Without Undue Pride

Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

It had taken half the day to get to Lord Milton’s home in Peterborough. Elizabeth had seen little of Milton Hall, however. Upon arriving days ago, they had held her in a fine set of apartments. A footman was outside her door, barring her exit. A maid brought and removed a large tray of food twice a day, and Edward was brought to her every four hours to nurse and was then removed from the room.

She was in a well-appointed prison.

For the first two days, she spent her energy banging on the door, screaming as loud as she could, demanding her son until she collapsed from exhaustion. The first few times Edward was brought to her, she had refused to relinquish him, and two footmen had to pin her down and pull her screaming infant from her hands.

Her arms still had bruises in the shape of their fingers.

Now, days later, she no longer fought when they removed Edward. It was too distressing for him to have their only interaction end in tears and shrieks and violence. Now, she inconvenienced Lord Milton at night. It was easy for him to avoid her noise during the day when all were busy and he was on a different level of the house. But in the evening when he was asleep, or trying to, she made his life difficult.

Once it was quiet and she suspected Lord Milton had retired, Elizabeth resumed kicking the door and shouting. She yelled for Lord Milton by name to bring her son. At some point in the night, she had sunk to her knees by the door and drifted off to a light sleep.

Elizabeth started awake, not knowing what time it was, when the door opened. One maid carried a tray, and another brought Edward. She thought it was now Tuesday, the twenty-sixth, but it was becoming harder to keep track of the days. As she fed him, half asleep and still on the floor, she wondered why Lord Milton had gone to the trouble of allowing her to come.

Her poor son was removed again, and as she leant against the wall, someone pushed past the departing maid and entered the room.

“I grow weary of your yelling, madam.”

Elizabeth looked up at the sound of Lord Milton’s voice. She heard the door shut behind him. The footman guarding the door must have closed it.

“Let my son stay with me and I will stop yelling,” Elizabeth said as she slowly rose.

“Your child is here and is safe,” he snapped. “He does not need to nurse, and that is your only purpose at present. If you choose to be agreeable, you may stay at Milton Hall. If you continue to carry on, you will leave, but the infant remains here.”

“I am his mother!” Her voice was hoarse from days of yelling.

Lord Milton lifted his eyes. “Maternal bonds do not stand up in a court of law.”

She could provoke him in return. Elizabeth had sensed how Lord Milton cared only for his future rank and all the trappings that went along with it. “He is only your heir presumptive,” she muttered. “You have not even inherited yet yourself. Your viscount title is a mere courtesy.”

Lord Milton’s eyes flashed. Wealth and titles were all that mattered to him, and it infuriated her that this man, whom her husband distrusted, had a legal claim to her child and she did not.

“You forget yourself,” he said coldly. “You have no money, no property, no connexions, and no will naming you custodian, and the law requires a man to look after the child’s finances and education. ”

She felt exhausted as she crossed her arms. “Why do you care when you despise both of us?”

He gave a little smirk. “I am caring for my brother’s widow, as he would have wanted me to.”

Elizabeth gave a dark laugh. “No, your brother loved me. The last thing he would have wanted was to commit his son to your care.”

Lord Milton tilted his head. “I doubt he loved you, pretty though you are.”

“Why would Fitzwilliam marry a poor woman if not from affection?”

“A threat to mortality forces men to consider convenient marriages with unsuitable girls.”

Elizabeth tried not to let her countenance show how much that wounded her. She had often wondered how much truth there was to that, no matter how sincere Fitzwilliam’s love for her had been. “Your opinion on his ‘unsuitable’ marriage did not matter to him. That must have affronted you.”

Lord Milton gave her a look up and down. She instantly distrusted it. “My brother displayed more feeling than prudence in marrying you, but such a woman was not entirely a poor choice.”

“Such a woman?” she said, feeling more offended with each passing moment.

“Women who are not gently born are often more…robust.”

“Not gently—” She felt herself colour from astonishment and disdain. “My father is a gentleman. I am a gentleman’s daughter.”

“You have not a single titled relation,” he said with all the contempt she expected from him. “And uncles in trade.”

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. She was allowing Milton to make her defensive. It did not matter what he thought of her. What mattered was that she had her son. “Why do you want to raise Edward as your son, to be your heir, and keep me here if you have such a loathing for both of us?”

“My heir?” He drew back. “Indeed not,” he said, pacing around the room. “No, I told you in June that no son of my brother’s will ever inherit the Fitzwilliam title and estates. ”

A sickening feeling overtook her. If she had eaten anything, she would have thrown it up. Glowering at him, she said, “I will burn down this house and everyone in it if you harm Edward.”

Lord Milton folded his arms over his chest. “What sort of gothic literature do you think yourself a part of, madam? I am not about to kill an infant, no matter who its mother is. He will not inherit because I will have a son of my own.”

She was exhausted and afraid, and Lord Milton was talking in circles as he insulted her. “Then why are we here?” she asked, falling into a chair.

“We both know you want to stay near your son, so you may as well stop shrieking at all hours. I could throw you out at any moment. To speak plainly, your son is here for me to use to my advantage. I have a specific purpose for you, and so long as your son is here, you will agree to my terms.”

“What terms?” she rasped, taking a drink of tea.

Lord Milton’s shoulders lowered, as though finally at ease. “You are an unsuitable woman in nearly every way, but you did deliver a healthy boy, and seem to have recovered from childbed well. You are not still ill in body or in spirits, so it is likely you could do it again.”

Elizabeth blinked slowly. “And?”

He scoffed. “You are not clever. It is a good thing you are handsome.”

Rather than ask again, Elizabeth went through the motions of eating breakfast. Without looking at him, she could feel his affront, his indignation at being ignored, and hid a smile. He wanted his rank, his importance, noticed. He wanted to be asked, so she would pay no attention to him and wait for him to tell her whatever it was he wanted from her.

She heard him inhale deeply through his nose, and she wondered if he would begin shouting. After another moment, he said, “My wife has been unable to deliver a second child. It is as though something has happened to her blood since my daughter was born and now she cannot carry another child. She is a failure, and that failure weighs on her. ”

“A failure?” she could not help but cry. “What an insult to your wife.”

Lord Milton’s eyes filled with pain, but she could not muster an ounce of pity for whatever caused it. “An insult? I am doing this for her as much as for myself. She is weary in body and mind after losing child after child. She would rejoice if I gave her a son of mine to raise as her own. It would end all of her suffering if she no longer had to conceive.”

Her fingers went numb, and she set down her fork. He had already said Edward would not be raised as his heir. “Where is this son of yours coming from if not your wife?” she asked, with creeping alarm.

Lord Milton stared at her with an emphatic look.

She felt a degree of horror she could not conceal. “You want to sleep with me until I conceive a boy?” she cried, rising from the table and backing away.

He nodded. “You will then travel with my wife, deliver the child, hand it over to her, and she will raise it as though it were her own. No one will know its mother is such a woman as you.”

“And why would I just hand over my child to you?”

“In return for my brother’s son. You cannot want to keep a child of mine, of course.”

Elizabeth shook her head at his reasoning. “And your plan is a good one, unless I conceive a girl. Then I am a widow with a child out of wedlock and will bring a scandal into your family, because you cannot think I would keep quiet about such an odious plan!”

He gave her a look as though he thought her stupid. “My wife would raise a girl as well. We have already discussed it. As many girls as it takes to have a boy. I already have one daughter, and my wife is willing and able to love others.”

“Why on earth would Lady Mary agree to this?” she whispered. “Have you no respect for her? How could she countenance such an offence as you having children with another woman?”

“I need a son!” he barked. “She conceives and loses several babies a year. I am doing this to get a son and to spare her further heartache. Miscarrying again and again is breaking her body as much as her spirit. She would die to give me a son, but I prefer this arrangement.”

“So with your wife’s blessing, I am to share a bed with you for however long it takes, however many daughters are born, to give you a son you can pass off as your wife’s?”

“And in return for a son of my own, my brother’s son can return to whatever ignoble life you have for yourselves in Leicester. I will even go to the courts and say that while I am his guardian, you will have sole custody of the child.”

Elizabeth felt absolutely incredulous. “And what about all these daughters I am bearing for you? This future heir? Am I to just abandon them forever, like it is nothing?”

His brow furrowed. “Yes. Why would you want them?”

He did not understand a woman’s heart, a mother’s heart. Snapping that tenderest of ties by ripping these future children from her, no matter who their father was, was a cruelty. But Lord Milton would never see it that way. Women and children were mere things to him, a means to a selfish end.

She sat there, shaking her head, in complete disbelief that he could even think of such a plan, let alone speak it aloud.

“If you do not agree to the terms,” he said, “the constable will remove you from my home. You will be taken back to Leicester and you will never see your son again. The law is not on your side, even if you were not friendless and poor. My brother never named you custodian of his child, and so the infant is mine if you refuse.”

Elizabeth buried her face in her hands.

“It is a fair agreement,” he added, “considering your situation in life. One son for another.”

She might have accepted Darcy’s love and loyalty when it was offered, and together they would have had the legal standing to challenge Lord Milton for Edward. Now look what she had been sunk to because of her stubbornness and fear. What would she be willing to endure to keep her child with her?

Heavy tears fell on her cheeks.

How could she agree? She could never sacrifice her dignity and submit to such an evil scheme. But to leave this house without Edward in her arms was impossible. Could she consent for the present until she found a way to escape with her son? Lord Milton could legally take Edward, and had the money and influence to pursue her to the ends of the earth if she ran. Still, she would have to try. How could she endure allowing Lord Milton to use her body? And what if she conceived a child before she escaped with Edward? Giving any child to Lord Milton was also impossible.

How could she speak the words into the world? She would have to say that she agreed to have any chance of escaping with Edward.

“If,” she said, her voice shaking, “if I agreed, I could not begin soon. Edward is too young.”

Lord Milton banged a hand on the table, rattling the dishes and making her jump. “You are in no position to make demands,” he said. A noise on the lawn caught his attention, and he looked toward the window, but did not cross the room to see. “I need a son, and this could take years if you produce a girl first.”

“But what about my baby?” she asked, swallowing thickly.

“I will hire a nurse for him, and he will stay here this winter. I must be in town, and so you will join me there, along with my wife. Once it is clear you are increasing, you and she will go somewhere to have my son. She will return with a boy, and then you can have your son back.”

“I will not leave Edward for so long.”

Lord Milton gave an uncomprehending look. “You have no power in this arrangement. I will return him to your keeping after I have a son!”

They stared at one another until they both heard raised voices outside, getting louder as they climbed the stairs. Lord Milton turned from her at the sound of scuffling in the hall.

The door was thrown open so hard that it slammed against the wall. Elizabeth jumped to her feet in alarm. Sensations of shock filled her as Darcy strode into the room. He looked all around, and then locked eyes with her. To some, he might appear outwardly calm, but she knew better. His eyes were filled with rage, and his fury showed in his voice when he said to Milton, “Where is her child?”

Lord Milton inhaled a long breath as though gathering patience. “I know you and my brother walked into each other’s homes like they were your own, but you and I do not have such a relationship.”

“Where is he?” he said slowly, through gritted teeth.

“If you mean my nephew, of whom I am rightful guardian, he is safe.”

Darcy took a few steps into the room, never taking his eyes from his cousin. “How dare you?”

“How dare I what?” he shot back.

“You entered a woman’s home and took her infant, like some sort of thief.”

“In case you failed to notice that woman,” Lord Milton said, pointing at her, “she came willingly and brought her son with her.”

Darcy looked at her, and Elizabeth tried to project with her eyes that, while she came, it was under duress. Darcy turned back to Milton, saying, “A mother has the right to her child when no other guardian exists to supersede her. You chose to interfere, but you do not give a damn about her or your nephew. Why take them?”

“The son of an earl, heir to title and fortune, brother to the father, is more fit to be guardian than a poor widow, a woman whose own husband could not be troubled to name her custodian.”

“He has threatened to—” she began.

“Do not interrupt,” shouted Lord Milton. “You are a woman, and a person of lower rank and dignity. The men are talking.”

She was so shaken that she lost the ability to speak. Darcy stepped nearer to Milton. There was a coldness in his tone she had never heard before. “Never mind. It does not matter why you took them because I am leaving with both of them. Now.”

“Darcy, you overstep your place,” Lord Milton cried. “A father has legal power over his minor children. This power of the father continues even after his death, for he may by his will appoint a guardian. But this woman’s husband did not. I am that man’s brother and will care for this child. And she consented to remain, not that it is any concern of yours.”

Elizabeth was certain she would die of mortification if Darcy learnt she had been considering Lord Milton’s terrible deal.

Darcy had been staring at Milton before he turned his face to hers. He shot her a single blazing look; the one he had been giving his cousin. No one could have looked into his face now and not felt a quiver of fear. “She looks terrified. Whatever she agreed to, she did it only for the sake of her child.”

“The child is not in danger of harm from me. I am not even separating a child of tender age from its mother. She has agreed to stay. Nothing will interfere with my legal right to the infant. Now, get out of my house before I involve the law!”

Darcy gave a chilling smile. “You were right: a father has legal power over his minor children, even after his death.” He reached into his pocket and held out a large folded sheet. “Read it.”

Lord Milton clasped his hands behind his back. “You have one minute to get out of my house before I send for my footmen and a constable!”

He kept his hand outstretched. “I said read it.” While still boring a hole into his cousin with his eyes, Darcy said to her, “I discovered your husband’s last will and testament.”

While Elizabeth cried out in disbelief, something in Darcy’s dark tone compelled Lord Milton to huff and snatch the sheet from his hand. He unfolded it and started. He cleared his throat and said, “This only says that his wife is entitled to his goods and property, not that he left her any.”

“Keep reading.”

Elizabeth was certain that if Darcy used that tone with her, she would be in tears, but Lord Milton only stared defiantly.

She could stand it no longer. “What does it say?” she cried.

Darcy said to Lord Milton, “You refuse to read it aloud? Very well. I committed it to memory. The third paragraph says, ‘I absolutely rely and depend on my wife Elizabeth Fitzwilliam providing for and taking care of my child to the best of her power. In confidence thereof, I hereby give, devise, and bequeath to the aforesaid Elizabeth absolute custody of my child.’”

She felt such a relief that she nearly fainted. She had to grip the table to keep herself upright. “Whom did he name as guardian?” she whispered. Her husband could have given guardianship to Lord Milton, who could still work through the courts to have Edward removed from her care. As guardian, he would always have control over his education and where he could live, every important decision.

Lord Milton held a tight grip on the sheet, scowling at it, but had yet to say a word. She looked at Darcy, who still glared at his cousin, as though by the power of his own will he might compel him to read it. When Lord Milton refused to answer her, Darcy said, “The next line says, ‘I appoint as testamentary guardians of my child my cousin Fitzwilliam Darcy and my father-in-law Thomas Bennet.’”

Elizabeth gave a sob while Darcy said to Lord Milton, “My favourite sentence is the next one, that says under no condition should his father or his brother become guardians of his child or trustees of his child’s finances if I or his father-in-law predecease his minor child.”

Lord Milton cursed under his breath and then looked at the fireplace and its burning coals. Elizabeth hurried around the table to stop him, but Darcy, who was much nearer, only said calmly, “Go ahead. That is a copy. I took the original to the Court of Chancery last week. It was signed, witnessed, and is now stamped and filed, Milton, so whatever you intended will never happen.”

“You have done more harm than good today, Darcy!” his cousin shouted. “The fate of the earldom?—”

“Is not my concern. I am also named executor, so I am here to execute Fitzwilliam’s will. I am leaving with Mrs Fitzwilliam and her child.” In a slow, cold voice, he said, enunciating each word, “Where is he?”

Lord Milton avoided Darcy’s eye and thrust out the will. Darcy snatched it back while Lord Milton said, “In the nursery, up one flight of stairs.”

Darcy turned to the door. “Miss Adkins?” Shock upon shock continued as Rebeckah peered around the corner, eyes wide. “Find Master Edward and bring him to his mother.” Elizabeth heard her steps running down the corridor. Was this ordeal now over? Was she really going to leave with her son and with every right to keep him?

Before Elizabeth could thank Darcy, he had returned his attention to his cousin. “I don’t know what you wanted to accomplish,” he said quietly, “but whatever it was, it will never happen.”

“You would not be so proud of yourself if you understood the responsibilities of being titled.”

“Your brother ensured whatever you were doing here today did not happen, not me. And any true gentleman would have a greater duty to honour than to a title.”

“Of course you would say that,” Lord Milton spat. “You are not titled, nor are you married. You could never understand.”

It was plain from Darcy’s expression that he did not. “What I understand is that there is unlimited power in the hands of men and husbands. You would rather be master of a woman than be her friend.”

“A man who acts otherwise is weak.”

“Weak?” repeated Darcy evenly. “What about a man so obsessed with inheritance and titles that he would pull a baby from its mother’s arms?”

Lord Milton sneered. “How odd for someone occupied with duty and honour to champion a woman who agreed to be my whore if it meant she could stay here with her son.”

A muscle in Darcy’s jaw twitched, but otherwise, he did not react.

Elizabeth’s throat was raw, and now tears welled in her eyes. To have Darcy think that of her was intolerable. “Darcy, that is not?—”

He did not hear her. He had already stepped in front of Lord Milton so they were now eye to eye. His cousin had flinched as though afraid he might be struck, but Darcy never raised his hand. He said, in a low voice, “You are the worst representative of the word ‘gentleman.’ For revenge, or ambition, pride, lust, or profit, you would descend to base and vile action.”

Some men grew loud when they became angry. They raised their voice. They slammed down a book. They yelled or said cruel things. Darcy grew quiet. There was an alarming stillness to him. There was a heaviness in his tone, but he was not loud. His quiet, controlled rage was frightening.

Lord Milton seemed to feel it, and stalked to the other side of the room, turning his back to them. Rebeckah entered carrying Edward, and Elizabeth ran forward and plucked him from her arms and held him close.

“Mrs Fitzwilliam, are you ready to leave?” Darcy asked her, still watching Lord Milton. She could not speak, but nodded vigorously. Darcy gestured to the door, and he left the room without a parting word to his cousin.

When they were at Darcy’s carriage, Elizabeth noticed there was a second hired post chaise, filled with men from Pemberley. Darcy had prepared to take Edward by force if his cousin did not relent. Rebeckah held Edward while she got in Darcy’s coach before handing him to her and joining the driver. Darcy watched with an inquiring expression on his face as he climbed in after her, and she wondered if he had wanted to hold him.

She closed her eyes and held Edward tight. Someday he could, but not now. No one was taking Edward from her. Her husband had trusted her enough to keep their child, and Darcy had gone to great lengths to ensure that would happen.

There were many things to say, and he must have questions. She had questions herself, like how had he found her and where had he discovered the will? But when she tried to speak, she cried, from fear and relief and gratitude and fatigue.

For at least a mile, she cried and held her child. “Thank you,” she choked out.

There was nothing else she felt capable of saying yet. Their eyes met across the carriage, and Darcy smiled. That was enough for now.