Estranged, page 15
Watching fondly, Darcy and Elizabeth’s hearts swelled with hope at Lady Catherine’s effort to interact with their son, despite past grievances.
Their tender moment ended as Bennet scampered back over, face smeared with icing, eliciting warm laughter from his adoring parents and Aunt Georgiana, who had joined them seconds earlier. The loving family danced once more amidst the glittering celebration.
As the party wore on, Elizabeth noticed Georgiana sitting alone, watching the dancers wistfully. Elizabeth brought over a plate of sweetmeats and sat beside her young sister-in-law.
“Are you not enjoying yourself, dearest?” Elizabeth asked.
Georgiana smiled shyly. “Yes, everything is marvelous. It is just...” She blushed and fell silent.
Elizabeth knew Georgiana struggled to overcome her shyness and converse easily in company. Gently, she suggested, “Perhaps you could ask Colonel Fitzwilliam to dance?”
Georgiana’s blush deepened becomingly. Glancing across the room at the handsome colonel surrounded by admirers, she shook her head. “No! I could not possibly.”
Just then, the musicians began to play a merry tune. Elizabeth looked at her younger sister-in-law and, without thinking, grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the dance floor. She had spotted the Colonel, who seemed surprised but willing to take the young girl’s hand.
Darcy watched approvingly as his sister’s initial hesitance transformed into a girlish smile as she danced with abandon, the colonel expertly guiding her through the steps.
When the dance concluded, Georgiana curtsied breathlessly to her grinning partner. “Thank you, Cousin, I have not enjoyed so much fun in ages!” she exclaimed.
As the afternoon turned into evening, the children grew weary. Elizabeth carried a sleeping Bennet up to the nursery and tucked him in tenderly. The sounds of laughter and conversation continued to echo from downstairs, but in the nursery, all was calm and quiet.
Descending the staircase sometime later, she returned to the ballroom, where the last guests were taking their leave, and those visiting from afar were headed off to their quarters. There, she found Darcy, and they shared a rare private moment, no words needed as they slowly swayed together, joy and love overflowing.
As the last notes faded, Darcy and Elizabeth stood embraced in the steadily emptying ballroom. Elizabeth sighed contentedly, her head nestled against her husband’s chest.
“This was a wonderful day, my love,” Darcy murmured, stroking her hair. “You truly outdid yourself planning this celebration for our son.”
Elizabeth tilted her chin up to gaze fondly at him. “I wanted everything to be perfect. Our sweet boy deserved nothing less.”
Darcy caressed her cheek. “You both deserve the world. I shall spend my life trying to give you everything your heart desires.”
“You already have,” Elizabeth whispered. “Your love and Bennet’s are the only things I need.”
Darcy pressed a fervent kiss to her forehead before sweeping her up into his arms, eliciting a surprised laugh. “Shall we escape to my private library for a celebratory brandy, Mrs. Darcy?”
Later on, the room aglow with the flickering fire, Elizabeth and Darcy found themselves entwined on a plush settee, snifters of brandy in hand. Their faces, flushed from the warmth and the spirit, were animated as they traded stories and laughter about the party and Bennet’s unabashed joy. Darcy’s eyes sparkled as he recalled Bennet’s escapades, and Elizabeth’s melodic laughter rang out as she recounted the looks on their guests’ faces. The intimacy of the moment, wrapped in shared memories and genuine delight, seemed to draw them closer, a moment as intoxicating as the brandy they sipped.
As the clock chimed midnight, Darcy stroked his dozing wife’s hair. I cannot imagine life being any more perfect than this, he thought, before carrying Elizabeth off to bed. He paused at the nursery’s doorway and gingerly opened it to gaze at his slumbering son, his heart swelling with love and gratitude.
He smiled contentedly, the happy memories of Bennet’s special day lingering sweetly like the faint scent of roses in the air. Cradling Elizabeth in his arms, a tantalizing thought crept into his mind.
What such heavenly bliss this is... so wonderfully nice. So perfect. So right. He kissed her on her forehead, causing her to stir and her eyes to flutter open.
Elizabeth smiled up at him and touched his face with the tip of her finger. “May I tell you something, Mr. Darcy?” she whispered.
Darcy settled his eyes upon her countenance with an air of profound admiration, and not a word escaped his lips.
“I love you,” Elizabeth said softly, the depth of her emotion resonating in her voice. “I do... with all my heart and soul.”
Chapter 29
A NEW ARRIVAL
A YEAR LATER…
Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm yellow glow on everything in its path. Elizabeth rested, propped against a mountain of pillows, her body depleted and sore from the rigors of childbirth. Yet joy sparkled in her eyes as she gazed down at the swaddled newborn nestled securely in the crook of her arm.
After agonizing hours of contractions and pushing that felt as if they might rip her slender frame in two, the midwife had finally placed the infant on her bosom. The feeling of her daughter’s slippery, warm body pressing against her own had eclipsed all the trauma and pain.
Now cleaned and swaddled, the baby’s downy chestnut hair clung to her delicate scalp. Her wispy lashes fluttered against round cheeks, still flushed from her dramatic arrival into the world. Elizabeth studied her daughter’s face with wonder, tracing the delicate curve of her mouth, which was drawn into a soft, natural pout. She marveled at the miniature hands, each with perfect petite fingers, curled into tiny fists. The sight of this new life, so intimately connected to her own being, filled her with a profound sense of awe and enchantment.
A soft knock sounded at the door, and moments later, Georgiana’s face appeared around the edge, her eyes wide and tentative as she peeked into the room. Now a resident of Pemberley, she seemed to carry a gentle hesitance with her, even in familiar surroundings. “The midwife said I may visit briefly. Are you well, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth’s eyes were slightly sunken and heavy with exhaustion, but her face lit up when she saw Georgiana. She nodded and said in a gentle whisper, “Come, meet your niece.”
At Elizabeth’s warm invitation, Georgiana perched carefully on the bed’s edge. The young lady clasped Elizabeth’s hand joyfully before looking down at the baby.
“She is beautiful! A true gift,” Georgiana cried, her eyes shining as she took in the sight of her niece. Gently, she reached out to stroke the baby’s velvety cheek, overwhelmed with protectiveness and wonder toward this tiny being. “Have you chosen a name?”
When Elizabeth announced “Charlotte,” Georgiana’s eyes misted over. “How lovely!” she exclaimed.
“Indeed,” Elizabeth said. “She is named after my intimate friend from Hertfordshire—someone whom you have yet to meet. But hopefully, that will be rectified soon. I wish for my daughter to possess my friend’s strength and wisdom.”
“A perfect choice.”
Baby Charlotte stirred then, yawning expansively to reveal her tiny tongue, nearly drawing a chuckle from the women.
“And where is young Bennet?” Georgiana said, tossing a glance about the room. “Surely he is desperate to meet his sister.”
Elizabeth confirmed her son’s impatience to inspect the new arrival. As if on cue, Darcy came into the room with Bennet tucked on his hip, unable to contain his excitement.
“Mama! Baby here now?” His eyes widened as he took in the blanketed bundle, seemingly fascinated by Charlotte’s miniature features. “So tiny!” he pronounced in awe, eagerly escaping his father’s arms. “I help care for the baby?” he offered earnestly.
Her heart melted, and Elizabeth kissed her son’s cheek. “What a good big brother you shall be. Can you say hello to Charlotte?”
Bennet dutifully patted the infant’s blanketed foot. “Hello, Char... lotte. I am Ben.”
The family shared a delighted chuckle at his earnest effort. Darcy settled beside Elizabeth on the bed, their son nestled between them. “Well done, Master Bennet,” he praised warmly. “You and Charlotte shall be the best of friends.”
Gazing at Charlotte, his countenance suffused with tenderness and protectiveness toward this new fragile life he and Elizabeth had created. He bestowed a kiss atop her head as if wordlessly sealing his vow to shelter her from all harm.
Elizabeth’s heart swelled, watching her husband and children bond. The rightness of this moment outshone all the trials that had come before. Each child was a precious gift, weaving this family together through enduring love.
Charlotte began to fuss, her tiny mouth moving instinctively. Understanding the baby’s cue, Elizabeth silently begged her family for privacy. Moments later, she gently eased down her nightgown to nourish her daughter. She gasped slightly at the tugging sensation as the infant latched on and began to nurse hungrily.
Georgiana and Darcy respected Elizabeth’s privacy by engaging young Bennet in distracting conversation in the sitting room next to the apartment. Elizabeth pulled Charlotte close against her and felt the warmth of her child’s body against her own. Tears welled in her eyes as she traced her finger over her daughter’s scalp, experiencing the intimacy that could only be shared between a mother and her child—how it was a bond that no one else in the world could ever break.
How she wished she could have shared such a miraculous wonder with Bennet. This longing only strengthened her determination to savor every moment with her daughter.
When she had finished, she summoned her family’s attention, beckoning them to return to her bedside. Elizabeth nestled Charlotte into the crook of Darcy’s strong arm so he could properly admire his daughter.
“She is perfect—just like her mother,” he pronounced proudly. “Well done, my love.” Handing the baby safely back to her mother, Darcy drew his family close once more.
Elizabeth’s heart swelled as she gazed at her husband, stalwart and devoted. Her eyes then shifted to their children, blossoming with promise.
She smiled.
The estrangement and misunderstandings that had once clouded her world had dissipated with time—forever replaced by a deep, abiding, and everlasting love.
The End
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PROLOGUE
Mr. Thomas Bennet raked his fingers through his hair, and a dark strand fell onto his brow. He caught it with his other hand and pushed it back into place. His gaze rested on his child—a little eight-year-old girl who held her hands to her mouth as she cried. Tears streamed down her angelic face, leaving tiny streaks along her skin. Her anguished sobs filled the air.
“Mama! Mama! Jane!”
The sound of his child crying ate away at Mr. Bennet’s heart, but the reason behind her tears caused him the most pain. A young man in the prime of his life, the distraught gentleman now called himself a widower and a single father of a motherless child. His wife, the late Mrs. Francis Bennet née Gardiner, and his firstborn child, Jane, had perished in a carriage accident a little more than a fortnight ago.
Such pain, unlike anything he had ever known, filled his world. Bennet had never suffered a large family. An only child, he lost his parents to a carriage accident over a decade prior. He had steeled himself against the ensuing pain as best he could, for that was what everyone expected of him. Though his sadness was insurmountable, he had held back his tears with great fervor because that was what grown men did: they did not cry.
A world without his parents had come upon him in an instant. Yet, it was not enough time for him to truly grieve their loss, for, despite Bennet’s carefree ways, he had been thrust into a position of power as master of Longbourn Village in Hertfordshire, where people depended on him for their livelihoods.
A sense of guilt had also compounded his suppressed grief—guilt that he had not taken his role as the future master of Longbourn more seriously when he should have by learning what he needed to know from his father. Guilt that he, therefore, had disappointed his father by choosing the gaieties of youth and caprice over the responsibilities of an only son and future heir.
Faced with the daunting task of managing an estate, another more life-altering challenge awaited him mere months after his parents’ deaths—a forced marriage to a young woman from the nearby town of Meryton who was with child. Although she was respectable enough, she was by no means the woman his parents would have chosen for him, owing to her family’s roots in trade. Her father was an attorney, and her mother was the daughter of an attorney, too, from a neighboring county.
Miss Gardiner was a great beauty, however. What did lineage have to do with anything when the prospect of courting a beautiful woman was at stake for a young man sowing his wild oats? It was the only way he could describe his fascination with Miss Gardiner, for she was not an intelligent woman—not by anyone’s standards. In contrast, he was a man of sense and education, a Cambridge man who walked among the pillars of society’s elites. How great his love was for her was hard to say and, indeed, wholly irrelevant. His actions charted his life’s choice from almost the moment he first danced with her.
“Mama! Mama! Jane!” the child cried out once more.
Mr. Bennet stroked his daughter’s soft cheek and wiped away a tear with his thumb. “Hush … do not cry, my darling child. My little angel is sad because Mama is not here to tuck you into bed and your dearest Jane is not here to snuggle next to you. They are both at rest, though they are surely smiling at you as we speak and are proud of you. I am proud of you, too, for being so strong.”
Mr. Bennet then leaned over and kissed his daughter’s forehead.
“But I do not want to be strong. I want my mama and Jane,” the little girl replied.
“Yes, I know, my dear. I know.”
Her small nose crinkled as she sniffled. “Will you stay with me tonight, Papa?”
“If that is what you want, my little angel.” Mr. Bennet took off his coat and sat on the bed beside his daughter.
She threw herself into her father’s arms and clung to him. “Promise you won’t leave me too.”
A sharp pang tugged at Bennet’s heartstrings as he softly stroked her tiny hand until her eyelids grew heavy and she drifted into a peaceful sleep. He stroked her hair gently until he was sure she was sleeping soundly then leaned over. He kissed her on the forehead, whispered that he loved her more than anything in the world, and left the room with a heavy heart.
No, Thomas Bennet had not cried when he lost his beloved parents in a carriage accident more than a decade ago. He did not cry when he lost his young wife and firstborn child. Though he had successfully held back the tears for so long, the well of sorrow had not been deep enough to contain his grief. As the carriage pulled away from Pemberley Manor in the early pre-dawn hours with the recently widowed young man its sole passenger, all he could do was cry.
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Her Spirits Rising to Playfulness
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Something to Think Of
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Designed for Each Other
By Reason, by Reflection, by Everything
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Impertinent Strangers
Bewitched, Body and Soul
To Refuse Such a Man
Miss Elizabeth Bennet
Still a Young Man
Love Will Grow
Only a Heartbeat Away
As Good as a Lord
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Expecting His Proposal
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What He Would Not Do
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