A Baby at Pemberley Read online

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter One

  "Happy New Year, Mrs. Darcy."

  Legs entwined, Darcy and Elizabeth lay naked, their bodies warm and damp from the aftermath of their lovemaking. The chill of winter had yet to invade their bedchamber despite the fires having gone out hours ago.

  "A very Happy New Year, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth murmured as she nestled her head on his shoulder and watched the moon reach through the bay window to cast interesting patterns of light and shade on their bodies—making their torsos and legs look pale and sculpted—like marble works of art.

  She squinted at the clock on their bedside table. It was one in the morning on January first. Turning back to Darcy, she nuzzled his collar-bone. "This is going to be the best year yet, my darling."

  His splayed hand settled on her hip and, with a slow, possessive action, he traced the upward curve from her hip to her waist. "We've already made the best possible start."

  "Yes." Elizabeth grinned. "I have resolutions for the rest of the year and I mean to keep every one."

  He chuckled. "So we're going to make love like that every night?"

  Smiling, she leaned closer and nibbled at the underside of his jaw and the lobe of his ear. "I'm certainly planning to think positive," she told him.

  "About?"

  "About my life. Constructive thinking." She pushed herself up on one elbow, so she could look Darcy in the eye. "There's one thing I can definitely promise. I'm going to avoid a four letter word that begins with b and ends with y."

  "You think that's the way to go?" he asked softly and his hand reached automatically to stroke her arm as if he felt the need to keep her calm.

  "Absolutely," she said and patted his hand to reassure him that she didn't need soothing. She was perfectly calm about this. "I know these past three years have been difficult for us. Pemberley will have an heir when the time is right. I want to live in the moment. I'm going to build that new courtyard and I think I'd like to try my hand at more entertaining. Have more people here for dinners and parties."

  "You did a wonderful job at Christmas."

  "Yes, I enjoyed it. It was good to have Colonel Fitzwilliam join us, too. We don't see enough of him. I like your cousin." She smiled up at Darcy. "You know, he's almost as handsome as you and just as charming."

  "Almost as charming."

  "William, you're jealous."

  "Too right."

  "Well—the Colonel is almost as nice as you are," she said with a grin. "But actually, I must admit, he can be a bit gruff at times."

  "How do you mean?"

  "When I asked him if he had made Lydia's acquaintance in Brighton, he became very taciturn."

  Darcy laughed. "That sister of yours is likely to make most fellows think twice before they speak."

  "I suppose so," she agreed. "Anyhow, speaking of families, part of my plan is to look at things the way our tenants do."

  "Really? In what way?"

  "Well, they survive by working with nature rather than against it."

  Darcy nodded and drew her back to snuggle against him. Dropping a kiss on her forehead, he yawned. "You're being very philosophical for this time in the morning."

  "Bear with me," she chided gently. "I've nearly finished. What I'm saying is, you must endure the leaner years so you can be there for the good times."

  "And the good times will come, Elizabeth."

  "I know. I know they will."

  "So go to sleep now."

  Only a few days into April, the wet season arrived with a vengeance and stayed for nearly the entire month. With so much rain, work couldn't start on Elizabeth's courtyard, but, nevertheless, she started planning and designing. Darcy knew she was very talented.

  Just the same, doubt weighed heavily on his conscience. But he began to relax as he saw how happy his wife was these days. This new project brought dancing lights sparkling in her fine eyes. Each evening her face glowed with genuine excitement as she showed him the progress she'd made with her plans.

  It wasn't until her birthday rolled around that Elizabeth found it difficult to keep negative thoughts from creeping in. She knew she should be feeling on top of the world. Darcy bought her the most beautiful earrings in London for her birthday. Teardrop pearls set with garnets.

  She did her best to hide from him the fact that she was feeling a bit down, but it was hard to keep things from Mrs. Reynolds.

  "What's the matter, ma'am?" the housekeeper asked, when she found Elizabeth in the drawing room looking morbid.

  "Oh, Mrs. Reynolds, I'm just being silly and female and starting to worry about my age."

  "Lord, dearie," Mrs. Reynolds scoffed. "It's too early for you to worry about that. Why, you're not as old as Mr. Darcy and he's only turning thirty this year."

  "Men like Darcy just get more distinguished-looking and gorgeous each year. And they can stay fertile till they're almost geriatric!" Elizabeth was about to let out a tired sigh when suddenly she beamed at Mrs. Reynolds. "Thirty! You've just given me the best idea. I'm getting better at playing hostess so I'm going to give Darcy a huge ball for his birthday in October."

  "Thirty is something of a landmark year," Mrs. Reynolds agreed. "That would be nice. Real nice."

  "We have stacks of time to plan it."

  "And you've got the work started on your new courtyard and the gardens. They should be looking beautiful by then."

  "Yes," said Elizabeth, picking up a notepad, eager to start making notes. "Yes. It's a great idea."

  At Easter, Elizabeth and Darcy were invited to the christening of Georgiana's first born. Darcy's sister had been married only four short months when she announced her pregnancy. At the last moment, Elizabeth decided not to attend, citing a headache that made it too difficult for her to get away.

  "Little James looked very sweet in the clothes you bought in Lambton," Darcy recounted to Elizabeth when he returned home from the church.

  "I wonder if I'll be forgiven for missing the service?" she asked and he saw the sudden wary darkness that shadowed her beautiful face.

  "Of course you will," he assured her.

  He wanted very much for her to believe him. She had to believe him. It was unhealthy for her to go on like this always feeling remorseful.

  Summer progressed and brought warmer, harsher weather. It was the time of the year when Elizabeth worked harder than ever in her garden. At her request, the gardener had spread many barrow-loads of manure and hay for mulching.

  By July, her roses and vegetables were flourishing so well that she was approached about opening her garden to the public.

  "Not only can I share my garden with others," Elizabeth told Darcy, "but I can propagate plants that do well in this district and sell the seedlings and the cuttings I've struck."

  She thrust handwritten pages into his hand. "I thought I could make a little brochure with some of my gardening tips as well. "Tips for a Beautiful Garden—or something like that. What do you think?"

  He pulled her in close and kissed her just below her ear and murmured, "How about just... Beautiful Gardener?"

  Elizabeth loved living in Derbyshire in the autumn. The mornings were so cool and crisp. When she had finished writing letters to her parents at Longbourn and her sister Jane at Netherfield Park, she liked to go sit and watch Darcy training his horses near the stables.

  If Darcy saw her there, he tended to show off and she loved it. It was rather delicious to watch her husband and his horse working together, lea
ping sideways across the countryside, the two of them turning fluidly like choreographed dancers.

  He rode his favorite horse, Sparrow, a fine stock horse descended from the line his forebears had bred. She knew that Darcy's grandfather had ridden one of Sparrow's ancestors after he had purchased Pemberley.

  But thinking about the long history of Darcy's family on this property made her desperately sad. There might not be another generation of Darcys...

  But there certainly wasn't a shortage of Bingleys in England! Elizabeth's oldest sister Jane was happily settled with Charles Bingley and their twin boys in Hertfordshire. No doubt any day soon there would be a third bundle of joy on the way. Elizabeth could not have been more pleased for them.

  It was her youngest sister Lydia, however, that she hadn't heard from at all since last December. Darcy tried to reassure her that it wasn't unusual. Lydia was always unpredictable. She would turn up again—out of the blue—taking them completely by surprise.

  But she was concerned that her sister hadn't replied to any of her letters. Lydia's circumstances had changed drastically over the past year. She was now a widow. Her husband George Wickham had died in a drunken duel, leaving Lydia to make her own way. Her mother and father were vague about Lydia, too, but she got the distinct impression that at least they had heard from her.

  They fobbed her off with comments about Lydia being fine and that her position as Mrs. Forster's companion in Brighton had kept her incredibly busy.

  Elizabeth was busy, too, and the months slipped by so easily that she was surprised to realize it was September already. Only a month till Darcy's birthday!

  She began to feel a little nervous. She'd had several successful dinner parties during the year but hosting a ball would be very different. Nevertheless this ball was something she really wanted to do for Darcy.

  The invitations went out and replies came back with pleasing promptness. People were coming from all over the district.

  What really amazed her was that she managed to keep the party a surprise. She thanked heavens for Mrs. Reynolds! They arranged for the mail to be delivered to the housekeeper's cottage so they could take out the replies before the rest of the mail was sent up to Pemberley. Darcy didn't have any suspicions.

  When it came to planning the catering, Mrs. Reynolds was a huge help there, too. She and Elizabeth settled on the menu for the dinner—cold seafood salad, shallot and artichoke tarts, braised veal shanks, lovely, big legs of lamb marinated in fresh rosemary, thyme and red wine.

  Mrs. Reynolds offered to make her special pear bread pudding for dessert and her nieces volunteered to come in from Bakewell to give them a hand on the day of the party.

  The best part about so much busyness was that it helped Elizabeth to realize what she'd always known deep down. There were many ways to be happy and fulfilled without being a mother.

  She felt she'd learned a great deal about herself in the past nine months.

  Chapter Two

  What was that?

  Foggy with sleep, Darcy's head shot up from his pillow as he tried to make sense of the noises he was sure he'd heard outside.

  He was certain a vehicle had just come to a screeching halt at the front of the house.

  Yes! As he listened, his ears caught the distinctive squeak of a carriage door opening.

  Frowning, he swung out of bed and in two strides crossed the room. He pulled the curtain aside and peered through the pre-dawn murkiness in the direction of the sound, but the angle of the house blocked his view.

  Just then he heard a second squeak—another door opening. He glanced towards the bed and spared a quick half-smile for Elizabeth, who was still sound asleep, sprawled on her back with one arm flung over her face.

  Grabbing his robe from a nearby chair, he hurried out of the bedroom, dragging it on as he went.

  But he'd only made it halfway down the stairs when he heard doors slamming shut again and a group of horses coming to life once more. He raced to the front door and dragged it open.

  Too late.

  A dusty coach was already disappearing down the track leading away from Pemberley. Darcy had a brief glimpse of its rear lights before they were swallowed up by the avenue of tall oaks.

  He stood on the veranda, staring after it, scratching his bare chest in a bleary-eyed, half-asleep daze.

  Good Lord! What was going on?

  He looked up and down the veranda to see if the caller had left anything and blinked suddenly. He'd almost missed it at first, but there was a bulky, dark shape behind one of the stone pillars near the front steps.

  It was a curious, unrecognizable shape. Frowning, he edged cautiously towards it. His staff knew to leave packages at the backdoor. Two steps closer and his heart was thumping. "Oh!" There was something alive. It moved.

  He took another step.

  Then he hunkered down closer, his throat dry with apprehension. It was too shadowy to see intricate details, but he could recognize the shape of a tiny human hand waving in front of him.

  A baby.

  Was this a joke?

  As his eyes adjusted to the thin light of early dawn, Darcy peered more closely and made out the outlines of a bassinet and a carry bag beside it. And there was a piece of paper pinned to one of the bag's handles.

  Suddenly the little form in the basket let out a dreadful wail. A loud, gut-wrenching, pitiful cry. And Darcy's stomach sank.

  Bloody hell!

  Reaching out a tentative hand, he patted the little round bundle. He could feel a soft wool blanket and something small and squirming beneath it. "Hello," he whispered. "Take it easy."

  The wails grew louder.

  Desperate, Darcy shot a pleading glance across the lawn to the spot where the front driveway disappeared into the trees. Maybe, by some miracle, the driver would realize there'd been a dreadful mistake and at any minute the coach would come racing back down the track to reclaim this abandoned child.

  But he didn't like the chances.

  The baby's cries were getting louder. They bordered on ear-splitting now.

  He was gathering the courage to pick the baby up when a hand touched his shoulder.

  "William, what on earth's going on?"

  He turned and gaped at Elizabeth. Dressed in a striped dressing gown, she was standing behind him, her brown eyes huge in her pale face. For a minute he thought she might faint, she looked so pale and shocked.

  He swallowed. "It's a baby."

  "I kind of gathered that, but what's it doing here?" she whispered.

  "I'm not feeling too bright at the moment, but my guess is someone's dumped it on our doorstep."

  The baby screamed and Darcy shot a helpless look Elizabeth's way. He felt more at home facing a charging horse than a shrieking baby.

  "The poor little thing!" She swooped forward and picked it up. Within seconds, she was holding a little blue bundle against her shoulder, jigging it with little up-and-down motions and making shushing sounds.

  She kissed its cheek and murmured softly, "There, there. Hush, don't cry. You'll be alright."

  To Darcy's relief, after she'd paced up and down for a minute or two, the screams began to subside and eventually they quieted into subdued hiccups.

  "Thank heavens one of us knows what to do," he murmured.

  A triumphant light shone in Elizabeth's eyes as she looked at him and said, "What a darling, good little baby." She glanced at the bassinet and bag. "I guess we should take all this inside and see what we can find out."

  As soon as they reached the drawing room, Darcy brought over a light and scanned the note. A wave of shock blasted through him. "Hell," he muttered.

  "What?"

  "It's Lydia's."

  Elizabeth frowned. "What's Lydia's?" Then, after a gasp of disbelief, she added, "Not the baby?"

  "Yes. That's what this note says. This is your sister's child."

  "Read it to me," Elizabeth ordered, her voice suddenly sharp with tension.

  But Darcy was
already halfway across the room, heading for the door. "I'm going after her," he muttered. "She won't have driven very far and this is utterly ridiculous. She cannot do this to us."

  "William!" cried Elizabeth. "You can't just race off after my sister and leave me like this!"

  He paused in mid-stride and looked back at Elizabeth and his heart plunged. She was clutching the baby to her chest as if she was terrified it would be snatched away at any minute. Her eyes were wide with panic.

  A painful flash of insight descended. Where were his brains?

  A baby had arrived at Pemberley. A baby for Elizabeth. A longed-for, cherished dream come true. Apparently...her sister's gift.

  Whoa, there, Darcy. Time to think.

  This moment presented a deeply emotional crisis for his wife.

  Hands on hips, he stood in the middle of the drawing room, and stared at the oriental carpet, while his mind spun. If he dashed after Lydia and demanded that she take the baby back, he would be responding on a very simplistic level to a deeply complicated situation.

  Chances were he'd have two angry women on his hands!

  "Please tell me what the letter says," Elizabeth urged.

  "Of course." He opened the crumpled paper in his hand and began to read.

  "Dear Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. Here he is. My little gift to you. I've called him Phineas. Finn for short. I hope you like the name. He was born on September the fifth."

  Darcy looked across at Elizabeth and shook his head. "He's only three weeks old!" he said. "It's ridiculous! Mad!"

  "Keep reading!" she said tightly.

  He cleared his throat.

  "I'm so thrilled to be able to give you the baby you've longed for, Lizzy. I know you will love him and be a wonderful mother. And Mr. Darcy, belated Happy Father's Day."

  He let out an impatient groan before reading on.

  "Clothes, milk and everything else Finn needs for the first few weeks are in the bag. After that, I'm sure you'll work out what you need. Your loving sister, Lydia. P.S. Don't try to find me. I'm going to be out of contact for a while. Once the shock wears off, you'll be fine."

  When he finished reading, Elizabeth stared at him. It was some time before she spoke. "I can't believe she did it," she whispered finally. "Lydia had a baby for me."