by Wells, Linda
“He never wanted to be in the first circles, he just wanted the girls to marry well.” Bingley shrugged. “His aspirations are not the same. He is a fairly wealthy man in his own right.”
“He has me beat.” Robinson said from his perch in the bedchamber. “Well, maybe I am a bit above him.”
“I do not think there is any question there. How was Abbey?” Darcy asked quietly. “Elizabeth was worried about her.”
“Elizabeth saved the whole debacle.” Bingley stepped over to Darcy. “Again.” He saw his friend’s continued worry. “She is fine, Darcy, truly. We stayed up quite late talking; she thought that I might want to end the engagement.”
“After that kiss?” Fitzwilliam smiled. “That sealed it.”
“It would net me a healthy purse if you did …” Layton laughed when they all turned to stare at him. “Ha! You believed me!”
“Quiet.” Hurst walked into the room, his son in his arms. “Samuel is trying to sleep.”
“He would do better if he were in his nursery.” Layton pulled back the blanket to peek at him. “Handsome lad, Hurst.”
“Well done.” Fitzwilliam whispered.
“I pray for your same outcome. All is well in this house.” Darcy caressed the soft cheek and touched his hair. “Do you fight Louisa for holding rights?”
“I suppose all of you know the feeling.” He looked around the room and smiled. “I am a fool, but I have waited a long time for this.” He kissed his son’s forehead. “I will stop showing off.” They watched him leave the room and exchanged knowing smiles.
“You are next.” Fitzwilliam clapped Bingley’s shoulder. “I bet … yes, a honeymoon baby.”
“Oh no, I would say first anniversary.” Layton looked around for a pen and paper. “Robinson?”
“No.” He tilted his head, sizing up his brother. “Second anniversary.”
“Thank you for your faith!” Bingley protested. “Darcy, save me!”
“As long as they both are healthy.” He smiled and offered his hand then embraced him. “Many blessings, Brother.”
“What no teasing, no good natured attacks on my manhood?” Bingley let go and grinned. “What has become of you?”
“I know how much you want this. Come on, let us get you married.” Darcy smiled and opened the door. They walked down to the parlour to join the small gathering of family and friends.
Bingley stopped to kiss Louisa, and taking his place beside Reverend Nelson, stood straight, looking to the back of the room. Mr. Martin entered with Abbey on his arm, her head draped with the very finest lace he could find. Stoically he walked forward and put her hand in Bingley’s and stepped back to stand with his happily sobbing wife. Darcy and Elizabeth stood beside the couple, and the simple service began. Through it all, neither of them moved, they scarcely blinked, let alone breathed. They just held tightly onto the hands in their grasp, as if letting go would send the other straight to the floor. At last the ring was given and the vows declared. Nobody fainted, fell asleep, or lost track of time. It was done, and the room filled with applause and calls of congratulations.
“I think Mrs. Bingley, that since we are not in church, I may kiss you.”
“Is that all you have been thinking about?” Abbey gasped. “I know that you were not paying attention.”
“How do you know? Did I miss any lines?” He laughed and lifted her veil up and over her head.
“I do not think so; I was too busy watching you.” She laughed when he drew her into his arms and gave her a chaste kiss.
“I promise to improve on that.” He smiled and hugged her to him and soon they were both receiving hugs and handshakes from one and all. Darcy smiled at Elizabeth and looked back to see Kitty furiously sketching and Georgiana standing quietly by her side. He felt Elizabeth’s hand slip into his grasp.
“That was easy.” Elizabeth leaned onto him. “This is what we were going to have.”
“Yes, precisely what we were to have.” He looked down to her and rubbed her ring with his thumb. “Well the end result is the same.”
“I think that they will be happy.”
“I am certain of it.”
Bingley and Abbey appeared before them both grinning like fools. “Now what do we do?”
Abbey laughed and nudged him. “Well there is a small matter of a breakfast to enjoy.”
“Yes!” He laughed and called, “Come on everyone, let us eat!” He led the way to the dining room.
Behind them Darcy and Elizabeth heard voices, “That is it, let us eat.” Fitzwilliam chuckled.
Layton laughed, “The sooner we eat …”
“The sooner the guests go …”
Robinson smiled, “And the sooner the guests go …”
Hurst snorted, “The sooner they go …” Darcy turned around and raised one brow.
“Still time to get in on the wager, Darcy!” Fitzwilliam waved a slip of paper at him. Evangeline stepped up from behind and snatching it away gave it to Alicia who in turn tossed it to Elizabeth. She neatly wadded it into a ball and threw it into the fire. The three women looked at the men smugly. Fitzwilliam cleared his throat. “I believe I could use some cake …”
Chapter 30
25 June 1807
Today I returned home from my Grand Tour only to learn that my brief time of frivolity as a gentleman is now over. I have reached the age of two and twenty and at this moment I feel that I am closer to the age of two and eighty. My father has told me he is dying, and I am to take over Pemberley immediately. God help me.
I can barely comprehend this news. Yesterday afternoon I stepped onto the docks after nine months away, full of the wonders that I had seen. I knew that my return to London meant that I must at last take my place in society, and I had been steeling myself for the attention I knew I would draw as father’s heir. I have both dreaded and anticipated this time, but I thought that I would have my father with me as my guide. I pray that his physician is wrong, and the malady is just a passing event. I have never recovered from Mother’s passing, what will I do if Father leaves me as well? What will I be for Georgiana? Will I destroy Pemberley with my poor management?
I walked today in Hyde Park and tried to clear my head from the overwhelming news. I saw nothing of the beauty, and felt only the fear that I would fail. And then I heard a sound that broke through my pain. A laugh, so warm, so musical, it lifted my eyes from my boots and I saw before me a girl, smiling and laughing, and looking at me. Her name is Lizzy, which must be for Elizabeth. She is from Hertfordshire and an estate called Longbourn. She has relatives in London named Gardiner who live in Gracechurch Street. She loves walking and books. She is very young. And she smiled at me today. I hope that someday I might return the gift.
“And so it began.” Darcy closed the cover on the well-thumbed journal and smoothed his hand over the leather. “How far we have come.” He looked across the quiet study to the sofa where Elizabeth lay sleeping, covered with the blanket he had carefully tugged from beneath her legs. Her belly was ripe and she had at last confessed to feeling a slight ache that she knew came not from carrying her burden. Neither did the feeling come from the unending curiosity and prodding that Rosalie inflicted upon her as she demanded that her mother stop hiding the baby. Smiling, he sat back and thought of the morning when Rosalie had called to the baby to come and play, then pressed her ear against Elizabeth’s belly to listen for an answer, only to receive a kick in the cheek. He chuckled and remembered her affront and how her little hands landed on her hips, such a mirror of her mother.
Darcy’s smile faded when he then thought of the hastily hidden letter he saw Millie giving to Adams. He knew what it was, Elizabeth’s last love letter to him, just in case … “No.” He straightened, determinedly opening his current journal and taking a few moments to settle his emotions and gather his thoughts; he stared at the blank page and willed words to start flowing from his pen. Elizabeth sighed and he looked up to find her smiling at him sleepily, then settling ba
ck against the pillow, she drifted off again. Darcy’s smile returned and he dipped the pen into the ink.
9 March 1812
I have spent the better part of this day in the company of my quietly labouring wife. Oh, she wants to be up and about, dusting for nonexistent cobwebs. No doubt given the opportunity she would be redecorating the laundry or perhaps building an addition to the conservatory or milking the cows on the home farm, all items she has declared to be of vital importance at various moments of insanity over the last weeks. But it was her insatiable need to give and receive pleasure last night, and then this morning, when I arose to find her on hands and knees polishing the floor of the nursery next to her abandoned chambers that has convinced me, our baby will come today.
Your antics both amuse and scare me out of my wits dearest, but I cherish the gift of your passionate, nearly desperate display of desire. I know that it was as much reassurance for both of us as it was your way of giving me one last memory to keep me alive should
Darcy stopped and squeezed his eyes shut, and determinedly crossed out his last thought. “She does not need to read that and you do not need to think it. Come on Darcy, be cheerful, be positive! You are expanding your family today! Could you have imagined that was possible nearly five years ago in the park?” He wiped his face and determinedly resumed writing.
So where shall we have this child, love? The glade is impossible, and no amount of pleading will work on my emotions this time. I know for a fact that our cousins and brothers have a wager of significant proportions in place, and I could gain great favour with them if I chose to direct you to some particular locations. The ballroom is a favourite, all of those mirrors! You could watch our baby being born! Can you imagine whose idea that was? Of course it was Richard. He did name a secondary location; however, that holds much more realistic possibilities. My preference is
“Pardon me, sir.” Mrs. Reynolds knocked and whispered. “The midwife has arrived, although she is a little bemused, since we told her Mrs. Darcy is not labouring.”
“Tell her that Mrs. Darcy delivered very quickly last time, and we wish to be prepared.” He looked over to her. “I am sure it will be today, she has not complained of more than an ache, but I do believe the process is well-begun. When she wakes, we will have the midwife examine her.”
“Yes, sir. I will settle her in the kitchen with some tea.” Mrs. Reynolds looked at Elizabeth worriedly. Darcy raised his brows and she disappeared.
“Perhaps we should have brought Jane here for you.” He sighed.
“Now why would you want to do that?” Elizabeth spoke but did not open her eyes. “She does not need to travel for three days with a baby any more than we do, especially in winter.”
Darcy chuckled and tossing his pen in the tray, closed his journal. “I thought that she would bring comfort.”
“All I need is you.” She looked at him and smiled to see his warm eyes upon her. “So you have dragged poor Mrs. Barker here before there is anything to do.”
“Is there truly nothing to do?” He tilted his head and watched her carefully. Beneath the smile fixed on her lips; he saw her eyes give away the truth. “You are hurting, love. And have been for hours.”
“I am fine.” She said determinedly.
“No, you are not. For you to be lying still, I know that the pain is great, but I have played along with your denial long enough.” Rising from his chair he knelt beside her and massaging her back, smiled to see the relief he brought. “Can you walk or shall I carry you?”
“Where?”
“Upstairs, to our chambers, you know; the traditional location for giving birth?”
“And why on earth would I want to do anything remotely traditional?” Darcy groaned and concentrated on the massage to keep from voicing his opinion. She smiled to see the worry on his handsome face change to frustration and decided to tease him some more. “That ballroom idea …”
“How do you know about that?”
“Eva writes to me, you know.”
“Of course.” Darcy leaned down and kissed her. “It is cold in there.”
“It is warm in here.” His eyes opened wide and he stared around the room. Elizabeth giggled and reached forward to take his face in her hands. “Fitzwilliam.”
“Yes?” He sighed and gave in to her need to kiss, and breathing in deeply, rested his head on her pillow to look at her nose to nose. “You are wearing the orange perfume. That is not kind.”
“It is what remains in my hair from last night.”
“I would think that it was rubbed off.” His hands smoothed over her. “It will be such a long wait for you again.” Darcy groaned when she delicately traced his lips with her tongue. “Lizzzzzzy.”
“I think that we will manage.” She kissed him and winding her fingers into his hair suckled his throat.
“Dearest … what that does to me, and I can barely walk as it is.” Her tender kisses wiped away the thoughts of her labouring. Darcy moaned and kissed her deeply, and reaching to caress her breast, startled to feel milk on his hands. He drew her closer when abruptly; she took a sharp breath and clutched his arms. Immediately the mood changed. “Elizabeth?”
“OH!” She gasped and her face reflected the sudden onslaught of undeniable pain.
“Oh Lord!” Darcy cried and turned to the door. “Mrs. Reynolds! Somebody!” He turned back to her in time to see her curl up into a ball and whimper. “Dearest? Is it coming fast?” She nodded and panted, her eyes opening wide and then squeezing shut as she finally gave voice to the agony of the intense contraction.
“Oh … I … I am wet!” She gasped and Darcy looked to her dress, it was soaking. “Oh it hurts!”
“Sweetheart …” Darcy quickly removed his coat and rolled up his sleeves. “What am I to do with you? Can we make it upstairs?”
“Noooo!” She screamed and panting she shook her head, “Will, it is like with Rosa, it is so fast … oh … oh … so … oh, Will, it feels so …” She reached for his hands and stared into his eyes. “I want your hands on me, Will, no one else. Only you.” She gasped again and cried out. “OHHH!”
Whipping the blanket from her, he laid it over the bare wood of the floor before the fire. He looked around desperately and pulled over an overstuffed hassock, and piled pillows against it. Then standing above her, he shook his head, and scooped her up in his arms to carry her over to her makeshift birthing bed. “You did this on purpose.”
“Yes.” She grimaced and held her breath.
“Breathe, Lizzy, breathe.” He whispered and kissed her. “I am going to look and see.” She nodded and he lifted her skirt above her knees. Looking back up, he stared at her. “How long have you been labouring? You are ready to give birth.”
“Not too …” His look demanded the truth. “A half hour after you collapsed in exhaustion from our lovemaking.” She smiled and took his hand in hers. Darcy groaned, but could not hold back his smile. When he looked back to her, he found his handkerchief and wiped the tears running down her face before wiping his own.
“You had this planned all along.” He chastised her gently. “Dearest I am no midwife, I am just …”
“I trust you.” He closed his eyes against the burden she had given him, and listened to how much she truly had planned ahead. “I knew that you sent for the midwife, I knew help would be here if you needed it. I just prefer you. I want you.”
“Lizzy.” He sighed and kissed her softly, and kissed her palm when she caressed his face. “We must remember this, dear. It is proven fact now that repeated lovemaking induces labour for you.” He sniffed and wiped his eyes again, and held her hands as she squeezed hard and cried out. The sound of running feet could be heard but he focussed on her contorted face. “Breathe, dearest. You are safe, I will not leave you.”
“He is coming …” She gasped and pushed, and screamed.
“Mrs. Darcy!” The midwife flew in. “What are you doing here? Mr. Darcy move away, I will …”
“You
will watch and direct me.” He said calmly, never taking his eyes from Elizabeth and watching for the baby’s head to crown. “I will deliver the baby.”
“Mr. Darcy, I strenuously object!” Mrs. Barker declared. “You have no business …”
“Ohhhhhhhhhh Willl!” Elizabeth cried and pushed hard. The baby’s head appeared and disappeared again.
“You are doing fine, love.” Darcy forced his voice to remain strong. “We have done this before; you will be wonderful.” He glanced at Mrs. Barker pulling things from her satchel. She opened a bottle and waved it under Elizabeth’s nose. The scent of lavender filled the air and Elizabeth visibly calmed. He drew a deep breath and without thinking, massaged over her, relaxing the muscles and willing the baby’s head to return. Noticing Mrs. Barker’s look of surprise at his action he murmured, “I have read a great deal about techniques to aid birth.” He had almost begun to feel confident when he saw that the knife the midwife had laid out was crusted with blood. “You!” He bellowed. “You will not touch my wife with that blade. Mrs. Reynolds!”
“Yes sir!” She ran off to call for a knife.
“See here, Mr. Darcy, I have delivered more babies than you have …”
“Not at Pemberley, madam. We do not tolerate filth here.” Elizabeth’s cry brought his attention back to the baby and with a mighty push and excruciating scream, the head was suddenly delivered. Darcy’s relief was cut short by Mrs. Barker’s immediate reaction.
“The cord!” She started to reach forward and Darcy spotted the problem, the cord was wrapped around the baby’s throat. He looked at her for direction. “Lift it away, do not pull!” Gingerly, Darcy slipped a finger beneath the cord and lifted the loop over the baby’s head. “That’s it, sir. Now wipe the eyes and mouth.” Ignoring the unknown towel she presented, he supported the head with one hand and untied his cravat with the other, using the pristine white cloth to gently clean the face. “Be grateful this is not her first child, sir.” Mrs. Barker whispered, staring at the size of the baby’s head in proportion to Elizabeth’s body.