A Child for Elizabeth Read online

  A Child

  For Elizabeth

  A Pride and Prejudice Possibility

  Carrie Mollenkopf

  Additional titles by Carrie Mollenkopf

  A Gentleman Scorned

  The Redemption of Caroline Bingley

  The Vocation of Mary Bennet

  The Soulmate of Kitty Bennet

  The Stubborn Pride of Lydia Bennet

  Lizzie Bennet’s Choice

  Elizabeth of Pemberley

  Matchmaking at Pemberley

  Darcy’s Heart

  Preserving Pemberley

  Refusing Mr. Collins

  Portraits of Pemberley

  The Transformation of Georgiana Darcy

  In the Shadows of Pemberley

  A Time for Elizabeth

  Mary of Longbourn Series

  Mary Bennet and the Longbourn Heiress

  Mary Bennet and the Longbourn Tutor

  Mary Bennet and the Return of the Soldier

  Mary Bennet and the Substitute Vicar

  ~One~

  Pemberley 1818,

  Elizabeth Bennet Darcy sat alone in her private morning room contemplating her plans for the following week. It had been five years since her marriage, and she and her husband had fallen into an unofficial tradition of creating a series of small surprises to celebrate the occasion. More often than not, the surprises turned out the be jokes of the worst kind, but they loved it. Never ones for large crowds, they had preferred privacy to sharing, even with immediate family. So far, it had been nothing short of heavenly as they grew to know each other in ways that most married couples never did. Thiers was a love match in a time when marriages were often more of a business arrangement. The only missing element to such a perfect union was the lack of a child. Both she and Darcy wanted children, but as of yet, this happiness was not to be bestowed. As the owner of one of the largest estates in England, Fitzwilliam Darcy required an heir to take up the reins of Pemberley for the next generation.

  “This place is far more than just my home; it is an entity of its own and deserves a person who will care for it with great devotion.”

  To this declaration, Elizabeth could but only agree, for she knew first-hand the perils of mismanagement. Her own father, having inherited an estate of modest means, had done little to improve it beyond basic maintenance. This neglect was often attributed to having no male children to which he could pass it on. As a result, Longbourn was little more than a decaying heap of stones, more of a burden than blessing to be deposited upon her cousin William. Despite its condition, the fact that neither she, nor her sisters could inherit the family home was a source of irritation. Laws favored men in all ways. Even if a lady was in possession of her own funds, rarely did she have complete control over its disposal. This thought had often occupied her on the times when the possibility of a pregnancy presented. So much did it cause worry that Elizabeth had begun to believe that her anxiety of the prospective child’s gender had caused her lack of fertility. Of this, she had never spoken, not to anyone, but it was obvious that the longer they remained childless the more it worried her husband. Darcy, ever the epitome of kindness and consideration, had never voiced any sort of opinion. But Elizabeth knew him all too well to believe he was unbothered by the situation. This was only further exacerbated by the regular announcements of her sister’s arrivals. Having four sisters in total, only one remained presently unmarried, but even plain, pious Mary had become recently engaged. To date, her parents had been blessed with half a dozen grandchildren. Her eldest sister, Jane, bearing twin boys within a year of her marriage. Elizabeth could only stand by and be the doting aunt, sending congratulations and baby items, but not share in the experience herself. She had even gone so far as to consult a London doctor without Darcy’s knowledge. The assessment, while encouraging, had done little to solve her predicament.

  “You are young and healthy, there is no history of any sort of malady that might cause problems. Sometimes these things just take time… and practice,” the Harley street physician had insisted.

  Grumbling to herself, Elizabeth had simply thanked him and left. “Practice more? That is all we ever do!” she snapped once inside the privacy of her carriage. It was not anger that prompted her outburst, for Darcy was all that she could ever want in a lover. It was disappointment, perhaps if a medical name could be applied to her barrenness, it would be easier to bear?

  That had been some months ago, but as of yet, there had been no sign of any pregnancy. Forcing a smile, she daydreamed of how she would eventually tell Darcy of an impending arrival. She imagined his elation….and then caution. He would treat her like a piece of porcelain and probably insist she remain in bed the entire time. In observation of her sisters, Elizabeth knew that men did strange things when their wives were expecting and most of it was pure foolishness.

  “It is out of fear, Lizzie,” Jane Bennet Bingley had confided after the arrival of her third child.

  “It is the one time in their lives that they do not have any control, and it frightens them,” she insisted.

  Elizabeth could not imagine her husband being frightened of anything… except spiders… he hated them.

  “All legs and hair…. disgusting creatures.” He had admitted shortly after their marriage when a particularly large specimen had managed to find its way into his dressing room. Elizabeth had heard him let out a yelp similar to that of a small child, followed by the heavy thud of a shoe. At first, she had laughed at him, but when she realized that her fearless knight in shining armor had an Achille’s heel, it was terribly amusing, but Darcy had not shared her mirth.

  “I promise to protect you from spiders from this day forward,” she had vowed, but now planned on a spider themed surprise for their anniversary. Tucked away under some stationery were a dozen ‘spiders’ made from black embroidery thread. The realism of the creations had already been tested on more than one maid as she had hidden a few in one of the linen closets. It had taken a glass of sherry to calm the poor girl down and convince her that Pemberley was not infested. Smiling at the memory, Elizabeth wondered what Darcy had planned for her in return. The thought brightened her dull spirits so much that the hopeful prospect of doing a little more ‘practice’ to ensure a baby made her look forward to the evening when he would return for dinner.

  “Perhaps the doctor is right, I should spend less time worrying and more time living,” she announced to the collection of silk spiders before shutting the drawer. There was far too much to enjoy without dwelling upon what could not be changed.

  ~Two~

  Two days later…

  With spiders carefully concealed in various locations as to achieve the greatest surprise, Elizabeth was pleased with the arrangement. An intimate dinner for two had been laid in the small dining parlor featuring all of her husband’s favorites. The gas lamps had been lowered in favor of traditional candlelight that now danced about the chamber walls. All that was needed was Darcy, but he was late. Normally punctual to a fault, Elizbeth busied herself with mindless tasks as the minutes ticked by. First fifteen, then thirty…finally, after an hour, she requested the food be put away before it was ruined. Her own appetite had vanished and was now replaced with worry. Surely, he would have sent a message if he were to be delayed? Had he forgotten the date? Or… did it not matter anymore? Her own parents, married for nearly four decades, no longer celebrated the date of their union. If anything, they took great pains to avoid one another. Now that their children lived in households of their own, it was not uncommon for one of the elder Bennets to go visiting without the other. Retreating to the family parlor to await his return, Elizabeth curled up on the sofa and eventually fell asleep. Her dreams, fraught with unease, were mo
re the nightmare than pleasant jumble of nonsense. The images, transforming from human to fantastical beast, chased her down corridors of fog. It was in this state, muttering in her sleep, that Darcy found her just after dawn.

  “Wake up dearest…” he said, gently shaking her shoulder.

  Disoriented, Elizabeth blinked her eyes against the bright sunlight that streamed in through the windows.

  “What? Where…. What time is it?”

  “About half past five. My apologies… but it could not be helped, I was on my way home when …well, it’s a long story. Why don’t you go upstairs to bed? I will join you shortly.

  Elizabeth rose slowly as a wave of dizziness washed over her. Having not eaten since early afternoon of the previous day, her stomach growled in protest, but the ill feeling did not subside. Nearly falling back to her makeshift bed, Darcy caught her in his arms.

  “Are you unwell?”

  “No… just hungry all of a sudden. I missed you at dinner and did not eat…” she lied.

  “My poor Lizzie. I shall have something sent up.”

  Feeling steadier, Elizabeth rose again, this time on her own accord and followed Darcy in to the hall. There, with a small bag at her side, stood a very beautiful young lady whom she did not know. In the clothes of servant, dirt smeared her face where tears had dried. It was clear that the girl was frightened, but also angry as her small fists were clenched.

  “Who?”

  “Lady Rosamund Endicott… circumstances have placed her in my charge for the time being… I shall explain everything, just let me get her settled and I will be up directly,” he said flatly and steered Elizabeth in the direction of the stair.

  “But I should…” Elizabeth protested, but was met with Darcy’s pleading eyes as he whispered softly before releasing her.

  “Trust me…”

  ****

  In the end, Elizabeth conceded, while the mystery girl was beyond unusual, as was her husband’s behavior, she was feeling too poorly to argue. It was as if every possible malady common to women had chosen to have some sort of festival in her body. Once inside her chamber, she gave into a rising nausea and dry heaved bile into a chamber pot. Chills soon followed and it took every ounce of energy to remove her dress unassisted and crawl into bed. Despite her new station, Elizabeth had yet to acquire a lady’s maid.

  “It makes me uncomfortable to have someone always about, ready to answer my every wish. Besides, I am accustomed to doing for myself… and then there is always you to assist me if needed.”

  “I fear that I am useless at arranging a lady’s hair…” he replied, twirling a clumsy finger through her curls.

  “Oh bother… I shall give it some consideration,” she had insisted, but now, over four years later, it had never come to pass, and she was glad of it. Always a person of excellent health, the rare times of illness were an embarrassment and she hated anyone to witness her weakness. Pulling the comforter up about her shoulders, she shivered as the cold bed did little to warm her aching bones but eventually, exhaustion took over and she fell deeply asleep.

  ~Three~

  While Elizabeth slumbered, Darcy had no such luxury. As promised, he went to her chamber as soon as time permitted. Their guest, having been locked in a rarely used guest chamber, had gone willingly, but Darcy had noted how her eyes darted in all directions, searching for the nearest route of escape. It was a situation in which he had not wished to become involved, but the alternative was unthinkable. Despite the awkwardness, he was glad that he had needed to stop on his journey home. If not, there was no telling what sort of desperate acts might have happened between Lord Upton and his daughter. Known for his excessive bouts of drinking, as well as a volatile temper, Darcy had feared for the young woman’s safety. Now, she was in his charge, with a promise made to her father that he would have great trouble keeping. Sighing, he had dismissed the maid who bore a tray destined for his wife and took it up himself. He would need Elizabeth’s help if any equitable solution was to be had. Unfortunately, when an unmarried noblewoman found herself with child, there were limited options. Tapping on Elizabeth’s chamber door, he gently pushed it open to find her softly snoring. Chuckling to himself, he recalled the first time he had mentioned it.

  “I do not ‘snore’! That is a habit for old men.”

  He had not replied, but raised an eyebrow in contradiction.

  “Really Fitzwilliam! At least you could do is not mention it. A gentleman never would do such a thing… and besides, you are not innocent of revealing bodily functions while you sleep either!” she had countered while pinching her nostrils shut with her forefingers. Afterwards, they had fallen into a fit of laughter, but today, he found little to bring him amusement.

  Placing the tray upon the bedside table, he did not join her, instead, chose to study her sleeping form from a chair. There was time enough after she rested to propose his plan for Rosamund Endicott, but would Elizabeth agree? Perhaps if they had children of their own by now, it would not feel like such a cruel request. But Lord Upton had been less than agreeable to any other option. This was magnified by the fact that Rosamund had refused to name the father. In fact, she had refused to speak at all.

  It had been early afternoon when his horse had begun to show signs of strain. The normally spirited horse had slowed considerably and Darcy had been forced to walk to prevent any further injury. Fortunately, he was but a mile from Upton Chase, the estate of one of his father’s oldest friends. Thinking to borrow a horse and then continue on home with the explanation of his anniversary as a reason to refuse any proffered hospitality, he hoped to be back on his way within an hour or two. He would be late, but not miss an evening with Elizabeth. Unfortunately, the stop turned out to be far more than he ever expected. Standing in the entry hall while he awaited the announcement of his arrival, he could hear the shouts of an enraged Peter Endicott, Lord Upton. In truth, Darcy wondered how the entire county was not aware of what was transpiring inside the closed doors of Upton Chase’s parlor. Even the long-standing butler, a man nearing seventy, did not dare interrupt the altercation between father and daughter. Wincing as the sound of an object crashing against a wall was answered with a ringing slap, Darcy could bear no longer to be a simple observer.

  “How long have they been at it?”

  “Nearly an hour… ever since Mrs. Maguire informed his lordship of…well…”

  “I can hear everything Grimsley…but even so, I cannot stand by an allow abuse. Give me the key.”

  The butler handed over a thick iron ring. The relief in his eyes was evident that he would not be the one to interrupt. “I suggest everyone go about their business,” Darcy ordered as he opened the door, dodging a porcelain figurine that just missed his head.

  “I said no one was to disturb…. Darcy! Have you come to witness the utter disgrace of my family?” snapped Lord Upton.

  “No, but it is clearly evident that nothing has been solved by this shouting match, except frightening the servants.”

  “What does that matter when my daughter is a whore? I suppose the gossip has already spread as far as Pemberley, but that saves me the trouble of sending a messenger.”

  “Actually, my horse went lame… I merely stopped to beg the borrow of another,” Darcy said, puzzled why his presence would be requested.

  “Indeed, you are welcome to whatever one suits you. Your family has been very loyal to mine in the past… unlike my daughter!”

  By now, the slight figure of a young woman emerged from behind a chair where she had been crouching. In her hands were clutched two candlesticks as if ready to do battle. Her cheek bore a welt where the heavy hand of her father had met its mark. However, no tears were evident from the assault, instead, angry defiance flashed in her green eyes.

  “I may as well tell you all, the entire county will know by morning. My daughter… my unmarried daughter…is with child.”

  “I see…”

  “No, you don’t. She refuses to name the father. I
f not for my astute housekeeper, I should have not known until it was obvious, but Mrs. Maguire knows how her bread is buttered.”

  Darcy sighed, he could not imagine his own housekeeper taking account of his sister’s soiled linens, but then, it was Mrs. Reynolds who had made him aware of Georgiana’s attempted elopement some years ago. Apparently, the tasks of a housekeeper were varied to the extreme. As one who had nearly avoided disaster of this sort in his own family, he felt obliged to offer what assistance he could. Even now, years later, he was not entirely sure that Georgiana had truly forgiven his interference, but it had been for the best. At just thirteen, she had been in no position to fend of the advances of a fortune hunter and Lord Upton had been one of the few that was aware of the incident. However, Rosamund Endicott was no adolescent, despite her petite frame and golden curls. At nearly twenty, she was often thought to be much younger, being forced to dress in the flounces and lace more befitting a child. This had resulted in more than one argument over the years. With the death of his wife nearly a decade ago, Lord Upton had become virtual recluse. No social engagements were ever accepted, nor were his doors open to any but the closest of acquaintances. As far as Darcy knew, Rosamund’s very existence was something of a myth amongst the local population, for she was never permitted to leave the estate. Some claimed that it was Rosamund’s uncanny likeness to her mother that had made Lord Upton so severe, but others speculated all manner of fancies. Had Susannah Endicott taken a lover? Was the child disfigured in some way? Why else would a father keep his only child from the world? Just like the fabled Rapunzel, it was no surprise that an act of defiance had resulted in disaster. The poor girl was probably reaching out to anyone who offered her the remotest form of affection.

  “Surely a marriage can be arranged? Just tell us who he is…” Darcy ventured, eyeing the figure that stood some paces from the gentlemen. But no sound came from her lips, only a negative shake of her head.