The Darcys of Pemberley

by Shannon Winslow

  The party from Heatheridge arrived first that afternoon. Mr. Bingley alighted, handed out his sister Caroline, and then assisted his wife from the carriage. There was no disguising Jane’s condition any longer; she had grown large with child in the weeks since the ball. Her altered form and weight now required that change of posture and movement so typical of expectant mothers. Observing her, Elizabeth thought her sister had never looked more beautiful.

  The three Bingleys had just got inside when Mr. Sanditon’s carriage came into view. He brought with him the ladies from the cottage as well as Mr. Thornton. So the group was complete excepting one. Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived just before dinner.

  Considering that delay would only prolong her misery, Georgiana had resolved to face the inevitable discomfort of meeting the colonel straightaway. Yet, when the moment was upon her, her nerve failed, and she was unable to force her feet in his direction. This did not long spare her, since the gap that the lady found so impassable was soon easily closed by the gentleman himself.

  At Fitzwilliam’s approach, Georgiana’s rehearsed speech deserted her. Her practiced countenance fell into disarray. She averted her eyes as she tried desperately to regain her composure.

  Elizabeth, who was already on alert for signs of trouble, saw Georgiana’s panicked expression. She was prevented from coming to her aid, however, by Caroline Bingley, who interposed herself to inquire after the welfare of the Bennet family.

  “Georgiana, my dear, how well you look,” said Fitzwilliam. “I was distressed when you became ill the last time I was here. I am delighted to find you now so completely recovered.”

  She managed a weak thank-you, her eyes still focused the floor.

  After waiting in vain for anything further, the colonel following her gaze downward and teased, “Your shoes are quite lovely, my dear. Are they new? Is that why you study them so sincerely, or is your old friend too terrifying to look at?”

  The colonel’s playful manner, usually so disarming, failed to put Georgiana at ease. “Forgive me,” she mumbled. “I was thinking of something else.”

  “Of course.”

  Georgiana then launched into her planned greeting. “I am glad you were able to come tonight, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I hope you will have a pleasant evening,” she said rather stiffly.

  “Goodness, how formal we are today, ‘Miss Darcy.’ Perhaps I should have dressed a level higher,” he said with amusement.

  Georgiana gave him a wan smile. “Will you please excuse me, Colonel? I must see to the other guests.” She left Fitzwilliam standing there with a bemused look upon his face, more diverted than offended at the young lady’s odd behavior. Dinner was then announced, bringing the awkward episode to a close.

  As Elizabeth promised, Georgiana found that her seat was at one end of the table with her brother and Mr. Sanditon, whilst Colonel Fitzwilliam’s chair was at the opposite end with his hostess and Miss Bingley. The rest of the guests were arranged in between, providing an effective buffer. In normal conversation, what was said at one extremity could not be heard by those at the other, sparing Georgiana the troubling sound of the colonel’s voice during the first portion of the meal.

  In place of that familiar accent, which was too painful to attend at present, Georgiana hung on every word of the cordial discourse between Mr. Sanditon and her brother. She gave each succeeding topic her full attention, participating in the conversation and even laughing from time to time.

  Meanwhile, Miss Bingley waged a campaign of similarly concentrated interest on Colonel Fitzwilliam. With all the effort she exerted to charm him, it was obvious Caroline did not know that the man had lately withdrawn himself from the marketplace by becoming engaged. With Miss Bingley’s special attentions becoming too overt to be gracefully ignored, the colonel had no choice but to enlighten her about his current status.

  “Engaged to Miss de Bourgh?” she repeated after him in an unnecessarily loud voice.

  “Yes, just recently, in fact,” replied the colonel.

  Since this exchange happened to occur during a lull in the conversation of the others, it was perfectly audible to everyone in the room and set off a wave of well-wishing for the colonel’s future happiness.

  With all eyes trained on Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth was the only one to note Georgiana’s stricken expression. She was visibly shaken, and for a moment Elizabeth feared she would flee the room as she had done before. This time, however, Georgiana held her ground. She remained resolutely in her seat, reorganized her face into a smile, and even made a respectable show of joining the celebration of the colonel’s good fortune.

  ~*~

  The rest of dinner passed uneventfully, and the ladies adjourned to the drawing room. There the subject turned to Jane’s upcoming blessed event, which was of interest to all. Jane, as the first of those assembled to experience being with child, answered the curiosity of the others as candidly as her modest sensibilities would allow.

  With infants still the topic, Georgiana asked Ruth Sanditon, “How are the little girls at Reddclift?”

  “Mr. Sanditon has children, then?” Miss Bingley blurted out. “More good news. This evening seems to be full of happy surprises,” she said, her words dripping with caustic sarcasm.

  “Yes, Miss Bingley,” answered Ruth. “Daughters, two and four years of age. Charlotte and I see them frequently when we dine at the great house. They are delightful little creatures – all blonde hair and blue eyes – and sweet natured too. Their nurse manages them very efficiently, I daresay, and they toddle after her like ducklings. Still, one cannot help wondering how much affection the woman can truly have for them. She is paid to look after them, which is not the same thing.”

  “One must hope the girls will not have to grow up without a mother’s love,” said Jane. “Perhaps Mr. Sanditon will marry again.”

  “Yes, he is still young, certainly eligible, and he can be quite pleasing,” reasoned Elizabeth aloud. “I doubt he would have any difficulty winning a lady’s favor if he were so inclined.”

  Although the conversation moved on, Elizabeth held this thought in mind when the gentlemen rejoined them. Miss Bingley, newly disillusioned with both her former interests, made no move to address either of them again, and before long Mr. Sanditon and Georgiana resumed the discussion they began over dinner. Since this was precisely her sister-in-law’s strategy for enduring the trial of Fitzwilliam’s presence, Elizabeth attached no special significance to it. After all, she knew the true object of Georgiana’s affection.

  Chapter 12

  New Beginnings

  By March, the dreariness of winter began to give way to the first manifestations of spring. Tree branches flaunted swollen leaf and flower buds from tip to trunk, poised to burst forth with the least encouragement. First in a trickle and then in a mighty rush, they broke open as the days grew warmer and more hospitable. No better excuse than an intermission in the rain was now required to draw the inhabitants of Pemberley out of doors for a bracing walk or an invigorating ride, the better by which to enjoy the sweet-smelling air and signs of rejuvenation abounding throughout the park.

  The evidence of new life was not confined to the world outdoors, however. Elizabeth began to perceive unmistakable symptoms of it within as well. It had been some time since she had last suffered her monthly indisposition, and in recent weeks she was ill many a morning. Perhaps the queasiness she experienced was not in itself so lovely as the cherry blossoms flowering in the orchard, but the fruit it promised was more precious than any tree could bear. Elizabeth endeavored to embrace this lofty thought as she struggled concurrently to keep down her breakfast one day.

  No sign of trouble had yet threatened when she and Mr. Darcy left the house to take a turn together that particular morning. Even when she noticed the first waves of nausea – the portent of unpleasant things to come – she said nothing of it, still hoping she might win the battle with her intractable stomach. By the time Elizabeth was forced to acknowledge defeat, they were
far from the house. She had no choice then but to abandon her husband and beat a hasty retreat to the nearest patch of brush where all was ultimately lost.

  For days, Elizabeth had been contemplating how best to tell her husband of her suspicion, which was by now a conviction, that she was with child. She had searched for precisely the right words and pictured the perfect setting to impart the news that would bring him so much joy. As she huddled miserably in the bushes, Elizabeth realized the time was at hand. Like it or not, she would have to tell Darcy now. Judging by how it was going thus far, this was not going to be the moment of rare spiritual beauty she had imagined.

  Darcy quickly followed his ailing wife into the shrubbery to support her through her affliction. When it had passed, he gallantly offered his handkerchief to clean her face, and led her to a nearby bench to recover.

  Elizabeth cringed with embarrassment. “I am sorry you had to see me like that,” she said. “If I must be ill, I would much rather not impose the unpleasantness on anybody else.”

  “Say no more of that. My place is at your side, in sickness and in health. Now, are you truly unwell, Elizabeth, or do you think something you ate this morning has unsettled you?”

  “I am confident there was nothing wrong with breakfast. The fact that you are unaffected is evidence of that.”

  With growing concern, Darcy suggested, “Then let me send for the doctor.”

  “No, my dear, there is no need for the doctor just yet. I believe I already know what caused the trouble, or perhaps, more correctly, who caused it. For you see, my darling husband, it is entirely your fault that I am in this condition,” she said gently.

  “What do you mean?”

  Elizabeth made no answer. She simply nodded and smiled encouragingly, waiting for the light of understanding to dawn upon his face. It did not take long.

  “Are you serious, Lizzy? Are you really with child?”

  “Yes, of course I am serious. I may tease you about many things, my love, but never something this important.”

  “The Lord be praised!” said Darcy, picking her up and whirling her about in his excitement. “There can be no mistake? You are quite certain?”

  Elizabeth laughed with delight at his reaction; she had never seen him so wonderfully animated. “Yes, quite certain. I have only been waiting to find the best way of telling you. This morning, you see, I hit upon the very thing. Our romantic interlude there in the shrubbery just now was the perfect prelude to my big announcement. Do not you agree?”

  “My darling, the report is so excellent that it matters not how you deliver it! You must be feeling better, though, since you can joke about it.”

  “You know how I dearly love to laugh, even if it must be at my own expense. But, yes, I am feeling much better now that I have unburdened myself of this monumental secret … and of my breakfast.”

  “Joke if you will, but I must speak in earnest. My dearest Elizabeth, other than when you consented to be my wife, this is the best news you have ever given me. I am so grateful. Our prayers have been answered, and we will have a son or a daughter before the year is out!”

  That night in bed, Elizabeth nestled under her husband’s arm, her cheek resting on his shoulder and their limbs intertwined. Darcy held her close, as if guarding his precious wife and the treasure that resided within her. As pleasant as it was, Elizabeth had something else in mind. By her caresses, she delicately tried to inspire her husband to the same thought, without success. Since she did not ordinarily have any difficulty conveying her amorous intentions, or eliciting from him a willing response, she concluded that he must be profoundly preoccupied.

  “So, now that our concerted efforts towards procreation have been rewarded, I suppose you imagine that our work is done and any further exertions would be pointless,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Forgive me, but you do seem disinterested, my love, or at the very least, distracted. Did you not notice my rather suggestive show of affection?”

  “Perhaps I am distracted, but I am never disinterested, I promise you. That being said, however, must we not practice some restraint now, for the sake of the child?”

  “There will come a time for a prudent abstinence. But I have it on good authority that none is needed – nor indeed wanted – at this point. Do not make a celibate of your wife just yet, Mr. Darcy.” With this assurance and some more overt encouragement, Mr. Darcy’s scruples were quite satisfactorily overcome.

  ~*~

  Darcy and Elizabeth kept their important news private for a few weeks, relishing the felicity of having the secret all to themselves. Then Georgiana was the first to be told. She was elated and totally astonished, having had no suspicions about it in advance. Old Mrs. Reynolds and Elizabeth’s personal maid, had guessed the situation already, but neither had presumed to speak of it before their mistress chose to.

  Elizabeth posted letters to share their glad tidings with her family at Longbourn, Heatheridge, London, and to Lydia in Newcastle. As she did so, she began to consider if there were any persons on Mr. Darcy’s side that should receive similar communications. He, unfortunately, had little family. His parents were gone and there were no siblings except Georgiana. His only other relations were the Fitzwilliams and Lady Catherine de Bourgh and her daughter.

  Darcy was on good terms with the Fitzwilliams, and, although he was not really close to anyone other than the colonel, Elizabeth judged that a correspondence of some kind would be appropriate there. Lady Catherine was another matter entirely. All contact with her had been severed many months before as a result of her violent indignation over Mr. Darcy’s marriage plans. She had given vent to her acrimony in a letter with words so abusive that Darcy had vowed never to speak to his aunt again. Elizabeth would, therefore, never presume to reopen the lines of communication on her own, though her conscience prompted that it was the right thing to do. The idea continued to needle her until she at last resolved to speak to her husband about it.

  She found him at his desk in the library, bent over a ledger book in concentration. Without a word, she came up behind him and began methodically coursing her fingers through his hair, something she knew he found pleasurable and relaxing. He soon pushed the book away and abandoned himself to her ministrations.

  “Superb,” he murmured after several minutes, “but I shall never accomplish a thing with you here to distract me.”

  Elizabeth came round and unceremoniously seated herself upon his knee. “Is it not my job as your wife to bring you diversion from time to time, so that you do not wear yourself out with work?”

  He studied her face dubiously. “Is that why you are here? To save me from overwork?”

  “Of course.”

  “Come now, Lizzy. There is no need to dissemble. What is troubling you?”

  “Well, since you ask, there is something. Do you mind?”

  “I am happy to hear whatever it is. I only hope it is in my power to give you some relief.”

  “It may be within your power, but I doubt very much you will be happy about it. You see, as I have been relating our good news to our friends, it has put me in mind of Lady Catherine. Pray, do not be angry, Darcy, but I wondered if you might consider reconciling with your aunt.”

  “I’ll not be angry, but I am surprised at you! I can hardly bear to refuse you anything, my love, yet how can I grant such a request? Have you forgotten that insulting letter of hers, much of the foul language in it aimed at punishing you? What could even tempt you to invite that spiteful woman back into our lives? I thought we were well rid of her.”

  “I knew you would feel this way. I did for a long time myself. Still, family is precious, and you have so little of it to spare, my darling. Is it not worth the effort to excuse her dreadful behavior in order to preserve those few kindred connections?”

  “We are building a family of our own now. Is that not enough?”

  “I raise the issue precisely because of that fact. I would not wish our children to be encu
mbered with the burden of domestic strife, or to be deprived of a portion of their heritage either. Also, consider, how shall we maintain our close ties with Fitzwilliam after he marries Anne if we are forever barred from Rosings Park?”

  “I had not thought of that,” he admitted, somewhat grudgingly.

  “I know what it must cost you to forgive her, and she may well refuse our overtures in any case, but I should rest easier knowing that we made an honest effort to heal the breach. Will you not at least think on it, Darcy? For me?”

  He struggled for the right response. “I will consider it – for your sake, Lizzy, not for hers. That is as much as I can promise at present. Yet I must say that I find the notion of crawling back to my aunt, after all that has passed between us, singularly revolting. I have always held the conviction that any apologies must rightly start on her side, although I can hardly imagine her ladyship humbling herself enough to admit she was wrong.”

  ~*~

  With the advent of spring, Georgiana’s outlook began to improve. She decided to consider the possibility that she could be happy with a different sort of life than the one she had imagined for herself with Colonel Fitzwilliam. She poured herself into her music with renewed vigor, spending hours every day at the pianoforte and the harp. Reading, calls of charity, visits with local friends, and correspondence with those farther afield also helped to keep her mind and time occupied.

  Intercourse between Reddclift and Pemberley increased as the weather improved; a warm friendship between the two houses flourished. Of the ladies, only Georgiana had a timid tendency, which quickly melted with the gentle attentions of the others. Likewise, the reserves of Mr. Darcy and Mr. Sanditon steadily diminished as their familiarity grew.