Truth about Mr. Darcy (25 page)

True to his word, Darcy did almost nothing but stare at his wife for most of the evening. Indeed, Elizabeth was stunning in her elegant dove-gray silk, which seemed to shimmer with every movement of her body. He admired the way Sonia had arranged her hair, with what appeared to be one long, delicate, curling branch of sterling silver leaves entwined throughout her gorgeous mass of curls. The contrast between the color of her hair and the highlights of the silver was eye-catching. If his life had depended upon it, Darcy could not have imagined tearing himself away from the picture of enticing elegance before him.

At one point in the performance, Elizabeth turned her gaze upon him, and their eyes held for several long moments. She reached for his hand, and as the music soared, Darcy found himself leaning in, his gaze now upon her lips, and before either of them knew what they were about, Darcy surrendered every claim to rational thought and kissed her. He heard a loud gasp of shock, though whether it had come from Elizabeth or from some other source, he could not determine, for Elizabeth had immediately turned away, and as he glanced around him in the dim interior of the opera house, he noticed many curious pairs of eyes turned upon him in wonder, amusement, and censure.

“Whoever is that beautiful creature who has so enchanted your nephew, Catherine, that he would abandon all sense of propriety in full company?” asked the all-powerful Lady Malcolm, who happened to be sharing a box with several other notable dowagers across the way.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh sniffed. “She is of no consequence.”

Lady Malcolm raised her brow. “Really?” she inquired dryly. “Well, I never would have guessed, as she seems to be most comfortably installed with your brother and sister-in-law, not to mention that Darcy has not taken his eyes from her all night. Humph. Nobody of consequence, indeed.”

“Yes,” chimed the agreeable Lady Sowersby, “I have noticed that myself. Come, Catherine! Indulge us and tell us her name.”

Lady Catherine huffed and, in her most disagreeable tone of voice, said, “She
was
known as Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Hertfordshire.”

Lady Sowersby and Lady Malcolm exchanged knowing looks and smiled to themselves.

“So are we to understand that the highly coveted and ever-elusive master of Pemberley has found someone who has enticed him to the altar at last?” asked Lady Sowersby, barely able to conceal her enthusiasm.

Lady Catherine snorted. “You do not know the half of it, Eleanor!”

Lady Malcolm appraised her shrewdly. “If my eyes have not deceived me, Catherine, your nephew has fallen in love with this pretty, young woman, leaving you with no prospective bridegroom for Anne and a bitter taste in your mouth.”

“Fallen in love with her!” she spat. “What has love to do with anything? She has drawn him in and has ruined any chance Anne has of finding happiness. Just look what she has done to him! She is penniless and unconnected, yet he can hardly attend to anything but her!” She gestured furiously at Darcy, who was, at that very moment, speaking in Elizabeth’s ear, an intimate smile playing across his lips. His wife turned to him with a smile that echoed his and laughed at whatever he had said; then she rested her hand upon his upper arm and laid her head against his shoulder for a few moments. Darcy pressed a kiss to her temple and closed his eyes. In a gesture of obvious devotion, Elizabeth lifted his hand to her lips, bestowing a kiss upon his knuckles. Lady Sowersby sighed at their touching, yet highly improper display.

“Yes,” countered Lady Malcolm, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “God forbid the poor man ever finds himself happy in life.” She turned toward Lady Catherine. “I daresay your favorite nephew is far better off as he is now, Catherine—married to an agreeable young woman who obviously cares a great deal for his society, rather than being constantly pursued by the countless others who care only for his prominent position
in
it.”

“And a love match at that,” sighed Lady Sowersby. “Just like that of his dear parents. It is precisely like a fairy tale, is it not?”

Lady Catherine only scowled, choosing not to respond, and they soon turned their attention back to the performance on stage.

Forgive me, Bingley. I realize I should not have allowed my temper to get the better of me, but considering the circumstances, I am afraid it could not be helped. I had it on good authority your sister had been responsible for regaling her friends with her distorted prejudices regarding Elizabeth’s situation and the nature of my attentions to her during the course of our courtship. She was hardly discreet, as several of Mrs. Duval’s assistants were speaking most improperly of the hateful gossip Caroline had imparted to Cecelia Hayward in their presence.”

Darcy rose from the mahogany desk in his study to stand before the window, clearly agitated. “To this day, Elizabeth has not spoken of it to me, but Georgiana immediately informed me she had witnessed firsthand the very great pain and mortification Elizabeth experienced that day in Bond Street. Your sister’s bitterness led the staff to treat Elizabeth with rudeness and contempt. In light of that fact and the unpleasant scene that unfolded at Hurst’s home shortly before my wedding day, I can no longer pretend your sister’s behavior toward my wife is anything other than calculating and spiteful. I will not stand idly by and allow my wife to be harassed and humiliated, Bingley.”

Bingley ran his hands over his face and sighed. “No, of course not, Darcy, nor will I allow it. Do not forget that Elizabeth and I shall soon become brother and sister.” Bingley walked several paces. “Damn! I had a strong suspicion Caroline had purposely withheld some sort of pertinent information regarding her encounter with you in Bond Street the other day. Now I have a much better understanding as to why. Thank you for enlightening me.”

Darcy walked to the sideboard and poured two glasses of brandy. He handed one to Bingley, which his friend gratefully accepted, then resumed his original station behind his desk. “Bingley, as a testament to the strength of our friendship—and assuming it is also what you wish—I would, of course, be willing to acknowledge your sister in society. However, unless she is able to treat Elizabeth with the respect and civility that is her due as my wife, I regret to say she will no longer be welcome in my home. In
any
of my homes,” he added pointedly.

To Darcy’s surprise, his friend laughed. “Do you mean to tell me we might actually manage to pass a fortnight at Pemberley in relative peace, then? Without fear of Caroline’s constant raptures on the evenness of your writing or the length of your correspondence?”

Darcy joined him, a chuckle escaping his lips. “Or the many accomplishments of a truly refined lady or the extensive size of my library or the superiority of Madame Harnois’s blancmange as opposed to that of the Hursts’
equally
capable French cook? Yes, I see your point, Bingley.”

Both men took long, satisfying drinks from their glasses, each clearly occupied by his own thoughts.
Hmm,
Darcy mused,
I daresay if Caroline Bingley refuses to treat Elizabeth with civility, then this may very well be the first year I will not be required to take the precaution of locking the door to the master’s chambers while I am within—or without, for that matter. Of course, with a wife as lovely and tempting as Elizabeth, perhaps I shall continue to do so in any case.

Bingley gave him a sly grin. “I was just thinking, Darcy, that perhaps you should not be too hasty in your reconciliation with Caroline. You know, this could be just the thing she needs to humble her once and for all. I would be very interested to see how my high-and-mighty sister would react to being reminded that your wife is the granddaughter of a gentleman, something Caroline, with her dowry of twenty thousand pounds, cannot claim herself. Our grandfather, you will recall, was in trade.”

Darcy returned his self-satisfied smile. “You know, Bingley, being well acquainted with your sister and her inability to hold her tongue and her temper when in company, I daresay the possibility of seeing her humbled in society may yet be realized.” Eying his friend’s empty glass, Darcy asked, “Would you care for another, Bingley?”

Bingley nodded and offered his glass to his host. “I don’t mind if I do, Darcy! I don’t mind if I do!”

***

Elizabeth was walking in Hyde Park on a particularly mild winter morning with Jane and her Aunt Gardiner when she felt a wave of light-headedness overtake her. She stumbled, managing to catch Jane’s arm, but her vision was soon obscured by encroaching darkness, and she collapsed, unconscious, upon the ground. She awoke moments later to the concerned face of her aunt hovering over her as she lay with her head cradled upon Jane’s lap.

“Oh, Lizzy! Thank goodness you have come back to us!” It was Jane’s worried voice she heard first, and in an effort to reassure her, Elizabeth reached for her hand and held it, returning the slight pressure Jane applied. She attempted to rise, but her aunt urged her to lie still.

“Lizzy, my dear, how are you feeling? Can you remember what happened?” asked her aunt, whose composure was remarkably collected.

“I hardly know. I remember feeling warm and light-headed, and then everything began to grow dark, but I can recall nothing beyond that.”

Mrs. Gardiner laid the back of her hand upon Elizabeth’s forehead and then her cheek. “You fainted, Elizabeth. Tell me, have you been feeling unwell lately?”

“No, not at all, except I have felt a little light-headed on other occasions, but only when I happen to rise quickly from my chair or from my bed in the morning.”

Her aunt gave her an appraising look. “Were you ill this morning, or any other mornings?”

Elizabeth answered in the negative.

“Have you felt unusually tired at all?”

“Yes, now that you mention it, I have, but I suspect that is due only to my not getting enough sleep lately.”

They spoke some more while Elizabeth rested, and after the passing of another few minutes, she was well able to rise to her feet with Jane’s assistance and to think of returning to Grosvenor Square for some light refreshment.

Though the reality of her fainting had frightened her to some degree, she no longer felt she was in any danger of repeating the act, and, as she had felt recovered enough to walk on her own two legs to the carriage, she could hardly comprehend why her aunt wished her to exercise such caution once she had safely returned to her own home. She was standing in the drawing room, arguing the matter further, when Darcy came upon them. Upon hearing his wife proclaim herself to be perfectly fine
now
, his brow furrowed.

“May I inquire as to what you are arguing about so vehemently with your aunt, Mrs. Darcy?”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “I would prefer you would not, sir, as there is no need to mention the matter any further. As you can see with your own eyes, I am perfectly well, and that is all that matters.”

Mrs. Gardiner spoke up. “Yes, Lizzy, but it could very easily happen again. You have said yourself you have been having bouts of light-headedness for some time now. Do you not think this is an indication you ought to take greater care?” She turned to Darcy and said pointedly, “Lizzy fainted this morning in Hyde Park, Mr. Darcy.”

His brows shot up, his concern evident. “You fainted, Elizabeth? Why on earth would you ever wish to keep this from me? Do not you think I should be made aware of such information? I am your husband, Elizabeth. What if something were to happen to you? I would hardly know what to do for you!”

“This,” she said with exasperation as she threw her hands in the air and dropped herself into the nearest chair, “is precisely why I have not informed you, Fitzwilliam. I am sure whatever is ailing me will soon pass, and then I shall be the same as I have always been.”

Mrs. Gardiner, however, observed her newly married niece with no small amount of amusement. “I would certainly not count on
that
, if I were you, my dear. At least not for some time,” she proclaimed.

Darcy gaped at her, his alarm palpable, while Elizabeth leaned forward in her chair and laughed. “Surely there can be nothing seriously wrong with me, Aunt?”

Her aunt only smiled and shook her head, glancing from Elizabeth to her worried husband and back again. Suddenly, the eyes of her nieces lit up with pleasure as a happy possibility for Elizabeth’s situation made itself known, but Darcy, who clearly had not interpreted Mrs. Gardiner’s implication as it had been intended, only continued to grow more concerned for his wife. Eager to enlighten him and to ease his mind, Elizabeth rose with no little alacrity and hastened to where he stood but, before she could do more than take his hand in hers, her head began to spin again. Darcy caught her in his arms just as she fainted.

***

Doctor Carter closed the door to Elizabeth’s bedchamber and entered her sitting room, where Darcy had been pacing in constant agitation for the last three quarters of an hour. Clearing his throat, the doctor said, “Other than a minor bump on her head, most likely from her fall in Hyde Park, your wife is perfectly healthy, Mr. Darcy. With any luck, everything will go smoothly, and there will hardly be any reason to worry for many months to come, but you had better accustom yourself to pacing, sir. You will find it to be the only thing you will be able to do once Mrs. Darcy’s time finally comes.”

Judging from the expression of alarm on his face, it was clear Darcy had no better understanding of Doctor Carter’s words than he had of Mrs. Gardiner’s. “I thought you just declared Mrs. Darcy to be in perfect health?” he asked.

The doctor observed him for a moment. “Mr. Darcy,” he said evenly, “may I inquire as to what knowledge you may have of your wife’s current condition?”

“I assure you, I have not the slightest knowledge of her condition. She has fainted twice today and has informed me she has been feeling faint periodically since Christmas. Surely that cannot be an indication of good health.”

Doctor Carter chuckled. “Sir, perhaps you should speak with your wife at this time. I assure you, Mrs. Darcy is feeling quite well—she
is
quite well—and is most likely anxious to inform you of her condition herself. If you find you are in any further need of my services, it will be my pleasure to attend you. Please feel free to summon me at any hour, day or night.” He placed his hat upon his head and said briskly, “Good day to you, sir,” before taking his leave.

Still ill at ease over the state of Elizabeth’s health, not to mention puzzled, he thanked the doctor, bid him a hasty farewell, and strode to the door to his wife’s bedchamber. He breathed deeply and ran his hands over his face several times before he finally turned the handle and entered. Elizabeth appeared to be lying peacefully upon the bed, wearing her nightshift and dressing gown. She smiled at him from the midst of a large pile of pillows and beckoned him to join her. He was at her side almost immediately.

“How are you feeling, my love?” he inquired, feathering a kiss upon her forehead as well as the hand he clasped almost violently in his. “Are you comfortable? Can I get you anything?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Have you spoken with Doctor Carter, Fitzwilliam?”

Darcy simply nodded and looked away, not trusting himself to speak.

“And?” she asked.

Her husband remained silent.

Elizabeth could not understand his solemn reaction—his complete lack of enthusiasm—to such wonderful, nay, such miraculous, news. Her smile faltered and then faded completely. “You are not pleased, then,” she whispered, a crushing burden of disappointment weighing upon her heart.

Darcy turned to look at her, a wealth of emotions flooding his eyes. He somehow managed to keep his composure as he muttered, “I wish only for you to be well, my love. That is truly the only thing that matters.”

She stared at him for a moment before she finally understood what he might be thinking. “Fitzwilliam,” she asked, her voice quiet, tentative, “you do
understand that I am going to have a child and not apoplexy?”

He stared at her, his mouth literally falling open. “
A child?
You mean to tell me you are not… that you are only… that is to say…”

Darcy finally abandoned his attempts at verbal communication in favor of running the back of his hand over his mouth for several moments. Elizabeth watched with growing amusement as his agitation seemed to increase to what she suspected to be an almost intolerable proportion. At long last, he blurted out, “You are
with child
? Elizabeth, you are completely certain of this?”

Elizabeth stroked his cheek with her fingers and smoothed a stray curl from his furrowed brow. “Yes,” she assured him. “Of course, we will not know for certain until the baby quickens, but Doctor Carter is fairly sure I am, though only in the very early stages, and I believe my aunt also shares his opinion.”

Relief flooded his features and Darcy placed a kiss upon her temple before he buried his face in her hair. “Thank God,” he murmured, his voice strained with emotion.

Elizabeth held him close. “My dearest,” she said, her tone soft and soothing, “I promise you, all is well. Doctor Carter has assured me many women experience similar symptoms and go through their confinements with very little or no difficulty at all. He does not anticipate my confinement to be any different and believes we shall have a healthy son or daughter to bring to Pemberley sometime in the middle of September.”

Darcy raised his head and cradled her face in his hands, searching her eyes for a long while. “Elizabeth,” he began, his voice quiet and filled with hesitation, “does it not frighten you? Even a little? Are you not scared?”

Suspecting he had been thinking of his mother, she shook her head and smiled. “No. I feel only happiness. This precious new life has begun from our love, Fitzwilliam. It is an extraordinary gift we have given one another, is it not?”

Not trusting himself to answer, Darcy responded in the only other way he knew, and leaned in to caress her lips so tenderly with his own that Elizabeth shivered before he had barely touched her. As the tension of the last several hours drained away, he began to relax with her, deepening his kisses until he felt her body responding to his touch. It was not what he had planned after such an emotionally draining afternoon, especially when he was still uncertain of whether or not the doctor had imposed any limitations upon her. Reluctantly, Darcy pulled away and shifted his position so he could recline beside her on the bed. He removed his boots and covered them both with the counterpane. Elizabeth snuggled against him as he enfolded her in his arms, placing several kisses in her hair as he diligently proceeded to remove each pin. They lay quietly together for a long time, so long that both had begun to wonder whether the other had succumbed to slumber, but then Elizabeth heard Darcy ask, “Elizabeth, am I truly to become a father?”