Mr. Darcy's Secret (27 page)

"Do not underestimate my proficiencies, madam," Darcy answered, as if perfectly affronted, stepping away from her with a mock bow.

"Oh no, Mr Darcy, I could never do that," Elizabeth cried, with a smile on her lips. "On the contrary, you have many abilities for which I declare you to be quite the genius, but I do not think the arts are necessarily your forte."

"I cannot imagine where you think my gifts tend, in that case," Darcy declared, his face as solemn as ever.

"Hmm, let me think," mused Elizabeth, her head inclined on one side as she gave him the benefit of her fine eyes. "Come closer, Mr Darcy, and if you will accompany me to Darcy's Hall, I will explain everything."

They sat high up in the stone built folly, which gave a wonderful view across the estate. Elizabeth saw the beauty of the landscape in front of them stretching as far as the eye could see. A patchwork of fields and a wood sloped away down the hillside to the river in the valley. Shadows made by the clouds swept over the long, silver grasses waving in the breeze, and in the distance on the other side, Elizabeth's eyes rested on the crest of a hill crowned by a circle of beech trees from whence the wind seemed to come, ruffling the coats of the sheep, wearing away the huge rocks which broke the surface of the earth. Nestled in the valley along the winding river, the golden stone houses of Lambton glimmered in the afternoon light.

"Penny for your thoughts, Mrs Darcy," said Fitzwilliam, watching her closely.

"Oh, my thoughts are far more expensive than that, you know," she said with a laugh, unable to resist teasing him.

"Five pounds for them then, will that suffice?" he asked, knowing she would not be at all amused by his retort.

Elizabeth would not look at him. She gazed at the horizon and maintained her expression of deep contemplation. "No money will ever pay for them. Only something precious to me might release the thoughts in my head."

"Elizabeth Darcy," he whispered, "would that be something or someone? And whilst I desire to know what goes on inside your head, there are other matters in mine which are far more pressing. I long to kiss you but I am not certain if you would think it quite precious enough a something."

Elizabeth turned her head. "One of your kisses is worth more to me than anything else in the world. Take one if you really wish to find out what I am thinking."

Mr Darcy took her in his arms. The moment was sweet and their exchange of kisses and thoughts were the happiest they had ever known.

Longbourn, September, 1803

Mr Bennet leaned back in his chair with an air of self-satisfaction. He waved the letter in his hand, addressing his wife as he spoke. "I always told you she was a clever girl, did I not? And now she has surpassed all my expectations."

Mrs Bennet looked up from her cup of morning tea. "What nonsense are you talking, Mr Bennet? The only girl I ever recall you declaring to be clever is our daughter Lizzy, but not only is she now a married woman, but I also doubt she is in much of a mind to be witty and smart in her present condition. What is it all about? Who is your letter from, my dear?"

"Mr Darcy!" Mr Bennet replied, returning to his missive without another word.

"Mr Darcy! Mr Darcy! Good heavens, what does he say? Is Elizabeth near her time? Does he want me to go? Quick, Mr Bennet, we must harness the carriage. Oh, Lord! I knew it would be like this, with not a moment to prepare myself. I haven't a thing to wear! Mr Bennet! Stop sitting there opening and closing your mouth like a codfish. We must go to Pemberley."

"'Tis too late, my dear Mrs Bennet. Indeed, you are not needed."

"Too late! What can you mean? Is Elizabeth ill, or worse? Oh, I knew no good would come of it, to be confined so early in her marriage. Tell me... no, don't tell me, I do not think I can bear it."

"Then I shall keep Mr Darcy's news to myself." Mr Bennet folded the letter and placed it on one side before picking up his newspaper.

"Oh, you delight in vexing me. Well, do as you please. If it does not concern me I am not interested anyhow. I do not want to learn that he has bagged a hundred pheasants since last Tuesday; indeed, I do not. I cannot think how you can enjoy corresponding with a man who has so little to say on any matter except his sport."

"You are not interested to hear about your grandson then, I take it?" Mr Bennet asked, peering over his glasses at his wife.

"Grandson, my grandson?" repeated Mrs Bennet, whose countenance displayed the shock she felt.

"We are grandparents, Mrs Bennet. Elizabeth has been duly delivered of a fine infant boy in the early hours of this morning."

"Well, why in heaven's name did you not say so earlier? A boy, Mr Bennet. That is splendid news. But it does not alter the fact that I shall be needed instantly. Elizabeth will be fretting for her mother. Come, Mr Bennet, make haste!

"Mr Darcy has invited us to go in a fortnight's time," Mr Bennet replied. "He insists there is no need for us to go rushing up there immediately, and I daresay our young parents would wish to spend their time getting to know the little fellow without an army attending them in the first instance."

"And not have her mother for advice and counsel? How will she know the best way to hold the babe if I do not show her? And if he is colicky, as some newborns are found to be, who will recommend a little warm wine and water on a spoon?"

"I am sure they already have several nannies in place if they are needed. Mrs Bennet, let us wait until the proper time. We have been invited, after all, and I daresay we shall be as instructive as Lizzy wishes once we are there."

"Perhaps you are right," said Mrs Bennet grudgingly, helping herself to another piece of toast, "but babies soon lose that look of just having been born, and I should so like to see him."

"Have patience, my dear; we'll see him soon enough."

"Kitty will be so excited. It is all she has talked about ever since she went to Pemberley in the summer. She is sure to want to dance with him again."

"I think the little lad will be too young for dancing a while yet."

"Oh, you are ridiculous, Mr Bennet. I am talking of her dancing with Mr Lloyd, the rector."

"Well, there'll be a christening, no doubt. I expect there'll be some chance to dance then."

"I shall have to tell Kitty and Mary to come home at once. They have been with Jane quite long enough. I need them here."

"But we are not due to leave for a fortnight. Leave them where they are. I'm sure I do not want them back again just now."

"I do not want them tiring Jane out. It is early days and if she wants to have a healthy baby like Elizabeth she must learn to put her feet up and stop gadding about Netherfield."

"I'm sure Jane knows what she is about. Your fussing will do more harm than good."

"Let me remind you, Mr Bennet, that my fussing has been very productive. If I had been content to let my daughters follow their hearts willy nilly, they would not have made the matches they have. Jane and Mr Bingley, Lizzy and Mr Darcy, Lydia and Mr Wickham, Kitty and Mr Lloyd..."

"I see you have married off Kitty already. Does the rector know of your plans for his future happiness?"

"He ought to be sensible of them, but if not, I shall soon give him a push in the right direction. If only Mary could find a suitor, how happy I should be."

"Now that would be a joyous occasion for us all."

"Mr Bennet, we are grandparents, can you imagine? I wonder whom he will favour. Do you think he has Lizzy's eyes and Mr Darcy's nose?"

"They'd look a little out of place on a baby, my dear," Mr Bennet drily observed.

"And what will they call him, Mr Bennet, does it say?"

"Ah, yes, I was just coming to that. Fitzwilliam, of course, after his father, and George after his grandfather before him, and then he is to have my name."

"Oh, my dear, what an honour. The heir of Pemberley is to bear your name. Let us raise our teacups to the little cherub. Fitzwilliam George Henry Darcy, welcome to the world!"

The End

Jane Odiwe is an author and artist. She is completely obsessed with all things Austen and is the author of
Lydia Bennet's Story
and
Willoughby's Return
, and author and illustrator of
Effusions of Fancy
, consisting of annotated sketches from the life of Jane Austen. She lives with her husband and three children in North London and Bath, England.