Read Longbourn to London Online
Authors: Linda Beutler
Longbourn to London (44 page)
Given the timing of future events, Elizabeth believed they owed the conception of their first child to Caroline Bingley, the inviting fire in the Matlock House sitting room, and a revealing ball gown.
***
On July 21, 1813, Fitzwilliam Darcy awoke happily agitated. It was the first year anniversary of what he now termed “the Pemberley Miracle,” the day he and Elizabeth had surprised each other—he by returning to Pemberley a day earlier than stated, and she by being there at all.
In the earliest months of their marriage, Elizabeth nearly always awoke before her husband and nearly always sought to be comforted by him—using her own definition of that charming word— as he roused. Now, Elizabeth consistently awoke later to find Darcy observing her, and if the bedclothes were disarranged, ogling her. So it was on this morning.
Darcy smiled gently upon his sleeping wife, lit by the morning sun streaming through the sheer summer curtains. It was proving to be an uncommonly hot summer for Derbyshire, and Darcy opened the glass doors onto their private terrace, surprised by how warm the air was already.
This makes it more likely that she will join me in the pond after we replicate meeting as we did last year.
He stepped back inside to await the opening of his wife’s expressive eyes.
He was determined to be deliriously happy all day.
Elizabeth, lying on her side, opened her eyes and smiled. “You are a smug and silly man.” She often remarked thusly to him upon waking. The role of a teasing wife was one she took very seriously.
Darcy had never lived with an expectant wife, and he was learning the signs, such as Elizabeth sleeping late. She quite inexplicably developed an aversion to her beloved strawberry jam, which the denizens of the Pemberley kitchens did manage to faithfully reproduce in the Longbourn manner. She suddenly preferred instead the tart bitter-orange marmalade made from citrus grown in the Pemberley orangery. Elizabeth’s nausea had been mild. She now entered that period of time when some expectant ladies feel quite fit and become exceptionally randy.
Darcy knelt at the edge of the bed and took her hands in his. “You see me more than a little silly just now. Happy Anniversary, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.” He kissed her hands.
“Will you come back to bed, Fitzwilliam?” She lifted aside the bedclothes to reveal both her body with its fecund belly, and the tattered remains of yet another thin white silk nightgown. She pulled it to her, covering only the patch of dark hair between her legs, and gave Darcy a ripe look.
“Miss Bennet!” Darcy leaned away. “Have you no sense of occasion? Would you have behaved so a year ago?”
“You may assume you are affecting a shocked expression, sir, but in fact you look more than usually desirable.” She held his gaze as she parted her legs. Her eyes grew more serious. “Let us join together, on today of all days.”
“Miss Bennet! You are too wanton. Later. Later, I promise.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Fitzwilliam, this is too silly, given the evidence before you, sir.”
“Miss Bennet…” Darcy smiled, took a deep breath, and stepped further away.
“You have become a teasing sort of man, Fitzwilliam Darcy.” She threw the nightgown at him with a laugh.
“I am keeping this one. ‘The nightgown she lobbed at me on our first anniversary.’ I have a little chest of such unusual treasures.”
Elizabeth pulled a sheet over herself.
He must have plans for later that require we wait…dear man. I shall play along.
“May we at least take our breakfast together?”
“Certainly. I shall ring that we are ready, and I shall dress.”
“You have plans?”
“Indeed I do. I mean to go riding, and at eleven o’clock, I shall make a cooling dive into the little spring-fed pond, and at half past eleven, if you would meet me on the west sloping lawn?”
“Am I to wear sprigged muslin and my brown spencer and bonnet?”
“How did you know?”
“You are not the only one with a sentimental attachment to the day.”
Darcy beamed. “I
am
pleased. I was beginning to worry for your memory, Elizabeth.”
She smiled fondly. “Dear man…you know those clothes will no longer serve me, at least until next summer unless you prove so potent that the remainder of my summers will see me in this same condition.”
Darcy bent and nuzzled her temple. “Wear what you will, Lizzy, but meet me on time. We shall go for a swim.”
When the breakfast tray arrived, there was a green velvet box at the centre, on its own little plate. Darcy peeked at Elizabeth through the crack of the door hinge between their bedchamber and the mistress’s room, where they often ate when wanting to be truly left alone. He saw her pleased blush, and she picked up the box and looked around for him.
“Fitzwilliam? Darling?” she called lightly.
He stepped into the room, dressed for riding on a warm day. Elizabeth had put on the Grecian dressing gown. It was the coolest garment she owned. She felt the hot summer during her pregnancy was a punishment for some sin she had committed; she knew not which one.
“Miss Bennet?”
“Is this for me?”
“Yes, Miss Elizabeth, open it.”
Inside the box was the diamond ring surrounded by emeralds that Darcy had altered to his specifications in London He intended for her to wear it on the hand opposite her emerald and leaf ring.
She looked into his eyes. “How lovely this will be with my betrothal ring. But it comes with no proposal?”
Darcy attempted exasperation. “How many times must I propose?”
“I have yet to decide, so you must keep at it.”
Darcy leaned into her ear, his hands untying her dressing gown, and he pulled her against him with hands hot against her skin. “How is this proposal? Miss Bennet, I adore you passionately. I spend my days thinking of ways to touch you and taste you that will give you pleasure. I seek your happiness so that when I wish to join with you, you will always accept me. Tell me, Miss Bennet, are you willing to become my wife? I promise to maintain you in grand style.” He kissed her neck.
“I am sorry to tell you, sir, I have taken a lover. He is tall with soft dark hair and devastating brown eyes, and
very
well hung.” She chuckled and touched him where she could best emphasise her meaning.
“Nonsense. You have loved me since the moment you saw me.”
Elizabeth laughed with delight. “Your arrogance is astonishing. You seek to lure me from him with this ring?”
“With the ring and whatever else may be needed.” He paused, smiling sheepishly. “’Devastating brown eyes’? You think so?”
She huffed. “Vanity is
still
a sin, as I must so often remind you.” She felt Darcy’s erection through his breeches and started to unbutton them. “No,” he panted. “We must wait, Lizzy.” He stepped back.
“You have no one to blame but yourself that I have come to be such a demanding wife.”
He nodded with a self-contented smile. “You have yet to become insufferable.”
“Go ride your horse then, and stop pestering me.” She shrugged vigorously, and her dressing gown fell to the floor.
Darcy slowly reached out to her with one hand. His fingers caressed her breast, and slid to her belly. He patted her there. “What a good wife I have,” he dimpled.
He turned and exited the room like a man fleeing demons. He heard her laughter and her slipper hitting the door just as he closed it. Her aim was deadly, but fortunately, she threw only shoes or other items of clothing at him—nothing breakable—and only when he was teasing her.
Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth Darcy were happy.
***
A year earlier, Mrs. Reynolds, about some task at the time, had chanced to look out a window to see her master’s unexpected approach. She watched as the young woman who had been touring the house wandered into view and saw the shocked posture of both as they greeted each other. When Mr. Darcy walked away from the guest, he grinned in such a way that she had never seen on his adult face. Mrs. Reynolds knew instantly he was in love with this self-possessed and unassuming young woman.
Mrs. Reynolds positioned herself in a chair near the same window, watching. What a difference a year made. Mr. Darcy, again wet to the skin in a linen shirt and riding britches, appeared from the shrubbery. Elizabeth, in a capacious new gown meant to see her through her confinement, approached, but lost her footing on the slopping lawn. Mrs. Reynolds stood, instantly fearful her mistress would fall while with child, but she underestimated Elizabeth’s balance and agility. With a controlled fling of her arms, Elizabeth righted herself and remained on her feet, although moving forward at rather a higher velocity than she intended, sliding into Mr. Darcy’s embrace. He seemed delighted. Mrs. Reynolds smiled and returned to her work.
THEIR FUTURES
Jane Bingley bore to Charles Bingley eight children, all but the last, Elizabeth called “Betsey,” were boys. Jane was six months gone with child when she and Bingley arrived at Pemberley on July 22, 1813. Within moments of their arrival, the Bingleys urged Darcy to assist in finding them an estate in Derbyshire. That night, Elizabeth found a sixpence on her dressing table as she prepared for bed. When the Bingleys were settled in an estate some fifteen miles from Pemberley, Darcy and Elizabeth confessed to each other a sadness to have never sampled the comfort of the bed in the room Darcy had inhabited when he stayed at Netherfield from late September through November of 1811, and again before their wedding a year later.
Mr. Thomas Bennet outlived his nervous, frivolous, and later, constantly hysterical, wife by more than ten years. Mr. William Collins did not live so long a life, obesity cutting short his expectancy of inheriting Longbourn. Charlotte bore him only one child. That son, Thomas Collins, was due to inherit Longbourn, and since none of the Bennet daughters were still at home when Mr. Collins and then Mrs. Bennet had died, it was Charlotte who nursed Mr. Thomas Bennet through his final month, aided by Thomas Collins’s young wife—with Elizabeth and Jane arriving for the last week. But the elderly gentleman had enjoyed good health until his final weeks, and mental acuity to the last breath.
Mr. Thomas Collins had been urged from a young age to go into the clergy as had his father. He was a sensible young man, more like his mother in temper, but surprisingly better favoured than either of his parents—for which everyone excepting one elevated personage was exceedingly grateful—and the boy loathed Lady Catherine de Bourgh, striking up an aversion to her almost from infancy. He was heartily glad to leave Hunsford and reside, as the heir of Longbourn, with his mother after his education was complete. Thomas Collins fell violently in love with the young Betsey Bingley when she came to visit her grandfather. Betsey and Thomas were the parents of five sons, which was the source of great amusement to Betsey’s mother and her Aunt Darcy; her doting grandfather lived to see the first two sons born: twins. “Exclamation points!” cried the old man, when he was told the news.
Georgiana determined to act as her brother had done; she would only marry for love. Thus, she married much later in life, at age thirty-three, to a man eleven years her junior, one Benedict Gardiner. Yes,
those
Gardiners.
Elizabeth Darcy bore to Fitzwilliam Darcy seven children, a boy first—Charles Bennet Darcy. Mrs. Bennet attended none of the births, some other daughter always having a more prevailing need, though Mr. Bennet visited both Pemberley and Darcy House at will and often unexpectedly.
Darcy and Elizabeth agreed at the time of her second confinement that they would be ever vigilant of each other to avoid exhibiting favouritism amongst their children, but in truth, their eldest was slightly foremost in their hearts. They never did conceive a child on July 21, but not for lack of trying. A few years into their marriage, Elizabeth and Darcy forgot to celebrate their actual wedding anniversary, and July 21, 1812 became the de facto day from which they counted the beginning of their happiness together.
Table of Contents