Chance Encounters

by Linda Wells

  Kathleen understood this woman’s desire to show no weakness and did not make notice of her emotion. “Well Richard and I are delighted to have you here. We expect that his parents will arrive in time for the birth. They plan to leave for Rosings directly from Pemberley after the wedding, although, if this child chooses to appear sooner, I will not protest!”

  “From what I remember of my experience, I understand your desire to see this process end.” Softening she nodded to her legs. “You will be pleased to see that you indeed will have feet again very quickly.”

  Kathleen smiled and laughed with surprise at her unexpected levity. “Thank you; I do harbour hopes of that!”

  Richard entered the room, smiling at hearing Kathleen’s laughter. “Aunt Catherine! Welcome!” He came and kissed the proffered fingers.

  “Where have you been, Nephew?” She demanded.

  He rolled his eyes at Kathleen. “I have been attending to estate affairs. Our harvest is underway.”

  She nodded her acceptance of his explanation. “And how is the harvest?”

  “Excellent. My steward, in fact, my entire family has taken me under their collective wing and has been of great help. I have learned a great deal this year.”

  She regarded him. “What think you of the Heir of Pemberley?”

  “We were delighted to hear of Wills’ birth. Georgiana and Darcy both wrote to us with the wonderful news. I hope that our child will have the opportunity to see his older cousin often.” He paused and smiled. “Of course, Elizabeth’s sister gave birth to a daughter recently, so I am not sure if a marriage has been arranged between those cousins yet. We may be too late to join Pemberley and Rosings, if we have a daughter, that is.”

  Kathleen closed her eyes at his humour. She knew that Richard could not resist jabbing his aunt.

  “You know Anne and Darcy would have been a brilliant match.” She huffed. “But, I have formed the opinion that arranged marriages are not always ideal. I hope that you keep that in mind, Fitzwilliam!”

  “Yes, Aunt Catherine, I hope that our child will follow his parents’ example.” He sat next to Kathleen and kissed her hand.

  She watched the tenderness and softened for a moment, then barked. “Humph. Well, show me to my room, Fitzwilliam!”

  “Of course.” He jumped to his feet and offering his arm to her and a grin to his wife, led the way upstairs.

  Six days later, Lady Catherine was indeed present in the room where she once gave birth, holding Kathleen’s hand while Charlotte wiped her brow. Richard paced outside of the room, endeavouring to ignore his wife’s cries by devising increasingly painful ways to dispatch Mr. Collins, who felt it was his duty to honour his patron and to stand by him at this most extraordinary time.

  Unable to bear the effusions of the obsequious man any longer, he strode to the bedroom door, pulled it open and stepped in. He stood in open-mouthed shock. He could feel Collins attempting to see past him, turned, casting a melting glare upon him, and slammed the door in his face.

  Lady Catherine looked up from her position and demanded, “What are you doing here, Fitzwilliam! This is no place for you! Be gone!”

  Richard took in the scene, Kathleen on the birthing chair, her head bent, eyes tightly shut, a block of wood clenched in her teeth. His aunt on one side, Charlotte on the other, the midwife crouched at her feet. His eyes searched the room for something to focus upon besides his wife’s contorted face, when a wrenching scream tore from her. “Katie?” He stuttered, and he did as any strong, confident, experienced soldier would, and promptly collapsed with a floor-shaking thud.

  Kathleen panted, the wood fallen from her mouth. “What was that?” She whispered in the reprieve between contractions.

  Lady Catherine raised a satisfied brow at her comatose nephew. “That my dear, is the weaker sex facing his truth.”

  “You have the right of that, my Lady.” The midwife nodded, casting a disgusted look at the fallen man.

  “Is. . . Is he . . . well?” Kathleen groaned out.

  “He is much better off than he was in my husband’s company, I think.” Charlotte said, looking at him sympathetically.

  Lady Catherine rolled her eyes. “I look forward to writing to Darcy of this.” Kathleen gripped her hand again. She gave her niece a motherly smile. “Come now, my dear, you are nearly there.”

  Kathleen’s labour was blessedly short, and within only four hours, she delivered a healthy, golden-haired girl, named Anne Kathleen Fitzwilliam. Her husband was revived upon hearing the energetic cries of his daughter and was so delighted he kissed his aunt and swung Charlotte around in a joyful spin. Soon enough he settled next to Kathleen on the bed to delight in his new family. Lady Catherine sent an express to Darcy with the news of the birth and his cousin’s reaction. He would never hear the end of it.

  ELIZABETH WATCHED, her heart swelling, as William tenderly kissed Wills and lay him down for the night. It was a ritual they began spontaneously on his third day of life. Elizabeth would sit in the rocker, feeding him, singing and cooing, while his eyes slowly drifted closed. Darcy would rise from his seat; and lifting him from her arms, hold his son to his face, murmur some secret, kiss, and place him safely to sleep. This night when William turned back, she held out her hand to him and smiled. “Come.” She said softly.

  “Lizzy?” He was unsure of her intentions. It was not quite six weeks since the birth, and she had said . . . he saw the familiar, deeply missed, look of welcome in her eyes and drew a quick breath.

  “Come.” She repeated, and led him from the nursery and through her bedchamber, back to his, where they had not slept since Wills’ arrival. He closed the door behind him and watched, his heart pounding, as Elizabeth’s hair cascaded down around her shoulders with the slow removal of the pins. She looked nowhere but into his eyes, and her fingers began to unbutton her gown. Trembling, he stepped forward, touching her hand. “Are you sure, darling? I do not wish to harm you.” He was trying so hard to control his rapidly building desire, just in case he was misreading her actions, or she changed her mind, or . . .

  “Love me William, I need you.” She caressed his dear face.

  “Oh Lizzy, yes, I need you, too.” He pulled her to him and tangled one hand in her hair while the other held her body securely to his. He searched her face one last time for reassurance, then gratefully lowered his head and possessed those beautiful rosy lips with his own. His body screamed for him to ravage her, to strip off the unnecessary clothing, and throw her onto the bed, leap upon her warm, yielding body, and vigorously drive his aching, swollen manhood deep, deep inside of her until he roared with his rapture and she fell back in a molten lake of euphoric pleasure. He wanted to hear her beg him to satisfy her, he wanted her to crave his body, he wanted . . . oh God . . . he wanted to feel his gloriously beautiful wife cling to him and desire him as desperately as he needed her. He tore his lips from hers and looked into her half-closed eyes, and saw what she wanted. She wanted to be loved; he knew that expression so well. She wanted it to be slow, affectionate, and tender. This first time together, this first time when they could lie face to face in so very long, she wanted him to love her, not take her, the time for that sort of lovemaking would come another night, and he was more than willing to give her the pleasure she desired.

  They slowly undressed each other, taking their time. As each item fell away, their lips tasted the newly exposed skin, first her sweet shoulders, then his delicious neck, her swollen breasts and his taut, muscular chest. Their hands glided over their bodies, pushing aside the unwanted barriers until they stood naked, gazing at their lover, then embraced, tightly entwined, anticipating their reunion. “I have missed this, sweetheart.” He murmured in her hair.

  “So have I.” She said, and he felt some tears on his chest.

  He looked down. “Lizzy?”

  “Do I . . . does my body still please you?” She said in a quiet voice. “I know that I have changed, my hips are wider, and my stomach is not quite fl
at as yet, and my breasts are so swollen and they leak, and . . .” Her ramblings were halted by his lips. He was right, she needed to be loved and reassured. He scooped her up and lay her down in the bed and immediately lay on top of her; that was a feeling that they both craved.

  He kissed her softly. “My dearest Elizabeth, your body, your entire being pleases me. You are more beautiful now than you have ever been.” His hands caressed her sides. “Your hips are even more delightfully curved than ever, and have given me more to hold.” He ran his tongue from her lips, down her neck, between her breasts to her stomach, where he kissed and caressed her slightly rounded belly. “Your shape is lovely, and if it never becomes flat again, I do not care, because I know the gift that grew inside of you.” His mouth rose to her breasts where he licked and suckled the tender nipples, swallowing and revelling in the taste of his wife’s milk. “Your breasts have always been a favourite of mine my love; and you cannot possibly think that I would object to there being more of them for me to enjoy.” His mouth travelled to the other, suckling it and relieving the uncomfortable pressure. He moved back up and settled his weight back on top of her. Her arms encircled him while he held her face in his hands. He smiled into her worried eyes. “Have I convinced you, my Lizzy? Or do I need to do more?”

  “More.” She whispered.

  “As you wish.” His lips hovered over hers for a moment, then seeing the light of desire in her eyes, began kissing her deeply. Her response was as fervent as he hoped it would be, and soon they both were caressing each other, urging their bodies closer together. Elizabeth opened her legs and he fell naturally in between. Unable to wait longer, he rose to his knees and touched her, feeling the wetness. He plunged his fingers into her core, watching for any sign of discomfort, but instead saw her pleading eyes. He smiled and with no more hesitation, entered his Elizabeth, and made her his all over again. Her response was every bit as passionate as he dreamed. Their bodies slid and melded together. His thrusts, at first long and slow, gave in to the primal need to rise to the fevered vigour that a man craves. Elizabeth met his strokes and devoured his lips with kisses that reaffirmed the ardent, unending love that she held for her man. Their motion went on and on, building upon and exceeding the memories of every past encounter, when finally Darcy heard that longed for cry from his lover’s lips, begging him to give her everything he had, and with his cry of joyous release, he felt her body clasp his, and take his essence deep inside, as her ecstatic kisses covered his face in her own surrender.

  Panting he shakily pushed up from her. “Oh, Lizzy, I missed you so much!” He kissed her and rolled to his side, bringing her clinging form with him, and surrounded her with his tight embrace.

  She smiled and looked up at him. “I have wanted to do this for weeks.”

  “You have?” He ran his hands over her. “But you have been so tired and sore.”

  “Well, yes, of course, but all of those nights we spent loving each other with our lips and hands, I anticipated when we could once again be one body.” She hugged him. “As much as I adore your tender ministrations, my love, I needed to feel you inside of me again. I see that you agree?” She laughed at his vigorously nodding head and then grew serious, asking quietly, “Did it feel the same?”

  Darcy knew exactly to what she referred. “It felt better.” He stroked her face and kissed her.

  She looked up, searching his face, and finally relaxed, cuddling into his chest to hear his slowing heartbeat. “Yes, it did.” He chuckled and kissed her hair, and pulling the covers over them, settled down to a long night of needed rest. This night, the nurse would finally perform her duties.

  THE CARRIAGES BEGAN ARRIVING, carrying the guests for the wedding of Georgiana Darcy to Alex Carrington. First were the carriages from Matlock, bearing the Fitzwillams. Alex’s parents came next. Alex and Georgiana would be leaving immediately after the wedding to the cottage for their honeymoon. It was still warm enough to enjoy the beautiful scenery there before the weather changed. The Carringtons had many friends, but few relatives, and since this was a family affair only, Alex’s parents would be the only official members of his family to be present, at least with the exception of his Bennet family. Jane and Bingley’s carriage, followed by their Bennet houseguests’ carriage were the last to arrive. Kitty was in school, so Mary was the only sister to come with them. The reactions heard from that last arrival to Pemberley were just as excited and effusive as they were at Christmas, but they were all careful to restrain themselves in the presence of their host.

  When Mr. Bennet emerged from his carriage, he was greeted by Elizabeth, beaming, holding baby Wills in her arms. Darcy was standing next to her, proudly looking down at his son, his hand resting gently on his wife’s shoulder. He looked up when his in-laws approached. “Oh Lizzy! You have your son! Oh Mr. Darcy! How proud you must be! My Lizzy has fulfilled her duty and given you an heir! Oh my clever, clever girl!” She kissed her daughter’s cheek and stroked the soft baby face. Elizabeth blushed and looked down at the ground. It was William’s gentle voice that brought her back.

  “Yes, Mrs. Bennet, we are delighted to have our son, but I would have been overjoyed with any child. I hope with all my heart that our next is a daughter just like her Mama.” He looked into her eyes, full of love for her.

  Mr. Bennet took in the scene with great emotion. “I am delighted to meet my grandson at last.” He kissed Elizabeth’s cheek. “You look beautiful, my dear.” He turned to Darcy and addressed him formally. “Congratulations, Mr. Darcy.”

  Darcy held out his hand. “Thank you sir, please call me Darcy.”

  Mr. Bennet looked at him, trying to read his face, but Darcy displayed nothing but his usual solemn demeanour. He gratefully took the offered hand. “I would be honoured sir, and I hope you will call me Bennet.”

  Darcy nodded, and looked at Elizabeth. Her eyes were full of tears. They had all come such a long way.

  Later, after dinner when everyone was gathered together in the music room listening to Georgiana play, Mrs. Bennet sat staring at Alex. She tapped Mr. Bennet’s leg. “You know Thomas, I had forgotten, but I remember thinking the first time I saw Mr. Carrington that he resembled you in your youth. Do you not think so?”

  Mr. Bennet looked at her with surprise. “I thought the same thing, Fanny.”

  Elizabeth heard the conversation and squeezed William’s hand. He nodded and signalling Alex, he turned to Mr. Bennet. “Bennet, I wonder if you would care to join me in the library for a few minutes?”

  “You do not have to ask me to do that twice, sir! Please, lead the way!” The men rose, and Elizabeth, Alex and Mr. Carrington followed them.

  They arrived in the enormous room, and surprised, Mr. Bennet saw that they were not alone. “What is this?” He asked, first looking to Darcy then catching Elizabeth’s eye.

  She walked to him, and laid a hand on his arm. “Please sit down, Papa. We have something to tell you.”

  “All of you?” He asked, confused.

  “Yes, Bennet, this involves all of us to some degree.” Darcy looked to Alex. They had agreed that if at any point during their stay, someone recognized the resemblance between Mr. Bennet and Alex, the truth would finally be told. It was decided that Darcy would be the calm moderator of the discussion. “Sir, I believe you have recognized that you resemble Alex.”

  “Yes,” he said slowly.

  “Alex has given me permission to tell this story.” He looked to Elizabeth, and she rose and took his hand. “Alex is the adopted son of Philip and Amanda Carrington.”

  “Adopted?” He looked at Alex with surprise.

  “Yes sir.” He answered, and looked with pride at Philip.

  “Approximately nine and twenty years ago, a young chambermaid, a niece of the cook to the Carrington family came to her seeking help. She had been dismissed from her position with the Markham family when she was found to be with child by a gentleman friend of the Markham’s son. She came to her aunt to find employment.” A
t the sound of the name Markham, Mr. Bennet’s eyes opened wide. “The cook brought the situation to Amanda’s attention, who told her husband. They knew that after many years of trying, their hopes of having children of their own were impossible. They decided to take in this rejected child of a gentleman and raise him or her as their heir. Alex was the child born to the maid. Before the girl died in childbirth, she testified to the name of the baby’s father.” Everyone in the room looked at Mr. Bennet, who only had eyes for Alex.

  “You are my son?” He whispered.

  “Yes, sir.” Alex looked straight at him.

  The two stared at each other, while the room remained silent. “I knew that the maid was with child when I came to visit again. She claimed that it was mine, but I did not believe her. I thought that it was a ruse to try to extract funds from a convenient source. I had no way of knowing for sure. I wondered over the years, but I never tried to find out the truth. I never saw Markham again after graduation. My father died and I had to assume his duties. I no longer had time for the frivolities of youth. Soon I married Fanny, and we began our family.” He looked into Alex’s eyes. “You are my heir.”

  Alex shook his head. “No sir, I am not. I will not dishonour the man who rescued, raised and loved me.” He looked to Philip, who had tears of pride in his eyes. “I am the heir of Philip and Amanda Carrington.”

  Mr. Bennet closed his eyes, sadly acknowledging the truth. “You are, of course, correct. You have made the proper choice.” He looked at him, “I would like the opportunity to know you.”

  “As I would you, sir. I would like to know my blood history, so that I can tell it to my children.”

  “Thank you for that, sir.” He blinked back a tear, and felt Elizabeth’s hand in his. He looked at her. “How long have you known?”

  “William told me when we were at Rosings. Philip and Amanda realized who Jane and I were when we were at their ball, and asked to speak to William about it. They were concerned with Alex’s attraction to Jane.” She smiled at him, and he shook his head.