A Spring Society

by Elizabeth Ann West

  “You are much lighter on your feet than my cousins,” Robert complimented her as she took her turns and skips.

  She mumbled a thank you and realized with Elizabeth away in her rooms giving birth, for the first time in her life, Kitty was the only Bennet girl in a ballroom full of people. A sudden shyness overcame her that had never before impaired her social abilities. Her focus on her dancing allowed her to avoid catching Robert’s gaze directly until the set came to a close and the music stopped.

  Lord and Lady Matlock, along with Lady Catherine de Bourgh stood before the small orchestra as the musicians quietly began to pack up to move to the drawing room for the follies.

  “My friends and family, your host and my nephew, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, has given me the privilege of addressing you this evening to share the happiest of news. . . “ James Fitzwilliam’s voice boomed in the sudden silence of the ballroom.

  Kitty realized all eyes were about to turn to look at her dance partner and she did not wish to be the woman standing next to him in such an awkward manner. Silently, she skittered away to prepare for the follies and hoped to catch a servant to learn of how her sister fared.

  Robert Fitzwilliam cringed as his father announced his future and he turned to tell his new friend his sincerest regrets that his life was not his own. But Kitty was gone.

  As the applause broke out and people nudged him forward, all the next Earl of Matlock could do was accept the congratulations. He edged his way ahead and took his place, standing next to his mouse of a cousin, Anne, beginning the performance of a lifetime.

  Chapter 13

  Fitzwilliam Darcy fluttered his eyes numerous times before his mind registered his odd location: his study. Startled, he sat up to the immediate complaint of his stiff back muscles and banged his knees when he stood up too fast in front of his desk.

  “Elizabeth!” he called, as he took in the scene around him. His Uncle Matlock and the Duke of Devonshire snored across from each other, and not a single decanter held a drop of liquor. Darcy’s stomach lurched as he recalled what had happened.

  After the follies, he had gone upstairs to see to his wife, but he had failed her. As Elizabeth labored through her pains, he had not been able to control his panic. Two footmen had helped remove him from the room on the orders of Lady Matlock who had realized where her nephew would likely go when she did not spy him returning to the ball for the last sets. On her orders, his male family members had stood vigil with him in the study, plying him with more spirits than any reasonable person should imbibe.

  Stumbling out of his study and into the hall, the house was eerily quiet. More than the after-effects of his drinking, a new pain swirled in his gut and crept up his esophagus to his chest. He gripped the railing to take the steps with great effort, finding the ability to breathe escaping him to a greater degree. The silence allowed him to hear the thundering of blood pumping in his ears. He reached the top landing and doubled over, willing the contents of his stomach to remain where they were as the fear of Elizabeth and the child being lost made his knees buckle.

  “Sir!” Mr. Cowles valet found his master incapacitated in the hall and rushed to his side. White as a sheet, Fitzwilliam turned his head to see his savior with his eyes dark with worry. “Let’s get you to the bath. You don’t wish to see your wife and child in this state.”

  “My wife . . . and child?” he asked, still unable to properly form sentences as the fears refused to relent.

  “Come with me. We shall ready you to meet your son.” The butler directed his master to his room where the hot water already waited with his valet. Mr. Darcy began to realize what was said and as they passed Mrs. Darcy’s room, he diverted from his butler’s plan and opened the door.

  Two maids were gathering baskets of bloodied sheets, and her room was empty. Mr. Darcy seized the door jamb in shock. His butler clapped a hand on his shoulder.

  “Mrs. Darcy asked to be moved to your room, sir. This way. We have just settled them, and I was coming to fetch you.”

  Leaving the maids to clean the mistress’ room, Mr. Darcy entered his bedroom just down the hall instead of through the adjoining door to come across a vision from his dreams. In his bed with her hair loose in curls around her lay his wife, slumbering with a swaddle of blankets in the crux of her arm.

  Trepidly, Mr. Darcy approached his little family and felt overwhelmed by his emotions stifling his breath once more. He carefully extended his hand and grazed Elizabeth’s cheek with the back of his knuckle. Sighing in relief, he felt her warmth. But his cold touch had woken her.

  “William?” she asked in a sleepy voice. “We have a son.”

  She stirred to move the blankets in her arm and immediately their son’s round, cherub face was revealed. The child’s complexion was slightly mottled as he could not be but a few hours old, yet both parents adored his sleeping form with utter fascination. When his little lips parted like he might cry, but instead only showed him to make a slight quibble with his mouth and then settle back down, neither of them moved. Then it was Mr. Darcy who spoke.

  “God has protected you both, and my greatest prayer is answered.” He leaned down to kiss his child’s forehead and then leaned further to bestow a kiss on Elizabeth’s cheek. “Allow me to refresh myself and then I shall return for your slightest need.”

  Elizabeth hummed in contentment. Before she could find the energy to tell him how much she loved him, she had fallen back asleep.

  Once he was bathed and dressed in a new set of clothes, Mr. Darcy again visited his wife and child, but they were still sleeping. He did not have the heart to wake them and instead left to see to the rest of the household. The ball ending with such a momentous occasion as the birth of his heir, in addition to the announcement of his cousins’ engagement, the master of Pemberley rightfully expected the night’s events would quickly spread through society. As he passed the pile of post to go out, he noticed many missives were written by their guests.

  Strolling to the dining room to break his fast, and then see about a tray being taken to Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy was surprised to see the place mostly empty. He realized the men were likely still in bed and the ladies enjoyed a tray in their rooms. Alone at the dining table was Elizabeth’s sister, Miss Catherine. Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Mr. Darcy complimented her on the last evening’s performance.

  “Thank you, but I did not think you would remember it. I am sure your thoughts were elsewhere,” Kitty remarked, pushing bits of roasted tomato around on her plate.

  Mr. Darcy nodded, carrying a plate equally full of savory items like sausages, roasted tomatoes, and toast to the table. His stomach protested at first to the food as he still suffered from the previous night’s drink, but after his toast was half eaten, he felt better. Kitty sat silently, and her brother reflected on how much the young woman had changed since he had met her. Swallowing a bit of crust and washing it down with coffee as it became slightly stuck in his throat, Mr. Darcy coughed gently to test his voice before he spoke.

  “Where are Georgiana and Anne?” he asked after the other single women in the family that were in residence. But Kitty shrugged.

  “I haven’t slept yet. I wasn’t tired.”

  “Were you with your sister?” Mr. Darcy asked, wincing as he again remembered how he had failed his wife so terribly.

  Kitty nodded.

  Suddenly, Mr. Darcy began to fear that their younger sister had been traumatized to witness the birth of her nephew. So he gently inquired if she was upset by the delivery and Kitty laughed.

  “Mr. Darcy, where I am from, children are born with great regularity. I was ten when my Aunt Gardiner birthed her eldest daughter at Longbourn.” Kitty lifted her cup of chocolate to her lips.

  Mr. Darcy patted his mouth with his serviette to hide his reaction of confusion. Before he could speak, Kitty licked her lips and explained.

  “Children come early or late as they plan. My aunt and uncle were visiting from London and were due to leave the fo
llowing day, but it was not to be.”

  “And you were enlisted to lend aid?”

  Kitty shook her head. “No, but I snuck in behind the maids when the linens went between the room and the kitchen. I was curious,” Kitty smirked, and then her expression turned soberer as the dining room door opened and the Viscount Ashbourne entered, looking extremely disheveled.

  “Kitty,” he said, not noticing Mr. Darcy at first. Spying his cousin, Robert Fitzwilliam offered his congratulations and then approached the table.

  Fitzwilliam Darcy watched the shoulders of his sister tense.

  “Please say you will change your mind. Come to London. Darcy, tell her she will have such fun.” Robert Fitzwilliam spoke animatedly, without making himself a plate before he sat at the table. It was rather obvious Kitty was not the only person who hadn’t slept.

  Mr. Darcy slanted his eyes at his cousin, finding his behavior to be inappropriate. He was about to speak up on Kitty's behalf, but the young woman handled the query herself.

  “We spoke about this,” she hissed, hinting that her hours awake were not only spent in the service of her sister. “I hold no desire to go to London and pretend mirth where none is felt, to play a part where the performance never ends.”

  Mr. Darcy leaned back in his chair, slightly affronted by the viciousness of Kitty’s voice. He closed his eyes as Robert continued his entreaties, and nearly jumped when the solution became so painfully clear.

  “Miss Catherine cannot go to London, as she has not only consented to remain here to help with her nephew,” Mr. Darcy announced to Kitty’s stunned silence. “She also must work on her manuscript because she will publish soon.”

  Robert Fitzwilliam eyed his cousin suspiciously.

  “You turned down the publisher. Didn’t he, Kitty?” Robert again used her Christian name in front of another, but it did not yield him the desired effect.

  When Catherine didn’t speak, Mr. Darcy took her silence as a sign of alliance. He felt to be on the right tack to offer her protection, regardless of what Mrs. Darcy thought of her sister’s feelings. It was clear to him that Kitty Bennet was not so enamored with Robert Fitzwilliam that she refused to chase him to London. In one moment, Mr. Darcy suddenly realized the maturity of the woman next to him and issued the edict that would finally dash Robert’s inane aims to curry favor with a woman who was not his intended.

  “Perhaps Miss Catherine never explained to you our larger plans. We shall publish her book ourselves and donate the proceeds to a school being formed here in Derbyshire.” Mr. Darcy pronounced a plan based on nothing more than conjecture and vague discussions with his wife. But seeing a shy smile creep across Kitty’s face, he knew his gamble had been worthwhile.

  “Is this true?” Robert asked, angrily.

  Instead of answering, Kitty shrugged.

  “You need to eat, sir, as it has been a long night. Or if not, I suggest you sleep,” Kitty said, rising from the table and causing Mr. Darcy to absent-mindedly stand as well from decades of training in such manners. Robert remained stubbornly seated, and Kitty announced she would follow her own advice and asked if her brother wished to join her in seeing to her sister.

  Mr. Darcy smoothed his vest as he looked at his half-eaten plate, and decided he had eaten enough. He agreed to Kitty’s plan and announced he wished to see about a tray taken to Mrs. Darcy.

  “Oh, I arranged that before I sat down to eat, Brother,” Kitty said, as she walked to the door. They left a sullen Robert behind and during the walk upstairs, Mr. Darcy didn’t ask Kitty any questions, and she didn’t volunteer any explanations.

  When they reached the landing, Kitty hesitated. This made Mr. Darcy stop and consider his younger sister by marriage.

  “Are you speaking earnestly that we shall publish my stories and benefit a school here?”

  Mr. Darcy cringed.

  “You were not.”

  “No, no!” he called as she began to walk away in the tears that fall so easily when one is beyond exhaustion. “I was afraid you no longer wished to publish and I had spoken out of turn.”

  Kitty stopped and slowly turned around, frantically wiping her cheeks as her emotions consumed her. There was no stopping the tears now that her body had the release she so desperately needed.

  “I would like that very much. Please consider yourself to have a partner in that venture,” Kitty Bennet said, and the two siblings by marriage ended the conversation with a shared nod of respect.

  Alone in the hall, Mr. Darcy suddenly heard the most glorious sound as he walked back towards his room; a baby’s cry. Hurrying his steps, he entered his room just as the babe’s cries ceased and he found the child nursing happily at his mother’s breast. Careful in his movements so not to startle the child or mother, Fitzwilliam walked around the bed as Elizabeth gazed lovingly down at her child. She patted the side of the bed as an invitation for her husband to join them. He removed his shoes and slipped next to her just as he had for months when she napped.

  “Isn’t he just remarkable?” she asked.

  Mr. Darcy leaned over his wife’s shoulder so he could see the babe properly. Two steely gray eyes looked up at him for but a second, eyes just like his late grandfather Bennet, before the work of eating lulled the child back to sleep.

  “I feel you both are.”

  Elizabeth leaned her head back against her husband’s shoulder. She softly began to cry, distressing Fitzwilliam.

  “My darling, what is wrong?”

  She sniffed as she looked back down at the baby sleeping in her arms.

  “He has no name.”

  “But I thought, you had said you wished to name him,” Fitzwilliam remembered quite clearly how every conversation they had about names, she had rejected his suggestions and claimed the right if the child was a boy. Had their offspring been a girl, then it was on him to name the child. The arrangement was one intimate detail of their plans he had hoped to keep since he had not been able to be present for the actual birth.

  Violently, Elizabeth shook her head, slightly startling the baby. As the child began to cry, Elizabeth cried even more, and she turned to place the child in his father’s arms. Mr. Darcy tried to object, but without an opportunity, his hands were suddenly full of a swaddled infant, learning to use his lungs.

  The child’s cries grew louder. Elizabeth withdrew.

  “He is hungry,” Mr. Darcy began, trying to hold the child out, but Elizabeth refused.

  “He needs a name,” Elizabeth adjusted her shift to cover her breasts and looked at her husband with a steely gaze of iron will. Speechless, Mr. Darcy again witnessed the glint in her eyes that he had just spied in the child moments ago.

  Without breaking his wife’s stare, Mr. Darcy announced his son’s name. It was the same name he had always wanted but never uttered, for fear it was not to be.

  “Bennet Fitzwilliam Darcy. My son is named Bennet Fitzwilliam Darcy,” the master of Pemberley pronounced in a most intimate ritual between a husband and wife since Cain and Abel.

  The booming sound of his father’s voice startled young Master Bennet into a brief stupor. Mr. Darcy glanced down at his heir and bearer of his family’s legacy, feeling the edges of his eyes prickle from the threat of tears. He inhaled through his nose and leaned down over the child, holding him close to his chest. He was only granted but a moment when Bennet began to whimper and Elizabeth reached for her son.

  “Thank you, Fitzwilliam. I needed to know you loved him as much as I do,” she said quietly, bringing the child again to her breast and leaving her husband mightily confused.

  But Fitzwilliam Darcy was no fool. Rather than ask for an explanation, he accepted his wife’s vocalized need and sat back to rest with them both. As Bennet nursed, Elizabeth asked about the evening, and Fitzwilliam found he could not give her many details. He did apprise her of the strange encounter with his cousin Robert and what he had promised Kitty.

  Elizabeth sighed. “Well, I suppose there will be a summer spo
use added to the Fitzwilliam family after all,” she said, hinting that Mary Bennet and Richard Fitzwilliam’s elopement news would reach them any moment, the deed accomplished well before Easter. So it would be Robert’s marriage that fulfilled the plans of a summer wedding after all.

  “Yes, and I am happy to say we do not have to sacrifice another sister to the altar, just yet,” Fitzwilliam observed.

  Yawning, Elizabeth rolled slightly to allow Bennet to slumber next to her, protectively shielded by her arm and away from his father. Her husband slid down to cuddle her backside, moving her hair slightly aside to kiss the nape of her neck. The intimacy sent a shiver down Elizabeth’s spine as she happily closed her eyes.

  Both of the Darcys slept as they trusted Mrs. Reynolds to have the household in hand, and only disturb them if necessary. The fortunes of Pemberley, Starvet House, and Darcy House in London were secure for another generation.

  The story continues next in A May for Mary, and for the Darcys in A Summer Spouse… read as I write it on my site, elizabethannwest.com. - EAW

  Also by Elizabeth Ann West

  The Trouble With Horses

  Very Merry Mischief

  To Capture Mr. Darcy

  The Whisky Wedding

  Much to Conceal (exclusively in the boxed set 3 Dates with Mr. Darcy)

  If Mr. Darcy Dared (mature)

  The Moralities of Marriage Series

  By Consequence of Marriage

  A Virtue of Marriage