His spirits waned as he drew nearer to the setting of his next appointment: the townhouse of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. He dreaded meeting his aunt. His anger seethed below the serene exterior, unrelenting since he first heard of her rudeness to his wife. He and Elizabeth, once again, had been forced to revisit the past, dredging up awful memories and emotions that they had successfully resolved. In the end, their indescribable, unbreakable love had triumphed, the only positive in this episode being the proof of how their devotion to each other could and would overcome all odds. Still, Darcy was furious at the interruption to their bliss and communion. He had no clear path, only certain that he must confront his aunt.
She had consented to meet with him, her note impersonal and short, as had been Darcy's to her. As a footman took his coat, Anne appeared to greet him, a sweet smile on her pale face.
“Cousin William! Mother told me you were visiting today, so I have been watching for you.”
“Dearest Anne,” he replied as he kissed her cheek, “have you been well? Any changes?”
She shrugged. “I am the same, William. Fair days followed by ill. Congratulations on your blessed news. I am so very delighted for you and Mrs. Darcy. Has she been well?”
“Thank you, Anne. She is well now. The early months were moderately difficult, yet nothing unexpected, thankfully.”
“I do hope you and mother can resolve your dispute. I so desire to meet your wife now that she is family. I was quite taken with her when she tarried at Kent last year. So lively and witty. It did not surprise me that you were enamored with her as she is perfect for you, Mr. Stuffy.”
Darcy laughed through his surprise. “You have not called me that since we were children. I believe I am offended!”
Anne smiled then grew serious. “Mother is in her parlor, practicing a pose of intimidation, most assuredly. Be kind, William, and attempt to check that infamous Darcy temper at the door!” She kissed his cheek, then left him at the threshold.
Darcy knocked and, at his aunt's permission, entered, though with a deep inhale and a silent prayer. Lady Catherine sat imperiously in a massive chair gazing inscrutably at her nephew as he bowed formally before her. “Aunt Catherine” was his only greeting.
“Fitzwilliam,” she responded. “Have you come to chasten me as did your uncle?”
“The course this interview runs will wholly depend upon your attitude, Aunt. I do not judge it within my authority to discipline you and have no plans to do so. My only intent is to clarify, again, the facts as they stand. Unless you wish to begin by apologizing for your egregious behavior to my wife?”
“I did extend my apologies to your wife. Was this not sufficient?”
“Unfortunately, no. Your note was brief and vague.”
“What, precisely, is it you want from me, Fitzwilliam? To say that I approve of your choice? That I am pleased that Anne is rejected? Is this what you expect from me?”
“It is pointless to discuss Anne and me. All you need do is heed the assertions of your daughter and you would understand that she had no desire to marry me had I wished it. Any proposal on my part would have been repulsed, thus making myself the rejected individual. In regards to Mrs. Darcy, you are correct in that it is my choice, and astoundingly erroneous for you to credit your approval a precondition in any decision of mine. Pardon my bluntness, madam, but you presume an influence on my life that is not your prerogative.”
Lady Catherine inhaled with an audible gasp, pursed her lips, and averted her eyes. Darcy remained still for a few moments, struggling to control his temper, and then sat down near his aunt. He leaned forward and took her hands gently, her surprised gaze jerking to his face. Darcy was stern as he spoke.
“Aunt Catherine, hearken to my words. I have had many months to ruminate over your initial interference into my affairs. As misplaced and ill-mannered as it was for you to intercede, I do believe that, to a degree, it was out of affection for me and concern for my welfare. This is a topic I too have some experience with.” The last was spoken with a wry twist to his lips. “In hope that this is the case, I appeal to this affection. I am the happiest I have ever been in my entire life, Aunt. My life is complete, and I am whole as I have never been. Even if you cannot comprehend this nor concur with how it has transpired, please, I beg you for the sake of our relationship and peace in our family to trust me and believe.”
They stared at each other for several heartbeats. Finally, Catherine asked, “She truly means that much to you, Fitzwilliam?”
“Yes, she does.” He paused. “Elizabeth is an amazing individual. If you had given her the opportunity to prove herself, you would have deduced this fact for yourself. I pray you will allow yourself the chance to reach the same conclusion as I—and quite literally all who know her—have.”
He released her hands then and stiffened into his full, commanding pose. “Nevertheless, I am obligated to remind you that whether your opinion ever alters, Elizabeth is my wife, and as such she commands respect and honor. This fact is incontrovertible. Secondly, all areas of my life are beyond your purview. We wish for you to be welcomed in our home and to know our child, but you must understand that you have no power or control therein. Thirdly, Mrs. Darcy is owed an honorable and honest apology, as am I. Your actions have been unthinkable, Lady Catherine, and unworthy of the Fitzwilliam name.”
He stood, voice softening as he spoke, “Mrs. Darcy and I petition you with heartfelt humility to meditate on these things. If you determine to acquiesce, then we would request yours and Anne's presence at a dinner party we are hosting three days hence. Only family and close friends will be in attendance, and we would very much like to have you there.”
Lady Catherine's thoughts or feelings were indecipherable as she sat regally and gazed into space. Darcy concluded, “We shall send a formal invitation on the morrow. Good day, madam.” And with an elegant bow, he departed.
Returning to a silent Darcy House, Darcy was emotionally and physically exhausted. His arm and chest ached with a consistent throbbing, and the normally robust Darcy was overcome with fatigue. Elizabeth and the girls, accompanied by the Bennet girls’ Aunt Gardiner, Jane, and several others, were out shopping. Darcy retreated to their sitting room and reclined on the chaise to read and consume a light lunch. His next conscious awareness was a tender kiss to his brow and his wife's gentle touch and sweet voice calling his name. Opening bleary eyes and moving his neck, stiff from being in an oddly placed angle as he slumped in the chaise, he spied Lizzy's beautiful face.
“Darling, you will not be able to move if you sleep here. Let me assist you.”
Darcy simply stared at her for what seemed an eternity, mind cloudy and thoughts scattered. For a span of time, he had no clear idea where he was. She was speaking soft words but they made no sense. He shook his head, instinctively hauling with his left arm to rise then falling back with a shout of pain, wakefulness instantaneous.
“William! You must be cautious!”
“I am well,” he declared through grit teeth, massaging with his right hand.
“No you are not! The pain is intense and your weariness disturbs me. You never nap in the afternoons. We should call a physician. I am very worried about you, my love.”
“My body is healing, beloved, hence the fatigue. Observe how much stronger my hand is.” He proved his point by grasping her wrist and tugging her onto his lap. “You see how easy that was?” He was smiling bravely, but Lizzy could see the lingering stress in the clenching of his jaw and pallor. “Now, tell me about your day.”
“Oh no, Mr. Darcy, you will not distract me that easily and do not even think about kissing me!” she firmly declared with a jab to his breastbone and a push backward. “Surely you have a physician in Town? We can send for him right now and—”
“Elizabeth, I will be fine. Trust me, I honestly have suffered worse. It is a bad sprain and a horrific bruise, I will grant you that, and it does pain me, but it is mending.” She opened her mouth to argue further, b
ut he cupped her face and interrupted with a kiss. “Tell you what, if I do not feel any improvement tomorrow I will send for the doctor. In the interim, I shall soak in a hot bath and submit to a lengthy massage by my loving wife. Pair that with another blissful night's rest in your arms, and I should be cured. Now, tell me about your day.”
Lizzy was frowning and peering at her oft-times devious spouse through narrowed eyes. “Do you promise? To send for the doctor, that is?”
“Cross my heart,” he answered solemnly, gesturing over his heart precisely, although the lilt to his lips belied his seriousness. “Now, for the third time. How was your day?”
Lizzy chuckled and shook her head. “It was delightful, thank you for asking. You will be happy to learn that I spent nearly all my money. Satisfied?”
“That depends. Was any of it spent on yourself, Mrs. Darcy?”
Lizzy flushed and avoided his eyes. “A little,” she murmured, leaning in toward his exposed neck to be halted by a palm on her forehead.
“Oh no! Distracting with intimate kisses will not be tolerated! Such guile is not to be borne, I tell you.”
“Ha!” Lizzy barked, but he ignored her.
“Your giving spirit becomes you, dearest, but you know the consequences of not purchasing worthless items for yourself?” He sighed dramatically. “I shall have to buy them for you, which means tramping through women's establishments and making a fool of myself. Oh, the bother of it all!” And with a heavy sigh, he threw his head back into the cushion.
“You know, if this horse breeding and farming career ever fails you, the theatre would be a logical choice. You could be the next Edmund Kean.”
Darcy grinned and drew her in for a satisfying kiss. Unfortunately, they were shortly interrupted by a knock at the door. It was the maid with an express letter addressed to Mr. Darcy, along with the rest of the day's post. Darcy opened the letter and began to read while Lizzy flipped through the stack, happily discovering a letter from her father and another from Charlotte Collins.
“Well, my love, it appears as if your wish will be granted tomorrow after all.”
“What wish is that?”
“That I am seen by a physician. This note is from my uncle George. He and an associate are arriving tomorrow and request lodging at Darcy House.” Darcy laughed. “As if he need ask.”
“How long has it been since you last saw him?”
“Well, let me think. He visited shortly after father died. He was unable to arrive for the funeral, the message announcing father's passing probably not arriving until long after. He is ostensibly stationed in Bombay, but travels throughout the country to remote villages where doctors are not located, so reaching him can be a challenge. It was some three months before he visited. Then he surprised Georgie and me a little over two years ago. He tarried most of the summer at Pemberley. Georgiana adores him, as is only appropriate I suppose since she is named after him. I receive a letter now and again, but he is often beyond any postal center and is very busy. You will like him, beloved. He has always reminded me very much of Richard, although the two are obviously not related, and he has the most astounding stories to tell. He is focused and driven, typical Darcy traits taken to extremes in his case.”
“He never married?”
“No. Too focused on his work. No children, as far as we know of. I suppose one can never be sure. He let slip once that he has an Indian mistress, but I did not ask for any further details. It will be delightful to see him. I must tell Georgie. Help me up, love.”
Lizzy had been surprised to learn of the extensiveness to the Darcy family. With Darcy and Georgiana orphaned and alone, she had naturally assumed they were the last of the Darcys. She was in error.
The Darcy family was ancient, tracing an extensive heritage back over five hundred years. A multitude of secondary bloodlines from siblings were long since lost, but one could easily presume there were unknown distant Darcy relatives scattered about. The name was not particularly common, but Darcy had told his wife of two occasions where he met someone with his surname. Whether they were an actual relative was impossible to ascertain, but the likelihood was plausible. The main Darcy ancestry was unbroken and included a plethora of noblemen and women on down through the centuries.
The more recent familial history was easier to delineate and also proved the reality of numerous Darcys.
Darcy's grandfather, James Darcy Sr., was the eldest of three sons. His younger brothers each married and settled down to raise their families, begetting a number of Darcy cousins now strewn throughout England, some of whom Darcy had never met. James Sr. and his wife, Darcy's grandmother, produced six children. The eldest, Darcy's aunt Mary, married an Austrian baron and currently lived outside of Linz, Austria, with her brood. Apparently, she and her husband had traveled to England a couple of times when Darcy was younger, and he had journeyed to Austria twice to become acquainted with his Austrian cousins, yet the relationships were distant.
James Jr., the heir to Pemberley, arrived three years later, followed by a sister, Estella; the twins, Alexander and George; and last Phillip.
Estella married a wealthy landowner, Xavier Montrose, and resided near Exeter in Devon with their children and grandchildren. Darcy's father had been quite close to his younger sister, and over the years, she and her family were frequent visitors to Pemberley and vice versa. Their two children, one male and one female, were both married with small children of their own. Despite the distance from Devon, both Darcy's aunt and uncle and his two cousins had attended his wedding, allowing Lizzy to meet them.
The twins were born when James was eight. From the time they could toddle the three had been inseparable—so Darcy told Lizzy—the age difference inconsequential. Estella was a bit of a rowdy girl and had fit right in, whereas Mary was delicate and dainty, finding the four intolerable. Alexander died at the age of twelve from injuries sustained after falling from his horse. The three youngest siblings had been devastated, especially George. The twins were identical and shared the unusual bond seen with twins, leaving George permanently bereft. James always told his son that George changed from that time forward: more serious, his wit caustic, and obsessed with medicine and healing things. He vowed to become a physician at an early age, a choice not pleasing to his father.
James Sr. had balked at the idea of a son of his being a mere doctor, the profession not necessarily considered respectable. Yet George persisted with the inherited Darcy stubbornness brought to the fore. When it became obvious that there was no altering his intention, James Sr. relented, providing George received his education at the Royal College of Physicians in London. George had done so, following his licensure as a physician by also enrolling at the Royal College of Surgeons as well as the Society of Apothecaries. His thirst for understanding medicine in all its aspects seemed inexhaustible. After his apprenticeship he refused to settle down and hang a shingle. Instead, he joined the British East India Company in 1790 and had resided and practiced in India ever since.
The last of the Darcy siblings, Phillip, arrived when James was sixteen and long after his parents expected further children. Due to the great difference in their ages, the Darcy siblings had not been particularly intimate with their youngest brother when he was a child. After Cambridge, James Jr. returned to Pemberley permanently; George was already away to college, and he and Phillip gradually developed a fondness, although the age gap prevented true companionship. At eighteen, Phillip was apprenticed to a banking associate of his father's, the world of high finance being his chosen field of interest, eventually settling in Manchester. James Sr. had been disappointed, wishing his youngest son would also remain at Pemberley and apply his skills to assist in managing the estate. Phillip and his family visited from time to time throughout Darcy's childhood, but only once after his father died. Darcy was not particularly friendly with his uncle, and although invited, they had not come for the wedding, so Lizzy had yet to meet them.
Therefore, Darcy and Georgiana had
grown up relatively unassociated on a frequent basis with any of their Darcy relatives. Conversely, the Fitzwilliams all lived within an easy distance to Pemberley and Derbyshire, rendering their relationship effortless to cultivate. James Jr. had fallen madly in love with the lovely Lady Anne Fitzwilliam, daughter to the now deceased Earl of Matlock, when she a mere fifteen and he twenty. The affection had been instantly mutual, and three days past her nineteenth birthday, they were wed. Lady Anne's older sister, Catherine—in fact the eldest of the four Fitzwilliam offspring—was already wed to Sir Lewis de Bourgh and living in Kent. Her dearly loved sister Muriel, only one year her senior, would wed a Derbyshire landowner three years later, only five months after their brother Malcolm married Madeline, settling in Matlock.
Darcy's grandmother passed away long before he was born, some one year after his parent's marriage. James Sr. then chose to follow his dream, a dream Lizzy could easily envision her husband someday fulfilling. He completely relinquished the management of Pemberley into the hands of his vastly competent son and devoted all his efforts to the breeding of Pemberley's horses. James Jr. was Master of Pemberley in all but name, while James Sr. exponentially increased the breeding program and training of their thoroughbreds. Within five years of this arrangement, the wealth of Pemberley had doubled.
Anne embraced her role as Mistress of Pemberley while attempting to produce an heir. After two miscarriages, Anne finally carried and delivered a daughter, Alexandria. The pregnancy and birth were uncomplicated, Anne was robust, and the baby was fat and healthy. Tragically, when the vigorous toddler was just over a year, and Anne was again with child, she suddenly became ill and within a week had died. The doctors diagnosed it as scarlet fever. The family was grief stricken. Luckily, Anne's second successful pregnancy progressed as smoothly as the first and on November 10 of 1787, Fitzwilliam Alexander James Darcy was born, weighing well over nine pounds and screaming loudly.
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