One Love - Two Hearts - Three Stories

by J Dawn King

  Darcy had thought his heart full to overflow before her request. His wife had wanted to name their first daughter, Victoria Anne, but Darcy had resisted. Yes, he had wanted to honor his beloved mother, Lady Anne Darcy. Yet, the love he felt for his dear wife was so strong and vibrant and alive that he could do nothing other than name Victoria for the woman she so closely resembled, Elizabeth.

  “This is quite a task you put before me, my wife.” His heart was in his throat as he looked at the baby’s face. “Will she be similar to Victoria or as different as you are from your sister, Jane? This we cannot know.” Darcy used the back of his fingers to softly stroke his daughter’s cheek. “I would think that Jane Anne Darcy would satisfy. Do you agree?”

  Elizabeth was delighted. Bingley and Jane’s first child was almost one year old. A son, Charles William Bingley. Theirs had been a long courtship and engagement allowing Mrs. Bennet to fuss over them. Mrs. Bennet was thrilled to arrange the wedding of her dreams and the couple tolerated her oversight and overabundant use of lace.

  Elizabeth’s mother and father had been disappointed that their first grandchild had not been an heir, so their attentions to Victoria Elizabeth were fleeting. It was not the same with Jane’s son, as neither grandparent could stay away. Both had much to say on the rearing of young Bingley, which did not bother the parents overmuch. This lack of attention secretly pleased Darcy as he never learned to respect an indifferent husband and father like Mr. Bennet. He never lost his gratitude, however, for the man’s quick agreement to their marriage. For that, Darcy found that he could forgive much.

  “It is a beautiful name, William, for our beautiful daughter.” Elizabeth knew with confidence how delighted her sister would be with the choice. The last letter they had received from Jane indicated that she might be increasing again. The Bingleys hoped for a girl this time. It was hoped she would be as angelic as her mother if a daughter was indeed born to the Bingleys. “Do you despair of having a son, dearest?”

  “I do not!” His reply was immediate. Pemberley was not entailed and could pass on to his eldest, whether it be a son or a daughter. The thought of his children growing to the age of majority made his heart hurt and he realized that was his true despair— knowing they would eventually become another man’s. “Elizabeth,” he hesitantly began, his deep baritone a soft whisper. “Let us not allow them to come out until they are five and twenty, or possibly thirty years of age. Their aunt seems in no hurry to rush to the altar like she did when she was fifteen. Let us keep them with us always.”

  Elizabeth chuckled. “Shall we build a high wall around Pemberley and surround it with a moat? Shall we hide our girls away and teach them that boys are a danger to them?”

  “Yes.” Fitzwilliam Darcy closed his eyes pulling his baby girl closer to his chest. He thought of the future of his family and wondered what it would be. How could he not with the future in his arms? “Yes, Elizabeth, let us do that very thing.”

  Elizabeth understood. A daughter has a special place in her father’s heart and her dear husband’s heart had room for all the girls that would be born to them. “Then let us do this one thing for them, William. Let us, for each child born, set aside enough for them to have a home, a solid future, that is not tied to whether or not they marry. Let us give each child, whether a son or a daughter, the gift of independence, the ability to choose their own path. Would this be agreeable to you, love?”

  The partnership with Richard and Elizabeth’s uncle Gardiner had flourished and the Darcy coffers were full. To do as Elizabeth suggested was within his ability. Darcy looked to his wife and became aware that whatever the future brought, they would face it with joy, together. He would do this for his children.

  “I love you, my wife.”

  “As I love you, my husband.”

  Pemberley – three years later

  It was exactly as Darcy feared. He woke up with such a dread for the day that he longed to stay in bed and pull the covers over his head. His little sister, Georgiana, was to marry. How had it happened that she was old enough to wed? Just yesterday she was taking her first steps. She should not be using those steps to walk down the aisle.

  “Fitzwilliam Darcy!” His wife did not understand the pain in his heart. She pulled the covers off him then pulled on his arm, trying to move his large body from their bed. “I know what you are about. We have much to do this day.”

  It was Elizabeth’s call to rise and ready himself for Georgiana’s wedding. Darcy knew that his wife did not understand his feelings. How could she? How could anyone?

  “If you do not ready yourself, husband, your eldest son will have to walk his aunt to meet her beloved. I believe young Will is unlikely to give her to another male unless a bribe from the kitchen is involved.”

  At that, Darcy had to chuckle. Their two-year-old son, William Daniel Darcy, put everything he could grasp into his mouth. At that age, his judgement was not good, so his parents and nurse learned to check there first if any item appeared missing. They worried he would be an improper role model for their youngest son, Alexander James Darcy. At six months of age, he followed his brother with his eyes as he rocked back and forth on his hands and knees, in position to crawl, yet not quite sure how to make forward motion.

  Darcy ran his hand through his hair and rose from the bed. He could tell from the angle the sun peeked through the window that it was early. Elizabeth had already informed him of all he needed to do on this morning. Putting on his robe, he crossed to the window and gazed out over the grounds of Pemberley. Servants were walking back and forth from the house to a large tent set in the rose garden. It was where the wedding breakfast would be held.

  Georgiana had waited until she reached her majority before she walked into his study and told him she had found the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with – the eldest son of the Duke and Duchess of Devondale, the Marquess of Simonton, Lord de Winter. As soon as the vows were said and the register signed, his sister would be a marchioness.

  Later that same day, the Marquess arrived to plead his suit. Certainly, he could support Georgiana and any children they may produce.

  That thought sent a shiver down Darcy’s spine. Georgiana and childbirth should not be in the same sentence! His mind flitted to Elizabeth’s confinements. It was through them he had learned the true strength of a woman. Elizabeth had horrified the doctor, surgeon, and midwife by asking for her husband to remain at her side. They railed against the couple, but Mrs. Darcy’s quiet will prevailed. Georgiana was in excellent health, but the thought of her having an adult relationship with a man was completely repugnant to an older brother, making the taste of bile come into his throat.

  Lord de Winter was a good man, though his arrogance and pride of his position had been an irritant to both Darcy and Richard. Richard wanted to trim the young man down to size with his sword, but Georgiana turned tear-filled eyes on her male relatives and that ended that.

  So, she would marry this day. Darcy sighed heavily. He could feel his wife’s presence behind him as she wrapped her arms around his waist. She knew Georgiana’s wedding would be a challenge for her husband and could only imagine how hard it would be when it was time for their eldest, Victoria, to marry. Possibly she should start storing up good brandy for the occasion. It appeared to have worked with Richard the night before.

  The men had been melancholy. Darcy and Richard had secluded themselves in the master’s study with a decanter and two glasses. However, after a short time, Richard remembered he needed to kiss his son and daughter goodnight. Though he promised to return quickly, he had volunteered to help bathe his eldest under the watchful eye of his mother and wife. Lady Matlock had taken one look at her grandson and fallen completely, irrevocably in love. When their daughter, Emmaline Abigail Fitzwilliam, joined her brother in the nursery one and a half years later, her life felt complete.

  Lady Matlock was sad that the man she had made this son with was still alienated from the family. Yet, she had no
regrets. Adriana Annesley was a wonderful wife for Richard. She understood her husband’s protective nature and never failed to comfort him or their son, Richard William, when either suffered harm. Adriana had assured Lady Matlock recently that the nightmares Richard suffered the years after the war were almost nonexistent. This was a relief to a mother’s heart.

  Elizabeth had noted Richard climbing the stairs to the nursery and knew her husband was alone. She entered the study, lifted the crystal glass from his hand, set it on the table, grasped his empty hand and pulled him upstairs to their room. There, she endeavored to ease him of his worry. It was to great effect.

  Elizabeth glanced around her husband at the activity on the lawn. All was progressing as it should be. Georgiana would be a beautiful bride and Elizabeth wanted nothing to mar the day.

  “William, dearest, you are not losing a sister. You are gaining a new brother.” It was a trite thing to say and Elizabeth knew it as soon as the words left her mouth.

  “Do you not think him above company, Elizabeth?”

  Elizabeth remembered back to her first impressions of Fitzwilliam Darcy. He was all that Darcy claimed Lord Christopher de Winter to be. It was something she and Georgiana had discussed at length. Both women had daily evidence of the power of love. When Darcy was at home with his family, he was a changed man. Gone was the stern, reticent man with a reputation of aloofness. In his place was a warm, affection gentleman with a ready smile. It was hoped that Georgiana’s love for her groom-to-be would have the same effect.

  “Ready yourself, husband.” The words were gentle but moved him to action. He turned and took his wife into his arms.

  “We shall stay thus the whole day, my Elizabeth.”

  “We shall, shall we?” The bed chamber door opened following a soft knock. Elizabeth knew without looking that their daughters would be coming inside. They were very excited to attend their first wedding. Aunt Georgiana had shown them her gown and both little girls had pretty new dresses of their own.

  “Papa, you must dress, for we are getting married today.” Victoria had a lisp from losing a tooth just the week before. She constantly worried the space with her tongue so that her younger sister laughed at the faces she made.

  “We are getting married today, Vicki?” He looked to his babies and smiled at their enthusiasm. They were all that was delightful.

  It was bittersweet – a hard day for a father/brother/guardian. Darcy ruffled the curls on his daughter’s heads and chuckled as Elizabeth shooed them out of the room to the waiting nursemaid. He huffed out a breath and became resolved.

  Darcy had a sister to give away. His mind flashed back to the day those many years ago that Elizabeth’s letter arrived telling him about Ramsgate. He recalled the lemon tarts and he remembered his nerves at Georgiana’s presentation and the first time he stood across from her at a ball. She had grown up. She was a woman now— ready to take a husband. If Georgiana’s life was half as blessed as his own, she would be the happiest of women. He could not ask for more.

  Darcy had no doubt that his parents would have appreciated the son he would gain from this wedding. Not for his position, but for the kind of man he was. His father would know what he was feeling, no doubt. That brought Darcy tremendous comfort.

  Darcy walked into his dressing room to his waiting valet. His sister was getting married today. What started as a small grin became a full-fledged smile. Married!

  The End!

  Ramsgate

  By

  J. Dawn King

  A Pride & Prejudice Collection

  Acknowledgements

  Being an indie publisher of Jane Austen fan fiction has been one of the best experiences of my life. Who knew that I would start a new career at 57 years of age? I sure did not.

  There is a large, supportive group of people that blog, post, and tweet from several Facebook groups that have been of tremendous encouragement to me. I thank all of you.

  My deepest gratitude also goes to Elizabeth Ann West, who took me from incapable to possible. And to my dear, sweet hubby – you are the one that truly knows what I go through to get my thoughts onto the printed page. I love you truly, madly, deeply.

  Most of all, I thank Jane Austen. Enough said!

  Dedication

  This book is affectionately dedicated to all of the readers and reviewers on the Jane Austen fan fiction forums. Keep reading!

  CHAPTER ONE

  July 7, 1811

  Storrs House

  Ramsgate

  Dearest William,

  I do hope this finds you well and that you are taking time to remove yourself from your study and enjoy the splendid outdoors of London. Please do not think that I, your beloved little sister, do not miss you and long for your company, however, I have met the most wonderful ladies to distract me. Brother, they are the Miss Bennets from Longbourn in Hertfordshire. They are tremendously unpretentious and are staying with their family in the large house next to mine. The two eldest sisters, in particular, are delightful company.

  Last evening, we enjoyed a late night picnic with blankets spread on the sand while the moon shimmered on the sea. It had been Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s idea. We were accompanied by her parents, her four sisters, her aunt and uncle, and their children so you see that we were a large party. Though the air was still warm, the sand was cool. Yes, brother, we took advantage of the night and slipped off our shoes to bury our toes into the damp sandy shore. I am pleased that you sent Sarah with me as maid. She complained not once about the mess on my feet and hems. How I wished you were here, William. I wonder if you would have joined in our play.

  Though you are now most likely thinking that all of my time is spent in such frivolous activity, I will apprise you that I am diligent with my studies and practice the pianoforte daily. Mrs. Younge accompanied me to dine at the Bennets’ home on Wednesday past and I was pressed, or rather encouraged, into playing a duet with Miss Elizabeth. She plays with such emotion and her singing is beautiful to hear. This has shocked you, I imagine, as you know my reluctance to exhibit in company. Nevertheless, it happened just as I have written. You may appeal to the whole of the Bennet and Gardiner families to corroborate my tale.

  I thank you for your letter I received only yesterday and am pleased that you are a conscientious correspondent. I shall leave this for tomorrow’s post.

  With every good wish, I am

  Your beloved sister,

  Miss Georgiana Darcy

  Fitzwilliam Darcy indeed sat behind his study desk as he read his sister’s missive. He chuckled at her salutation. Georgiana had had difficulty pronouncing his Christian name after losing her front teeth at about six years of age. When she spoke his name it sounded like she was saying Fish-William. Unfortunately for him, the name stuck until he became her guardian, whereupon he gratefully suggested that Georgiana shorten it to just William.

  Whatever could she mean by the “splendid outdoors of London”? Silly child! It was the first hint of irony that he had ever perceived in a letter from her, or might it have been sarcasm? The London air was stagnant and the smell was atrocious; only pressing business kept him from returning north to Pemberley. Georgiana knew his habits well.

  It had been a good decision to remove her from school and establish her outside of London for the summer. Even at the tender age of fifteen, Georgiana displayed the Darcy reticence that would only become harder to overcome with her increasing exposure to society. The private school for young ladies that she had attended had been filled with daughters of the peerage who gloried in their titles and their elevated stature in the aristocracy. It had been a challenge for Georgiana to find a friend and confidante.

  The Darcy family wealth and prominence made them targets for fortune hunters and peers who longed to improve their position, either financially or socially. It was distasteful to Darcy and could prove devastating to his young, sheltered sister. Finding out that a supposed friend was false was a bitter blow that Darcy had suffered repeatedly
at Cambridge, most particularly with the son of his father’s steward, George Wickham. Darcy learned to project a studied indifference to those he was unacquainted with and arrogant disdain to those outside of his sphere. There were few individuals that had earned and kept his confidence. Darcy wondered at the situation of the Bennet family, but trusted in the judgment of his sister’s companion, Mrs. Younge. He only hoped that they were not part of the nouveau riche, unless they presented themselves in the same manner as his friend, Charles Bingley, who also had a background in trade.

  Darcy sat back in his chair, the familiar leather creaking at the sudden change of position. He ran his left hand through his hair as he pondered the letter held in his right. Guardianship of his only surviving family member had been his responsibility since their father’s death five years past. Though he shared this obligation with his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, the lion’s share of decision-making had fallen on his shoulders. It was a burden that he bore with joy. The death of their mother soon after his sister’s birth resulted in their father falling into a pit of despair he never was able to climb out of. This had left Darcy as the only one to care for Georgiana. Yes, they had nursemaids to perform the necessities of tending a newborn, however, it took only one glance at the sweet, innocent baby with bright blue eyes and soft blonde curls for him to fall deeply in love, as only a twelve-year-old boy could do.