by J Dawn King
He could not leave her there. Standing, he gazed at his wife’s form. Darcy had recognized her figure as being light and pleasing early in their acquaintance. What he noted now was how perfect she was for him. Taller than most females, the top of her head would rest on his shoulder should he take her into his embrace. Her braid reached below her waist. Her feet were small with the nails trimmed and clean.
“Enough!” he said to himself. She did not want him. The breath went out of him at the memory of her harsh opinions after their wedding.
Lifting Elizabeth, he might have held her close longer than he should have before moving her to her room. Losing his famed self-control, he could not resist placing his lips on her brow.
“Will...” she breathed the word.
That one word stopped him cold. Would she say more such as ‘will you do this, or will you do that’? When she sighed and snuggled her nose into his neck as little Jem had done to her earlier, he knew with certainty it was his name she uttered.
Grinning like a fool, he entered her chambers. It was a small victory toward having her look upon him as the man he was inside. Laying her gently on the bed, he pulled up the bedclothes, tucking them under her chin.
In the candlelight, the shadows under her eyes deepened. Despite her exhaustion, she had not once complained of her weariness or the task of caring for an infant with all the smells and problems a baby caused. Would any other lady of his acquaintance have done the same? Not at all!
Elizabeth was a marvel. He admired her. In fact, he admired her very much. So much so that he finally had to give a name to the affliction affecting his heart. He was in love with Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy.
Chapter 7
Lady Catherine de Bourgh looked over her domain from the upper floor window at Rosings Park, satisfied that all was well under her command. Her brother had failed to manage his property and sons to her standards. She would need to step in and choose a wife for Darcy, someone elevated but not too high. Someone malleable who could be worked on to influence Darcy to the Fitzwilliam point of view. The girl would need to appreciate who was her superior.
Unless...no, it was too much to consider.
Lady Catherine had no compunction in doing whatever was needed to gain her way. With that said, loyalty to the Fitzwilliam family had been bred into her from her infancy. With Anne Darcy being her only sister, Fitzwilliam Darcy was half Fitzwilliam. She would not...could not harm her family, could she? Georgiana Darcy was far more malleable than her brother. Should, for some reason, the girl inherit Pemberley then...
Drat! With the death of Richard’s wife, that spineless Anne, her own position as queen of Rosings would come to an end. While there was no entail on the estate, Lewis de Bourgh’s final wishes were written in stone. Lady Catherine could remain only so long as Anne de Bourgh Fitzwilliam was alive. Should the girl have a son, Rosings Park would eventually become his despite the mother being illegitimate. Blast! Without Anne or her son, her husband’s title and estate would go to a distant de Bourgh relative six months after Anne’s and the baby’s death. The clock that was ticking away the time she could legally remain at Rosings had begun.
She cursed stupid Lewis de Bourgh for his foolish decisions in not giving Lady Catherine her due. He had shown no respect for his wife’s inherent wisdom and capabilities to run his estate after his death. She cursed him for providing for the daughter of that Smythe woman. For his willingness to give all of his wealth and property to the son of that girl instead of his wife was an insult Lady Catherine would never forgive. Nor, would she forget! Foolish, foolish man!
Spying quick movement coming down the lane, she recognized the clumsy gait of her parson, Mr. William Collins. If only Darcy was as easily influenced as he.
As soon as Mr. Collins entered the drawing room, she demanded, “Well?”
“I have done as you asked, Lady Catherine. My betrothed is Miss Charlotte Lucas of Lucas Lodge in Meryton. I return in three weeks, after the banns are read, to marry.”
“Miss Lucas? Who is she to you?” Before he could respond, she continued, “I believe you told me your cousins were Bennets from Longbourn. Why have you not attached yourself to one of those girls? What foolishness have you done?”
“Forgive me, Lady Catherine. I did offer for the second daughter, Miss Elizabeth. However, I was refused by both her and her father. In my estimation, they were looking for a better advantage as Miss Elizabeth accepted and married your own nephew, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, not an hour later.”
“What?” Lady Catherine could not have heard him correctly. Darcy would never attach himself to a lady not from the first circles. This was a vicious rumor she needed to nip in the bud.
“How dare you throw my nephew’s name in with that pile of rabble you call family in Hertfordshire. Slander! Vile defamation of the worst sort! You, a clergyman, should be ashamed at spreading this evil rumor.”
“But, Lady Catherine,” the man groveled, prostrating himself almost to the floor. “After being rejected, I left to walk in a little wilderness to the east side of the house. At my return, Mr. Darcy’s carriage was parked in front of the building. I watched as he walked with Miss Elizabeth and her parents to the chapel. A short while later, they, meaning Mr. Darcy and his new wife, left in his carriage, her luggage strapped to the back. I waited until the next morning to see what news Mrs. Bennet would report and how the neighbors would respond. They are truly married, your Ladyship. I remained six days more to settle my attachment to Miss Lucas. I have only just arrived. We...”
“Darcy married!” Lady Catherine fumed. “Why? How? What is the meaning of this?”
“My Lady, Mrs. Bennet crowed to all and sundry the blessings of having a rich son-in-law. The neighbors, including the mother of my betrothed, speculated that something compromising must have occurred the previous evening at the Netherfield ball to have forced Mr. Darcy’s hand. Although I was in attendance, I noticed nothing untoward between the two. Mr. Darcy danced with Miss Elizabeth and with no one else. He retired from the gathering early. She remained to enjoy the evening. However, I shall admit to witnessing unsavory conduct by the mother, the three youngest daughters, and even Mr. Bennet himself. I saw nothing else.”
“Compromised,” Lady Catherine huffed. Quickly dismissing the parson, she shouted for the servants to ready the carriage. Her return to London to strategize with her brother was vital. They needed to find out about this Elizabeth Bennet and put a stop to this marriage immediately.
Elizabeth stretched, pointed her toes and then wiggled them under the heavy quilts. Opening her eyes, she recalled where they were, a traveling inn close to Pemberley. Burrowing under the blankets, she hoped Abigail, Jem, and the maid had a restful night’s sleep. And, Mr. Darcy?
She huffed. Elizabeth remembered walking into the sitting room with the intention of solidifying their plans. She even remembered him pouring her tea. However, after that she remembered nothing at all.
An unknown maid entered with a tray loaded from end to end with sweet and savory items to eat. Quickly setting it on the table next to Elizabeth, she left the room only to return immediately with a bucket of hot coals.
Sitting up in the bed, resting her back on the headrest, Elizabeth pondered the man who was her husband.
She had expected him to argue her ‘suggestion’ to halt their travels. He had not. She had expected him to distance himself from the smelly carriage and the persons within. He had not. She had expected him to demand his rights as a husband. He had not.
Who was this man?
From the moment he had said his vows, it was as if someone had taken the bright light of the sun and switched it to moonlight, so opposite was his behavior and attitude. As far off as the sunrise to the sunset, she mused.
Elizabeth had to admit, there was much to admire about this new Mr. Darcy. His appearance had always attracted attention, even hers. Nevertheless, his personality, his character had been a prickly source of irritation. Since their marriage, she
had witnessed genuine kindness from him.
And, she could not forget the letter that had accompanied young Jem. Those plaintive words written by Colonel Fitzwilliam had pierced Mr. Darcy’s heart, as they had done hers.
He was not a stone-cold statue. He was not an arrogant bore. Instead, he was a living, breathing man with strong emotions and a willingness to act for what is right and just.
It was not her way to dwell on the negative aspects of a situation. Rather, she could, should she be so inclined, choose a new beginning for her marriage. While she could not forget the appalling actions of her husband for the first two months of their acquaintance nor his poor conduct with Mr. Wickham, she admitted she had flaws she herself had to contend with quite regularly. Thus, her most important discovery was that Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy was an imperfect man, despite the repeated claims of Miss Caroline Bingley.
Smiling to herself, Elizabeth was slightly amazed at being exactly where she was at that minute in time—married to Mr. Darcy. She was Mrs. Darcy. Elizabeth Rose Darcy, Mistress of Pemberley.
Chuckling at the change in her own attitude, Elizabeth threw back the blankets to ready for the day. She needed to check on Abigail and Jem. She needed to speak with Mr. Darcy. No, not Mr. Darcy. Will.
Darcy waited in the sitting room until he heard sounds of activity from Elizabeth’s chambers. Setting aside the latest circular paper available at the inn, he informed Parker it was time to pack up and leave.
Pemberley. Darcy could not wait to show Elizabeth and Jem their new home. Grinning at himself, he was pleased he was already thinking of the three of them as a family. He hoped it would not be long before Elizabeth felt the same.
When she appeared at the adjoining door with the babe in her arms, his joy increased greatly. Then, Mrs. Milford followed her into the room. There would be no private time. Business would be the order of the day.
Making sure the ladies were comfortable, Darcy reached for the infant. Certainly, he had held him at the end of each day’s travel. Yet, this would be the first time he could examine the babe closely in the clear light of day.
Jem’s eyes opened and stared at him, inspecting Darcy as closely as the man did Richard’s son. He was a handsome lad with a wisp of dark hair and dark eyes. His little nose was pert. His ears were well-formed, his eyebrows barely there. His chin was gently pointed with a slight dimple in the middle. His mouth was agape.
“I cannot believe I hold Richard and Anne’s son,” he murmured to himself. To Jem, he added softly, “Your mother would have loved you with her whole soul within a heartbeat of seeing you. Your father, why you would fit in his large hands as easily as you do mine, I believe. Richard can handle a sword with ease, swing an axe with the best of men, and hold the reins of a recalcitrant mount without wavering. But his hands would itch to hold you instead, young man.” Darcy moved him to his shoulder, no longer able to stare at that tiny face without his composure crumbling to dust. “I am honored to be responsible for your care, James Alexander. I promise with my whole heart to accept you as my own until your beloved father returns safely to you.”
He glanced up to see both women looking at him, their eyes pooled with tears.
Hollister McAdams ran his inn like a tight ship. Therefore, when his wife drew his attention to the large stack of correspondence long overdue for posting, the man was chagrined. For, the letters were not his to withhold. They were from guests who had stayed in their rooms during the past week.
The previous six days had been a nightmare from which he knew he would never completely recover. Minutes after a party had vacated the premises, news reached the innkeeper that his only son had been badly burned when his leather apron with the brass fastener caught on a hook which tripped him into the forge. McAdams had wanted his son to apprentice at the inn. Jacob McAdams was fascinated with the blacksmith tools instead. Mr. and Mrs. McAdams had left town immediately, forgetting everything they had left behind. They returned in mourning.
With him and his wife away from the inn, the barmaid cared for cleaning the rooms and the only groom from the stables who knew his numbers worked the rest of the establishment. Neither knew to post the outgoing letters.
Sorting through, the innkeeper noted that a full dozen were from the same hand. Tucked in between was a stack of notes more than enough to have sent each missive express. McAdams’ heart fell to the pit of his stomach. He recollected which gentleman had required his services. It was the tall man with two ladies and a baby.
With each addressee read, the sick feeling in McAdams’ stomach grew. Mr. Peter Shaw, Solicitor; The Times; The Observer; The London Courier and Evening Gazette; Hugh Fitzwilliam, Lord Matlock; Lady Catherine de Bourgh; Miss Georgiana Darcy; Mr. Dobbs, Darcy House; Mrs. Reynolds, Pemberley; Mr. Charles Bingley; Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.
This was a man whose correspondence was as important as a king’s. Arranging quickly for express riders, he sent the majority to London to be delivered that very day. One went to Rosings Park in Kent. The last to Netherfield Park in Hertfordshire.
McAdams could only pray the delay would not cause too much difficulty for the young gentleman. However, there was nothing else he could do but see it done and leave it behind. If he saw the man again, he would offer a sincere apology and a free meal at the inn. In the meantime, he calculated that it was better late than never for the letters to be delivered.
The two Darcy carriages arrived at Pemberley near noon of the sixth day since inheriting Jem, Mrs. Milford (now to be known as Mrs. Mansfield since Matlocks probably had heard Richard mention the major sometime over the past decade), and his marriage to Elizabeth.
“Mr. Darcy...”
“Will,” he interjected.
His wife smiled. “Will, I now comprehend fully why Miss Bingley praised your estate above all others. The house is an impressive sight and the grounds I can see from the carriage are lovely.”
He was pleased by her address and her comment. He loved Pemberley. It was home.
Looking up the staircase leading to the front entrance he saw his long-time retainers awaiting their approach. He had sent a note to the housekeeper stating their approximate day of arrival. They were late. Nonetheless, his staff was always well prepared.
Standing with his wife until Mrs. Mansfield and the baby attended them, the four entered Pemberley together. He had no doubt that explanations would be needed as he had never before returned from London with a baby. Georgiana and the staff would be curious. He had written to his sister about his marriage. Mrs. Mansfield and Jem’s circumstances would be explained as the three adults had earlier decided.
“Mrs. Darcy, welcome to Pemberley.” He was a happy man. Earlier that day, she unhesitatingly accepted his arm when offered. She had done the same as they left the carriage to enter his house. He felt a tight squeeze of her hand at his elbow. Leaning towards her, their shoulders touched. Did she feel the thrill shoot through her as he did?
“Mrs. Darcy?” Georgiana had been approaching him but stopped in her tracks. “You are married?”
His sister’s eyes were on the floor rather than on him. He was beyond surprised when Georgiana continued, “I did not know. Mightn’t you have at least informed Mrs. Reynolds. We could have been better prepared, Brother?”
What was happening? When he looked around, he saw the same confusion on everyone’s faces. He had posted his news of his changed circumstances at the first inn where they spent the night not too far north of Hertfordshire. Everything and everyone should have been ready.
Elizabeth looked at him with concern. Did she think he had not considered her important enough to share his good news? Heaven help him! He needed to gain control of the situation.
“Apparently, my letters did not reach you as I had arranged for them to be posted almost a se’nnight ago.” He rested his free hand where Elizabeth’s nestled at his arm. “Mrs. Darcy and I married from her home in Hertfordshire on Wednesday. We had attended a ball hosted by Mr. Bingley the evening b
efore. There I received news that a good friend, a man who had provided a critical service to me soon after I inherited had been lost at sea, leaving a desolate wife who had given birth to a son two weeks prior. I rushed back to London that night to bring them to Pemberley where they will remain as long as they need a home. Therefore, please welcome not only my wife, the former Miss Elizabeth Bennet, but the wife of my good friend along with my ward, Mrs. Abigail Mansfield and her son, James Alexander, or Jem.”
“Oh, I see.” Georgiana continued to avoid his gaze.
As soon as he finished, Mrs. Reynolds marshalled the staff to prepare the mistress’ chambers, the nursery, and a guest room in the family quarters.
Deciding to give them time to accomplish their tasks, rather than going upstairs to clean the dust from their garments, he led his sister and the others to the yellow drawing room. It was his favorite, for the views of the winter gardens were still prettily situated.
“Georgie, pray accept my apologies. I did arrange for an express to be sent to you and to Mrs. Reynolds. I have no idea why my letters did not arrive.” He had not seen her in almost nine weeks. She looked to have grown several inches. However, his main concern was not her physical self. Darcy had hoped she had been able to move beyond the emotional toll from her almost-elopement at Ramsgate. Georgiana’s heartbreak had been devastating.
“Do not be concerned, Brother. All will be ready in no time,” was her response. She glanced at him but still did not look at Elizabeth, Mrs. Mansfield, or the babe. “And, you are married, William. I suspected you had a romantic interest in Miss Elizabeth Bennet because you often spoke of her in your letters. To find you wed after your short acquaintance speaks of a relationship much closer than I had imagined.”
Darcy caught the quick glance and uplifted brow from Elizabeth. Yes, she would be surprised to know he had written about her to his sister. It was one more piece of evidence that she had no clue his affections were growing while in Hertfordshire. He had no doubt she would question him about it later.
