The Recovery of Fitzwilliam Darcy Audiobook Celebration

Hello everyone!

I am here today to celebrate the release of the audiobook for The Recovery of Fitzwilliam Darcy! It was narrated by the marvelous David Pickering, who did a phenomenal job capturing the spirit of the characters. You can listen to a sample at the Amazon website.

What better way to mark the release of the audiobook than to share a deleted scene? This is an alternative point of view scene. The Recovery of Fitzwilliam Darcy is told from Darcy’s and Elizabeth’s perspectives. However, other characters are an important part of the story, none more so than George Darcy, our Darcy’s father. In Chapter 3, Frederick Darcy—who is an old friend of Mr Bennet’s and George Darcy’s cousin—sends an express to George to tell him that he thinks he has found Fitzwilliam, whom they have believed dead for over twenty years. This scene shows us how George reacted to the news and what he does as he waits for Fitzwilliam, Frederick, and Sir William to arrive at Pemberley.

George retired to the library to read until dinner. He sat in his favourite leather wing chair with a cup of tea on the polished table beside him. His solitude was interrupted by the butler, Hudson, who brought an express from Frederick.

George tore open the letter and held it close to the candle to better make out the writing which was messy.

The most extraordinary, incredible event has occurred. I believe, with all my heart and reason, that I have met your son, Fitzwilliam. He was discovered, abandoned and ill, by a couple named Lucas who raised him as their own. The date and place fit, and George, as soon as I saw him, I knew. But you must decide for yourself. I leave this place with the young man and Sir William Lucas immediately.

It is a miracle, George. I hardly know what to write. We will travel as quickly as humanly possible.

FD

George’s hand shook, and he dropped the paper. He gasped for breath, his forehead damp with sweat. Fitzwilliam? It could not be, not after so much time, not after mourning his loss for so many years.

No. No, George silently screamed. He put his head between his knees and took several deep breaths as tears stung his eyes. It cannot be. Yet, Frederick is not prone to folly. If he believes…  Fitzwilliam? Could my son be alive? Might he even now be on his way to Pemberley, to me?

It was an hour or longer later when George felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Mr Darcy? Sir? Are you unwell? Do you need—?”

George shook his head and, after blinking several times, saw the anxious faces of his valet, Ashford and Hudson. Ashford was crouched down in front of him.

“I am well.” His voice sounded unsteady and weak. “A glass…”

Hudson was already hurrying away. In a minute, Ashford pressed a glass of brandy into George’s hand, and he took a long drink.

“I have had…news.” His voice fell to a whisper. “It cannot believe it is true.”

As much as George was absolutely certain his son was dead, he felt a small bubble of optimism that Frederick was not mistaken and he would soon see Fitzwilliam.

But hope had died the day, almost twenty-three years earlier, when he had been told that Fitzwilliam was dead. What little had remained had diminished over the months between that awful day and the one on which Anne had left the world. George had known that he would not marry again and would not, therefore, ever have another child. He was stoic, had withstood the tragedies of his life just as a gentleman—as a Darcy—should. But beneath the veneer of composure lay a grief which had never left him.

George pushed himself out of the chair and walked to the window, which overlooked Pemberley’s broad lawn. He could just make out a copse to the left and the lake to the right. Keeping his back to Ashford and Hudson, and determined to appear strong despite feeling like his legs might fail him, he spoke.

“I am perfectly well. The express was from Mr Frederick. He comes tomorrow.” George cleared his throat and swallowed what was left in his glass. “I shall be in for dinner shortly.”

***

After dinner, he spoke with Hudson and the housekeeper, Mrs Reynolds.

“A situation has arisen that is…complicated. Three visitors arrive tomorrow, including Mr Frederick. I do not know how long they remain. For the time being, their presence must be kept quiet. Keep the other servants apart from them as much as possible.”

“Of course, Mr Darcy,” Mrs Reynolds said.

“They are coming from the south. Send a carriage to meet them.”

“Very good, sir,” Hudson replied.

With this, he dismissed the housekeeper and butler and went to speak to his valet. George then sat by the fire in his bedchamber, staring at it long into the night.

***

In an effort to act as though nothing extraordinary was happening, George went for his customary ride the next morning, but he had to stop partway through when he felt too inattentive to safely continue atop his horse. He sat leaning against a silver birch tree. He could not, would not allow hope, but it was physically painful not to pray that, after so many years of mourning, he would once again have his son. Emotions coursed through his body—anger and anguish most of all—that made his stomach churn and vision blur. He had felt helpless when Fitzwilliam was stolen from him, and he felt helpless this morning when there was nothing he could do to speed time, when he had to find some way to continue on through the seemingly endless hours it would take them to arrive at Pemberley.

George was inattentive when he spoke to Mrs Reynolds after breakfast, and even worse when his steward came to talk about business. George ended their interview early and suggested it was a good time for the man to see to a matter in Derby. It would take him away from Pemberley for four or five days.

For above two hours, George sat in the sitting room he had chosen for the auspicious meeting and did nothing. He nodded when Hudson entered to tell him that the travelling party had been met at the inn at Tideswell and shook his head when asked if he wanted something to eat or drink. Sometime later, Hudson returned to say that the carriage had entered the grounds.

When Hudson left the room, George pressed a hand to his chest, thinking to relieve the pressure he felt. He paced until he heard people approaching the room.

Turning to face the door, he saw three tall figures enter. There was Frederick, but George only glanced at him. Another man, about his age, must be the Sir something-or-other Frederick had referred to in his letter; he also could not hold George’s attention.

George’s eyes landed on the figure of the third man. He still wore a hat, and his head was bowed. But just then he lifted it, removed his hat, and met George’s eye.

George could have cried, for himself, for Anne, and for their little, beautiful, precious child who, he knew without a doubt, now stood before him, grown into a tall, fine figure of a man.

My son, his mind screamed.

That’s it! I hoped you enjoyed this glimpse into George Darcy’s thoughts. The Recovery of Fitzwilliam Darcy is available in through Amazon in paperback, e-book, and now audiobook formats. 😊

© Lucy Marin 2021