An Unwavering Trust

by L. L. Diamond

  “So you have come to trust him?”

  A sigh escaped his lips. “Not as much as I wish; it is too soon. I have spent too long distrusting him and his motives.”

  She nodded and stepped from his arms in the direction of the mistress’ chambers as he trailed behind, observing her reactions to the furniture and the room.

  “Perhaps we could find a place for what is in the master’s chambers, and once it is papered, this furniture could be moved into the other room. I suppose a sofa and chaise could be moved into here so the room is not bare.”

  “You mean to use this as a large dressing room of sorts?”

  Elizabeth shrugged as she turned in a circle. “I would prefer it. Then the dressing room and abigail’s room could be used by Thomas and Mary.”

  “I believe Mrs. Reynolds thought the next bedchamber could be used as a nursery. It is not a large room, and there would be room for several small beds. The dressing room would suit admirably for Mary as well.”

  His hand found hers and drew her back into his arms. “What if we decorated the rooms as they stand for us, but we sleep in here?”

  “I suppose we could change rooms from time to time,” she said with a mischievous smile.

  “We could.” He whispered near her ear and felt her shiver. “Perhaps we should try the beds.” His lips found a particularly sensitive place beneath her ear. “Ensure the furniture is still durable.”

  She let out a burst of laughter. “Durable?”

  His fingers began to draw up her skirt as a hand slipped in and around the supple skin of her thigh. He began to move her backwards until the backs of her legs were stopped by the mattress.

  “Perhaps we should.” Her voice sounded rough as he continued to trail kisses along her neck. “We would not want to sleep here later and find the bed did not suit.”

  The inspection of the rooms lasted a few hours, and young Master Fitzwilliam and his wife were not seen by most of the house until tea.

  Their last evening at Pemberley, Elizabeth and Georgiana planned a larger dinner as well as entertainment. When the meal concluded, Darcy followed his father to the library where he settled himself in a chair near the fireplace.

  “Your wife has a wonderful way with Georgiana.” His father studied him as he spoke. “She has seemed to, by instinct, know the correct thing to say when your sister becomes upset over Wickham.”

  “Elizabeth was raised with four sisters. It makes sense she would be capable in handling a young lady of Georgiana’s years. Her own sister Lydia was of a similar age when she died.”

  “She does not speak much of her family,” observed his father.

  He swallowed his drink and furrowed his brow. “She has gradually spoken more and more of them with those she trusts. I am afraid they will always be an emotional topic for her, so she is selective in whom she confides.”

  “I would like to know how the two of you wed… if you are comfortable sharing the tale.”

  His father’s eyes were open with no apparent deceit, and he stumbled as he made to answer. “I… I suppose it could not hurt.”

  Trust would have to be tested sometime, and the elder Darcy would never desire the tale of their introduction to be spread about society.

  The entirety of the story was divulged, from Georgiana’s advice prior to his departure from Pemberley to the day of the wedding itself. When he completed his narration, his father stared at him agape.

  “You wed a stranger rather than abide by my plan.” It was not a question but rather, a statement made in an astonished tone. “I would never have believed it had I not heard it from you.”

  “I was taken with her from the moment of our first introduction.” Why was he so defensive? It was not as if his father was accusing him of some dreadful deed.

  A lop-sided grin appeared upon his father’s face. “That much is apparent in how you relate the tale. You were remarkably observant in your first impression.”

  He reddened and peered down into his empty glass. “I believe I knew then… ”

  “You knew she was meant for you.” The elder Darcy’s smile subsided as he nodded. “It was the same with your mother.”

  “Grandmamma mentioned as much.” A chuckle escaped his lips. “I almost ruined matters during the week in London, and Grandmamma set me straight. Elizabeth would have been well within her rights to refuse my hand, but she hoped I would become the man she met in her uncle’s drawing room.”

  “She trusted you.” His father tilted his head and caught his eye. “As she trusts you now. She is wary of me—I cannot blame her for being so—but she displays an unwavering trust in you. Few men receive such devotion from their wives. Do not ever take it for granted.”

  “I shall not,” he affirmed. “I treasure her faith in me because I know what it took to earn such confidence.”

  “I hope to one day earn such a trust.” The elder Darcy’s gaze was steady and earnest.

  “You have made an admirable beginning.” He held his father’s eye. “I believe you may find success in time.”

  “Thank you.” His father’s voice cracked as he swallowed hard. “I appreciate the opportunity more than you can know.”

  He cleared his throat as he set his glass on a side table. “We should hire an investigator to track down this Gardiner. I do not care for the idea of him remaining where he can still be of harm.”

  “I have it on good authority Gardiner has left England. He shall not return.”

  “That is a relief.”

  “Yes, Richard, Uncle Henry, and I were all relieved at the intelligence.”

  A light knock sounded upon the door. They summoned the person to enter, and Elizabeth stepped through with a broad smile and Thomas in her arms.

  “Georgie and I are ready to begin, if you are quite finished with your brandy.”

  “We are, and I was going to suggest we join you.” His father stood and made his way to Elizabeth, extending his arms to take his grandson. Elizabeth ensured he was tucked against his grandfather, and turned to Darcy with that blasted raised eyebrow.

  “Are you going to join us for the performance?”

  He chuckled as he stepped over to join them. “I would not miss it. I am certain it will be superior to many of the performances in Bath.”

  A small snort escaped her lips. “I suppose you feel that is flattery.”

  “Flattery corrupts both the receiver and the giver…1 ”

  A spark flamed in Elizabeth’s eye, and she smiled mischievously as she turned. “One may define flattery as a base companionship which is most advantageous to the flatterer2.”

  His father’s lips quirked as he glanced to his son. “Sweet words are like honey, a little may refresh, but too much gluts the stomach3.”

  She giggled and shook her head. “I do not know whether anyone has ever succeeded in not enjoying praise. If he enjoys it, he naturally wants to receive it. And if he wants to receive it, he cannot help but being pained and distraught at losing it.4”

  “You read sermons?” his father queried with surprise.

  Elizabeth bit her lip as she reached the open door of the music room. “It is a quote the vicar in Meryton used often in his sermons. I have heard it enough over the years to remember it well.

  “My sister, Mary, read sermons, and I believe she quoted it on several occasions.”

  She grinned again with a lift of her eyebrow. “My own sex, I hope, will excuse me, if I treat them like rational creatures, instead of flattering their fascinating graces, and viewing them as if they were in a state of perpetual childhood, unable to stand alone.5”

  His father halted in place and peered to his son. “Wollstonecraft? It is no wonder Rebecca adores her as she does.”

  “Indeed,” Darcy replied with a laugh. “Indeed.”

  1 Edmund Burke, Reflections on the Revolution in France, 1790

  2 Theophrastus

  3 Anne Bradstreet

  4 John Chrysostom

  5 Mary Woll
stonecraft, A Vindication of the Rights of Women, 1792

  Chapter 30

  June, 2 years later

  Elizabeth sat in her favourite, comfortable spot on the sofa as she embroidered in the morning sun from the window. The tiny gown, which was sewn by her grandmother, was set in her tambour frame while she stitched tiny flowers onto the bodice.

  She paused a moment to run her hand over the swell of her stomach. Her intuition told her this child would be a girl, just as she had been certain Thomas was a boy. Fitzwilliam chuckled at her belief, but she could not shake the feeling this time was different.

  “How are you?” asked Grandmamma as she entered.

  “Tired but well. She is active again.” Her hand rested against the movement to one side of her belly and the older woman chuckled.

  “You are determined with this one as well?”

  She lifted her chin defiantly. “I am. Fitzwilliam will have to become accustomed to my absurdity, I suppose.”

  “I daresay he does not disagree with your assessment, but enjoys teasing you rather than capitulating his agreement.”

  A commotion in the entry hall prompted her to rise and follow the dowager, who made her way towards a young messenger held in place by the butler.

  “I was told to deliver this to Mr. Darcy himself! I have no time to lose!”

  Fitzwilliam strode around the corner from his office. “I am Fitzwilliam Darcy. May I ask your name?”

  “I am Adam Hastings,” the young man said with haste. “I worked in the Pemberley stable with Mr. Johns when I was a small boy.”

  “I do remember you, Adam. He taught you to groom the horses as I recall.”

  “Yes, sir.” He nodded as he held out a letter in his hand. “Miss Darcy asked me to deliver this to you. I rode as fast as I could. I even rode through the night!”

  Fitzwilliam spared no time in taking the missive. “Thank you.” His attention turned towards the butler and Mrs. Green. “Please see that Adam is fed and has a place to rest.”

  They led the young man away as her husband broke the seal and began to read.

  Grandmamma stepped forward with worry etched upon her face. “Is Georgie well?”

  “She is. It is father. He has suffered an apoplexy. My sister asks me to journey to Pemberley as soon as it can be arranged.”

  Elizabeth’s hand covered her mouth. Mr. Darcy had appeared so healthy when he visited Sagemore two months prior.

  Fitzwilliam looked to her and grasped her free hand. “I do not want to leave you, but…”

  “What do you mean leave me, Fitzwilliam Darcy?”

  His grandmother chuckled. “Perhaps, I should inform Mrs. Green that we will all require our trunks packed.”

  As Grandmamma made her way towards the kitchens, her husband turned back to her with pleading eyes. “You must see that I cannot take you with the babe due to arrive any day.”

  “I do not see anything of the sort. I told you before that you will not leave me behind, and you will not abandon me here to have this child without you.”

  He drew her into his arms and kissed her forehead. “I could not bear it if you were to become ill due to the rigors of the trip.”

  “My confinement should not be for another few weeks,” she stated stubbornly. “I can weather the trip as well as anyone.”

  His eyebrows raised. “Thomas arrived a few weeks earlier than we expected your lying in would be.” Fitzwilliam sighed and shook his head. “I know I should insist that you remain here, but I worry you will follow, dragging Thomas, Grandmamma, and Hattie with you.”

  She pulled back with a huff. “I would not have to drag them. They would follow willingly—I assure you.”

  Fitzwilliam gave a chuckle and ran his hands up and down her arms. “Very well. I will not depart without you.”

  Her arms wrapped around his neck and held him tight. “Thank you.”

  “Ensure Hattie and Mary pack everything with haste. We need to depart within the hour if we can manage it.”

  His lips found her forehead to bestow one last kiss before he strode to his study. He disappeared around the corner, and she let out a long exhale. The idea of a journey to Pemberley was not a pleasant one—the jostling of the carriage on her already uncomfortable body a dread she could not now avoid.

  If Fitzwilliam would only be away for a few days, she might have remained, but his father’s condition could necessitate a stay of a fortnight at least!

  “I should side with my grandson and insist you remain,” came Grandmamma’s voice from beside her.

  “He could be gone for weeks.”

  The dowager nodded. “He could, but I am certain he would hurry his return as soon as he learned your time was near.”

  “I cannot,” she whispered. “I cannot wait here. I will not wait here.” Her voice gained strength as she spoke. “The midwife did not expect the babe’s arrival to be imminent when she examined me.”

  “There have been many women who go into their confinement with no warning.”

  “I am aware of such stories.” She passed a hand over her belly. “I will endure this trip. I must.”

  The dowager smirked. “I will remind you of your words when you complain of a myriad of aches and pains due to the jostling of the carriage and the length of the rides. “You are aware he will push from dawn until dark.”

  “It is summer, and the days are long this time of year.” Her hand pressed to her aching back. “I understand the duration of each day’s journey.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes, Grandmamma,” she responded testily. “We will be spending seventeen to eighteen hours a day travelling. I do understand.”

  Her grandmother raised her eyebrows at her tone. “Do not be angry. I needed to be sure, Lizzy. I would feel the same as you, but I wanted to be certain this was not borne of impulse and something you would later regret.”

  “I may hurt and be exhausted, but I will not regret my decision to remain with my husband.”

  Grandmamma nodded. “Then let us be off to Pemberley.”

  They did not leave within the hour but were on the road in just under two, which Darcy considered a veritable success. Hattie, Mary, and James were harried as they stepped into the servant’s carriage with Thomas, yet Elizabeth began to doze a short time after the horses began the long journey. His grandmother sat opposite him the entirety of their travel, allowing Elizabeth to lay her legs across him when she felt the need.

  Complaints of the long days in the confines of the coach were to be expected from Elizabeth, but she never uttered one. She was certain to ache by the end of their first day of travel, yet other than a few grimaces, she remained silent on the matter.

  His watchful eye was trained on her throughout their journey as he studied her for any sign of distress or, God forbid, labour, yet she gave him no cause for such concern.

  Their second day of travel began as the sun emerged just enough to give them some much-needed light. Their night at the inn had been mercilessly short, and Elizabeth gave a great sigh, tucked to his side as they neared the inn that evening.

  “She has handled the trip better than I expected.” Grandmamma spoke in a soft tone, so as not to disturb Elizabeth as she rested.

  “Indeed she has.” He glanced to his wife’s swollen ankles and frowned. “But, the walks she insists upon when we change horses are not of aid to her poor feet.”

  “Exercise helps the aches and pains, and does her good. I remember well the desire to walk when I could no longer tolerate the soreness in my hips from lying or sitting for an extended period of time. The swollen feet and ankles are to be expected.”

  He sighed and gripped her to him as they hit a bump in the road. “I…”

  “You are concerned, Fitzwilliam, which is warranted. Lizzy is an independent young lady, but I do not believe she would object to a bit of coddling after the rigours of this ride.”

  “Indeed, I would not,” Elizabeth rasped.

  “We did not me
an to wake you.” He arranged her curls away from her face.

  “I was not in a sound sleep.” She peered out of the window. “I do not recognise our surroundings, but it seems we are closer.”

  “We are about three hours from Pemberley, but only have about half the daylight required.”

  “Then we will arrive tonight.” To his surprise, she stated it as if it were fact.

  “I had not thought to push forward.” He frowned. “I would never ask you to travel for so long.”

  Her hand rested upon his cheek, and he turned to bestow a kiss upon her palm. “You may not ask, but as long as Jones does not object, I believe we should continue. I can rest when we arrive.”

  “Elizabeth…”

  “Speak to Jones when we change horses, and make your decision then. It is imperative you reach your father as soon as possible, and to stop at an inn for the night would delay your arrival.”

  He shook his head and made to speak, but a finger to his lips halted his words. “I am in earnest. Do not worry for me.”

  His hand pulled her forward as he drew her into his embrace. The babe gave a swift jab to his hand, prompting a smile. Everything was well. Everything would remain well. He had to believe it, else he could not concentrate on the task before him.

  The passage of time dragged by until the change of horses, but upon their arrival at the inn, Jones indicated a willingness to proceed if the family were so inclined.

  Elizabeth exercised and ensured she was prepared for the last leg of their journey, refusing to rest until they were comfortably ensconced within the coach. She propped her feet upon his legs, and once again, dropped to sleep.

  She slumbered until they pulled before Pemberley less than two hours later. Mrs. Reynolds took one look at Elizabeth, and after an admonishing look in his direction, she and Georgiana hurried his wife upstairs for a bath and their comfortable chambers. His grandmother followed close behind.

  He was ushered to his father’s chambers, where the elder Darcy lay still alive in his bed. His father’s valet explained the episode his father endured as well as the effects—his paralysis down the right side of his body and the speech problems that had arisen as a result. The man who had always seemed larger than life was taken abed and suddenly seemed small.