Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy

by Abigail Reynolds

Could he be speaking of the same Elizabeth she knew? Georgiana had seen Elizabeth in many moods but could not recall seeing her embarrassed.

  Elizabeth's reaction was even more curious as she turned to stare at her husband, her cheeks nearly scarlet. It seemed to take her a moment to find her voice then she said archly, "I was of the opinion that some gentlemen appreciate a lady's blushes."

  He appeared amused. "I can think of little I appreciate more."

  Georgiana hoped this new tendency of Fitzwilliam's to speak in riddles would not last long.

  ***

  Elizabeth studied her reflection in the mirror as Lucy put the finishing touches on her hair for dinner. What did Darcy think when he looked at her? Apparently, she was still able to tempt him, but how much did he find to admire beyond her appearance? He had gone to some effort to seek her out earlier to discuss her family, and he had clearly enjoyed teasing her earlier. And he had embraced her under the tree when there had been no need for it. He was not indifferent to her, and apparently, he was willing to make an attempt to improve their marriage. That was enough for now. She had all the time in the world to prove her worth to him, now that he was comfortable with his prerogatives as her husband again. She practised a welcoming smile.

  Their earlier misunderstanding had shaken her confidence. When Darcy first suggested that she had not told him of her plans, she had taken it as an attempt to save face in front of his friend by denying the truth. It was a severe blow; the man she believed him to be would not lie. The disappointment she had felt when she thought her faith in him misplaced had been excruciating. Thank heavens he had an explanation, and one which made sense when she reviewed the behaviour she had observed over the year she had known him. Was it only a year? She could no longer imagine her life without him.

  A knock startled her from her reverie. Elizabeth watched in the mirror as Lucy opened the door a crack to see who was there then held it open to reveal her husband. Her heart raced at the sight of him.

  Lucy curtsied and disappeared. Elizabeth turned in her chair with a smile, noting that his eyes were travelling down her body. At least this time she knew what he was thinking.

  He wandered over to stand beside her at her dressing table. He picked up a small bottle of cut glass and seemed to examine it in the light from the window. "I suspect Bingley will ask me tonight what you told your family in your letter."

  She smiled at the question he was so studiously avoiding. "I told them I had misunderstood the situation but that you had informed me you saw no impediment to further contact."

  He gently placed the bottle back on the table. "I hope they will be happy to receive it."

  "I am sure they will be, just as I am happy to send it."

  "I am glad to hear it." He laid his fingers against her neck just where it met her shoulders and trailed them lightly along her skin. "I want you to be happy."

  Her breath caught in her throat at his touch. "And embarrassed?"

  He gave a quick, devastating smile as his fingertips caressed the sensitive skin along the neckline of her dress. "Preferably. Though I ought not to have said that earlier."

  "It did not trouble me, beyond a moment of shock. But as we know, you enjoy shocking me." Elizabeth struggled to keep her voice steady, though she felt as if she were melting in response to his exploring hand.

  His fingers found their way under her chin, tipping it up so she looked straight at him. "True, but not usually among company." He leaned down until finally their lips touched. The taste of his kiss was sweet, but nothing could warm her more than the knowledge that he wanted to be close to her. All too soon he straightened, leaving her yearning for more. "Damned dinner," he said. "I suppose we must join the others."

  Elizabeth stood and linked her hand through his arm. "I suppose we must." She looked up at him through her lashes. "Shall I expect you later then?"

  His eyes darkened. "Will you come to me instead? I will not turn you away this time."

  She felt a flush of heat move through her. "If you wish."

  "And Elizabeth…"

  She cocked her head and looked up at him archly. "Yes?"

  "Do not plan to linger too long with our guest." His intent gaze could have kindled flames. "I have other plans for you."

  Chapter 18

  DARCY AND ELIZABETH BADE farewell to Mr. Bingley the following morning, having extracted from him a promise to stop at Pemberley on his return journey from Scarborough. Afterwards, Darcy announced his intention to attend to some correspondence. Elizabeth had prepared herself for the likelihood that once again he would not express an interest in her company and so was able to manage a pleasant smile as if it did not trouble her to be separated from him after sleeping in his arms.

  The night had been a repeat of the one before, but she had been more able to enjoy sharing herself with the man she loved, even if no words of love were spoken. It was a shock to be reminded that he had no interest in resuming the part of the loving bridegroom that he had played in the early days of their marriage. It was enough to make her sadness of the past month begin to reassert itself, and she found it difficult to maintain a cheerful appearance with Georgiana. She was relieved when she could finally plead the necessity of making her tenant visits.

  She felt easier when alone, or rather accompanied only by Fry, the footman, since there was no need to converse with him. Her riding no longer occupied all her attention, and instead, she could remember how her husband had looked at her the previous evening as if she were the only important thing in his world. Even though it only happened when they were in their private rooms, she still valued it and hoped it gave promise for the future.

  When she arrived at the Smithson cottage, she found several women with worried faces gathered there. Concerned, she asked Mrs. Smithson if anything was the matter.

  The older woman said, "It's Mary Tanner, madam. We just got word. Her baby is coming early, and her husband says he won't have the midwife in his house."

  Elizabeth frowned. "He says that, does he?" Weeks of help less anger over Mr. Tanner's treatment of his family made her temper flare. "I will go myself." She hated to think of any woman being alone at such a time.

  "Bless you, Mrs. Darcy," one of the women said.

  "Is Mr. Tanner there?" Elizabeth asked. She had a few things to say to him if he was.

  "He's at the tavern, like always, madam. But he said he'd kill anyone who went in there." Mrs. Smithson exchanged glances with the other women.

  Elizabeth lost no time in reaching the Tanner cottage. She dismissed Fry outside with a request for some assistance from Pemberley. She had no idea how long this might last—hours perhaps, or at least until Darcy discovered where she was. Calling on tenants was one thing, but the mistress of Pemberley assisting a woman in labour might not meet with his approval. It would not be her first time; she had been present at her youngest cousin's birth and had once assisted the midwife in caring for a farmer's wife at Longbourn. She pushed aside a tinge of concern over Darcy's reaction. Surely he would understand she could not leave the poor woman to the care of her young children.

  An agonised scream issued from the cottage. Elizabeth hurried inside and paused until her eyes adjusted to the dimness. The fireplace contained nothing but dead ashes. Mrs. Tanner lay in the bed, her young daughter Maggie kneeling by her side. Elizabeth hurried to her bedside, but the woman's eyes did not open to acknowledge her presence, even when she spoke her name. Frightened, she laid her hand on Mrs. Tanner's chest to ascertain that she still breathed.

  The girl said, "She goes to sleep between her pains."

  More likely losing consciousness, given the amount of blood on the bedding. Elizabeth's palms grew damp. Nothing in her experience had prepared her for a birth where the mother was in such straits. She was tempted to insist on the midwife's presence, but she could not protect the woman from Mr. Tanner's wrath later. If the midwife had thought it feasible, she would have been there already.

  A new pain roused Mrs.
Tanner from her stupor. Elizabeth stepped closer and said, "How can I help you?"

  The woman shook her head weakly. No doubt she knew there was little Elizabeth could offer beyond her presence. It was her fourth confinement, and she could not fail to know the danger she was in. Still, Elizabeth encouraged her to make her best effort at pushing as each pain came, despite her fear. Each time her body went limp, Elizabeth could do nothing but pray that someone would arrive from Pemberley House who would know what to do. But until then, she was on her own with a frightened little girl. Finally, she was rewarded with the welcome sight of the baby's head crowning.

  Elizabeth readied the tattered fabric which was to serve as swaddling and sent Maggie out to tell the women waiting with Mrs. Smithson that the birth was imminent. She would have to give the infant to one of them and hope they could find a wet nurse. It would be weeks before Mrs. Tanner could care for the child, even if she survived the remainder of this ordeal. In any case, she did not want Maggie to be there if there was trouble with the birth.

  While assisting at a birth was not new to her, delivering a baby was a different matter. Mrs. Tanner no doubt had a better idea of it than Elizabeth, but she could not be relied upon for direction. She could only do her best and hope nature would handle most of it. She took up her station beside the bed, next to an old knife and the dirty piece of string Maggie had brought her.

  Just then Sylvia, the girl who now worked at Pemberley, raced in, her hands filled with cloth. "Old Sarah is on her way, madam," she said breathlessly. She looked as if she had run the entire way from the house.

  "Very good. Can you help me here? The babe is coming."

  The birth itself went quickly once the baby's head was revealed. Elizabeth shifted the emerging child to release the shoulders as she remembered the Longbourn midwife doing, and the baby's body slid into her waiting hands. A girl, but tiny, her colour poor. She had not expected the infant to be quite so slippery and was glad for the straw mattress. Elizabeth chafed the baby's chest until she saw the movement of air in and out then tied off the cord.

  "You have a daughter," she said. Mrs. Tanner mumbled something in reply. Elizabeth finished cutting the cord while Sylvia swaddled the baby then wiped her hands on the rags, trying to clean the blood from them.

  Old Sarah from the kitchens arrived then, taking command with an ease that showed her no stranger to childbirth, engaging Sylvia in helping to deliver the afterbirth. Elizabeth, feeling suddenly superfluous, picked up the baby and held her to her chest, trying to warm her. The poor thing still hadn't made a cry, though Elizabeth could hear her breathing with odd little grunts. She looked down at the infant and was taken by surprise at the tenderness she felt for this new life. A tiny hand emerged from the swaddling. Elizabeth tried to tuck it back in, only to find her finger gripped by impossibly tiny ones. Blue eyes stared up at her from a mucus-streaked face.

  She gently pried her finger free then took up a small scrap of cloth and dipped it in a basin of water. She found a stool by the window to sit upon as she washed the baby's face. The tiny mouth screwed up and let forth a mewing sound at the first touch of the cool water. Elizabeth rocked her back and forth in hopes of soothing her. "Hush, sweetheart," she said.

  Maggie, who had crept in after Old Sarah's arrival, scru tinised her sister's face. "Mama said if it was a girl she'd be named for you, Mrs. Darcy."

  Old Sarah was massaging Mrs. Tanner's stomach. "The bleeding's stopped at least. Mrs. Darcy, perhaps you should take the baby outside. Sylvia and I can finish up here."

  Elizabeth came back from her fascination with the infant to remember her circumstances. If even the scullery maid realised the mistress of Pemberley had no business here, she ought to depart, but she felt oddly reluctant to leave Mrs. Tanner and especially to turn the baby over to someone else's care.

  As she hesitated, the door to the cottage slammed open to reveal a stocky man, his clothing unkempt and his gait unsteady. Elizabeth rose to her feet. "Mr. Tanner, I presume. You have a daughter."

  He scowled, and Elizabeth stepped backwards to allow him to approach his wife. "Another damned girl. I told you, no more girls!" Mrs. Tanner's eyes fluttered open, filled with fear.

  "Your wife is quite ill," Elizabeth said tartly.

  "I won't raise no more girls. Lazy sluts, all of them. Give me that thing." He reached for the baby in Elizabeth's arms.

  She held the infant tightly to her chest. She had no inten tion of allowing that drunken oaf to harm the child, father or not. "There is no need for you to be concerned about her. I will make arrangements for her to be taken in by another family until your wife is well enough to care for her."

  He grabbed Elizabeth's arm and held it in a punishing grip. "Give her to me!"

  Elizabeth recoiled from the odour of alcohol and unwashed flesh. "Take your hands off me immediately! Do you know who I am?"

  "This is my house!" The shadows from the window fell across Mr. Tanner's enraged face as he raised his free hand. Elizabeth heard Sylvia scream, then the door burst open to reveal two of the Pemberley footmen. But they were not quick enough to stop Mr. Tanner's hand from descending in a blow to the side of Elizabeth's face.

  Through the burning pain and the ringing in her head, Elizabeth's only thought was to keep hold of the baby. She staggered backwards, her arms tightening around her burden. She barely registered the sight of the footmen tackling Mr. Tanner.

  Sylvia hurried to her side. "Mrs. Darcy, are you hurt?"

  Elizabeth's vision was beginning to clear. It would look foolish to deny the injury. "It is nothing a little time will not remedy."

  "Here, you must sit down." Sylvia took her arm and guided her to a chair.

  Elizabeth took a few deep breaths and looked down at the baby. The poor thing could understand nothing of what had transpired. Near the open door Fry and Edwards had none too gently subdued the still struggling Mr. Tanner.

  A shadow appeared in the doorway as Darcy strode in, his countenance severe. Fry, apparently failing to notice his master's presence, raised his foot and delivered a sharp kick to Mr. Tanner's leg.

  Darcy frowned at him. "We will have none of that, Fry."

  "But, sir, he struck Mrs. Darcy." Fry's tone suggested he felt the kick was richly deserved.

  Seeing the anger and disbelief on her husband's face, Elizabeth said hurriedly, "I am quite well." She turned her face, hoping the dimness would disguise any sign of the injury.

  Darcy stepped in front of Mr. Tanner and glared at him, looking as if he could barely restrain his own hands. "You struck my wife," he said with savage intensity.

  "Mr. Darcy, it were an accident, like." His speech was slurred.

  The expression on the servants' faces must have told him it was no accident. Darcy turned to Fry. "I withdraw my objection. Take him away and lock him up."

  Fry twisted Tanner's arm behind him until he yelped in pain then dragged him towards the doorway. "You heard Mr. Darcy. Go!"

  Sylvia cast a timid glance at Mr. Darcy, then silently took the infant from Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth's arms felt surprisingly empty without the baby's weight in them. She winced inwardly at the angry look in Darcy's eyes and turned to Old Sarah to ask what might be needed for Mrs. Tanner's further care.

  "Aye, just tell Mrs. Reynolds and she'll know what's needed." Old Sarah gathered up the bloody rags and dropped them in a bucket of water.

  Behind her, Sylvia made a sharp noise. Elizabeth turned to see her look of dismay as Sylvia carefully loosened the swaddling over the baby's scalp and laid the cloth across her face.

  Darcy was forgotten completely as Elizabeth hurried to her side. Sylvia shook her head silently. Elizabeth reached for a corner of the cloth and lifted it a few inches. The eyes that had looked at her before were staring emptily now, the pale skin turned to a sickly shade of blue. Hot tears formed in the corner of Elizabeth's eyes, and she touched the baby's cheek, then ran her finger over the little hand that lay limp now. Reluctantly
, she replaced the cloth over the tiny face. "I am so very sorry." She was not certain to whom she was speaking; Mrs. Tanner was not conscious enough to know what had occurred.

  "Come, Elizabeth. Let us return to the house." Darcy's expression was stern.

  With a reluctant glance back at Mrs. Tanner, Elizabeth followed him outside. The day seemed surprisingly bright after the shadows of the cottage. Pandora was still tethered to the tree where Elizabeth had left her a lifetime ago, and by her side stood Hurricane, wearing bit and bridle but no saddle.

  Elizabeth stopped short and turned to her husband in disbe lief. "You rode that horse bareback?"

  "I wanted to reach you quickly. Saddling takes time, and I have ridden without a saddle many times."

  It was too much, on top of all the fears of the past hours, of watching life given and then snatched away. Tears in her eyes, Elizabeth said fiercely, "I hate that horse. I hate it that you still ride him. I hate him."