"Upstairs," he ordered his wife, scooped Jane up and walked on without looking back. He only heard Elizabeth's book fell on the floor when she got up.
"Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth said uncertainly, trotting up the steps after him. "Are you all right? Is something wrong?"
He held the bedroom door open, and then closed it after her. Unlike most wealthy families, they didn't have a huge domestic staff and the servants they had were trusted and discreet. Mrs. Reynolds ran the house with the help of a few maids and Lillian, a cook, two grooms and the butler. Jane had a nursemaid, but between Lillian, Elizabeth, and Darcy, the woman seldom had much to do aside from laundering diapers. There was also a gardener, two footmen, stable and errand boys but not the legions of servants most households thought they required. Fewer people around had meant fewer people to explain Anne's behaviour. The house wasn't full of servants but Darcy never felt comfortable enough to talk about very private and delicate subjects outside his rooms.
"What is wrong, Fitzwilliam?" she asked again, her voice softer. Normally, she'd have objected to being ordered around like a servant but this time she didn't. Just as she knew when to push him, she knew when not to push. "What has happened?"
"I have to go to Hillcrest. I have to leave right away."
"All- All right," she answered nervously. "But what has happened? Someone is ill?"
"No. And no one has to know. I'm going to Derby on business if anyone asks."
"Fitzwilliam, will you tell me what has happened?"
"Georgiana."
"Georgiana?" She paused briefly, waiting for an explanation.
"Georgiana is at Hillcrest."
"Why?"
"I don't know exactly. I got a vague note from lady Eleonora that she is with her and that Georgiana wanted to leave for America."
"America? Dear heavens! But why? How? Do you have relatives there?"
"She got hysteric over something, I need to see her." Darcy took a few breaths before he added, "I thought her staying with Lady Catherine will help but it is worse. It wasn't smart decision allowing her to live with the woman who is losing her mind." He finished, took a deep breath and kissed the chubby cheek of the girl who was watching him with her big sparkling eyes.
"Papa?" Jane asked happily and touched his nose. Darcy kissed her tiny palm.
Elizabeth bit her lower lip. "Do you want me to go with you? Let the maid pack some things for Jane and we will go with you."
He shook his head tersely. "No, stay here. Here, take her. I'll bring Georgiana home." Elizabeth took Jane, and the baby cried immediately losing arms of her papa.
"I'll be back soon," he repeated, walking out of their bedroom without looking back at his wife and crying baby who was calling after him.
Chapter 6
“No man ever steps in the same river twice,
For it's not the same river
And he's not the same man.”
- Heraclitus
He wasn't certain what to say or do, and when that was the case, he usually said and did too much. He'd lost a sweet, trusting, chatterbox of a girl and found silent, anxious young woman and he wasn't sure what to do with her.
"I didn't know you wanted to go to America," Darcy had continued after a maid laid out a tray with the meal on the table. "Do you know you wouldn't survive one day without my help there?" Still angry couldn't resist the comment when the maid left Georgiana's room. "Entirely alone without man's protection you would end up in a brothel and that would be the best option for you there. Mrs. Young wouldn't help you there as she is only a companion and just proved she wasn't trusted."
Georgiana looked at him numbly. Her handsome face seemed more angular, watchful, without its girlish roundness and innocence. Her eyes looked as though they'd witnessed a thousand years of pain.
"Do you understand what I am telling you?" Darcy sighed. The girl focused on her plate. "Aunt Catherine is having difficulty understanding all that's happening. She's confused with the things. You know that, don't you? She doesn't deserve to be treated that way. I thought I taught you good manners. You could just apologise. You don't run away when things get badly." The girl nodded, that she understood, but Darcy wasn't sure about it. "A stealing your aunt's jewellery was an awful thing to do, Georgiana."
The girl still didn't respond.
"I talked with Aunt Eleonore. You will stay here for a few weeks, then you are going back to Pemberley." There was still no response except a nod.
"Why did you leave home, Georgie? Why did you want to leave your family and your life and run away without a word?" he asked finally. His sister looked up and he waited while Georgiana seemed to search for words, trying several times but said nothing.
"I missed you so much. And was worried about you." He trailed off, swallowing although his mouth was empty. The girl's face twitched, and he glanced around the room. Looking lost he left her room without more words.
*~~*~~*
His sister turned her head toward the window of their aunt's parlour. "I forget that home is real." Georgiana suddenly said when Darcy lost all hope. "Everything feels different. I feel different, wrong."
He put his fist to his mouth as if waiting for a cough. As much as he didn't want to admit it, the change in his sister frightened him. From the time she'd learned to walk, Georgiana had been an active, happy child. Talented. Kindhearted. There was a wall around her now and he knew what it took to build walls that high.
"You're still my Georgie," he whispered. "You just need some time."
His sister looked at him briefly, vacantly and went back to staring out the window.
"Georgie, I need to tell you something. Maybe you have heard from your aunts but-" he started awkwardly. He'd spent hours trying to think of a way to approach the subject, waiting for an opportunity, but there didn't seem to be a gentle segue. "I'm married, Georgie. I've remarried. Her name is Elizabeth."
He wasn't sure what reaction to expect, but he got absolutely none. He wanted to ask if she had heard him but she was sitting across from him. Obviously, she had.
"Her name is Elizabeth," Darcy repeated. "She's from the Hertfordshire but I met her in Scotland. She's, she's nice. A little headstrong but nice. She's not at all like Anne but I think you'll like her. I like her."
"Do you love her?"
"I… care for her. Very much. We have a... There's a little girl named Jane. And, uh…" He stopped, changing his mind. That was enough news for the time being.
"You and your wife have a daughter?"
"She's-" Darcy stopped speaking and exhaled slowly. "She's just learning to walk."
Georgiana was quiet for few minutes then finally said, "I'm glad."
"Are you?"
"I don't know," the girl answered tiredly. "I don't know what I am."
Georgiana pulled the shade down over the window, blocking out the orange and violet sunset, and had left the parlour just before Lady Eleonore entered the room.
"Give her some time, Fitzwilliam." She tried to reassure her nephew." The girl got through so much and being with Catherine seemed only worsen her state of mind."
Darcy hid face in his hands. "Just one step at a time. You told me that almost two years ago and look where she is now."
"You left Pemberley for you private… quest. You left her, Fitzwilliam. You left her with crazy Catherine though you could wait one more month for my return from Paris. Don't be surprised now. This couldn't end well."
"Yeah. I got it now." He answered irritated. "I am going home. It's obvious I am not needed here." He got up from his seat, kissed his aunt's cheek and walked to the door.
"Give her time." His aunt repeated, and he left the parlour.
*~~*~~*
Although he'd rather she hadn't, Lillian met him in the front door, taking his hat and stick and asking about his business trip. He didn't respond except to ask, "Where's Elizabeth?"
"In the nursery. She-"
Darcy held up his hand, not interested in a litany of all
the things she believed Elizabeth had done wrong in the last two days. Lillian always had a long list of objections against his wife, most of which boiled down to Elizabeth not being Anne.
"Are you hungry?" She called as he trudged up the stairs. "Fitzwilliam?"
He shook his head and kept walking.
The nursery door was open and Elizabeth was just putting Jane down for her afternoon nap. He leaned against the doorframe, watching them. When she looked up, he turned away, continuing to their bedroom.
He sat heavily on the sofa, elbows on his knees, head hanging tiredly, fingertips pressed against his forehead. He felt beaten. Empty. If keeping his heart and lungs pumping had required effort, he couldn't have managed it.
He heard Elizabeth entering their room.
"How is she?"
"She has changed so much, Elizabeth. It hurts."
"But is she well?"
He didn't respond and there was a long silence as he stared at the floor. He massaged his forehead, trying to get his headache to subside. If he pressed his fingers against his eyelids, he saw orange and red and black swirling patterns, like watching flames at night.
"Sit back," Elizabeth's voice asked softly. "I will help you undress and you can lie down. You will be more comfortable."
She knelt on the floor in front of him, unbuttoning his waistcoats and shirt. As she pushed the wrinkled fabric back from his shoulders, there was a soft knock at the bedroom door and Lillian entered, asking if he was all right.
"You may go," Elizabeth answered, unbuttoning his cuffs and stripping off his sleeves, then undershirt so he was bare from the waist up. He moved like a sleepy child, minimally cooperative. "We want to be alone."
Lillian stepped into the bedroom like she belonged there, ignoring Elizabeth.
"Fitzwilliam? What's wrong? What's happened?"
"Lillian, go downstairs," Elizabeth repeated firmly.
"Something's wrong. He needs me."
"I'm well," Darcy mumbled, his voice sounding foreign to him. "Elizabeth will take care of me."
Lillian shook her head. "No, I'll make tea and-"
"He's not your husband! He doesn't need you! Now do what he told you. Get out of our bedroom and go downstairs!" Mrs. Darcy snapped not even looking at the woman. "Now!"
There was a pause, then the bedroom door closed and Lillian's angry footsteps faded away down the hall.
"She's going to put one of her magic spells on you," he warned tiredly, filling the silence.
"If her magics worked, you would be in love with her ten times over," she responded crisply.
He tried to chuckle, but failed and bit his trembling lower lip as the dam around his heart cracked. "She hates me," he mumbled. "She hates me."
"She loves you. You are her brother. You are like a father to her."
He shook his head slowly. "She was so sweet girl," he said, biting his lip harder than his nose dripped. "Now she is a shadow of that child."
"We will help her. Maybe Lady Eleonore will help her..."
He shook his head again, his chin trembling uncontrollably. He looked up, his face crumpling and tears welling up in the corners of his eyes.
"Please go away," he repeated miserably but she wouldn't. As shameful as crying was, it was even worse to do it in front of a woman. And as angry as it made him, he couldn't stop.
Elizabeth tried to wipe his cheeks, but he jerked away. He wanted to shout at her she didn't understand because she didn't know what he suffered but she knew exactly what he felt.
"Do you know she stole jewellery from aunt Catherine? She greased her companion's palm and wanted to do the same with the footman for taking her to Liverpool. She didn't have money, nothing, but she wanted to ship to America anyway because Lady Catherine said something to her. And Catherine has a serious problem with memory and talk sometimes with no sense."
"But she ended up at Hillcrest."
"Because I have a very loyal servant, Elizabeth. And he worked for my uncle once so when they crossed Hillcrest's land he just turned the carriage to the back door of my aunt's home. Thank God the Earl is in London now. But I had to fire Mrs. Young."
He swallowed then sobbed in earnest, leaning forward again and covering his head with both hands, as though trying to shield himself from stones being hurled at him. Her fingers continued stroking his hair.
*~~*~~*
He just finished the talk with Mr. Hockins when Elizabeth entered the study.
"Elizabeth?" He said. "Is everything well? Good God, what's wrong? Is Jane all right?"
"Jane is fine. Everything is fine. I just wanted to talk to you." Just then she noticed his steward walking towards her. Mr. Hockins left the room immediately, bowing to Mrs. Darcy and leaving them alone.
"You were busy. Forgive me. I shouldn't have come. We can talk later."
"Elizabeth, you're already here. What is it you want to talk about?"
"No, we can talk later, it really isn't that important and can wait."
"No, we can talk now and I’ve finished talk with Mr. Hockins anyway." he responded, annoyed with the butterflies in his stomach. "Whatever's on your mind, I'd like for you to just say it. And I will apologise, say I don't know what I was thinking, promise it won't happen again and that will be that."
"I am with child." She blurted out.
"Oh," he exhaled and moved his lips silently a few more times. He didn't expect that. His knees felt weak, so he sat on the top his desk, staring at her in wonder. "Are you certain?"
"I just saw the midwife Mrs. Reynolds recommended."
"Oh," he said again, a broad smile spreading across his face as her news sunk in. "Good God. You're going to have a baby. We're going to have a baby. Dear God, sit down." He hopped down from the desk and shoved a stack of files off a wooden chair, offering it to her. "How far?"
"About two months, I think."
"Two months, that's, that's a winter baby. Christmas maybe. Sit down, Elizabeth."
"I need not sit down. I feel fine."
"Sit down. Make me feel better. I don't feel fine."
She sat down, smoothing her skirt and then looking at him like babies were a perfectly normal part of life.
"You're certain?" he asked again.
"Yes Fitzwilliam, I am certain."
He stared at her like she might look differently than she had a few hours earlier. They, he and Elizabeth, were going to have a child together. They had Jane, but this time he had been present at the conception instead of just the birth. It was real. They, he and Elizabeth, and their new baby. They were real.
"I'm taking you to our rooms," he announced. "So you can rest."
"I am not tired. There is no need-"
"Would it be unreasonable if I carried you?"
Her mouth twitched as she tried not to laugh at him. "Are you going to be like this for the next seven months?"
"Oh no, I am going to get much worse."
*~~*~~*
"Bas bleu," he teased Elizabeth, who was curled up in the library with her nose in a book. "Bluestocking," he translated when she glanced up.
His wife looked down at her white silk stocking feet, only her toes peeking out from under the blanket. She pondered briefly and went back to reading.
"A literary woman," he emphasised and she "um-hummed" him.
Jane was tired and fussy, so he sank into the upholstered leather armchair beside Elizabeth, settled the girl against his chest, and propped his sock feet up to the fire.
"Do you want me to read it to you?" he offered.
"No, I want to," she mumbled, not really listening. He watched her lips move as she tried to sound out a word and asked, "A Treatment of Typhoid Fever? Why do you read that?"
She clung to the journal as if she expected him to snatch it from her.
"Because I want to."
"All right, Miss Difficult. I was expecting Maria Edgeworth's "Belinda", but read whatever you like. I'm just wondering why you find Typhoid Fever, of all things, so fascinating."<
br />
"It killed my sister."
Jane coughed and went back to sucking her thumb. Her eyelids grew heavier with each blink. He rubbed her back, watching Elizabeth out of the corner of his eye.
"I didn't know."
She buried her nose in the journal again, pretending she hadn't heard him. "She died," she responded when he continued to look at her questioningly, "of Typhoid Fever. I was nineteen. She was twenty-one."
"What was her name?"
"Jane."
He exhaled and kissed Jane's head, which was now resting comfortable under his chin. He waited but Elizabeth didn't seem inclined to discuss it. Asking would be a waste of breath, so he left one hand on Jane's back and picked up his book with the other.
"Mr. Daniels had asked her to marry him," she added several minutes later, as though it was information she'd just recalled. He lowered the book, turning his head toward her.
"And when she died, he asked you," he guessed softly.
"Yes." She inhaled. "My parents were opposite to the match. My mother was angry because she thought after Jane's death Mr. Daniels will ask one of her youngest daughters though they were still very young. And my father..." she stopped for the moment searching for right words, "My father was disappointed with my choice. He agreed to the marriage but said I will regret it later."
"So you don't want to go see your parents because of your pride? Because your father was right?"
"Because they broke off the contact with me. Yes."
Jane yawned and surrendered to her nap, warm and safe against her father’s chest. He waited but Elizabeth continued to stare at her book. Her lips and eyes weren't moving though. She wasn't really reading.
"I did it because couldn't live in that house without Jane". She said finally. "I didn't love him but he was intelligent and I liked our discussions. I wanted to believe because Jane loved him, he was a good man."
"It wouldn't have been different if he'd married your sister."
Mr Darcy's Second Chance Page 11