She turned back into his arm, enabling him to claim her lips. “Do you think he had his fill?”
He smiled at the lax bottom jaw and the milky drool, which escaped onto a rag on Elizabeth’s shoulder as the sound of her steady pats to his back reverberated around the cabin.
“I am certain he would make us aware if he were not satisfied.”
The tips of his fingers skimmed along Thomas’ pudgy little arm, and he leaned down to bestow a kiss to his tiny fist. “I want to have your portraits painted.”
Elizabeth’s brow drew together with a small crease between them. “Thomas is so young. Do not expect him to be content for the time it would take an artist to capture his image.”
“I know you are correct, but I do not want to forget the two of you as you are now. He will grow, much as he has the last two months, and one day he will be a man—long before we are prepared for such an event.
“He has already grown so.” Her voice was wistful as she sighed. “I do wish him to be healthy and to grow, but I want to savour this time with him.”
His heart swelled with pride at her caring nature. He was a fortunate man indeed.
The carriage passed a familiar building, and with a swift peck on his wife’s forehead, he moved to his seat across from her. She passed Thomas to him while she donned her gloves and her bonnet, and when she was finished, he shifted their son back to her arms.
They made a turn before they reached the village and small creases formed on Elizabeth’s brow. “Where are we going?”
“You will see.”
A loud gasp sounded from her as they took the fork in the road, and she stared down over the edge as they drove by. “Fitzwilliam, you cannot mean to go to Longbourn? Mr. Collins would not welcome us there. He once had a feud with my father over some matter or another, and the two never spoke again. I fear that is why he was so unreasonable when he took possession of the estate.”
They rounded a slight corner, and the grey stone house came into view. Elizabeth had described her childhood home in detail, but his insides quivered at seeing a place so close to her heart. The equipage came to a stop, and short squat man exited the door, bowing in a grovelling fashion.
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “He is not Mr. Collins.”
When the door was opened, Darcy stepped out and helped Elizabeth alight, a hand at one elbow and another poised at her hip should she require help as she held Thomas, and brought her to stand before the man.
With a polite bow, he then was forced to wait as the stranger rose from his obsequious and overdone gesture of greeting. “You are Mr. William Collins, I presume.”
“Mr. Darcy! I am excessively pleased to make your honoured acquaintance!”
Poor Elizabeth still had a crease between her brows as she stared at the man before them, but Darcy continued as if there was nothing amiss. “Mr. William Collins, I would like to present my wife, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy.”
“Ahh! Yes, my dear cousin. I am inordinately pleased you could stay at my modest estate. I am in great anticipation of hosting you whilst you visit the area.”
Her head whipped to Darcy and back to Mr. Collins, who she regarded with wide eyes. “Your estate? But I made the acquaintance of a Mr. Isaac Collins, the heir, before I left Meryton.”
“You have met my esteemed father.” The pitch of Mr. William Collins’ voice rose as his hands made a sweeping gesture to his chest. “I am afraid he is no longer with us, bless his soul. He passed away—not long after you departed Meryton as I understand it.”
Philips had mentioned it in his letters, but the information had not been passed along to Elizabeth for fear of upsetting her. Darcy had also begun the plans for this surprise months ago, and his wife would have questioned why Isaac Collins was hospitable all of a sudden.
“Oh, I am sorry for your loss. Please forgive me if my questions upset you.”
“Not at all,” he gushed, again bowing his head as he spoke. “I understand your stay here was to be a surprise from your esteemed husband, so he likely withheld the information in order to increase the effect of his gift.”
Darcy bit his lip as Elizabeth gave a nod. Her gaze turned to him, and the merriment that danced within expressed her amusement without words. She found Mr. William Collins as foolish as he did.
“I must express my satisfaction in your condescension upon my humble estate, but of course, what am I thinking? I should first invite you inside, should I not? Forgive me for such a grievous oversight! By all means, please follow me to the parlour. I am certain Mr. and Mrs. Hill have made arrangements for your servants.”
An older woman approached them both to take their hats and coats, but she did not give more than a welcoming dip of a curtsy to him while she bestowed a brilliant smile upon his wife. Elizabeth grinned and greeted Mrs. Hill, who discreetly tried to peek at Thomas before she gave a swift curtsy and departed.
They were then shown into a small parlour where Elizabeth scanned the room with an eagerness he did not see often. They both took a seat, and Mr. Collins eyes set upon the baby.
“Do you not have a nurse for the child? I have been told by several amongst the highest circles of society that the only proper way to raise a child is a competent nursemaid and governess.” He backed himself into a wingchair by the fireplace. “I was ordained as a clergyman and was considered for several lofty positions before my father passed. I have even made the acquaintance of your aunt, I believe, Mr. Darcy.”
“My aunt?”
“Why yes! The estimable Lady Catherine de Bourgh! I will be forever grateful for her benevolent condescension.”
A peek to his side revealed Elizabeth to be biting the inside of her cheek, while Thomas was fast asleep and blissfully unaware of the idiotic little man who was too fond of his own voice.
“Her benevolent condescension?” Elizabeth’s voice gave a slight crack, and she cleared her throat.
“What was I thinking? Of course, you would desire refreshments after such an arduous journey! Hill!” He rang the bell, but Hill had anticipated him by arriving with a full tea tray before he could return to his seat.
Once she had arranged everything to suit, Mrs. Hill approached his wife. “If you will pardon me, Mrs. Darcy, but when we heard there was to be a babe, we prepared the nursery for him. I would be pleased to lay him down for you whilst you take your tea.”
Elizabeth smiled with a warmth usually reserved for him and Thomas, and stood to hand their son to Mrs. Hill.
“Have Mary and Hattie arrived?”
“Yes, ma’am, and I will ensure the nursemaid is aware he is in the nursery.”
She gave a last caress to the baby’s head. “Thank you, Hill.”
The housekeeper made her way from the room, and Elizabeth resumed her seat. “I apologise for interrupting you. You were saying Lady Catherine had bestowed condescension?”
Mr. Collins startled. “Well yes, she did! I was a candidate for the living at Hunsford, and she was a most gracious host.”
Elizabeth lifted that one brow. “Lady Catherine allowed you to stay at Rosings?”
“I was given an exceedingly comfortable room within the servant’s wing.” He wore a smile as ridiculous as he was. “The room was more than a humble clergyman such as myself could ever hope to deserve from one of her sphere.”
With a suppressed cringe, Darcy took a deep breath, praying for patience. Thank heaven they were not staying longer than a few nights!
They would be forced to dine with the master of Longbourn one of those evenings, but the little man had decided to use the visit of his cousin to his advantage. Mr. Collins had requested Elizabeth act as hostess for a dinner party on their final evening at Longbourn. Since they were residing at Longbourn as his guest, Darcy did not feel he could refuse.
Mr. Collins appraised Darcy. “I understand you were Miss Anne de Bourgh’s heir when she passed—God rest her soul.”
“Do you correspond with Lady Catherine?” It was doubtful, but since
Mr. Collins had so much knowledge of the lady, the question was logical.
“Oh no! I would never expect one as magnificent as her to correspond with the likes of me! Mr. Thacker and I were good friends as we pursued our studies. We exchange letters often.” An air of concern overtook Mr. Collins’ features as he paused for a moment. “I am grieved by her ladyship’s present situation, but perhaps it is better to remain silent.”
“You are too good.”
Darcy’s head whipped around to his wife, whose lips quirked up on one side. “I do hope we will not inconvenience you during our stay.”
“Of course not, my dear cousin! I should thank you for acting as my hostess for the dinner party! I have wanted to entertain, but without a wife or sister to fill the post of mistress, I felt it should not be attempted.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened, but Mr. Collins never noticed. “Not that much will be required of you. Whilst I am certain you are an able hostess, Mrs. Hill has planned the menu and arranged every detail.”
She regained her aplomb and peered to him before her attention returned to her cousin. “Mrs. Hill is a competent housekeeper. I do not doubt her arrangements are satisfactory.”
Mr. Collins gave a supercilious nod. How could one be so arrogant yet so subservient at the same time?
“Mr. Collins, do you think we could have some time to refresh ourselves before dinner?” A reprieve would be a blessed occurrence!
“Oh! How inconsiderate of me not to take into account your long journey! Hill!” He rose to his feet and made his way with haste to the bell pull.
Hill rounded the corner within a few minutes, and curtsied.
“Please show Mr. and Mrs. Darcy to their rooms.” Mr. Collins’ attention redirected back to the Darcys. “Dinner is with a strict adherence to my schedule. We dine promptly at five o’clock. I believe dining at a later hour is bad for the digestion.”
Darcy gave a small bow before the man could continue. “I give you my thanks, Mr. Collins.”
Mr. Collins bowed at the waist with an arm across his chest and the other outstretched. “It is I who should thank you for condescending to stay in my modest dwelling.”
A sound much like a hiccup came from Elizabeth, and before she lost her composure, Darcy hastened her from the room with a hand to her back. They followed Mrs. Hill up the stairs to the corridor where she halted.
“Mr. Collins asked for the best two guest rooms to be prepared for your arrival, but I thought you might wish to stay in your old bedchamber. There is a door between Mrs. Darcy’s old bedchamber and that of the one next door. Mr. Darcy could use that room if you so choose. I took the liberty of readying both, so you would have the choice.”
Elizabeth reached out to take the older woman’s hands. “I appreciate the trouble you have undertaken. My old bedchamber sounds wonderful. I never thought to set eyes upon it again much less...” Her voice cracked and the housekeeper was no less effected.
“It was no trouble, miss… ma’am… pardon me.” She stepped forward and opened the door.
His wife entered, and though she was emotional, she beamed as she bit her bottom lip. He excused Mrs. Hill and followed, closing the door behind him.
“This was where you slept?” With a slow pivot, he absorbed everything: the furniture, the dressing table, the window seat, and the view of the small apple orchard behind the house. All were items she had once described, but he was now able to commit the actual scenes to memory.
“The room that connects,” she explained as she turned the knob and passed through the doorway, “was Jane’s.”
His trunk was placed in the far corner, and he glanced back where Elizabeth’s was in a similar position. Mrs. Hill was a sly one! She had known all along where Elizabeth would wish to stay.
“Do you think we will both fit in your bed?” He reached out and pulled her back to his chest. Her hands covered his on her stomach, and she sighed as she leaned back into him.
“You will have to hold me for the entirety of the night.”
“That will be no hardship, Mrs. Darcy. No hardship at all.”
The morning dawned with a beautiful blue sky splashed with a few clouds. The roads were nice and dry, so Darcy and Elizabeth eschewed the carriage for the short walk to Meryton as Thomas voiced his occasional approval of the weather from the safe haven of his mother’s arms.
His wife pointed out trees and landmarks, which held fond memories and told him numerous stories of her youth until they reached the village, and the inn where he had overheard the life-changing conversation between Gardiner and her Uncle Philips.
The Bird in Hand appeared no different than it had the first time he laid eyes upon it, despite the passage of over a year. Its half-timber frame and white plaster facade had undergone much less alteration than he had in that period of time.
Elizabeth gazed in his direction with a knowing look. She, no doubt, knew where his thoughts lie; the turn of her mind was likely much the same.
They made their way to the small house behind Mr. Philips’ offices, and the door opened before they could lift the latch to enter the garden.
“Lizzy! I noticed you from the window!”
Elizabeth’s joy was apparent as she stepped forward and wrapped an arm around the lady. “Hello, Aunt. Did Uncle Philips tell you we would call?”
“He most certainly did! I was never so shocked in my life. That you would return to visit—and that baby!”
His wife handed over Thomas, who regarded his great aunt with a wary eye and expression to match. “I cannot believe it has only been two months since his birth. He is enormous!”
A hand to Mrs. Philips’ elbow directed her towards him. “Aunt Philips, I would like to present my husband, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Fitzwilliam, this is my aunt, Edith Philips.”
He bowed and she gave a quick curtsy. “And this little one must be Thomas.” She gazed at their son until her face snapped back to them. “Oh! You must come inside! How rude of me to continue prattling on without a care as to whether you would be in want of some tea.”
He gave a wide grin to his wife, who laughed with her eyes as she took his arm. Elizabeth’s imitation of her mother began to make a great deal more sense.
Two long days were spent with Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle as they visited and caught up on the news of both families; however, they opted to remain at Longbourn the final day of their visit to Meryton. The Philips were invited to the dinner party that evening, and Elizabeth wished Thomas to have a less disrupted day before they travelled on to London.
Her stomach clenched in trepidation when Mr. Collins requested her presence in what was once her father’s book room. He gave no indication of why he wished to speak with her, and while his manner was his usual obsequious fawning, what could he desire that required privacy?
Fitzwilliam accompanied her at her request. His even composure and relaxed posture indicated he knew the reason behind the summons but he would reveal naught of what he knew. Mr. Collins’ motives were unclear, and she was wary of him due to the actions of his father.
“Mrs. Darcy,” he began in his usual snivelling manner. “When I acquired Longbourn from my esteemed father, I began to sort through many of the books in what was once your father’s library, and whilst I do not wish to speak ill of the dead, I find some of the works within this library distasteful and immoral. I had thought to burn the offending books, but your husband has offered to compensate me should you care to have some of them.” She pivoted her head towards her husband as her jaw dropped.
“I suggested, but I did not know he would agree until now.”
Mr. Collins motioned in the direction of several stacks of books set in a corner. “I have no wish to retain any of these. Please select what you would like, and I will discard the excess.”
Her husband’s gaze followed her as she moved to the precious books her father had adored. How could she only select a few and leave the rest for Collins to treat as rubbish?
“Eli
zabeth?”
Her trembling hand reached out to rest upon the top of the stack. The cover was familiar as she had read Homer and discussed his works many times with her father.
“Mr. Collins, if you will have a servant crate them, we will take the lot. I will have them sent on to Sagemore once we arrive in London.”
Her head swung to where her husband stood, observing her with concern. “Are you certain we have the space?”
He strode beside her, surveyed the stacks with a quick glance, and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “They should only take one or two crates, so we should be able to fit them between the two carriages. Hattie, James, and Mary do not travel with much, so there should be plenty of room on the top of their equipage.”
She removed the volume of Homer and flipped through the pages until she found one of her father’s handwritten notes in the margin. What Mr. Collins could find so objectionable to Homer was a mystery, but it was not of significance. Her fingers sought out and traced the delicate lines made by her father’s pen. A sob caught in her throat.
“Thank you.” Her voice was tremulous and came out as a whisper.
She closed the book and held it to her chest. “Thank you, Mr. Collins. Words cannot express our gratitude.”
The toady man appeared inordinately pleased with himself, and he gave a bow as she spoke.
Her husband steered her towards the door with a gentle touch. “Why do you not check on Thomas? I will arrange matters with Mr. Collins.”
With a nod, she made her way to the nursery. Thomas was sleeping, while Mary knitted as she rocked in the chair beside his cot. She spent a moment stroking his back to ensure he was well, but since she was not needed, she went to her former bedchamber for a moment to herself. The window seat was still a welcome spot to read, and she curled into her favourite niche as she opened her father’s book. Little time passed before the sound of the door drew her from the pages, departing Odysseus’ quest, as her husband stepped forward to take her in his embrace.
“Are you well?”
An Unwavering Trust Page 42