Chapter 18 Happily Ever After
Darcy rocked his baby girl in his arms. Elizabeth was sleeping peacefully in the bed beside them after a long and arduous birth. It was to be hoped he would manage to keep the babe quiet for as long as possible to allow his wife her much-needed rest.
He had sent Georgiana to bed and shooed the housekeeper, midwife, and maids out of the room to be alone with the precious bundle in his arms. He allowed a single tear that he had fought so valiantly to contain to escape its confinement.
The thought that he might have missed this miracle if he had believed his mad cousin terrified him.
But that was all in the past, and this was unfathomable happiness.
His daughter’s vivid blue eyes fluttered open, and the sweetest whimper escaped her lips. He increased the rocking, which only elicited a louder mewl.
“Do be quiet. Your dear mother needs to rest,” he pleaded with his child.
Her unfocused eyes rested on his face before her bottom lip jutted out and began quivering.
“No, no, no!” he whispered fervently.
As soon as he spoke, the lip retreated, and a serene expression yet again suffused her countenance.
She enjoyed listening to his voice. Elizabeth had mentioned something to that effect whilst the child was still in her womb.
She asserted the baby liked his voice, because it could be kicking and punching, but when he spoke, all movements ceased.
He searched his mind for something to say when the babe wailed her displeasure loud enough for Elizabeth to shift in her bed.
Time was of the essence, and he looked his daughter deeply in the eyes.
“I have dreamt this, dear Elysande.”
Elizabeth had yet to name their child, but he could not call her daughter. It felt too formal in this intimate setting, and the name felt natural.
“I have dreamt about this day, but not in this blissful state of happiness. Oh no, it was rather wretched. It was the same night my reprehensible cousin accosted your mother.”
The image of his wife giving birth to their child in a hovel with only a midwife and a young maid to help her made him shudder in revulsion. The second he went silent, her lip quivered.
“I know what would have happened if I had distrusted your dear mother, and that fate did not tempt me. One might say the repercussions of believing my cousin would have been intolerable.”
Darcy trailed his finger from Ellie’s cheek to her chin and adjusted her head so he could gaze upon her sweet face when he related the tormenting dream he had awoken from.
The chubby cheeks and alert expression calmed his soul and soothed the terrorising memories.
He gave her a summary of the dream and the vastly different outcome to the argument in the library compared to the real event.
The long separation and the struggles they had fought had resulted in a reconciliation as a decidedly different couple from what they were today.
The description of the daughter he had imagined elicited a gasp from the bed—Elizabeth was awake.
“How did you know about Elysande? Did my father tell you the story?” she enquired.
“No, is it true?” he asked in bewilderment.
“Yes!”
A chill ran down Darcy’s spine; he shuddered but could not expel the horrors of his alternative future. He had heard about dreams foretelling what was to come but had not believed it was possible—until that fateful night in the library.
“I would not have thought about Elysande had you not mentioned her, but it is the perfect name for our daughter. I shall name her Elysande Anne Darcy, to honour both our families.”
He nodded absently while a sense of dread warred within.
“How much of the story did you hear?” he asked in trepidation. “I thought you were asleep,” he added wryly.
“Everything,” Elizabeth replied lightly. “I am too exhilarated to sleep.”
“Please believe me when I swear, I never held you accountable for my cousin’s actions in reality.
His culpability has since been irretrievably proved as he flung accusations at me and boasted about becoming the master of Pemberley within his father’s earshot.
The Earl of Matlock only disregarded my involuntary sojourn beneath the floor, which he regarded as an insignificant matter—a boyish prank gone too far but nothing to be concerned about.
I disagreed, and I am sure you remember that I had it confirmed that it was indeed my depraved cousin who instigated the incident at Eton.
I wrote to one of Richard’s close friends and phrased it as a bet or something along those lines.
I even showed the earl his reply, where the accomplice boasted about a successful prank. ”
“I am grieved he did not take you seriously. But…what about his superior officer? Do you believe he killed him to advance his career?” Elizabeth wondered.
“I dare not speculate upon his motives.”
Ellie mewled, and Elizabeth waved them closer.
He rose and approached the bed, where his wife took the babe from his arms and put her to her breast. The child suckled with gusto and drank greedily.
It was fascinating how eager she was, but he would not disturb the two by sitting on the bed.
Instead, he shuffled his stiff body to the floor and knelt beside them, which afforded him the best view.
“Oh, poor Mr Elliot!” Elizabeth exclaimed whilst pursing her lips to quash a smirk. “I wonder whether we should warn the man about his future wife?”
Darcy scoffed. His own dear wife was trying to redirect his thoughts by teasing, but he too had learnt something of that nature after being married to Elizabeth for ten glorious months.
“There is nothing poor about him. He married a wealthy widow at two-and-twenty who was more than twice his age and who died within a year. I believe he would not mind adding twenty thousand pounds to his fortune and having a young and beautiful bride to boot,” he added, wiggling his brows.
“You should have married Miss Bingley and her twenty thousand pounds if you regard her as so very beautiful,” Elizabeth quipped.
Mirth was dancing in her eyes, and he could not detect an iota of diffidence or doubt. His wife’s faith and trust in him had been absolute since that December night in the library. He had thanked the Lord more times than he could count for guiding him to believe Elizabeth over his cousin.
“No, she prefers town over the country, so we would not suit,” Darcy replied evenly, fighting a tug at the corners of his mouth.
Elizabeth sucked in a swift breath.
“Is that the only reason you would not marry Miss Bingley—her penchant for town versus country?”
“Of course not. I am not in love with Miss Bingley, nor do I relish her propensity for incessant fawning. I love an impertinent handsome miss from Hertfordshire who is fond of walking and thrives in the country.”
His knees were beginning to ache from the hard floor, but he was loath to rise and miss a moment of closeness to his two ladies.
“I should call you missus, not miss. I do remember that I married you less than a year ago, on a beautiful autumn day.”
“It was raining…” Elizabeth reminded him.
As if a drizzle of rain mattered on that momentous occasion.
Nothing but a flood blocking the road to the church would have concerned him one iota.
He had married the woman who had bewitched him, body and soul.
It had been the happiest day of his life—until this day, when his daughter had enchanted him so much that he had shed tears of joy.
If not for his premonitory dream, he could have forsaken it all with a mistaken form of pride and unwarranted jealousy.
“As I said, a beautiful day because I promised to have and to hold you from that day forward. For better or for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance, and thereto I plighted thee my troth.
I have not forgotten, and I never shall. ”
“Neither have I, Fitzwilliam. You need never doubt my constancy. You see, I married wisely. I chose the best man I know. A man who has seen the world and whose mastery never ceases to amaze me. He also has a generous heart, presence of mind, and is so handsome that he is a pleasure to lay my eyes upon. And as if that were not enough for a modest country miss, he also owns a magnificent estate in the most beautiful part of England.”
Darcy smirked and blushed simultaneously.
Then he remembered something he was supposed to give his wife.
He rose, made a quick apology, and hastened to his chamber.
He opened a drawer, took out a small box, and returned promptly to his family.
Ellie had fallen asleep, and he gently lifted her into her crib before gingerly lying down beside his wife.
Her body must be aching, and jostling about must be painful.
“I have a gift for you. A small token to show my gratitude for carrying and delivering our precious child.”
Darcy offered Elizabeth the box in the palm of his hand, and she weighed it before shaking it close to her ear.
“Open it!” he demanded before chuckling at her playfulness. Even in a state of exhaustion, she brought levity to his life.
Elizabeth obeyed and tugged open the lid whilst he held his breath. She gasped and pulled out the ring.
“I have never seen coloured pearls before,” she whispered whilst studying them.
“They are extremely rare and come from the South Sea. I imagine they represent the three of us. The blue one is me, the lavender one is you, and the small pink one is Ellie.” He tried to modulate his voice so as to sound indifferent, but the truth was that he was immensely proud of finding it.
“What a lovely sentiment,” Elizabeth praised him before stifling a yawn. She pushed the ring onto her finger, and it fitted perfectly.
“Pray, sleep, my dear. I shall watch our daughter.”
“I shall try,” she agreed, already half asleep, wriggling closer.
Darcy opened his arms, and his wife settled within his embrace.
#
Soon after Ellie was born, the Bingleys tired of the unvaried society in Meryton, as one guest in particular frequently overstayed her welcome.
Bingley purchased an estate not thirty miles from Pemberley, and by the end of 1813, two Bennet sisters had moved to the midlands.
A disgruntled Miss Bingley fled the nest. She was of no mind to live so far from London’s superior society and married the heir presumptive to a baronetcy, a Mr William Elliot.