A Baby for Mr. Darcy Page 5

  Her sole reaction was a brief nod of the head. Then she turned back towards the window before resting her head against where the baby nestled into her neck, rubbing his back gently.

  She had been quiet long enough that his mind had moved to other concerns. Thus, he was surprised to hear her voice.

  “My mother took to her bed, out of desire rather than necessity, after each child. Where I do not remember the birth of Mary or Kitty, Lydia made her presence known with vigor. As Mama rested, Jane and I assisted the nurse as we were able. We soon found that being sung to or read to offered no consolation to Lydia. She demanded to be rocked or held in our arms as we paced the nursery floor.” A small grin graced Elizabeth’s mouth. “When Jane and I were older and were invited into the drawing room during visiting hours, we heard tale after tale of the trials of giving birth from the neighborhood ladies. After the first of the many lurid conversations we were subjected to, my sister and I decided to never marry and risk having such a torturous event occur to ourselves. We made a written pact that we both signed as a promise.”

  Darcy longed to chuckle but had no idea if it would be properly received. He nodded instead. “How old were you at the time?”

  “I was in my fifteenth year and Jane was but seventeen. I do believe we would have been scarred for life had not my wise Aunt Gardiner, with one question, caused us to revisit the pact.”

  He could not contain his curiosity. “What did she ask?”

  Putting her hand over Jem’s blanket-covered ear so her mirth left him undisturbed, Elizabeth pulled him closer, his little puffs of breath tickling her neck. “She asked us why genteel women of sense had more than one child if the pain and suffering was so unendurable. Since our own mother delivered five healthy babies and still desired another in hopes of birthing a son, we laughed at our own foolishness. At least we did, until our aunt explained the purpose of the women of the neighborhood. It was to scare the young unattached ladies to be cautious with their favors. It was a lesson Jane and I learned well.”

  “Your experience with a baby is evident.” He could think of nothing more to add to the unusual topic they had canvassed.

  The heat of embarrassment shot up from Elizabeth’s chest to pool in her cheeks. She had discussed childbirth with a man who confused her a great deal—one she would have insisted would never step one inch outside of what was deemed proper conversation. Yet, he appeared untroubled from the discussion. She did not know if she would ever recover.

  “Our next stop will be the last one for the day. Rather than stay at my usual inn, I have chosen to bypass the establishment for one more isolated. Pray be assured that they are not rustic. They are used to serving those of elevated rank.”

  She shook her head. What? Certainly, the thought of introductions to strangers who were cut from the same cloth as Mr. Darcy being forced upon her was unappealing. It was not that portion of his speech that left her unsettled.

  The final stop of the day meant they would be spending the night—their wedding night in the same building, possibly the same room.

  Elizabeth’s insides jittered and clenched at the idea of Mr. Darcy choosing to exercise his conjugal rights as soon as night fell. The term, conjugal rights, left much to be desired by an unwilling new wife. During those drawing room discussions by the matrons of Meryton she had heard the horrid comments from some who despised both their husband and the brutality of the act itself. Would Mr. Darcy be like those men? Would he uncaringly force himself upon a lady?

  His tenderness with the baby, his comments about his attention to his young sister, and his responsible focus on duty reduced Elizabeth’s fear, somewhat.

  She was physically exhausted, worn out from long hours of travel in addition to staying late at Mr. Bingley’s ball the evening before. Her clothes were stained from Jem spitting up on her after a particularly hard jolt when the carriage hit a hole in the road. And her emotions were ragged and raw. So many unanswered questions haunted her that she suspected years would pass before she could find peace.

  Behind it all was the man who was now her husband. Worries about the night came crashing back upon her. What would she do? How would she react should he come to her once they were settled at this strange inn?

  Gulping, realizing again that she had a distinct lack of power in the arrangement, Elizabeth decided to stop worrying about what might happen as it might not happen at all. Or, the better course might be...

  “Mr. Darcy,” she swallowed before continuing. The churning in her gut was threatening to make its presence known in the most disgusting manner. Deciding not knowing was the worse evil, she barged ahead. “While I appreciate your caution in the arrangements you have made, I wonder at your intentions once we are settled in the rooms.”

  “My intentions?” Darcy’s face turned a lovely red hue. “Do you fear me?”

  “I do...not,” was her immediate reply. “Or, perhaps the more honest truth is that I fear what I do not know. For example, I do not know why my father agreed to your offer within moments of rejecting his heir, Mr. Collins, who proposed the same. I do not know why you chose me rather than someone from your social sphere. I do not know why you acted the arrogant, prideful beast for the past two months. I do not know if and when this kindlier gentleman I have glimpsed today will remain or disappear at the slightest confrontation. I do not know your expectations for me other than to be a good mother for your cousin’s son. I do not know what you expect from me as a wife. I also do not know exactly what happens between a man and woman on their wedding night. These things, this lack of understanding, is fearsome indeed. While I do not fear your person, I fear your intent.”

  He nodded. “Pray, be assured that my immediate hopes are for nothing more than that we all receive a decent night’s rest before we are back on the road tomorrow. Therefore, I have engaged separate rooms for each of us. I promise you that the only male who will disturb your sleep is Jem.”

  Relief flooded her, making the churning vanish as quickly as it had hit her.

  “In addition, despite making good time today, we have several more days of travel where we will have the privacy to discuss the rest of your concerns.” He breathed deeply. “Since you have been exceedingly honest with the matters that concerned you, I pray you give attention to mine.”

  Dusting off non-existent lint from his traveling cloak, he crossed his legs and draped his forearms on his thighs, the posture of one at ease, completely unconcerned about the topic. However, looks were deceiving, for his eyes shown brilliantly in the dusk. His hands were fisted until his gloves stretched tightly over his knuckles.

  “My expectations of my wedding night were quite different from the reality we face, Elizabeth. From my reaction this morning in learning of your intense dislike of me, you must know this information left me flummoxed. When added to my quick trip to London, Richard’s letter and demands, and my immediate return to Hertfordshire, I am physically and mentally exhausted. My ability to make reasonable decisions, taking into account all of the variables I have been faced with this day, has rendered me less than capable of facing confrontation with equability. Simply put, I am too tired to argue, fight, or engage in the sort of activities you suspect me of desiring. Had we a different sort of circumstances, had you come to me with the respect and admiration I had assumed you held for me, then we would be holding a much different conversation. The comfort we could have achieved by drawing close together would have bound us as true partners in facing whatever the future holds with young Jem. As it is, my desire for solitude is more than my desire for you.”

  Ouch! Even though she yearned to hear that he would be leaving her alone, his meaning hurt. Nevertheless, the things she had said to him that morning after their wedding had to have caused him pain.

  Would they ever find their way to peace? At Longbourn chapel, she had vowed before God and her parents to keep with him for her lifetime. He had vowed the same. There was absolutely no going back to Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn
in Hertfordshire. She was, and would forever be, Mrs. Darcy.

  Chapter 6

  Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam reacted to the tasks at hand with a thoroughness borne of years of training. Setting aside his severed emotions, he oversaw the loading of the ship, commanded the attention of his regiment, and undertook every minute arrangement until the vessel was ready to cast off for the continent. It was not until they had navigated the Thames to the open sea that he stood alone at the stern staring back towards England.

  The soldier in him pondered if he would ever see his motherland again. War was cruel and cared not for his position as second son of an earl. Although his stature remained erect, the man inside him crumpled as agony of the worst sort tore at his chest until dampness he could not blame on the salt air covered his cheeks. Annie and little Jem! Death on the battlefield would be a relief from the pain from which he would never recover at the loss of them.

  “Colonel, sir,” Major Milford, snapped to attention behind him.

  The major also felt loss. The Milford’s newborn had been the first child in their almost ten-year marriage. Richard felt no comfort in shared pain. Inhaling deeply, he replied without facing the man.

  “What is it, Major?”

  “Many of the men are feeling the churning of the sea. You are about to have company.”

  Richard Fitzwilliam stepped back from the railing. His time of mourning was over. Duty called.

  Hugh Fitzwilliam flung the empty crystal glass to the stone floor. He cared not that some of the shards and remaining drops of brandy dotted the top of his shoes. He cared not that the staff would have a mess of his making to clean up. They were paid well for their services. He cared not that his sister had abandoned him to return to Kent. All that was on Lord Matlock’s mind was the departure of his youngest son for Spain.

  Catherine’s suggestion of having Richard commit adultery with Henry’s wife had disgusted the earl. At the same time, should he have impregnated Lady Olivia with a son, Richard’s going to battle would have been less of a strain on Hugh Fitzwilliam.

  As usual, this mess of having no heir to nurture for the future would be left up to him to fix. Deciding his course, Hugh sent a note to Darcy House. The reply was quickly returned.

  My Lord Matlock,

  Mr. Darcy has been with Mr. Bingley in Hertfordshire until yesterday when he removed to Pemberley to winter with Miss Darcy. If the weather permits, he would be arriving in Derbyshire before the week ends. The staff does not expect him to return to London until the spring planting is finished.

  Respectfully,

  Mr. Dobbs, butler to Mr. Darcy and Darcy House

  Blast Fitzwilliam Darcy! Darcy choosing to assist that fool Bingley was another example of why his nephew and any of his heirs would not properly toe the mark as the future Earl of Matlock. Associating with trade! Disgusting! Darcy was too much like his father had been. Neither father nor son appreciated the value of being titled, the power available to a family with connections to the throne.

  Lord Matlock glanced around for another glass to smash. They had been his wife’s favorite set.

  Blast his long-dead wife! Blast his sister and her strong opinions! Blast his two sons for not having boys of their own! Blast Anne for dying! And, blast Darcy for having a spine of iron set against the Fitzwilliam family’s purposes.

  The four days following their marriage were spent putting the needs of the baby ahead of their own. Travel was slow. The constant movement kept little Jem’s stomach unsettled. With the baby’s rest interrupted, the ladies did not rest either. They were exhausted.

  Realizing the best arrangement was to have Mrs. Milford and the maid with Elizabeth so they had each other for constant support, Darcy rode with his valet in the smaller carriage.

  Where the women attended the babe each hour of the day and night, the change of transport allowed Darcy to catch up on his sleep as well as think deeply on the circumstances in which they found themselves.

  Constant was his worry over Richard. And the baby. And the state of his marriage. It was on the fifth and final day of travel that a plan began to occur to him how to hide James Alexander in plain sight. Within a short period of time his idea unfolded with crystal clarity. By the time they made their last travel stop before Pemberley, Darcy was anxious to share his idea with Elizabeth and Mrs. Milford.

  He was an idiot!

  As he approached the carriage containing Elizabeth, the noise and smell that greeted him was revolting. The maid had quickly vacated the transport with a heaped basket of highly scented cloths overflowing the brim. Mrs. Milford was next. Her bonnet was askew, her face was mottled shades of red and white, and her traveling coat had damp patches down the front. Gulping in a breath of fresh air, she hurried into the inn.

  Braving the odor, Darcy peeked inside.

  Tears streaked down his wife’s cheeks as she held his nephew to her chest. What had been a wail from Jem had turned to a whimper. The whimper changed to a series of fretful breaths before he closed his eyes and was silent, his little body limp, his breathing calm.

  She appeared to have fought the Devil. Her bonnet was on the floor, her hair had pulled itself from the bun she customarily wore during their travels, and her dress was as poorly kept as Mrs. Milford’s had been.

  While he had been relaxing with Parker in relative silence and no troubles, the women and baby had endured tribulation. Darcy felt awful. And selfish. What sort of care was he showing those who were his primary responsibility on this trip? Richard would be justified in drawing his sword and running Darcy through.

  “Might I assist you from the carriage?” Darcy held out his gloved hand, assuming she would gladly want fresh air.

  “Shh!” she whispered. “Pray, ask the driver to remain still until our rooms are engaged.”

  “Rooms?” They were an hour from Lambton, the small village less than five miles from home. He had no intention of spending another night in an inn when his own bed was calling for him. However, on closer inspection, he changed his mind.

  Her eyes had dark shadows underneath. There was a pinched quality to her lips. Her cheeks were pale. She was completely exhausted. He suspected the two other ladies were as well.

  “I will see to the arrangements myself.”

  At her nod, he directed the footman to close the door and keep as quiet as possible. Within moments, he had rooms arranged for the whole party. In addition, the two eldest daughters of the innkeeper had been retained to provide hot food and baths for Mrs. Milford and Elizabeth in their chambers. Soiled clothing would be gathered, and the laundry done. The innkeeper’s wife herself would watch Jem in Mrs. Milford’s room so she and Elizabeth could rest for the night with no interruption.

  An hour later, a soft tap sounded on the door between his chambers and Elizabeth’s. Since their marriage, the door between the two rooms at each inn had remained firmly shut. Darcy was stunned to see his wife, although he knew it could have been no one other than her seeking his company.

  Flipping her damp braid behind her, she approached the fire, reaching out her hands to warm them. Elizabeth was dressed for bed, her robe and gown pulled tightly around her. She was weariness personified. It was a sight he was unlikely to forget for years to come.

  “Mr. Darcy, we need to discuss what we are to tell Miss Darcy, the staff, and your neighbors as to how and why we have a baby and Abigail with us at Pemberley.”

  “I quite agree.” Darcy took it upon himself to pour her a cup of tea. She thanked him, then set the saucer on a side table without taking a drink. “I have a plan which I believe will work without too much prevarication, which is my preference.”

  “As do I,” she admitted without hesitation, despite running her hand over her forehead, pressing her fingers into her temple.

  “Elizabeth, might we speak of this in the morning? You are tired.”

  “I am.” Moving to the sofa, she took a seat at one end, leaning heavily against the arm. “Nonetheless, much is ridin
g on having a story that is reasonable, as close to the truth as possible, and acceptable by every member of the Fitzwilliam family.” She sighed heavily.

  “Sir, rumor has a way of beginning and growing from my mother and younger sisters. Within hours of our marriage, I suspect reports of your being in Meryton with an unknown lovely mother and infant made its way back to Longbourn. In addition, Mr. Bingley had to be shocked to hear you married the second daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, the same female you shunned at the assembly and argued with in his house. I can only imagine the tales his sisters have formed to justify your attaching yourself to me. Compromise would be the least offensive, no doubt.” She lifted the cup and sipped the liquid. “With his attentions toward Jane, I suspect he has spent time in Longbourn’s drawing room speculating as to the events after his ball. In addition, should Lord Matlock instigate an investigation of your circumstances of the past week, out of idle curiosity or some other motive, we need to have a plan of action in place to protect Jem.”

  He nodded, impressed with her concerns. They had been his as well.

  “Elizabeth, we are in complete agreement.” He sat beside her. He yearned to take her hand in his. To give her fingers a gentle squeeze. To instill strength into her weary frame. He doubted she would accept his caress, so he let his desires wither to nothing. “I would like to hear your idea. We could compare them to see what would be most reasonable, do you agree?”

  When she nodded, she closed her eyes, resting those long lashes upon her cheekbones. She blinked quickly before her eyelids drooped until they closed for a brief moment longer. By the third blink, they closed and failed to reopen.

  Her head dropped to rest on the arm of the sofa. Her feet curled up on the seat. Her breathing slowed to a soft rhythm. Within a matter of a minute or less, Elizabeth was sound asleep.