by Jane Grix
“I had hoped to see Elizabeth,” Georgiana said after sipping the tea he offered. “But Compton says she is not at home.”
“No, Mrs. Darcy is staying at Pemberley.”
“Without you?” Georgiana asked, surprised. “For how long?”
“For as long as I deem it appropriate.”
Georgiana said, “Don’t tell me you have quarrelled!”
“Why should you think that?”
“You sound as you used to – cold and autocratic. What have you done? Did you offend her?”
Darcy was goaded past endurance. “I am not the one at fault.”
“Men never think they are,” Georgiana said. “But it takes two to quarrel, and I know Elizabeth loves you. She would never purposely harm you.”
Darcy said stiffly, “She lied to me.”
“About what?”
“She is Elizabeth Bennet. Or was, before her marriage to Mr. Holt.”
Georgiana clapped her hands. “Truly? But that is marvellous. She is not dead then. Your first love has returned to you.”
“But she lied.”
“If she did lie, she must have had her reasons.”
Darcy had tried to understand her motives for weeks now. He said tightly, “She was in reduced circumstances. Her mother was running a gaming hell and her sister Lydia was married to George Wickham.”
Georgiana drew her breath in sharply. “Good heavens. George Wickham. Is he still causing trouble?”
“I believe so. And Elizabeth did not want to tell me.”
Georgiana said, “Of course she didn’t want to tell you. After my near elopement, you told me to tell no one. Not even my future husband. You said that Mr. Tipton might not marry me if I told him everything about my past. So why do you hold Elizabeth to a higher standard than your own sister?”
Darcy had not considered that. “Your situations were entirely different,” he said sharply, but considering what Elizabeth had told him, this was not true. Georgiana had nearly eloped with a scoundrel whereas Elizabeth had been raped. Not that he would tell Georgiana that.
He realized that he held Elizabeth to a higher standard because he considered her to be his equal and he was furious that she had not trusted him.
Georgiana said, “She did not want to anger you, and considering your response, her fears were justified. Look at you, sulking like a child.”
Georgiana sounded increasingly like their mother. He said hotly, “I am not sulking,” then added ruefully, “Perhaps I am.”
“You are not behaving as a kind and loving husband should. Banishing her to Pemberley. I realize that Elizabeth has disappointed you, but you were married for better for worse. You promised to love and to cherish her.”
Darcy nodded. She was right. Elizabeth was at fault for deceiving him, but he was at fault for not listening to her with charity. Tonight, he would rewrite his letter to Elizabeth, baring his soul. He smiled grimly at his little sister, who was not so little now. He asked, “How did you become so wise?”
Georgiana said, “I had a most excellent older brother.”
ELIZABETH SAT IN THE walled garden on one of the stone benches, reading. The oak tree was bare and the stark branches seemed to mirror her sombre mood. She wore a heavy pelisse and woollen shawl for the October air was cool, even when sheltered from the wind.
She had not heard from Darcy for weeks and she did not know what to do. She decided that if she did not hear from him by the beginning of December, she would write to him, asking him to come to Pemberley for Christmas.
Hopefully the season for Peace on Earth and goodwill toward men would help her cause.
“Elizabeth.”
She startled and looked up at the garden door to see Darcy. Like her, he wore winter clothing with boots and a coat with shoulder capes. He must have already stopped at the house for he was not wearing a hat.
Her heart leapt. She stood, dropping her book. She wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him, but she hesitated. “Mr. Darcy,” she said carefully.
He frowned. “Am I no longer your Fitzwilliam?”
She gave a half laugh that was almost a sob. “Have you forgiven me?” She searched his beloved face trying to read his expression.
He said, “It is I who must ask for forgiveness. You did not trust me with your secrets because I was untrustworthy.”
“No,” she protested. “I should have told you. I wanted to tell you so many times.”
He smiled at her. “I believe you. And I will forgive you if you will forgive my anger.”
Tears filled her eyes and she nodded. “Yes. Yes.”
He held out his arms and she walked into his embrace. They kissed and hugged, and Elizabeth was filled with peace at last.
In fact, the change in her emotions was so profound, she could not keep from crying. “Forgive me,” she said finally as she wiped at her eyes. “I don’t know why I am crying. I am happy. I truly am.”
He handed her a handkerchief. “I do not mind your tears. I feel like crying myself.”
She smiled. She did not believe him. She said, “My only consolation is that you cannot see how red and blotchy my face has become. I am not one of those women who cry prettily.” She blew her nose and said, “There. All better now. Thank you.”
Darcy put his finger under her chin and tilted her head up to face him. “I disagree,” he said solemnly. “You are pretty even when you cry. I consider you one of the handsomest women I have ever known.” He tenderly brushed an errant curl away from her face. “You were beautiful as a young woman, but you are even more beautiful now because you are my wife. I love you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth was afraid she might cry again. Darcy loved her. After all this time and all that they had been through, he loved her. She said, “I love you, too,” then realized what he had just said.
She looked at his glasses closely for the first time. Instead of the dark green lens, his glasses were clear, and the lenses were thicker. “Can you see me?”
“I can.”
She gasped. “You had the surgery?”
“I did.”
Elizabeth cried again. She could not help the tears from flowing. “Oh dear,” she said. “Was that why you stayed so long in London?”
“Yes.”
She suddenly struck his chest with her fist, surprising him. “But you could have died!” she said angrily.
He smiled and held her close to him. “I didn’t die.”
“But you could have. And even now, I could have been a widow, and I would have never known that you loved me.”
Darcy shook his head. “I wrote you a letter telling you that I loved you. Just in case.”
She tried to strike him again, but there was no room between them. She looked up at him and said, “Foolish, foolish man. Don’t you know that I would rather have you alive and well than dead with a nice letter?”
“I know. But I think I express myself better with letters.”
Suddenly shy, Elizabeth twisted a button on his coat. She said quietly, “I read your other letter at least a thousand times.”
“That seems like a lifetime ago. Did it make you think better of me?”
“It did.”
“I knew the letter would give you pain, but I meant well. I thought I was perfectly calm when I wrote it, but I realized later that I was still very bitter.”
Elizabeth said, “It began in bitterness, but it ended with charity.”
“You are the one who is charitable.”
“For years I wished that we could meet again and I could apologize for refusing you so rudely.”
“No,” he said. “I deserved everything you said. I was an arrogant young man. I should never have proposed in such an abominable way.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Actually, if truth be told, I preferred your first proposal. Better to be loved ardently than to be offered a marriage of friendship only.”
Darcy shook his head. “I never thought I would love again, but
you, Mrs. Darcy, Mrs. Holt or whatever you wish to be called, you bewitched me.” He kissed her again and looked down at her with eyes filled with affection. “How many women have the satisfaction of knowing that they have made their husband fall in love with them twice?”
Elizabeth looked up at the man that she loved more than anyone in the world. “I hope you stay in love with me forever.”
He said, “Do not worry. I am like the kingfisher. I am mated for life.” He tapped her nose. “But please, Elizabeth, let us have no more secrets.”
She nodded. “I agree. And speaking of mating . . .” She let her voice trail off.
His eyes brightened. “It is too cold to mate outside. We must go inside for that.”
She laughed. “That is not what I meant, although I am not declining that possibility.” She loosened her shawl to show him her slightly rounded stomach. She placed his hand upon the bump. “There will be a new Darcy soon.”
He gasped. “When?”
“In the spring.”
“How long have you known?”
“Weeks now. I did not want to tell you when you were gone –”
“When I was acting like a fool,” Darcy corrected.
“Shh,” Elizabeth said and put her fingers to his lips. “Do not say anything bad about the man I love.”
Darcy kissed her fingers and looked down at her. “Part of me finds it difficult to understand why you love me.”
She could say the same. They were both flawed, but their love for each other had made them better individuals. Elizabeth motioned toward Pemberley and smiled archly. “You have a very fine nest, Mr. Darcy.”
He laughed. “I’m glad you like it, Mrs. Darcy.”
EPILOGUE
Elizabeth was in her bedroom, assisted by Mrs. Gardiner, a midwife and several of Pemberley’s maids. Darcy had wanted to be at Elizabeth’s side for the birth, but Mrs. Lewis and Mrs. Gardiner had assured him that he would only be in the way, so he had held back. He had spent most of the past few hours in the library, pacing back and forth, waiting for news.
But eventually he could no longer endure being so far away from his wife, so he sat in a chair in the hallway outside her bedroom door. He tried not to think of all the things that could go wrong with a birth, but that was impossible. He thought of Elizabeth’s first child dying and her sister Jane dying after giving birth. Darcy knew that Elizabeth was worried, too, but she had acted brave to reassure him.
He prayed that God would protect both Elizabeth and their child.
After living so many years as a recluse, shut off from nearly everyone, Darcy was now living life to the fullest, and he wanted to share his life with Elizabeth.
As he waited, he thought of all the changes that had happened to them in the past few months. Wickham and Lydia had left for America, and Darcy had sold the London house so that the memory of the gaming hell would soon be forgotten. Mr. and Mrs. Denny, Elizabeth’s sister Mary, and the Gardiners had all visited Pemberley for Christmas. Darcy had agreed to invest in the Dennys’ snuff box business, which had made Elizabeth happy.
Georgiana was expecting again as well.
Darcy and Elizabeth had also called on the Bingleys when they were in London. The Bingleys responded with an invitation to the theatre. Darcy knew that his friendship with Bingley might not be as close as it once was, but he was glad that they had made the effort. Bingley had been thrilled to learn that Elizabeth was alive after all.
The most surprising recent development was that Mary was now engaged. She was engaged to marry one of the Holts, whom she had met through Elizabeth. Darcy thought that Mary’s experience running the gaming hell might be helpful in the Holts’ business ventures, and Elizabeth was amused to think that by her prior marriage, she was a step-grandmother to her own sister.
Suddenly a baby cried, and Darcy leapt to his feet. He felt as if his heart might burst from his chest, it was beating so. His child was born at last.
He reached for the bedroom door just as Mrs. Gardiner was exiting it.
She almost tripped over him. “Mr. Darcy!” she exclaimed.
“Is Elizabeth well?” he demanded.
“As well as can be expected,” Mrs. Gardiner said flatly.
“May I see her?”
“Not yet,” Mrs. Gardiner said but she smiled at him, which reassured him.
He craned his neck, trying to look past her into the bedroom. “And the baby?”
“Your son is very healthy and strong.”
Darcy beamed. “A son?” He had told Elizabeth many times that he did not care whether the child was a boy or a girl, but now that he knew he had a son, he felt a surge of pride. It was very satisfying to know that the Darcy name would continue through his son.
It was another half an hour before he could join Elizabeth. She looked tired but happy as she lay in her bed with her head propped up on several pillows. Her hair was neatly smoothed back into a lace cap and she wore a freshly pressed nightgown that buttoned up to her neck.
As for himself, any day where he could see her beautiful face was a miracle. He was filled with gratitude that Elizabeth Bennet was his wife and the mother of his child.
“What do you think of our son?” she asked gently.
The newest Darcy was red-faced and crying, which was a good sign according to Mrs. Gardiner. “He has excellent lungs,” Darcy said.
Elizabeth smiled. “It is good to hear a baby cry.”
Darcy kissed her hand. “And you? Are you well?”
She nodded. “I am,” she assured him.
“You know I love you,” he said.
Her eyes sparkled with appreciation. After their reconciliation, Elizabeth had asked him to share his thoughts more often, so now he told her that he loved her every day. He did not want her to have any doubts.
“And I, you,” she returned.
He nodded. Her love for him was the greatest blessing of his life.
One of the maids interrupted their exchange to ask Darcy if he would like to hold his son.
Darcy was initially afraid that he might drop the baby, but the infant was wrapped securely in a blanket and made a safe bundle. Darcy rocked the baby slightly and eventually he quieted. Darcy felt absurdly pleased with himself.
“I see that you will be an excellent father,” Elizabeth teased.
Darcy looked down at his child. He and Elizabeth had discussed several possibilities for names, but they had not made a final decision yet. He said, “I think he has Lady Catherine’s chin.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Oh, no.”
“But I am not concerned. He has your eyes.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Dear Readers:
I hope you enjoyed Darcy’s Secret Garden. I liked writing a story with a slightly older, happily married Georgiana giving Darcy some much needed advice.
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I love to hear from you. You can email me at [email protected] or leave a review. Reviews encourage me to write faster.
Happy reading,
JANE GRIX
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