Chapter 4

4

E lizabeth stretched, then wiggled her toes. Arching her back like a barn cat wanting to be petted, she blinked away the sunlight streaming through the window. The coals in the fireplace glowed red. The maid must have recently been in her chambers. Was that what roused her from deep slumber?

The twins! How could she have left them for so long?

Throwing back the bedclothes, Elizabeth hurried to the armoire containing the few clothing items she had brought from Longbourn. Rushing through her toilette, she slipped her feet into her shoes.

The door to the nursery was silent when she opened it. What she found inside the room stopped her in her tracks. Eyes wide, her fingers pressed against her lips.

The two wet nurses slept. Mrs. Williams snored loud enough to wake the babies except they were already awake.

Longbourn’s housekeeper rocked little Charlie, holding him on her shoulder, gently rubbing his back. His eyes glanced her way, then back to Hill. Was he trying to survey his surroundings? Or was he attempting to locate the man cooing to his sister, for that was precisely what Mr. Darcy was doing?

Instead of resting Clara against his chest, he supported the tiny girl with one hand behind her shoulders and head as she reposed on his legs. The fingers of his other hand brushed the tufts of light hair back from her forehead, then smoothed the furrows before running the length of her button nose to her chin.

“You are beautiful like your mother, Miss Clara. Will you have her smile? Will you be able to put others at ease as she did? Or will you be filled with vitality like your mother’s closest sister?”

Elizabath’s fingers pressed against her lips to keep silent. She did not want to miss one word he uttered to Clara.

“Will you always pay such rapt attention when I speak to you, little girl? Or will you be like Georgiana, who barely hears anything I have to say now that she is close to her presentation? Will you…will you fall in love quickly like your mother, or will you make the gentleman work to win your affections?”

The baby cooed in response, intently focused on the movement of his lips. Elizabeth did the same, her heart swelling at hearing him praise Jane.

“Your mother and father were happy until I interfered, I am afraid. I do not know much, little lady, but I do know that your father was as devoted to your mother as a man could be. His heart, as good a heart as a gentleman could have, could overlook grievances, even mine. How he would have adored you, Miss Clara. He would love your brother deeply, little miss, but you, you would have completely captured his heart. I know this for a fact, for you have already won mine.”

Who was this man? This was the second time within a few hours that he displayed kindness. Was this an anomaly? Or had she misjudged him based on his conduct when he resided at Netherfield in the year 1811? Had something drastic tempered him during the interim? Was it a permanent change, or was this the work of a moment? There was simply no way she could know.

She hesitated to interrupt him.

Mrs. Hill saw her. “Miss Lizzy, this here boy might be small but look how his eyes follow you. And him not more than a week old.”

Darcy’s eyes darted to her, his cheeks turning a brilliant shade of red knowing she eavesdropped on his precious babbling to Clara. His blush softened him somehow.

“Why, I have no doubt,” the housekeeper continued, “he will be a fine, strong gent who other men respect and the ladies love. He will wear fine clothes and drive a fancy carriage. His library will be full of books he’s read just like my master”—this made Elizabeth smile, knowing Bingley was not a great reader, but her own father was—“and he will live life to the full just like you.”

Elizabeth grinned as Mrs. Hill brushed her fingertips over the boy’s back. Young master Bingley had worked his charm on Longbourn’s long-suffering housekeeper. What a blessing the lad must be to a woman who routinely dealt with Francine Bennet’s nerves.

Peeking at Clara, she noticed Mr. Darcy had moved her to his chest, where she appeared entirely content.

When Clara began moving her head back and forth, rubbing her nose on his shoulder, Elizabeth warned, “You are in danger, sir, or at least your coat and cravat are, for my niece does not care how fine a garment is. Your valet will not thank you at all.”

Mr. Darcy shrugged. “Parker is up to the challenge. ”

As his hand rubbed the baby’s back to her toes, Elizabeth marveled how his large hands could be gentle.

Shaking her head to dispel the thought, she felt the loss of not having a baby to hold. Standing there with empty arms, she sighed. Since their birth, unless they nursed at the same time, Elizabeth had a baby in her embrace.

The serenity of the scene went a long way to healing Elizabeth’s wounded heart. “Jane would have loved seeing others admire her children. She never could understand how others could not love those whom she loved. And Bingley would have burst his buttons with pride to see one of his closest friends captivated by his daughter. How I wish they were here.”

“I do as well.” Mr. Darcy stood. Handing the little girl to Mrs. Nicholls, he said, “Miss Bennet, we need to talk.”

This was it. She mustered her fortitude because she would not show him how much those few words unsettled her. Already, her heart began to shield itself because if she knew Mr. Darcy, whatever he planned would cost her dearly. His opinions and commands were meant to be obeyed. Following him down the corridor, she stiffened her shoulders, determined not to break. He would feel the strength of her ire before he dared to remove the twins from her.

Bingley’s desk was in disarray. Darcy shook his head, inherently knowing that rather than toil over columns, Bingley spent his time with his wife. Whereas Darcy would never leave his study disordered, he could understand the attraction of sharing a life with someone whom he loved dearly. There could be no higher priority.

Papers littered the desk, a half-empty brandy bottle perched precariously on the edge. An empty glass lay on the floor. Accounting ledgers were stacked in the chairs. The hearth was bare, and the curtains were drawn; the room was cold and drafty.

Miss Bennet stepped in the room behind him. He assigned a footman to light a fire and have a tray sent in for her since he doubted she had broken her fast. Leaving the door ajar, he opened the curtains.

During the time he saw to their comfort, Miss Bennet sorted the ledgers, replacing them in an orderly fashion on the shelves.

Once the fire was lit, Darcy pulled a chair alongside him and gestured for Miss Bennet to be seated. Before he departed his chambers that morning, he knew that his greatest obstacle would not be going through Bingley’s estate. No, he needed to earn Miss Bennet’s trust and respect. Considering how he might go about the task had been challenging since he never had been in that position before. Typically, ladies threw themselves athim, trying to tempt him or press their advantage to catch his eye. Not Miss Bennet! No, she was more likely to throw something at him, something heavy or sharp.

He considered his words before he spoke, not wanting to damage the fragile bond they had begun to form. “If you would not mind, I thought we might review Bingley’s correspondence together. Mrs. Nicholls spoke of a letter from Bingley’s sister, the former Caroline Bingley, which upset her master deeply, leading him to call for his horse.”

Her nearness distracted him until he ended up reading the same correspondence more than once. Several times, in fact. She smelled of honeysuckle, his favorite spring fragrance that lightened his mood and filled him with? —

He cleared his throat loudly. When she turned to him, he completely forgot why they sat in Bingley’s study.

Good lord! He was ridiculous. He desperately needed focus.

One by one, they went through each pile, sorting them by their purpose: invitations that needed response, estate bills to be paid, and other correspondence. The final few letters were from friends and distant families. All needed to be notified.

“Did you find it?” Miss Bennet asked as she went through the final pile again.

“No, I did not.” Pulling out the drawers, Darcy searched through the papers. “These seem to belong to the former tenant.”

“Mr. Millican?”

Glancing at the signature on the top page, Darcy saw it was indeed “Millican.”

Miss Bennet checked the other tables and cabinets and asked a maid to look between the cushions of the sofas and chairs for the missing letter. Finding nothing, they moved to the bookshelves, removing the few volumes to see if anything was inside them or behind them. Miss Bennet attended the task with concerted effort. She would be a competent estate mistress who was not afraid or too elevated to exert herself to benefit the property.

Darcy called for the butler.

“Did Mr. Bingley have any correspondence in his pockets at the time of his…his death?”

“I know of none, sir. I shall send for his valet.”

“Thank you.”

Thankfully, Bingley’s valet brought two folded letters and one crumpled one .

Miss Bennet said, “Those are from Jane,” pointing to the folded letters.

Darcy set those aside. When he smoothed the crinkled foolscap on the desk, Miss Bennet leaned over until she could see the harsh words as clearly as he did.

He read aloud:

6 February 1813 - London

Charles,

You can be in no doubt as to why I am writing. As Louisa and I calculated, it should not be more than a month until your wife delivers the Bingley heir. You must admit by now that marrying her did you no favors. It cost you your friendship with Darcy, and society in Town has nearly forgotten you.

Therefore, my husband intends to come to your rescue. Lord Armstrong is a close associate of the Prince Regent with powerful connections that elevated us to the sphere to which we long deserved. Since his first wife delivered no live babies, my husband needs an heir to one day take over our extensive properties and the barony.

Expect our arrival in one week. We shall remain until the child is born. Indeed, the relief of not having the responsibility to raise and train a child to our standards will make this an easy transition for you. For your wife is less qualified than you to bring up a gentleman of status. We will bring the papers needed to transfer guardianship to my husband. Certainly, you see that this is for the best. Should the child be born a girl, we will return upon your wife’s next confinement.

Do this, Charles. Do not argue or whine. This is the best for everyone, mostly for the heir.

With regards,

Lady Armstrong

Miss Bennet gasped, her palm covering her mouth .

Their presumption was not to be borne!

He wanted to hurt Caroline Bingley as much as each word must have pierced Bingley’s soul. Darcy only hoped and prayed that he would never again be in her presence.

“Who does this lord think he is?” Elizabeth practically growled. “How dare he presume to rip Charlie from Bingley and Jane. This is unconscionable!”

Darcy replied, “Lord Armstrong and I have never met.”

Although he did not know the baron personally, he knew of him. Lord Armstrong thought highly of himself, excessively so, expecting that everyone without a title should bow to him. That he chose ambitious Caroline Bingley as his wife was telling. Although she was attractive in looks, the only good in her was her twenty thousand. Perhaps he was desperate for money. Was he a gambler? A frequenter of opium dens? For why else would a sensible man marry her?

Next to him, Miss Bennet shook, her eyes pressed together tightly, her lips a thin line. Relaxing his fists, he stepped away from her to regain his composure. His words rang throughout the room.

“No wonder Bingley was upset and distracted. The shrew! We will not allow them to take Bingley’s son.” Pacing, Darcy spun and faced her. “Had I known this when I sent the express this morning, I would not have asked them to come, nor would I have revealed that your sister is no longer with us.”

“You wrote to them? Did you tell them about Charlie and Clara?”

His chin dropped to his chest. “Unfortunately, I did. Now that Bingley is not here to protect the twins, particularly his son, we need to act quickly. ”

“We?” The fire in her eyes ignited. Darcy was grateful that her ire was not directed at him, at least not at that moment.

Without hesitation, he replied, “Yes, we .”