The Phantom of Pemberley

by Regina Jeffers

  Darcy edged closer. “And what would that be, Mrs. Darcy?”

  “I do not have a sweet tooth, my Husband.” She rose to her knees, and Elizabeth lightly rested her fingers on her stomach.“But your child certainly does.”

  Darcy’s smile disappeared, and a serious frown wrinkled his brow. Elizabeth watched-pure discontent testing her resolve. Darcy’s eyes rested on her fingers; he saw nothing but the way her hand cupped a very slight bulge below her waist. “Fitzwilliam?” she rasped, “did you hear me?”

  A nod of his head was all Darcy managed. His eyes remained on Elizabeth’s body—the rise of her stomach and the swell of her breasts. He slept beside her each night and had not noticed! “How is it possible?” he murmured.

  Elizabeth chuckled. “Surely you do not need for me to explain the mechanics of the act, my Husband.”

  Darcy snorted. “I meant…I should have realized.”

  Elizabeth giggled. “This is surreal, Fitzwilliam. I assumed that you would be more demonstrative.”

  Her words broke the spell. Darcy stepped to the bed and smothered her with kisses. “Elizabeth, how long?” He held her gaze with his.

  “Six months.”

  His hand palmed the swell of her stomach. “Our child.” He planted a tender kiss where his hand caressed her. “When may I tell the others?”

  “Under the circumstances, with death in the house, it seems incongruous to mention life,” she cautioned.

  “Yet even with death all around, life goes on.That is the beauty of it—of God’s greatest gift to man. Our child, Elizabeth. I am nine and twenty and am a wealthy man at last. Pemberley could fall down around my head, and I would still know happiness, for I will have you and our child.”

  “Am I to be the only one to undress tonight?” she taunted.

  Darcy’s smile grew by the second.“I believe I might acquiesce.” He loosened his cravat and tossed it on the floor. “Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?”

  Elizabeth corrected, “Mrs. Bingley is the beautiful one in my family.”

  “I beg to differ, Mrs. Darcy. From the moment I saw you, I could not withdraw my eyes from the classic beauty of your face. You possessed me.” He kissed Elizabeth’s temples, her lips, her cheeks, and the corners of her mouth. “You are the breath—the wind—the sun—my everything.” He claimed her mouth and let love consume him. Darcy thought of nothing but his wife and the life she brought to his home. “Holding you in my arms is more exquisite than holding the sky and the stars,” he whispered as he loosened the cords holding back the bed’s drapery.

  James watched from the raised dais behind the fireplace. The sight of Fitzwilliam Darcy making love to his wife—the delectable former Elizabeth Bennet—sickened him. He had once thought it possible that he, too, might know such happiness—a living—a chance to make his name mean something—a wife who would look at him the way Elizabeth Darcy did her husband. As much as James had tried, none of those hopes had come to fruition.With his every loss, Fitzwilliam Darcy gained. Now, the man was to have his heir— an heir for the great estate of Pemberley. The Darcy legacy would continue, written in the annals of British history, while his legacy floundered like a fish on dry land. What did he have to show for all his efforts: a rented room, a trade he despised, and a simpering woman clinging to his every move. And all of it was Fitzwilliam Darcy’s fault. Every failure came from Darcy. He had not come to Derbyshire to exact a revenge on Darcy, but James would take pleasure in extinguishing Darcy’s dreams. When he left Pemberley, he would take Elizabeth Darcy and the man’s heir with him. He would leave Darcy nothing—the man had just said that only his wife and unborn babe brought him happiness. Did he not deserve happiness also? Why should Darcy be the golden child?

  Secretly, he watched as Darcy undressed and finally released the drape of his wife’s four-poster, cocooning them in their love nest. “Enjoy it while you can, Darcy,” he whispered to the darkness. “Soon it will be I.” He slid the slit closed, locking away the image of contentment he had observed for the past thirty minutes. Picking up the candelabra, he made his way to his makeshift bed. He would need to accelerate the pace of his plan. The worst of the storm had come and gone.Within the next several days, the players would disperse, and he would lose his opportunity to blame Darcy for a series of murders—his chance to destroy Darcy’s reputation and his life, an added benefit of his original plan. While he saw to her—saw that she knew misery of the bitterest kind—he would enjoy the Darcy diversion. The reason for his trip into Derbyshire would know the depth of his ire and know how she had brought shame to all who had once revered her name.

  CHAPTER 10

  “MR. WORTH,YOU RESEMBLE the cat licking the cream,” Anne de Bourgh teased from across the breakfast table.

  The gentlemen slathered blackberry preserves on sliced dark bread. “I had a restful night,” he noted.

  “Pleasant dreams, then?”Anne’s eyes sparkled with girlish mischief.

  “Indeed, Miss de Bourgh.”Worth assessed the woman’s countenance. “I dreamed of infinite possibilities.”

  Anne’s smile grew. “As did I, Mr.Worth.”

  “I was hoping, Miss de Bourgh, that I might interest you in seeing your cousin’s conservatory. Mrs. Darcy assures me that she has cultivated several new species of roses. I am most eager to see them.”

  Anne shot a quick glance at the other end of the table, where Darcy spoke to his sister. “I would be delighted to accompany you, Mr.Worth.” She lowered her voice as if speaking in secret.

  Worth noticed her reticence.“Have I placed you in an awkward position, Miss de Bourgh? I would not for the world have you spoken poorly of,” he whispered for her ears only.

  “No, sir, I have only…only of late taken my life in my own hands, and I, at times, am still unsure of what I should and should not accept.” Anne dropped her gaze, staring at the coddled eggs on her plate.

  “I assure you, Miss de Bourgh, I have only the highest regard for you.”

  Anne moved the bits of egg around with a fork. “I will meet you in the hallway leading to the conservatory in three-quarters of an hour.”

  Worth wanted to say something reassuring, but the lady’s mother entered the morning room. He still did not know how best to respond to Lady Catherine—what he would prefer to say to the woman reeked of disrespect, and he refused to allow his dislike for the way the woman treated her daughter to interfere with his interactions with Anne de Bourgh. His courtship of her. Suddenly,Worth realized that it was a courtship. Out of death comes life, he thought.

  “You are up early, Anne,” Lady Catherine remarked.

  “I am, Mother.” Anne filled her mouth to avoid conversation.

  “You must guard your health, Child. You have never been strong; a full night’s sleep can only benefit your constitution,” Her Ladyship cautioned.

  Anne muttered, “I am no longer a child, Mother.”

  Lady Catherine stared disapprovingly at her daughter. “You are my child, no matter your age,” the woman declared to the entire table. “And as your mother, I have a responsibility to guide you.”

  Anne wanted to offer a retort, but a slight shake of Darcy’s head warned her to think again. She touched her napkin to her mouth. “If you will excuse me,” she announced to the room. “I have some tasks in my chamber to which to attend.”

  Mr. Worth rose to acknowledge Anne’s speedy exit. He had watched the interaction between mother and daughter closely. Anne de Bourgh evidently sought release from the control her mother exerted over her, much to Her Ladyship’s displeasure. He wondered how he might fit into the equation. He had developed a fondness for Miss de Bourgh, but he did not wish to be an instrument for the lady’s rebellion. As he considered the possibility, he quickly ascertained the disparity in their social status—something he had not considered over the past few days. Being thrown together, society took a back seat to the storm. Now, he saw the futility of such a suit. As the younger son of a minor lord, he had nothi
ng to offer her in rank. He would meet Miss Anne as he requested, but he would make it clear to the lady that he did not have—could not have—designs on her.

  “And where is Mrs. Darcy?” Lady Catherine asked sarcastically. “Does she keep city hours in the country?”

  “No, Your Ladyship, I do not.” Elizabeth swept into the room, pausing only long enough to squeeze Darcy’s outstretched hand before taking in the morning table’s offering. “I have been in the east wing seeing to the renovations of the last three guest rooms we will be remodeling this winter.” After filling her plate with ham and buttered toast, Elizabeth returned to the table, taking the seat on Darcy’s left.

  “Mr. Baldwin, Mrs. Darcy needs her favorite chocolate.” Darcy winked at Elizabeth.

  “Yes, Mr. Darcy.” The butler motioned to one of the footmen to fill Elizabeth’s cup.

  Tsk. “Mrs. Darcy should be more observant of her appearance; she should look to her waistline,” Lady Catherine observed.

  “Actually,Aunt, I find my wife’s curves most befitting her position as the mistress of Pemberley. No true citizen of Derby would take orders from a waif of a girl.” He gave Elizabeth an enigmatic smile.

  “Thank you, my Husband.” Elizabeth bit back the laughter bubbling up. They shared a secret regarding their future, and it was lusciously satisfying to know Darcy’s devotion to her.

  “Well, I still believe a woman who has been raised to Mrs. Darcy’s’s standing should be more cognizant of the image she creates.” Lady Catherine attacked the eggs and ham on her plate.

  Elizabeth feigned humility. “I will take your advice to heart, Lady Catherine.” She quickly turned her attention to Mr. Worth. “Do you plan to see the conservatory today, sir?”

  “I shall, Mrs. Darcy, with your permission, of course.” Worth placed his cutlery beside his plate in preparation for his departure.

  Elizabeth smiled at how she had maneuvered Worth and Anne together. “I am most eager for your opinion of my horticultural adventures.”

  The man chuckled. “Your manipulations, Mrs. Darcy, will be carefully noted.” He left before he betrayed to the others what he suspected of his hostess.

  When the man departed, Lady Catherine observed, “I am not sure that I approve of Mr.Worth’s attentions to Anne.”

  “Why not?” Georgiana spoke before she thought. Elizabeth had asked Darcy’s sister’s help in convincing Anne of Mr. Worth’s sincerity, and the girl thought the whole situation quite romantic.

  Lady Catherine glared at Georgiana as if the girl had sprouted horns. “The man is obviously not of the proper social class.”

  Darcy placed his cup down hard enough to draw his aunt’s attention. “Your Ladyship,” he spoke in hushed tones, “I have dealt with Mr. Worth previously, and I judge him to be an honorable man. He holds a respected position, and although as a younger son, he has no title, the man would offer the woman he chose something more important—his esteem. If Anne were the object of his affections, I would have no fear that he would run through her fortune. In this age, could a woman ask for more?”

  “Mr. Worth?” Anne came up behind him. He stood admiring a set of armor proudly displayed in the access hall.

  He turned to smile at her, and Anne felt a certain calm steal over her. She had wondered what he thought of her after her verbal exchange with her mother earlier. “Ah, there you are, at last.” He reached for her hand, placing it on his arm. “I feared you might have changed your mind.”

  “Would that have been a disappointment, sir? You might still enjoy the Darcys’ conservatory.” She allowed him to lead her along the passageway.

  “I cannot imagine the beauty of the place being nearly as inviting without your presence, Miss de Bourgh.” He leaned close, speaking softly only to her ears. Less than an hour earlier, he had vowed to make it known to the lady that he would seek his suit elsewhere, but as soon as he had heard her voice behind him, Worth’s reason left him.

  Anne blushed thoroughly. “I suppose I should have asked one of the maids to accompany us,” she noted while looking back over her shoulder, almost expecting one to materialize.

  “You have nothing to fear from me, Miss de Bourgh,” he assured her.“We have already spent several hours alone together, in a perfectly proper way.”

  Anne shook her head. “No, Mr. Worth, I can charge you with nothing.You were the perfect gentleman.”

  He held the door for her. “Then join me, Miss de Bourgh. We will continue to let nature take its course.”

  Anne took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “To nature,” she said softly.

  For thirty minutes, they strolled among the plant rows, admiring the predictable, as well as the more unusual offerings. Worth watched as Anne’s delicate fingers caressed an orchid’s leaves.“Your touch is so tender,” he remarked. “It is like the kiss of a butterfly.”

  Anne paused, hand extended. “I have never been allowed such freedoms,” she whispered.

  “The freedom to know a flower?” He seemed confused.“Surely you deceive me, Miss de Bourgh.”

  “I wish I did, Mr.Worth.”Anne turned to face him.“My mother convinced me and everyone else that I was of a delicate nature. She would consider this time we spend together as an endangerment to my health—the warm moisture in the air—the exotic plants. Other than to occasionally smell the fragrance of the flowers cut and displayed in vases about Rosings Park, I have never truly experienced the beauty of nature.”

  “Surely you have elaborate gardens at your home, Miss de Bourgh.”

  She turned away slightly, ashamed of her assertions.“For years, I have been forbidden to take a brisk walk, spend time in the garden, practice music—to experience life. Is that not strange, Mr. Worth? I am nearly eight and twenty and know less of life than my seventeen-year-old cousin. Until recently, I have never even been anywhere without my mother’s presence or without her permission.”

  Nigel Worth’s heart went out to the woman. He directed her to a nearby bench, where they sat in silence for a few moments. “Might I ask, Miss de Bourgh, what prompted you to defy Her Ladyship?”

  Anne sat with her eyes down, studying her hands as they rested in her lap. “In truth, the thing that changed everything was Mr. Darcy’s marriage.You see, from my earliest memories, I have been told that I was to marry my cousin. My mother claimed that it was his mother’s hope, as well as hers. And although I have never felt anything beyond admiration for Mr. Darcy, I accepted my mother’s assertions about my future. Her Ladyship protected and cajoled and demanded and loved in her own way, and I am a product of all her ministrations and admonitions. And it never occurred to my mother that Mr. Darcy showed no desire to marry me—barely even spoke to me when he called at Rosings. I experienced no Season—had no taste of Society—possessed not even a friend until Mildred Jenkinson came to stay with me. I have had no flirtation—no broken heart—no great love.”

  Anne brought her eyes to meet his steady gaze. “Then Fitzwilliam fell in love with Elizabeth Bennet. If you could have seen how he pined for her when she visited her friend Charlotte Collins at Hunsford! Mildred and I spoke of it often over the weeks that Miss Bennet stayed there in the Collinses’ household. Fitzwilliam was besotted with the woman, and I knew then that, no matter what my mother did, my cousin would never propose marriage to me. I was an old maid before I had ever experienced my first relationship. Miraculously, Mr. Darcy married his love, and my mother bewailed the merits of having a daughter with no redeeming qualities.” Mr. Worth started to correct her, but Anne’s glance stopped him cold. “Do not protest my words, Mr. Worth. I know what I possess: I am an heiress of considerable wealth. So I decided that I might use that to my advantage.

  “Another cousin, Colonel Edward Fitzwilliam, called recently at Rosings, and with him came an associate, Lieutenant Robert Harwood.The lieutenant gave me the type of attention for which I was starving—the kind I had never known.To make a long story short, he asked me to go with him to Liverpool when his or
ders changed. Of course, I refused. How could I chance a flirtation of the heart? I had no reason, I thought, to trust the gentleman’s sincerity. Yet, within days of the lieutenant’s departure, I realized that he could be my only chance to marry; so despite Mildred’s adamant warnings, I covertly devised a plan to follow the lieutenant.”

  Anne straightened her spine. “It is not something of which I am proud, but my mother found me in a Liverpool inn with the gentleman. She took me out of the establishment before the lieutenant returned. I am a ruined woman, Mr. Worth—not ruined in the strictest sense of the word, but ruined just the same. Because I enjoy your company, I had to tell you the truth. It would be unfair of me to do otherwise.”

  Immediately, Nigel Worth caught her hand, bringing her fingers to his lips.“My dear Miss de Bourgh, if you think anything you just said affects my growing fondness for you, you are mistaken. I would deem it an honor to be allowed to show you the world’s simple pleasures. As far as your so-called ruination, I count it as only one of life’s lessons. Our time together may also prove to be another of those lessons, but I would prefer to see where this initial interest leads. I am successful in my profession, and although I could not offer you the kind of luxury you have in Kent, I could provide a modest home in Cheshire. You could be the mistress of your own house if that is what you choose. I am to run for the House of Commons in the next election. I have my supporters and my detractors, of course, but I hold a reputation as an honest man, and most people deal with me as such.Would you consider such a life, Miss de Bourgh? Could you see yourself as the wife of a country gentleman—a solicitor by trade?” Anxiety filled his voice.

  Anne instinctively caressed his cheek. “How has a man of your integrity escaped marriage for so long?”