A Baby for Mr. Darcy

by J Dawn King

  Clasping the papers in his hand, Darcy wanted to throw them at Mr. Shaw when he walked into the room and seated himself close to the Earl.

  Taking a deep breath, Darcy refocused on the hearing.

  After a length of time, it was his turn to provide a defense.

  “Lord Mayor, Lord Chancellor, and the Master of the Rolls. Esteemed gentlemen, I understand the proper procedure is to provide you written evidence of my innocence, whereupon you will decide my future. With that said, I offer you a letter written in my cousin’s own hand charging me with the task of caring for the infant born to Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam and his wife, Mrs. Anne de Bourgh Fitzwilliam. If I may?”

  Mr. Shaw sat forward in his seat, as did Lord Matlock.

  Darcy waited until he was given permission to approach the bench. Keeping the other documents in his hand, he gave over the letter to the Lord Mayor. When he finished reading Richard’s letter, the Lord Mayor handed it to the Lord Chancellor. Only then was the letter read aloud to the court by the Commissioner of Oaths.

  Darcy readdressed the court when the reading was complete. “I also have in my possession a letter received at Darcy House only this morning from the father of the child himself. At this date and time, Colonel Richard Sebastian Fitzwilliam is a prisoner being held in Caen, France.” Pausing to see their response, especially that of his uncle, Darcy was pleased to see his uncle’s expression was grim. “Might I approach the bench?”

  “You may,” the Lord Mayor confirmed.

  This letter followed the same procedure as the last. As the Commissioner of Oaths read the missive, Darcy studied Lord Matlock.

  Dear Darcy,

  I do hope this letter is placed into your hands before you stand before the judges at the Old Bailey. That my father would do this is shameful, an offense to the Fitzwilliam name.

  Cousin, I have in my possession the sweetest little baby as could ever be. James Alexander Fitzwilliam, or Jem as we call him, is a delight. I cannot believe this child came from Annie and me. He smiles often and brings me such joy that I am at a complete loss for words to tell you how it makes me feel. I pray that soon you and your Elizabeth will anticipate your own child. Only then will you know my happiness.

  Yes, despite being a captive of that wily Frenchman, I am content. Mrs. Milford, upon discovering that she was a widow, agreed to become my bride. We married the same day she and Jem arrived. As you know, in the decade I have spent with the Milfords, I have known her to be an extraordinary woman. She loves Jem as her own. I do not doubt that we will be a solid family, who will grow to love each other dearly.

  Darcy, I never dreamed when I tasked you with caring for my son that you would end up at Newgate. Before she died, Anne and I agreed that you were the only family member we could trust to raise our boy the way we wanted, as a happy child. You are the best guardian we could have asked for. That you and your wife were able to see to his safe delivery to me speaks more than words of your diligence and love for my son and me.

  Should this letter be read to the court, I ask the judges now, why are you giving no credence to my written direction to have Darcy as my son’s guardian? What British law allows you to hold a man in prison who has done nothing more than obey my clear command? This is a travesty! I have devoted my whole adult life to fighting for the freedoms every citizen of England deserves by law. Yet, you took my cousin’s freedom away. In so doing, you persecuted a good man. You caused his wife and sister untold suffering. As I said earlier about my father, shame on all of you. If you see your way to enforce true justice, you will release him immediately without penalty. Then, I pray you look at the sins of my father in his using you, the highest court in England, to accede to his demands.

  With all sincerity,

  Colonel Richard Sebastian Fitzwilliam

  There was a long moment of complete silence. Not a cough. Nor a whisper of paper being moved. It was as if the whole world had stopped.

  Darcy offered a quiet prayer.

  Mumblings began in the gallery. Shouts from the onlookers stirred Lord Matlock. His uncle glared at Darcy, his face a deep red as he sputtered with indignation. Clearly, his uncle was livid. Mr. Shaw had turned a turbid shade of pale beige.

  In a matter of seconds, the courtroom burst into an uncontrolled furor.

  With little success, the bailiff attempted to bring the room to order.

  Wary of believing the crowd’s response that he should be let go, Darcy cleared his throat. Speaking above the noise, he addressed the bench, “I have one more document I would like to bring to the attention of the Lord Chancellor. My preference would be that he read it in private consultation with my uncle, Hugh Fitzwilliam, Lord Matlock, and myself.”

  “Does this pertain to the guardianship of Lord Matlock’s grandson?” the Lord Chancellor asked.

  “No, it does not.” Darcy clearly stated.

  The crowd quieted at the exchange, apparently unwilling to miss a word.

  “Bring it forward.”

  Darcy approached and handed the report from Mr. Huggins directly to the Lord Chancellor.

  As the judge read the report, the clerks became unsettled at the change in procedure. The Lord Mayor usually held precedence in the courtroom. The honor of receiving the document should have gone to him.

  When the Lord Chancellor finished the report, he folded the pages in half and placed them directly in front of himself. Keeping one hand on the parchment, so it would not be disturbed by others, he consulted with the Lord Mayor. The earl leaned towards the men to eavesdrop on their conversation.

  Clearing his throat after the Lord Mayor nodded his agreement, the Lord Chancellor spoke. “Mr. Fitzwilliam James Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire, you are found innocent of all charges against you. Nevertheless, rather than telling you that you are now free to go, I ask that you meet me in my chambers.” Turning to Darcy’s uncle, the judge addressed him, “You will come as well.”

  Glancing at Mr. Stilton and Parker, their smiles were eclipsed by the young boy seated behind them. Darcy knew that grin and those sparkling eyes. Good heavens! Elizabeth had dressed as a boy and hidden herself in the courtroom.

  He wanted to break out in joyous laughter. Rather than call attention to her, he shook his head at her boldness instead.

  When the bailiff came to escort him to the room behind the bench, he could not help one last look in her direction. She was gone.

  What a woman! Never had he been so grateful she was his wife.

  The tension in the chambers was so thick it felt heavy on Darcy’s shoulders. Taking the offered chair next to where his uncle sat, he said nothing, waiting for the Lord Chancellor’s reaction to the report.

  “Hugh, is it true that your sons Henry and Richard Fitzwilliam are not a product of your marriage? That, instead, they were born of your cousin Gerald Fitzwilliam and a woman named Miss Millicent Bagwell, who died giving birth to the youngest boy? Is it also true that you were not wed to Lady Helen Alderman until after you were given custody of the two boys by Gerald Fitzwilliam?”

  His uncle said nothing, merely shrugged.

  Irritated, the Lord Chancellor, continued, “Is it also true that you have no progeny by your wife or any other woman? Is it true that you never signed the baptismal certificate for those two children to legally claim them as your own?” The Lord Chancellor pounded his fist on his desk. “Tell me now, Hugh Fitzwilliam. Have you kept the illegitimacy of both of your sons a secret to secure the earldom according to your personal direction? Was it your intent to do the same with the son of Colonel Fitzwilliam?”

  “I...I...” Lord Matlock muttered until the Lord Chancellor commanded him to speak up. “I have only wanted what is best for my family.”

  “A paltry excuse, Hugh.” Consulting the notes in front of him, he added, “Illegitimate children cannot inherit a title. Property can be deeded to them as long as it is not tied to the earldom, but a Fitzwilliam holding the title of Earl of Matlock ends with you.”

&n
bsp; “But...” Lord Matlock began to complain when the Lord Chancellor interrupted him.

  “No, Hugh. What you have done is wrong. Since you attempted to hide your egregious crime, your actions will be reported to the House of Lords at their next meeting. At that time, you will lose your exalted position in the House, as well as the respect of your peers. As well, I have no doubt that Henry Fitzwilliam will be stripped of the title of Viscount Smithton.”

  “You cannot,” Darcy’s uncle insisted. “I am the Earl of Matlock. I can do as I please.”

  “No, you cannot.” The judge turned towards Darcy. “As I understand matters, neither your Aunt Catherine de Bourgh nor your uncle have viable offspring. Is this correct?”

  “It is. The only child of Baron Rosings was born of his relationship with a woman other than Lady Catherine. My aunt had no children.”

  The Lord Chancellor nodded. “According to the letters patent creating the position of Earl of Matlock with the succession going to heirs of the body not heirs-male, you, Mr. Darcy, as the sole male descendant of any of the three Fitzwilliam children of the prior Earl of Matlock, will be the heir apparent with all of the inheritances gained from the position after the decease of your uncle. While you will not bear the courtesy title of Viscount Smithton, as it would only go to the true eldest son of the current earl if he had sired such a man, you will benefit greatly from the succession. Upon Hugh Fitzwilliam’s death, you will become Earl of Matlock.”

  “No!” Lord Matlock jumped from his chair. “You cannot do this. I have worked too hard to ensure a Fitzwilliam remains in a position of power. You cannot take Henry’s title away. Lady Olivia is increasing. Their son should be the next to inherit after Henry.”

  “It is done, Lord Matlock. From this day forward, I will no longer acknowledge you as a friend. I will not support any efforts you make to reclaim Colonel Fitzwilliam’s son, nor will I allow you to do any more harm to your nephew, Mr. Darcy. You are finished, sir. Now, remove yourself from my office.”

  Calling for the bailiff, Lord Matlock was escorted from the room.

  Shaking his head at the situation, the Lord Chancellor studied Darcy.

  “I am an honest man. For years I had assumed your uncle was as well.”

  “My Lord, I believed the same.” Darcy hesitated before speaking, then decided to be as bold as his wife. “Had Inspector Huggins not found this information, had my uncle succeeded in keeping Richard’s letters from the court, I would have had no proof of my position of guardian to young James Alexander. What would have become of me then?”

  The judge sat back in his chair. “One of the reasons I was pleased the Crown appointed me Lord Chancellor was the opportunity to protect defenseless children. In so doing, I would have imposed severe penalties upon you. While your uncle wanted you to hang, my sentence would have likely been transport to Australia for life.”

  “I see,” Darcy shuddered. “With me out of the way, I could see my uncle gaining guardianship of both Richard’s son and my sister. This would have given him control of Matlock, Rosings Park, and Pemberley’s futures. His power would have been immense.”

  “Which appears to have been his desire,” the Lord Chancellor admitted. “I have witnessed the same too many times. The corruptive influence of greed for predominance has ruined better men. The loss of respect Hugh Fitzwilliam will suffer after word gets out will be just punishment for the man. He will lose what he values most.”

  “Thank you, my Lord.” Darcy stood once the other man did. “Under your oversight, justice has been served.”

  After discussing a few other items, Darcy left the chambers. He had not taken two steps from the room when Mr. Stilton, Parker, and Mr. Huggins approached.

  “Please allow me to express my appreciation for all that you have done while I was confined. The attention you gave to me and my family is invaluable.”

  “Sir, while I do appreciate your kind words, I beg you to return to Darcy House as soon as possible.” Mr. Stilton pulled at Darcy’s arm. “Your wife and sister will be desperate to learn the results of the day. I would not like to see either of the ladies any more unhappy or anxious than they already have been.”

  Darcy smiled to himself. His wife. His darling bride had most likely already shared her report with Georgiana.

  Longing to join in their celebration, he said, “Then let us go home.”

  Chapter 30

  Darcy’s return to Darcy House was as expected. Elizabeth, dressed demurely in proper clothing as was her wont, jumped into his arms. Kissing every inch of his face, her happiness was shared by the staff, who gathered in the entrance hall.

  “I am very pleased you are here,” Elizabeth whispered in his ear, nearly robbing him of breath.

  “Yes, I am here to stay,” he was delighted to tell his wife.

  “Welcome home, Mr. Darcy.” Dobbs ushered the servants back to their positions. “Parker has ordered a bath. Cook is preparing your favorite dishes as we speak.”

  Darcy nodded, never taking his eyes from his lovely wife.

  Georgiana ran down the stairs, squealing all the way. Wrapping her arms around her brother and his wife, she bounced until Darcy finally pulled her tightly into his embrace.

  “I have heard wonderful things about you, Georgie,” he spoke above her noise, silencing her.

  “You have?” Suddenly timid, she calmed herself, stepping back with lady-like deportment.

  “Yes, my dear,” Darcy chuckled. “Mr. Stilton and Elizabeth have sung your praises until I almost burst my jacket buttons with pride.”

  She curtsied. “Now that you are home, Brother, I will return to my practice so you will have time alone with your wife.” Georgiana took one of his hands in hers. Looking up at him, she smiled. “I love you, William. Welcome home.”

  Reverting to the habits of her tender years, she ran back up the staircase.

  “What have you done to that girl?” Darcy asked.

  “She is growing up, my dearest,” Elizabeth said. Then she placed his hand back where it had been tightly wrapped around her waist. “Let us speak of her later, Will.”

  Darcy nodded. Then he kissed her with as much passion as could be imagined between a deeply loving couple. Temporarily satisfied, they moved to the privacy of the sitting room between their two chambers.

  “Will, how is it that we missed the difference in handwriting between your cousin’s letter and the one Mr. Stilton copied?”

  “This is what you want to know from me? Not, are you well, my dearest? Did you miss me as much as I missed you, my sweet? Are you not deliriously overjoyed at being back at Darcy House, my beloved?” He chuckled.

  “You, silly man,” she burrowed in to kiss his neck, moving as close to him as she could be without actually sitting on his lap. “Each day I visited you at Newgate, you showed me your true feelings without question. Now, pray answer me.”

  “Very well,” Darcy pretended to huff. “Mr. Stilton has long prided himself on copying the penmanship in addition to the words. He is rather proud of his skill. Where I used to tease him on occasion for his fastidiousness, I will laud him from now on for being thorough.”

  “My darling, what will happen to Mr. Shaw?” Elizabeth’s curiosity was a vital part of her that he loved dearly. He would never have had a boring, complacent wife.

  “I spoke with the Lord Chancellor about my former solicitor. As is common with English law, the burden of filing charges, producing evidence and witnesses, and prosecuting him would be mine. The outcome would be either pecuniary, transport, or hanging for the bribery against an heir apparent to an earldom, which apparently I now am.”

  “What did you decide? Surely, you cannot allow him to continue practicing law after accepting a bribe, can you?” she asked.

  “Not at all.” Darcy kissed her temple, grateful the sofa in the sitting room was small enough to keep Elizabeth close. “Bribery is a violation of the trust between a solicitor and his client. I weighed the many years of faithful se
rvice to my family against the atrocious act he committed against me. In doing this, my course became clear. Before I left the courtroom, I filed charges against him with the recommendation that he be transported for a period of seven years. The Lord Chancellor, moved by his regret for believing and supporting my uncle against me, has agreed to oversee the prosecution himself. Mr. Shaw is as good as gone.”

  Elizabeth considered his words carefully. “Will, as soon as a petition can be made to the Crown Office of the House of Lords, you will become Fitzwilliam Darcy, heir apparent. How good that sounds.”

  He harrumphed. “I have never wanted a title, nor have I ever been envious of Henry for his position. I certainly never wanted to be Earl. For my whole lifetime, my uncle has been Lord Matlock. Yet, as I consider what this will mean to my cousins, I realize this provides me the opportunity to extend my reach in Derbyshire to Matlock. I will be as attentive to that property as I am to Pemberley. Of course, all of this is moot as long as my uncle lives, which I desperately hope is a very long time.”

  “What of your uncle? How do you suppose he will respond when tomorrow’s circulating newspapers are full of his treachery and lies?” Elizabeth patted Darcy’s chest.

  “I fully suspect he will close up Matlock House in town to retire to Derbyshire unless Henry and Lady Olivia desire to remain. I cannot imagine a circumstance where I will ever see my uncle again.”

  “And, your aunt?”

  “Lady Catherine?” Darcy frowned. “When Richard, Abigail, and Jem return from France, she will be tossed from Rosings Park with no option to remain, I have no doubt. I suspect she will seek out her brother at Matlock to beg room and board from him.”

  Darcy rubbed his jaw with his free hand. “The estate belongs to baby Jem. This will provide Richard with the opportunity to leave the army. In fact, it will be incumbent upon him to become a landed gentleman of leisure. That he is the actual son of Gerald Fitzwilliam rather than Uncle Hugh means that he will be lower in rank than most landowners. However, I cannot see that bothering my cousin. He has always been far more unimpressed with the elevated sphere he was raised in than most. Henry, on the other hand, will suffer.”