by Jennifer Joy
As quickly as she had settled into his lap, Elizabeth stood in front of him, trying to tug him to his feet. “Come, William. Anne might wake, and Mrs. Bamber could return any moment. We cannot make an heir here.”
Her words were an easterly wind snuffing out his ardor. Is that what she thought? That his affection was motivated by a commitment to keep the promise he had made to Georgiana? That he was using her? “I am sorry. I had no right.”
“You are my husband. You have every right.”
Darcy did not understand her puzzled expression, but he was unwilling for her to doubt the genuineness of his attachment. “Not like this. Not when you think I expect it of you.”
“But Anne is not safe until you have an heir. It is why you married.”
He could not deny it, though he wished to. How was he supposed to kiss his wife when she would misunderstand his expressions of love as an act of duty? Should he tell her he loved her? Darcy saw the question in her eyes, but if he told her how he felt right then, she would not believe him. She would think he only said what she wanted to hear to get what he needed to protect Anne. When Darcy made love to Elizabeth, he wanted her to be certain it was because he loved her. He did not want the taint her father’s betrayal had cast over her or the shade of Wickham’s usury to ruin what ought to be a true expression of Darcy’s undying devotion to her.
Holding her hands between his, he bent over until their foreheads touched. “If I could relive the past, I would still choose you.”
“But Anne—”
“I love Anne more than my own life, and I will fight to keep her, but you are the one with whom I wish to spend the rest of my days. I would no sooner disappoint you than I would endanger her.”
“Then, we must not lose her to Wickham. I must give you an heir.”
Darcy shared her determination, but the moment had passed. There would be no more kisses for him that night.
Chapter 29
Elizabeth leaned against the wall on one side of the open door of the antechamber and nodded at Evelyn, who stood opposite. They were ready.
The entire household was on the watch for Wickham. They had known he would call soon.
William had not wanted Elizabeth to be present, not knowing what vitriol the viper would spit, and this was Elizabeth’s compromise. While she would have preferred to glare at Wickham directly rather than eavesdrop from a nearby room where they could hear everything without being visible, she did enjoy being the recipient of her husband’s protective aspirations.
She brushed her fingers over her lips, recalling how they had tingled under his kiss. So light and tender. A perfect first kiss that had left her wanting more.
William’s refusal had been a blow … until she understood that he did not want her to feel forced or used. Uncle was right. William was a good man.
Now, Elizabeth’s heart melted a little every time she looked at him. He had not said the words she most needed to hear, but she was confident William would not say them until he truly meant them. Otherwise, he would have said them last night.
And so, there was nothing left to do but wait. She prayed William did not make her wait long.
“They are at the door,” Evelyn whispered, leaning as far out of the doorway as she dared without being noticed.
Elizabeth wished she could see. From the upstairs windows overlooking the drive, she had watched Wickham riding with another man. All she had been able to ascertain was what Mrs. Reynolds had told her. With a huff, the housekeeper had said, “Mr. Hanslock is the magistrate. His property runs the length of Pemberley along the north side. He is a harsh man, who sees generosity as a flaw and understanding as a sign of a weak mind. He has a grudge against the Darcys.”
Not a promising beginning. Grabbing Evelyn, Elizabeth had run downstairs to the antechamber before the gentlemen had reached the door.
Wickham’s voice shouted, “This man is a kidnapper and a murderer. He took my wife from me, and now, he attempts to hide my offspring out of sheer spite. He has always been jealous of the affection his good father had for me, and this is his way of avenging himself. He is using me for his own gain.”
Now that was the pot calling the kettle black. Even Evelyn snorted and rolled her eyes.
A sharp voice spoke. It must be Mr. Hanslock. "Mr. Wickham claims you have his child. Is this true?"
Elizabeth wished William could lie, but anyone who saw the baby would know she was Georgiana’s daughter. Elizabeth had known immediately.
"There is a child," Darcy said.
"I knew it!" Wickham said. Elizabeth imagined him pointing his finger at William when he added, “He is trying to cheat me out of my inheritance by keeping my child as his own.”
Elizabeth clenched her hands at her sides. Someone needed to smack some sense into that selfish coward. Given the opportunity, she would be the first to volunteer.
Mr. Hanslock said, "I am aware that Mrs. Wickham resided with you at Pemberley until her recent death. She did not die of consumption, did she?”
“No.” William volunteered no extra information, and Elizabeth applauded him for it. She could not see Mr. Hanslock’s expression, but she sensed he was enjoying himself. If he was as Mrs. Reynolds claimed him to be, he would enjoy dragging her husband’s name through the mire. But would he see justice done? That was all Elizabeth cared about. She and William would endure his slights if he was reasonable for Anne’s sake.
“Am I to understand that you have misled others regarding the cause of her demise?” he asked.
Surely, the magistrate knew the answer. Why would he ask such a thing unless he meant to be cruel?
“My sister died after giving birth. I acted out of respect for her wishes,” William replied.
“And the child survived?” the magistrate asked.
“Yes.”
Elizabeth heard the smirk on Mr. Hanslock’s face as he said, “Even if Mrs. Wickham were to assign you guardianship over her child, she did not have the authority to do so while her husband lives. The laws favor the rights of the father, as I am certain you are very well aware, Mr. Darcy."
Lying and breaking the law. Mr. Hanslock must be gloating. He sounded as though he was.
Clamping her lips shut and crossing her arms over her chest, Elizabeth constrained her rage. Had there been a pistol at hand, she might have shot Wickham and put an end to the obstacle between them and Anne’s guardianship.
Wickham and William were opposites. Wickham had done nothing to recover his wife when he heard of her illness while William had married a stranger to keep his promise. Already, Elizabeth was considering drastic measures. How far would she go to help him?
Maybe it was to her advantage there were no dueling pistols in sight. Neither was there a sword hanging over the fire mantel. She had looked.
And how dare Mr. Hanslock speak to her husband of the laws of Chancery when William probably knew more about the laws regarding guardians and their wards than the Lord Chancellor did at this point.
Mr. Hanslock continued, "Then, you know you have no recourse. You will have to hand the child over to the father."
Silence. Elizabeth thought her heart would burst.
“If I refuse?” William asked.
Elizabeth raised her fist in the air. That was her William!
“Then I will arrest you right now and take the child by force.”
She dropped her fist.
Evelyn wrapped her arm around Elizabeth's. "Oh, Mrs. Darcy, I am so sorry. Mr. Wickham is not a good man. He will not give Baby Anne the proper care. Oh, this is awful! They will force you to hand her over!"
Elizabeth found herself in the role of comforter to her lady's maid, patting her hand and shushing her while Elizabeth’s mind buzzed.
What if William had no choice? What if he had to give Anne to Wickham? Elizabeth could break into Wickham’s rooms at the inn to steal Anne away during the night. She had stabbed the hat pin through her bodice in anticipation of his call that morning, securing it a
gainst her corset so that it looked like an embellishment. Should Elizabeth need it, she was ready. She only needed an excuse.
Evelyn hiccupped through her tears, lamenting, "What does Mr. Wickham know of caring for an infant? She will cry, and he will not know what to do. How will he feed her? I doubt he even has a nurse. I know little enough about babies, but I am convinced I know more than he does. Oh, this is a disaster!"
Time froze. Had there been a break in the clouds, its hopeful rays would have shown through the windows of the antechamber. Spinning to face Evelyn, Elizabeth grabbed the girl and kissed her cheek. "That is right! It is a disaster. You are brilliant, Evelyn!"
Charging out of the room, Elizabeth intercepted the gentlemen before they could take one step inside Pemberley’s hall. "Excuse me, please, but might I have a word?" she asked.
Ever the gentleman, William (who did not look at all surprised to see her) introduced Elizabeth to the magistrate.
He was a wiry man with a hawkish nose and sharp eyes, and at a glance, Elizabeth determined she did not like him.
Organizing her arguments while she curtsied, Elizabeth began, "It is an honor to meet you, Mr. Hanslock. I trust that a sagacious gentleman with your experience will agree with me when I express certain concerns regarding the child's immediate removal from Pemberley."
"The child is mine! You cannot keep him from me." Wickham tried to push past William, to no avail.
Elizabeth's jaw tightened, and she fingered the beads of her hat pin, but she kept her calm. Addressing Mr. Hanslock, she said, "There is your first proof, sir. Mr. Wickham does not even know the sex of his child, wrongly assuming he fathered a boy when the infant is a girl. A dear, sweet, delicate girl who requires the services of a wet nurse besides all of the usual accoutrements an infant needs.” When the magistrate’s features did not soften, she focused once again on the practical. “Did Mr. Wickham bring a nurse with him?"
Mr. Hanslock’s lips tightened in annoyance, but he asked Wickham, "Do you have a nurse waiting at the inn?"
"I will employ one as soon as we return."
Elizabeth shook her head. "As I am certain you well know, a wet nurse is not always an easy person to find on short notice as she usually has children of her own to tend to or is already in service to another family. Is Mr. Wickham planning on staying in Lambton, or does he plan on leaving?"
Mr. Hanslock looked to Wickham for an answer.
"I would not dream of staying longer than necessary. I will hire a nurse as soon as we reach London," Wickham huffed.
He played into Elizabeth's hand much better than she could have hoped for. "Your plan is to starve your daughter for days? Are you not aware of how often an infant nurses? I have to wonder what else you do not know, Mr. Wickham." Again, she addressed Mr. Hanslock. "Clearly, this matter was not thought through. Of course, I do not mean to imply you, Mr. Hanslock, but rather Mr. Wickham, who ought to have taken measures toward the comfort of his own daughter if, indeed, he intends to take on the responsibility of her care. I beg of you not to cause the infant any more discomfort than she will have to endure with such an ignorant father." Elizabeth bit her tongue. She really ought not insult Wickham, but he made it so easy.
Mr. Hanslock puffed out his chest, standing taller. "I am under no obligation to you, Mrs. Darcy. My duty, first and foremost, is to restore the child to her proper place — to her father. However…”
Elizabeth held her breath, silently praying for Mr. Hanslock to be reasonable.
He continued, “…it is clear to me that Mr. Wickham is not prepared to take proper care of his child, and I cannot rightly insist that Mr. Darcy hand the infant over until I see for myself that her needs can be met.”
Wickham's face burned in open hatred. "I demand to take her with me now."
Elizabeth said, "In one week’s time. That will give you sufficient time to find a nurse and purchase what your daughter will need. Anything less would be impossible."
Directing his hawkish glare at her, Mr. Hanslock said, "I will allow until the morrow for Mr. Wickham to make preparations. Do not see this as a victory, Mrs. Darcy. Both you and Mr. Darcy must be made to see that you are not above the law. You must pay for your crimes. We will return on the morrow, and you will hand the child over to Mr. Wickham without any trouble or further arguments.”
One day.
They had one day.
Chapter 30
“We could sail to America. Or Australia. Whichever has a ship leaving first,” Elizabeth suggested, twirling a loose strand of hair between her fingers as she chewed on her bottom lip. Her gaze traveled through the room, and she added under her breath, “It will be a pity to leave behind such a wonderful library.”
Darcy wiped the jar of preserves clean with the last piece of shortbread. Handing it to her, he said, “I am glad we wed before you saw my library, or I would forever suspect you married me for my collection of books.”
“A lady must have priorities.” She smiled, nibbled on the shortbread, then handed it back to him. “Please have the rest. I cannot eat another bite.”
“Good because the tray is empty.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “How long have we been in here?”
Darcy looked at the mantel clock. “It is nearly midnight.”
She sighed. “And we are no closer to saving Anne than we were hours ago. What are we going to do, William?”
He looked at the tower of bills he had collected over the past year. Pointing at it, he said, “That is our best option. I will show Mr. Hanslock Wickham’s unpaid bills. We can argue that without my occasional interference (which I only did while my sister was alive), he will soon end up in debtor’s prison.”
“Mr. Hanslock will not care. Children are raised within the prison walls all the time. He will not pity Anne.”
Darcy agreed, but he had one more argument. “I also possess quite a collection of Wickham’s unpaid debts. I mean to offer to settle them in exchange for his signature assigning guardianship to me.”
“He will never agree to it. Not when he has a foothold on Pemberley.”
“No, but we will try. There is nothing else. It is a pity that even inept fathers have more rights than we do, but it is the law.”
Elizabeth huffed. “Chancery laws offend my sense of justice. I hear Australia has rather large snakes. I do not know if I could ever feel comfortable in a country with serpents that can eat crocodiles.”
Darcy adored his wife’s willingness to explore more drastic solutions, but it would not do. “They would stop us before we reached the coast. Even if we did make it aboard ship, would you spend the rest of our lives on the run? You would never see your family again.”
Elizabeth shrugged, then her brow furrowed. “I would miss Jane.”
“And your father?” Darcy asked.
She scrunched her nose. “I will forgive him … eventually. It is not in my nature to be angry for longer than necessary.”
“I am grateful for that,” Darcy teased.
“Come,” she said, grabbing a lit candle and standing, “let us check on Anne again.”
“We will wake Mrs. Bamber.”
Elizabeth’s eyes teared. “She will not mind, I think. This could be Anne’s last night with us.”
Not if Darcy could help it. He only prayed that Wickham’s greed exceeded his sense of entitlement, or he would never sign away what he considered to be his rightful inheritance.
Darcy reached for Elizabeth’s hand, holding it close to him as they went up the flight of steps and down the hall to Anne’s nursery.
Opening the door slowly, so as not to startle Mrs. Bamber or wake Anne, Darcy tip-toed over the carpet after Elizabeth. Should he tell her how much he admired her tonight? How deeply he loved her? Darcy had seen Elizabeth at her worst — betrayed, hurt, and grieving. The challenges they had faced had revealed her character, and Darcy thought her exquisite. Matchless. He could travel the world and live a thousand years, and he would not find another like
Elizabeth. He loved her. He was going to tell her.
Touching her elbow, the words he burned to tell her on the tip of his tongue, he waited for her to turn to him.
She spun. “She is gone!” Elizabeth gasped.
Darcy’s mouth went dry.
“William, she is gone!” she repeated, looking about frantically.
Anne. Where was Anne? He threw her blanket to the side. She was not there. He looked around the room for any sign of Anne, but she was nowhere in sight. The window was ajar…. He opened it, leaning out and squinting his eyes in the dark. Nothing.
“Mrs. Bamber is gone,” Elizabeth said, her hand over her mouth and her chest heaving.
It was Darcy’s worst nightmare come to life. His failure toward Georgiana was nothing compared to this. Anne had been kidnapped one floor above him in his own home.
Think. He needed to think. “Mrs. Bamber would never take Anne away.”
“Not even to keep her from Wickham?”
Wickham. The fiend who had stolen Georgiana out from under Darcy’s nose as smoothly as a fox sneaking into a chicken coop. Had he been too impatient to wait until the morrow?
Darcy straightened. “First, we must search the house. Anne is a secret no more.”
Elizabeth squeezed his hand. “I will wake the servants.”
An hour later, every nook and crevice of Pemberley had been searched. Anne was gone.
Darcy gritted his teeth. He knew where to find her. “Ready a horse. I am going to the inn,” he told Grayson.
“For me, too,” Elizabeth said, adding, “I am not letting you go alone.”
“Do you ride?” Darcy asked. He would not travel slowly.
“I will keep up. We cannot allow that horrible man to slip away from us with Anne. We might never see her again.”
Darcy’s thoughts exactly.
Icy rain stung his face, but he pushed onward, galloping as fast as his horse could carry him over the slippery road to Lambton. To the inn. To Wickham.
