Mr. Darcy's Indiscretions Read online

  “Fitzwilliam, heavens.” She let out a laugh. “You are being very dire. We don’t even know if I’m with child.”

  “There was nothing stopping it,” said Darcy. “My seed has been sown.”

  “Oh, don’t say that,” said Elizabeth. “It’s so… agricultural.”

  He got up out of bed and began pulling on his clothes.

  “What are you doing?” she said.

  “I don’t know. I need to walk,” he said. “I need some air. I need something.” He thrust his hands in his hair and turned in a circle. “Dear God, Lizzy, this is the worst thing that could have happened.”

  She bit down on her lip. “Look, even if I am with child, I think the odds are good that I’m not going to die, Fitzwilliam.”

  He swallowed, pulling his shirt over his head. “No, you’re right. I won’t let you. I will have every accoucheur in the country attending you. You will stay in bed for the entire nine months. And there will be no strenuous activity of any kind. Nothing to risk your health.”

  “In bed for how long? You’re being silly. I will deliver the babe just fine. I am a strong, sturdy, healthy woman. Fitzwilliam, I am not Anne.”

  “I know that,” he said. “I survived losing her. I will not survive losing you.”

  “You won’t lose me,” she said. But after the babe was born, then what? Who would their child be, but Mr. Darcy’s natural child? Her child would not inherit anything, would not make a good marriage, would not have any future at all. She felt her throat tighten.

  “I’m going for a walk,” Darcy said, shrugging into his jacket.

  “Yes,” she said quietly. “Perhaps that would be a good idea.”

  * * *

  Elizabeth slept alone that night. Mr. Darcy did not come back. She would have been more upset about that if it hadn’t been for the fact that she was consumed with thoughts of her unborn child’s lack of a proper future.

  Lord, had she been an idiot?

  Or just selfish?

  It must be that. She had worried about the fact that she’d be ridiculed by women, and she had run from being Darcy’s wife, and look what had happened. She had been exposed anyway. Her name would be dragged through the mud regardless. Her sisters had been tarnished as well. All of it was for naught. She was ashamed of herself. Now, her sweet innocent babe would suffer, all in the name of what?

  She could not allow this to happen.

  The next morning, she ate breakfast quickly and then dressed to go and call on Mr. Darcy. It was scandalous for her to call on him on her own, of course, but she had done it before, and she was now no stranger to scandal.

  Before she could leave, however, a letter arrived from Darcy. It contained a recipe for a tea that his housekeeper had apparently given him. The tea was meant to induce a miscarriage.

  Appalled, Elizabeth ripped the letter into shreds and called for a coach.

  When she got to Mr. Darcy’s house, she did not wait for him in the sitting room, but instead went tearing through the house to the chagrin of the servants. She went to his study, where she threw open the door and cried, “What do you take me for?”

  Darcy was in his banyan, sitting by the window, looking as though he had not slept. He stood up, gaping at her.

  “How could you possibly send me that awful tea recipe?” she demanded. “You can’t think that I would do such a thing, can you? To do away with our own child? What kind of woman do you think I am?”

  He just stared at her, his lips parted.

  She advanced on him, across the room, closing the distance between them. “I could never do that.”

  He closed his mouth and he averted his eyes. “All I can think about is losing you. I can’t lose you.”

  “You have to face that fear, Fitzwilliam,” she said. “And I have to face mine. I have been such a hypocrite, urging you to do things that terrify you and then refusing to do the same myself. And when I thought of what might happen to a child that I would deliver out of the bonds of marriage, I began to wonder what sort of idiotic selfish creature I had become.”

  He furrowed his brow. “What are you saying?”

  “You said that it was an open offer, did you not?”

  He looked confused for a moment, but then it dawned upon him. He raised his eyebrows. “Wait, are you saying…?”

  She took a deep breath and gave him a wobbly smile. “Can you possibly bear an idiotic selfish creature such as me for a wife?”

  He chuckled softly. “Can you possibly bear a coward like me for a husband?”

  “Oh, Fitzwilliam, you are not a coward.”

  “And you are neither an idiot nor selfish, but the best woman that I know. And if we were to be married, you would make me the happiest man alive.”

  Her smile strengthened. “Oh, I want to marry you.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Yes, I am. I am indeed. One wonders how much suffering might have been avoided if I had simply accepted you in the first place all those years ago.”

  “Well, as you pointed out at the time, I rather made a mess of that proposal.”

  “You did,” she said. “But I was too ensconced in my own pride to see my own faults. It seems to be a bit of a habit with me. Here I have been doing the same thing. Scolding you for something I myself have not conquered.”

  “Oh, Miss Bennet… cease your wagging tongue and kiss me.”

  She laughed more, and then they were in each other’s arms.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  For Elizabeth, the prospect of the babe was no worry now that she and Mr. Darcy were engaged. Of course, they needed to be wedded with all haste, but that was no trouble, for they could marry in the same ceremony as Jane and Mr. Bingley, who were happy to share the joy of their day with the other couple. Bingley was most relieved, and he said that it would all be more bearable if they could call on each other. Even if the rest of society deserted them, they would have their own circle.

  Jane said later that she thought he was simply happy to have Mr. Darcy to talk to as opposed to all the women.

  Elizabeth said that he could have spoken to Mr. Darcy regardless, and Jane agreed, but she said that he wasn’t speaking to him on principle, because he thought that Darcy had treated Elizabeth so poorly.

  At which point Elizabeth felt compelled to explain to her sister that it was she who had refused Mr. Darcy’s marriage proposal. She explained her fear of being talked about and noticed.

  Jane did not condemn her. That was not her way. She only said that she was happy that Elizabeth had changed her mind. And that Mr. Darcy had taken his time in coming to ask for her hand in the first place, so he still deserved some censure.

  That all aside, Elizabeth was happy for her future. Truthfully, even though she was being talked about all over London, she did not know, because no one would dare associate with her to say it to her face. As for the papers, she did not read them.

  But Mr. Darcy was still in quite a bad way about the prospect of Elizabeth being with child. He tried to have her to go and see an accoucheur, but she told him that they must wait and see if her courses appeared before they had any fear of that.

  One week before the wedding, she began to bleed.

  She was relieved. She knew that Mr. Darcy would be relieved too.

  But strangely, it was bittersweet, as if she had lost something too. She had not realized that she had grown attached to the idea of her own child, of a family with Mr. Darcy. But she was, and she wanted that. That was how she knew she had made the right choice to marry him. It wasn’t only because she had fallen for him or because she liked the way his hands felt on her skin. They had the foundations here for something deep and everlasting.

  She told Mr. Darcy when he came to call on her the following day. Now that they were engaged, they had decided not to keep her house and not to spend any more nights together. Mr. Darcy was driven in that by the fear of getting her with child if he had not, but also because they wanted to wait until their wedding ni
ght to be together again.

  So, Mr. Darcy called on her at the small house she still shared with her sisters and they were able to steal a few moments alone by sending the others out into the dining room.

  “I am not with child,” she told him.

  His eyes widened. “No?” He breathed a sigh of relief, a smile spreading over his face. “But this is good news. This is very, very good news.” He kissed her.

  She kissed him for a minute and then pushed him away. She wasn’t comfortable with too many kisses too close to where her sisters might peek in and see. It wasn’t proper. “You shouldn’t be so happy about it. I could have been carrying the heir to Pemberley and—”

  “I don’t want heirs, I want you,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Well, perhaps you can have both,” she said, putting her hand on his cheek.

  “Ah, I don’t know,” he said. “That’s taking a risk.”

  “Well, Fitzwilliam,” she said, “that is what we do.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Elizabeth and Jane had almost decided to forgo a wedding breakfast, because they did not think anyone would come, but Kitty had been so put out by the thought of not having it that they had decided to have the breakfast after all, and they held it at Mr. Darcy’s home, because he could accommodate more people if anyone actually did arrive.

  Since no one was coming anyway, Elizabeth invited Lydia, because she wanted her sister to be there on their day of celebration. She wanted her whole family to be together. And Lydia came, with Wickham in tow, of all people, and Elizabeth didn’t know what to do about that. She was half-inclined to have him thrown out. She thought maybe Mr. Darcy might. After all, Georgiana was there, and why should he be allowed to be near her? That might upset her greatly.

  But Georgiana seemed to pay Wickham no mind, because she was absorbed with playing a most complicated piece on the piano. She only paused briefly for a few bites of wedding cake, and then said that she would like to play for them all, that the music would be her gift to her brother, because she wished him such happiness.

  In the end, they let Wickham stay. He seemed subdued in the company of Lydia anyway, as if she was able to rein him in.

  Elizabeth still found the two of them puzzling, she had to admit. But Lydia was not going to change her lifestyle. She was ensconced. And what was more, Elizabeth rather thought her sister was happy. Who was she to say that Lydia should live any differently?

  The strangest of arrivals was that of Charlotte Lucas—Mrs. Collins now. Elizabeth was not even sure how Mrs. Collins had gotten wind of the breakfast, but she arrived, with her husband in tow, who began talking of ridiculous things to anyone who would listen. He had never approved of the fact that his wife had kept in touch with Elizabeth after her reputation had been smeared. After all, Lady Catherine had used her influence to get him to boot them out of Longbourn as soon as was legally possible.

  But Charlotte had always been strong and determined. She had never shunned her old friend. And she was somehow able to influence Mr. Collins to go along with it all. Why, they even brought their two children, both girls.

  Charlotte embraced Elizabeth and wished her all the happiness in the world. “I always thought you liked Mr. Darcy, no matter what you said.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Oh, I did not. I hated him.”

  “You were far too out of sorts about the fact that he called you tolerable,” said Charlotte.

  “What?” said Mr. Darcy, coming over with a drink to hand to Elizabeth. “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, nothing,” said Elizabeth.

  Mr. Darcy gave her the drink. “Tolerable,” he repeated softly. Then his eyes widened. “You heard me?”

  Elizabeth giggled.

  Charlotte giggled.

  Elizabeth put her nose in her drink.

  “Oh, Lord,” said Darcy. “Well, no wonder you said no the first time I proposed.”

  “I suppose I grew on you,” said Elizabeth, smiling.

  “Oh, don’t be silly,” he said. “You know how I hate to dance with strangers. I would have said anything to get out of that.” He put his arm around her. And then he smiled at Charlotte. “Mrs. Collins. So good of you to come.”

  “Oh, of course,” said Charlotte.

  “How did you even—” But Elizabeth broke off because someone else had been escorted in by a servant, a person she had never expected to see again in her entire life.

  Lady Catherine.

  The elderly woman made her way into the room, holding herself upright and looking about with a severe expression on her face.

  “Oh, dear,” said Mr. Darcy.

  “It was from Lady Catherine we heard,” said Charlotte. “When I said that we would come, she said she thought that was a capital idea.”

  “You still speak to Lady Catherine?” said Elizabeth.

  “Oh, she dotes on Mr. Collins,” said Charlotte. “Invites us to visit several times a year. I think she is lonely, truly. She has no one now, after what happened to her daughter. And, uh, well, she does have not the personality that tends to, er, ingratiate her to many.”

  Elizabeth laughed.

  Darcy patted Elizabeth on the arm. “I will deal with her. You stay here.” He moved away to intercept Lady Catherine, who was making a beeline for Elizabeth.

  But Lady Catherine could not be intercepted. She waved her nephew off and was soon standing right in front of Elizabeth.

  “Mrs. Darcy,” she said. “You look well.”

  “Thank you, Lady Catherine,” said Elizabeth. “You look well also.”

  “I do not,” said Lady Catherine. “What I look, primarily, is old. I have outlived all my siblings and my own child. So, since I am so old, I may have very little time left. I shall get straight to the point.”

  Elizabeth steeled herself for it. This was the woman who had arranged for her to be kissed by Cumberbottom, who had manipulated her and set her life on its ruinous course. She did not want to hear what awful things she was going to say on her wedding day. Forget Wickham, Lady Catherine should be forced to leave, on today of all days.

  “I am sorry,” said Lady Catherine.

  Elizabeth sputtered. “What? You are what?”

  “I can’t say that I didn’t have good reasons for what I did. And I have my excuses as well. But in the end, I have reaped the wages of my sins, because in one day I lost both my daughter and the only grandchild I would ever have.”

  Elizabeth felt a sudden stab of sympathy for the woman. She was alone, wasn’t she? “My sincere condolences, Lady Catherine. That must have been an awful day for you.”

  Lady Catherine drew in a breath. “Sometimes, I have pondered what would have happened if I had not left things well enough alone. If, then, my daughter might not still be alive. After all, it seems that you and my nephew have come together after all, despite quite a large amount of obstacles in your path, many of them put there by my own actions. And you are happy. If I had not meddled, what might have been?”

  “We do not know that, madam.”

  “No, we do not,” said Lady Catherine. “But I want you to know that I do not fault you for the choices you have made. When I think of the options you had before you, I know you must have done as best as you could. And now, you are married, so it hardly matters.”

  “Truly?” Elizabeth was quite surprised by this. She had not expected that Lady Catherine would bend in terms of propriety. She seemed the soul of rigidity.

  “Truly,” said Lady Catherine. “It would be hypocrisy to blame you when I am at fault.”

  “Well…”

  “No, do not protest. It is my fault. I am the one who set it all in motion. And I regret it. I find that when I think of your future, I do not wish to have any more of my family gone from me, not if there is something I can do to keep them close. So, I have come to ask for forgiveness.”

  “It is the past, Lady Catherine,” Elizabeth found herself saying immediately. “You must not let yourself think on
it any longer.” It was odd. She could not have dreamed of forgiving this woman even an hour earlier, but now she could not see why she should cause anyone pain. Even Lady Catherine.

  “You are kind,” said Lady Catherine, looking at her with what Elizabeth might term respect. “I know it may come as a shock, but I always rather liked you.”

  Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up.

  “It’s true,” said Lady Catherine. “You are a woman with backbone, and you are not afraid to speak your mind. I admire such attributes. I do not deserve to trespass on your goodwill further, but I must ask. I should like it if… you and my nephew, when you have children, will you bring them to Rosings sometimes? Will you allow me to dote on them, treat them as the grandchildren that I might have had otherwise? I know it is a lot to ask, and you may say no, or you may say that you will think on it, and I shall not press further.”

  “I shall say yes,” said Elizabeth. “For without you, our children shall have no grandparents at all.”

  Lady Catherine’s hand shot out and she grasped Elizabeth’s. Her eyes shone. “Thank you. You have made me happier today than I have been in quite some time.”

  Elizabeth smiled at the woman. It was strange how she had gone from fearing and despising the woman to feeling pity for her. Perhaps people were often cruel because they needed pity. Elizabeth did not know, but she had to admit that letting go of the anger that she had felt toward Lady Catherine had healed something in her that she didn’t even know was broken.

  Lady Catherine let go of Elizabeth’s hand and moved on.

  Darcy rushed to her side. He kept his voice low. “Are you quite mad? You have promised to visit her? You do remember what she’s like, don’t you?”

  She laughed. “Oh, Fitzwilliam, we have so little family left. We must keep close to as many as we can. Society may shun us, but I will shun no one.” She sighed. “We have even allowed Wickham to come to our wedding breakfast.”

  “Yes, but that is only because we are stupendously happy,” said Mr. Darcy. “And the moment that he asks for money, I shall hit him, I really shall.”