Happy Wednesday, readers!  So you may remember that a couple weeks ago I read Hope for Mr. Darcy by Jeanna Ellsworth, right?  And that in my review I mentioned one of my favorite parts of the story was Colonel Fitzwilliam?  (Just wait until you meet him!)  Well, Jeanna was so kind to pen this lovely interview between the Colonel and me!  How I would love to meet and interview Colonel Fitzwilliam!  I’m pretty sure if I ever did, I would lose the power of speech or the ability to form a sentence! 🙂  lol!

Interview with Colonel Fitzwilliam

Meredith: Good morning, Colonel. What a pleasure it is to have you on Austenesque Reviews! I am not sure I have ever interviewed a member of His Majesty’s Army.

Colonel Fitzwilliam: Certainly not one that is willing to be interviewed on an American Blog, am I not mistaken?

Meredith: (Laughs) Ah no, but England and the United States are no longer enemies.

Colonel Fitzwilliam: I am not sure we ever really were. We both sought to have pride in our individual countries, the freedom to live as we desire, and for our families back home to truly never know the horror the soldier encounters in their behalf. I would say we fought for the same thing.

Meredith: Oh dear Colonel, I must tell you that you are begging me to share the acknowledgment of your book, Hope for Fitzwilliam, after that comment.

Colonel Fitzwilliam: If you must, it is a bit passionate, but what do you expect from the Author, Jeanna Ellsworth? That actually sounded inappropriate. What I meant to say . . .

Meredith: You do not need to explain, sir, Jeanna has a natural ability to speak to the heart. Let me share the acknowledgment right now.

My heart refuses to claim any credit for this book without first acknowledging the real heroes—the servicemen and women who leave their homes and families to protect those who cannot protect themselves. I know many of you refuse to call it a sacrifice, and that it is really more of a privilege, but nevertheless, I acknowledge you.

You risk all to ensure that the Mr. Collinses and bullies of the world are humbled, even if you must do the dirty work of humbling them yourself. You possess a vibrant purity of heart, an intense courage, and not only a rock-solid loyalty to those who you love, but also to those who refuse to acknowledge the service you provide for them while zealously enjoying the benefits.

Nearly all of you come back injured. Some in obvious ways, others in ways not yet understood. Many of you feel like only half the person you once were. But to those of us who you protect, the fact that you willingly fought, makes you more of a man or woman than you could have ever been if you had not fought your battle. In truth, you fought our battle. So, I thank you.

And I want to acknowledge the others in the world

who battle against foes unseen;

KEEP UP THE FIGHT . . .

And when the sun rises on another day, remind yourself that you won yesterday’s battle. Proceed to today’s foes armed with this knowledge:

You are a war hero.

Meredith: Colonel? Are you well?

Colonel Fitzwilliam: (clears throat) Of course, forgive me, it must be my allergies. I lost a few good men at the battle of Queenston Heights, which apparently you Americans refer to as the War of 1812. But instead of sharing with you my sadness that I came home with, may I share with you what I left war with?

Meredith: Whatever do you mean?

Colonel Fitzwilliam: Hope.

Meredith: You wouldn’t be about to share the nursery scene would you?

Colonel Fitzwilliam: Only a morsel of it, this is a blog tour for Hope for Fitzwilliam, the second in the Hope Series Trilogy, is it not?

Meredith: Please proceed, but forgive me as I close my eyes. It takes me to a place that I dearly love.

Colonel Fitzwilliam: I must explain a bit. This takes place in the wee hours of the morning after Charlotte had her late husband, Mr. Collins’, baby. The babe still had no name, and I was to depart for war within the hour. So I named her son, the General. I also was unaware the Charlotte was hearing me speak to her son in the nursery. I had made a blunder of things a few days before and had been unable to mend them with Charlotte. I was about to leave the woman I love without being able to apologize. I was truly hopeless.

“I will always love Charlotte. I will never desert her. But you must remember your orders too; under no circumstances are you to allow another man to break down the fortress she has around her heart. That is a task that I have volunteered for, and I am very confident I do not need reinforcements. So take care of her while I am away. Keep her safe. Speak of me often. Do I have your word, General?” Her son made a screeching sound and then let out a small cry.

Colonel Fitzwilliam started rocking him. “I will take that as a yes. Very good. Now we are partners in this endeavor. You and I will be the only men in her life. We must pray for her heart to change toward me. I may not have a fortune to offer her, but perhaps she does not need a fancy home like Pemberley. Maybe all she needs is love. You tell her that for me, you hear? Tell her she deserves to be loved by a man. But not just any man—this man. Tell her to wait for me. Brag about me if you must, but tell her to hope for Fitzwilliam—a man who went to fight for England but came back only to win the one thing that is worth fighting for: a lady’s heart.”

Meredith: I am afraid, Colonel, that your tenderness in the book takes the readers by surprise. In fact, I am not sure I have seen more passion and commitment before. Might you have another morsel for us?

Colonel Fitzwilliam: What are you hoping for? I read people very well, usually, that is, and it is clear you are hoping for a particular scene.

Meredith: Actually, yes. But we have shared your tender side, and I am very curious to see your devious side.

Colonel Fitzwilliam: My what? Oh, you must have been talking to Darcy. He insists that I am entirely willing to bend the truth when it suits my needs. Why you arching your eyebrow? You think I do too?

Meredith: Why don’t we let the readers decide for themselves. Could you share when you first met Mr. Pastel, Mr. Collins’ solicitor? As I understand it, you had no idea who he was, what he did, nor why the late Mr. Collins was directing two ships through him.

Colonel Fitzwilliam: That is correct. Darcy was “kind” enough to keep me blinded, but he knew that if he gave me just enough information, it would simply be dangling the carrot in front of me. For those of you who read Hope for Mr. Darcy, the first book in the Hope Series Trilogy, there was a ledger found with a business letter that was simply signed, “P&S”. Darcy was able to determine that it was a Solicitor’s office called Pastel and Sons, with offices in both London and Liverpool. Here is the excerpt.

The colonel timed his approach perfectly and knocked another man, who was quite foxed, into the mystery man just as he raised the teacup to his lips. Just as Fitzwilliam had hoped, the drunkard spilled the man’s tea and knocked over a kettle. The colonel grabbed the drunkard and said, “Watch it, man! You have run into this fine gentleman!”

Then he turned towards the mystery man and offered a handkerchief as the man started dabbing at the tea stains on his cravat. “I am terribly sorry,” the colonel continued. “I cannot understand those who drink in the middle of the day. I was hoping this establishment was more fitting for gentlemen like ourselves.”

“It is quite all right,” the nameless man said.

The colonel looked at the man’s face and feigned awareness. “Well, if it is not the man himself! I have not seen you since university!” It was a gamble, but he hoped the man had been schooled.

The man looked confused for a moment and then politely masked it. “A fellow Cambridge man, are you? You obviously know me, but I am afraid that your name eludes me.”

Drat! Fitzwilliam knew the man was somehow connected to Mr. Collins and the office on Dale Street, but nothing else. “Know you? How could I forget the man with the finest knack for numbers I have ever seen? Couple that with a solid appreciation for getting around those old-fashioned laws and, well, you are unforgettable.”

A buxom barmaid came and started cleaning up the spilled tea on the table. “There be anythin’ else, Mr. Pastel?” she asked.

He could have kissed that woman!

Mr. Pastel said, “Just bring us another kettle and cup for me and Mr. . . .”

“I realize it has been a while, but we were chums! You can call me Richard, no need for that ridiculous ‘Mister’ formality. May I call you Clyde?” He prayed this was Clyde. The letter had alluded to another brother, but his name was still unknown.

The man replied, “Ah, now I see why I do not remember you. I am Benjamin Pastel. Clyde is my younger brother. He lives in London now. When we were young, we looked a great deal alike.”

It looked like getting information was going to be easy. The man had evolved from perturbed to confused, then flattered, relieved, and, finally, confident. And it was always the confident man who slipped on the ice. “Forgive me,” the colonel replied. “Yes, you do look a great deal alike, but now I can see the subtle differences. Your jaw is more defined, I believe. So did you both become solicitors then, like your father? The three of you are in business together?” The letter had mentioned a brother and father.

“Yes and no. My brother and I are both solicitors, but I am afraid that my father has left this life.”

“I am terribly sorry. He must be very proud of you though. What exactly is your specialty? Law? Estate planning?”

“I dabble in a great deal of things, but mostly I manage trade businesses.”

Now he was getting somewhere. “Really! How fascinating. I suspect being in Liverpool with its growing port, you must dabble in a bit in shipping.”

The man laughed. “It is a growing metropolis, to be sure. In fact, I am on my way to oversee a shipment in a few minutes. Please sit down and join me for tea, unless you want something stronger.”

“I would love tea, Mr. Pastel.” Colonel Fitzwilliam took his seat just as the new tea was being brought out.

Benjamin Pastel motioned for Colonel Fitzwilliam to fill his cup. Perhaps flattery would keep his tongue wagging. “Do tell me, are you as quick with numbers as Clyde was? That man could whip me with his calculating mind. I spent several study sessions in his chambers, more than I care to admit.”

“Well, I have been doing it longer than he has, so experience counts for something. I cannot say, exactly, that I am better at it, but perhaps I have a stronger work ethic. Maybe I judge him too harshly. I am free to live out my life here in Liverpool, while he is forced to constantly travel back and forth between the offices. But I cannot say he is unhappy with the arrangement. He has always enjoyed the . . . ah, freedoms offered in a large city like London.”

“Yes, the man always knew how to have fun.” At least I hope he did.

“Too true. I, for one, do not see the value of risking so much money at the races only to lose it all.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam was taking a risk pretending to know Clyde, but he was eager to keep Benjamin Pastel talking. He sensed some bad feelings between the two brothers. Benjamin seemed to resent that he had a great deal of work to do whereas Clyde wasted his time traveling and gambling. “I am sorry to hear that he has failed to keep his gaming under control. With his mathematical mind, he was the finest card sharp I have ever come across.”

“He still is when he limits his drink, if you know what I mean.”

“Of course. It has always been that way with him. If it helps any, he spoke well of you. Always said he wished he had your study habits.”

A pensive look came across Mr. Pastel’s face. “That is good to hear. Truth be told, Clyde and I have grown apart a bit over the last few years. I find that our extracurricular habits tend to bring in varying clients.”

“How so? Surely he does not bring in his friends from the tables.”

“It seems so. There have been more than a few shady players in my office.”

“Anyone I would know from Cambridge?”

The man laughed outright. “No, a Cambridge man is the kind of client I bring in. I am slowly weeding out his clients. There are still a few that cause me trouble though.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam felt Mr. Pastel was starting to clam up with all the questioning. It was time to take his leave before Mr. Pastel got suspicious. He looked at his pocket watch and said, “Oh dear, you will have to forgive my poor manners. My regiment is expecting me to address them within the hour. May I be so bold as to say I have thoroughly enjoyed getting to know you? Do you think we could meet again sometime?”

“Of course. Come to 214 Dale Street Tuesday afternoon, and I will show you what a simple tradesman can do for himself. I do not like to boast, but I think I have done well.”

“Indeed you have. I shall do that very thing. What a pleasure it was to meet you! But before I go, I must say that I have not been completely forthright with you.” No, certainly not. But he had to build a certain amount of trust with the man.

Pastel raised one eyebrow slightly before schooling his features. “How so?”

“I used to have a gambling problem. With a great deal of work, I have mastered it. But I can no longer associate with gamblers. You know how it is. They are always throwing out wagers and bets, and the temptation is too great. After what you said of Clyde . . . well, would you mind not mentioning our meeting to him? Reconnecting after all these years could lead me into trouble.”

The man stood, smiled, and shook his hand. “You have just earned my respect, good sir. But I could not help but notice that you offered only your first name.” It wasn’t a statement; it was a question.

I hope I am choosing correctly here. This man seemed like a smart, honest hardworking person. But Fitzwilliam was such an uncommon name. If he told the truth, there would be nowhere left to hide. After a moment’s hesitation, the colonel decided he had bent the truth too much already, a skill Darcy always credited him with. “Fitzwilliam. Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. You may have heard of my father, Lord Matlock.”

Thanks you so much for this lovely interview, Jeanna!  I am all curiosity to find out what happened between Charlotte and Fitzwilliam and how the mystery involving Pastel and Sons plays out!

~~~

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