Ardently

by Caitlin Williams

  The entertainment was then suspended for supper to be served. Elizabeth and Darcy were rising from their seats when Georgiana joined them. They had begun walking, but Henry Winslow detained Elizabeth with a cough and an apologetic bow. “Miss Benn.. oh, I beg your pardon, it is Mrs Darcy now isn’t it? We have not had the chance to speak this evening, are you well?”

  “Yes, I thank you. How are you this evening, Mr Winslow? Did you enjoy the music?”

  Though he spoke to her, his eyes were cast Georgiana’s way. “Yes, Mrs Darcy, I did, very much so, the last performance in particular. I did wonder if you might do me the honour of introducing me to your young companion, who played so very well, so very beautifully.”

  His look was imploring, his hand outstretched towards Georgiana, as if his greatest wish was for her to take it in hers. She, however, gave him a look of pure disdain. A look Elizabeth would not have previously believed her capable of.

  “Georgiana, this is the Honourable Henry Winslow. Mr Winslow, this is my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy.” His bow was low and his face was flushed. Her curtsey was brief and by the time he had risen, she had turned and was walking away with Mrs Mountford.

  Elizabeth put a hand on Henry Winslow’s arm. “Your mother, with her usual striking civility, called upon us yesterday, even though we had just arrived in Town. I must return the compliment, and with some expediency. I expect Georgiana and I will probably call upon the ‘morrow. Will we have the pleasure of your company also?”

  The young man replied with a nod and his countenance betrayed a most ardent determination.

  The rest of the evening passed agreeably enough, but as with almost all things, the anticipation of it had given more pleasure than the event itself. Earlier, Darcy had wanted nothing more than to take Elizabeth out and show her off. Now he wanted nothing more than to be at home alone with her. They left at an hour that was not too early as to appear unsociable, but not late enough to count them in with the stragglers and the drunks.

  The carriage ride home was mostly undertaken in companionable silence. Georgiana made the odd comment about Henry Winslow being quite arrogant and insufferable, to which Mr Darcy nodded in agreement, Mrs Mountford smiled and Elizabeth refused to be drawn into offering her opinion.

  Georgiana, in a curiously cross mood, bade them good night as soon as they entered the hall. Mrs Mountford did likewise, claiming she was a tired old lady, though in truth, she looked livelier than any of them. Elizabeth went to the night nursery. Despite being told that Master Fitzwilliam had slept undisturbed for the entire evening, she wished to see her precious boy in his slumber and assure herself of his wellbeing. Darcy was left all alone in the drawing room, where he poured a glass of port for himself and settled into a chair by the fire. He looked forward to their return to Pemberley and, for the first time in many years, he looked forward to Christmas. Two Christmases ago, he’d been widowed and dejected; sat in mournful retrospection, wondering how his life had become so empty and lamenting his mistakes and blunders.

  Last Christmas had been his first with Elizabeth. He had smiled and drank and ate, attended services and appeared all that was merry. Yet, he had been sick to his stomach with fear, as with each day that passed, she had grown heavier with child. Terror that Elizabeth would not survive the birth had burned darkly within him.

  In the end, she’d carried easily; walking out daily and hurrying around the house, making such changes and arrangements as were necessary. She had kept up with her duties as mistress, and with her correspondence and social calls (Elizabeth, in her own determined way, had defied convention a little by only withdrawing from society a few weeks before the babe was due). Even the onset of her pains had been without drama. They had been at dinner when she had laid down her fork and calmly instructed him to send for the midwife - in the same tone of voice she might have adopted in asking for the salt.

  He had blinked and smiled, and happily helped her upstairs, but then had come two days of pure hell; two days spent pacing the halls and worrying endlessly about the lack of noise coming from her rooms. He had not gone to bed that first night; sleep would have been impossible. Instead he’d kept watch on her door, while maids came and went, bringing hot water and clean bedding. Yet it had all seemed so deathly quiet and every time he’d enquired after her welfare, he would receive such a vague answer as to make his palms slick with sweat and his legs shake. When morning had broken over Pemberley and there was still no news, he had sent for a doctor. This he did against Elizabeth’s express wishes, as beforehand, she had been adamant that a midwife would be more than sufficient. However, he did not see what harm a man with a little more formal training could do, and when the physician arrived, he was welcomed by the midwife and not immediately expelled by his wife - which only served to worry Darcy more.

  The morning had also brought Mrs Mountford with it, arriving in her stylish barouche and seemingly with the gift of sixth sense, for Darcy had sent no word to Oakdene. After he had relayed the details of the situation to her, he had expected she would dash to Elizabeth’s rooms. Instead she had patted his arm and poured a generous measure of port into a glass, which she then tried to press upon him. He had refused it, protesting that the hour was too early for him to imbibe. Mrs Mountford had shrugged, said ‘suit yourself’ and had drank it down in one go, before setting the glass on the table with an unladylike thud.

  She had kept him company for many hours and they had talked of everything except the event happening above their very heads.

  ‘It is so quiet,’ he had burst out eventually. ‘Why is it so quiet’?

  ‘She’ll be fine, my dear boy, she is just very stoic.’ Mrs Mountford had seemed reluctant to go anywhere near the mistresses rooms, since she had not given birth herself, perhaps she had felt it was not her place, and was even a little fearful, but his repeated pleas for news had eventually spurred her to her feet and then she had disappeared for many hours. Darcy had paced some more and eventually, when night had begun to fall again, he had sat at the bottom of the grand staircase. He supposed he had fallen asleep eventually, with his face pressed against the intricate ironmongery, because when Mrs Mountford had roused him, it was light again. She had bid him follow her to Elizabeth’s rooms, where he had greeted his tiny son with a replica of the Pemberley bannisters imprinted on his forehead.

  And now, a year later, another new life grew inside her; another small Darcy. This time would be different though, as he was determined not to let the next five or six months be tainted with his anxieties. He would enjoy every day with his small family, thankful for their presence in his life and their love.

  He startled when Elizabeth gently touched his arm.

  “You are very deep in thought, sir.”

  “Whatever was wrong with Georgiana? I don’t believe I have ever seen her so ill-tempered.”

  “Henry Winslow was the matter.”

  Darcy watched as Elizabeth crossed the room to extinguish one of the candles, sending the room into semi darkness “Yes, she is certainly not very keen on that young man,” he remarked.

  Elizabeth smiled at him. “Of course she is, she just doesn’t know it yet. They’ll be married by summer.”

  “Nonsense. Besides, from what I’ve seen of him tonight, I’m not very inclined to give my permission.”

  “Fitzwilliam, I beg you to keep an open mind where Henry Winslow is concerned. You will not take against him because of a single unguarded comment, surely? As we well know, he is not the only man to have ever made such an error. Now, if we are to fight about this, my dear husband, may I ask that we save it for another day?”

  They were both such strong characters; occasionally quick to temper, that arguments did inevitably occur. The first eighteen months of marriage had not been all tranquillity and harmony. Darcy remembered one particular dispute that had shaken the walls of Pemberley and sent the servants scattering into dark corners; it might even have been heard as far away as Lambton. He also remembered, with a
smile, the sweetness of the subsequent reconciliation.

  He reached out with strong arms and pulled her suddenly onto his lap. She gasped in surprise, but did not squirm or giggle, or act the coquette; that was not her way. Instead she put her hands on either side of his face and turned it, so she might kiss his neck. Her lips lingered for an extraordinarily long while in the crevice just beneath his ear. The feel of her warm breath against his skin and the sweet fragrance which belonged only to her, together with the feel of her body pressed against his, were all his undoing. Desire swept through him swiftly, sharply and his whisper had an edge of desperation about it. “Mrs Darcy, dismiss your maid, you will have no need of her tonight.”

  She left her place in his lap, but enticed him to follow her with an arch of her eyebrow and an outstretched hand. “Sir, I already have.”

  In the hallway, a lone young footman remained on duty. As his employers passed and bid him goodnight, Albert bowed his head and averted his eyes in a practiced manner. Though, as she ascended the stairs, he could not help but cast a cautious, admiring gaze up at his pretty mistress. Decked in her silk and jewels, she was a lovely sight. She reached the landing and turned to give the master such an intimate look, before they disappeared from view, that Albert was almost embarrassed to have witnessed it. He went to the drawing room and extinguished the fire that still burned within the grate. When he was done, he raised his eyes towards the ceiling and sighed. “You’re a lucky sod, Mr Darcy; you get to bask in her flames, and all I get to do is put ‘em out.”