Mr. Darcy's Forbidden Love-kindle (93 page)

“Yes, even Frances seems to like Lady Colleen, though one can never be sure what Edgar’s wife truly thinks. As long as she acts in a friendly manner, I am satisfied.”

“I feel the same about her actions toward Elizabeth.”

With the mention of his wife, Darcy rose on his toes to locate her on the dance floor. Seeing her laugh as she twirled about the floor with Edgar caused him to frown. Having had two dances with her already, it was irrational to be envious of Edgar’s set, but he was. Not insensible to his cousin’s feelings, Richard noticed his discomfit and, as usual, decided to make the most of it.

“Edgar is a very a good dancer,” he ventured. “I think he has bested you and me at the art, would you not say so, Darcy?”

William took a deep breath but refused to comment, so Richard tried again.

“Though he has never been my favourite person, I will give him his due! He is light on his feet! I can certainly see why Elizabeth, well, all the ladies, love to partner with him.”

Just then the dance ended, and William tired not to smile as he whispered to his cousin, “I suppose Lady Colleen is fortunate then, for since Edgar has exhausted his sets with Elizabeth, he will most likely impress your fiancée next.”

Richard’s brow furrowed as he turned to see Edgar leading Elizabeth off the floor and in the direction of Colleen. “I think I shall see if my fiancée would care for some punch.”

William chuckled as Richard rushed to collect Colleen and lead her towards the refreshments. Then straightening to his full height, he went to collect his wife. The viscount was still talking with Elizabeth when he stepped forward to claim her.

“Your wife is a lively conversationalist as well as a wonderful dancer, Darcy. I cannot say when I have enjoyed a dance so well.”

“I agree that she is both,” William remarked taking her hand and wrapping it around his arm. “Now, if you will excuse us, Edgar, I think Elizabeth could use a respite from dancing.” 

Edgar nodded, following the Darcys with his eyes as they walked away.

That woman is extraordinary. Darcy is a damn lucky man! I wish I had had the courage to marry for love instead of money.

“Are you not going to ask me to dance, Edgar?”  His wife’s whiny voice broke the spell, and Edgar turned to display a pasted on smile.

“I had no idea you wished to dance with me, Frances. After all, most of the time you had rather partner one of those dandies who populate every social occasion.”

“But you seem so in demand tonight that I thought I should like to see what I might have missed. After all, you seem to be a most sought after partner.”

Thus, the viscount spent the rest of the night being shadowed by his jealous wife.

~~~*~~~

Wearier than she had imagined she would be at this hour, Elizabeth was glad to reach the corner of the ballroom where Fitzwilliam helped her to a seat on an upholstered bench. Wishing for some fresh air but knowing that William was unlikely to let her go outside with the temperatures dropping, she made another request.

“I would dearly love a glass of punch, Fitzwilliam.”

William leaned down to say quietly, “If you will promise to wait right here until I return, I shall be happy to be of service.”

“Of course.”

He had walked only a few feet when he encountered Lady Ashcroft. Elizabeth smiled as she watched them both look in her direction. Afterward, William continued on his way while her aunt hurried to sit beside her, patting her hand as she did.

“How is one of my favourite people?” As she got a better look at Elizabeth, her expression changed to concern, and she reached to tilt her niece’s face gently from side to side, as a mother might a child. When she spoke, it was just loud enough for Elizabeth to hear.  “You look a little pale, my dear. Has the evening been too strenuous?”

“I would never tell Fitzwilliam, as he has been after me to leave since supper, but I am just a bit fatigued,” Elizabeth confessed, smiling wanly. “I was never this tired so early in the evening.”

“You must make allowances for your condition, and you must not overtax yourself. Bless him, Fitzwilliam is right in that regard.” She chuckled quietly. “Not that you should always let him know that he is right.”

“Now, from one who thinks of you as a daughter, I believe you should listen to your husband tonight. You have done your duty to the family and endured long enough. Go home and get some rest.” She thought for a moment and then added, “And I do mean for you to rest! Do not let Fitzwilliam persuade you into other activities. I happen to know he can be quite charming when he wants something very much.”

Suddenly, William was standing before them with a glass of punch and a small plate of biscuits. As he presented the refreshments to Elizabeth, he declared, “Sweets for my sweet!”

Elizabeth and Audrey both began to chuckle, covering their mouths so as not to be heard by those nearby.

William’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I am sorry if I said something amiss. I was only endeavouring to be charming.”

This caused them to laugh even more. 

~~~*~~~

Pemberley
June, 1813

As the sun rose over the peaks, casting faint light on the old Pemberley Chapel at the top of the hill and dispelling the morning mist, Fitzwilliam Darcy made his way up the familiar stone steps. He had slipped out of bed before dawn so as not to awaken Elizabeth and then walked the short distance to this place in hopes of accomplishing what he wished before she discovered he was no longer in their bed. He felt drawn here on this particular day.

Departing the manor stealthily, only a few servants were aware that he had risen, much less left the house, but Mrs. Reynolds knew. Whenever he was in residence, she seemed to have a sixth sense about where he was at all times. And just when he thought he had escaped her detection, she appeared in the foyer with a small bouquet of flowers collected from the conservatory. Without a word, she offered it to him, waiting until he shifted the blanket-wrapped form tucked securely under his chin in order to grasp them. He nodded his appreciation though his heart was too full of emotion to form a proper smile of gratitude.

Sometimes she knows me too well. 

The chapel was now plainly visible—a small but regal stone building, utilised for centuries for baptisms, funerals and private devotions by his relations, most of whom were buried in the tree-canopied acreage next to it. At some point in time, an elaborate wrought-iron fence, featuring a grand lych-gate*
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with a cross atop it, had been erected around the cemetery and ordinarily, he would stop to admire the gate’s ornate workmanship before slipping inside the sacred plot. But not today—today he was of a singular mind.

Weathered headstones, which had been lost in fog only minutes before, now appeared to rise out of the haze—silent sentinels marking final resting places. Silently threading his way through the hallowed ground, he spied the stone marking the gravesite of the one person he missed most sorely since the birth of his first child.

Anne Fitzwilliam Darcy

Beloved Wife and Mother

June 25, 1761 – March 3, 1810**
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Unbidden tears filled his eyes at the sight, and he blinked to keep them at bay. Kneeling on the soft grass that covered his mother’s grave, he carefully laid the flowers near the stone and then began to open the top of the securely wrapped bundle. One arm, covered with a soft knitted coat, waved wildly as it was set free and his heart swelled with love at the sight. Continuing the task, the other arm was soon liberated along with an angelic face that was almost lost beneath a matching knit cap of blue. A fringe of black hair framed the beloved visage while light blue eyes, ringed by equally black lashes, squinted against the sunlight now spreading across this place.

“Do not fret, little one. Papa is here.”

Hearing his father’s voice, the baby focused on William and he smiled a toothless grin. That expression garnered several kisses across his cheeks before William turned the boy to face his grandmother’s headstone. Then taking a ragged breath, he began to speak.

“Mother, may I present your grandson, Fitzwilliam Alexander Marshall Darcy, who is ten weeks old today. I intended to bring him here before now, however, immediately after his birth, we had unseasonably cold weather, and Elizabeth feared taking him out of doors. She is very protective of our son. You, of all people, would understand. After all, you were equally as protective of Georgiana and me.”

He glanced down at the baby who was now unusually quiet as he took in his surroundings. 

“Elizabeth had an arduous labour, and her welfare has weighed heavily on my mind these past weeks. I thank God that she is greatly improved and that Alexander is thriving, allowing me to bring him here today.” He smiled as he described his son. “Elizabeth is delighted that he favours me, while I would have been pleased if he looked more like her. Nonetheless, he has my hair, eyes and the Darcy nose. Mercifully, I believe that he has inherited her personality. After all, he is a very lively and contented little fellow.”

As if agreeing, Alexander gurgled loudly once more, this time waving his arms simultaneously and causing his father to smile in earnest before focusing on the headstone again.

“Alex has quite the appetite, as Elizabeth can barely finish with one feeding before he cries for another and, yes, she insists on nursing him against my wishes. I felt it was too much for her to bear during her recuperation, but she would not listen.” He smiled lovingly at the headstone. “Aunt Audrey tells me that she is much like you in that regard.”

Then William became pensive as he considered that truth. “Truly though, her spiritedness in standing up for what she believes is what I admire most about my wife. You would have loved her, Mother.”

At that point, he turned Alexander back around to face himself, running a finger down a chubby cheek which caused the baby and his father to smile at each other before William continued.

“There is hardly a day that goes by that I am not reminded of you, especially as I attempt to recall everything you taught me about infants when Georgiana was born. And be assured that I shall tell Alexander and all of our children stories of their grandmother, so your influence will be felt in their lives for years to come.”

Carefully he began to rewrap the baby in the blanket as though preparing to leave. “I should return, for I do not want to frighten Elizabeth. She might awaken and wonder where her husband and son have wandered.” As he stood and gathered Alex under his chin, he added, “I… I just wanted to tell you that I miss you sorely on this day—your birthday. You were the best of mothers and I love you.”

A soft voice came from behind, “Fitzwilliam?”

Whirling around, Elizabeth stood only a few feet away. At once, his eyes flew to a figure standing several feet behind—Mr. Spruill, one of the footmen entrusted with her safety. Acutely aware of how independent his wife was, he surmised that the guard must rise very early in order to stay ahead of his wife. Mentally, he made a note to give the man an increase in wages, even as he schooled himself not to show any concern that she had walked so far without the doctor’s authorization.

“Mr. Booker will not be pleased that you have undertaken a walk of this magnitude without his permission. This hill is not an easy climb for me, much less someone who has recently given birth.”

“Fitzwilliam, you know that Mr. Booker would likely give his permission at my next appointment, which is only two days hence, and I have regained a good deal of my strength by walking the halls of Pemberley. In any event, when I awoke to find you gone and Alexander missing as well, I became a bit concerned. I had just decided to begin a search, when Mrs. Curry awoke. When she insisted that you had never taken Alexander without informing her, I began to imagine all sorts of things.”

“I am sorry, my love. Please accept my apology. I did not intend to worry you or Mrs. Curry. She was sound asleep on the bed in his room, and I did not wish to disturb her. I fully expected to have him back before he was missed.”

Elizabeth’s face softened. “I know you did not mean to alarm anyone. But thank goodness Providence bade me glance out the window to see you walking in this direction. It was then that I recalled the significance of this day.” 

Properly chastised, William turned to look across the great expanse of Pemberley visible from this vantage point. For a long time he said nothing, though the expression on his face made it plain that he was struggling with what he said next.

“I realise that Mother is not here—that she is with God. However, I feel close to her in the silence of this place.” Nodding towards a stone bench under a tall oak, he added, “I often found her there. Father had that bench made so that she would not have to sit on the ground. She often said that being amongst our ancestors gave her a different perspective on her problems, recognising that one does not live forever.” 

“She was very wise.” Elizabeth replied, stepping closer and bringing a bouquet of flowers from behind her back. They were very similar to his offering.

He smiled. “Mrs. Reynolds?”

Elizabeth nodded.  “I decided to follow you in order to pay my respects to the woman who gave birth to my wonderful husband and provided me the opportunity to give birth to his son.”

William’s eyes were suspiciously shiny as he stepped aside for Elizabeth to place the flowers next to his. Then, still holding Alexander securely to his chest, he pulled her into his embrace as well. For a long while they formed a circle around their son, while William alternately kissed the top of Elizabeth’s head and then Alexander’s. Afterwards, he began to guide them back towards the path that led down the hill. And as they slowly made their way towards the front of the manor, Alexander decided he was hungry and made the fact known by beginning to cry.

Elizabeth laughed. “We had better hurry, or your son shall awaken the entire household before we are even inside. When he wants to be fed, he is not very patient.”