A Baby for Mr. Darcy

by J Dawn King

  When Georgiana’s sobs increased, Elizabeth firmly announced, “We will not allow that to happen, will we? My question to you both now is how best to proceed. Our primary objective is to protect Jem as the colonel instructed, while at the same time providing Will with the means to return to us.”

  Abigail nodded. “I have an idea how to keep Jem away from the Fitzwilliams. As we travel south, I will consider the matter to determine the finer details.”

  Elizabeth turned to Georgiana. “Mr. Shaw says your guardianship is at stake as well as Jem’s. Should Will be unsuccessful in his bid for exoneration, both you and the baby will become wards to the Lord Chancellor until your majority. He will decide where you will live. Since he is close to your uncle, your future would probably be Matlock House.”

  Settling herself, Georgiana asked, “What can I do?”

  “Gather all you need to keep yourself as warm as possible during our travels. Include practical clothing since the three of us will have sole care of the baby and he is messy. More importantly, I want you to think of all you know about your aunt and uncle to share with us. The more we know about those who have set themselves against the Darcys, the better prepared we will be.”

  Georgiana agreed.

  Elizabeth added, “My next task is to meet with Mr. Stilton, who will need to come along with us.”

  Standing, she said, “Ladies, we will need to travel quickly. Jem deeply resents the movement and noise of the carriage. This will not be a pleasure trip for any of us. Let us each have faith that our efforts will not be in vain.”

  At that, Abigail put Jem into the cradle in order to go to her room and gather her clothing. Georgiana went to her chambers to do the same. Elizabeth proceeded downstairs to Mr. Stilton’s office. After no small amount of discussion, she had his agreement.

  “Mrs. Darcy, might it not be more prudent to send the letter with an express rider directly to Mr. Shaw? The solicitor has personally served the Darcys for over twenty years. He can be trusted implicitly. Several horsemen from the Darcy stables also can be relied upon to make the long, hazardous journey quickly.”

  Elizabeth considered the matter thoroughly.

  “Mr. Stilton, I sincerely appreciate your good counsel.” She reread a portion of Mr. Shaw’s letter to Darcy’s man of business. “As the solicitor suggested, too much information that should have been private has been revealed already. The facts gathered by Mr. Huggins should never have been discovered. Yet, they were. Should Lord Matlock somehow find out about the letter from the colonel regarding Jem’s care, I cannot imagine that horrible old man would hesitate for one second to retrieve it by any means possible. Who would be the first person he would look to for recovering that letter?”

  “An express rider from Darcy’s stables.” Mr. Stilton recognized her wisdom. “What is your thinking, Mrs. Darcy?”

  “I will write a letter to my husband telling him we are leaving immediately for his estate in Scotland with Georgiana, Mrs. Mansfield, and the babe. Should Pemberley’s groom be overtaken by Lord Matlock’s men, the information will send them farther away from London and Pemberley.”

  “Your idea is sound. I shall ready myself.”

  Mr. Stilton was a man of his word. Two hours later they were on the road. The carriages had been loaded as Mr. Stilton had suggested. Although he initially rode with the ladies, all of his belongings had been placed in the smaller unmarked carriage which followed behind.

  The discussion inside the larger transport concerned the best means of seeing to everyone’s safety.

  Elizabeth addressed the others first. “My recommendation is that we have the driver follow the route that Will chose to travel to Pemberley. We will not be able to stop as often as we did on the way north, which is unfortunate for the babe.”

  Mr. Stilton spoke next. “Might I suggest that I ride in the small carriage on the main road, stopping when necessary to see if I can identify Lord Matlock’s carriage that will no doubt contain at least one maid and a nurse for the infant. Once we are beyond them, we can all move to the faster North Road to make haste to London.” He hesitated. “Wait for me, I pray you, before you enter London. If I have not contacted you before then it means Lord Matlock’s carriage was not seen. If you do not arrive at the last stop before entering town a short time after I do, I will retrace your path until I find you.”

  “How will you contact us while on the way?” Elizabeth wondered.

  “I will take one of the footmen with me. Since he accompanied you on the trip from Hertfordshire to Pemberley, he will know where you broke your journey at each day’s end. Once we spot Lord Matlock’s equipage, I will send the young man to you immediately with a specific place to meet on the main road.” He looked concerned. “While this is the most expeditious method, I am aware I will need to offer Mr. Darcy an explanation of why I abandoned three women and one baby to themselves under perilous circumstances.”

  All three ladies reassured him that they would each willingly offer their own reference to Darcy on his behalf. As the carriages pulled into the first inn where a change of horses was to be had, the small group separated. Georgiana, Abigail, and the baby sought the warmth of the fire and a hot cup of tea. Elizabeth and Mr. Stilton discussed their plans. When Elizabeth joined the ladies, Mr. Stilton continued looking over the papers he had brought.

  Three days later, the ladies were frozen and exhausted. Jem had been in a constant state of stomach upset and tears. Arriving at the Rose and Thorn Inn, the warmth of the burning fire was almost more welcome than the smell of a hearty beef ragout and the promise of a comfortable bed with a pile of quilts on top.

  The innkeeper approached Elizabeth. “Heavens above, I am grateful ye have returned, yes I am. For I promised your man that I would offer him a pint and a bowl of stew on the house.”

  He must have wondered at Elizabeth’s confusion as he asked, “Ye be Mrs. Darcy?”

  “I am,” Elizabeth was holding a sobbing Jem. Her fingers and toes were so cold, she feared she would drop the babe. Her keenest desire was to climb right inside the fireplace and sit amongst the coals until she thawed. She knew the others felt the same.

  “Then ye are most welcome. I am Hollister McAdams at your service. Come,” he waved to a table by the source of heat. “Rest yourselves until my wife and her helpers can warm enough water for each of you to soak in. A hot meal will be on the table in no time.”

  They accepted his kind offer with overwhelming gratitude.

  Mrs. McAdams delivered hot tea and muffins still warm from the oven. The innkeeper’s wife could not keep her eyes from Jem.

  “I beg your pardon, Ma’am,” she stepped close enough that she could have touched the babe with a slight movement of her fingers. “I do not know if Mr. Darcy informed you, but we lost our son the day you left. In the turmoil that followed, we failed to post what looked like important letters. I now ask your forgiveness, Mrs. Darcy. Our oversight was unthinkable despite the circumstances.”

  Elizabeth’s heart ached for the poor woman. “Was he your only son?”

  “Our only child.” Using a corner of her apron, she wiped a tear from where it rolled down her cheek.

  Abigail spoke up. “Would you be of a mind to assist me with the boy? He is a bit fretful so he could use a bit of a calm bosom to be held to after he is fed.”

  Mrs. McAdams’ smile almost lit the room. “It would be my pleasure, Madam.”

  When the two females ascended the stairs to the rooms above, Georgiana noted, “That was very kind of Mrs. Mansfield.”

  “Indeed, it was.” Elizabeth sighed. “Georgiana, we need to speak privately about what we will face in London. Before we arrive, I must tell you information that we withheld from you for your protection. You need to know it now.”

  When Mr. McAdams brought the meal, both Elizabeth and Georgiana ate as if they had not seen food in a week. As soon as the bowls were cleared, they were told their baths were ready. It was an easy decision to retire for the nig
ht.

  Elizabeth relaxed in the large tub until the water began to cool. A maid had been provided to help her wash and rinse her hair. Anxious to get settled for the night, she climbed into bed, rubbing the bottoms of her feet over the warmth where the hot bricks had been placed at the foot of the mattress.

  When she closed her eyes, horrid visions of the rumored conditions at Newgate tormented her as she imagined the terror Darcy must be facing. He must be frantic with worry about his future and that of his immediate family. Surely, he would realize she would come to him, would he not?

  Her arm snaked across the bed, wishing more than she ever considered possible that he was there with her. She missed him dreadfully. Her heart ached for him and for herself.

  Turning her face into the pillow, Elizabeth cried herself to sleep.

  Chapter 22

  The constant moans and groans inside the prison walls kept Darcy awake at night. The smells of rancid food and flesh, improper hygiene, and unsanitary conditions disgusted him. By the fourth day of his incarceration, he barely noticed the stench. But the sounds haunted him.

  Each day his staff brought him food and clean clothing. He was eternally grateful for their care. Despite knowing they would be well-reimbursed for their aid, it was a sacrifice on their part to enter the prison gates.

  Mr. Shaw came the second day then missed the third. Darcy was anxious to see him again. He had many questions requiring a thorough investigation before he would have answers.

  When his solicitor was shown into his cell, the stack of papers in his arms was so tall it threatened to spill at the slightest provocation.

  Rather than barraging his solicitor with questions, Darcy waited for the man to speak.

  “Mr. Darcy, I cannot imagine you are well so I will not inquire as to your health. The gaoler indicated I have only a short time with you. Thus, I will proceed with the business at hand.” Gesturing to the papers he had set on the cot, he began,” The majority of these files are cases that have been argued in the courts during the past several months. The time from the date of arrest to the actual trial averages four to six weeks. In the case of someone of your standing, the process is much faster. I expect you will see the Lord Chancellor within a few days.”

  Darcy nodded. The information was as he had expected.

  “I contacted Mr. Oscar Huggins as you had suggested. The man is as thorough an investigator as I have ever met. Surprisingly, he shared his methods for determining that Colonel Fitzwilliam’s son lived and that he was in your possession.”

  Finally! This was information Darcy could use.

  “Initially, his assignment was to investigate Mrs. Darcy and her family for anything the Fitzwilliams could use to terminate your marriage. Then, the task changed when Viscount Smithton was informed you had a mistress and child. Despite his acceptance of the truth of the matter, both Lord Matlock and Lady Catherine suspected something other than what at first appeared obvious. They determined to discover the identity of the woman and child.”

  He pulled a paper from the stack still in his hands. “The first source Mr. Huggins used was the ladies of Meryton. Mrs. Bennet and Miss Caroline Bingley provided the inspector with as detailed a physical description of Mrs. Milford, whom you referred to as Mrs. Mansfield, as was possible. They were the first to speculate publicly that the woman was your mistress and the babe was yours. Next, Mr. George Wickham gave a character reference of you that was scathing. This gave credence to the reports of your attachment to the unknown female. However, Mr. Bingley and at least four men who belong to your club here in London refuted the information Wickham had shared. In fact, it was your cousin, Henry, who made a casual comment about George Wickham being a consummate liar to Mr. Huggins that caused the investigator to completely dismiss anything Wickham said.”

  “Henry?” Darcy was stunned at first. Then reason hit him. “Wickham is the same age as Richard. My Fitzwilliam cousins, Wickham, and I spent our summers together growing up. Henry never wanted a servant’s son involved in our play. Apparently, his attitude has not changed.”

  “And, you can be grateful for it, Mr. Darcy.” Flipping to another page, Mr. Shaw continued with his report. “A letter received from Mrs. Darcy by her sister, Jane, gave Mr. Huggins the impetus to focus his investigation on the baby. Mrs. Darcy had explained to Miss Bennet that Mrs. Abigail Mansfield and her son of two weeks were now staying with you at Pemberley. Mrs. Darcy included that the poor woman’s husband was lost at sea.” Mr. Shaw shook his head. “That story was easy to refute. There had been no reports of a Mr. Samuel Mansfield being missing. A check of the civil records in London showed no births registered to Mr. and Mrs. Samuel and Abigail Mansfield. However, one did show up for a Major Samuel and Mrs. Abigail Milford. The record indicated the girl child did not survive the birth. The babe died a few days before the supposed birth and death of the Fitzwilliam baby.”

  Darcy groaned. He had thought the scheme he had contrived would be satisfactory. He had been wrong.

  “Mr. Huggins tracked down the physician and midwife who attended Mrs. Anne Fitzwilliam. Both of them admitted to the inspector that they had not actually confirmed the death of the infant. The physician signed the death record for both the mother and child without personally seeing the babe. They also verified Mrs. Milford’s presence in the birthing chamber and that it was she who had carried the baby away from the room.”

  Clearing his throat, Mr. Shaw added, “A quick check with the coffin maker led to the names of the women who had prepared Mrs. Fitzwilliam for burial. There was no dead babe inside the box when it was put into the ground. Once he had these details in place, he shared them with Lord Henry Fitzwilliam. When that was done, he was paid for his work, concluding his assignment for the Fitzwilliams was complete.”

  “I see,” Darcy muttered. The inspector was thorough, he had to admit.

  “Upon giving his report to the viscount, Lord Matlock recognized the name Milford as Richard’s long-time major in the army. One plus one were added together. The conclusion was that Richard had arranged for his child to be given into your care with Mrs. Milford serving as the infant’s wet nurse.”

  “All of which is true,” Darcy admitted.

  “Yes, well, I suggest you not begin a life of crime, sir. You are not skilled in that way of life, I am afraid.”

  “I will keep that in mind should I survive this arrest with my funds depleted.” Darcy could not keep the bitter sarcasm from his tone. He was gravely disappointed in himself for thinking he had done enough to protect Richard’s babe. And, he was angry. Angry at Henry for hiring Mr. Huggins. Angry at Mr. Huggins for his thoroughness. Most of all, he was angry at himself for failing his loved ones.

  He, however, had no time to spend castigating himself over his lack of criminal ability. He had work to do to clear the Darcy name of a crime and to protect his family.

  “Mr. Shaw, if matters are as you say, then Mr. Huggins will provide a written report to the court. Will that end his services to the court as far as this is concerned?”

  “I believe so,” the solicitor suggested.

  “Then, I would like to hire his services,” Darcy firmly stated. “I have questions about my Aunt Catherine de Bourgh. Specifically, I need to discover the contents of my uncle’s will, Lewis de Bourgh, 6th Baron Rosings. I have to know if he made any provisions for his only child, Anne, and/or any children she might have. I need to know what becomes of Rosings Park with Anne’s death along with any provisions for Aunt Catherine’s future.”

  As his solicitor prepared to take notes, Darcy pulled a sheaf of papers covered with questions from his writing desk, saying, “We are missing critical information I believe will clarify my situation and perhaps even make my defense more solid. Is it possible to obtain copies of the wills of the Earl of Matlock and of my cousin, the viscount? More importantly, I believe a copy of my grandfather’s will would have critical information for my case.”

  Mr. Shaw rubbed his chin. “It is poss
ible a that record of your grandfather’s will is here in London if he died here. If not, it might be kept with the diocese at his final resting place. Likely, Lord Matlock’s original will is kept at Matlock House with a copy at his solicitor’s office. I would not think your uncle would easily make this available to us.”

  “I see,” Darcy blew the air from his mouth. “Then, if Mr. Huggins could find the distant Fitzwilliam cousin who is next in the line of succession after me, we might possibly discover a reason why my aunt and uncle are pursuing this course. What is this cousin like? What is his history? What past and current connection does this man have with the house of Fitzwilliam? Why is my uncle attempting to bypass me in becoming the Earl of Matlock? All of this, I need to know.”

  “I will contact Mr. Huggins immediately upon leaving here, Sir. Do you have anything else for me?”

  “I do,” Darcy straightened his spine. “I need my own Last Will and Testament updated to include my wife, any future children, my sister, my cousin Richard, and his son James Alexander Fitzwilliam.”

  Nodding, Mr. Shaw placed the rest of his papers with the others. He closed the notebook containing Darcy's additional requests and bid Darcy goodbye. "I will return tomorrow. I have every hope that by then we will have answers to some of your questions."

  Once he was alone, Darcy began reading the paper from the top of the pile. Encouraged by the many details he was learning, Darcy leaned against the hard wall, uncaring of the cold. By the time he was at the final page, night was beginning to set. For the first time since his arrest, he felt a smidgeon of peace.

  “Mrs. Darcy,” a hushed voice sounded at the same time as a light tapping on her chamber door. “Mrs. Darcy, wake, I pray you.” The tapping sounded again.

  “Enter,” Elizabeth mumbled as she struggled to alertness. The voice was that of Mrs. McAdams. Looking through the gap in the window curtains, Elizabeth noted it was barely daylight. Struggling to sit up in bed, Elizabeth started to panic when the woman hurried inside. Jem! The journey had been so hard on him. Had his fever returned? Did a physician need to be called?