Deception

by Ola Wegner

“Easy, sweetie.” Gently, he tried to remove her from him. “I am all dirty and sweaty.”

  “I do not care.” She caught his lips in a kiss. “I missed you,” she whispered into his lips.

  “I missed you too.” He picked her up and twirled her around, not minding any more that she would get dirty. “I am so glad you are here.” He put her down and gazed into her fine eyes. “You cannot imagine how much it means to me.”

  Epilogue

  Nine years later

  Darcy looked dully out of the window of the rolling carriage. They were returning to Pemberley from their three week long stay in Hertfordshire. He was tired. Each visit to Longbourn was an ordeal for him, although not so much because of the company he found there – over the years he somehow had got accustomed to his wife’s family. Simply, he did not ever like leaving Pemberley for a few weeks, no matter where, nor the reason.

  The warm, soft form of his wife stirred slightly beside him, and he felt the gentle push under his palm, which rested on Elizabeth’s swollen belly.

  He gathered her closer to him, guessing from the slight frown of her finely drawn eyebrows that she was uncomfortable with the baby rolling inside her now.

  Travelling across the country with a wife seven months along in her confinement was the last thing he wished for, but when the news had come from Longbourn over a month before, saying that Mr. Bennet had developed a serious bronchitis with the threat of pneumonia, Elizabeth demanded to go to see him, despite her condition. The Bingleys could not go because Jane was in confinement, giving birth to their fourth child.

  Darcy had tried to persuade Elizabeth to change her mind about the trip, but she had been adamant. She pointed out that she felt well and was very fit, which was the truth. Despite her petite frame, she had carried their first child well, and the birth itself of the big infant lasted only two hours. This, her second pregnancy, seemed to resemble the previous one, six years ago, very much. Taking everything into consideration, Darcy had come to the conclusion that the journey to the south would be less strenuous for her than if she had been forced to worry herself about her father at Pemberley.

  His eyes moved from Elizabeth’s extended belly to his son, Henry, sleeping peacefully on the opposite seat. His face clouded. Not for the first time, he wondered whether it was his fault that in nearly ten years of marriage she had conceived only twice. All the other Bennet sisters had given birth in the first year of their marriages, three of them, as their mother counted, exactly nine months after taking their wedding vows; but it had taken them almost three years to conceive his pride and joy, their son.

  Darcy looked with love and devotion at his child. The boy had his build and tall, lean figure. Elizabeth swore that he walked, stood the same as him and gestured exactly like him. He seemed to have his disposition as well and was usually very thoughtful when he eventually spoke. There was a time when Elizabeth had been worried that he had not spoken enough for his age.

  As for the boy’s face, he was the picture of his mother, with her beautiful eyes and engaging smile.

  Darcy shared his wife’s bed every night for the sheer comfort of having her by his side and made love to her much more often than most husbands did after nearly a decade of marriage. Still, for many years there was no sign at all that Elizabeth could have been with a baby again. Her monthly indisposition had come uninterrupted for over five years till last Christmas, when she had announced that he would be a father one more time.

  Understandably, he was overjoyed with the news, but again started to consider whether he was the one responsible for the fact that his wife had been with child only twice in the course of nine years.

  Kitty, who physically most reminded him most of Elizabeth, having the same small, slim body type, gave birth regularly every year since her marriage a few years ago.

  His parents had had only two children, and his father had only one sibling too. He, himself, had been born a few years after his parents’ marriage, and it had taken them over ten years to conceive Georgiana. Still, he never remembered his mother to be ill before Georgiana’s birth, so it was probably not a case that she had suffered from a miscarriage. He remembered that despite the fact she had been nearly forty when carrying his sister, all had gone well when the time had come, and she had recovered quickly after the birth. It had been a lump in her breast which had killed her a few years later, when Georgiana had still been a toddler.

  Darcy kissed the top of Elizabeth’s head. It was a time to face the truth and admit to himself that it had to be his fault that they had begotten only two children. He had never shared this fear with Elizabeth. He felt inadequate in a way that he could not give his beloved wife more children.

  “Papa.” His son’s sleepy voice brought his attention.

  “Shush.” He brought a finger to his mouth. “Your mother is sleeping.”

  The boy moved from his seat and sat on his father’s other side.

  Darcy brought the boy tightly to him and kissed his curly head.

  “How soon the baby will come?” the child asked in whisper, staring over him at his mother.

  Henry, of course, knew that he would have a brother or sister soon. They had not explained this to him, but he seemed to understand that the baby was in his mother’s swollen belly. The boy had encountered them a few times when his father spoke to Elizabeth’s midsection, feeling the baby’s kicks. Darcy did not intend to feed his son with the tales that the new baby would come from the cabbage patch or be brought by a stork. The boy was smart and observant for his age and spent much time around sheep and horses, often accompanying him on the trips around the estate. He knew exactly from whence the young calf came. He had even once or twice witnessed a birth of a horse.

  “Before the end of the summer,” Darcy answered his question.

  Henry looked up at him. “I would wish for a brother.”

  “Why not a sister?”

  “There are my cousins, Uncle and Aunt Bingley’s daughters,” Henry explained.

  “They have a little boy now too.”

  Henry sighed. “Still, there are too many girls.”

  Darcy smiled at him. “Well, we can only wait and see whether the baby will be a boy or a girl.”

  The child looked at his mother. “Mama’s tired.”

  “Yes. She was worried about Grandfather Bennet because he was ill.”

  Henry smiled. “I like Grandpa Bennet. He tells me stories and talks to me.”

  Darcy smiled too. His father-in-law, for the lack of a better word, adored his eldest grandson. He visited Pemberley at least once a year for prolonged stays, spending entire days with Henry, walking with him, reading him books and telling him about the world around. Darcy always thought that the older man had never fully forgiven him taking his favourite daughter away from him, no matter how irrational it was. Still, he could not wish for better guidance and company for his son than Elizabeth’s father.

  Elizabeth stirred beside him and opened her eyes.

  “Have I slept long?” she asked sleepily.

  “About an hour,” Darcy answered.

  Henry moved from his father’s side to sit beside his mother. With all the talk about the new baby in the family, the boy started to be very possessive about Elizabeth’s attention. Darcy remembered that he, himself, had been jealous about Georgiana when she had been born, at least at the beginning.

  “Have you slept too, darling?” Elizabeth gathered the boy to herself.

  “Yes, Mama,” the boy murmured and snuggled closer to his mother, his little face turned to her side. Henry closed his eyes and seemed to inhale Elizabeth’s scent.

  They drove for another half hour before they stopped for the change of horses and taking some refreshment.

  Darcy walked his family into the best inn in the village, where they often stopped on their way from the south. The owner’s wife recognized them instantly and invited Elizabeth and Henry into a more quiet, private room away from common travellers. Darcy could return to
the carriage to talk with the driver.

  “May I have some cake, Mama?” Henry asked.

  Elizabeth sat the boy on the chair, removed his hat and unbuttoned his coat to make him more comfortable.

  “Are you not too hot, darling?”

  Henry shook his head.

  Elizabeth looked at him with concern. He looked pale. She touched his forehead, but it was cool. “Yes, you may have a cake, but first you need to eat something hot, perhaps some soup,” she answered his question as she, herself, sat heavily on the chair.

  “Yes, Mama,” the boy conceded and leaned against the chair.

  Darcy returned, and they were halfway through their meal when the door opened and the owner’s wife let another guest inside. Elizabeth looked curiously at the newcomers. It was a strikingly beautiful, very elegant woman, close to her own age, or perhaps a year or two older. She was in the company of two small children, and a young lady who looked to be no more than fifteen years old.

  The woman was heavy with child too. Elizabeth guessed that she was ever farther in her confinement than she. Looking tired, she moved slowly to the table at the other end of the small room. As she sat heavily on the chair, her eyes met Elizabeth’s. She smiled and nodded in recognition, her hand on her large belly.

  Elizabeth smiled back, and a quiet understanding passed between two women.

  Elizabeth could not stop herself from observing the newcomers from the corner of her eye. She felt somehow drawn to those people, and she did not know why. The younger children, the boy slightly older and the girl a few years younger than Henry, were very well behaved and quiet when they ate their meal. Soon Elizabeth realized that the young girl was not the woman’s daughter, but her sister. The woman’s husband was expected to join them any minute.

  “Can we go, darling?” William asked in lowered voice as he leaned over to her.

  She smiled at his kind face. “Yes, we can. Please, take Henry and go to the carriage. I need a few minutes more to refresh myself.”

  When her husband and son left, she directed herself to the small side room where, as she remembered from their previous trips, she could wash her face and hands.

  On returning, she noticed that the father of the family came. The girl sat on his lap, and the boy clung to his side.

  Elizabeth was about to pass by them to the door, when the man raised his head and their eyes met.

  A soft gasp escaped from her suddenly dry throat. She stood rooted in place and could not move; she just stared into his face with wide eyes. Her heart banged in her chest.

  John Brooke stood up with his daughter cradled in his arms. He looked at Elizabeth for a long moment before he took a step forward and bowed his head in front of her.

  She did not return the greeting. She did not know how, but she managed to tear her gaze from him and move her legs. She did not realize that she ran, till she was stopped by William outside the inn.

  “Elizabeth, what is the matter?” he cried, his voice frightened. “Lizzy, look at me!” He shook her gently.

  Elizabeth managed to focus her eyes on him and, later, on Henry, whose little hand was tucked into her skirts, his worried face turned up to her.

  “I saw him…,” she breathed.

  Darcy frowned. “Who?”

  “That family, that woman and children we saw… it is his family… his wife.”

  “Elizabeth, but who, whose wife?”

  “John Brooke.”

  Darcy’s expression changed in a split second. “Did he talk to you?” he demanded firmly. “Did he try to do something to you?”

  She shook her head. “No, nothing like that. He recognized me, but did not try to speak… he stood up and greeted me… I do not know… I ran away.”

  Darcy crushed her to him and kissed her forehead, not paying attention to the fact that they stood in the middle of the courtyard in front of the busy inn.

  “Let us go, Elizabeth.” He pulled her towards their awaiting carriage. “There is nothing here for us.”

  The End

  Bonus Story

  No Other Way by Ola Wegner

  Chapter One

  “Lizzy, I will gladly stay here to keep you company, even if that means risking Lady Catherine’s censure.”

  “Charlotte, that is not necessary. I am truly fine. It is just a headache, which shall pass. I believe I have just walked too far today. That is all.”

  Mrs. Collins looked at her friend sceptically. “Lizzy, as long as I have known you, you have never suffered from a headache after a long walk. And you are pale.”

  “Charlotte, perhaps it is due to the fact that my time of the month is coming,” Elizabeth said, lowering her voice slightly not to be overheard by anyone. “You know I am always out of sorts then.”

  “I shall try to return as soon as possible,” Mrs. Collins assured her with an apologetic look.

  Mr. Collins burst into the room.“My dear we will be late! Make haste! Make haste!” he cried, waving his arms wildly. “I am sure cousin Elizabeth will be fine staying alone for one afternoon.”

  “Indeed, I shall.” Elizabeth smiled reassuringly. “It is truly really late. You should go. Please be so kind to explain my absence and give my excuses to Lady Catherine.”

  “My dear poor cousin, I am sure Lady Catherine will understand your condition perfectly.” Mr. Collins’ sweaty reddish countenance lightened as always when speaking of his patroness. “Suffering from headaches and dizzy spells is, after all, a common predicament among elegant ladies. I am also sure her ladyship will be so kind to offer you some advice how to bring you relief in your state, or perhaps even…”

  “My dear, it is really late,” Mrs. Collins interrupted her husband’s monologue.

  “Oh, why have you not said anything?” the parson exclaimed, directing himself abruptly towards the door. “You know how much Lady Catherine stresses the importance of punctuality, especially among the men of church!”

  Elizabeth sighed in relief when she was at last left alone in the parsonage’s small parlour.

  She could not possibly attend tea at Rosings today and calmly face Mr. Darcy. Certainly not after what she had heard about his interference with Mr. Bingley and Jane from Colonel Fitzwilliam. She was afraid that this time she would not be able to conceal her hostility towards Darcy. She doubted her ability to control her temper now, not when she knew that this was the man responsible for her sister’s broken heart. She could easily say something she might later regret.

  Although little did Elizabeth care about Mr. Darcy’s opinion of her person, her uncivil behaviour towards him could put Charlotte in an awkward and unpleasant situation. Elizabeth was Mrs. Collins’ guest after all, and insulting her patroness’ nephew, and likely the future son-in-law as well, could only breach the good relations between the parson’s wife and Lady Catherine.

  Charlotte was so proud of her household and seemed so happy with her present situation in life. The last thing Elizabeth wanted was to cause harm to her friend in any way. It did not matter that she still found it difficult to accept the truth that her intelligent and sensible friend could feel almost happy being married to such a man as Mr. Collins.

  Charlotte did all her best to make Elizabeth’s stay in Kent pleasant and comfortable. It was not Elizabeth’s intention to repay her friend’s kindness and hospitality by offending Lady Catherine’s family. Moreover, there was no reason to show her real feelings towards Mr. Darcy in front of Colonel Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth was not enamoured with the Colonel, but she d and respected him enough not to wish him witnessing an uncontrolled outburst of indignation towards Darcy.

  Elizabeth stared at the dull brownish wallpaper in her friend’s cherished private parlour. Her first intention of spending the afternoon here, having some tea and rereading the letters from Jane lost its appeal. She walked to the window and looked at the lush green countryside, inhaling the fresh country air. Perhaps a walk was a better idea than sitting inside on such a beautiful spring afternoon?


  Just the second day after her arrival, Elizabeth had found a charming spot in the semi wild grove. The place was situated on slightly higher ground, and the breathtaking view of the vast fields and meadows spread from there. She would go sit there and watch the sunset.

  Pleased with her idea, she ran upstairs for her spencer and gloves. She decided against the bonnet, knowing very well that she would promptly remove it. Her hair was a mess, disobedient curls escaping the pins somehow more than usual. But no one was to see her, so she did not bother to smooth them.

  She ran lightly down the stairs and outside the house, heading rapidly in the direction of the grove. It she was not so engrossed in her thoughts, she might have noticed a tall man following her.

  She reached the grove in just a few minutes, breathless, as she was almost running. Leaning against the thick tree, she stared for a long moment at the landscape spread before her. She closed her eyes with a sigh, deeply happy at the thought that she would return home soon, leaving Lady Catherine and Mr. Darcy far behind. Poor Charlotte, not only was she married to the most stupid man in England, who could not possibly appreciate her the way she deserved it, but she was forced to be dependent on such a person as Lady Catherine de Bourgh as well.

  Elizabeth felt relieved that, in just three days, she would see Jane. She would be able to decipher for herself her sister’s true feelings. Jane’s letters from London sounded almost too cheerful. She described what she had seen and done with their Aunt and Uncle Gardiner. She wrote about the tricks played by the little Gardiners and the people she had met during her stay in town.

  But since that memorable letter from January where she confessed that she had been certain that Mr. Bingley did not care about her at all and had avoided meeting her, she had never mentioned a word about him. Neither did she write about her own feelings and emotions. Elizabeth could only hope Jane would manage to forget Mr. Bingley. There was certainly no hope now for him to ever come back to Netherfield.

  Elizabeth was now almost certain that Mr. Darcy was perfectly aware of Jane’s stay in London. Mr. Darcy and Caroline Bingley must have done everything in their power to hide Jane’s presence in town from Mr. Bingley. She really found it hard to comprehend why anyone would want to harm Jane so much. Her sister was the sweetest person; she had never harmed a soul; and now she was left heartbroken due to Mr. Darcy’s cruel interference. Presumably, he could not bear the thought of one of his closest friends being married to a woman with relatives from Cheapside. He did not care that her sister suffered deeply as a result of his selfish actions. Such a thought surely had not even crossed his mind. Hateful, hateful man!