by Jennifer Joy
His sigh was so profound, it sounded like a cry. Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed her fingers and pressed her palm against his cheek. Short whiskers chaffed her skin.
It was a small victory, and she had not won without injury, but Elizabeth knew she had gained a foothold in William’s confidence. The big question was: What would she do with his trust if she could not forgive him? Did she even want to fight for his love now that she knew his whole heart was not his to give?
Chapter 22
Darcy’s admiration for his wife increased a hundredfold. Already, she put Anne’s needs before her own, foregoing her green gown so that they might make haste to Pemberley.
Madame Givenchy made her displeasure known, threatening to travel to Pemberley with Elizabeth’s wardrobe herself to oversee the final fittings. Darcy offered to send his carriage for her if that was what she was determined to do, but he would not stay another day in London now that his wife insisted they leave.
While Madame Givenchy deemed it unforgivable for him to allow his bride to travel in the gowns she had brought from Hertfordshire, Elizabeth made hasty business of finding a lady’s maid to suit her — a girl already in his employ and with whom she had developed a degree of friendship. The very maid who had proved to be Elizabeth’s greatest source of information. At least, Evelyn was loyal. She would not speak against Darcy or his family. More importantly, she would not be a danger to Anne.
He was on his way home to Anne. Three days with decent weather and frequent horse changes, and he would hold her until he could not feel his arms.
And thus, the day following their conversation in the drawing room, he and Elizabeth began the journey north to Pemberley with no more luggage than they had carried with them to London (excepting, of course, a small box of books from Hatchards.)
Elizabeth was quiet for most of the trip. She often directed her gaze out of the window. At first, Darcy supposed she was simply taking in the scenery. She had mentioned how she wished to know more of England. He knew how much she enjoyed being out of doors. But one could only look at dirty roads, bare tree branches, and fallow fields for so long.
Occasionally, she spared a weak smile for him. But only her maid could provoke Elizabeth to speak more than a sentence at a time.
Darcy supposed she merely needed more time to adjust to his revelation; to the knowledge she would be a mother. He, too, had much to ponder and plan.
Three uneventful days of arduous travel later, the carriage turned off the main road to the widened path that would lead them to Pemberley. To Anne. Darcy leaned against the side of the carriage, pressing his fingers against the glass, willing the coachman to drive faster.
“Is this Pemberley?” Elizabeth asked.
He nodded.
She slid closer to the window, and Darcy sat back to allow her a better view.
Her lips parted, and she said in awe, “It is beautiful. I can hardly believe I am to live here.” She looked at him, and Darcy watched her smile fade when their eyes met. It was hardly the reaction he had hoped for. Was this the same woman who had proclaimed she would never back down from a verbal altercation? The same woman who demanded answers? Darcy had groaned at her relentless curiosity many times, but now, he found that he missed her spirit. The Elizabeth who sat across from him was much more cautious and guarded. More like himself.
He ought to have been thrilled.
Mrs. Reynolds pinched her lips in displeasure when she met them at the carriage. He had not heeded her advice to stay on in London.
The housekeeper, however, was all smiles and welcomes to Elizabeth, herding her away from Darcy’s side to introduce her to the servants she had lined up to receive them.
Elizabeth charmed them all when she repeated their names, making an effort to learn who they were when most ladies did not concern themselves with the identities of their servants so long as the work was done. His mother would have approved of his choice. She would have liked Elizabeth. He liked Elizabeth. He liked her very much.
Seeing how well she fitted in at Pemberley infused Darcy with hope. All would be well. They were home. He could protect Anne. And he admired his wife. Love would come. It had to.
Mrs. Reynolds had a spread ready for them in the parlor. The fire had been lit in anticipation of their arrival, and the warm yellow walls felt like rays of sunshine. It was a cheerful room, and Darcy thanked Mrs. Reynolds for her thoughtfulness. He could use some cheer, and he was certain Elizabeth could too. He ached to see Anne, but he did not quite know how to proceed. He could not leave Elizabeth alone.
Before Elizabeth could pour the tea, she stepped closely to Darcy. Looking about carefully, she rose to her tiptoes and whispered in his ear, “I wish to see the baby, if you please.”
This was the moment he had been anticipating … and dreading.
He hesitated.
Elizabeth’s silence during their journey had allowed space for worry. What if she resented Anne? What if she did not understand his need to protect her — to honor the promise he had made to Georgiana?
He would not get the answers he craved any sooner by tarrying. Darcy held out his arm. Without a word, he led her up the stairs and down the hall to the room beside his bedchamber.
It was quiet. Was Anne sleeping? He would suffer Mrs. Bamber’s censure and wake her. He had been away too long — long enough to fear Anne might not remember him.
Mrs. Bamber was lifting Anne up from the cradle when Darcy opened the door and stepped aside to allow Elizabeth to pass. The curtains were open, and Anne was alert and cooing.
Darcy’s heart leapt at the sight of her, and as nervous as he was to show her to Elizabeth, he could not prevent the smile from spreading over his face. How he had missed his little girl.
Elizabeth did not wait until he had introduced the nurse to cross the floor. Darcy hastily made introductions.
“Mrs. Bamber? That was my aunt’s unmarried surname,” Elizabeth said, fingering the pink blanket. “I thank you for caring for the child while William was away. May I hold her please?”
Darcy widened his stance by the door and crossed his empty arms over his chest, reminding himself that this was exactly how he had dreamed Elizabeth would react. He would just have to wait his turn.
Cheeks pink with pleasure, Mrs. Bamber lowered Anne so that Elizabeth could see her better, holding the baby out for her to take. Anne’s big eyes were bluer than Darcy remembered them being. A tiny tuft of golden hair that had not been there when he had left for Hertfordshire curled over her forehead.
He had been gone too long. Had Anne forgotten him?
Elizabeth gasped. Eagerly cradling Anne against the crook of her neck, Elizabeth exclaimed, “She is your sister’s!”
Darcy was tired of not knowing what to say, but he was truly and completely flummoxed. To whom else was the baby supposed to belong? “Yes. Anne is the reason I had to marry. I have to protect her.”
Clutching Anne closer, Elizabeth swayed and twirled, clearly overjoyed. “You are the beloved niece, not the secret daughter! Oh, but you are darling. You are the image of your mama’s likeness. She was a beauty, as was her mother before her. And you are too! Oh, I am so happy, I could burst!”
Darcy’s ears rang. Secret daughter? Had he heard her correctly?
Mrs. Bamber clapped and laughed. “You chose well, Mr. Darcy. Madeline has a special place in her heart for Miss … er, Mrs. Elizabeth.”
Darcy could not have answered had he tried, nor could he comprehend his wife’s glee when she had been silent for the past three days.
Elizabeth spun to face the nurse. “You are the one who recommended me to William? Based on my aunt’s opinion?”
“I did. Mrs. Reynolds and I would do anything to see Mr. Darcy happy and Baby Anne secure.” Mrs. Bamber touched Anne’s blanket. “I have been this wee one’s nurse since the day she was born. Not just any lady would do, you see? And Madeline is everything sensible. She would never speak so well of you unless you were deservin
g of her praise.”
The women chattered happily, leaving Darcy to stew by the door, his annoyance only tempered by the tenderness with which Elizabeth held Anne. It was as if Elizabeth had always been at Pemberley. As if she had always belonged. As if Darcy was not in the room at all.
Anne rubbed her face into Elizabeth’s neck and chirped contentedly. Had she even seen him? Surely, she would have reached for him if she had. He had not been gone so long, he was now a stranger, had he?
Stepping closer, all Darcy’s concerns were appeased when Anne pounded her little fist against Elizabeth’s arm and cooed directly at him. Now, that was more like it. The other females could forget him, but not his Little Anne.
With a kiss on Anne’s cheek, Elizabeth handed the baby over to him. “Your uncle William,” she said.
Of course, he was her uncle. What else was he supposed to be … oh…. Of course. Darcy froze as full realization dawned. “Who did you think Anne was?”
Elizabeth blushed, and her voice was quiet. Tenderly covering over Anne’s ears, she whispered, “I thought — and with just reason, might I add — that she was your illegitimate child.”
Secret child. Yes, he had heard her correctly.
“How could you think such a thing?” Darcy said a bit forcefully.
Patting Anne on the back, Elizabeth shushed him. “You are startling the baby, Fitzwilliam.”
Oh, so he was in trouble now? Because she errantly thought he had fathered an illegitimate child?
Elizabeth reached for Anne, but Darcy jutted his chin toward Mrs. Bamber. If he had to release the sweet child to anyone, it would be to the more reasonable woman in the room.
His arms freed, Darcy crossed them over his chest.
But his wife was every bit as annoyed at him as he was at her. He saw it plainly in her face with her flared nostrils and bunched eyebrows. Clutching her wadded fists at her hips, she said, “What else was I supposed to think, Fitzwilliam, when you would not tell me your secret? I spent the entire journey from London fretting that my father had forced me to marry a man whom I could never truly love and respect when you are everything honorable and good and wonderful.”
He could not win with this woman. “That makes you angry?”
“Why should it not when we have wasted precious time? All the worry and concern—”
Mrs. Bamber tried to excuse herself, but Elizabeth stopped her. “Do not leave. Not when I am guessing you are the one responsible for putting ideas into Fitzwilliam’s head.”
As if he had not made the choice himself! Darcy’s anger renewed at Elizabeth’s accusation and her repeated use of “Fitzwilliam.”
Redirecting her ire to him, she continued, “Yes, that makes me angry. You made me distrust you with all of your secrets when you could have simply told me the truth.”
Darcy ground his teeth. He had never lost his temper at the fairer sex, and he would not allow his wife to provoke him to shout now. I did not yet trust you, he grumbled in his own mind as he took a deep breath.
“We have wasted valuable time — time we should have used working together to protect this sweet child,” Elizabeth said, her voice softening as she gazed again at Anne.
Another deep breath. Elizabeth’s tenderness toward Anne — a baby she had only just met and to whom she had no connection outside of her unwanted union to him — was a wet blanket over Darcy’s ire. Calmly, he said, “I did not know how to tell you. She means the world to me, and I did not know how you would receive her. I would do anything to keep her safe.”
“How could I be anything but supportive when your every action since I met you at the assembly has been moved by your intense love for the babe? She was the reason for your haste; why you wished to depart for Pemberley so soon. Had you told me, I would have understood. You only needed to trust me to help you.” She pushed his chest with her finger. “All that talk about being unaffected by emotion…” She grinned, adding, “You cannot know how relieved I am to see proof contrary to your claims.”
She stepped closer to him, and Darcy knew he ought to retreat. But his stubborn feet remained firmly rooted in place.
His pulse galloped as she drew closer still, until her toes touched his and he could feel the warmth of her nearness and smell the lavender in her hair and wonder what on earth she was talking about.
He shook his head. Now that she knew about Anne, she had to know all of the truth. Darcy hated to alter the coy glint in her eyes and the impish grin gracing her plump lips, but neither did he wish for Elizabeth to believe a lie.
“My motive was not so altruistic as you think. I married you to keep a promise. It is my duty, my responsibility, and my honor to protect my sister’s child. I would rather die than fail her.”
Elizabeth looked over her shoulder at Mrs. Bamber. “Sounds like love to me, do you not agree, Mrs. Bamber?”
Mrs. Bamber pinched her lips together and fussed with Anne’s blanket. She said nothing, but the smile she attempted to conceal was reply enough. At least, Elizabeth seemed to think so.
“See? Mrs. Bamber agrees with me, and I think I know how much you trust in her opinion if our union is any indication…”
Darcy did not like the ease with which Elizabeth stole his former ally away from him. Nor did he appreciate how fickle his reasoning sounded coming from her mouth. He had yet to tell her of his need for an heir. She would not think so kindly of him once he told her. And he would tell her. As soon as there was a pause in the conversation.
Mrs. Bamber smiled at Elizabeth. “You are exactly as Madeline described you. She will be happy you are here.”
“She will?” Elizabeth turned away from Darcy to face the nurse.
“Of course. I did not say anything to her before, not thinking you would return to Pemberley so soon after marrying, but she will be delighted Mr. Darcy chose you. Mind you, Madeline knows nothing of the babe, nor can she. You cannot breathe a word to her no matter how tempting it might be.”
Darcy waited for one of the ladies to take a breath so that he might get a word in, but their ability to speak as quickly as they did without air was amazing.
Elizabeth said, “We left London before I could say anything at all to her. More is the pity. I could use her advice right now.”
“Well, then, have Mr. Darcy send a messenger to the inn to fetch her.”
Darcy blinked. The infamous Aunt Gardiner was here? In Derbyshire?
Chapter 23
Who was Sir Knightly compared to her husband?
Just remembering the look on William’s face as he held Anne was enough to make Elizabeth’s heart gush. She had understood his struggle then — when his immense love for the infant was plain to see. The tenderness with which he caressed his cherished niece….
Elizabeth fanned her face. If he could love her like that, she would be very happy indeed.
They had been married one week. They had known each other a fortnight. Until then, she had considered her marriage a forced one. Not anymore. William had called it a marriage of convenience, but she could not agree with that either.
She wondered how they would remember their story ten years from now.
Lady Gwendolyn could keep her Sir Knightly. Elizabeth had William.
To her immense pleasure, he sent for her aunt and uncle immediately.
After they learned of their niece’s quick entry into matrimony, and had recovered from their shock, they were thrilled to be shown the house before dinner. William did not relegate the task to Mrs. Reynolds. He showed them himself, and Elizabeth watched him speak of his family’s estate with as much love and reverence as he did of the people who had once graced Pemberley’s halls. The void they had left in their absence was great, but it was nothing Elizabeth would not attempt to fill.
Aunt Gardiner shared what stories she could of William’s family and their servants (whom she knew more intimately.)
When they neared the hall of portraits, Aunt Gardiner paused in front of Lady Anne’s likeness, saying “
A true lady, and a memorable beauty.” Turning to William, she added, “I was so sorry when she died. It must have been difficult for everyone, but I will never forget how my father described Mr. Darcy at her funeral.”
William looked up at his mother’s portrait. “She was dearly loved by all. I believe most of the villagers surrounding Pemberley came. It was kind of Mr. Bamber to come.”
Aunt Gardiner inclined her neck, looking at William. “Especially was she loved by the husband and son she left behind with her newborn daughter. My father was there when Mr. Darcy broke down and wept. He saw how you stayed at his side, holding him up when grief dropped him to his knees. You were only a lad of twelve years, but you acted beyond your age. Not once did he recall seeing you cry. You were too busy seeing after others.”
William was silent. He spun the opal in his cravat between his fingers, the only sign he gave of his struggle to maintain his composure.
Elizabeth slipped her hand into his, delighting in the way he spread his fingers to make room for hers.
Uncle noticed. He smiled at Elizabeth, then, with a meaningful look at Aunt, he cleared his throat and said, “Yes, well, it would appear that a crooked path has been made straight and all will turn out well in the end. That is not always the case, and I am overjoyed to see evidence of our Lizzy’s happiness with a gentleman who thus far appears deserving of her.” He leveled his gaze at William.
“I do not think I could ever truly deserve her, but I will always try,” William replied, gently squeezing her hand.
Elizabeth was more determined than ever to prove her worth. She would never allow him to consider casting her off.
The butler came to announce dinner. Flickering candles and sparkling crystal chandeliers lent a lightness to the grand room, and soon, the conversation turned to livelier topics.
Uncle Gardiner regaled them with stories of their travels, and Aunt Gardiner complemented his accounts with details he would have overlooked but which added to the telling. They finished each other’s sentences, and several times their eyes met as they silently shared a memory which Aunt did not repeat aloud. Elizabeth longed for a union like theirs.