Men of Consequence

by Francine Rainey

  “Yes, he...” Darcy began but then became as stiff as a statue, his eyes frantic, and his breath stripped from him. Suddenly, Darcy lurched to his feet, causing Francesca’s arm to fall to the bench.

  “What is it, Fitzwilliam,” she asked. “How delightful,” she said, following the line of his vision. “It is Elizabeth!”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Come, Fitzwilliam! We must greet her,” Francesca said as she waved to Elizabeth. Darcy was paralyzed, unable to move, unable to run. His breathing was erratic, like a mortally wounded man struggling for his last breaths. He wanted to rush to Elizabeth and explain, and at the same time, he wanted to hide from the censor he was afraid he would find in her eyes. Slowly, as if compelled to view the aftermath of a horrific accident, his feet began to move. He shuffled near, oblivious to the fact that he held a suddenly shy Alexander, now resting his head in the crock of Darcy’s neck while Francesca clung to his arm. Darcy approached, heedless of the perfectly condemning picture they made. Like a man condemned to the gallows, he closed the small distance between them in a second or a lifetime, he knew not, but finally, he stood before Elizabeth awaiting his fate.

  “Elizabeth, I did not know that you frequented my little park!” Francesca said brightly. “But no matter, it is wonderful to see you. Is it not, Fitzwilliam?” Francesca looked up, smiling into Darcy’s frozen face. “And you have brought a friend. Will you not introduce us, Elizabeth?”

  Elizabeth took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “Of course. Mrs. Francesca Waters, may I introduce Miss Caroline Bingley, my brother Bingley’s sister. To Mr. Darcy, Caroline needs no introduction. Caroline, may I introduce Mrs. Francesca Waters.”

  “Oh, well, then we are all among friends. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Bingley!”

  “The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Waters.”

  While the others engaged in something as worthless as introductions, Darcy’s world was exploding. He stood there, unnaturally stiff and solemn, incapable of looking at anything or anyone else but Elizabeth. The pain that shot through his body was so acute; it nearly caused his knees to buckle. Like a spectator in the theater, he watched powerlessly as the scene played out before him. The voices around him sounded a thousand miles away as his mind screamed loudly, Not like this! Not like this! Not! Like! This!

  “And who is this handsome fellow?” Caroline’s voice sounded like a bugle calling troops to the horror of war, and Darcy was startled back to the present. He blinked and opened his mouth, but words fled him like a thief avoiding capture.

  Francesca smiled lovingly and reached across Darcy’s body to caress Alexander’s cheek. “This is Alexander William Waters…my son.”

  “How delightful. What a handsome boy he is,” Caroline enthused.

  “Thank you, Miss Bingley. He is the light of my life.”

  “Alexander, darling,” Francesca spoke, and Alexander raised his head from the hiding place he had found in Darcy’s neck and looked at his mother, “will you not greet our new friends as mummy has taught you?”

  Alexander turned and looked at Caroline, and for one moment, his face was nearly parallel with Darcy’s. Two pairs of sapphire eyes with large dark irises, fringed with thick, black lashes, two heads with wavy black hair, two linear noses, two pairs of full lips, were juxtaposed, and Elizabeth gasped and took a small, involuntary step, backward. Quickly, Alexander turned his face back into his hiding place, wrapped his small arms around Darcy’s neck, and snuggled closer.

  “Alexander,” Francesca coaxed.

  “Please, do not disturb him. He seems comfortably situated where he is,” Caroline laughed. “Such a handsome boy, is he not, Elizabeth?

  Elizabeth cleared her throat, “Yes, handsome indeed,” careful to avoid Darcy’s insistent gaze and thrilled that her voice had not trembled.

  “I am sure you and Mr. Waters were very proud of him,” Caroline continued.

  Francesca pouted, “It grieves me to say that Mr. Waters died before he was born.”

  “You poor dear! How horrid for you!”

  “Well, it was some time ago…”

  Elizabeth heard the voices around her as if she were standing in an echo chamber. Each sound reverberated through the hollowness of her heart. Her eyes left Alexander and finally lifted to Darcy’s. They both stared, incapable of turning away. Everything else faded away, except that shared gaze that communicated the weight of their anguish, fears, regrets, and uncertainties.

  “Is that not so, Mr. Darcy?” Caroline asked with a simpering smile.

  “Fitzwilliam?” Francesca shook the arm she still held.

  Darcy’s head swiveled, “I beg your pardon?”

  Francesca laughed, “Darling, Miss Bingley was addressing you.”

  “I beg your pardon, Miss Bingley. I was not attending.”

  Caroline tapped his arm and batted her eyes coquettishly, “Should I be concerned that you now find my conversation so altered, sir?”

  “Not at all, Miss Bingley. I am sure I find your conversation as it always was,” Darcy answered. Elizabeth, who would have typically found the exchange diverting, stood unnaturally stiff, staring beyond them with glazed eyes.

  “Well, no matter if I cannot keep your attention, for it seems you have been thoroughly enthralled by this little one!” Caroline smiled and tapped Alexander’s leg, causing him to snuggle closer into Darcy’s neck.

  “Yes, they are quite the pair. Alexander and I are very fortunate to have Fitzwilliam, as a, um, as a friend,” Francesca looked up at Darcy and smiled brightly.

  Darcy had not moved in several moments. He just stood there, staring at Elizabeth, his eyes somber and empty, and his once frozen expression now pinched, as Darcy endured the most excruciating pain he had ever experienced, chained as he was in this torture chamber of past regrets and present despair, from which he could not escape. Meanwhile, Elizabeth wore a stiff smile with her eyes glued somewhere in the vicinity of his cravat, refusing now to raise farther, and Darcy had not felt as forlorn in his life.

  Caroline cleared her throat and said too brightly, “Well, how enchanting to meet you, Mrs. Waters and darling Alexander. I hope to see you in town and further our acquaintance.”

  “Indeed, Miss Bingley, that would be agreeable!” Francesca turned to Elizabeth. “Elizabeth darling, you have been a little quiet today. I hope you have not felt forgotten as I became acquainted with Miss Bingley?”

  Elizabeth tore her eyes from Darcy’s cravat, “Not at all,” she said. “It is as it should be,” Elizabeth smiled. “And it was a pleasure to meet your darling boy. He is indeed very handsome.”

  “Thank you, and I have not forgotten the little excursion we have planned. I shall call again soon to arrange things,” Elizabeth nodded.

  “Well, we must be off. Good day, Mrs. Waters, Alexander. Good day, Mr. Darcy,” Caroline curtsied.

  “Miss Bingley,” Darcy bowed to Caroline as well as he could with Alexander clinging to him. Then he turned to Elizabeth, “Miss Bennet,” Darcy said softly while looking at her with eyes that begged for absolution.

  “Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Waters,” Elizabeth curtsied, took one last look at the picture they made, and turned sharply, and walked away.

  “Well now, that was interesting, was it not?” Caroline chattered away back in the carriage. “What a delightful boy. A little shy, but that is understandable. Did you know that Charles always says that Darcy is shy rather than aloof? Did you not think that the boy looked uncommonly like Darcy? Those eyes!” Caroline continued, not waiting for an answer. “Even the nose and hair, how singular! And that story about her husband dying before the boy was born? How convenient,” Caroline tittered. “You know, I have heard of men of Mr. Darcy’s stature making their natural sons their heirs as someone with Mr. Darcy’s extensive wealth could not afford to take a wife who might only give him daughters. His estate may not be entailed, but a man of Mr. Darcy’s virility would require a son.
And one never knows if whomever he chooses as his bride will be capable of producing one. A bird in the hand and all of that. Of course, he would desire to do such a thing, I should think, being so stuffy about duty. Otherwise, his firstborn would be denied his rights.”

  “They did look like quite the little family, did they not?” Caroline asked as Elizabeth looked out the carriage window and refused to answer. Caroline tilted her head and looked at Elizabeth with a raised brow. “You are very quiet, Eliza.” She reached forward and tapped Elizabeth’s arm. “What is your assessment? You are known for your keen mind. What do you make of her tale? And did Alexander not look uncommonly like Mr. Darcy?”

  If they expected Elizabeth to cower, they would be mistaken. Elizabeth looked at Caroline and said with steel in her voice, “Caroline, I will not do Mrs. Waters the dishonor of questioning her story, nor speculate about Mr. Darcy and what is clearly a private matter of which I know nothing. Please do not importune me further about it.”

  Caroline lifted her chin, “Of course not, dear Eliza. I meant no harm.” Caroline took one more look at Elizabeth’s flushed face and turned to the carriage window and smirked.

  Darcy walked briskly, his posture stiff and his mouth in a grim line with a drowsy Alexander on his shoulder. Francesca nearly skipped to keep pace. She glanced up several times, but Darcy’s face was a hardened mask. When they reached the townhouse, and Alexander was given to the Nurse, Francesca approached the drawing room door. She closed her eyes briefly, and then she inhaled deeply and entered.

  “Fitzwilliam, shall I call for tea?”

  “What was the meaning of that!?” Darcy stood in front of the mantle with his arms folded, and his expression thunderous.

  Francesca widened her eyes, “What do you mean, Fitzwilliam?”

  “Do not play the innocent with me,” he spat the words. “Did you think that I would not know that you arranged that little encounter? What? And to use Miss Bingley? What did you think? To cause a scandal to force me to do what?” He stood before her now, his brows furrowed, his chest heaving.

  Francesca turned large, watery eyes upon him, “Fitzwilliam, I do not know what you mean. I have only today been introduced to Miss Bingley.”

  “Do not take me for a fool. That little act, with Elizabeth in tow, was entirely too convenient. I warned you to leave Elizabeth out of this!” Darcy bellowed.

  Francesca turned her head away, “Fitzwilliam, I do not know what you are accusing me of, but I only want what is best for Alexander,” she said softly.

  “And trotting him out to be used as a pawn in public is what is best for him? Do you think so little of his welfare that you would use him in this manner? What did you hope to gain from it?” Darcy asked, his voice gruff, and his chest rising and falling rapidly.

  “I only want what is rightfully his, Fitzwilliam.”

  “What is rightfully his?!” Darcy exploded, “Then you should have informed me of his existence when you first knew!” Francesca took a step back from the fury in Darcy’s eyes. “Now that I know, I have told you I would care for his future.”

  Francesca glanced down and bit her lip, then she turned fiery eyes to Darcy, “But he is your firstborn son. He should be your heir.”

  “My heir? You know natural sons cannot inherit.” Darcy turned his back to her, and closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

  “Natural sons cannot inherit titles, Fitzwilliam,” Francesca pressed. “But they may inherit property. Is Pemberley written so that no natural son may inherit or does it just state that it must be your son? For goodness sake, Fitzwilliam, foundlings have been adopted by gentlemen and made heirs. It can be done.”

  Darcy whirled around, “Are you suggesting that I adopt my own son?” He barked.

  “I am suggesting that you not allow Alexander to suffer for your, our actions! He does not deserve to be denied based upon our behavior, Fitzwilliam. He is your firstborn, and he is innocent, but he will be consigned to a life in the shadows, being denied the prestige that is rightfully his.” She walked closer and placed her hand on his arms. Looking up with pleading eyes, she said softly, “Can you live with that, Fitzwilliam?”

  Darcy inhaled and turned his head. Francesca pressed, “It will not be so bad, Fitzwilliam. We were good together once.” She trailed her finger down his arm. “Were we not?”

  Darcy flinched and stepped away, eyeing Francesca with a hard look, one corner of his lip upturned, disgust dripping from him. He then picked up the hat he had laid haphazardly upon the table and walked toward the door. When he reached it, he turned, “Stay away from Elizabeth,” he warned in a slow, steely tone. Then he walked out to his awaiting horse, that he had called for when he first arrived and galloped away.

  Back at his townhouse, Darcy raced up the front stairs. The wide-eyed footman flung open the door and took the outerwear from a stone-faced Darcy.

  “Where is Miss Bennet?” Darcy barked as he walked briskly down the corridor.

  “Miss Bennet left some time ago, sir,” the footman called to Darcy’s retreating form.

  Darcy stopped and swiveled, “She has not returned?”

  “Well, yes and no, sir.”

  “Yes and no?” Darcy asked scowling, “Which is it?”

  The footman stammered. “She, she returned, but, but seeing Miss Darcy still engaged, Miss Bennet asked for a hackney.”

  “A hackney?” Darcy’s eyes bulged. “And you called her one?”

  “I, I tried to convince her to take the carriage, but she demanded the hackney. I did not think I could refuse a guest, sir,” the footman answered with his eyes lowered and feet shifting from side to side.

  Darcy stilled, his eyes blinking rapidly, then he pivoted and strode to the music room. Georgiana looked up as he entered. “Brother!” Her eyes lit momentarily in excitement, but then her brow creased in confusion, “What is it, Fitzwilliam?”

  “Dearest, where is Miss Bennet?”

  “Oh, Elizabeth. There is nothing to worry about, Brother. She came, and when I was still with the music master, she decided to visit her relations,” Georgiana smiled. “She will be back before dinner.” Georgiana surveyed her brother’s face. “Is there something you need to tell her?”

  Is there something I need to tell her? Darcy closed his eyes and shook his head.

  “No?” Georgiana responded, misinterpreting the shake of his head. “Well, then, Brother, shall I see you for dinner?”

  Darcy nodded, and Georgiana smiled and returned to her music.

  Darcy walked absently to his study and slammed his fist on his desk. This could ruin everything. Darcy sunk into his chair and closed his eyes. Elizabeth knew. That was frightening enough, but to have had her discover it in such a crass and shocking manner, sent Darcy into a panic. What must she think? After playing the lover to her these last few weeks to find out about his past this way, he lowered his head into his hands. He had watched the sparkle in her eyes die as comprehension dawned. Darcy clutched his chest as misery of the acutest kind – the emptiness of his life without love, without that spark, without her, threatened to shred his heart into too many pieces. Darcy placed his head in his hand and groaned.

  “Mr. Darcy, sir.”

  Darcy looked at his butler with wounded eyes.

  “Your solicitor has arrived, sir.”

  Darcy closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was set to leave tomorrow to see his uncle; he had to see his solicitor. Darcy sighed, “Send him in.” He straightened his cravat, ran his hand through his tousled hair, and sat upright in his chair.

  Elizabeth looked at the elegant façade of the Darcy townhouse as her uncle’s carriage pulled before it. She exited the carriage slowly, her usually light tread, heavy as she mounted the steps.

  “Welcome back, Miss Bennet,” the butler, having resumed his position from the footman, greeted her.

  “Thank you, Johns. Can you tell me where Miss Darcy is?”

  �
��Miss Darcy, I believe, is in her sitting room.”

  Elizabeth softly exhaled, and her shoulder’s relaxed. She would not have to attend Georgiana in the drawing room and run the risk of seeing Darcy. Now, if she could just ascend the stairs without notice. “Thank you,” she said and headed for the stairs in a nearly unladylike pace. Elizabeth tiptoed up the stairs, one step, two steps, three steps, four – creak. Elizabeth froze, and then she bolted up the stairs as fast as her country-girl legs could carry her. She continued her quick pace until she reached her chambers. Then Elizabeth flung open the door, closed it quickly, and leaned against it, and closed her eyes.

  At evening time, Darcy paced at the bottom of the stairs. He had been with his solicitor when Elizabeth had returned. Now, Darcy’s stomach churned and sweat beaded upon his brow as he wondered whether Elizabeth’s eyes would convey pain, angry, understanding, or forgiveness. He hoped the latter two. He desperately prayed for the latter, anything else was unthinkable. He was afraid that his fragile heart would be unable to bear her rejection, but either way, he had to know. Anything was better than the torment of this limbo. Darcy looked up quickly at the sound of light footsteps. At the sight of Georgiana alone, Darcy dropped his head, and closed his eyes briefly, willing his heart to continue to beat.

  “Good evening, Brother!” Georgiana accepted his proffered arm, “I am thrilled to have your company tonight as you will be leaving tomorrow, and Elizabeth is not well.”

  Darcy tensed. “Do not worry, Brother, Elizabeth has assured me that it is nothing serious. It seems she developed a slight headache from her walk today.” Darcy struggled to force air into his lungs.