Disclaimer : I don't own Pride and Prejudice.

Close enough but still not her - Part 2

France, October 1811

"Ouch!"

"And here I thought you were a man Colonel."

"And I thought you were a nurse, not a Frenchman, Miss Beatrice."

The woman laughed.

"Well Colonel Fitzwilliam, if you hadn't strained yourself this much, we wouldn't be here right now. You should learn to rest."

"I can't rest while the frenchies attack us," protested the man.

Miss Beatrice took on a calmer voice, laced with the slightest bit of concern.

"If you die because you're too tired to even see straight, you won't be help to anyone."

The nurse ended her work in silence.

"Thank you, Miss Beatrice. I heard you were leaving us. You will be greatly miss."

"That's not what you were saying two minutes ago."

"Well, your torturous way of healing won't be, but your presence certainly will," said the Colonel to lighten up the mood.

"Charmer."

"Any chance of coming back? Not that I don't understand that a young woman like you would prefer to stay away from the war. It is not a pretty sight."

"On the contrary, I would rather stay here. But my parents disagree. I trust you Colonel, please, do not repeat what I am about to reveal."

Colonel Fitzwilliam was surprised by the request to say the least.

"You may count on my silence Madam."

"Thank you," appreciated she. "Beatrice is not my name."

"You wouldn't be the first."

"I'm the youngest daughter of the Baron of —. When I turned sixteen, I was quite set into not going out into Society. I managed to convince my parents to let me enrol as a nurse. It took a lot of persuasion for sure. But I didn't want to be pinned down by Society. One of their conditions was that my position could not be linked back to our family name. And so was born Beatrice Martin."

"But now your parents suddenly want you back."

"Yes. It was fine with them as they don't have a particular need to marry me off. I do not have a brother. But my elder sister is supposed to inherit the estate and the fortune of our family. Well, her husband will, you know what I mean. It seems that something came up though for my parents disinherited her and made me their sole heiress."

"So you have to go back to London and find a proper husband."

"Unfortunately, yes."

"I assure you there is no need for the long face. There are plenty young ladies who enjoy themselves at balls and other social interactions."

"Do not laugh at me Colonel. There may be some fun in a ball, it certainly lacks a purpose. A useful one, that is. Being a Lady in today's Society is not something I rejoice in. But I will do my duty to my family."

"Well, I, for one, will rejoice in meeting you in London Miss?"

"Heather. It will be Lady Heather."

London, February 1812

"May I introduce Lady Heather of —? Lady Heather, Colonel Fitzwilliam."

The Colonel bowed over her hand and deposited a slight kiss.

"It is a pleasure to meet such a beauty."

"I see you're quite the charmer Colonel."

An observer could have easily noticed the mirth in the eyes of the pair.

"It is nothing but the truth. I do hope you will give me the pleasure of a dance."

"I suppose you could have my supper set."

A ball had been organized for Lady Heather coming out in Society. Thus, she was the most discussed topic of the night and the most sought out dance partner for unmarried men who wanted an opinion on her or wanted to attract her good graces. Whatever scandalous thing her sister had done, it was easily forgotten when a fortune and an estate were the prize.

Lady Heather was certainly relieved when Colonel Fitzwilliam came to claim his dance. She already had had enough of keeping a mask for men she didn't know and barely consider.

"How is your evening going?" asked Colonel Fitzwilliam.

"I'm tired of it. I can't have a conversation with a little amount of sense."

"Well, I know I have been away from civilisation for some time, but I do not recall the purpose of a ball being conversation."

"You are mocking me again Colonel. But maybe you can enlighten me as to why men look at me strangely every time I spoke about politics, literature or philosophy."

"Probably because they know less than you do and don't want to admit it."

"Men have such a high opinion of themselves… I'm glad you're here."

"Should I assume you do not consider me a man then?"

"You're my Colonel. There is a high difference."

Lady Heather house, London, February 1812

"The Colonel Fitzwilliam," announced a footman.

Lady Heather perked up.

"Please, let him in," said she.

She didn't see the surprise look her mother sent her. Two gentlemen had already visited this morning and Heather hadn't shown the slightest interest in them.

"Lady Augusta, Lady Heather," politely saluted the gentleman.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam, it a pleasure to see you," answered the mother while the daughter performed a courtesy. The military man was a pleasing conversationalist and easily win the not bad grace of Lady Augusta.

The mistress of the house had to absent herself for a brief moment and was quite surprise at the topic of conversation upon her return.

"Are you talking about war?" asked she astonished. She needed to have a severe talk with her daughter. She should know better than to engage into men's matters.

"Of course not," was quick to reassure the Colonel. "I wouldn't want to distress such a delicate young lady." The delicate young lady was barely holding her mirth at his words. "We were discussing History."

"The rise and the fall of the Roman Empire," added Lady Heather innocently. "It was leading us to the conclusion that Napoleon's Empire has to fall as well one day." She was definitively getting a sermon later, decided her mother.

Certain habits soon followed. Whenever Lady Heather took a stroll in a park or visited a museum, the Colonel wasn't far behind, meeting her "unexpectedly", the next outing being decided in whispers at the occasion. And while they were both in Town, Lady Heather always kept her supper set for him, no matter how late he might find himself to a ball for a reason or another. Of course, Colonel Fitzwilliam was also paying numerous calls at Lady Heather's house.

The steady attention of the military man was well noticed by Lady Heather's mother. Who reported it to her husband. The gentleman reputation was established as good and the connection to the Earl of Matlock was soon deemed worthy, such as it was agreed that if Colonel Fitzwilliam were to ask, he would be granted Lady Heather's hand.

He never came.

Brooks's, St James's Street, London, April 1813

Darcy was sitting comfortably, nursing a brandy, and, more importantly, letting Colonel Fitzwilliam do most of the talking with a boisterous acquaintance. Now, Darcy had far from forgotten the remonstrances of his dear wife Elizabeth about his character, but the gentleman enjoyed a good silence here and then. It just so happened that his cousin had decided to drag him to the club in one of those moment.

Finally, the unwanted gentleman departed, leaving the two cousins to their own devices. Darcy was those forced to partake in the conversation. His closeness to Richard made it bearable and even pleasurable in some way.

"Aren't you going to resign your commission?" asked Darcy at one point.

"And what else would I do?" laughed Richard.

"Settle yourself," came the simple and natural answer.

Richard groaned.

"I think my dear Mother is doing enough matchmaking without your input."

"Why not consider Lady Heather?"

"Darcy, I do not…"

"No. Listen. You told me she was searching for someone who would be able to take care of her father estate at his passing, for someone with good connection, and for someone that will allow her to be who she is. Whatever that implies. And in turn, as a second son, you've been searching for an heiress. But also, for someone who will understand you. You once told me you were helping her finding an appropriate husband just as she was keeping an eye out for a wife you would appreciate. I am sure you have both made suggestions to the other and have refused every one of them. So, have you never considered that you might be exactly who she needs just as she fulfils your wishes?"

"Err… No, actually I haven't. Maybe you're right. I will consider it."

"Well, don't take too long or the choice might not be yours."

Darcy House, London, April 1813

As was her wont, Heather had come to visit Elizabeth. Since being introduced to each other, the women had become close friends. Pleasant topics were shared but soon the conversation turned to the non-existent relationship between Heather and Colonel Fitzwilliam.

"I am astounded that he hasn't proposed yet," sympathized Elizabeth.

"It's not as he has been courting me," protested Heather. "Nothing happened."

"But it is obvious in which regard you hold him, and he hold you," reassured Elizabeth. "Just as you complement each other."

"Our past history has been far from usual and complicated. Even a bit of unconventional I dare say. I don't think he will ever propose," sighed Heather.

"Believe me when I say I know what a complicated history means," laughed Elizabeth. "Mr Darcy and I certainly didn't come together in one day. At first, I even despised him. He didn't give up on me and, for that, I am eternally grateful. You have the chance of Richard regards and respect since the beginning."

"I suppose… I already rejected several suitors anyway. So far, I have been left a choice in the matter. But if that goes on, my parents will tire of my indecision and end up deciding for me."

"Why not marry Richard?" asked Elizabeth curious.

Heather thought deeply.

"Because he knows me better than anyone. That's kind of frightening," revealed the maiden.

"But you trust him," forged on Elizabeth. "And he trusts you."

"Yes… We do," agreed Heather with something akin to a dreamy smile. But then she frowns. "It doesn't change the fact that we're nowhere close to be wedded."

"Perhaps you should take matters into your own hands," suggested Elizabeth. Maybe Richard didn't want to risk their current friendship by being too forward… Men needed more than a slight hint sometimes.

"You are right," declared Heather unknowingly cutting any thought process Elizabeth was having. "Thank you Lizzie. I shall ask him as soon as possible."

And with those words, Heather stood up and departed.

"Good morning Mr Darcy" saluted the lady as she hastily passed by the gentleman on her way out.

"Lady Heather," greeted back the man.

The master of the house went to his wife, still seated, a cup of tea half raised to her lips.

"Is everything alright my dear?" inquired Mr Darcy.

Elizabeth astonished face turn toward her husband and she blinked, before registering his question and considering her answer.

"I think Heather have just decided to propose to Richard."

"And I thought I married the most singular woman…"