Christmas at Pemberley (28 page)

As Elizabeth looked on, the child's fingers wrapped around Mr. Joseph's pinky. Despite her happiness, she swayed in place, emotions
overwhelming her. Immediately, Darcy was behind her. His comforting embrace encircled her, and Elizabeth allowed her husband to gently pull her against him. Darcy kissed the side of her neck. “If I've not told you recently,” he whispered close to her ear, “let me say how utterly amazing I find you.”

Elizabeth turned in his arms and collapsed against him, the adrenaline draining from her composure. Darcy held her tightly. “I'm frightened,” she murmured into his shoulder.

Darcy chuckled. “At least, you overcame the fear until the Josephs had their son.”

Elizabeth raised her chin to stare into his countenance. It was the face that she most trusted—the face of one who would never judge her—of one who accepted her foibles. “I did it,” she said in a gush of air. “Can you believe it, Fitzwilliam?”

“I always believed it,” he whispered. Darcy caressed her chin. “If anyone could save Mrs. Joseph's life, it would be you.” Her husband glanced over her shoulder at where the Josephs still cuddled their child. “Let us step away and give Mr. and Mrs. Joseph a moment alone with their son.”

Elizabeth's first instinct was to return to the woman, but seeing the Madonna-like look upon Mary's face stilled her. She nodded and permitted Darcy to lead her to the other side of the room. They sequestered themselves behind the screen, and Darcy brought his wife into his arms. For Elizabeth, the exquisite feel of his strength bolstered her own. Instinctively, she raised her chin and accepted Darcy's kiss. Gentle and loving, her husband's embrace spoke of his devotion. “I love you,” she said as he released her mouth.

“And I you,” he said softly.They continued to speak in whispers. He cupped her chin in his palm and slid his hand down her slender neck. “How did you know I waited outside the door?” He smiled lovingly at her.

Elizabeth shrugged nonchalantly. “You're not the type to spend your time drinking away the hours. Nor are you of the nature to desert a person for whom you care,” she declared. Elizabeth traced
his mouth with her fingertips. “And I'm vain enough to believe I claim your affections.”

“Not vanity, my love.” Darcy kissed her fingertips.

Elizabeth smiled easily. “I knew you'd be near if I needed you.” She went on her tiptoes to brush his lips with hers. “How did you know what to do to start the baby's breathing? When I attended Jane, the midwife rubbed the twins' backs.”

“Do you not recall that Georgiana came early?”

“Now, I do, but I don't understand the significance. Surely, no one permitted you access to the birthing room.”

“Although I wasn't there, my parents often reminisced over Georgiana's worldly entrance. Despite warnings from the previous Countess about his inappropriate actions, my father insisted on being with Mother. The midwife threatened to do away with him.” This story was a pleasant memory for her husband, and Elizabeth delighted in his relaxed countenance.

“With Georgiana's early entrance, they were all caught unawares. My sister's delivery was reputedly a speedy one. Small and lithe as she is, Georgiana's only complication was her resistance to taking her first breath. The midwife pronounced her dead, but father would hear none of it. He willed Georgiana to life. He rubbed her chest and, literally, blew into her mouth and nose—saying later that her first breath smelled of the brandy he had downed to shore up his nerves.”

“Amazing,” Elizabeth said.

“Anyway, I've heard the tale over and over. Georgiana loved to hear Father tell it, and he embellished the fact to his daughter's delight; but, when I took Joseph's child in my hands, I did what my father had done. It seemed the most prudent action.”

“God works in the oddest ways,” Elizabeth declared. “If not for my ready acquaintance with Mrs. Joseph, she'd have been on her knees giving birth in a stable. If not for your family history, the Josephs' son might have followed the way of so many children born too early.”

Darcy caught her hand and brought it to rest over his heart. “I cannot conceive of another angel as beautiful as you, my love.”

“Would you see to the boy while I help Mrs. Joseph? She has yet to pass the birth.” It was not a conversation women normally had with men, but somehow for Elizabeth, it seemed right. When she delivered their child, Darcy would be by her side. As his father had attended Lady Anne, Darcy would attend her. She had no doubt of that fact. Unlike other men who waited downstairs, smoking cigars and drinking toasts, Darcy would be her partner, and if their child suffered, it was his able hands she wanted caressing the baby.

“As you wish. I'll wait here.” Elizabeth nodded and started away, but Darcy caught her arm. “What of the cord?” he whispered.

Elizabeth patted his hand. It was reassuring to know that even her confident husband held the occasional doubt. “The blood has likely drained from the opening. Cut it again to three to four inches in length. Leave the tie in place. It will dry up and fall away in a few days. This is normal.”

“And the part attached to the mother?” he asked with curious embarrassment.

“Mrs. Joseph's body shall expel what remains of the child's sack within the next hour, and then she can begin to heal.”

Elizabeth watched as he puzzled over what she had said. “Really? I never knew. This is not part of a university education,” he mused.

“Neither is it conversation unmarried women share.” Her eyes danced in amusement. “I'm sure none would consider marriage such a delightful solution if she possessed knowledge of childbirth's physical pain.”

Darcy's eyebrow rose in question. “I imagine it might make it more difficult to convince some women,” he taunted. “Luckily, you're not of the nature to refuse a man's suit nor to shrug away a challenge.”

“Of course, not, Mr. Darcy.” She offered a soft smirk. “I'm of the most amiable nature.”

“And I'm blessed for it. Blessed indeed.”

Anne looked up as Southland entered the room. She had heard the rumors. The servants knew everything. Her companion and her cousin had each spoken to the lieutenant about their brief encounter yesterday. Anne didn't know the content of those conversations, but she suspected that her loved ones had warned the lieutenant from her. Men of lesser connections had been sent packing, and she knew the procedure. Unfortunately, her few suitors had abandoned her early on. Now, at the age of seven and twenty, she was quite clearly on the shelf. But Anne had resolved that if Southland showed any interest, she would seize the opportunity.

“Lieutenant,” she smiled brightly. “It's delightful to have your company. Come and join me for tea.”

The man bowed and came forward. “Thank you, Miss De Bourgh.” He glanced about the room. “Should I send for a maid or your companion?”

Anne narrowed her eyes. “That won't be necessary, Lieutenant. I'd hate to worry Mrs. Jenkinson.The weather has taken her energy. Besides, the door remains open.”

“If you're certain, Miss De Bourgh.” He seated himself across from her, but he remained uncomfortable.

Anne spoke with the barest bit of irony in her tone. “I'm far from being a green girl, Lieutenant. I may converse with a gentleman without causing a scandal.” She took a closer look at the man: Broad shoulders. Muscular chest. Several inches shorter than her cousin—an important fact for a woman of her height. Slim hips and firm thighs. Strong chin. Nose a bit too large. Dark lashes. Hairline high on his forehead. Dark hair with flecks of gold from sun exposure. Not handsome, but a most captivating countenance. An infectious, cheeky grin. Anne forced herself to smile as she handed him the teacup.

The lieutenant blinked quickly. “I never meant an offense, Miss De Bourgh. I recognize you're a lady of quality. I'd want no mark on your reputation.”

“No offense taken, Lieutenant, but a reputation requires a certain amount of popular favor and influence.Admittedly, my family's good name gives me an unearned distinction; yet, we both are aware of my insignificance. Please, Sir. I don't wish to speak crudely, but I'd ask for honesty between us.” Anne felt her lower lip tremble and her eyes mist with tears, but she continued on. It had been more than five years since any man had sought her company and more than eight since a man had proclaimed his affection for her. If by any chance the lieutenant found her interesting, Anne wouldn't shun his attentions, but she would instead embrace them on her terms. Her mother had sequestered her away, so the lieutenant was likely her last prospect. “I'd like to have your acquaintance, Sir. Is that what you wish also?” Having said the words she had practiced all morning, Anne immediately dropped her eyes. The effort to be bold had taken its toll on her. Her hands shook, and greyness crowded her vision. She fought for a calming breath.

“Miss De Bourgh?” The lieutenant's voice expressed his concern. When she did not look at him, the man was on his knees before her. Gently, he took the cup and saucer from her grasp. “Let me assist you,” he said softly. “Please, Miss De Bourgh.” Urgency laced his words as he caught her hand in his. “If my presence upsets you, I'll make my departure, but I'd see you well first.”

Anne gulped for air. “I…I don't want you to depart.”

His large hands held hers tightly. The gentleman leaned in and whispered in her ear. “I would remain if that's your wish.”

Slowly, she made herself look at him. His closeness warmed her in ways she'd never experienced. “Then I wasn't mistaken.You wish my acquaintance?”

Southland's lips twitched. “I suspect either the colonel or your companion has spoken of their objections.”

“Neither,” she said quickly.

Disbelief shaped his lips. “I'd have difficulty believing that no one has warned you from me. I've no title, and I'm likely never to earn one.”

“No, truly,” she protested. “I overheard the servants speak of your heated discussion with my cousin.” Their faces were but inches apart, and Anne's breath caught in her throat. The fact that his also hitched gave her encouragement.

Southland chuckled. “I'd forgotten the efficiency of the English serving class. It seems my approaching you yesterday has brought some notice.”

“May I ask a question, Lieutenant?” she asked impulsively.

“Certainly, Miss De Bourgh.”

“Why have you sought me out? Why me? Why now?” Anne took calming breaths to steady her nerves.

Southland released her hand and returned to his chair. “It's a complicated issue, and I'm not certain I can explain it. I've always desired the connection to your family—but not for the renown or the wealth. My cousin repeatedly extolled Sir Lewis's merits, and I've found the same excellence in the colonel's side of the family.”

Anne frowned. “Would you expect excellence on my part?” The thought of her obvious deficiencies frightened her.

“Again, that's not exactly what I meant, Miss De Bourgh. My words may make you believe that I'm a bounder who seeks the connection, but it's much deeper than that.” He paused. “As strange as it sounds,” he said with a deep sigh, “it's been my belief since my childhood that I'd some day call Rosings Park home.”

Anne counted to ten in her head and reversed the numbers before she answered. “Many might think yours a case for Bedlam, Lieutenant.”

He smiled easily. “I suppose they would.” Again, he paused briefly. “My only concern is whether you find my words crazy.”

Her eyebrow rose in curiosity. “I'll have to consider the rationality of such a remark. Or the lack thereof.” But Anne actually smiled at him. “When I asked for honesty…”

“You didn't expect what I offered,” he finished her thought. Taking a deep breath of resignation, the lieutenant stood to make
his departure. “Thank you, Miss De Bourgh, for sharing your tea and your caution. I'll take my leave.” He bowed stiffly.

“Lieutenant.” Ann made her decision without considering the consequences. “I'd thought to explore Mr. Darcy's library. I wonder if you might also be in need of a book?” She stood and straightened her dress's seams. “If so, we might discuss our favorites.” Her heart pounded like that of a racehorse.

Southland let out relief 's sigh. “Or the weather.”

Anne glanced toward the lace-draped windows. “Oh, the weather is abominable. Could we not seek another more pleasant subject?”

“Absolutely, Miss De Bourgh. I'm your captive audience.” Southland extended his arm, and Anne slid her hand into his elbow's crook. His muscles flexed, and she felt the anticipation of a new adventure.