A Baby at Pemberley Page 8

  Elizabeth and Lydia released each other and Lydia looked across at the men and rubbed at her streaming eyes. "What a tear-jerker of an afternoon!" she sobbed. "I've already cried all over poor Mr. Darcy and then Colonel Fitzwilliam and now I've saturated Lizzy. I'm sure I must be dehydrated by now."

  "Well, there's one more person for you to cry over," Elizabeth said gently.

  Lydia gasped and her eyes grew so round they looked as if they might pop. "Have you brought him?"

  "Finn? Of course we did. He's outside in the carriage. I thought you might like to fetch him in."

  "Oh, yes!" Lydia whispered breathlessly and her face grew white, making the red, swollen blotches stand out even more brightly. "Oh, my goodness. Oh, crumbs, I've missed my little man so much. I'm shaking!"

  "Go on out to him," Elizabeth urged.

  "But..." Lydia frowned. "Does this mean...?"

  For a brief second, Elizabeth pressed her lips together before she smiled bravely. "It means I'm bringing him back to you, Lydia."

  "Oh, Lizzy." Lydia began to cry again as she gave her sister another fierce hug. Elizabeth pushed her away gently and Lydia took three steps across the room towards the door, but then she turned to Colonel Fitzwilliam and held out a shaking hand to him. "You come, too," she said and her eyes glowed warmly.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam hesitated. For the count of five, he stood staring at Lydia, scratching at his shirt front in a distracted way.

  Elizabeth shot Darcy a startled glance.

  Finally, Colonel Fitzwilliam blinked and said, "Sure, I'll come." And, together, he and Lydia hurried outside.

  Darcy watched Elizabeth and she turned to him, her beautiful dark eyes wide and sparkling with tears and curiosity. She stepped towards him.

  Neither spoke. Standing close together but conscious of not touching, they watched Colonel Fitzwilliam and Lydia reach the end of the path.

  The light from the inn didn't quite reach the footpath and there was no street lights nearby, so for a moment the other couple were swallowed by darkness. Then a light from the carriage came into view as Colonel Fitzwilliam opened the door.

  They saw the silhouette of Lydia's and Colonel Fitzwilliam's bodies standing close together, looking into the carriage. Then Lydia's head drooped onto Colonel Fitzwilliam's shoulder and she was trembling and Colonel Fitzwilliam's arms came around her and they were clinging to each other.

  "Oh, William," Elizabeth sobbed and she rubbed her wet face against his sleeve.

  Gently, Darcy steered her away from the window. "I don't think we should be watching what happens out there."

  They paused and Elizabeth looked up at him, her eyes filled to overflowing with emotion.

  "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

  "About my cousin and your little sister?"

  "And a little baby."

  "Who looks exactly like Colonel Fitzwilliam."

  Elizabeth shook her head as she smiled ruefully. "You and Colonel Fitzwilliam are so alike. Why didn't we think of that ages ago?"

  "Well, I have to say it did occur to me as the most likely answer, but poor Richard has been kept in the dark, so I was a bit hamstrung."

  Elizabeth shook her head. "I hope Lydia hasn't hurt him."

  "If she has, I think she wants to make amends."

  "I'm going to order some coffee," Elizabeth said quickly. "I think good strong coffee might be needed all round."

  "With perhaps a hefty slug of brandy for Colonel Fitzwilliam," Darcy suggested with a crooked grin.

  Elizabeth turned to Darcy, "I wonder how Lydia and Colonel Fitzwilliam really feel about each other."

  "They are probably right in the middle of sorting that out now."

  "Poor things," she said.

  Darcy leaned a broad shoulder against the doorjamb and one eyebrow rose. "Hopefully, they won't be poor things at all," he said. "With luck, they'll discover they're madly in love." He smiled enigmatically. "And if that's the case, they could take some time."

  Elizabeth couldn't help frowning as she moved to a table and sat down. "The problem is Lydia is rebellious."

  "And Richard is such good-mannered."

  "Yes."

  "I guess that's always been a problem for them. Solving it won't be easy." He frowned. "Speaking of problems," he said cautiously, "we've got problems of our own to sort out."

  And suddenly Elizabeth felt as if they had slammed into a brick wall—an impossible wall of pent-up emotion. The mugs of coffee were served. There was nothing else to be said about Lydia and Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  What were they doing gossiping about their sister and cousin when they had their own relationship to deal with? Not one word of reconciliation had been exchanged.

  She was suddenly nervous. She and Darcy were together and alone and yet, when they stopped talking about Lydia and Colonel Fitzwilliam, she felt they were still oceans apart.

  When she'd left Pemberley, she'd thought everything would fall into place like in a romantic novel. They would take one look at each other and fall into each other's arms. She would beg his forgiveness and he would give it gladly.

  But right now he wasn't looking very approachable. He hadn't yet sat down at the table, but remained glued against the window frame. His throat worked and his eyes pierced hers as he said, "You said you were driving into Lambton to see me."

  Nodding, she twisted her hands in front of her. She stood beside the big, old pine table that dominated the lounge while she struggled to remember her prepared speech. Gripping the back of a chair as tightly as she'd gripped the carriage door earlier, she said, "I came because I had something very important to tell you."

  One corner of Darcy's mouth tilted crookedly. "I'm here now."

  This was it. Time to deliver the speech. But it seemed so long ago that she'd left Pemberley, when her mind had been clear and focused. Everything felt different now.

  Her mouth trembled into a tiny, embarrassed smile. "I drove all the way into town to tell you—to ask you to forgive me, William. I'm so sorry I didn't trust you. I can't believe I made you go away."

  Her heart stood still as she waited for his response. He didn't rush to scoop her into his arms. He merely accepted her words with a slight nod.

  "I take some blame too," he said. "I shouldn't have gone. Once again, I allowed my pride to cloud my judgement! I should never have walked out on our marriage. Not even for a day."

  "I was so foolish, William. I—I don't blame you for walking out. I don't blame you for being mad at me. I should have trusted you."

  His eyes regarded her gently. "It's pretty hard for a marriage to survive without trust."

  Elizabeth covered her face with her hands. Now that she knew the simple truth about Colonel Fitzwilliam, she felt so ashamed of the way she'd carried on. But at the time, her fears had seemed justified.

  Lifting her head, she tried to explain. "The problem was that I knew that you would do anything to make me happy and that Pemberley needs an heir." Elizabeth sniffed and pushed a tendril of hair away from her eye. "I've realised that you're more important to me than any baby. It wouldn't matter what you had done. I need you. I love you."

  She heard his choking cry as he sat down at her side.

  "Oh, William!"

  They sat transfixed, staring at each other, their eyes searching hungrily for a sign. Elizabeth couldn't bear it. She held her arms out to Darcy, imploring him to come to her.

  And now at last he lunged forward and pulled her savagely against him. She sank against his lovely strength as he pressed his lips to her forehead. "Elizabeth, darling. Oh, sweetheart, I've missed you."

  They clung together, laughing and crying simultaneously. Darcy's mouth sought hers and his kiss was hungry, deep, happy. Bruising her, loving her. It was what she'd longed for. Their urgent, lonely bodies pressed closer and closer, heart to heart. Healing in the warmth of each other's love.

  It was so good to be in the old Lambton Inn, becoming happy again.

  Happy? Eliz
abeth was ecstatic. This was Mr. Darcy. Her Darcy.

  Could her feet possibly be touching the ground? They weren't! Darcy had lifted her high against him. Quickly, she wound her legs around his and covered his face and neck with a shower of happy kisses. She kissed the underside of his jaw, his ear lobe, his cheek, his sexy, full lower Up, then his top lip, both lips, the cleft in his chin. Another kiss for his chin.

  And Darcy was kissing her too as he held her effortlessly in his strong arms and somehow they melted together onto a chair with Elizabeth still locked against him, straddling his lap.

  With a small cry of triumph, she drew his head towards her and kissed him deeply, taking charge, holding both sides of his face and tasting him, tasting how clean and warm and so especially hers he was, glorying in the hard, masculine feel of his body, pressing him against the back of the chair, wanting him now in this public setting.

  And then she couldn't help herself. She had to push into him, feeling his body respond, hearing his ragged breathing match hers, shivering deliciously as his hands reached for her and made private explorations that seemed strangely daring and exciting, as awe-inspiring as their very first time together.

  On the explosive edge of losing her head completely, she heard footsteps nearby.

  "Oh, dear," she muttered. She was shaking a little as her head sank against Darcy's shoulder. Then she grinned and dropped another kiss on his mouth before pulling her gown into place and wriggling off his lap.

  "Mmm, that coffee smells good," came Colonel Fitzwilliam's voice from just beyond the doorway.

  Elizabeth turned to find him coming into the room smiling broadly. She wanted to rush to him and hug him. Was he as happy as she was? Uncertainty held her back. What had happened out at the carriage?

  She was suddenly afraid for her sister and she felt the kind of nervous excitement she hadn't felt since their days at Longbourn.

  "So what do you think of the baby?" she asked.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam's grin widened. "He's terrific."

  "And Lydia?"

  "I'm terrific, too," Lydia said, stepping beside Colonel Fitzwilliam. Finn was in her arms and her face was alight with joy.

  "Do you think Finn looks well?" Elizabeth asked. "I've looked after him as carefully as I could."

  "He looks wonderful," Lydia reassured her. "Better than I remembered. I'm sure he's grown. Thank you so much for everything you've done."

  Elizabeth looked fondly at the little baby boy cuddled against her sister's breast, so soft and warm...so wriggly and alert...so tiny and perfect...so helpless and yet so full of potential...

  Her eyes lingered on him, admiring again his tiny, perfect features—sleepy dark eyes, baby-fine dark hair and sweet rosy lips. If she had a baby, he would probably look just like that...

  For a moment the old pain returned. The emptiness, the longing... There was a good chance she would never be really free of that sense of loss.

  "Here, take a seat," she said quickly.

  "Thank you."

  "Well," she said and looked around at the circle of smiling faces. Smiling, silent faces. "Well, I guess I'll pour the coffee."

  There was a sustained stretch of silence, broken only by little baby snuffles from Finn and the bubbling sound of pouring coffee. While Colonel Fitzwilliam stashed the newspapers into an erratic pile on the floor, Elizabeth pushed the mugs across the scratched surface of the table. They helped themselves to milk or sugar.

  She raised an eyebrow in Darcy's direction, but he seemed to be concentrating on his coffee. Lydia was gazing at Finn, her face a picture of serenity and joy like a medieval Madonna's and Colonel Fitzwilliam's face glowed as he watched Lydia.

  Elizabeth thought she would burst.

  "If somebody doesn't say something, I might get violent," she said loudly.

  And so, of course, everybody spoke at once.

  "Nice coffee," Darcy said

  "Just what I needed," added Lydia.

  "I wonder if they have anything worth eating," mused Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  Dropping her shaking head into her hands, Elizabeth groaned.

  Then she heard Lydia's husky voice say, "I suppose you would like me to fill you in on one or two things, Lizzy."

  "I would appreciate that very much."

  She felt Lydia's hand squeeze her arm. I'm sorry. I know I've put you through a rough time. Where would you like me to start?"

  "How about you try the beginning?"

  "The beginning as in—?"

  "As in how long you and Colonel Fitzwilliam have been—," cut in Darcy. "We're presuming Colonel Fitzwilliam is Finn's father."

  Lydia shot a sultry glance in Colonel Fitzwilliam's direction and grinned. "We've been seeing each other for quite a while."

  Elizabeth gasped. "You mean ever since Wickham's passing?"

  "On and off. Richard and I met when he visited Colonel Forster in Brighton."

  "More off than on," growled Colonel Fitzwilliam.

  "Yes, well. Our differences have caused a few hiccups," Lydia admitted. She reached across the table to slip her small hand inside Colonel Fitzwilliam's beefy fist. "But now that he is free from the burden of being the younger son of an earl..."

  Elizabeth clasped her hands together. "Does this mean?"

  "It means..." Colonel Fitzwilliam beamed. "She's going to marry me at long last."

  There was such a flurry of excited cries and hugs and back-slapping that little Finn stirred and cried. So then there was a session of baby talk and soothing sounds while his milk was mixed and heated. Colonel Fitzwilliam ordered a plateful of toasted cheese sandwiches and everyone suddenly realized how hungry they were.

  Once they were munching happily and Lydia was settled and feeding Finn, she looked very purposefully at Elizabeth and then at Darcy.

  "Richard has been worried that I've done your marriage permanent damage, but I don't think I need to ask how things are with you two." Her face puckered into a smirk. "You were so busy kissing before that we had to walk back outside and come back stomping our feet before you heard us."

  Elizabeth felt herself blushing as she and Darcy exchanged self-conscious grins.

  "So I'd better explain about the baby," Lydia said softly.

  Elizabeth put her half-eaten sandwich down and her stomach jumped nervously again. "He's absolutely gorgeous," she assured her sister, rather unnecessarily.

  Lydia nodded. "He certainly is. But, honestly, I really did plan him as a gift for you two. I thought if you can't have a baby of your own, one from Colonel Fitzwilliam and me would be the next best thing—genetically speaking, of course."

  Elizabeth didn't think it was the time or the place to explain to her sister how much heartache that genetic connection had caused.

  "But," continued Lydia, "I mucked it up by not telling him what I was doing. And what I didn't expect," she added, " is the massive impact this little being would have on me. Carrying him for all that time—and the birth!" She bit her lip, looking suddenly uncomfortable. "It was a very grown-up, life-changing kind of experience," she finished and she'd never looked more serious.

  No one spoke for a moment or two. It was as if they were all taking in the fact that Lydia’s disorderly days were quite clearly behind her.

  Elizabeth realized that the past ten months had been an enlightening journey for her sister as well as for her.

  "But how do you two feel?" Lydia asked. "About handing Finn back, I mean."

  Elizabeth's and Darcy's gazes met and they smiled at each other. A sense of renewed connection left Elizabeth feeling once again the powerful force of their strong love and close understanding.

  Maybe she would never have a baby and perhaps her heart would always be faintly shadowed by a sense of loss, but she knew that at long last she could live with this loss and even, in time, rise above it.

  She felt perfectly calm as she turned back to Lydia and said, "Apart from the fact that you must have him, we're sure that we want you to have him. Finn bel
ongs with his parents."

  "Thank you so much," whispered Lydia and fresh tears began to fall. "I think your gift of—of giving my baby back—" she sobbed "—is so much harder than any effort I made."

  Standing from their chairs, the two sisters hugged. "No, darling," Elizabeth said. It's not hard for me when I know this is exactly where he belongs."

  Chapter Nine

  Darcy joined Elizabeth in the carriage ride back to Pemberley. She curled happily on the seat and occasional patches of moonlight allowed him to catch little glimpses of her face. She looked wistful and dreamy. Was she thinking about the baby she'd had for such a short time and then lost?

  With any luck she wouldn't be thinking about that at all, she'd be thinking about making love. After that heated exchange in the inn, he'd been hard pressed to think of anything else.

  He took his eyes off the road to glance at her again. "What's on your mind?"

  She didn't answer at first but then she smiled archly as she said, "I've been wondering what you thought of the gown I wore to your birthday ball."

  Darcy laughed. That would teach him to be vain. He'd been waiting for Elizabeth to tell him again how much she fancied him. Instead she wanted to hear how much he fancied her. Not that it mattered. He was more than happy to oblige.

  "You looked sensational."

  Turning her way, he saw Elizabeth's pleased, almost smug smile.

  "But that didn't stop me from seeing it coming off," he added.

  That made her sit up. "You mean you could picture yourself undressing me?"

  "Better than that. I could see myself watching you while you took it off."

  She leaned closer to him and as she draped her arm along the back of his seat her breathless little laugh sent waves of hot blood pounding through his body.

  "Tell me about it," she asked huskily. "How did I undress?"

  He couldn't help smiling. He should have guessed that Elizabeth would jump at the chance to play a teasing game while they traveled on a dark and deserted road.

  "That gown was ivory and lace, with a low-cut bodice trimmed with gold beads, was it not?" he asked.