Chapter Two

A/N: Hope you like it. Do check out my other P&P Story, Alternative Therapy for his monster-in-law's nerves in which Darcy puts Mrs. Bennet in her place.

I have changed Matlock Estate to Milton Hall, as it is the real seat of the Fitzwilliam family. The largest private home in England, it is said to have inspired Max de Winter's estate Manderley in Daphne Du Maurier's Rebecca. Do read it if you haven't, it's awesome.

Without further ado, the chapter.

1/4/16-Added a bit of prose to this chapter.


Three Wise Men

London

20th September 1804

Fitzwilliam Darcy sat silently in his chosen and rather uncomfortably hard wooden chair in a seedy tavern situated in the other side of London, observing the sombre expression on his cousin's face being replaced by an honest, wide grin as he skimmed through a missive from his sister, Alina.

Whatever she had written must have been supremely amusing as Richard was chuckling still as he folded the letter carefully and tucked it into his coat pocket. The serene, secret smile stuck on his face, he closed his eyes and leant back in his more comfortable cushioned chair, balancing rather precariously on the two hind legs, his face upturned to the heavens as if in gratitude.

'I am honored, Richard,' bit out Darcy, exasperated by his cousin's sudden vow of silence. He had been summoned to this hell hole by an untidily scrawled note upon receiving which he had abandoned all the duties assigned to him by his father and hailed a bloody hackney cab to reach the designated meeting place as soon as possible only to met with unrelenting silence as Richard sat slumped in his chair, staring moodily into the fire and refused to utter a single word. 'Truly honored by the faith you've shown in me by revealing your deepest secrets in my lowly presence. You have trusted me more than any man could be expected to trust a blood relation who has always fulfilled his filial obligations towards you and considers you his dearest friend. I am overwhelmed by your kindness and thus, beg passionately for your handkerchief so I can stem the flow of me happy tears-'

This indignant speech was interrupted by a loud snort from behind them and they both looked back to see Lord Wentworth, their friend and Cambridge fellow, smirking devilishly as he inclined his head in their general direction in greeting.

'Really, Richard,' exclaimed Lord Wentworth as he pulled out a chair and took a seat on their table. 'What could possibly induce you to ask this cranky old man for help?'

'Why must you both compare me to cranky old men and foul tempered old maids whenever we meet?', complained Darcy, childishly. 'I do not believe that I have done anything to merit the infernal titles.'

'Of course, Darcy', agreed Richard, speaking for the first time. 'Your long lectures only have the misfortune of resembling the enlightening sermons of a certain Lady at Rosings' park so you certainly do not deserve either title. Your correct title is Lady Catherine De Bourgh the second.'

Lord Wentworth could not hold in his amusement at this witty comparison and burst out laughing while Darcy's face was deformed by a particularly nasty scowl which might have caused a lesser man to quake in his boots but as Richard had been on its receiving end for the better part of his childhood, it had no effect on him.

'Well gentlemen,'said Lord Wentworth, his face rather becomingly flushed from the hearty bout of laughter, 'Now that we have accomplished the prerequisite of being amused at Darcy's expense, may we proceed to the matter at hand, for which my meeting with a rather fetching bird was rudely interrupted?'

'One of these days you will end up with the French disease and die a painful death, Wentworth,' said Darcy prudishly. He was rather proud of his accomplishment of not succumbing to the allure of the various bits of muslin that lined London's unsavoury streets.

'You might blame your cousin for this, Darcy,' shot back Niklaus, grinning. 'He was the one who bribed one of the light skirts outside to accost me and clutch the lapels of my fine coat rather desperately. I had to pay her in order to get her to release me.'

Richard snorted rather drunkenly and burst out rather suddenly, 'I received my letter of acceptance to the army today. I am now-officially-a Lieutenant Colonel in his Majesty's army.

The lighthearted chuckles of earlier were now replaced by a stunned silence. Neither Darcy nor Lord Wentworth looked particularly delighted at this piece of news.

'And thus, the young 'un went off to war,' quoted Niklaus, rubbing his face rather wearily. Richard's application for a Commission in His Majesty's Army a year ago had been the subject of various arguements between them from the time Richard had turned eligible to apply for it. They had managed to delay it till the last possible year but Richard had refused to agree and sent his application the day he attained majority.

'You will not be persuaded otherwise, Richard?,' asked Darcy, his demeanour serious.

'No,' Richard's short reply betrayed no hint of doubt or a possibility of wavering from his decision.

'Though we may worry about your dashing self like a pair of mother hens', admitted Lord Wentworth, his expression pained, 'We do agree that the army is best option for a man in your position. It is the most respected, the most prestigious of all the professions you could've chosen and you will maintain your position as a gentleman.'

Darcy nodded his agreement. 'You are a brave man, Richard. Doing this without Uncle Damien's consent couldn't have been easy but you have managed to accomplish it. I congratulate you and commend your courage.'

Niklaus raised his glass in support and the three of them toasted Richard's success and celebrated his inclusion into the merry band of redcoats.


Three hours later

Richard was curled up on the dirty carriage seat of the hired carriage, hiccoughing drunkenly at frequent intervals as Niklaus observed him with a sort of detached fascination from his seat across him. Darcy had wished to travel in solitude and thus, it was only the pair of them in the carriage.

'You're drunk as a wheelbarrow, old fellow', said Niklaus, the amusement evident in his tone, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth. 'Am I to drag an ape drunk like yourself across my father's threshold? He will think you an uncouth, commonplace sailor-'

'Not a-a sailor', replied Richard, jumping up in his seat each time he hiccoughed. 'I am a brave English warrior who will rip my enemies apart with one blow from my sword, splattering their insides on the ground.'

Niklaus grimaced at the gory picture. 'You disgust me. War does not mean shredding your opponents to bits-'

'For you then, my dear friend,' declared Richard, falling to the floor in his drunken attempt to bow to Niklaus. 'I will spare them and only run them through my sword once.'

'Which will be a real comfort to them I'm sure,' muttered Niklaus, helping Richard back into his seat. Just as he made to move back, Richard grasped his hands and kept him there, kneeling on the filthy floor of the carriage.

'Will I be able to sleep, Nik?', he asked, his eyes wide like a scared child looking for reassurance after a terrifying nightmare. 'Will I be able to live in peace knowing I have taken a life?'

'I...I do not know, Richard,' he replied, out of his depth. 'I have never killed a man so I cannot tell you about its aftermath.'

Richard released his hands rather abruptly and leant back against the grimy wall, closing his eyes as if to guard himself against the thought of the repercussions of his choice of a profession.

Niklaus opened his mouth to reassure him, then decided otherwise and turned his head to stare out of the mucky window of the carriage as they approached his house in Mayfair.


The next morning

Niklaus stood outside the stables, dressed shoddily in mismatched attire, his head wrapped in a gaudy, red scarf, which would cause his valet to die from shame if anyone looked at him but thankfully there was no one outside at four in the morning to observe his faux pas except Richard who was too busy saddling his horse to notice his clothing choices.

'I wish you the best of luck Richard', he said finally. 'I hope you emerge unscathed from the confrontation with Lord Milton.'

'You take an inordinate amount of pleasure in my impending doom,' commented Richard as he adjusted the saddle. 'It is revenge for my rather spectacular singing performance in front of father last night I presume.'

'I have never heard such a...moving rendition of 'Drown it in the bowl' in all my years on this Earth', agreed Niklaus. 'I think you managed to torture every living being within a five mile radius.'

Richard merely grunted in response as he mounted the horse.

'Well, young Nik', he said, looking down at the dowdy figure of Niklaus from atop his huge sweet goer, 'I bid you a fond farewell. Remember to visit Michelle and her mother at G and look after Darcy at Cambridge. He'll need your help with that rake, Wickham.'

'Aye, Captain',replied Niklaus, grinning mischievously. 'I'll make sure to tell Michelle how bewitched you are with her too.'

Richard aimed a hard kick at his chest but Niklaus leapt out of the way and disappeared into the house.

Richard sighed heavily in resignation and turned his steed and trotted out of the stables. He had news to impart, to a pair of disgruntled parents and a miffed sister waiting for his arrival at Milton.


Milton Hall

23rd September 1804

My Darling Mich

I was very pleased to receive your letter the day before last. It helped in lifting my spirits (I was feeling quite morose, all alone in this giant house) and for that I'm grateful. But unfortunately, the arrival of your letter also led to the discovery of my mischief. For you see, according to Miss Price, writing letters unsupervised is not an advisable past time for a young lady. She seems to have forgotten that she was the one who had asked me to write letters in the first place.

And so I was asked to show all my letters to Miss Price before leaving them for the post. I refused her on the grounds that it was My Private Correspondence and she had no right to read it. Consequently, I was taken to Father's study (Sometimes I wonder if she has no better job than bothering Father all the time? I am tempted to think that she's half in love with Father!) and made to stand there like a guilty party while she narrated my so called follies to him. Father, thankfully, agreed with me on the condition that I show my letters to him. I have no issue with the sentence pronounced. After all, a governess cannot be made party to the Fitzwilliam family secrets that I'm 'bound' to spill in my letters and especially not one who is the 'the Very Soul Of Discretion' like our Miss Price.

Father has been in a black mood since last morning when he received some correspondence from London. I think it has to do with Richard, for Richard didn't come home but entered the Fitzwilliam family pew quietly after the Sunday services begun. While someone might think that it was quite religious of my brother, I do know he only did this to avoid Father's wrath for even my father cannot raise his hand or voice on him in Church where we all must maintain the strictest decorum. They are downstairs in father's study and Father is shouting at him again. I wonder what he has done to deserve this treatment? He has been an exemplary student at Cambridge, the best in rowing and second to only Cousin Darcy in fencing. All Father and Mother seem to do is shout and rant and rave at him. My poor brother.

I'm sending the book of fairytales as I promised and you need not worry about the charges for Father has already taken care of it. It will reach you a day or two after my letter so that you are aware that you do not have to pay for it. Honesty is rarer than French wine these days. My Best Regards to your mother and grandmother and love to sustain you till we see each other again.

Yours, most sincerely,

Alina

P.S. Oh dear! I have finally found out what Richard has done to warrant Father's anger. He has gone and purchased a commission in His Majesty's Army. Father is furious and Mother is heartbroken. They tried their best to convince him to join the ranks of the clergy or become a barrister but my dear brother is adamant that he will become a redcoat. England and France have been at war intermittently my whole life and while I do care for England, I do not want to lose my dear brother to the ravages of war. It seems that our concerned pleas are falling on deaf ears for my brother has stamped out of the room and proceeded to the Guest Wing. He might have left the house altogether were it not for the scandal that would inevitably follow his departure and residence at any other establishment for why would the son of an Earl sleep at an inn when his Estate was just 5 miles away? I must go and console mother now. God bless you, my dear friend.

End of Chapter Two


If you liked it, do take a minute to review, you'll make my day :)

PS If you find yourself bored by the letters in the coming three chaps, telling you in advance that from chapter 6, this story is in prose.

Response to Reviews on Chapter One

English Lit Lover: Best first review ever! Thank you :D

Politta-crr-What a username. Thank you Politta :) I was very sad in the last chapter too. Losing someone is a really painful process and writing it..well, some of it came from experience.


TRIVIA

The song Richard sang with great gusto in front of the entire Wentworth household.

Drown it in the Bowl.

The glossy sparkle on the board,

The wine is ruby bright,

The reign of pleasure is restor'd,

Of ease and fond delight.

The day is gone, the night's our own,

Then let us feast the soul;

If any care or pain remain,

Why drown it in the bowl.

This world they say's a world of woe,

That I do deny;

Can sorrow from the goblet flow?

Or pain from beauty's eye?

The wise are fools, with all their rules,

When they would joys controul:

If life's a pain, I say again,

Let's drown it in the bowl.

That time flies fast the poets sing;

Then surely it is wise,

In rosy wine to dip his wings,

And seize him as he flies.

This night is ours; then strew with flowers

The moments as they roll:

If any pain or care remain,

Why drown it in the bowl.