A Baby for Mr. Darcy

by J Dawn King

  “Mrs. Darcy, there are men here asking about you. They say they saw your coach. There are four of them.” She gulped. “As soon as they spied your carriage in the yard, they came in and demanded my husband present you to them. Immediately."

  Fear churned through Elizabeth. “Did they say where they are from?”

  “Oh, aye,” Mrs. McAdam’s grabbed Elizabeth’s dress from the peg by the door, shaking it out so Elizabeth could pull it over her head. “They said they are representatives of Lord Matlock. They said you have to obey them immediately. Without question.” She paused. "I am so sorry. You must come."

  Turning, Elizabeth grabbed her arm. “They want the baby. Go, wake Mrs. Mansfield. She knows what to do. Mrs. McAdams, can she be removed from the inn without gaining the attention of those men?”

  “Aye,” Mrs. McAdams handed Elizabeth her brush. “One of our grooms can be trusted. Max will see to their escape. Do not you worry yourself, Mrs. Darcy. This is the least we can do for you.”

  When the innkeeper’s wife rushed from the room to see to her task, Elizabeth took in a deep breath then let it out slowly. It would be up to her to distract the men. She had to smile when she heard Mrs. McAdams yell from the top of the stairs to the floor below where the public rooms were, “The mistress had to be woke up, the laze-a-bed. It will probably take some time for her to be ready to greet you, I imagine. She will take a tray in her room, then be downstairs pretty soon, I am sure.”

  Mrs. McAdams was a heavy woman, so it was easy to discern when her tread passed Elizabeth’s door again on the way to the end of the hallway. She was rousing Abigail as asked.

  Grabbing the important letter from Richard, Elizabeth tightly folded it to tuck into a hidden pocket on the inside of her dress. Making sure that all was secure, she went to wake Georgiana. If things worked in the way she hoped, Abigail and the baby would be long gone from the inn while she and Georgiana would have an escort of four strong men to London. Saying a quick prayer for all to work out well, she stepped outside her room.

  Chapter 23

  Abigail Milford had learned much from listening quietly as her husband and the colonel discussed military tactics and strategy. She knew when to be quiet and when to speak. She knew when to settle herself and when to run. Right then, she needed to run.

  Carrying a sleeping Jem down the back stairs of the inn, she followed Mrs. McAdams through a back alley until they stopped in the quiet of a church graveyard not one hundred feet away. Fortunately, they could not be seen from the inn.

  “Remain here,” the innkeeper’s wife whispered. “Max will be along any moment to take you where you need to go.” Hurrying back to the inn, the woman turned and gave a brief wave before entering the secluded alley.

  Abigail wondered if she would ever see the woman again. The journey she would undertake with the baby was fraught with peril. Yet, in truth, she had no other option.

  Wishing she had brought another blanket to wrap herself and the baby in, Abigail heard the jingle of a harness and the slow plodding gait of a team of horses approaching. Expecting the groom named Max to descend from the carriage, she was shocked to see Mr. Stilton. Glancing up at the driver she found him to be one of Mr. Darcy’s staff.

  “Come,” Mr. Stilton signaled. “We have no time to waste.”

  Neither of them spoke until they were outside the small market town. Fortunately, Jem remained asleep.

  “Mr. Stilton, how did you manage to find me?” Abigail asked.

  “I did not meet one of Lord Matlock’s carriages on the North Road until late yesterday,” Mr. Stilton shifted on his bench to give her more room to stretch her legs. “I will admit to some surprise that the Fitzwilliams had not sent anyone to retrieve the baby when they first heard about young Master Fitzwilliam. What caused their delay, I believe we will never know. As soon as our horses were rested, we set out to meet you, staying at an inn not far from here. Before dawn broke this morning, we were back on the road. I happened upon Mrs. McAdams, who I had interviewed concerning Mr. Darcy’s delayed letters. She recognized me as well, telling me of the danger you were in. Thus, here we are.”

  She was so happy to see him. The idea of having to make her own way with a baby had almost overwhelmed her. Never in her lifetime had she traveled such a distance alone.

  “Are your plans firm in your mind,” Mr. Stilton asked.

  “They are.” Abigail repeated them to herself, then decided she had no reason to withhold them from Mr. Darcy’s trusted man of business. “I am to go to the kitchen entrance at the Grey Squirrel pub in Dover. There I will ask for Marie Celeste. She is the contact who will arrange my transport. I have in my reticule the funds for my expenses including her fee and the four pounds thirteen shillings crossing fee. The trip from Dover to Calais averages eight hours in good weather. From there to Paris by hired coach will be four to five days. Should I be arrested on French soil, I will beg to be taken to the same prison as my husband. There, it is hoped that Jem and his father will be reunited.”

  “Are you sure about this course, Mrs. Milford? The danger cannot be minimized.”

  “I am certain. Over the years, Napoleon has been far more agreeable to British citizens seeking asylum on French soil than to those who want to leave. In spite of the efforts of the physician Edward Jenner, who has in the past been able to secure the liberation of British prisoners from France, the number of those actually returning to England is miniscule. There is a large community of British citizens permitted to visit or reside in Paris such as Colonel Arthur Annesley, Charles Jerningham, Lovell Edgeworth, Charlotte, Elizabeth, and Henry Wolseley, John Daniel, the Reverend Robert Bland, as well as others. I will be in good company. In addition, my French is good enough that I might be able to pass myself off as a refined Frenchwoman seeking a return to her homeland. But that is not my intent. As long as my husband is in custody, I will gladly share his fate.”

  “Then I wish you well,” Mr. Stilton asserted.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  A large bump in the road caused the carriage to jolt hard enough that it woke Jem. A lengthy period was spent tending his needs. By the time he was asleep, Abigail decided the course of wisdom was to try to do the same. Her active mind refused to allow it.

  Oh, to see Samuel again. To see the elation on the colonel’s face when he would finally hold his own son. All of the expectant joy would make the sojourn across the English Channel worth every effort.

  “I am sorry to have to tell you that the babe did not travel well. He woke this morning with a fever. We will need to remain here a few days until his health allows him to travel. He is still so young and fragile.”

  Elizabeth had no qualms about giving false information to Lord Matlock’s men. When they insisted that they at least see the babe, she said, “You will not.”

  At that moment, Mrs. McAdams descended the stairs with a pile of soiled cloths and other items in her arms. Elizabeth pointed towards her, “There, you see abundant evidence that a sick baby is upstairs being well-tended by those who have his best interests at heart. If you will excuse me?”

  Offering them a small curtsey, she turned from them and returned upstairs. Going straight to Georgiana’s rooms, she tapped on the door.

  “Who is it?” asked the muffled voice inside.

  “It is Elizabeth, Georgiana.”

  Immediately the door was thrown open. Commending Darcy’s sister for her caution at not opening for just anyone, Elizabeth went across the room to look out of the window. Abigail and Jem had been gone for at least an hour. Mrs. McAdams had whispered to her the presence of Mr. Stilton with his carriage. At the least, Elizabeth did not need to worry that Abigail was alone. For that she was grateful.

  “Georgie, dear, let us discuss the truths that we know and the lies I have told.” Elizabeth waited for the girl to settle before she continued. “First, let us start with George Wickham.”

  Georgiana puckered her face at the mention of the man.

  “Wil
l told you about the debts he left behind along with the ruined ladies. You also know about his engagement to Miss Mary King from Meryton. What you may not know is his role in what has happened to your brother.”

  Georgiana gasped.

  “Yes, it is true. Will was able to stop at Darcy House long enough to gather some funds and write a note to me. While there, in sauntered Mr. Wickham acting as if he was the King of England. He let it be known to the constable, your brother’s staff, and those strong men Lord Matlock hired to restrain Will that he would see to your future and that of Pemberley once your brother was dead. How does that make you feel about the man?”

  Elizabeth’s words were harsh. But they were not the worst she needed to share with Georgiana.

  The younger girl’s fists were clenched. Her hands shook. Her faced turned as red as a ripe tomato. Several times Georgiana opened her mouth. Each time she was unable to speak. Growls, resembling a feral cat surrounded by angry dogs, burst from her lips. Finally, she regained enough control to find her voice.

  “How despicable! How arrogant! Oh, Elizabeth, how I would love to take one of William’s dueling pistols and shoot George Wickham through the heart. That is, if he has a heart.” Georgiana stood to pace back and forth from the side of the bed to the wall. Over and over she walked the floor until she suddenly stopped. Raising one fist, she proclaimed, “If he was here right now, I would bloody his nose. I would hit him so hard his front teeth would pop right out. Then he would be a sight. Oh, how I wish I had a cricket bat. I would swing as fast as I possibly could, striking him on the side of his head until he saw wiggling wickets when he regained consciousness. I would...I would...” Angry tears poured down her cheeks. “I wish him dead, Elizabeth. Does that make me a bad person?”

  Keeping to her seat, Elizabeth reassured her. “No, it means you wish the torment Mr. Wickham has caused the Darcy family to stop, am I correct?”

  At Georgiana’s nod, Elizabeth continued, “Dear sister, I am afraid there is more you need to know about your brother’s situation.”

  Georgiana sat back down, collapsing on the bed.

  A memory of both Lydia and Kitty often doing the same reminded Elizabeth just how young Georgiana was.

  “Although we shared some information with you on our journey from Derbyshire to here, what you have not yet been told is that Mrs. Abigail Mansfield is, in fact, Mrs. Milford. Her husband, Major Samuel Milford is not lost at sea. Rather, he is captured with your cousin Richard in France.”

  “Then...who...why...” Georgiana appeared to be attempting to regain her balance.

  “Dear sister, Abigail’s daughter died days before little Jem was born.”

  “How is that possible? Were they twin children?”

  “No, the babies are unrelated. You see,” Elizabeth hesitated, somehow hoping Georgiana would figure the situation out. When she did not, Elizabeth said, “Jem is the son of Richard and Anne Fitzwilliam.”

  “What? But he died with Anne,” she said in disbelief.

  “That is what Richard and Will wanted everyone to believe. Your cousin was aware of how badly his father and your aunt wanted a boy to raise to be as greedy for power as they are. He would not do that to his son. Therefore, he entrusted the baby’s care to your brother. Will, in turn, chose to take a wife whom he knew would be willing to care for the child in addition to becoming a support to him.”

  “Jem is not Mrs. Mansfield’s—I mean, Mrs. Milford’s babe? He is Richard’s? He is my second cousin?” With each phrase Georgiana’s excitement grew. “So, that is why he has the Fitzwilliam chin. I wrote to George that I thought he looked like a Fitzwill...uh-oh!” Chagrined, she clapped her hand over her mouth to bring her rambling to a halt. Whispering between her fingers, Georgiana moaned, “What have I done?”

  “I had suspected you must have written something you did not want to tell us, Georgiana. From this point on we need to be completely honest and open with each other. You were asked to share your knowledge of the Fitzwilliam family with us on the way here. You did not. I am wondering why you withheld that information from us?” Elizabeth kept her gaze fixed on Georgiana.

  “In truth, I did not think I knew anything of particular importance.” She rushed to say. Then, Georgiana added, “How young and foolish you must think me, Elizabeth.” The girl’s head tipped down until her chin brushed the fabric of her gown.

  “No, I think you young and unschooled in matters relating to communicating details to another.” Elizabeth admitted, causing Georgiana’s countenance to lift. “We, you and I, need to be direct in our speaking to each other. We do not want to miss something important that could be used to help Will gain his freedom. But for right now, there are four men downstairs who were sent by your uncle to find us and take Jem back to London.”

  “No, we cannot allow it,” Georgiana blurted. “What are we to do?”

  “Georgie,” Elizabeth patted the girl’s hand. “Abigail and Jem left early this morning to hide. Mrs. McAdams said Mr. Stilton met them and will take them where no one would think to look for them.”

  “Pray, do not tell me,” Georgiana begged. “I would not want a slip of my loose tongue to endanger them.”

  “Very well,” Elizabeth agreed. “Do keep them in your thoughts and prayers, my dear. Their travels will be rough on all of them.”

  “I will!” Georgiana paused. “You mentioned lies you have told. Was that about the hidden identity of Mrs. Milford and Jem?”

  Elizabeth chuckled. “Not at all. I informed the men downstairs that Jem became ill from three days spent inside a freezing carriage. To promote this falsehood, we will remain here for the next four days. During that time, I will on occasion ask that you pretend a cramping in your stomach so the local apothecary will be called. Each time he comes, Mrs. McAdams will announce to Lord Matlock’s men that the ‘little one’ is ill. Pray rest assured that we will not allow him to bleed you or treat you. Any medications will be thrown into the chamber pot to be discarded by Mrs. McAdams herself. This ruse will restrict us to the inn when I know we both yearn to be with your brother. Nonetheless, this will allow Mr. Stilton and Abigail the chance to make good their escape.”

  “I can do it, Elizabeth. I will pretend I have started my courses. I will not mind having warm bricks on my stomach until we are ready to depart. No, I would not mind at all.”

  Grinning, the two plotted their personal entertainments for the next few days. Elizabeth was gratified with the reaction of Darcy’s sister. She could not wait to share Georgiana’s progress with Darcy. She could not wait to see him, to touch him, to kiss him. Oh, but she missed him.

  Each day her love and respect for her husband grew. He was, by far, the most honorable man of her acquaintance. And the most handsome. And the best dancer. And the best at kissing.

  Sigh!

  Chapter 24

  Over the next three days, Mr. Shaw and his clerks sent over multiple files, filled with needed information, to Darcy’s cell at Newgate. The case studies provided needed distraction from the clamor surrounding him.

  The day before, Darcy had paid his keeper for the privilege of bathing. The bribe had been astronomical. Being refreshed was worth every shilling.

  He settled in to read the court record of one Frances Patterson who was arrested on the 26th day of March of the year 1810 for feloniously stealing a five-pound note, nine one-pound bank notes, and a small knife from a residence where she was employed. Skipping to the end of the document, Darcy discovered she was sentenced to death. Seventy-two days she was imprisoned before her trial and execution. If the court would do this to a woman who stole relatively little, what would it do to him, a man of means who they believe stole a baby from an earl? He shuddered at his prospects.

  Darcy had already been at Newgate for seven days. According to his solicitor, Darcy could be called in to stand before the Lord Chancellor at any time. The wait was excruciating.

  Worry about Elizabeth, Georgiana, and baby Jem was almost debilitat
ing. A note from Pemberley had arrived the previous morning, written in Elizabeth’s hand, telling him they would be hiding in Scotland to protect the baby. The plan was good. But he needed her desperately.

  Setting the court case aside, Darcy studied his hands, hands that had held Elizabeth, caressed her tenderly. The memory of her scent, the saucy glance she gave before teasing him, and her beautiful smile almost had him undone. Before Elizabeth came into his life, he had never imagined a woman could so captivate and enthrall him. Every inch of her, from head to toe, inspired him. She transformed him. Each moment they spent together was exquisite. Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy was a marvel.

  Gathering the papers back into his hands, he began reading, hoping to find some bits of information that would prove useful to him. He wanted to be free to love his wife for a long lifetime. He needed to love her. He desperately needed to be loved by her. He needed her now.

  Although Matlock’s men had been diligent in finding Elizabeth, they were basically a lazy sort. A sick baby—as the men supposed Jem was— would keep them in a cozy inn during the harsh weather. Plenty of food, ale, and card games were enough to keep them from complaining. They could justify their comforts as being for the sake of the babe. Lord Matlock would surely agree.

  Hah! Elizabeth secretly scoffed at all four of them.

  From speaking to Mr. McAdams, Elizabeth knew they were approximately forty miles north of London. The journey from London to Dover was almost another eighty miles. The constant rain mixed with snow during late January would keep the escapees from making rapid progress. The weather would do the same for the Darcy ladies.