Thursday's Child

by Pat Santarsiero

  As Darcy momentarily thought over the doctor’s offer, he realized that though they had been married for almost two months, he could not recall ever having seen Anne completely unclothed. Resignedly he told the doctor he would wait outside until his examination was completed.

  After waiting in the hall for nearly a half hour, Darcy went down to the library and poured himself a drink. As he paced the length of the library, the doctor was finally announced.

  “Mr. Darcy, I have examined your wife. She remains unconscious, and her breathing is shallow.” He hesitated slightly before continuing. “I must unhappily inform you that she has suffered a miscarriage. Were you aware of her condition?”

  By the look on Darcy’s face, it was evident to Dr. Adams that he was not. “We have only been married since the end of April; it has barely been two months,” said Darcy, “and we did not think it likely that Anne would be so soon with child.”

  “The miscarriage has left her extremely weak. I am well acquainted with Anne’s history of ill health, and I’m afraid this episode has only added to her frail condition. The next few days will tell us what we can expect of her recovery. I have left detailed instructions with Mrs. Reynolds as to her care.”

  Before his departure from Pemberley, Dr. Adams informed Darcy he would remain in Lambton for several more days and to inform him immediately if Anne’s condition changed. Darcy and Georgiana kept vigil over Anne for the next two days and witnessed little improvement. However, on the third morning, while Georgiana was sitting beside her bed, Anne opened her eyes.

  “Anne!” exclaimed Georgiana, unable to contain her surprise and relief. “We have been so worried about you. Fitzwilliam left your side only moments ago. I shall go and retrieve him.”

  Anne looked into her sister’s eyes.

  As Georgiana searched Anne’s, she could see the concern in them. “Do not be alarmed, Anne. All will be well.”

  Anne managed to give her sister a reassuring smile as she watched her leave.

  Within moments Darcy was by her side. “I have sent for Dr. Adams, Anne. Pray, how are you feeling?” Anne’s eyes fixed upon a pitcher of water, and Darcy immediately poured her a cup. He helped her to an upright position and gently guided the cup to her lips.

  “I’m feeling somewhat weak,” she managed to say. “Have I been asleep very long?”

  “No, Anne, not very long,” said Darcy. He did not wish to frighten her. They would have time later to talk about what had occurred. Right now he just wanted to make sure she was well. She closed her eyes again, and Darcy eased her back down upon the pillow.

  By the time Dr. Adams arrived, Darcy was pacing the hallway. He met him at the top of the stairs and relayed everything that had occurred during the last three days. Dr. Adams immediately went in to examine Anne.

  He again joined Darcy in the library to relate his findings. “I believe that Anne shall recover,” said Dr. Adams. “However, I feel it is my duty to warn you that if she suffers another similar episode, the outcome may not be as agreeable. Even now, I cannot assure you that her recovery will be complete.”

  “Have you told her of the miscarriage?” inquired Darcy.

  “Yes. You would not wish to keep it from her, would you?”

  “No, of course, I would not. My only concern is for her health. I was afraid such news at this time would only impede her recovery.”

  “I understand, Mr. Darcy,” said Dr. Adams. “I am sure you will see to her wellbeing.”

  Dr. Adams departed with the promise to return to check on Anne’s progress before his return to London. Darcy immediately went to Anne as the doctor’s carriage pulled away. She was sitting up in bed and, as he entered the room, he observed the tears in her eyes. He went to her side and secured her hand in his.

  “I am so sorry, Fitzwilliam. You put your faith in me, and I have failed you,” she sobbed. “I cannot bear it…”

  Darcy sat on the bed beside her and embraced her tightly to his chest. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her it would be all right. Most of all he wanted to reassure her that one day she would again be with child, but he could not.

  “No, Anne, you are not to blame. Do not distress yourself. You must rest and regain your strength.” He kissed her on the forehead and helped her get settled under the covers. She closed her eyes, but sleep would not come easily.

  ~*~

  Darcy made his way down to the library. He poured himself a brandy and sat before the unlit fireplace. He felt as if his life was spinning out of control. His intentions couldn’t have been simpler. He would marry Anne. She would produce an heir. They would live a quiet life and watch their child grow. Was that not what every gentleman wanted? He had been willing to forsake love and passion in order to attain an heir. Was that now to be denied him too?

  By the age of nine and twenty, Darcy was hardly unfamiliar with the intimate company of women. Over a decade ago his cousin Richard had taken his passage into manhood to task, introducing him to a world where, for a price, women would gladly attend his every libidinous need.

  Since his initiation to such pleasures, he had enjoyed, if not many, more than a few such intimate liaisons. He would admit that at first these illicit associations had produced some feelings of guilt—or was it shame?—on his part. But as the years had progressed, he recognized that such liaisons were his best defence against succumbing to the many wiles of the daughters of the ton. Hence, his guilt eventually abated.

  As physically gratifying as those sexual experiences had been, they had always left him feeling empty. There had to be more to it than the physical connection. His two months of marriage had at least taught Darcy that much.

  If he was sure of one thing, it was that he was not going to jeopardize Anne’s life again. There would be no further attempts to produce an heir.

  He thought back to the fleeting days before his marriage.

  He had noticed a slight change in Anne’s health prior to their marriage. At first, he had attributed it to all the anxiety of preparing for the wedding and then the excitement of the actual day itself. Aunt Catherine had insisted upon an almost immediate wedding, perhaps afraid he would change his mind.

  Also, it did not escape his notice that Anne was extremely nervous and distressed on their wedding night. He had thought that once she was settled at Pemberley, she would relax and her condition would improve. That had not been the case.

  When the doctor had disclosed that Anne had been with child, his thoughts immediately went to his mother. Could history be repeating itself? Was he doomed to the same fate as his father? He could not let that happen. He would abstain from exercising his marital rights in order to protect Anne.

  On thinking of the few occasions that he had taken Anne into his connubial embrace, he had to admit, it was not romantic or passionate. It had been done with the one thought of procreation. This would not do. He lowered his head into his hands. He was a man torn. He would never do anything to bring harm to Anne, yet he desperately wanted an heir—for Pemberley, for his family, but most importantly, for himself.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Elizabeth was quite fatigued by the long journey. This was the third day of travelling and, she desperately hoped, the last. They had gotten underway again very early in the morning and, though she had slept part of the way, it was far from restful.

  She knew she was travelling to a small town in Scotland named St. Andrews. But that was about all she knew of her destination. By the length of the trip, she was convinced she would not meet anyone of her acquaintance. She was certainly a long way from Hertfordshire. The carriage finally stopped at their final destination.

  The Fairmont Inn was a quaint looking place. It was not lavish, but Elizabeth thought it quite pleasing. As she walked in, she noted it had a small dining room that overlooked a picturesque view and a sandy beach.

  She apprehensively approached the man behind the desk and gave the name she was instructed to use. She was handed a key and shown to her room by a youn
g girl who informed her that, even though it was still late August, the nights could get quite cool with the wind blowing off the coast and that a fire would be lit for her each evening after dinner. It was not a very large room but tastefully furnished and boasting a small adjoining dressing chamber.

  After she had attended her toilette, she went down to the dining room. She sat at a small table and ordered a modest meal. She didn’t eat very much but spent a great deal of time moving the food around her plate. She was trying desperately to appear calm. There were several other people in the dining room, and Elizabeth felt like every one of them knew why she was there.

  She wondered if the gentleman was seated somewhere in the dining room observing her. He did have that advantage over her: he had seen her; she had not seen him. She prolonged dinner as long as she could, even indulging in a second glass of wine, which she normally did not do. When she felt she could delay no longer, she rose and climbed the stairs to her room. She turned the key and opened the door.

  A small gasp escaped her lips as the sight of a gentleman seated before her took her quite by surprise. The key fell from her hand to the floor.

  “I am sorry to have startled you,” he said as he immediately rose from his chair.

  Elizabeth recognized his voice at once as the voice from behind the screen. She had tried to picture the face that went with that voice many times over the last fortnight, her only reference being that of a gossiping woman declaring that he must be most abhorrent.

  The woman had been quite mistaken.

  He walked towards her and bent down to pick up the fallen key.

  “For propriety sake I thought it best to await your arrival in here than to be seen in your company downstairs.”

  Elizabeth nodded as he handed her the key, a small shock accompanying his touch.

  There was an awkward silence. She looked around the room and noticed that there were no candles lit, but the fireplace was aflame as had been promised. It was the only light in the room, and it gave off a warm, golden glow.

  “Was your journey without incident?” he inquired as he took a step back to increase the distance between them.

  “Yes, though much longer than I had anticipated,” replied Elizabeth, grateful that her voice had not failed her.

  “And your accommodations, do you find them suitable?”

  “They are most comfortable, sir.”

  Again there was an awkward silence. Elizabeth looked up at him as if to ask for some direction. She could discern that he was as uncomfortable as she.

  He cleared his throat. “I must take no chances of us being seen together. My reputation and the honour of others are at stake. We must be as discreet as possible.”

  Elizabeth sat down, suspecting that her trembling legs were losing their capacity to support her weight. The gentleman produced a bottle of brandy and poured himself a glass, then took a rather large swallow. He took a seat across from her but did not attempt to meet her eyes.

  “We will not acknowledge each other beyond the confines of this room. I will meet with you here for three evenings.”

  “Is . . . this to be one of the evenings?” asked Elizabeth.

  “Yes,” he said. “If you need some time to prepare, I could return later.”

  “That will not be necessary, sir,” said Elizabeth as she endeavoured to sound as business-like as he. “I see no need to delay. I am prepared to begin now.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. The look in his eyes as he gazed upon her did not lessen her anxiety. He then rose and poured more brandy into his glass. She gave a thought to requesting some for herself, as her nerves could certainly use some calming. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and stood. She then walked purposefully towards the dressing chamber. She returned a few minutes later, wearing only her chemise.

  As he looked upon her, he could not help but notice that the light from the fire was revealing her naked form through the sheerness of her gown. He could feel his body’s reaction to the sight of her. Even though their mutual unease was apparent, along with his uneasiness, he was surprised to discover a certain amount of excited anticipation.

  She looked down at herself and smoothed her hands over her chemise. “I . . . I would prefer to keep….” She took a deep unsteady breath. “Is this acceptable?” she asked as she met his gaze.

  Afraid his voice would betray him, he simply nodded.

  Elizabeth slipped into the bed and pulled the covers up to her neck. She did not look at him as he silently undressed, but turned her head to stare at the fire. She then felt his weight upon the mattress as he moved in beside her.

  He slowly took the covers from beneath her chin to expose her neckline. He looked for some reaction from her and, seeing that she voiced no objections, continued drawing the covers down until they were completely free of her body. Elizabeth’s heart was beating so loudly, she was sure he could hear it.

  She looked into his eyes for fear of looking at any other part of his anatomy. He was lying on his side next to her. He reached down to the hem of her gown and slowly brought it upwards, never taking his eyes from hers.

  He wanted desperately to say something that might help relieve the awkwardness of such a situation but could think of nothing. He was there to accomplish a task, and his body was telling him to proceed. He moved his knee between her thighs.

  Petrified as she was, Elizabeth was also fascinated as each movement he made progressed them towards their prearranged conclusion. She watched with an almost voyeuristic fascination as he positioned his body over hers. When he leaned over her, she unconsciously reached up to brush a lock of his dark brown hair from his forehead.

  From the moment he had discerned her supple body through her translucent gown, he had felt his arousal build. He guided himself to the opening of her core and slowly entered her. Elizabeth’s body stiffened. He started tentatively, leaning into her a little further each time as he gathered momentum. His pace increasing, his thrusts became more forceful. To his surprise, he was met with some resistance, and, in that split second, he realized that she was an innocent. However, that realization came just as he felt the barrier between them break, and he was immediately buried deep inside her.

  Elizabeth inhaled sharply as the pain invaded her body, her hands clutching the bed cloth on either side of her. He looked down at her, afraid to move, and witnessed a single tear roll down her cheek as she looked away.

  He was now completely surrounded by her tightness, and, although he knew he should be concerned for the pain he had just inflicted upon her, his body could not help but respond to the moment. Their eyes met as he again began to move inside her, pleasure taking higher precedence over any guilt he may have been feeling. His rhythm again building, his self-imposed abstinence combined with the enticing uniqueness of their situation soon brought about his uncontrollable release, as he did his best to suppress the deep guttural moan that accompanied it.

  It took several moments for his breathing to return to normal. He rolled away from her and lay on his back, his arm covering his eyes. They did not speak. They did not look at each other. The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire. After another minute of silence, he rose from the bed, dressed, and left her room.

  ~*~

  Darcy quickly and quietly made his way down the corridor to his own chamber. He fumbled for the key and, after several attempts, finally got the door open. He immediately poured himself a brandy. He paced the room for several minutes. He looked down at his glass and, noting it was again empty, refilled it. So many different emotions were fighting each other to take over his mind. Once again, his intentions couldn’t have been simpler. Once again, he discovered that nothing was ever simple.

  Darcy had obtained the services of an elderly attorney by the name of Mr. Gallagher. He thought it best not to use his regular attorney for such matters, certain he would advise against such a scheme. With Mrs. Reynolds’s reluctant assistance, he had discreetly arranged for five ladies
to be escorted to a rented estate. He had devised it so that he would be present in the room to observe each lady, but would keep his presence unknown.

  The first two days produced ladies of somewhat questionable character. The lady on the first day was rather vulgar and appeared to be well past her child bearing years. The lady on the second day appeared to be already with child.

  On the third day he saw her. At first glance, he had thought her rather pretty. When Mrs. Reynolds had asked her to stand, she turned her head slightly and stared directly into his eyes as if she could see him. As he had stared back into those fine eyes, he conceded an attraction. When she had almost defiantly requested that the gentleman speak to her himself, he knew there would be no need for further interviews. She was the one.

  Upon her departure that day, he had discovered the bonnet she left behind. He immediately had picked it up. He had recognized the sweet aroma of lavender, the same sweet aroma that he had inhaled as he lay over her only minutes ago.

  Over the past two weeks, he had tried to imagine what misfortune had led her to make such a desperate decision. If he were honest with himself, he would have to admit he had imagined her in many ways since he first saw her. She had invaded his dreams regularly. He had reasoned he could not control his dreams, and what harm did they bring to anyone but himself? Certainly duty and propriety could at least allow him that small concession.

  Though he allowed himself to indulge in such dreams, he knew it best to banish all thoughts of her from his mind. He need not worry about his heart. In his nine and twenty years, no woman had ever gained entrance there, that likelihood being even less so for a woman who would enter into such an agreement as theirs.

  As in any business endeavour, it would be ill advised to display any emotion. To ensure that end, upon his departure to Scotland, he had made his list of mental notes: he would remain as detached as possible; he would not engage his emotions; he would conduct himself in a business-like manner; he would walk away in three days unaffected by anything that occurred. After all, he was paying her most handsomely for her services.