The Trouble with Mr. Darcy tds-5

by Sharon Lathan

  Darcy captured her hand, fingers lacing with hers, and pulled it in for a lingering kiss to her knuckles and light sucks to each tip.

  “Relieved, my heart?”

  “Marginally,” he responded. “Tomorrow I will construct a pallet with blankets and pillows near the fire so we can place the boys there and give us more space. Darcy House is unassailable unless one mounts a siege, and I am in command and know it is secure. I doubt I shall sleep well until then. If then.”

  Lizzy did not admonish him for overreacting. The incident that afternoon remained hazy at best, and her mind shrank from contemplating the potentials if Darcy’s conclusions were correct. She simply could not deal with it and shamelessly relegated the task to her vastly competent spouse. Knowing he was in absolute control, feeling the potency that radiated from every pore, hearing the sobriety in his voice, observing the steadfast reliability in his blue eyes, and having been witness time and again to his supreme dependability and keen intellect was enough to allay her fears.

  “I apologize for alarming you with my melodrama, dearest. In the light of day I may feel a bit foolish for reacting so. But I confess I breathe easier knowing you are safe within my reach. I could not bear anything happening to you or our children.”

  Lizzy nodded, smiling her assurance in his capabilities and understanding of his fears.

  “Sleep now. Your eyes are weary.” He brushed over her cheek, fingers yet entwined with hers, and touched her eyelids until they closed. “Sleep. I will watch over our sons. I love you.” His voice dropped to a whisper, murmuring loving devotions until her respirations were regular.

  He watched her sleep, eyes frequently drifting to the tiny body of Michael cradled against her breast and the long-limbed form of his firstborn sprawled to his left. Every muscle ached with fatigue, but he would not fall into a troubled sleep for a long while.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A Wedding in Meryton

  Darcy was jolted to semi-wakefulness late the next morning by a pair of soft but surprisingly heavy elbows landing square on his chest.

  “Papa, wake up! We need to see my toad!”

  Darcy opened bleary eyes, befuddled brain registering the anxious expression of Alexander, whose face was close enough to see two of him. Darcy blinked and groaned as remembrance seeped into fogged wits.

  “Papa!” Alexander gripped his father’s chin between pudgy fingers, shaking for attention. “Hurry! What if he is hungry?”

  Darcy nodded, reaching to encircle his son’s body for a squeeze while rubbing gritty eyes with the other hand. He looked to the right, but the bed was empty. “Where are your mother and Michael?”

  “Gone,” the boy answered unhelpfully, unconcerned over absent mother and brother or apparently confounded by waking in a bed other than his own. The issue of toad safety was far more pressing a worry!

  “Your toad is fine, I promise you. Come, let’s find your mother and attend to our own hunger. I am in need of coffee.”

  “But…”

  “Trust me, Son. He is just fine. Now give me a kiss.”

  Lizzy and Michael were in the sitting room, both consuming a morning meal, when the elder Darcy men joined them. Thus the morning began. Darcy had lain awake theorizing until the darkest hours of the night, finally falling into a deep but nightmare-filled sleep that was far from sufficient for his needs. Being continually prodded by a flipping toddler all night long did not help either. Nonetheless, his superior perspicacity prevailed and he wasted little time before executing the necessary requirements.

  He was dead serious when stating that he would not permit his three loved ones out of his sight, but of course in the light of day the realities of such a blanket statement were not as easy to arrange. Lizzy departed to bathe and prepare for her sister’s wedding, but only after being sternly reminded to keep Marguerite within shouting distance and to send for him before leaving her chambers. The nursery door was kept bolted, Mrs. Hanford instructed to open for no one other than Mr. or Mrs. Darcy. It was an odd request that baffled the nanny but was executed without question.

  Darcy performed his own toilette hastily, returning to the freshly scrubbed faces of his sons with relief. He did not think that Wickham or Orman would boldly storm Netherfield to abduct or harm his family, but he was not going to slacken his defense.

  With the boys clean and dressed, and Mrs. Hanford finally apprised of cursory details regarding her Master’s strange behavior, the four of them set out to check on the toad, who was fine as promised. With a contented Michael clasped to Darcy’s chest, they knelt beside the barrel and supplied the indifferent amphibian with three more fat worms. The baby was mildly intrigued by the animal, but was equally fascinated by the buttons on his father’s jacket. Darcy would not relinquish Michael from his arms to the nanny until they were safely sequestered in the library. And then it was only so he could speak to Colonel Fitzwilliam and Dr. Darcy in private, and the three were mere feet away within easy reach, if out of earshot.

  “Why the long face, Cousin? Wedding days are ones of rejoicing.”

  “For some perhaps.” George countered as he took the chair across from his somber nephew and smiling friend, addressing the latter with an exaggerated grimace, “I am yet mourning every bachelor I know dropping like flies in winter. Thank the Maker marriage is not a contagion.”

  “Hogwash! You smiled and danced at my wedding. If you found a lady as perfect as my Simone you would embrace the infection, I assure you.”

  “I would continue this argument and eloquently prove your misconceptions, however I sense that William is about to throttle us for misplaced jocularity. I deduce you have not summoned us here for a casual chat?”

  “Indeed you do appear more serious than usual. Did Wickham finally cross a line? I sure hope so. With all the military men floating about it would be a spectacular brawl!”

  “I fear it is worse than that.” Darcy recounted the whole tale sans any embellishments. Richard and George listened, faces growing graver by the moment.

  “It does seem rather coincidental,” George said when Darcy finished. “But as you said yourself, coincidence alone is inconclusive. Devon is a large county. I have been there several times visiting Estella and have heard nothing of this Lord Orman. The odds seem slim that Wickham would stumble across him.”

  “True, but he may have sought him out. That would not surprise me in the least as Wickham has ever conspired and schemed.”

  “Exactly my point, Richard.”

  “But, Darcy, remember that Lizzy was unsure. We must consider that.”

  “Yes,” George interjected, “but Elizabeth is not a woman prone to flights of fancy. She saw something that triggered the Marquis’s name, even if her subconscious has submerged the stimulus to that impression. I trust her instinct enough to claim caution, no matter how extreme the likelihood of these two men collaborating.”

  “That is all I am asking at this point.” Darcy nodded, his face relaxing ever so slightly.

  “We shall assist in watching over them, Son. Georgiana as well, so have no fear in that quarter. As the colonel pointed out, a veritable sea of soldiers roam the premises. It would be sheer insanity to attempt even the slightest mischief.”

  “I can offer more than that. I have connections despite my retirement. Certain men I know who are highly qualified to undertake a spy mission and would leap at the opportunity for adventure and intrigue. I will send a message immediately and with luck you will have profitable information within a fortnight.”

  “Thank you, Cousin.”

  Richard inclined his head. “Pleased to be of service. Fortunate for you I have not completely lost my edge or forgotten my expertise. My ego is boosted to be indispensable again. You owe me,” he concluded with a smug grin.

  Darcy grunted. “I am sure the tally is in my favor, Colonel. But I will concede one point as you have given me an idea. I will write to Mr. Daniels. He can quietly investigate Orman and Wickham, through legitimate c
hannels, unlike how your ‘spies’ will undoubtedly go about it.”

  George laughed. Richard merely shrugged noncommittally.

  Those tasks accomplished, there was nothing further for the three to do but maintain a cautious vigilance. No alarms were raised and no hints of unrest were allowed to disturb the joyous celebration. Not for the world would any of them wish to distress Miss Kitty’s special event.

  Shortly before noon, the crowd of witnesses converged upon the Meryton church where the eldest Bennet daughters had been married. The nondescript church was beautified with early spring blooms exuding a pleasant scent into the cool air, green vines and ribbons twined together were hung for additional color, and tall spermaceti wax candles lent a soft glow. The groom stood tall and majestic in formal military attire, the mass of ribbons and medals adorning his chest unable to vie with the proud expression on his face. The bride wore a gown of palest rose with accents all in shades of grassy green, softly woven muslin and lawn drapes that emphasized her curvy figure while maintaining proper modesty. She was a vision, and Randall nearly fainted from lack of oxygen before remembering to breathe!

  Alexander walked in front of his aunt scattering rose petals with a studied precision humorous to observe. Laughter rippled, finally eliciting a shy smile from the serious boy, who dashed to the comfort of his father’s lap the instant the last petal hit the carpeted floor.

  The sacred vows were exchanged, ring placed on the bride’s finger, and chaste kiss bestowed in a short, traditional ceremony that was nonetheless lovely and moving. The matrimonial binding of a beaming and lovely Katherine Bennet to a smiling and handsome Major General Randall Artois concluded without incident

  The undisputed happiness and love surging forth from the bride and groom was adequate to allay most of Darcy’s fears. As when sitting in the audience during Mary’s wedding, Darcy held on to his wife’s hand, absently fondling the diamond and sapphire ring on her third finger while he mentally replayed their wedding, one of the happiest days of his life. Alexander sat protectively on his lap, and Michael was secure at Netherfield with the other children too young to attend the ceremony. Georgiana sat sandwiched between Lizzy and Richard. Taken altogether, Darcy relaxed tremendously.

  Plus, it was amusing to note George Wickham’s discomfort.

  The number of soldiers of varying ranks perpetually rose higher as the morning progressed until there was practically a whole military company inhabiting Netherfield! Lydia brazenly flirted with the red-coated men, her coquettish nature and penchant for military gentlemen obviously not diminished despite her marriage. Or perhaps she missed Wickham wearing a uniform. Whatever the case, it was appalling to witness but also amusing to observe the increasing glower upon Wickham’s face.

  Darcy’s expression never changed from his usual serious politeness, but his muscles eased in the satisfaction of Wickham’s irritation. Eventually the latter collected himself, his native charm and ease overcoming his vexation. He remained unobtrusive for the most part and did not approach Darcy or his immediate family, but did a fair amount of his own flirting.

  The wedding breakfast exceeded all expectations. Netherfield’s kitchen staff performed brilliantly with an array of delicious dishes leaving none wanting. As expected for such an occasion, happiness and laughter abounded. None, of course, felt as joyous as Randall and Kitty.

  “Where did you say you were spending your wedding night?”

  “I never said and would not divulge that information even if you applied a hot poker to my skin!” Randall answered his brother Roland’s seemingly innocent query with a laugh. “I shudder to imagine what you jokers would spring on me as a special wedding gift.”

  All five of the Artois men wore wounded expressions, Reginald speaking for all of them. “We are deeply grieved that you would accuse us so, Brother. We are universal in our delight at your happiness and only wish to bestow our blessings upon your union in the most overwhelming terms. Any special gifts delivered shall be designed to enhance your wedded bliss and augment your first night as a married couple.”

  Randall snorted and rolled his eyes. “How Major Henderson tolerates your long-winded pontificating is beyond my comprehension. Your secretarial skills must be consummate.”

  “I am the best,” Reginald affirmed without a hint of equivocation, “but that is beside the point.”

  “I was guessing you planned to lodge at Uncle’s house in Oxfordshire as that is on the way to Bath,” Royce speculated, eyeing Randall and Kitty closely for a telltale response.

  He was disappointed. Kitty knew the brothers fairly well between her own interactions with the Artois family and Randall’s conversations so merely smiled benignly. Randall’s face was blank and he said nothing.

  “Quit fishing, Royce.” The eldest, Roderick, spoke finally. He gazed at his brothers with feigned reproach. “Randall never said they were going to Bath. Could just as easily be Brighton or the Lake District or…”

  “Or maybe we are sailing to France or taking the ferry to Ireland,” Randall interrupted with a laugh. “We may spend our wedding night at the inn down in Meryton, Aunt Phillip’s townhouse in London, or my house near the barracks. And, since I have mentioned all those places you can therefore conclude it will be none of them!”

  “Unless it is one of them and you mentioned it to throw us off the scent,” Royce inserted with a grin.

  Randall shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Face it, I have outwitted you so leave it be. My bride and I will have a perfect honeymoon without any interference, or ‘blessings upon our union’ from any of you.”

  “Very well then. We admit defeat to your superior intellect and skills at stealth. Clever you are, Brother, but remember that no matter where you honeymoon, after a month you will be returning to your house in London and we all know where that is!”

  Roland’s smug mien was mirrored by the others, until Randall replied, “Indeed. Bear in mind, however, that I know where all of you dwell. Retaliation would only add to the joy of my homecoming.”

  And at this point Kitty burst into gales of laughter.

  Expressing their thanks and accepting the numerous well wishes was time consuming, but the newlyweds managed to depart Netherfield by mid-afternoon. Georgiana embraced Kitty the longest, whispering her assurance that her wedding would definitely not take place until Kitty returned.

  As predicted, the newlywed Artoises were relieved not to be traveling far, although the handful of miles proved enough to wildly escalate their fervency. Randall did not unhitch the horses, instead opting to carry his wife into the house and straight to the bed. The lovely surroundings and exceeding joy in officially being husband and wife added a dimension to their lovemaking that neither had expected. Despite Randall’s assertion that he would keep his wife in bed for the whole week, they took a few long walks in the wood and enjoyed the rustic scenery before moving on to Bath. In every way imaginable it was the perfect honeymoon and an auspicious beginning to their life together. But that is for another story.

  In the meantime, the festivities at Netherfield continued until late afternoon with the guests occasionally turning their thoughts to the newlyweds but primarily enjoying the food and entertainment. Darcy and Elizabeth performed their duties as host and hostess, but did breathe a sigh of relief when the final guest departed that evening. Darcy was able to slip away with Alexander to return the toad to his riverbank home before darkness made that chore impossible. Just as dusk began to creep over the horizon, Darcy closed the wide front door, threw the latch, and fell against the thick wood to momentarily close his eyes in exhaustion.

  George laughed, encircled the weary younger man’s shoulders, and steered wordlessly to the game room where Richard, Charles, and Joshua Daniels were already chalking their cues. Several rounds of billiards and a couple of glasses of brandy were just what Darcy needed to unwind. No one brought up the subject of Wickham or Orman, instead chatting amiably about the wedding, politics, horse racing, medicine, or anyt
hing else that arose naturally. By the time Darcy rejoined his wife and sons in their chambers he was nearly restored to his old self. He kept the boys close, constructing a pallet of thick quilts by the fire that ended up being a place for extended play and story time.

  “Papa, do you think my toad happy?”

  Darcy looked into the anxious face of his firstborn, smiling and not admonishing him for interrupting the story he was reading aloud. “I am sure he is content, Son. He is with his family, just as you are, maybe reading a story to his children.”

  Alexander frowned, meditating on that information for a minute before shaking his head. “No, Papa, frogs not really read. Only in pretend.”

  Darcy laughed, pulling him closer to his side and kissing the top of his head. “Indeed you are correct. I was only teasing.”

  “Fuss no more over the toad, Alexander. Let your father finish the story. I want to hear what happens to Gulliver on Lilliput, do you?”

  Alexander nodded. Michael squealed and babbled, his hand tapping on the open page of the book Darcy held as if he concurred with his mother’s question. He was perched on his father’s left thigh, fat body bouncing and wiggling, and the silver rattle gripped in his hand waving about dangerously. He looked upward into Darcy’s face and released a stream of bilabial monosyllables that apparently translated into his wish for Darcy to recommence the reading.

  After a kiss to his second son’s head, he did, resonant voice rising and falling in a storyteller’s cadence. Michael calmed, the rattle brought to his mouth for serious gnawing as he listened to the adventures of Gulliver.

  The final restoration to Darcy’s equilibrium came once the children were asleep and Lizzy was lying snugly against his side with head resting on his shoulder. They wore nightwear and had no plans to be intimate with the children in the same room, but that did not prevent tender caressing under the concealing covers. In light of the exhausting day and extreme emotion, it was soothing to hold each other.