Sorrow and Second Chances

by E Bradshaw

  The elderly midwife, however, simply returned his fierce look with an impassive one of her own. Clearly, she was not intimidated by his anger, nor his rank either. In fact, the woman was sat – looking very comfortable – on a bench under one of the great portraits in the gallery, and she had not thought to rise to her feet in his presence, as other members of the serving class would typically do. She seemed completely unfazed by his presence – but moreover, completely unperturbed by Elizabeth’s perilous state. Her air of calm at such a time further irritated Darcy, and he was absolutely convinced that the woman must be mad.

  Decisively turning his head away from the elderly woman in a deliberate dismissal, Darcy instead addressed Mrs Reynolds. “Where is the physician?” he demanded. “Has he been sent for?”

  “Not yet, sir,” Mrs Reynolds answered with a fearful look, clearly aware that her answer would anger him.

  And indeed, Darcy was about to draw breath to chastise her, when the midwife once again interrupted him. “He’ll not be needed for a while yet,” she cheerfully informed him. “First babies take a great deal of time to be born, and your physician would only be sat around twiddling his thumbs and getting in the way whilst he waited for his turn to come. I know you are anxious, young man, as all fathers are, but I can assure you, the babe will not be putting in an appearance for a long while yet. For now, we need to keep Mrs Darcy as calm as can be, as well as keeping her as active as she can manage, for it’s the best way to help the little one to find their way out.”

  The blitheness of her words made Darcy so incandescent with rage that he hardly knew how to respond. But before he had chance to form any sort of coherent reply, or even to dismiss the mad woman, he felt Elizabeth decisively tugging on his arm.

  “I want her here,” she panted, having clearly understood Darcy’s volatile reaction.

  “But –” he began.

  “It’s not you who’s going through this, Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth interrupted in a more forceful tone. “I want her here; she knows what she’s doing, and I need her here with me.”

  There was an implacable and deadly-serious look in Elizabeth’s eyes that finally persuaded Darcy that he should not think to argue with her anymore. Clearly, they had entered a territory that he knew absolutely nothing about, and he realised that he should not think to issue any more commands without first gaining the consent of the women there. Indeed, he perceived the narrowed glares of the collected womenfolk in the room, and he instinctively knew that he would not be well received if he continued to assert how he imagined that things should be done. Thus instead, he nodded with uncharacteristic meekness, and taking the place of Mrs Reynolds by his wife’s side, he simply wrapped his arm around Elizabeth’s swollen waist and politely looked to the midwife for her next set of instructions.

  *****

  Their son was born just as the sun was beginning to rise the next morning, and as soon as Darcy was allowed back into his wife’s bedroom, he rushed straight in to meet his child and to check anxiously on Elizabeth’s welfare. He had paced for what had felt like miles, up and down the hallways as he had attempted to keep his agonising anxiety under control whilst the countless hours had ticked slowly by. Time and time again he had asked for updates on Elizabeth’s wellbeing and on the progress of the birth, until finally he had been told firmly by the midwife that babies take as long as they take and that he must simply be patient. In his lonely, agonising wait, he had worried frantically about Elizabeth, and every cry of pain he had heard her utter had been like a dagger through his heart. The physician had finally been instructed to come after suppertime, and though Darcy had soon afterwards received words of encouragement that it would not be much longer until the baby was born, the last several hours had seemed even worse, to his frantic state of mind.

  Nevertheless, he realised at once that it had all been worth it when he saw the tiny swaddled bundle lying cocooned in Elizabeth’s arms. She looked flushed and exhausted after her ordeal, but she was smiling proudly – and it was this, more than anything, that assured Darcy that she was well. In fact, though Elizabeth looked up and gave him a teary smile as he entered her room, Darcy saw that she could hardly bare to tear her eyes away from the precious bundle in her arms for long, and she soon returned to gazing with spell-bound adoration at her baby. Darcy approached the bed with quiet, timid steps, feeling very consciously how large and clumsy he was in comparison to the enchanting scene he approached. Leaning closer, he peered intently at the petite features of his baby son.

  “Would you like to hold him?” Elizabeth asked – and though it was clear that she would happily cradle her baby until sheer exhaustion finally made her sleep, she generously gave him up into Darcy’s arms.

  Darcy had never held a baby before, and in fact, he was a little terrified to hold something so delicate and so precious. He gazed at his son with complete absorption and was awed by his tiny perfection. The baby flailed his little fists as if he were in the throes of a mini tantrum and Darcy caught hold of one of his little hands within his own. He could hardly believe how small his son was and he was utterly spellbound as he watched his son’s tiny fingers wrapping around his thumb.

  “He’s perfect,” he told Elizabeth in a choked voice. He looked up with tears in his eyes and met her blissful smile.

  “Yes,” she agreed proudly, “he is.”

  “What shall we call him?” Darcy asked. After everything that she had been through to bring their son into the world, Darcy knew that it was her right, and not his, to name their child.

  And in fact, though they had discussed various potential names during the months of her pregnancy, Elizabeth seemed to know exactly what she wished to name their son. “I’d like to name him Thomas Fitzwilliam, after my father, and after you,” she replied with certainty. “If you agree, that is?”

  “Yes,” Darcy smiled, as he looked down once again at their son to confirm that the name seemed to fit. “I think it will suit him very well.”

  Moving to sit carefully on the bed by Elizabeth’s side, he brought little Thomas closer to her so that she might also peer down into their baby’s face. For a long moment they both gazed with silent wonder at his little features, before Darcy leaned forward to gently kiss Elizabeth’s cheek.

  “Thank you for this wonderful gift,” he said to her softly. “And welcome to the world, little Thomas Fitzwilliam,” he added to their son.

  Chapter 22

  As with all new parents, there was so many new things to be learnt, and so many new experiences to navigate through, that the fortnight before the arrival of their guests passed without them even noticing the passage of time. They were therefore fortunate in having such a well-trained and dedicated team of staff, for neither Darcy nor Elizabeth gave much thought to managing the house or running the estate during that time, and yet everything continued to run efficiently without their involvement. The arrangements for the harvest festival continued apace as well, and so when the Bennet family, along with Mrs McRoy, Mr Richardson and the Gardiner’s arrived at Pemberley, Elizabeth and Darcy were able to focus their attention on their guests and their son, rather than having to concern themselves with anything else. Naturally, there was a great deal of fuss made of little Thomas, for he was the first grandchild and the first nephew born into their family – and although Elizabeth grew a little tearful at the thought that her mother was not there to give her advice, just as she would never meet her grandchild, it was nevertheless a happy occasion overall.

  Indeed, when Darcy awoke on the morning of the harvest celebration, he almost had to pinch himself to believe the good fortune that had befallen him over the space of the last year. So much had happened over the previous year that he truly felt that his life couldn’t have been more different now than it had been in the previous autumn. When he had risen from his bed approximately a year ago, on the morning of the last harvest celebration, so much had still been uncertain. Elizabeth had not yet agreed to become his wife, and at the time he
had been nervously contemplating how he could go about asking her (once again) if she would do him the great honour of marrying him. And of course, because of her, he and Georgiana now had a large and loving family, and he had a son and heir. Truly, he knew he had a great deal to thank her for.

  Later that day, as Darcy escorted Elizabeth across the gardens towards the large tent that had been laid out for the harvest feast, he heard some of his tenants shout jocularly that the Mistress of Pemberley had brought a special harvest that year – and truly, she had. With great tenderness, Darcy wrapped his arm around Elizabeth’s waist as he escorted her to her seat at the head table, and he did not mind in the least bit that his private feelings for his wife were clear for all to see. The pair of them received good-natured cheers as they took their seats, and as Darcy stood to begin his usual speech to give thanks for the harvest, he smiled broadly as he expressed how grateful he was to them all – his staff, tenants and guests alike. But this year he had more to add, and to loud cheers of approbation, he told them all how thankful he was for the additional blessings of his wife and son. Elizabeth blushed to the roots of her hair in response to his praise, though Darcy could tell from the glittering look in her eyes and the wide smile which she gave him in response that she loved him, just as much he loved her.

  *****

  “So, I hear that you are stealing another one of my daughters off to Derbyshire,” Mr Bennet complained in a wry tone as he approached Darcy later that evening.

  The feast had been concluded and the tables had been cleared away, and after Darcy and Elizabeth had led the first dance to start the evening festivities, he and Elizabeth had then begun to circulate around their guests. Indeed, what with having so many people to speak to, Darcy had not yet had the chance to have a proper conversation with his father-in-law, though he was glad that the opportunity had arisen since he was curious to find out more about what had ultimately prompted Mr Bennet to seek his second chance at happiness by proposing to Mrs McRoy. Even so, knowing that it would be impolite to launch straight into such a topic, Darcy merely answered the accusation that Mr Bennet had put to him.

  “If you mean to chastise me for finding Mr Richardson a living, then I suppose I had better sit down while I hear your lecture,” retorted Darcy dryly, as he indicated a row of seats to one side where they might sit down together.

  Though Mr Bennet took the seat by Darcy’s side, he was clearly not ready to let the matter drop. “Another daughter lost to the wild lands of Derbyshire!” he exclaimed with droll exaggeration. “I hardly know whether to be grateful to you for your assistance or outraged that you keep stealing my daughters away from me!”

  “Well, Mr Richardson and Mary seem pretty happy with the situation,” replied Darcy, remembering as he spoke Mary’s tearful words of thanks and the fervent hug that she had given him when she had first been told of the arrangements that Darcy had made for her fiancé.

  “But I could have kept young Mr Richardson dangling as a prospective suitor for years whilst he searched for a suitable living!” protested Mr Bennet. “Indeed, I’m quite sure that I would have been very happy to have had such an amusing diversion whenever I got bored!”

  “But your daughter would not,” Darcy reminded him, as he nodded pointedly in the direction where Mary and her fiancé were stood happily talking to one another in a secluded corner. “I know you are an affectionate father, but I think you will just have to accept that she is happy with Mr Richardson, and as much as you will no doubt miss her when she leaves home, she obviously feels ready to get married.”

  “I just can’t understand why there’s any need to rush,” grumbled Mr Bennet. “I shouldn’t like Mary to leave home before she’s ready – and besides, I hear that there’s no proper home for her to move into yet.”

  “Well, from what I hear from my Uncle Matlock, that issue is to be resolved soon,” countered Darcy. “He wrote to tell me that he has been very pleased with his new vicar so far. In fact, he’s so pleased that he has offered to cover all the costs so that any necessary repairs can be made to the parsonage straightaway. As a result, I fear it won’t be too long until the house will be quite ready for a new bride to move into.”

  Mr Bennet did not reply to Darcy’s teasing comment for a long moment; instead, he looked over towards Mary and Mr Richardson and watched the two of them as they happily interacted with one another. “I suppose you’re right,” he conceded reluctantly after a while. “As much as I don’t want my girls to grow up and leave home, I cannot wish for them to stay with me if it would make them unhappy.”

  Despite Mr Bennet’s words of acceptance, however, in the very next moment he turned and fixed Darcy with a stern look. “Now, that had better be the end of it, mind you,” he warned. “If either Kitty or Lydia happen to find themselves young suitors in the future who are without a suitable occupation, I don’t want to hear that you’ve gone and helped them out. In fact, you should do all you could in such a situation to hinder them from getting any employment whatsoever, and then my girls would remain at home! Do I make myself clear?”

  Darcy smiled and offered a pretend look of apology, though he knew that Mr Bennet was not truly angry with him. “I don’t know if I should add to your burdens,” he said, “but Jane and Charles did comment when they last visited us that they were considering looking at properties further north.”

  “Do you mean to steal all my daughters away from me?” Mr Bennet protested with a sour look.

  “In fairness, I can hardly be held accountable for my friend’s actions as well as my own,” defended Darcy.

  “Well, all the same, remind me to return the favour and help any suitors who might come after Georgiana in the future!” grumbled Mr Bennet.

  “They would need all the help they could get,” retorted Darcy seriously, “since they would likely find themselves being escorted off my land at the end of whatever weapon I could lay my hands on!”

  Mr Bennet laughed darkly. “I’m starting to think that I should have done exactly that when you first came calling at Longbourn!” he joked. “Then I might have been spared the trouble of having to endure a son-in-law who keeps spiriting all my daughters away!”

  Darcy merely rolled his eyes in response, knowing full well that Mr Bennet was actually grateful to him for the help that he had provided to Mr Richardson and Mary, though he was simply too contrary to admit it. “Need I remind you, but you now have your own future to consider,” he replied instead. “You won’t be lonely once you get married. Indeed, I’m very interested to know what finally helped you to make up your mind about the whole situation.”

  “Well, I suppose it was a combination of things,” shrugged Mr Bennet. “It may surprise you to know, but amongst all the many, assorted daft things you say, there is also the occasional piece of wisdom.”

  “I’m flattered,” Darcy commented dryly.

  “I have to admit that you talked some sense into me,” smiled Mr Bennet, “and my daughters greatly set my mind at ease about their feelings on the matter. In the end, I realised that I had been spending so much energy in trying to suppress my feelings for Heather and ignore my true wishes for the future, that I was exhausting myself. Truly, it was a great relief when I could finally give up the struggle and stop pretending. But I couldn’t ask her to marry me in the same month that I had lost Agnes; the month of May will always carry desperately sad memories for me. Even so, I still found myself dithering, even when the anniversary of Agnes’ death had passed, and June was upon me. But ultimately, I realised that Agnes would have rounded scolded me for dragging my feet when I had a chance to be happy, and so I plucked up the courage and asked Heather to marry me, and to my great relief and very good fortune, she said yes.”

  “I am glad,” replied Darcy with genuine feeling. “It was high time you made up your mind and made an honest woman of her, for it is entirely clear that the two of you are exactly suited for one another.”

  “Thank you, though in all honesty, I feel
I will have the better end of the bargain,” smiled Mr Bennet. “Poor Heather has no idea of just what a cantankerous sort of man she has agreed to marry!”

  “Yes, that’s very true,” grinned Darcy.

  Mr Bennet shook his head at his son-in-law’s cheek, though it was clear from the amusement glinting in his eyes that he had taken no offence. “I wrote back to my cousin Collins, as you advised me to do,” he continued, “and I told him that he should congratulate himself on helping me to reach a resolution in regards to my neighbour, for his persuasive and very powerful words had finally helped me to understand my own wishes and intentions.”

  “I imagine the silly little man was hugging himself with utter self-satisfaction,” laughed Darcy.

  “Yes, I imagine so,” agreed Mr Bennet with a devilish smile of his own. “At least, he would have been up until that point. But then I explained that my decided resolution was to marry Mrs McRoy, and if he didn’t like it, then he could consider our acquaintance to be severed forever.”

  “Well done!” Darcy congratulated. “I imagine you must have enjoyed that!”

  “I did, but unfortunately it didn’t work,” Mr Bennet replied dryly. “Despite my best efforts, Mr Collins seemed desirous to maintain our relationship; I can only wonder if it’s because he’s rather keen to safeguard his future inheritance.”

  Mr Bennet gave Darcy a sardonic look as he spoke of Mr Collins’ blatant avarice, and Darcy snorted in wry agreement. “He wrote back to offer his grudging congratulations,” Mr Bennet continued; “somehow, he’d been informed that my intended bride is three years past forty – I imagine it must have been from his informants at Lucas Lodge – but more importantly from his point of view, he’d been told that she never had any children with her last husband. As a result, Mr Collins suddenly decided that he didn’t mind me getting married after all, and so he wrote to tell me that he had decided, after considering the matter with more consideration, that he could give me his blessing.”