Love Calls Again

by Lucianne Elsworth

  "If you persist in calling him in so intimate a manner I will not be able to account for my actions. You have said and done enough. Now there is hardly anything for you here. Go and get your things. You are to return to Pemberley immediately."

  "To Pemberley? And what about my sister? I cannot abandon my sister. And you sir. I refuse to go anywhere without you."

  "Do as I bid you," his voice came in the tone of a threat.

  "What are you going to do about the divorce?" she inquired still perplexed by the violence of his expression.

  "I shall not admit a divorce," he said voicing his decision for the first time. Indeed, he had decided they would not have a divorce, yet they would lead separate lives.

  If anything, Elizabeth was puzzled. "But it is a settled thing." She was of course talking about Bingley's situation.

  "You heard me. No divorce."

  "The divorce is of no consequence. The great inconvenience here is the pregnancy!"

  He looked at her sharply. Was it possible that his beloved Elizabeth had become this cold, calculating woman in front of him? The very one that used to melt in his arms now admitting the child that she was carrying was merely an inconvenience?

  Darcy nodded mechanically, while his mind raced in a veritable commotion.

  "Very well. I shall talk with my solicitors when I return to London."

  "London? Are we going back to London?"

  "I am,"

  "No! You are not going anywhere without me! I shall not admit it, Darcy. If you continue in this manner I shall simply follow you."

  "You shall do as you are told. Your sister's malady could severely affect your state. You must go to Pemberley now. I shall see to Jane's recovery, if that pleases you and then we shall see to our future."

  He lowered his head and looking away he said under his breath. "But now you should rest. You look exceedingly pale." Even in the throes of pain, Darcy remained a loving husband.

  "But I promised Richard I would take care of Jane. I must go to her."

  "No!" he exclaimed with bitterness. "Do you not comprehend? I forbid you to remain here. Remember you are still my wife and must obey me!"

  Elizabeth's eyes glistened with tears. She had never seen him so angry and failed to grasp the source of his acrimony. Hence she could not prevent her sobbing.

  Darcy could not bear to hear her cry. She seldom cried, but when she did he was sure to feel guilty and this time was no exception. Fighting an absurd impulse to hold her and console her, but still in command of his countenance, he endeavoured to soften his asperity, if only for the sake of her pregnancy.

  "I have to see that you take good care of yourself, lest you shall catch Jane's malady after her… Go now. I shall call you the minute Fitzwilliam arrives with the doctor."

  But Elizabeth, however tired she felt, would not hear of it. Darcy, acting with all the firmness of a collected, cold mind, made every arrangement to ensure her rest. He called for the apothecary and gave instructions to the maid to take care of Jane. It was not before midnight that he finally contrived to put his unrelenting wife to bed. Yet, her behaviour was puzzling him exceedingly. On the one hand she had acknowledged him her understanding with Fitzwilliam, on the other she begged him to stay with her in the bedchamber, and insisted on his sleeping with her. He would not hear of it at first, but she pouted and cried on him until he had agreed to sit up in bed with her, candles out, till she fell asleep.

  The agreement settled, she began to ready herself for bed and asked him to help her disrobe, arguing that those were unseemly hours to wake up her exhausted maidservant. With what trembling hands did Darcy undo every little button on her garments! Determined as he was to keep detached, he peeled each layer of her gowns with demurred hesitancy, as if the flaming beauty he was revealing were not his to guzzle up at will, and his blood were not rushing wildly towards his loins.

  "Will you not come to bed with me?" she purred.

  "No. I am sleeping next door," he said curtly but still continued arduously and composedly undoing the many laces in her corset until the valley between the soft orbs widened as the corset became loose, freeing her breasts from their prison. The sight of those kept him enthralled as to make him momentarily forget why he was paying such servile a ministration onto his wife; the four-posted bed in the background hardly contributing to maintain his determination to return to a celibate life. Notwithstanding a contrariety of emotions, there was a moment that he watched come and go when it seemed inevitable that he would give way to temptation. But his pride, like a gloomy shadow between them, intervened and the moment passed. He raised his eyes from her bosom, only to be confronted with the enquiring look upon hers.

  "But why?"

  He answered something under his breath which she failed to grasp. In silent acceptance of whatever he had deigned to answer, she turned around and raised her hair thus indicating to him where he was to find the next button to undo. He readily obeyed; relieved that the temptation of her greatest asset had been removed from sight. At length the laces of the corset became entirely undone and together with her petticoat they fell in a pool at her feet.

  She shivered, half in cold, half of emotion and before he could say a word or take another step to put distance between them, she caught his hand, in a vain attempt to show him the absurdity of his behaviour. Scarcely had he endeavoured to retire a little than she stopped him at mid stride. Ever so slowly, he turned to inspect at her nude form.

  And from his inspection he found a perfect roundness protruding from her otherwise slim body. He had hardly expected that. Yet the sight of it was so entirely pleasant to him, and so surprising, and appealing, that for the first time since he had embarked himself upon this painful process of detachment he broke out in real, rich, unrestrained laughter.

  He laughed so much that tears rimmed his eyes.

  "You laugh at me?" she scolded him, offended by his mirth. "Pray, tell me. What is it that you find so merry? This is entirely your doing, sir," she reminded him.

  Darcy bit his lip and endeavoured to restrain his laughter. "I am sorry. It is so… you are so…"

  "Round!" she bellowed.

  "No! No, you are perfect. It is only that I did not… I have not envisaged seeing you like this," he tried to explain. "Of course I knew you would eventually… but it is so suddenly." In truth he did not find any fault in her form. It had only caught him completely by surprise. To think she was carrying his child was simply delightful. Enthralled, he bid her permission to feel it.

  "May I?"

  With great elation, Elizabeth raised her chin. Indeed, he may. He could touch whichever part of her body he so chose.

  "Does it move?"

  "Oh yes," she nodded emphatically. "He kicks and bolts and whatnot in here."

  "He?"

  "Oh well! It is merely a wish. I would love so to have a little one that takes after you. I have christened him little Darcy."

  Despite himself, Darcy was grinning like the Cheshire cat, that is if Mr Carol had written his famous tale by then (he could not, for he was born twenty years afterwards). Unbeknownst to him, Darcy had hit the most unexpected wall: his own paternity that was screaming blue murder for his natural instincts, filling his heart with all sort of tender sentiments for the child to be born to him.

  In noticing his enthusiasm, Elizabeth got excited too. "Wait," she said with great expectancy as if she was going to unveil a secret. "Look at this."

  Her nude form tiptoed about the room, and Darcy stood there nailed to the floor as she went over to a chest of drawers and, taking something from one of the drawers, put it into her mouth. Then she came back, she took him by the hand and sat up in bed, dragging her husband with her.

  "Come. Put your hand here and be still. You will see."

  "What have you got in your mouth?"

  "Candy."

  "Candy?"

  "Yes."

  A few minutes later, Darcy was beginning to feel restless.

  "What
are we waiting for?" he asked impatiently.

  "Shhh. Just be still."

  At length her efforts were rewarded, for her tummy began to suffer a most extraordinary transformation, abandoning its perfect roundness, it waved up and down, until the creature kicked its father's hand with such force, that Darcy almost leapt in surprise.

  "Great Lord! I have never seen anything of the kind! Does it hurt?"

  "Oh, no!"

  She repeated the process with great delectation and her husband this time put his ear against her tummy and with high expectation remained in his position until the child performed its act again.

  After the third time, Elizabeth protested a little.

  "I am cold. Will you not warm my feet?"

  "I shall go for a blanket."

  "Pray. Just come to me and hug me. I shall be fine in a moment."

  Reluctantly, Darcy went over and climbed onto the bed, but did not go under the covers with her. For the longest time they remained like so, in complete silence. Then Elizabeth assured him she had missed him and talked of sleepless nights without his warmth in the bed. Darcy said nothing. He merely sat up beside her until both of them succumbed to a slumber.

  He woke up to find himself entwined in her arms in a tangle of covers and limbs. God, how much he had missed her! He fought an urgent need to make love to her, until she, in her sleep, took the final decision. She began to rub herself against him, while the lowest of whimpers escaped her mouth. Her breathing became heavier and her hands, ever so naturally, began to fondle him with exceeding passion.

  Eventually, he gave in to her and his own desire. In the depth of the night, Darcy forgot all notion of resentment and made love to his wife.

  When Darcy opened his eyes, it was not after eight o'clock. He rose hastily and hurried to Jane's room. He found his cousin leaning pensively against the wall of his sister-in-law's bedchamber.

  "Is the doctor in there?"

  Fitzwilliam shook his head.

  "No. He is gone to Longbourn, checking the rest of the family. He fears the malady is extremely contagious and wishes to check on everybody. He will be staying here, anyway, until tomorrow."

  "How did he find his patient?"

  "He is optimistic. Though he is very much concerned for the pregnancy." Darcy noticed Richard's eyes glistened with tears. In hearing Fitzwilliam saying the child was in danger Darcy froze, thinking he was talking of his own. "Gracious Lord!" he cried alarmed. "I shall take him to Elizabeth."

  "He said he would see to her when he returns from Longbourn. No need to wake her up immediately."

  "But the child. You said he is concerned…"

  Fitzwilliam's pallor was unprecedented. As he spoke, words drawled in his mouth painfully. "The doctor fears my child will not survive, Darcy. But she is safe. It must be God's curse." Richard almost choked with sorrow.

  Darcy could hardly believe his ears. His child would not survive? Whose child? A cold sweat began to form in his back. "Fitzwilliam. Of what are you talking?"

  "Darcy, the child is mine."

  Fifty-One

  —

  Frankness Notwithstanding

  If for one the information Darcy received had astonished and horrified him, yet there was something in his cousin's demeanour that told him the child in question was by no means Elizabeth's. For a brief moment Darcy had believed that such could have been the case, but further pondering proved the idea completely preposterous. Unfortunately, further enlightening on the subject was to be postponed since the conversation was interrupted by the doctor, who had just arrived from his short visit to Longbourn, and Darcy, ever so anxious to determine his unborn baby's health, ran to wake up Elizabeth so that the doctor could see her.

  However gloomy the doctor's first visit must have left Fitzwilliam, his second visit did not fail to make some amends, for though acknowledging the serious condition of the patient, the doctor would not allow the danger to be material even for the baby, and talked of the relief which a fresh mode of treatment must procure. Indeed, his medicines did not fail to relieve his patient quickly, and ever since she received them, Jane slept through the whole day.

  But the malady had, unfortunately been passed onto Mrs Bennet, and she in turned passed it to Miss Georgiana. Both of them were now running a fever and being attended by Mary, who had just arrived to nurse her sister Jane. Darcy rushed to Longbourn to see to them. To his surprise, he found Mr Wickham at the side of his sister's bed.

  "Wickham!"

  Wickham sprang to his feet and squared his shoulders in a soldier's manner.

  "What the devil are you doing here?"

  Quivering slightly, Wickham endeavoured to explain his presence. "You do not mean to say you have been sleeping under the same roof as Georgiana?"

  Georgiana, weak as she was, managed to raise her head and speak to Darcy. "Oh, stop this brother. Pray don't be angry and break the furniture. Wickham merely escorted me and your wife to Netherfield in your stead. This is his home, too. At least it was until recently."

  "For shame, Wickham! I thought you and I understood each other!" Wickham's pallor defied a ghost. He had never felt worst in his life. Unable to utter the minimal phrase, he chose to recoil.

  "Brother. You have been always been and kind to me. Pray, you are annoying me. Wickham has done me and Elizabeth a great service. Besides, there is something we must say to you."

  "We?" bounced out Darcy with tempered anger.

  "Wickham has asked my hand in matrimony and I have accepted him."

  "Oh, this is rich! You have, have you not? And since when you take such decision on your own?" he said that with great bitterness since he grew very angry with the news. "But we are not going to discuss this now. You are not fit to talk." Turning to Wickham he commanded him, "Wickham, pray leave my sister's room. I shall have a word with you later, Georgiana." Then motioning the gentleman to follow him, he ordered him, "Wickham, this way sir."

  ~•~

  When at last Elizabeth saw her sister again, she was just awakening, refreshed by so long a sleep. Elizabeth's heart was full. She was so much overcome by her happiness than she had ever been by her fears. Shedding tears of joy, though unable to speak, she embraced her sister again and again.

  At intervals, Elizabeth's gaze turned towards Colonel Fitzwilliam, with a look which spoke both of concern and puzzlement. What was he planning to do? Was he truly in love with Jane? Had he been the cause for her sister's sudden divorce?

  At Jane's particular request, for she was impatient to see him, Colonel's Fitzwilliam was summoned to her bedside, chaperoned by Elizabeth. His emotion in seeing her, and in receiving the pale hand which she immediately held out to him, was such as to surprise Elizabeth exceedingly. They talked for a while, the colonel kneeling to the side of Jane's bed, his face gently reclined to softly speak into her ear.

  Elizabeth, though never quitting the room, sat with her eyes busily employed in her embroidery, endeavouring not to hear a word that was said by the couple who, in truth, did a good job at concealing their conversation from her. For Richard, never abandoning Jane's bedside, endeavoured to speak under his breath. At length, Elizabeth grew visibly embarrassed by the obvious intimacy existent between them; for, despite Jane's weakness, the presence of the colonel did a great deal in cheering her up, to Elizabeth's vexation. Fidgeting uncomfortably in her seat, and unaccustomed as she was at such behaviour from her beloved sister, on hearing Jane giggling, Elizabeth cleared her throat to remind the couple of her presence.

  Richard tossed his head to catch a short glimpse at Elizabeth's serious demeanour, and realising her discomfort, prepared himself to take his leave.

  "Your sister seems to be missing your company, Jane," he said to his lover, an inner pride to see Elizabeth slightly jealous overwhelming him. "I shall leave you both alone now. May I be so bold so as to claim your company in the morrow? Perchance I can come after you have finished your breakfast?"

  Jane nodded emphatically, a happy smil
e primly printed on her face.

  As he quitted the room, Colonel Fitzwilliam whispered to Elizabeth's ear.

  "I thank you."

  Elizabeth sent a quizzical look at him. How could he be so cheeky! Lord! She would never comprehend men! So honourable they thought they were, then the next thing they did was get involved with a married woman. Richard had outdone himself this time, taking advantage of Jane in such a shameful way. What would he do next? She found a conversation with her ulterior fiancée uppermost. Sighing soundly, she dropped her needlework on the seat and followed him determined to speak her mind.

  She found him in the library, helping himself to Bingley's port.

  "I must have a word with you, Richard."

  He looked around before asking, "Where's Darcy?"

  "He is with Georgiana at Longbourn."

  "Does he know we are having this conversation?"

  "He does not," said she rather put out. "What does it signify?"

  "In that case I shall appreciate that you first communicate whatever you wish to talk with me to your husband. I shall be glad to discuss it with him afterwards."

  "Richard, I am afraid it is a matter of great importance that I speak to you soon as possible."

  Richard shifted uncomfortably in his position, his voice detached and accusatory at the same time as he answered her: "If what you wish to discuss is by any chance in connection with Jane, I must say there is precious little for us to discuss. You already know that your sister and I have been involved in an adulterous relationship. But you perchance know what that means, do you not, Mrs Darcy." He hissed the last words meaningfully.

  Elizabeth's face flushed.

  "I am not in the mood for hypocrite conversation, Elizabeth. I dare say neither you, nor your husband are in position to judge my behaviour or Jane's. I love your sister." He marked those words emphatically, "Yes. Do not look at me that way. I love her. She is bearing my child, my heir may be. We shall be married from Hunsford next week. End of story."

  "How could you, Richard! Whatever were you thinking?"

  "Whatever was I thinking?" Fitzwilliam fury rose. It was more than he could take. If he could cope with Darcy's emotions and accusations, he could not with Elizabeth's. She had hurt him. She had been mean and unfaithful. She had cheated on him. She deserved no compassion. "Perchance I was thinking I deserve someone who really meant it when she said she loved me," he said exasperated, his voice in crescendo. "Perchance I was thinking I deserved to be happy for once. Or may be was merely trying to forget a certain person who had vowed to wait for me while in truth had been meddling with my married cousin. Who knows?"