Chance Encounters

by Linda Wells

  She glared at him. “How can I believe you?”

  He shook his head helplessly. “You must trust me. I never acted on my love for Elizabeth; even when I was convinced that I was the better man for her.”

  She drew a deep breath. “When did you . . .”

  “Fall in love?” He sighed. “When she ate dinner at Darcy House a week after Darcy and I met her. I had not seen her since, and all that week I listened to Darcy’s joyous effusions of her. I went to dinner looking for fault, and instead fell under her spell. Darcy by that time was already a changed man. I had never dreamed such a transformation was possible. You can hardly understand the unhappy, emotionally numb man he was. I could not believe he of all people could feel such deep, instant love. I think I was jealous, and wanted it for myself.”

  Quietly she watched him analyze himself. “You never acted on it.”

  “No, I could not hurt Darcy. He was smiling for the first time in years . . . since he was a boy.”

  “Elizabeth said that you spoke to her at Rosings.”

  He laughed hollowly; of course she had spoken to Elizabeth about this. “Yes, I did speak to her, and Darcy spoke to me, quite strongly as I recall.”

  “But you did not give up your feelings.” She needed to hear every detail.

  “No, it was a part of me by then.” He looked up into her eyes, he was brutally honest.

  “And then they married.” He nodded. “And you were . . . unhappy?” He nodded again. “And then she was attacked.”

  “Yes, and I thought that as a soldier, I would have protected her. If she had chosen me, she never would have been so threatened. It made it more difficult to give her up. Once again, Darcy had to warn me off.”

  She watched him, her breathing now under control. “You met me then.”

  “Yes, and I admit, I was first attracted to you because I was struck by your resemblance to her.”

  “I remember wondering why you stared at me so.”

  He nodded, still not breaking his gaze. “That was why. But I soon realized that you are not Elizabeth, and exactly the woman I needed. Elizabeth belongs with Darcy. They are soul mates, as I believe we are.”

  “If that is the case, why did you not finally give her up when you began to feel love for me?”

  “I do not know. It took me a long time to accept that the first woman I ever loved would not want me. I suppose it was a circumstance of pride. No man wishes to be rejected no matter the reason, and of course, her reason was excellent, she loves Darcy.” He closed his eyes, and gathered his thoughts. Finally he met her eyes again. “Katie, I swear, I was drawn to you immediately. I thought for a long time that it was due to your resemblance to Elizabeth. I struggled with my true love for you and my phantom love for her. I felt protective of her, which made it harder to relegate my feelings to the less powerful emotion of familial love and caring. The struggle and guilt I think led to my dreams. My failure to instantly understand Rosings, and especially the very conscious knowledge of my failure to you as a dedicated husband ate at my soul. It was not until our Christmas at Pemberley, and actually the day of the ball, that I found the strength to exorcise Elizabeth from the part of my heart where you live.”

  The tears were slowly tracking down her face again. “What happened?” She asked urgently.

  “My father spoke to me. My brother spoke to me. I watched Darcy cling to Elizabeth. I saw her deep and open love for him. I finally gave myself completely to you.” He tried to convey all of his sincerity in his look, but even so, his hand moved across the desk, seeking to touch her.

  She put her hands in her lap, and looked down. “I have noticed a change since we returned.”

  He tried to catch her eyes again. “I asked you to bear with me.”

  “The tide has turned.” She said softly, still looking down.

  “Yes.” They sat in silence.

  She finally met his gaze again. “I have always loved you, Richard. All of me.”

  He nodded and gazed into her eyes. “I can now say that you have all of me, Katie.”

  She stood. “I have much to think about. I will leave you now.”

  He stood and held out his hand. “Please stay.”

  “No. I will see you at dinner.” She walked out of the room and left for their bedchamber.

  Richard watched her go. He wanted to follow her, to wrap his arms around her, kiss her, reassure her of his true, deep, and unending feelings for her, but he let her go, and sat back down behind his desk with his head in his hands. Tears of sorrow tracked down his face. What had Darcy told him? Communication. Darcy regretted deeply not speaking to Elizabeth of his fears. He stood up, and wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. He would not let this rest. He would go to her now. Striding from the room, he took the stairs two at a time and soon found himself outside of the door to her bedchamber. He hesitated a moment, took a breath, and without knocking, entered.

  He found Kathleen staring out of the window; it was obvious she had been crying. “Katie, please forgive me, I did not realize that you have known of my feelings for Elizabeth. I thought this was a struggle that I faced alone, and I truly know that I have conquered it.”

  She shook her head; she knew that he did not realize it. “I suspected it when we visited Pemberley the first time, then little things, the way your face looked when her name was mentioned, your reluctance to be near her . . . you made me feel so inadequate.”

  “It was not intentional.” He said truthfully.

  She sighed. “I know; that is what hurt. Your regard was genuine and simply flowed naturally from you.

  He took her hands in his and gazed into her eyes. “I do love you Katie.”

  “I know.” She said softly.

  “You do?” He looked at her anxiously.

  “Yes Richard, you would not have opened to me if you did not. You would not hold me so desperately when your dreams awaken you in the night, you would not have offered me your hand without it. You are a very good and honourable man.”

  He hung his head with the shame of hurting the woman he truly did love. “You know me well.”

  “As you know me.”

  He opened his arms and she fell into his embrace. She buried her face against his chest, finally feeling secure in his love, and made her decision. “I was going to wait to tell you, but I think you should know now. I am with child.”

  Richard stepped away to see her. “You are?” A huge smile lit up his face. “I will be a father? You are my baby’s mother! Oh Katie!” He kissed her deeply, and then covered her face and hands with more kisses. She laughed, delighted with his behaviour. “When Katie, when?”

  She held his face in her hands. “October.” He picked her up and swung her around, grinning from ear to ear. Squealing, she demanded he put her down and smiled with true happiness; it seemed that she had finally surpassed Elizabeth. She would give him his child.

  LAURA STOOD taking in the room. The dinner had finished and the gentlemen left for the dark panelled confines of their host’s sanctum, drinking, telling lies, talking politics, boasting of their conquests, and whatever else her active imagination could conjure. She scanned the ladies around her, pretending to listen to the feathered and bejewelled women as they twittered of the latest gossip, and ripping apart women who they had never met and knew only as a daughter of this peer or that gentleman, assigning them a place of acceptance or disdain in their world.

  Ordinarily she would have easily joined in, but she was married, and her husband’s family had set down an edict that she was to support the inconsequential daughter of an insignificant gentleman who fell into great fortune by marrying well. She glanced at the corner where her mother-in-law was introducing Elizabeth to her friends. Laura’s friends had already questioned her incessantly over the last Season, demanding that she explain how this marriage occurred. Her unmarried friends had counted on her to provide the necessary introduction to the elusive Mr. Darcy. She would have gladly performed the service if on
ly the man had cooperated and attended events. She sighed, her cousin Darcy could have made such a brilliant match, but he wanted love, she thought with disbelief.

  Laura’s memory of Christmas at Pemberley betrayed her cold thoughts. So many little things struck her, but the image that stayed was of Darcy as he watched Elizabeth from across the music room, contemplating the portrait contained in the locket he gave her. The caress that passed between them when Elizabeth met his gaze was palpable. Laura startled out of her reverie at the sound of a woman’s voice in her ear.

  “I suppose that we cannot ignore Mrs. Darcy, after all, she is Mrs. Darcy. Tell me Laura, you spent Christmas at Pemberley. What has your new cousin done to the house? I have not heard of anyone being invited there for ages. Is Mr. Darcy ashamed of his bride’s skills? Does he regret his choice?”

  Laura regarded the woman and noticed the others hovering around, waiting eagerly for her cutting remarks. As much as she wished to knock down the upstart who had dared to snatch her very eligible cousin from her unhappy friends, she could feel Lady Matlock’s eyes on her as she responded. “Pemberley is as lovely as it ever was. Mrs. Darcy has changed little and she was an attentive hostess.” She would elaborate no further.

  Dissatisfied, another woman asked, “And what of the rumours? Was she meeting a secret lover in the forest when she was attacked?”

  “Certainly not!” Even Laura found that offensive. “One thing that I can say without question is that Mr. Darcy does not regret the connection, and Mrs. Darcy is committed to him.”

  The men rejoined them then, and many sets of feminine eyes watched as Darcy strode into the room and went straight to his wife’s side. The saw him bestow a kiss upon her hand and then place it on his arm. “I cannot remember the last time my husband did that.” A voice behind Laura whispered. “Is that just for show?”

  “No, it is genuine.” She said and looked up to see Mark watching her. She looked away and went to join Lady Matlock, leaving the rest of the ladies to make their own decisions on whether to accept or reject Elizabeth without further input from her.

  The ladies of this party and every other one that the Darcys attended over the very early days of the Season observed, and drew their conclusions. Some admired her successful catch of Darcy, some despised her background, some even advanced beyond the snobbery to actually appreciate the woman, but most, at least to her face, accepted her simply because the man whose ring she wore was Fitzwilliam Darcy’s, and that, it seemed, was enough.

  “WILL SOMEONE PLEASE explain to me what possessed our monarch to demand three-yard long trains, feathers and bare shoulders for a presentation at court in the middle of winter?”

  Darcy and Georgiana exchanged amused glances as they watched Elizabeth shift the heavy train in frustration while they practiced once again the ridiculously low curtsy. Darcy was acting the King as Elizabeth performed her irritated approach and deep curtsy, and then backed away in atypical servility. They were undecided if Elizabeth’s behaviour was due to the annoyance of the act, or the condition of her body. It was the middle of February and the ladies’ presentation at court was in a fortnight. They made the journey to town at the end of January, suffered through five dinner parties and the ton’s incessant curiosity, and had just received their presentation gowns from the modiste.

  “At least you do not have to wear a sword.” Darcy’s eyes twinkled with amusement.

  “Do not even attempt to compare your measly sword to this . . . this . . .” Suddenly Elizabeth’s ire was halted in midsentence and her eyes opened wide. Her hand went to her belly and she looked at Darcy. “Oh William!” She whispered.

  “What is it?” He asked, on his feet and alarmed.

  “I think I felt our baby!” Her face was full of wonder.

  Darcy laid his hand over her middle. “What did it feel like?” He asked urgently.

  “It is just as Jane said, it feels like bubbles!” She laughed ecstatically. “Wait! There it is again!” She beamed up at him. “Oh William! We are going to have a baby!” Tears of joy fell down her face as she felt the fluttering again.

  Darcy pressed his hand to her, desperate to feel it himself. “I cannot feel anything through all of these clothes.” He said with frustration. There was only one thing for it. He took Elizabeth’s hand and excusing them from his sister, led her upstairs, where he quickly divested his laughing wife of her gown. “William, I am freezing!” She smiled up at him, watching him disrobe.

  “Well, let us get under the covers, my love.” He stripped back the comforter and they climbed into the bed, and wrapping his arms around her waist, placed his warm hands directly over the tiny bulge in her middle. “Now I can feel what you feel.” He whispered into her ear. Curled so snugly together, he could not resist the temptation of kissing her neck, so he began nibbling on the spot below her ear that always made her moan. As her excitement grew, so did the activity of the baby, until she gasped with surprise upon feeling more fluttering. “I felt that!” Darcy exclaimed. “Oh Lizzy! I felt that!”

  “Oh dear, do you think that every time you kiss me I will feel the response of this child?” She touched the spot on her belly.

  Darcy smiled at her, his eyes so full of love. “Let us find out.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her lips very gently, and brought his tongue to caress hers. She placed her hands over his, and they kissed tenderly for what seemed like hours. He moved his lips away from hers, suckling her neck, eliciting the soft moan that he loved so much. He stayed there, slowly torturing her with his gentle movements, while bringing his hands to fondle, ever so slowly, her enlarged and tender breasts. She was so sensitive that his feathery touch made her back arch in response. “I love you.” His warm breath filled her ear, his deep voice stirring her desire. He slowly ran his hands down her body, as she began to trace her hands down his. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and caressed his back and his sweet, dimpled bottom, drawing him down onto her, covering her completely with his hard warm body.

  “Oh Will, I love you.” She breathed, gliding her tongue down his neck, and then drawing his flesh into her mouth, leaving behind the mark of her passion.

  His mouth moved down her body, to take in her nipples. She jumped at the contact. His soft tongue laved her and then drawing her inside his mouth, he began to drink from her the way the fluttering life inside of her someday would. He stopped and looked up at her face, entranced by the pleasure he saw there. He drew himself back up to her lonely mouth and tangling his fingers into her hair, resumed his occupation of loving her lips. Satisfied that she was sufficiently sated, he returned to kissing her body.

  As he moved away, she moaned, “No, come back to me.” He moved back up and she urged him onto his back. “It is my turn, my love.”

  He smiled and watched as Elizabeth lay on top of him, running her hands over his taut muscles, revelling in the sensation of her fingers gliding up and down his tingling skin. He closed his eyes, and he felt her hair spread over his chest, knowing that soon he would feel . . . “ah, yes!” ...the extraordinary sensation of her warm mouth descending over his arousal. Her tongue, her lips, her hands all stroked and swirled about him, bringing a moan to his voice and constant shivers to his body. When she could feel the building tension in his movements, she moved away, giving them both a reprieve, and climbed back up to him, reclaiming his neglected lips. This time he wrapped his arms around her, and stroked her body with his hands, feeling every bit of her soft skin, and bringing his fingers to encase themselves within her folds. They drew their mouths apart, gazing at each other, knowing that it was time. He rolled and took her with him, finally coming to rest on top of her, his passion and desire evident in his eyes, his every touch explaining his love, and now upon entering her, his strong, steady thrusts telling her his devotion. They kept their eyes open, watching each other, feeling the power of their connection, building with their cries of need, begging for their mutual release, and finally collapsing, clutching each other, kissi
ng again and again, complete.

  The two lovers rolled apart and fell into their favourite embrace, she curled on her side, resting her head on his chest, and gradually regained their senses. “Thank you, my love.” He whispered into her ear.

  “For what, Will?” She asked, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

  “For making me a papa.” He gently kissed her cheek.

  She looked up into his warm brown eyes and smiled. “I love you, too.”

  THE GREAT DAY ARRIVED. Elizabeth and Georgiana were dressed in their feathered glory and Darcy and Lord Matlock donned the ceremonial swords. Richard wore his own military sword, and laughed while giving his father and cousin words of advice on how to sit, walk and generally move without destroying the furniture or mistakenly stabbing someone. It was with a mixture of pride and sadness that Darcy watched as Georgiana, on her uncle’s arm, walked down the gallery at St. James’, let her train fall to the floor, kissed his cheek, and entered the Presence Chamber to curtsy to the Queen and Prince Regent. She walked in with a show of confidence that he knew was gained solely by her sister Elizabeth’s work. He looked down at his wife, who smiled at him, wiping away the stray tear from his cheek. Georgiana was a child no more.

  Soon it was Elizabeth’s turn, and she performed her curtsy with the self-possession of a queen herself. Darcy’s sadness for his sister’s maturation was replaced by his swelling pride for his wife. He noted the Prince Regent’s admiration for her beauty, but chose to accept it as a compliment instead of the act of a notorious rake. They waited for Richard to appear with Kathleen. After the months of anticipation, the hours of fittings and practice, the momentous event was over, and like all momentous events, it did not meet the expectations of the participants. It was over and done in the blink of an eye, like an overly planned wedding.

  They all returned to Darcy House, and the party gratefully rushed upstairs to change. Lady Matlock and Lady Catherine were there waiting for them, along with Mark and Laura, and soon they were all together again, attired in more comfortable clothes and for the ladies, finally ready to eat something that day.