One Autumn with Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Anthology

by Fairbanks,Rose

  Darcy gently squeezed his sister’s hand. She had long ago surmised he was in love with Anne’s friend. Her eyes had become weak due to illness and so Darcy read letters to her. Georgiana said something about his tone of voice changed when Elizabeth was referenced.

  Since Anne informed him of Elizabeth’s pregnancy, Darcy could not have been more fearful than if he was the father. Learning that Mr. Collins had not bothered to arrange a will angered him. Darcy had begun to arrange matters, in conjunction with Mr. Gardiner, in case the Bennet ladies would have to leave Longbourn.

  Instead of his tone becoming gentle as usual when he read of Elizabeth, no one could mistake hearing his anger. Anne reported that Elizabeth had born a girl a week ago. Mrs. Bennet could not keep her anger to herself and while they expected to have some time to make ready for the arrival of the new heir, Elizabeth desired to return to Kent immediately.

  “I always loathed Mrs. Bennet,” Darcy said.

  “Take care,” Bingley remarked. “Mrs. Bennet indeed is harsh and enthusiastic but you do not understand how daughters—Bennet daughters in particular—love their mothers. Think of all that Miss de Bourgh bore for Lady Catherine. It may seem clear to us that Mrs. Bennet is undeserving of Elizabeth’s love and affection, but matters are seldom so simple to the people involved.”

  Darcy thought for a moment before accepting Bingley’s words. “I see the sense in that. Thank you, Bingley. Georgiana, I must go to London to finish matters for Elizabeth’s sake. Would you prefer to stay here or would you like to go to Rosings?”

  Georgiana blushed. “I wish to stay here,” she whispered.

  “Very well. Then I entrust her to you, Bingley.”

  In London, Darcy was happy to meet with Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner.

  “This ought to make Fanny happy,” Mr. Gardiner said as he and Darcy went over matters. “Lizzy has been distraught that she could not do more for her mother.”

  Darcy scowled. He hated that Mrs. Bennet treated Elizabeth and her child poorly, no matter how difficult things must be for her.

  “I have never before directly asked you, Darcy, but always believed you had reasons other than guilt for Wickham for your lively interest in our family,” Mr. Gardiner said.

  “My guilt is more extensive than you are likely to consider,” Darcy answered quietly.

  “What? It is impossible you caused the fever outbreak last summer?”

  “No, but I did separate my friend from your eldest niece. If I had not, many things would have been different. As it is, my actions can never be forgiven or forgotten.”

  “You are too harsh on yourself. We all deserve forgiveness.”

  Darcy shook his head. He had no hope that Elizabeth could forget his contribution to her sufferings. She could never forgive him. Earning her love was impossible, but he was content to know that she was well-provided for.

  Mr. Gardiner allowed the matter to drop and looked over the contract one more time. “You chose a good house. It is not out of the realm of possibility that my brother might have been able to afford this amount. Fanny will be disappointed she does not have a carriage but I agree there will be no need for it and it would likely cause more questions than answers.”

  As Darcy left Gracechurch street that night, he mused to himself how similar Mr. Bennet and Mr. Collins were. Both had left their family rather neglected for their own pursuits. His next visit was to his solicitor’s office where he created a ruse that left an anonymous bequest from a Collins relation to his children. The terms stated that should Elizabeth inquire into the benefactor’s identity the funds would cease. He was uncertain that would be a big enough deterrent for Elizabeth as she was not mercenary, but surely she would not wish to rob her child of two hundred pounds a year.

  When he finished with his London errands, he returned to Margate. Georgiana’s physician suggested spa resorts for her recovery and he had favored the Kentish coast to be closer to Rosings. Now that all matters were settled for Elizabeth, however, he considered it was time to move further away. He had not been to Pemberley in well over a year and could avoid it no longer.

  After a fortnight in Scarborough with his sister and friend, Darcy went on to Pemberley. There he consoled himself with his work and letters from Anne full of reports on Elizabeth and her happiness with her growing baby. At night, when the house was still and quiet, Darcy would allow himself visions of what might have been. Elizabeth sitting next to him with her brown curls loose about her shoulders as children played on the floor before them. Elizabeth would be an affectionate mother, delighting in every achievement of their child. When first he saw her, he had not thought there was much beauty about Elizabeth Bennet. Now, as he attempted to age her and consider her figure after becoming a mother, she seemed the loveliest lady he could imagine. His attraction to Elizabeth was never built on her physical traits alone. In his half-dreams, he was free to tell Elizabeth of his love for her and hold her in his arms. Daylight always came, dispelling the visions and leaving coldness in its wake.

  Chapter Ten

  November 22, 1813

  Rosings, Kent

  Elizabeth awoke to a knock on her chamber door in the early hours on a late November morning. Checking to see that Janie, now seven months old, still slept, she threw on a robe and crept to the door.

  “Please come, Mrs. Collins,” said Anne’s maid. “The physician says it will not be much longer. I’ll sit with the little miss.”

  Elizabeth hastened to her friend’s room. Anne had given her a large apartment in the second guest wing. Of course, it was seldom used. There had been no guests at Rosings since Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam visited two Easters ago.

  Elizabeth knocked on Anne’s door and a maid opened it. “Leave us,” Anne said and Elizabeth hastened to her side.

  “Do not speak, Anne. Allow yourself to rest. If you sleep, you might feel better in the morning.”

  Anne had been ill several times since her recovery from the first fever. Each incident left her weaker than the last. She seemed very susceptible to every trifling illness. This morning, her breathing was very shallow. Anne shoved a stack of letters into Elizabeth’s hand. “Here. Read.”

  Elizabeth opened one and saw that it was correspondence from Darcy again. “Anne you already showed me. I believed you about Wickham. I promise I think better of Mr. Darcy now.”

  “He will come...at last.” Anne struggled to speak. “Read.”

  Her eyes looked at Elizabeth so fervently that at last she consented to sit and read. Again, his words of concern for Anne and Rosings, the way he expressed his love for Pemberley and Georgiana spoke to Elizabeth’s heart. Anne’s stack began with a letter written just before Anne had disclosed the truth about Wickham to Elizabeth. Darcy seemed indifferent about Elizabeth knowing it but agreed with Anne that he did not doubt Elizabeth’s ability to keep the information secret.

  He disclosed his joy at Bingley’s proposal to Jane and his regrets of interference. During his illness that summer there was a long gap in letters, finally resuming upon his shock of hearing about Lady Catherine and Mr. Collins’ deaths. He had determined to come to Rosings right away, and only news of Georgiana falling ill kept him.

  After Anne had recovered, she must have been curious how things resolved with Lydia. How she knew to ask Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth knew not. With astonished eyes Elizabeth read that Darcy was the one who found Lydia and Wickham. He had to bribe Miss Darcy’s former companion for information and then meet with Wickham several times. Darcy had been unable to convince Lydia to return to her family, and it weighed heavily on him. In the end, he agreed to settle all of Wickham’s debts and bought him an ensigncy. Darcy also arranged the license for the wedding and insisted on being there for the ceremony.

  Elizabeth was ashamed to see he had done so much. It was more than her family could ever repay. Indeed, it was likely more than the ten thousand pounds she had presumed it cost Mr. Gardiner.

  In a letter from just after Janie’s birth, D
arcy told Anne to no longer fear for Elizabeth’s security. He had arranged with Mr. Gardiner that the Bennet ladies would have a house to live in and he had set up a fund for Janie.

  “So much kindness! But why Anne, why? He cannot still love me.” She cried and, at last, lifted her tear-filled eyes from her papers to see Anne’s still face. She suffered no more. “Oh, Anne! You were my truest friend in the world!”

  Elizabeth lifted her friend’s cold hand and kissed it. She desired to sink into despair and sob but could not. There was work to do and soon Janie would wake and need her. Elizabeth allowed herself some tears and time alone with her friend before alerting the physician and necessary staff.

  That afternoon as she wrote letters to Anne’s remaining family, Elizabeth realized that Anne had given her a great gift. She had sacrificed for her family and for duty with her marriage to Mr. Collins and it nearly all came to naught. Her heart had long been Darcy’s and now may be her last chance to see him. Colonel Fitzwilliam would inherit the house and while he was great friends with Darcy, Elizabeth would return to her cottage when the Colonel took up residence. There was little reason to think that she would be invited to Rosings often or would see Darcy should he visit. Indeed, he must be thinking of his own legacy and might soon marry and then Elizabeth most definitely did not wish to be forced to see him upon visits. This would be her only time to ask why he had done so much for her family. Her heart longed for it all to be for her, but Darcy was the kindest most generous man in the world and she had long since learned to not trust her vanity.

  In two days’ time, Colonel Fitzwilliam and his new wife arrived at Rosings. Elizabeth scarcely recalled meeting him during his brief visit, but he seemed a charming gentleman. His wife was lovely and kind. Although Anne had never met Mrs. Fitzwilliam, she mentioned that the lady had been an heiress of a modest fortune. It was not enough to buy an estate, however. The Colonel’s parents, Lord and Lady Malton arrived with them and their eldest son, Viscount Bridgewater and his wife. Elizabeth smirked as she wondered how Lady Catherine would feel about her parson’s wife welcoming such austere company at Rosings as though she was the mistress.

  “I cannot tell you how much it has meant to all of us that Anne had your company these last months,” Lady Malton said to Elizabeth after dinner. “We had wanted to take her away from here, but she insisted on remaining. We have been in Bath, for his lordship’s health, you see.”

  Elizabeth nodded. Lord Malton had some lasting rheumatism from the illness. Many went to Bath to recover their health. Others were directed to sea resorts, such as Miss Darcy.

  “Anne was so kind to me, but she never made it feel like a kindness. If you do not mind me saying so, she was a very genuine friend to me when I had given up any hope of finding another one again.”

  Lord Bridgewater nodded his head. “She is just as Darcy describes her.”

  “Yes, I know Anne and Mr. Darcy were faithful correspondents to each other. I am pleased to hear he would tell you all of her best attributes. I thought of Anne rather like a sister and I can be fearfully protective of my sisters.”

  “It is you Darcy described in so many letters, my dear,” Lady Malton corrected. “He is the one who put our minds at ease about leaving Anne her privacy at Rosings. He said you would love her like a sister and he regretted that Georgiana did not know you. He said you were just the sort of sister he would wish for her.”

  Elizabeth blushed from such profuse praise.

  “Where is Darcy?” Lord Bridgewater asked.

  “He comes from Pemberley or Scarborough. I suppose he will not get here until tomorrow or the next day,” the Colonel replied.

  As Elizabeth went to bed that evening, she accepted that if Darcy did not come now, it must be because he had no desire to see her ever again, even at his cousin’s funeral.

  *****

  Later that evening

  Darcy breathed a sigh of relief. At last, they had reached Rosings. It was after midnight and poor Georgiana had fallen asleep. Bingley, who had nearly insisted he come along, sat beside him and gazed at her. The cover of darkness could not hide his admiration from her brother. Darcy wondered when it was that Bingley, who had been so in love with Jane, fell in love with his sister. He wondered, too, when they would say something about it to him, but for now, he only wished for a bed. He doubted he would sleep, however. Elizabeth was surely already asleep, but he would see her on the morrow. He would not have missed Anne’s funeral for anything, but if Elizabeth seemed unwelcoming, he would leave immediately afterwards. He hoped, although he had no reason to think it, that she might have forgiven him.

  Once inside the housekeeper ushered Darcy and Georgiana to their usual rooms. Bingley was given one down the main guest hall. Darcy and Georgiana had selected their rooms as children wishing for privacy from their overbearing aunt. Their cousins, Bridgewater and Fitzwilliam, were too amiable to ask for rooms so out of the way. Darcy wondered why Bingley was not given the third chamber on this hall, but it was too late for such concerns.

  Discarding his coats and boots, Darcy sat in a chair before the fire. As he had for months, he let fantasies of Elizabeth as Mrs. Darcy wash over him.

  An hour or two later, Darcy awoke as normal for him. He heard the faint sound of a baby cry. What he first took as a dream, he soon comprehended was reality. By the sound of it, Elizabeth’s chamber was the one next to his. After several minutes, the baby calmed.

  Darcy dozed for another hour and upon waking, again heard a baby’s wail. Elizabeth must be exhausted. Why did she not call for the nurse? Coming to a decision, he shrugged on his waistcoat and strode from his room. He knocked lightly on the door he now knew to be Elizabeth’s sitting-room.

  There was a pause, but then she opened it. Her eyes grew wide. “Mr. Darcy!” She quickly curtsied.

  He bowed. “M…” Darcy still could not bear to say her name. “Pardon the intrusion. Might I be of service in some way?”

  “Oh! I am sorry if Janie woke you. We are not used to having guests in this wing.”

  “It was no trouble; I always sleep restlessly now.” Darcy doubted his tortured soul would ever allow him to sleep soundly again.

  “May I call the nurse for you?”

  Elizabeth blushed. “I thank you, sir, but there is no nurse.”

  “What can you be thinking?” he cried.

  For a moment, he saw a flash of Elizabeth’s ire, something he remembered fondly. Then she did something that surprised him exceedingly.

  “Mr. Darcy, might you come in here to continue this discussion?”

  “Certainly.”

  She did not move more than a step back as he came into the room, and her scent, still lavender, washed over him. She immediately shut the door. It was quite late, and the rest of the house was certainly asleep. Still, it would not do for anyone to know Darcy was in her rooms.

  “Mr. Darcy, would you care to tell me how you believe you may help me care for my daughter? Or do you desire to tell me I am ridiculous for not employing a nurse?”

  “No, it is only that…I fear you will exhaust yourself. Why do you not employ one?”

  “Anne allowed me to live here out of the goodness of her heart. She would not hear of me becoming her companion and allowed me to stay even after my mother left Longbourn.”

  Darcy still felt the need to repress his instant outrage at Mrs. Bennet’s initial behaviour upon Janie’s birth. That Mrs. Bennet made amends after being settled in a modest sized cottage, presumably provided for by Mr. Bennet, still did not appease him.

  Darcy looked at the infant in her mother’s arms. She was as stunning at seven months old as her mother was as a woman. How could Mrs. Bennet be anything but grateful for this beautiful, darling child? He did not see any recognizable traces of Mr. Collins, but it hardly would have mattered to Darcy. It was love at first sight. He loved Elizabeth, and he loved her child.

  Elizabeth must have perceived the way he was staring at her baby because she cleared
her throat and gave him an odd look, before continuing.

  “Other than the unexpectedly large portion left to Janie, I have no income of my own. Mr. Collins left me nothing. A nurse can do nothing I cannot provide. I have no home to maintain or guests to entertain, nothing to take my attention. Anne was more than happy to allow me all the time in the world to dote on Janie.”

  “But she has a fund that is to be used for…”

  Elizabeth turned her eyes on him, and he caught his mistake. He never meant for her to know. It was supposed to appear as an anonymous bequest from a distant Collins relative.

  “Why, Mr. Darcy? Why have you done so much for us?”

  He closed his eyes. He detected no surprise in Elizabeth’s tone. She knew. How did she know? Darcy had asked Anne to keep a watchful eye over Elizabeth, and the baby and Anne vowed to keep the confidence. The letters from Anne, which detailed Elizabeth’s contentment with life and joy in her daughter, was the only thing which could assuage the pain in his heart over the last two years.

  She must have seen his confusion at her apparent knowledge. “Anne had me read your letters before she passed. I know it all and I can go no longer without expressing my gratitude for the generous compassion that induced you to take so much trouble, and bear so many mortifications. I know you found Wickham and Lydia and…” her eyes filled with tears.

  “Elizabeth, do not make yourself uneasy.”

  His words seemed only to upset her more. She sat on a sofa; sobs racking her small frame. He sat next to her, his heart clenching more than he thought possible to bear. Seeking to give her some comfort, he took Janie from Elizabeth’s arms. She acquiesced, but Darcy could not stop his impulse to touch her in some way. He wrapped one arm around her and lovingly rubbed her shoulder. She buried her face in his chest. Darcy was torn between the feeling of completeness at having Elizabeth and her child in his arms, and knowing that, once again, he seemed to cause her anguish.