demurely as she thanked the doctor for both his praise and his silence on the matter. The doctor accepted her thanks with a tired nod.
“Do not fret, Miss Farthington. I believe that all will turn to rights,” Dr. Roberts replied, as he patted her hand reassuringly before turning from her. He took a few steps away from her, before turning again as if he had forgotten something.
“You may see him, if you like,” the doctor added before favoring her with a slight smile.
Mary watched the doctor return to William’s room, before hurrying to Fitzwilliam’s chambers. She had not realized how close the Colonel had come to death, and resolved to see him for herself. The Colonel’s valet quickly answered her light knock on the door. He surveyed Mary coolly, before stepping aside and allowing her entrance.
“Should you require anything, miss, I will be in the dressing room,” the valet quietly informed her before slipping from the room.
Mary was quite surprised by this reception. No words had been needed to make her desires known. She wondered if she had indeed made a friend in the valet or if the doctor had left instructions to allow her admittance. Whatever the reason for the valet’s cooperation, Mary was grateful for the moment of privacy.
Mary quietly moved towards the large four-poster bed where Fitzwilliam lay. He had been changed into a dry sleeping gown and was tucked securely under heavy blankets, just as she had instructed the valet. His arms lay above the blankets, one bent and resting on his chest while the other lay at his side. He had the appearance of one in a peaceful slumber, his chest rising and falling in a slow steady rhythm, his eyes shut with long lashes fanned against his cheek. His skin still held a sickly pallor that frightened her. The room was almost unbearably hot. This pleased Mary for she knew that the heat would help speed his recovery. Mary doubted whether or not she should disturb him. She noticed that a sheen of sweat began to form on his forehead, a few drops already falling down his face, hugging to the curve of his nose. Taking up a cloth, Mary went to his side and gently dabbed at his forehead.
Mary wondered about the strange mix of feelings she felt for the man who lay sleeping before her. Only a few weeks ago, she found him to be the most annoying and infuriating man of her admittedly limited acquaintance. How things had changed since the night of the snowstorm. Now she found herself longing for his company and his caress. His smile, which she had once thought sly, now thrilled her and she could be completely undone by one arched eyebrow. His teasing, to which she always feigned astonishment, secretly delighted her. However, she found her heart was warmed most by his gentle attentions toward her. He was ever conscientious of her feelings and always gentlemanly in their moments alone. Ever conscious of propriety and her naiveté, he had never pressed her for than a chaste kiss upon the lips and a gentle caress of her face. Truly if he had been the sort to trifle with the affections of a young lady, as Elizabeth had led her to believe, he would not have felt restrained by manners in the attainment of his goal.
The thought of marriage had been so far from her mind less than a month ago, and now she found herself receiving such attentions from a gentleman that under any normal circumstance would lead to courtship and marriage. Previously, the thought had frightened and perplexed her. What did she know about marriage and becoming a wife and mother? She had no examples of such in her upbringing and her father had never discussed the idea with her. However, as she lightly ran her hand over the hair of the man sleeping before her, the idea of marriage did not seem so foreign. Mary felt she was well on her way to being in love with Fitzwilliam, if the feelings she felt could be properly called love. They were so new and overwhelming, that Mary wondered about their constancy and depth. However, she did know that if the Lord chose to take this man from her so soon after reclaiming him that had been her entire family, she might not survive the hurt. Mary took one of his large hands into hers. She was pleased that it felt warm to the touch. She brought it up to her lips and placed a kiss upon the palm, as Fitzwilliam was wont to do to her in their moments alone. Mary gently folded her fingers into his before bringing both hands against her cheek.
“Please, Richard,” she whispered to him. “Please be well.”
*****************
Elizabeth, Darcy and Georgiana were surprised to hear Dr. Robert’s report on the condition of their cousin. None of them had realized that Fitzwilliam was even ill, much less that his condition was so severe. They had been so concerned for William that they had not even considered that Fitzwilliam might have been affected by the cold dip in the lake. Darcy was especially concerned, as he regarded Fitzwilliam as a brother.
“How is he now, doctor? May we see him?” Darcy asked.
“He is resting now and will probably be in a deep sleep for quite some time. He should be monitored constantly for the next day or two for any signs of fever. You may visit him, if you like. I believe that Miss. Farthington is with him now.”
“Miss. Farthington? Why is Mary with him?” Georgiana questioned, surprising everyone.
“Well, the lady was quite concerned for his state and I suggested that she look in on him to help calm her nerves. It was Miss. Mary who informed me of the Colonel’s illness and who is responsible for his current condition. If not for her timely instructions and actions, I fear the gentleman would be severely ill if not dead.”
Darcy nodded at this bit of news, the look on his face grave. Since William was sleeping soundly and was out of danger, Darcy and Elizabeth and Georgiana decided to look in on their cousin; leaving the nursery maid to sit with William should he awaken during their absence.
Darcy and Elizabeth were the first to enter Fitzwilliam’s chambers. The sight that greeted them gave rise to quite different feelings in the breast of each. Mary sat in a chair close by Fitzwilliam’s bedside, holding Fitzwilliam’s right hand against her cheek as she bent her head in what appeared to be a silent prayer.
“Mary?” Elizabeth questioned in a low tone as she approached the girl from behind, laying one hand on her shoulder.
Mary moved as if startled, dropping Fitzwilliam’s hand and rising from her seat. She hurriedly wiped at her eyes before turning to face Fitzwilliam’s new visitors.
“Elizabeth…Mr. Darcy…I…Dr. Roberts said that I…” Mary stammered, as her cheeks grew hot.
“We know. Dr. Roberts explained that you were watching over him,” Elizabeth replied, giving Mary a tired smile and her hand a reassuring squeeze. “How fares the patient?” Elizabeth asked as she took the seat that Mary had just vacated.
“He sleeps soundly, as you can see,” Mary replied, forgetting her previous discomfort at being found in such a position by her guardians. “Rich…Fitzwilliam has improved much in looks since this afternoon. Some of his color has returned and he seems to have warmed up.
Darcy’s eyebrow rose at Mary’s slip of the tongue. However, his concern over her increased familiarity with his cousin soon gave way again to his concern for Fitzwilliam’s well being. He stood by his wife, one hand on her shoulder as he watched his sleeping cousin. Fitzwilliam and he were like brothers and their friendship had only increased once they became guardians of Georgiana and weathered the trials of Ramsgate together. Now, he found himself indebted to him for the single handedly rescuing his son, who was dearer to him than anyone in the world. Darcy had missed his cousin a great deal during his tour of duty in the Americas and had been vastly pleased to have him at Pemberley once again. The family had been grateful that he escaped the dangers of the war unscathed when so many of his comrades had fallen or been gravely injured. Darcy would never have imagined that his cousin would find himself in such a life-threatening situation on the very grounds of Pemberley.
Georgiana entered the room soon after, going to Fitzwilliam’s side and taking his left hand into hers. The look on her face mirrored that of everyone in the room. All were greatly concerned and exhausted by the trials of the day. The family sat for several long minutes observing their cousin before Elizabeth broke the silence.
“I fear it is growing very late and you all look exhausted. I suggest that we take turns sitting with Fitzwilliam per the doctor’s orders. I can take the first shift and sit until dawn. I do not think I could possibly sleep tonight.”
“No my dear, I will sit with Richard through the night. I insist that you get some rest. Even if all you do is lay in bed staring up into the canopy. There is no need to argue with me. I insist,” Darcy commanded as he assisted his wife in rising from her seat and placed a chaste kiss upon her forehead. “Please, I could not fathom having another loved one fall ill today.”
Elizabeth nodded her acquiescence. “Well, then I shall retire to bed then. However, I shall not retire to my room as you demand, but will rest with William in the nursery.”
“Fine,” Darcy replied. “I shall ask Mrs. Reynolds to prepare a cot when I speak to her about canceling the Servant’s Ball.”
“Must the ball must be cancelled, brother?” questioned Georgiana, “I do know how everyone was looking forward to it. We have held a ball nearly every Christmas Eve, and everything is nearly ready. Cook has been baking all day. It would be a shame for so many pies and cakes to be left uneaten”
“I know, sweetling, but what can be done? I would not feel right having such festivities while Richard must be attended to. I am sure the staff will understand,” Darcy replied.
“Could we just not attend the ball?” Elizabeth offered.
Mary thought for a moment, before offering a solution of her own. “I could stay behind and look after Fitzwilliam and William while you all attended the ball. Then the ball need not be cancelled, Elizabeth.”
“But, Mary. That would hardly be fair for all of us to go while you stay behind,” Georgiana protested.
“I confess that I do not mind, Georgiana. I would be more than content to stay behind. My presence would certainly not be missed while everyone would expect all of you to attend.”
After a little more urging on Mary’s part, Darcy and Elizabeth agreed to Mary’s plan. Now that William was pronounced well, only being in need of a good day’s rest, both parents felt comfortable enough to commit to one evening away from his side. Soon, all of the ladies repaired to their respective chambers to retire for the night, leaving Darcy to look after Fitzwilliam until dawn.
*****************
The morning of Christmas Eve found the house in much better spirits then the night before. Preparations for the Servant’s Ball resumed and Georgiana and Mary made visits to Pemberley’s tenants on behalf of the Mistress of Pemberley, providing generous baskets of sweet stuffs, preserves and warm linens to each family. They were received warmly at each house they visited and many offerings of kind words were given for the welfare of both Master William and Colonel Fitzwilliam.
During the day, the family took turns sitting with Fitzwilliam, watching for any changes in his condition. He woke briefly in the late afternoon and was able to partake of some broth before falling back into a deep sleep. Dr. Roberts was encouraged by this development and the family felt more at ease regarding their plans to attend the Servant’s Ball.
Soon the time for the ball arrived. Mary bid Georgiana, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy goodbye before heading to William’s room to partake of a simple supper with him. The pair passed the hour amicably and Mary treated little William to a story after supper was finished. Mary told him a story of a brave prince who was enchanted by a wicked sorcerer and turned into a toad. William sat enchanted for the entire tale. A large yawn on the part of little William signaled the story’s end. William begged Mary to continue, protesting that he was not the least bit tired before giving in to another big yawn. Promising to conclude her story the next afternoon, Mary kissed her little knight on the forehead and left him into the care of his nurse.
Mary made her way towards Colonel Fitzwilliam’s chambers. The Colonel’s valet, who had been keeping watch over his master since the early afternoon, answered her gentle knock. Mary was received more cordially this evening, a quiet understanding and acceptance having been formed between the two. Mary released the valet from his watch so that he could partake of some dinner and perhaps attend the Servant’s Ball as well. All nonessential staff members were in attendance at the ball. Only the valet, William’s nurse and Mary’s maid April stayed behind to look after the ill men.
Mary resumed her place by Fitzwilliam’s side, taking up a piece of embroidery that she had left in his rooms to occupy herself during her shifts. Fitzwilliam slept soundly. Most of the color had returned to his cheeks and Mary thought he looked remarkably well. The anxiety that had robbed her of rest was lessened greatly by his improved health. Content with the notion that Fitzwilliam would rest peacefully for most of the night, Mary set to work on her sampler.
A few hours later, a deep sigh stirred Mary from her task.
“Mary,” Fitzwilliam greeted her, his throat parched and scratchy.
“Shhh, now.” Mary ordered him gently, as she dropped her sampler and moved to pour him a cup of water. She brought the cup to his lips with one hand while gently helping him lift his head with the other.
“There now,” Mary smiled as she dabbed some of the water that had spilt off of his chin with a cloth.
“So you have come to wait on a foolish wounded soldier?” Fitzwilliam asked, a faint smile lighting upon his lips at the feel of Mary’s hand smoothing back his hair from his face.
“A foolish soldier? No, I only see a brave knight. Is it not the duty of every lady to see that her knights are well looked after when they are ill?” Mary replied to him, before kissing his forehead lightly and favoring him with a broad smile.
“Brave knight, indeed,” Fitzwilliam harrumphed as he turned his head from her. “Foolish is a more apt title. But for my inattention, William would be well and our Christmas would not be spoiled.”
“How can you speak so ill of yourself, Richard?” Mary countered fervently, “If not for your attention and bravery, William might have drowned and our Christmas would have truly been bleak. But he is well, or will soon be well again. We have much to be grateful for this Christmas in that you both are with us still.”
“Nay. You are too good, Mary. I am to blame and I feel it keenly as I should. I could have prevented it,” Fitzwilliam replied, his voice low and full of regret.
“Look at me, Richard,” Mary commanded, her voice stern, as she cupped his face in her hands and turned him towards her.
“You are not to blame. How could you have known about the weakness in the ice? We all skated upon it without concern not two days ago. No one could have known the ice would break.”
“But had I been more attentive he would not have fallen at all. I could have…”
“You were there to save him!” Mary cried as she clutched his hands tightly in her own. “With no thought to your own safety, you jumped into the water and brought him back. You could have died in the process, Richard…you almost did,” all sternness fled her voice as she mentioned his sickness.
“Mary?” Fitzwilliam whispered, his brow knit in concern at her change of demeanor.
“I was so afraid, Richard,” Mary chocked out, as she tried to wipe the tears that now fell fast. “You were so cold and pale. I thought that…I thought that you might leave me.”
Mary found herself being gently pulled toward the bed. Giving no resistance, Mary followed Fitzwilliam’s gentle urgings and lay beside him, her body on top of the covers that were tucked around him. He gathered her close with one arm and bid her to rest her head upon his chest.
“Shhh, my love, all is well,” he cooed to her as he rubbed her back gently. “You see that I am quite well. Unshaven and quite possibly ill smelling, but quite well.”
Mary could not help but chuckle through her tears. He did look a sight and he had seen fresher smelling days, but Mary would hardly complain. They lay together for several minutes, Fitzwilliam gently rubbing her back and speaking soothing words to her as her tears ran their course. Mary drew herself as close to him as possible, wrapping one arm around him as she wept. Soon she found herself calming down until her tears were spent. The anxieties and fears of the day began to melt away as Mary took in the delightful sensation of Fitzwilliam’s strong hand gently caressing her back and the warmth and firmness of his chest beneath her cheek. Soon her breathing matched his own and Mary was overcome by the comfort and safety she felt in his embrace. She knew that her present position was improper, but she did not care. All that mattered to her was that she was in the arms of the man that she loved and that he was well.
*****************
Mary had not realized that she had fallen asleep until a strong jolt broke her from her slumber.
“Richard,” she queried, her voice thick with sleep, “is anything the matter?”
As she regained her senses, Mary realized that things were not well. Mary found that her cheek, that had once rested comfortably upon Fitzwilliam’s chest, was now wet and slick with his sweat. In fact, Fitzwilliam’s clothes were soaked from his perspiration and, although he slept, he had begun to thrash about in his bed. It was as Mary feared; a fever had set in.
Moving quickly from the bed, Mary rang the bell for a servant, before returning to Fitzwilliam’s side to wipe his brow with a wet cloth from the basin by his bedside. As Fitzwilliam’s thrashing became more pronounced, Mary’s unease grew. She wondered how things could have changed so quickly in only the span of a few hours. Soon, her maid April appeared in the doorway. Mary instructed her to alert the doctor that the Colonel had caught fever. As she waited for the doctor to arrive, Mary attempted to cease Fitzwilliam’s violent movements by grasping his arms for fear that he might injure himself. However, Fitzwilliam proved too strong, and she instead found herself thrown to the ground. Mary cried out as she landed on her hand, twisting it painfully. Entering the room soon afterwards, Dr. Roberts rushed to her side and assisted her in standing.
“Are you injured, Miss Mary?”
“It is just my wrist, Dr. Roberts,” Mary replied as she held her forearm gingerly. “But it is of no concern, I am sure. It is Richard who concerns me more.”
“Hmm. I see. Well, as you are in no condition to assist me, please send for a footman or another strong servant to help me,” the doctor requested after ascertaining the situation.
Mary left quickly to find April and a few footmen. It appeared as if several hours had passed as the doctor attended to Fitzwilliam. Mary sat looking on the scene, her wrist wrapped in linen to prevent further injury. Her sense of uselessness only served to increase her anxiety. She could do nothing to aid Fitzwilliam and could only sit and look on in fear. Mary felt a foreboding sense of déjà vu. It was very late into the evening when Fitzwilliam’s fever finally broke.
“Well, the worst has passed, Miss Farthington. The colonel gave me quite a scare, but he appears to be more himself now. He should sleep without anymore problems until morning.”
Mary smiled and nodded, before drawing her injured hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. She grimaced at the pain of the movement, her injury, which had temporarily been forgotten, now making itself more than apparent.
“You should let me have a look at that, Miss Farthington. Come, come.”
Dr. Roberts examined Mary’s wrist, noting the swelling that had taken place and prodding it gingerly for signs of any breakage. After some moments of discomfort on Mary’s part, for having endured the pain, and on Dr. Roberts’ part, for being the instant cause of it, Mary’s wrist was pronounced as suffering only from minor bruising. The doctor removed the makeshift linen brace that April had fashioned for Mary, and replaced it with a more permanent linen wrap to keep the wrist immobile. After inspecting his handiwork, Dr. Roberts tried to persuade Mary to retire for the remainder of the night. Mary refused to be moved, arguing that she wasn’t the least bit tired and pleaded to be able to sit with Colonel Fitzwilliam just a few hours more. Dr. Roberts consented to this wish, and after informing her that he would only be a few doors down should he be needed again, he retired to his rooms. Mary resumed her seat next to Fitzwilliam’s bed, pulling a quilt that April had brought for her around herself as best she could with her good hand. Mary watched Fitzwilliam sleeping soundly, his black hair wet with perspiration and framing his face haphazardly. Mary determined that whatever she did she would not fall asleep. She would be there should Fitzwilliam need her, he would not be left to face the worst alone as her father had.
*****************
A bright light woke Mary from her slumber. Mary moved to shade her eyes from the light as she slowly recovered consciousness.
“Good morning, miss,” April curtsied to her from her place by the window. She had just opened the curtains after bringing in a tray with a pot of hot tea and a plate of biscuits and jam. “Mrs. Darcy sent up some breakfast for you.”
“Breakfast?” Mary murmured as the fog in her head began to clear and she surveyed her surroundings. She was no longer in Fitzwilliam’s room, but had been placed into her own bed. “April, what time is it?” Mary asked anxiously as she leapt down from her bed.
“Why, it is nearly a quarter ‘till eleven, miss.”
“Oh, no. I must see to Richard,” Mary raced from her room with April following close behind with her dressing gown in hand calling for her to stop. However, Mary could not hear April’s pleas, so focused was she on getting to Fitzwilliam’s side. “Not again,” she pleaded with God as she ran, “Please, not again.”
Mary finally reached Fitzwilliam’s chambers and threw open the doors, not bothering to knock.
“Good heavens!” Dr. Robert’s exclaimed as he turned around. “Oh, it is only you, Miss. Mary. You gave me quite a start. Is everything alright?”
“Richard,” Mary cried out as she hurried towards the doctor, “Is Richard…tell me the Colonel is not dead.”
“Why, I dearly hope that I am not.”
Mary gasped, her look of anguish giving way to one of relief. Dr. Roberts smiled at her, before stepping aside to give her an unobstructed view of the bed. A smile of relief and joy broke out across her face at the sight she saw. Fitzwilliam sat grinning at her, his back supported by a mountain of pillows. He looked remarkably well, being clean-shaven and wearing a fresh shirt and cravat. Dr. Roberts slipped from the room, closing the door behind him. At the sound of the door closing, Mary fell upon the bed, seizing him in a tight embrace as she showered his face with small kisses.
Fitzwilliam laughed, “If this is the greeting I am to receive, I think I should spread reports of my demise everyday.”
“Richard, how can you tease me at a time like this?” Mary protested through her laughter.
“Tease you? I assure you that I am perfectly in earnest. To be showered with kisses by a beautiful woman who jumps into your lap while only wearing her delicate nightgown. What better way to start one’s day.”
Mary laughed and hit him playfully on the shoulder. Fitzwilliam feigned injury, which won him more kisses of apology, just as he had desired. Mary clutched him closer and buried her face in the space between his neck and shoulder. Fitzwilliam laughed again until he felt Mary’s hot tears on his neck.
“I see that I have the unforgivable habit of causing you to leak,” Fitzwilliam said as he pulled Mary back far enough so that they could look one another in the eye. “Come, tell me what is the matter. For all my jesting, I am well, as you see. There is no reason for this sadness,” he pleaded in a more serious tone.
Mary savored the feel of his hand caressing her cheek before replying. “I am not sad, Richard. Indeed I am quite the opposite.”
“Then why these tears, Princess?”
“Last night you were in such a state. It scared me so and I vowed that I would not sleep or leave your side until I knew you were well. When I awoke in my own chambers, I feared that I had failed you, just like I failed him,” Mary explained as she brushed a wayward lock of hair from before his eyes. “But, here I find you well and just as handsome and exasperating as before and I thank God that it is so.” Mary embraced him again, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Just like who, my love? Who did you think you failed?” Fitzwilliam asked after several moments.
Mary took a deep breath before telling him about the night her father died. Fitzwilliam listened closely, coming to better understand her behavior and fears. His heart ached from the sorrow she related and he cursed himself for having been the cause of additional anguish. When she finished her account, Fitzwilliam cupped her face in his large hands and kissed away the new tears that began to fall down her cheeks.
“You must remember what I promised you, Princess,” Fitzwilliam said, his voice soft and filled with emotion. “I will never leave you unless it is your most earnest wish.”
“Yet such a thing is not in your power to ensure,” Mary protested.
“What I know in my heart is within my power, Mary. I would never abandon you. I would face all of Napoleon’s armies to stay by your side.”
Fitzwilliam pulled Mary towards him and captured her lips in a kiss. Finding no resistance, he soon deepened his kisses, pulling Mary against him on the bed, his hands roaming her figure through the thin fabric of her chemise. Mary soon forgot her tears, so consumed was she in this new feeling of abandonment. All she was sensible of were Fitzwilliam’s lips, hands and the smell of him, clean and earthy. Soon, a pleasantly startled Mary found herself beneath Fitzwilliam, the thick covers of the bed a barrier between them. Fitzwilliam resumed his attentions to her mouth, this time seeking entrance with his tongue. Mary was surprised by this action, but she soon came to enjoy the sensation of this more intimate contact. Just when Mary began to wonder if she could do without air for much longer, Fitzwilliam moved from her mouth to placing kisses down her neck and along her collarbone. Mary thought to protest at the break in contact until she shivered at the sensation caused by the soft brush of his lips against her skin. A moan escaped her lips as Fitzwilliam’s hands dipped below the collar of her nightgown. Fitzwilliam’s lips soon followed the path of his hands, causing Mary to utter his name in a mixture of surprise and pleasure. At her cry, Fitzwilliam recalled himself and returned his attention to her lips once more before resting his forehead upon hers. They both lay still for several moments attempting to regulate their breathing.
“Forgive me,” Fitzwilliam whispered to her as he readjusted her chemise so that she was no longer exposed. “I did not intend to take such liberties.
Mary gazed into his eyes, noting how they moved from being dark with passion to reflecting his sincere regret.
“There is no need to apologize, Richard. These activities… were not unpleasant,” Mary replied as she bit her bottom lip and turned away from him.
“‘Not unpleasant?’” Fitzwilliam repeated as he shifted his weight from on top of her to lie at her side. “I should take offense and work to extract higher praise than ‘not unpleasant.’ But I fear that by doing so I may take actions that we both may come to regret.”
“Then perhaps it is best that I take my leave of you,” Mary replied as she moved to get off the bed. “I also would not want to be found so scandalously underdressed in a gentleman’s bed.”
“It may be too late for that,” Fitzwilliam replied. “The good doctor was witness to your attack on my person upon your bursting into my chambers. However, he is the picture of discretion.”
“Attack on your person!” Mary replied incredulously. “I thought you said there was no better way for one to start one’s morning. If it is such an imposition, I will be sure to never ‘attack’ you again.”
Fitzwilliam laughed heartily at this retort. After a parting kiss, Mary slipped from Fitzwilliam’s room and hurried to her chambers. Closing the door behind her, Mary fell upon her bed and laughed in delight. What a wonderful Christmas this was turning out to be.
*****************
Colonel Fitzwilliam watched as Mary slipped from his room to return to her chambers. A deep sigh escaped from his chest as he fell back upon the pillows. He did not know that he could experience such heights of joy and depths of pain in such a short course of time. Fitzwilliam’s heart ached upon seeing the one he loved weep before him. The pain was all the more poignant, as he knew that he was the chief cause of her anxiety. Mary had been genuinely afraid that he would perish. Fitzwilliam knew that he was too much of a tough bird to let a little chill bring him down. However, despite his bravado, Dr. Roberts’ relation of just how close he had come to death sobered him. Fitzwilliam pondered the remarkable woman who had captured his heart. If not for her care, Dr. Roberts had told him, he might have very well perished. He imagined his Princess ordering about his valet and the shock that old Jenkins must have felt upon seeing his master half naked with a young woman in his bedchamber. However, Fitzwilliam knew that he could depend upon Jenkins to be discreet.
He felt joy and hope at the newfound knowledge that Mary truly loved him. He felt such relief at being able to cast those worries aside. Her tears and her ardent response to his touch confirmed what he had only dared to hope. He shut his eyes and remembered the experience of having his beloved beneath his own body, of her sighs and words of pleasure, the taste of her mouth and skin. He felt awed by the trust Mary had placed in him; she had offered herself to him innocently and without fear. Fitzwilliam knew that he could not abuse her trust by allowing himself to loose control again. He would have to have another conversation with Darcy, and soon. He would have Mary for his wife, Darcy’s displeasure be damned.
*****************
Georgiana stood motionless in the hallway, watching Mary’s form retreat down the hall back towards her bedroom. Georgiana had thought to check on her cousin after breakfast and to perhaps sit with him for a while once the doctor was finished with his examination. Georgiana was surprised to find Mary, rather than the doctor, slipping from Fitzwilliam’s rooms. Upon seeing Mary’s exit, Georgiana unconsciously stepped into a nearby doorway, ensuring that she had an unobstructed view of Mary without fear of detection. Georgiana watched Mary make her quiet exit and was alarmed to find Mary clad only in a thin chemise, her feet bare and her dark hair unbound and hanging in thin dark ropes that framed her face and shoulders. However, it was not Mary’s state of undress that caused Georgiana’s alarm, but the look of pure joy that covered her face. Georgiana watched as Mary leaned against the door for a brief moment, raising one hand to caress her lips lightly, before practically skipping down the hall.
Georgiana was not released from her spell until several moments after Mary had disappeared into her own chambers far down the hall. Her suspicions regarding Mary and the Colonel could no longer be brushed aside. Hurt and humiliation warred within her chest as Georgiana quickly made her way for the safety of her own rooms. Once safely in her chambers, she dismissed her maid with orders that she not be disturbed and sank onto her bed as her resolve gave way to a flood of tears.