In October, the Bingley's and the Darcy's headed for town. Their arrival was heralded with great interest, as all of society wanted to meet the new Mrs. Darcy.
The trip to town afforded them a chance to get a new wardrobe, and for the first solid week the men were completely abandoned in favor of the modiste.
Mr. Darcy was not at all happy about the endless parties, soirees, teas, and balls that followed, but he did find Mrs. Darcy in her element to be absolutely fascinating. He couldn't keep his eyes off her.
She would feel his gaze from across the room, turn, and smile at him with such tenderness that anyone who saw the couple sighed at the love match.
Of more interest were Sam and Georgie. Miss Darcy was not yet out, but she accompanied her new sister and friend to more outings, and people were noticing the young heiress. There was already a list of bachelors and mothers waiting for her debut.
And Sam... people didn't know what to make of her. But she was pretty, rich, and clever, and people were flocking to her company. She had great fun chatting with all of them, but none of them were truly interesting. None of them were interested in her, just her looks and her money. She didn't even need Darcy to glare to keep away all the gentlemen with serious intentions.
Once it was understood that she was not particularly looking to be married except for the deepest love and respect, she was much in company with the "perpetual bachelors", men who were not interested in the grasping talons of the ton. Darcy and Bingley had numbered among them only a year ago.
It was the last week of October, and the Granvilles were holding their annual Harvest ball. It was a terrible crush, but Sam was having fun. She and Lady Violet Granville were talking to several young lordlings about the intricacies of dancing the Spanish flamenco, which was a terribly shocking thing to talk about, but nobody minded.
Sam looked up, and met the eye of Colonel Fitzwilliam. He looked shocked to see her, mirroring the shock on her own face. She turned to look at one of the young men who called her attention, and when she looked back he was gone.
She excused herself and went over to Lizzy. "Colonel Fitzwilliam is here," she said. "I just saw him. Did you know he was back?"
Lizzy smiled knowingly. "Did you talk to him?"
"No, I lost him in the crowd."
They went over to Darcy and told him. He looked surprised. "He didn't send word that he was back. I don't think Aunt Eleanor even knows." He gave Lizzy a gentle squeeze of the hand. "We'll see him tomorrow I'll wager."
Sam didn't remember a single thing from the rest of the night. All she could think about was him.
The next morning Sam and Georgie were just barely finished with breakfast when Colonel Fitzwilliam was announced into the music room.
Georgie flew at him gleefully and he hugged her, his eyes never leaving Sam's. For the life of her, she couldn't look away, struck by the intensity of his gaze.
Georgie finally stepped back. "I'll tell them you're here," she said, and exited, closing the door behind her.
The two just looked at each other. "Do you still hate me, Miss Langford?" he asked finally.
She blushed, and tugged at her shawl. "No, not hate, no, I..." Where the Sam Hill was her brain?!
"Then why didn't you send word?" he asked, taking a tentative step forward. "Darcy would've put it in his letters."
"What?" she asked, bewildered. "P.S. Sam doesn't hate you?"
His manner grew stiff. "You didn't read my letter did you."
She gaped at him. "Letter?" Then she remembered, and facepalmed. "Your letter! Oh no- I completely forgot about it... I never read it..." She blushed furiously as she confessed, "I was so angry I put it in the drawer and-" she gasped. "Is it still at Hunsford? No, Charlotte would have sent it to me..." Where was it?
He turned away from her to stare at the piano. "I see," he said flatly.
She stared at him, his shoulders hunched, back bowed, his fist pressed to his mouth, and couldn't bear the sight of him in pain.
"I should go," he said stiffly. "I am sorry, Miss Langford, for causing you so-"
"Wait," she blurted, reaching out to touch his sleeve. "Wait, just, wait." And she bounded out the door and up the stairs to her room. What was in that letter?
She tore her room apart looking for it and finally, finally, found it in the pile of designs that had come with her from Pemberley. She sank to her knees on the plush carpet and opened the seal.
The Colonel's strong neat handwriting filled the page.
"Be not alarmed, madam, at the receipt of this letter. I will not press the request that was so disgusting to you, but I demand you hear me out. No, forgive me, I do not demand, I just ask. Please give me a chance to explain my awful speech."
Sam wiped away a tear that had fallen, and kept reading.
"First things first, dear Samantha, I do love you. I loved you ever since I ran away from you - and that was a cowardly thing to do. I had convinced myself it was simply a tendre, that it was better if I nipped your expectations, and mine, in the bud. I would not dare to marry without being able to provide for my wife. You deserve better than a Colonel's half-pay. So I left, and convinced myself it was only my heart that was suffering. And then at Bingley's wedding, you were twice as beautiful then and I couldn't bear to be near you. You ignored me, as was your right, and I convinced myself you were over me. By March I had nearly convinced myself I was over you, and then there you were in my aunt's drawing room, like a breath of fresh air. And then to learn that you were independently wealthy, that you were still unattached - all my affection for you came flooding back and I saw no impediments to our marriage. I lost my head like a fool, and instead of speaking of love, I spoke to you of money. And now you think me a fortune-hunter and a coward. I beg you to forgive an old soldier who doesn't know how to be charming when his goal is in sight. And my goal, my dearest, is you by my side. Say you forgive me, and I will spend the rest of my life proving that the only thing I need in this world is you. Just you.
Your embarrassed suitor,
R.F."
Sam wept unashamedly into a handkerchief. All these months... she felt like a first-class idiot. And poor Richard, thinking she wouldn't forgive him...
She grabbed the letter and ran back downstairs. The music room was empty. She stopped in her tracks, bewildered. He'd left. Sam almost started crying again. Would he forgive her for her stupidity?
Georgie re-entered the room and frowned at Sam. "Are you well?" she asked kindly.
Sam shook her head. "He's gone."
"Who?"
"Your cousin. He's gone."
The young girl smiled. "He's in the library." She stepped out of the way as Sam bolted from the room and made a beeline to the library.
Darcy was just coming out, and gave Sam a long, measuring look. "Five minutes," he said gently. "I wouldn't want to duel my cousin." He ushered her into the library, and closed the door behind her.
Sam abruptly found herself face to face with an anxious looking Colonel Fitzwilliam. She held the letter out. "I read it," she said weakly.
"And?" he asked, standing at parade rest, his hands clenched so tightly together his knuckles were white.
"And I'm sorry I didn't let you explain," Sam said, taking a step closer. "I'm sorry I lost your letter, but I was trying so hard not to think of you and how hurt I was..." She shook her head, unable to find words as tears started to fill her eyes.
He took a step closer. "Can you forgive me for being a blind fool?" he asked quietly.
She gave him a little crooked grin. "Only if you forgive me for being a stubborn fool."
"Deal," he said instantly.
They smiled at each other, and Sam's heart began to float a little bit.
He took a step closer, near enough to reach out and touch her. "Dare I ask if I have any hope?" he asked, his countenance incredibly earnest. "You haven't fallen in love with one of your many admirers?"
Sam smiled. "Those guys at the ball? The only reason they like me is because I am not on the prowl for them." She blushed and glanced at her feet. "You have hope, sir."
He beamed, and reached for her hand. "May I ask-"
"No," she interrupted, making his face fall. She might, might, be in love but she was still a rational being. "No, don't ask me anything yet." She squeezed his hand. "You and I have spent so much time trying to convince ourselves that the other wasn't a suitable prospect, and I've just now realized you do feel for me after all. Can we, can't we get to know each other first, properly? And in a few weeks, once we've both processed a little, you can ask-" she bit her lip, "you can ask whatever you want to ask me. Will that suit?"
He bowed over her hand, and kissed it. "I bow to your superior wisdom," he said, still beaming. "May I call on you tomorrow?"
She blushed. "You may."
He reluctantly released her hand. "Thank you, Miss Langford." He opened the door to the library and went out, almost running into Darcy. "See you tomorrow old man!" the Colonel said cheerfully.
Sam left the library and fairly floated to the drawing room, all smiles.
The Darcy's waited patiently for all of twenty seconds before a near-frantic Georgie pounced on Sam. "Tell us! Tell us the news! Are you engaged?"
Sam hugged her tightly and laughed. "Not at all."
Their smiles dropped. "Why not?" Darcy demanded. "What has he done now!"
"Exactly as I asked him to," Sam admitted. "We are going to get to know each other properly, first. After all, we've only been acquainted three months out of a year and a half, and most of that was chaperoning you two."
Darcy and Lizzy shared a look, and nodded. "Good decision," Darcy said. "I would not see either of you in an unequal marriage."
Sam blushed. "Thank you." She hadn't blushed this much since her first crush in middle school.
-P-
"Samantha, stop fidgeting or I shall be forced to sit on you," Lizzy threatened, the next morning.
Sam huffed and paced another quick circle. "I can't help it. I'm nervous. What if I say something stupid? What if I bring up something completely unsuitable? What if-"
Before Lizzy could hide her smirk, the butler entered and announced, "Lord Kearning, to see you."
Sam stifled a groan. Lord Kearning was one man who couldn't take a hint. He was convinced that a no-nonsense American heiress was just what he needed to forward his politics, but he was so boring. If he had anything other than a monotone and an unfortunate love of gaudy monocles, he might have been a good prospect, but now with Colonel Fitzwilliam's portending visit...
"Good morning, Mrs. Darcy, Miss Langford," Lord Kearning said, bowing.
They both curtsied. "Good morning, sir," Mrs. Darcy said, and offered him a seat in a single chair. "How is your mother?"
He directed all his answers to Sam, and she replied to him politely and concisely, but with no interest whatsoever. He still didn't leave. Apparently, the monocle wasn't good for seeing past the end of his nose.
"Colonel Fitzwilliam," the butler announced.
Sam rose to her feet eagerly.
The Colonel entered the room, bowed to Mrs. Darcy, and took a step forward. "Miss Langford," he uttered.
She held out a hand. "Colonel," she said, curtsying, and trying to ignore the rising blush on her cheeks.
He took her hand, and kissed it gently as he bowed. "It is a pleasure to see you this morning," he said, completely ignoring the surprised Lord Kearning.
"You also," Sam said, smiling at him. "Would you care for some tea?"
"I would, thank you."
Lord Kearning suddenly discovered something incredibly important which he had to go do at his club, and excused himself. Chagrined, he acknowledged to himself that he was firmly out of the running for Miss Langford's hand.
Mrs. Darcy got her enjoyment for the next half hour watching Sam and her suitor make mooncalf eyes at each other and talk about... Napoleon's battle strategies?
Then Mrs. Metcalfe and Mrs. Thornton came by, and Sam unwillingly dragged herself towards the conversation to support Mrs. Darcy against the matrons of the ton. Colonel Fitzwilliam parked himself by the mantel and indulged himself in gazing at the love of his life. She blushed becomingly, but continued to ignore him in favor of necessary gossip.
The Colonel stayed for dinner. The Darcy's, after one course, gave up trying to engage either Sam or the Colonel in conversation, and let them debate with each other across the table about... treehouses?
In the music room after dinner, Georgie obliged them with a song, and afterwards joined her brother and sister on the sofa. Sam and the Colonel were arguing about steel manufacturing. "Damascus," Sam was saying. "Two hundred years in the future, it's still gonna be Damascus steel." She knew this, but the pigheaded Colonel was convinced England was going to take the lead.
Georgie frowned. "Are they going to argue every time they speak?"
Lizzy smiled at her husband. "It does seem to be an effective way to get to know your future spouse," she mentioned.
He picked up her hand and kissed her fingers. "Indeed."
Georgie rolled her eyes and glanced discreetly back at Sam and Richard. They were still discussing steel.
-P-
The next day, Colonel Fitzwilliam showed up at the Darcy townhouse with a smart little open carriage, and offered to take the ladies to Hyde Park during the "unfashionable" hour to look at the ducks. They all accepted eagerly, and went to get their coats.
Sam was the first one back in the foyer.
"Miss Langford," the Colonel said, stepping closer to her. He conjured a small flower from his sleeve, presenting it to her with a bow.
She took the little autumn crocus with a smile and a blush. "Where did you find a wildflower in London?" she asked, tucking the flower into the buttonhole of her spencer.
"My mother's garden," he said, and added in a stage whisper, "don't tell her. She guards it very jealously."
Sam laughed. "Let us hope we don't encounter Lady Matlock then," she teased. She sobered with a sudden thought. "Colonel, I..."
He frowned. "What is it, dearest?"
She fidgeted with her sleeve. "Have you told your family, about me? Will they accept me as your choice?" She glanced up at him. "You could do a lot better than me, never mind the money."
He reached for her hand, and kissed it reassuringly. "My mother suspected my partiality for you last year, and I told them yesterday that I was courting you."
"And?"
"My mother is overjoyed to see me settling down. My father is disappointed that I haven't picked an 'English rose', but he could see that I was serious. He's read your book, and once I told him it was you, he was reconciled. I think he wants you to make me run for Parliament."
Sam grimaced. "How about no."
He chuckled. "That's what I told him. After this month, I am done with government service in all forms."
She stared at him. "What?"
He cleared his throat. "Ahem. Well. Don't tell anyone, but, I'm retiring from the military."
"You are?"
He nodded. "The trip to Portugal was my last assignment. After this month, I will be the Honorable Richard Fitzwilliam, Esquire." He gave her a hopeful grin. "And once I get married, the Meadowfaire estate is mine."
"Meadowfaire?" Sam echoed.
"The little estate off Matlock, that's been in trust for the second son for the last two generations," he explained. "Father is happy to get it off his hands." His smile gentled. "You'll love it. It's small, but it has character."
She blushed. "I'd like to see it."
Before he could say anything, Lizzy and Georgie came back, and they all piled into the carriage. Somehow, not at all by design thank you Georgiana, Sam ended up sitting next to Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Hyde Park was mostly full of children and their nurses, desperate to get in the last outings before winter set in. The ponds were full of ducks, desperate to rest before moving on south.
Neither Sam nor Fitzwilliam noticed a thing, both too highly aware of the other's close presence. If this is what it's like being in love, it's a miracle any of us survive it, Sam thought, repressing the desire to lean into his side. It was kind of cold...
The colonel, for his part, was finding it hard not to wrap an arm around her.
They stopped at Gunter's for hot chocolate and cookies, "Okay, okay, biscuits, whatever Lizzy," and Georgie asked to stop by the music store. "Wait. One more cookie for the road."
Glare.
"Don't give me that look. A biscuit is a flaky bun you eat with gravy, possibly with fried chicken. This is a cookie. You will never convince me otherwise."
"There's something to be said for a woman who stands her ground," Fitzwilliam said, smirking.
Sam gave him a small curtsey and a smile. "Thank you, sir."
-P-
Two days later, the Darcy's and the Fitzwilliam's attended the theater together. Everyone noticed the Colonel and Miss Langford together, and the murmurs started.
-P-
