-1Author's note: Fanfiction based on Pride and Prejudice Fanfiction. From Elizabeth Aston's Darcy trilogy, her second novel, The True Darcy Spirit, a book report I had to do. One scene that happens after the end of the book. Nothing spectacular. But it's here to be read anyways.
Horatio Darcy Is A Nervous Wreck
Mr. Horatio Darcy sat on a stiff, high-backed chair in front of the two large wooden doors. The doors were polished so that they shined almost as much as the exquisite marble floors. In the corner, resting upon a short column, was bust of the king, starring at him with empty, alabaster eyes. Horatio wanted to take his hat and cover the hateful eyes, which he felt were judging him in their silent observance. He resisted the urge, however, and abruptly stood, pacing nervously. He slashed the air with his hat, which he held in his right hand, while his left hand was thrust deep in his pocket. He stopped his pacing and looked at the large imposing doors. He stared long and hard, as though he might see through them. Then he cleared his throat, and, scolding himself for being so nonsensically agitated over nothing, Horatio Darcy sat down and tried not to look at the doors.
For on the other side of the door, a committee from the House of Lords was looking over his paperwork to decide whether he was to take his seat in parliament. On the other side of the door, the future of Horatio Darcy was being determined by a bunch of white-wigged gentry. It was not only his future that depended upon the committee's accepting Darcy's application, he needed this position to support his wife Cassandra, and, he thought warmly, his child. For Cassandra, the lively, spirited, independent Cassandra that he had somehow won, was going to have a baby. She was in bed at this moment, laying in wait for the baby to come. The child should come within the week, the doctor had said. Horatio hated to leave her, but Sackree was with her, and he could not reschedule his appointment with the British Parliament. The idea of being a father, though it made him proud, set his nerves off again, and he rose and began to resume the pacing.
A young servant boy was moving through the corridor with a message. Horatio stopped in his pacing.
"Boy!" he whispered urgently. The boy stopped, surprised.
"Yes sir?"
"They keep alcohol in this building? Of course they do."
"Yes sir. It's for the parliament." The boy was clearly not understanding the meaning of Mr. Darcy's inquiries. He stood, puzzled.
"A glass of port! Get me one, quickly now!" And he sent the startled boy off on his errand.
Horatio Darcy sank back into the stiff chair. He knew he had nothing to worry about. His seat in parliament had practically been bought for him by his aunt, paid for by her wealth and influence. Still, Horatio was afraid that the scandal surrounding Cassandra and Lord Usborne might serve as a political obstacle that could be too high for the House of Lords to surmount. The servant came back, interrupting his reverie and handing him a small glass of port. Then with a quick bow, the boy shuffled silently on his way along the gleaming marble floor. Mr. Darcy sipped the brandy and felt his nerves beginning to calm down. He sat, feeling confident that he would be given the position in parliament, that he and his beloved Cassandra and their son would be able to live well. Cassandra could keep her painting, and they would buy a moderately sized house in town, and there they would all three be happy. Just he and his wife and--
"Excuse me sir." It was the quiet servant again.
"Yes, what is it?"
"A message sir. You're needed at the house. Miss Camilla sent Sackree to tell me to tell you--Mrs. Darcy's havin' her baby." Horatio stood in shock.
"Now?" He articulated. The boy nodded vigorously. Horatio snapped out of his daze. "Uh, then would you make my excuses to the committee," he gestured towards the doors, "and inform them of the circumstances." Then he rushed out of the building, hat in hand, slashing at the air nervously.
When he arrived home, Mr. Darcy stared at and paced in front of a different door. Inside he heard the screams of his laboring wife. He was struck to the heart by each one. She was in such pain, and he could do nothing. But then , the sound ceased, and was replaced by another noise, the sound of a baby's cries, and the soft cooing of the attending women. When Sackree finally opened the door, he rushed in and kissed his wife who was exhausted, but beaming, and utterly beautiful. She held the fruits of her labor close to her breasts; twins, a boy and a girl. The boy was fair-haired and the girl had the dark Darcy looks. Horatio took his son and daughter into his arms and admired them. He was so absorbed in this occupation that he did not hear Sackree calling his name until she burst through the door. "Mr. Darcy! Mr. Darcy!" Sackree was ebullient. "The word just come from the parliament house! You've got the seat! You're a member of the British Parliament!" Sackree laughed and everyone congratulated him. Mr. Wytton, a friend in attendance, clapped him on the back. "I say, Darcy, but you're a lucky chap." And Horatio Darcy looked into the faces of his newborn twins, and then at the sparkling eyes of his wife and though that he was indeed the luckiest man in all the world.