A/N: After writing this chapter I have a new and profound respect for historical fiction writers. Well, here goes...

Chapter 16: June 1815

Darcy rode home through the evening twilight. His thoughts were far away on the continent of Europe. With his mind's eye he saw the armies amassing, heard the cannons thunder. Something in the depths of his being yearned to take part in the struggle but the greater part of him was glad to be headed home to wife and child. He wondered if it was cowardice. He thought not. All men, soldiers and civilians alike, would look forward to coming home to a family like his.

He was not hiding from his duty, but rather attending to it. Duty was a relative task, and his was to care for those that God had given him to care for; his family and his tenants. There was no one else to do the job if he was killed in battle. He sighed. Richard must do the fighting for both.

A few hours later, the family was gathered around the dinner table at Pemberley, Darcy at the head with Elizabeth on his right, and Georgiana and Kitty on his left.

"Fitzwilliam," said Elizabeth brightly. "The girls took their sketchbooks into the garden today and I think that Kitty has quite the talent."

Kitty blushed a little at her sister's praise and Darcy's approving look as he replied, "I shall look forward to seeing her work after dinner."

"Kitty is far more talented than I am at drawing even though she has never had a lesson," said Georgiana, eager to compliment her friend.

"Yes, but you are ever so much better at anything musical," Kitty protested shyly.

"It is good that you have separate talents," said Elizabeth. "For this way you can help each other instead of compete."

Georgiana smiled at Kitty and the latter reached out under the table impulsively and took her friend's hand. Georgiana squeezed it back.

Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam stood beside his regiment before Hougoumont House as the smoke from the battlefield to the left rolled over him. The cannon fire was coming swift and fierce now and, as always, his blood quickened at the nearness of the danger. His men were ready to fight, as were the men of the three other companies of Guards who were stationed at the crucial Hougoumont position.

The Colonel of the regiment next him came riding up and Richard saluted him as he approached and dismounted.

"It's getting bloody thick over there," the man commented.

Richard cocked his head as an especially heavy volley thundered nearby.

"You are guarding the north gate I see," the strange Colonel said. "I have orders to send for the Coldstream Guards if anything happens here. This position must not be taken."

"Yes Sir." Richard nodded briskly.

"Very good. And your name Sir?"

"Colonel Fitzwilliam, Sir."

"I am Colonel Farley," said the soldier, lifting his hat to wipe his brow and revealing a shock of fiery red hair.

"You are not Lord Farley, recently married to Miss Anne be Bourgh by any chance?" asked Richard in surprise.

"Yes. I am," Farley returned. "But I don't know you. Do you know my wife?"

"I am her cousin Sir. Lady Catherine is a sister of my father, Lord Fitzwilliam," Richard replied, even as his eyes scanned the woods for any sign of the French.

"Well, a pleasure to meet you Sir."

"Frankly Sir, this is not how I imagined our first meeting," said Richard, looking around at the troops lined up, their faces tense, their muskets ready.

"Because I should be home with my bride?" asked Farley with a slight frown.

"Well…" Richard floundered for words.

"I have been a solder all my life by my own choice, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I didn't have to," said Lord Farley rather coldly. Then, with a wry twisting of his mouth he added, "And in case you hadn't noticed sir, the lady's mother is downright unbearable!"

Richard felt that he should be insulted for his aunt's sake, but he found himself laughing instead. "I had noticed. But cannot you remove your bride to your own home?"

"I intend to, when this is finished. I mean to see this war through." Farley's eyes flashed as he spoke, and Richard recognized the steely look of a born soldier. He wondered for a moment, what would prompt such a fighter to marry a sickly girl like Anne, but then he remembered the family's lost fortune and shook his head sadly.

Farley suddenly drew his sword and at the same instant Richard caught the gleam of musket barrels among the trees a hundred feet away. In one motion, Farley leaped on his horse and raced back to his regiment. Richard bellowed to his men, and the two brigades of French soldiers, realizing they had been discovered, broke from their cover and charged the gate.

Richard shouted the order, "Fire!" and a volley of British musket balls poured out on the advancing enemy. Then it was hand to hand combat, bayonets and sabers drawn.

Richard, on his horse, had the advantage of being able to see what was going on around him. As he wheeled around he saw a French officer break the gate open with a final blow from an axe, and French troops stream into the courtyard. A new chorus of shouts were heard and Richard saw the Coldstream Guard and the Scotts Guard bearing down on the now surrounded Frenchmen. For a moment he spied Farley's red hair in the dust and smoke. Then he was gone again.

Richard reached the gate and, jumping off his horse, threw his weight against the gate along with several other soldiers who realized his design. The gate banged shut and the Frenchmen were trapped in the courtyard. The Coldstream Guards were making short work of them inside the small space. Richard's eyes fell on a young French drummer boy who was cowering against a wall. The boy's eyes were frightened and Richard, unable to help himself, slipped in and dragged the boy out of harm's way.

"We'll have to make a prisoner of war out of you," he said gruffly. "But at least you won't get the same as the others in there." He handed the boy over to a corporal who assigned a soldier to guard him. Richard hoped that there would be a prisoner exchange after the battle.

Fighting continued around Hougoumont all afternoon, but the battle was again focused in the west part of the battlefield. There had been no attack on the house itself for four hours. Richard strained to see what was going on beyond the trees. He rode forward a little, thinking the silence surrounding the house suspicious.

Without warning, an explosion burst at his very feet. With a scream that soldiers know only too well, his horse plummeted to the earth. For a moment, Richard lay stunned. Then another explosion a few feet away, caused him to try and stand but his leg gave way under him. Through the smoke and the red haze before his eyes he saw a mounted figure coming towards him. The man reached down and Richard caught a glimpse of flaming red hair. Richard caught the hand as musket fire began to pepper the ground around them and managed to drag himself onto the horse's hindquarters and throw his good leg over.

"All set?"

"Yes."

The horse jumped forward under Farley's spurs. Richard's leg hit the horse's side hard and pain shot up it. He grabbed at Farley's arm, but it was too late. He was falling. A shot whizzed past his clutching arm and Farley jerked. Richard's head hit the ground with a crash and the red turned to black.

Richard opened his eyes and looked about him in bewilderment. 400 cannons were pouring forth fire and death, seemingly on every side, and the noise was deafening. Around him, Hougoumont and its wood sent up a tall flame through the dark masses of smoke that clouded the field. With a soldier's instinct, he realized that the recent attack had been a deliberate attempt to set the house on fire while engaging the soldiers so that they were unable to put out the flames.

Then he saw Farley. He lay, a few feet away, sprawled out on his back. Richard raised himself on one elbow and began to drag himself over to the man. When he finally reached him, and the blackness had cleared again, he saw that the red of Farley's hair and jacket were coupled with a darker red, that covered the front of his white shirt. The bullet has passed right through his body. Farley was dead. Richard reached over and closed the lifeless man's eyes gently and then fell back, to wait for rescue or death.