An Autumn Accord: A Pride and Prejudice Novella Variation (Seasons of Serendipity Book 4) (12 page)

“
But
—
”

“
Rest, Jane. Rest. He is in safe hands and you will take the coming shift when I am certain I shall be exhausted.”

They paused in the hall and Jane searched Graham Hamilton’s face for any sign of doubt. She had hardened her heart against hope of trusting another man, and poor Mr. Hamilton had endured her shuns for over a month. It was time she trusted another, she knew. But it was bitter to admit.

“
I trust you, Graham. Do not fail us.” The fierceness in Jane Bennet’s eyes took Hamilton slightly aback, but he nodded in agreement. Jane stood on tiptoe to lean in and kiss her nephew’s forehead, still burning with fever. She twirled around and stomped away before the tears of relief and exhaustion could consume her, passing a flustered Mrs. Buchanan on her way to her rooms on the second story.

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Chapter 10

Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy strutted down the grand staircase in a gown of champagne silk with eyes only for her husband. The neighborhood of Meryton collectively gasped as they trickled into the receiving line. Their little Lizzie Bennet positively glowed in the brilliance of every candle in the home lit for a night of joyous celebration. 

“
Is there an evening you intend to forgo seizing the breath in my chest, Mrs. Darcy?” Fitzwilliam Darcy whispered into his bride’s ear after taking her hand.

“
Never, I’m afraid, sir.” The Lizzie Bennet of the Meryton assembly was present tonight, determined to cast off the melancholy that had hung on her shoulders since Lydia’s death. Her maid Becky accomplished a remarkable feat with her attire and Elizabeth grew impatient to dance with her husband for the first time since their engagement ball.

The ballroom of Netherfield Park filled, not entirely so full a crush as a fete in London would be, but there was scarcely space for one to walk without running into a friendly face. Elizabeth kept a watchful eye as Georgiana and Kitty excitedly conversed with Maria Lucas on the far side of the room. The girls were permitted to dance with Darcy and Bingley, and given explicit instructions to decline any other partners.

The true spectacle of the evening was none other than Lord Bergamote, who played his part perfectly as the mysterious titled Frenchman destined to marry Caroline Bingley. As the Bingley family entered the ballroom to the musicians warming up, Charles Bingley asked Catherine Bennet to dance over Georgiana. For a brief moment, Elizabeth thought she recognized a flitter of jealousy on the younger Darcy’s face, but it was soon replaced by a serene smile.

Mr. Darcy stood solemn as he led his charming wife to a place in the line, though Elizabeth knew better. To outsiders, he was taciturn, but she never doubted the smoldering affections for her person that lay just behind his mask of indifference for society.

The movements of the first set began. Measure by measure, the Darcys danced with no regard to the couples around them until a shrill giggle caught Elizabeth’s attention. She spun her head to the left as her body moved right to stare down the line at the familiar voice. At the end of the line, her mother was dancing with an unknown younger man with dark hair!

“
My mother is insulting my father’s memory in public?” Elizabeth asked hoarsely as her husband came close to her from the movements of the dance. It would be another exchange and turn before her husband could respond.

“
She has mourned for a year as is expected.” Darcy offered no other opinion on the clear difference in ages between Mrs. Bennet and the unknown dance partner, but if for no other reason than to assure his wife’s happiness, he would keep a careful eye on the couple.

Elizabeth frowned, her entire night unexpectedly spoiled. She had pushed so many dark thoughts out of her mind from the horrors of Lydia’s last moments to feeling the emotions of losing her father all over again, and yet her mother’s silliness and unwillingness to fulfill society’s rules of proper decorum drudged them all up again.

By the conclusion of the set, Mrs. Darcy struggled to conceal an uncharacteristic feeling of dizziness.  Darcy perceived the slightly heavier reliance on his arm as he led his wife away from the dance floor. Spying her friend, Charlotte Collins, heavy with child sitting on a far sofa, Elizabeth Darcy patted her husband’s arm to signal where she wished to be led.

“
Mrs. Darcy!”

“
Mrs. Collins!” Elizabeth giggled with her friend in true merriment. She clasped the hands of her oldest friend, as none would expect the lady to rise for an alternative greeting, and took a seat next to her. Mr. Darcy stood uncomfortably alert for an assault by Mr. Collins, Elizabeth’s cousin, Charlotte’s husband, and a complete imbecile.

Dramatically bending over his wife’s hand, Darcy bestowed a kiss over her glove. “My darling, I shall pay my obligatory respects to our hostess while you attend your friend.” As he walked away, Elizabeth giggled again.

“
Poor Mr. Darcy!” Charlotte added, eliciting an even greater laughter from his wife.

“
You don’t know the half of it. Miss Bingley has suffered a horrific confliction between pleasing my husband and pleasing her intended all week long. I daresay Fitzwilliam has expressed opinions contrary to Lord Bergamote only to play in a cruel game where a majority of the players do not understand the rules.”

Almost as if he were attracted by an unheard mention of his name, the very same Lord Bergamote began to make his way to the sofa where the two married women rested. Bowing low, he offered his hand for this set to Elizabeth, but she shook her head.

“
I fear I do not plan to dance much this evening as there are so many longtime friends I may not visit again soon. It is my intention to only dance with my husband, but do ask young Maria in my place, sir. Your consequence would build the young woman’s confidence, you see?” Elizabeth Darcy gestured toward Charlotte’s younger sister who was now out in society since her older sister was married and well settled.

Lord Bergamote had no choice but to accept Mrs. Darcy’s response and make his overtures to the younger daughter of a country squire if he wished to have a partner for the set about to begin. Once he was safely out of earshot, Charlotte Collins pulled gently on her friends elbow for her attention.

“
Elizabeth Bennet, not to dance? Pray, do you have news to share?” Charlotte’s face lit up at her suspicions that her friend was soon to find herself in the same increasing situation as she herself now sat, somewhat uncomfortably.

Elizabeth’s eyes followed the continued attentions of the strange man with her mother. Ignoring her friend’s question, she responded with one of her own. “Who is that man talking with Mama?”

“
He’s the new bookseller, a Mr. Maxwell. It is said that a number of ladies in the neighborhood find the novels he’s carrying in his shop quite diverting.” Charlotte Collins wrung her swollen fingers as she looked down at her burgeoning midsection. For all the love she held for Elizabeth, she would not be so mean as to share the gossip others said about her mother. “There, I’ve answered your question, now what of mine?”

A shy, conspiratorial smile spread across Elizabeth’s face as she gazed at her friend through her eyelashes. “It is too soon to know for sure.”

Charlotte squealed with joy, and clasped her friend’s hands once more in jubilation. “And Mr. Darcy? Does he know?”

Pain and worry washed over Elizabeth’s heart. She could not confess how stricken and pale her husband became after they lost Lydia. First his own mother, then his youngest sister-in-law, no, she could not make the poor man worry about her own time when there was yet a confirmation of her condition. “I have not shared my suspicions yet, his mother, you realize.” Elizabeth made brief eye contact with her husband still dancing with Caroline Bingley and flashed him a smile to hide the serious subject she was discussing.

Nodding sagely at her friend’s wisdom, Charlotte Collins gave her hand a small squeeze in solidarity. “When Mr. Collins first learned a babe was on the way, he so incessantly followed my person, I had to make calls on my mother for a moment’s peace!”

For the rest of the night, Elizabeth enjoyed dancing with her husband for both the dinner set and the last dance of the evening. Lord Bergamote took each time Elizabeth stood with her husband to indicate he should renew his addresses to her, a development that most strenuously vexed Caroline Bingley. During one set where Darcy danced with Kitty and Bingley danced with Georgiana, Miss Bingley came frightfully close to Mrs. Darcy with her glass of punch in hand.

As Elizabeth continued her conversation with the nieces of the poorly departed Mrs. Long, Caroline appeared to lose her footing but Elizabeth gracefully helped her friend regain her balance and grabbed the glass of punch in a deft movement. As poor Caroline was so very near to Elizabeth’s person from her stumble, Elizabeth took the opportunity to remind her hostess of the consequences that should fall if her dress became ruined.

“
All you would achieve is my retiring above stairs early, with my husband.” Elizabeth’s eyes flashed a dangerous warning to her social adversary to think once more about her aims.

“
My apologies, Mrs. Darcy. I told my maid this hem was much too long, and there we scarcely avoided disaster!”

“
Yes, what a fortunate circumstance I could anticipate your clumsiness.” Elizabeth said dryly, turning away from Caroline who now turned a deep shade of red that clashed horrifically with her burnt-orange gown. Elizabeth cared not as in two days’ time they would be on their way to London and to Pemberley and she could leave the Bingleys behind. As she returned to her discussions with Emma and Penelope Long, she ignored a fuming Caroline Bingley as she stormed off.

“
You are so brave to face her! Why, I think she came over here expressly to spill her punch on you!” Penelope Long whispered, covering her mouth with her gloved hand lest anyone read her lips.

“
Yes, well . . .” Elizabeth glanced down at the glass of punch in her hands and laughed in a deep, jolly tone. “I am only sorry my father was not here to share my triumph.” The two girls nodded in empathy as they too were only a year from their loss, but for once, Elizabeth’s heart did not sink into the pits of despair. Her heart felt light to speak about her father and the good memories she had of his sardonic wit at many an assembly and neighbor’s party.

“
If you will excuse me?” She left the Long sisters to find a place to dispose of the awful punch, running into her mother who had just finished another set with the man Lizzie now knew to be Mr. Maxwell.

“
Oh, Lizzie! How kind you are to your dear Mama!” Mrs. Bennet seized the punch from her daughter and gulped it down with the manners of a soldier in a saloon.

“
But, Mama -“

“
Lizzie,” Mrs. Bennet interrupted her daughter and turned, “this is Mr. Charles Maxwell, purveyor of fine stationary and books. Mr. Maxwell, this is my second eldest daughter, Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

“
How do you do, Mrs. Darcy?” He bowed low and Elizabeth narrowed her eyes as she performed the slightest curtsy.

“
My dear, there you are.” Mr. Darcy sidled up to Elizabeth’s and pertly nodded to his mother-in-law and ignored her companion. “Sir Lucas would like a word, and I know how you wished most to visit with everyone this evening.”

Elizabeth smiled at the social dexterity of her husband, her knight! “Yes, please lead the way, husband.” Walking away from her mother, now openly flirting with Mr. Maxwell for the entire ballroom to see, Elizabeth jutted her chin out a little more and her posture became rigid.

Darcy had not planned this coup with Sir Lucas, but the older man did not disappoint when one of the most distinguished men to ever visit the county led his wife over for conversation, a woman the lowly baronet had known since her infancy. Darcy even endured a repetition of inquiry as to if he and Elizabeth had been to St. James and when his wife might be presented to the Court.

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Chapter 11

Still mightily tired from last evening’s ball, Fitzwilliam Darcy woke happily next to his sleeping wife in her apartment at Netherfield Park. He winced and rubbed the slumber from his eyes, looking to the window for some sign of the time. Rolling over, he caressed his wife’s form, nuzzling his lips to the back of her neck. Yet, she did not stir.

Running his hand over her nightgown, as both had been too exhausted in the wee hours of the morning to do much else but fall asleep in each others' arms, his hand relished the smooth transition from her hip to her stomach when it paused. He lifted his hand again and placed it on her side, slowly rolling from there to the front and then paused again. There was no mistaking a slight bump had formed on his wife’s midsection!

Elated with joy any man would feel on the discovery of his first child’s impending arrival, Fitzwilliam snuggled closer to his wife in a full embrace to keep himself from calling out. Alone so many years, he always knew his Elizabeth would bring his life inordinate amounts of delight, but to feel his heart nearly bursting with the emotion was startling.

“
Mmmm, Fitzwilliam?” Elizabeth groggily moaned as she tightened her arms around his.

“
Sleep darling. I have an errand and then I shall be back.”

“
Alright,” Elizabeth Darcy said without opening her eyes, merely accepting the coverlet Darcy tucked over her as he left their bed to return to her dream.

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