Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy

  He sat beside her, then stretched out on the ground, his hands behind his head. "Do you think often about that possibility?"

  She smiled at the obvious care he took in choosing his words. "To be quite honest, I have not thought about it as much as I would have expected, having been preoccupied with other matters. But I was excited to tell you about it. I thought you would be pleased."

  "Not that again!"

  "What is wrong with wishing to please you? Do you not wish to please me?"

  "Yes, I suppose. But I have been concerned because you seemed so indifferent to the possibility. I feared you might resent it."

  Elizabeth felt a wave of guilt at his perspicacity. She plucked a stem of grass and folded it between her fingers. "Perhaps a little at first but not now."

  She could see her reply had disappointed him. "What changed your mind?"

  Uncomfortably she said, "It was a shock initially."

  In a fluid movement he sat up and at the same time pressed her backwards so that he leaned over her, propped up on his elbow. "For the rest of our lives, Elizabeth, it is going to worry me when I feel that you are avoiding telling me something."

  She gazed into his dark eyes, seeing the concern there. She turned her head to the side with a sigh. "This is difficult to speak of."

  He did not move or say anything, just entwined his fingers with hers.

  He had told her the truth of his despair, and she was honoured that he had trusted her with it. She owed him her truth as well, although she feared it might hurt him. She would simply have to reassure him to the best of her ability. "Very well, if you must know, I was distraught at the time, not from the realisation I might be with child but before that. I misunderstood why you went to London, thinking you did it to avoid my company. I did not wish to live. The baby meant I had no choice but to go on living. Now I see it differently, but, then, it was hard."

  A look of horrified comprehension came over his face. "I will never forgive myself."

  She placed her hands on each side of his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Do not blame yourself. It was a failure of understanding, nothing more. When I look back on it, I can see you must have thought it clear why you were leaving."

  "I was sure you knew I was going to find your sister. And I still cannot comprehend why you thought I no longer loved you. It is not something I could change."

  "I had given you reason to hate me, and you were so distant."

  He shook his head. "Distant? I knew how much you disliked me. I thought to spare you the burden of my company, at least as much as possible in civility."

  Impulsively, she reached up to kiss him. "And I wished only for the opportunity to show you I regretted my errors."

  "We have been at such cross-purposes, my love, and I have caused you so much pain. I do not know how you can forgive me."

  "I have been your equal in misunderstandings. But while I would not deny that I have been unhappy, if I had not learnt what it meant to lose you, I would not have realised what you meant to me. Or at least to think I had lost you. I still cannot understand how you can forgive me for the things I said to you."

  "How could I not, given all the mistakes I have made? I had known something was troubling you, that you were not yourself. I should have realised much sooner that I was the problem."

  "Let us not argue any further for the greater share of blame,

  but instead, think of the pleasures of the present. But there is one thing I must thank you for."

  "What is that?"

  She gave him a teasing look. "For kissing me that day at Rosings. If you had not, I would have refused you and said some thing quite intemperate, and we would have parted in anger, never to meet again. I should have missed so much had I never discovered the man you truly are."

  He put his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. "It is I who ought to thank you."

  ***

  Darcy frowned. It was completely ridiculous for him to feel abandoned simply because Elizabeth had decided to visit the convalescent Mrs. Tanner and some of the other tenants. Still, he had to force himself to allow her go alone or at least only in the company of a footman and a maid. He could not hover over her every minute. Even knowing there was no danger, as Mr. Tanner was in the magistrate's hands and would never return to Pemberley, he disliked having her away from his side.

  The urgent knocking at the study door caught Darcy's attention immediately. He put aside the letter he was writing and called, "Yes?"

  It was the servant girl Sylvia, the one Elizabeth had taken such an interest in. She was breathing heavily, as though she had been running. Darcy's brows furrowed at her interruption. As a housemaid, she ought to know better by now.

  "Mr. Darcy, sir, Mrs. Darcy is down at my family's house, and she's talking to a man, and I don't think she likes him. And she told me I was to come back right away and report to you, even though I was supposed to be helping her, so I think she wanted me to tell you."

  Not tenant trouble again. Elizabeth would know better, would she not? Still, he rose to his feet as he said, "Who is this man?"

  "My mother's cousin, sir. He's visiting from London with his wife, and they know Mrs. Darcy. His wife says she is Mrs. Darcy's sister." Sylvia's disbelief in this claim was readily apparent.

  Her mother's cousin. Suddenly he remembered why the name Smithson was familiar. He strode to the door. "Show me where she is."

  Fortunately it was not far. He knew better than to take a fast horse this time, and despite his instinct to tear Elizabeth away from Wickham, he knew it was not Wickham's way to harm her physically. No, Wickham was nothing but an opportunist. It was the lies he would tell Elizabeth that he needed to worry about. She had believed him before, and he knew all too well how convincing Wickham could be when he set his mind to it. Georgiana was proof of that.

  Darcy stopped short. The girl looked at him questioningly. "Sylvia, I have changed my mind. Please go back to the house, and tell Mrs. Reynolds—no one else, mind you!—that Miss Darcy is not to leave the house until I have returned."

  "Yes, sir." She pointed down the road. "Our cottage is the next one behind the hedgerow." She bobbed a curtsey and turned towards Pemberley House. Darcy strode forward without looking back.

  ***

  Elizabeth tried to quell her rising indignation. "Mr. Wickham, I believe my husband has already been generous enough to purchase your commission." She could hardly credit the easy assurance with which he bore himself. He must have familiarised himself with her usual routine and made a point of being present when she made her visit to the Smithson cottage.

  "It is true, my dear sister, but you have a greater under standing of the economies to which we will be forced, living on a soldier's wages. Mr. Darcy, who has never had a moment of need in his life, is less likely to comprehend the limitations."

  "Lord, Lizzy," Lydia said crossly as she brushed away a fly, "I do not see why we must discuss this in the heat and dust of the road. Can we not go to Pemberley House? Or are you too good for your own family now, as Mama says?"

  Elizabeth's lips tightened. She had no intention of allowing either of them within a quarter mile of Georgiana, and she did not even wish to imagine what Darcy's response would be to such an appearance.

  "Hush, Lydia," Wickham said. "It is not Elizabeth's fault. I am sure Mr. Darcy insists on denying your family, and it is no choice of hers." He smiled at Elizabeth with a good-humoured ease, as if there were an understanding between them.

  That there had once been a certain truth in his statement infuriated her yet further. Elizabeth resolved within herself to draw no limits in future to the impudence of an impudent man. "How curious you should think that, since he attended your wedding. But it is no matter. I am sorry I cannot offer you further hospitality."

  What had happened to Sylvia? Perhaps she had not under stood what Elizabeth wished her to do. She would have to find a way to extract herself from this unfortunate circumstance without Darcy. The challeng
e lay in how to keep Wickham from embarrassing Darcy with the things he might say to the people of Pemberley, who would not know to disbelieve him.

  Wickham took a step closer and spoke in a confidential tone. "I do not wish to put you in a difficult position, my dear sister. But you and I have always understood one another, as I understood your reasons for marrying a man you despised. We all must do what is necessary."

  It was one impudence too many, and Elizabeth lost all civility in anger. "Perhaps there was a time when I thought him the last man in the world I could be prevailed upon to marry, but that was only when I first knew him, for it is many months since I have considered him the best man of my acquaintance. I am astonished to think you might still expect me to share your beliefs now that I have had time to discover the man he truly is and the falseness of your accusations." She forced herself to silence before her loss of control led her to name her brother in-law a liar and cheat to his face.

  To one side, she saw Mrs. Smithson hurrying out of her cottage, her baby on her hip. She grabbed Mr. Wickham's arm and said, "I'll not have you upsetting Mrs. Darcy, George Wickham! I'll not have it! She is the kindest and most generous of ladies. I was willing to take you in for a few days for your mother's sake, but I see you've not changed. Be off with you!" She turned to Elizabeth and dropped a curtsey. "Begging your pardon, madam."

  "I see my presence in your defence is quite unnecessary." Darcy's deep voice came from behind Elizabeth.

  Startled, she looked over her shoulder at him, expecting to see an expression of distaste or at least dismay, but instead he looked… she did not know quite how to describe it, for he wore his serious look, but underneath it she could see traces of amusement. Certainly he seemed oddly unperturbed by finding her with Wickham.

  "Mr. Wickham was just leaving, were you not?" Elizabeth said firmly.

  "But Lizzy…" Lydia's pouting expression reminded Elizabeth of the many times she had wheedled concessions from their mother.

  With her thoughtless behaviour, Lydia had risked the future of all their sisters, not to mention Elizabeth's new family. A year ago, Elizabeth might have been inclined to continue to treat her as a sister no matter how distasteful her actions, but she was mistress of Pemberley now, with a responsibility to the people of Pemberley and, more importantly, to her husband. She stole a glance at him, then said, "Lydia, if you wish to write to me when you reach your new home, I will be glad to read your letters. But your husband is not welcome here, now or ever."

  How easy it had been for Wickham to turn her against Darcy when she first knew him! Elizabeth wondered how often the same thing had happened over the years with other acquaintances. No wonder her husband might feel as if no one liked him, if Wickham was behind him at every step so many of those years! And no wonder it had been so easy for him to believe she would never care for him. Suddenly, Wickham's gallantries sickened her.

  Mr. Wickham made a courtly bow. "I understand completely, Mrs. Darcy," he said smoothly, with a bit of a smirk towards Darcy. "I take no offence, since I know your character and the necessities you face."

  The utter effrontery of the man! And how it must hurt her husband, knowing she had believed Wickham in the past. Just as she had thought the shadows were starting to disappear from his eyes, too. She took a step forward and spoke quietly, so no one would overhear, but made no effort to disguise her anger. "Say one more word against my husband, Mr. Wickham, and I will personally see you horsewhipped."

  Finally, she had undercut his presumption; she could see it in his sudden pallor and the way his eyes darted about, as if he knew not how to look. She walked back to Darcy's side and took his arm. "I hope your journey is a pleasant one," she said.

  Darcy made a slight bow to them. "Mr. Wickham, Mrs. Wickham." Placing his hand over Elizabeth's, he turned and led her down the lane towards Pemberley House. When they were some distance away, in the shadow of the Pemberley chapel, he looked down at her and raised an eyebrow. "Horsewhipped? Really?"

  Elizabeth's cheeks grew hot. "I did not mean you to hear that. But you must admit, he richly deserves it."

  "His expression when you said it and when Mrs. Smithson defended you to him was all the revenge I could desire. And I would not have missed it for the world when you called me the best man of your acquaintance."

  Elizabeth stopped short. "Your hearing is altogether too keen! Although, I do not mind that you heard that, for it is true."

  "I appreciate the sentiment, even if I do not believe the substance."

  She tilted her head back to smile at him archly. "But it is true. You are not, perhaps, the most amiable or complying man of my acquaintance nor even the best-tempered or most eloquent. But the best man—that you certainly are. And most exactly the man who in disposition and talents suits me best. Now dispute it if you dare!"

  He kissed the tip of her nose. "I dare not dispute anything with you, my love, for if I did the tenants would rush to your defence, throw me off my own lands, and…" He could say no more, since Elizabeth's hand was pressed firmly against his mouth and behind it he was laughing.

  "Are you laughing at me, sir?"

  He nibbled on her fingertips. "No, I am meditating on the very great distress George Wickham would feel if he knew his machina tions had resulted in such a pleasurable outcome for me."

  "Because I threatened to have him horsewhipped?"

  His expression turned serious. "No, because it was the first time I believed you truly are glad to be married to me, not just making the best of the situation. To hear you defend me so to Wickham, while freely admitting I was once the last man in the world you could be prevailed upon to marry, made me the happiest man alive."

  "Fitzwilliam! If you have only just realised that, I shall have to add that you are not the cleverest man in the world, since I have felt that way for quite some time and have told you as much. I hope you will believe me now."

  "Will you then agree to believe that nothing you say or do will diminish my affection for you?"

  Elizabeth pretended to consider the matter. "I doubt it, for I so enjoy the ways you find to reassure me your feelings have not changed. I would be sorry to give those up completely."

  He laughed, a full, ringing laugh she had not heard from him before. He picked her up in his arms and kissed her lingeringly, nibbling on her lip.

  Suddenly seized by a most peculiar sensation, she pushed against his shoulder. "Fitzwilliam, put me down. Put me down this instant!"

  With a worried look, he set her carefully on her feet. "Did I hurt you? I am so very sorry, my love."

  She pressed her hands against her waist, half-distracted. "No, no, you did not hurt me. It is quickening!"

  He covered her hands with his own. His hands, her hands, and their child.

  Elizabeth smiled tremulously. "It is a very strange sensation."

  "Come, you must sit down." He led her through the heavy wooden doors into the chapel and helped her into the last pew, where the sun spilled a pool of coloured light from the stained glass window above them.

  "I am quite well, you know." She automatically lowered her voice, as she always did in church. There was another odd lurch inside her, as if her stomach had suddenly decided to turn somersaults. A new life. It was humbling and glorious at the same time. She moved closer to Darcy, seeking the comfort of his arm against hers, and looked up to meet his gaze.

  He took her hand and pressed it to his lips, making her wedding band glint in the dappled light. How fortunate she was to have him, even if she had struggled to hide her misery the day he put the ring on her finger. So much had changed since then. How she wished she could have it all to do over again, to have begun their marriage in love! But then she might never have come to appreciate her husband's depths the way she did now. Had she never known the despair of losing him, she might never have shared with him some of the deeper secrets of her soul. She had been too private a person for that when she was Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn. Not even Jane or Charlotte kn
ew as much of her thoughts and fears as her husband did, no matter how their marriage had begun.

  She gazed up into Darcy's dark eyes, seeing in them the deep emotion of the moment. Slowly, she spoke the words again, the way she wished she could have spoken them all those months ago, with a full heart. "To have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part."

  His eyes seemed to encompass all of her as he took in her meaning. Then he replied, "Forsaking all others, as long as we both shall live." He cupped her cheek in his hand and kissed her lightly and decorously, as he had so long ago in the church at Longbourn. "Of course, I meant it the first time I said it, too."

  Elizabeth's lips twitched, glad he could tease her about it. "You always were a quick study! I must take my time in consid ering these matters."