“Miss Elizabeth, how wonderful to see you! Yes, yes, I know it is Mrs. Darcy now,” he boomed with a stout laugh, “but you shall forever be little Miss Lizzy to me.”
Elizabeth smiled warmly. “For you I will allow it, Mr. Trask. How is your wife, sir? Still putting up with you, or has she finally come to her senses and run away?”
Trask laughed, slapping his knee. “I see married life has not tamed that wit of yours, Miss Elizabeth! Well done! Your poor husband, to be saddled with such a wench!”
Lizzy assumed a mournful face. “Yes, it is a tragic affair. It is merely a matter of time ere a cell at Bedlam will be his home.”
The bantering went on for a bit more, interrupted by the entrance of Trask's son, Reynaud, the recipient of eighteen-year-old Lizzy's crush. She smiled inwardly, blushingly remembering her and Darcy's confessions of first loves and the pleasant aftermath in his study. She laughed at the past now, tremendously thankful that Reynaud had ignored her then. He glanced at her briefly and then returned for an open-mouthed stare.
“Son, you remembered Miss Elizabeth Bennet surely. Quit gaping and say hello, only be sure to address her as Mrs. Darcy or she may bite off your head!”
“Mrs. Darcy. It is nice to see you again.”
“Thank you, Mr. Trask. Are you well?”
“Quite well, thank you. How do you find… Derbyshire, was it not?”
“Correct. It is beautiful. Colder than here in the winter, with more snow, but so lovely. I understand you married recently to the former Miss Traverston.” The pleasantries continued for a bit, Trask the elder interrupting frequently to match wits with Lizzy.
Exiting the shop, Lizzy was in high spirits as they turned to proceed down the lane. It was a beautiful day, warm but not uncomfortably so, a light breeze cooling to the skin. Nonetheless, Lizzy suddenly experienced a rush of heat flow through her. She fanned herself vigorously to no avail, the flush increasing, and she grasped at Jane's arm frantically as her head began to swim alarmingly and her knees to buckle.
“Jane, I must sit down!” Luckily, there was a bench a few feet away, though Lizzy was barely sitting before faintness consumed and her world turned black. Jane efficiently took charge, sending Kitty into the nearest shop, the haberdashery, for water. Georgiana hastily assumed the task of fanning her sister-in-law, while Mary left to call for the carriage. Mrs. Bennet sat next to her daughter, dithering and chattering, but confidently and correctly announcing that the swoon was a classic symptom of pregnancy.
“Oh, yes! My nerves were horrible when I was with child. I fainted dead away more times than I can remember! Why, once I was in church and…”
Georgiana worriedly interrupted, “Perhaps we should alert my brother? He is only down the street a ways.”
“No,” Lizzy spoke weakly, “I do not wish to disturb his entertainment. This is perfectly normal, as Mama said.” Kitty returned with a glass of cool water, and Jane drenched her handkerchief to daub on Lizzy's forehead then insisted she drink the rest.
Georgiana was not convinced. “Elizabeth, he will be angry that we did not inform him. You know how he is!”
Lizzy snorted, “Oh, yes, Georgie. I know how he is! Never you mind, dearest. I will inform him, simply later instead of now, and will accept the wrath as it comes. I can deal with William.”
When the slightly tipsy and high-spirited Darcy and Bingley returned to Netherfield, barely in time to change before needing to leave for Longbourn, they discovered Jane, Georgiana, and Mary dressed and reposing in the parlor. Darcy naturally swept the room for his wife, turning his questioning gaze to Jane.
“Is Elizabeth yet upstairs?” he asked. It was an innocent question met with an odd response. Georgiana was guiltily evading his eyes, fingers fidgeting in her lap, as his did when nervous or distressed, and flushing mildly. Jane was composed, as always, yet stammered vaguely in answer.
“She is preparing for dinner, I believe. She rested earlier when we returned.”
Darcy frowned. It was nothing he could quite put his finger on, but a shiver of unease ran up his spine nonetheless. “Jane, is she well?” His tone was brisk and without waiting for her reply, he turned to his sister. “Georgiana?”
She started and flushed deeper. “She is fine, William. The fainting is natural, they say, and Mrs. Bennet told us…” But he was gone, long strides echoing down the hall.
Elizabeth was bent over the bed, fully dressed for dinner, carefully wrapping a package when her husband lunged through the door bellowing her name. She jolted in surprise, one hand moving to her heart. “William, you frightened me half to death! What in God's name—”
“Are you well?” he blurted, crossing hastily and clasping her hands as he stared fiercely into her eyes, brows tight and furrowed.
She frowned, honestly having forgotten the minor mishap of earlier. “I am fine.”
“They said you fainted! Why did you not call for me?”
“Oh bother! It happens to pregnant women, dearest. What were you going to do? Rush away from your game and carry me all the way back to Netherfield?”
“Perhaps!” he answered stubbornly. “You promised to not tax yourself, Elizabeth. Do I need to follow you everywhere?”
“I hardly think, Mr. Darcy, that walking through the short streets of Meryton qualifies as overly arduous. It could have happened just as easily in the halls of the house. Are you going to next lock me in my room?!”
“If I must, yes!” He glared and she glared back, hands on her hips.
“Try it and I will simply crawl out the window. Ask my father and he will tell you how capable I am at climbing!”
He stared for a moment, then threw up his hands with a growl and paced to the window.
A few moments later: “Here,” Elizabeth said as the package was thrust under his nose, “this is for you. A gift I purchased while exhausting myself shopping! Also, there is something adorable on the bed. I, too, think constantly of our child. I will meet you downstairs, hopefully in an improved humor!” And with a toss of her head she walked out of the room.
Darcy sighed, running a hand over his face, torn between frustration and shame. He walked to the bed. Lying there was the tiniest garment he had ever beheld: a gown in pale yellow with miniscule white pearl buttons down the front and a thin ribbon ruffle along the collar. Beside it sat a matching bonnet not much bigger than his palm and a pair of teensy satin booties edged in yellow. He picked up the shoes and plopped onto the edge of the bed, a huge grin spreading over his face while his hands trembled. Darcy was not a complete idiot. Rationally, he understood that newborn babies were small, yet having rarely actually seen one, or even an older baby for that matter, it unexpectedly dawned on him how miraculous it all was. His focus had been so wrapped up with Lizzy's health that he had spared rarely a moment's thought to the future reality. Elizabeth, as a woman, would have thought of nothing else, her symptoms mere inconveniences to endure for the greater joy.
He slipped one large finger into one of the booties, nearly filling it, and picked up the wrapped package she had given him. Inside were petits four pastries filled with lemon custard and topped with meringue. He smiled. Darcy did not generally crave sweets. Except for hot cocoa his only true dessert proclivity was anything lemon flavored. Elizabeth, amazing Elizabeth! Proving once again that she was not only continually conscious of their child but additionally of her love for him.
When he reentered the parlor he crossed the room immediately to where Elizabeth stood talking to Jane. She started at the sensation of his hand on the small of her back, turning her head as he bent to kiss her cheek. Their eyes met and all was forgiven.
Mrs. Langton, Pemberley's cook, was the type of leader who without a doubt was the admiral of her kitchen. Nonetheless, she was also a wise manager in that she recognized that her underlings could, upon occasion, actually teach her something. In fact, in order to please the palates of the Darcys, she searched far and wide for any culinary edification, including the hiring
of staff from various nationalities. Therefore, in addition to the standard English cuisines, the kitchen created French, German, Spanish, and even Indian masterpieces. It had taken Lizzy quite some effort to grow accustomed to the varying spices and develop the taste for exotic preparations.
The cook at Longbourn, however, was rooted in conventional English dietary fare. Unoriginal, perhaps, but Darcy had been pleasantly surprised to discover that he was a remarkable cook. The food served at Longbourn may not be colorful, but it was superb. Consequently, no matter how irritating the Bennet craziness had often been for him, he never left the table with his stomach wanting. Happily, nothing had changed.
The usual bustle greeted them when they arrived. Mrs. Bennet flitted about, fawning over Darcy's “fine jacket” and Lizzy's “expensive gown” and nearly fainted at the sight of the Darcy carriage with elaborate crest on the door. They were a bit late so repaired immediately to the dining room. Lizzy was famished again, and a quick survey of the laden table showed no foodstuffs currently incompatible with her stomach. She hesitated a fraction of a second, already biting into a juicy slice of turkey before everyone was seated. Darcy, sitting beside her, smiled but cautioned, “Careful, dearest. You know what happens if you eat too hastily.” Luckily, his fears came to naught, Lizzy ingesting without incidence.
“Lizzy,” said Mr. Bennet, “we have news of Charlotte. Sir Lucas received a missive this afternoon and sent word. She too is expecting. Her date of confinement is this fall sometime.”
“How wonderful!” several voices declared at the same time.
“I am so happy for her,” Lizzy finally replied after swallowing. “She deserves some compensation for marrying Mr. Collins.”
“Lizzy! Do not be so uncharitable! Mr. Collins is a perfectly respectable man, despite your assessment to the contrary.”
“Respectable he surely is, Mrs. Bennet,” Darcy smoothly chimed in, covering Lizzy's snort of disgust and forestalling the quip surely to come. “However, I must confess to being profoundly grateful that Elizabeth's opinion was of a negative bent.”
“Oh, of course, Mr. Darcy! Naturally it has all worked out for the best for Lizzy and for Charlotte. How could Charlotte not be content in her situation? Lizzy, you said her home was lovely and they have such a devoted patroness in Lady de Bourgh. How does your aunt fare, Mr. Darcy?”
Darcy's jaw had clenched at the mention of his aunt's name and his tone was cold when he spoke. “I have no recent information, madam. However, familiar with her as I am, I can assert with confidence that she is likely unchanged.”
Lizzy rapidly interjected a new subject. “Papa, William tells me that Mr. Simpson has maintained his billiard title?”
This prompted a lively recap of the tournament, the men dramatic in the reenactment. Even Darcy added his theatrical storytelling embellishments a time or two, although he shied away from his own participation. Rather, he blushed as both Mr. Bennet and Mr. Bingley sang the praise of his expertise. Lizzy beamed at her spouse and squeezed his hand. “I was sure he would perform brilliantly,” she announced with pride.
After dinner they strolled through the gardens and onto the adjacent paths. Initially all together, the couples eventually diverged, wishing to be alone. Lizzy, from the time she was old enough to wander off on her own, had considered a ramble after the evening meal a necessity. She had been very pleased to discover that it was a habit Darcy eagerly embraced. His tendency through adulthood was to walk along the terrace at Pemberley or the gardens at Darcy House prior to retiring for bed. In both cases, it was the desire for fresh air and star gazing that drew them outside. It was another one of those strange little customs that they had in common. During their engagement the nightly excursions had rapidly become vital, often as the first time in the entire day they were able to secure any alone time, or as alone as they could manage with Jane and Charles within earshot. However, both couples had progressively stretched the ordered proximity requirements until they were often, unbeknownst to the Bennets, on complete opposite sides of the house!
Still, Mr. Darcy had rigidly controlled himself and the private interludes never crossed any permanent boundaries, although it had balanced precariously a multitude of times. Now, they were enthusiastically seizing the opportunities to revisit past places and events without the societal strictures of the pre-matrimonial state. They ambled leisurely in silence, Lizzy holding onto her husband's arm with head on his shoulder, steering toward an oak sheltered clearing at the edge of the lake. When they arrived, Darcy enfolded his wife, pressing her back against his chest.
Kissing her earlobe, he whispered, “Do you know how desperately I yearned to hold you like this during our engagement?”
Lizzy laughed. “Yes, Mr. Darcy, I believe I do! Innocent I may have been, but not imbecilic.” She glanced up into his face. “Your eyes reveal your emotions, my love.” She patted his cheek and he kissed her.
He tightened his grip, unconsciously rubbing her belly. They gazed dreamily at the cloudless spring sky, a million stars visible. Darcy had studied astronomy at Cambridge so had an adequate knowledge base of the constellations. Lizzy had always enjoyed stargazing but, other than reading a couple books in her father's library, knew little. Darcy happily shared his education with her and taught her how to adjust the telescope located on an upper floor balcony at Pemberley.
“Which constellations are visible, William?”
“There is Canes Venatici, the hunting dogs,” he indicated. “Over there is Ursa Minor, or small bear. Leo is those stars there, with Leo Minor faintly seen above the lion's head. Can you see them?”
“I think so, although it is far easier with your telescope.” She sighed. “It is a jumble to me, I am afraid. I rather think one could paint all kinds of pictures. For instance,” she pointed as she said, “if you connect that star to that one and then down to those three and back up and over, you form a fork!” They laughed.
“My wife the astronomer. We can dub it Elizabeth's Trident.” He bestowed soft kisses along her neck, returning to her hair and inhaling deeply. “I love you, Elizabeth, more than I have the words to express. Forgive me for my outburst earlier. I cannot seem to avoid worrying about you and the baby.”
She turned in his arms, hugging his waist securely. “All is forgiven. Your job is to worry, I suppose, while I get to enjoy the pleasurable sensations of nausea, raging hunger, and a constantly full bladder!”
She kissed him, but he frowned. “I hate that you must suffer so, Elizabeth. I wish I could ease your burdens.”
“I shall remind you of your wish, husband, when I need someone to massage my aching back and feet, provide the strange foods for the bizarre cravings that reportedly occur, and listen to me whine at how plump I have become.”
“Very well. I accept the employment.”
“Oh! So hasty to concede! Consider the job description cautiously, Mr. Darcy, before you so readily acquiesce. At moments like this, what with moonlight and stars, you tend to get all fuzzy and romantic. You forget to whom you are avowing to placate. I have been known, a time or two, to be difficult.” She beamed up at his grinning face.
“I cannot comprehend how you could possibly become any more tiresome and grueling than you already have been, Mrs. Darcy, so I believe I can handle the challenge.”
“Ha! I shall show you tiresome and grueling!” And with that, she began tickling him, which was her one advantage over his superior strength.
ON THEIR LAST DAY in Hertfordshire, Darcy and Bingley left at the crack of dawn for a last minute hunt with several other men. The weather had consistently remained pleasant, not too hot with a soft breeze blowing frequently. Darcy was busy everyday while Lizzy generally did little. Her fatigue appeared to be increasing, much to her extreme annoyance, despite sleeping each night as if sedated. To her great relief and Darcy's also, she did not faint again nor experience any light-headedness. The nausea randomly occurred and the food aversions varied day by day, offering her no ability to
plan ahead. She tried to be jolly but it was a chore. For the most part, she did not feel poorly, and after being inundated by the mothers of the community with story after story of pregnancy woes, she realized that her symptoms were in truth rather minor. Nonetheless, Lizzy did not have the temperament to easily deal with lethargy.
On her third afternoon, while attending a tea party in her honor, Lizzy actually fell asleep in the middle of the parlor! She was mortified, although the ladies were gracious and nodded with sage understanding, using her misfortune to launch into further tales of pregnancy related mishaps.
Once safely returned to Netherfield, Lizzy threw herself onto the chaise with a bark of disgust. “Jane, please recall me to my senses if I ever become the type of old woman who glories in relating all my ailments with relish!”
Jane laughed. “Do not fear, Lizzy. It is not in your nature.”
“Neither is this confounded tiredness. My mind desires to walk the fields, yet I know my legs would collapse under me ere I traversed a mile!” Jane smiled indulgently as Lizzy sighed, gazing out the window at the beautiful scenery. “Oh pooh, I am being such a baby. Here I am, married to the best man in the world, carrying our child, and all I can do is grouse.” She turned to her sister and laughed. “Poor William! What the man has to look forward to is simply not fair. You see, Jane, I am becoming Mama already!”
“Heaven forbid!” Jane declared with mock horror, and they both laughed. To avoid any further embarrassing incidents, Lizzy opted to stay at Netherfield or Longbourn for the remaining days. She rested frequently and began to feel stronger. Therefore, on the final afternoon, after eating well at lunch and napping briefly, Lizzy decided to take a walk. There was one favorite haunt she wished to visit before she left.
So, with a book and a small basket of edible treats and lemonade, she headed toward a copse of willows she had, when a young girl, christened Willow Bench. On a small rise located at the fenced boundary of Longbourn, where Netherfield abutted, grew a cluster of six willows. A seventh had, at some time in the far past, died and fallen over creating a long wooden settee. Therefore, an eleven-year-old, unoriginal Lizzy had named it Willow Bench. It was one of many secluded spots Lizzy retreated to for respite from her boisterous household.
Loving Mr. Darcy Page 5