Hello everyone! I am here to apologize for not updating AWAR or OMD again, but please be patient with me. I have a huge exam coming up in November (as in whether or not I can finish school), but will not be able to do things with such a massive storyline until afterwards. Since writing is my de-stress (as is baking, but I imagine most of you have better access to this than any cookies I bake), so I my be able post a few smaller things. I think of this as something akin to A Christmas Carol, though not nearly as in depth.
Fitzwilliam knew little these days of what happened outside of his rooms. He had been bed-ridden for a number of years now, all sense of pride gone for having had nurses help him with his most basic bodily functions. He left much of the care and keeping of Pemberley to his Steward, having no children to give the control over to. The once great estate had lost many of its tenants and the annual income of the estate had dropped below five thousand for the first time in centuries. He found he did not care. He had long ago stopped caring. He had disappointed his ancestors decades previous, having provided no heir. He would die soon, cold and alone.
One evening, upon being admitted into the entrance hallway after riding from Pemberley, Fitzwilliam looked around the first room of his London townhouse, finding the same amount of ostentation that he had only remembered from his Aunt's home at Rosings. His wife had remodeled again without telling him, without asking whether she could or whether they had the funds for it. He glanced at one of the chairs, realizing it alone likely cost more than her monthly allowance. He was glad again for her fifty-thousand pound dowry.
He heard voices coming from the tearoom and heard his wife's laugh, a sound he had rarely known since their courtship when she agreed with whatever he said. It was a pleasant enough laugh that he thought was appropriate for a lady of her station. He smiled, perhaps Georgiana had come to visit?
He opened the door to find his wife of seven years seated on a man's lap, her hands around his neck and her body pressed against his in a very unladylike and unbecoming manner. His hands were touching parts of her body that left nothing to the imagination as to why he was there.
A livid Darcy slammed the door behind him, and the couple did not even have the decency to move apart. The man's face broke into a smile. "Fitzwilliam Darcy! Good to see you! Your wife is certainly a lovely lady." The lady in question did not have the intelligence to hear his insult, instead being a ton beauty. Darcy saw the face of Baron Charles Cavendish and knew he would lose whatever fight he would make to keep his wife. He found upon second inspection he barely minded.
Darcy was set to attend his cousin's wedding on the morrow, standing up at his side as his best man. Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam had managed, at a chance meeting at Rosings Park two Easters past, to make the acquaintance of one Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn visiting her friend Charlotte. After a short courtship where the country miss dazzled the venerated Fitzwilliam family an engagement was announced by the Earl. The terms of the engagement were long and dependent on Richard making his fortune, but in such a love match neither seemed to mind too much. Richard had been born the spare son, though his elder brother Andrew had met with an unfortunate accident at a club a year previous, leaving the former colonel set to inherit the Earldom.
Darcy had known the bride from a visit to Hertfordshire, but had disregarded her as an impertinent social climber with a ridiculous family. Upon getting to know his cousin's smiling fiancée when she visited London for their engagement ball last month, he found himself becoming quite smitten by her as well. He sometimes found himself wondering if he had pursued her acquaintance, whether he and his cousin would have been in opposite positions this afternoon. He rarely let himself follow this trail of thoughts, knowing it would be fruitless. Darcy felt the change the lady was bringing into their family, finding himself opening up and laughing in her presence more than he had around any other woman. Miss Bennet (her elder sister Jane had been cheerfully married for nearly a year to Viscount Daniel Summerfield, one of Darcy's Cambridge mates) was already being a wonderful influence on Georgiana as well. The girl was spending much of her time at the Fitzwilliam family homes rather than at Pemberley or Darcy House and had very much come out of her shell.
He looked across the small sitting area to find his cousin staring into his cup of untouched brandy. "I am nervous, coz," Richard commented quietly. Darcy was surprised to hear such a thing and felt his eyebrows raise. His cousin the former Colonel had served in wars on the Continent doing things the gentleman farmer could hardly imagine. What reason would he have to be nervous? Darcy expressed his curiosity.
"Elizabeth deserves everything I can give her and more, Fitz. She is the most amazing woman I have ever met. I sometimes think I am not good enough for her."
Darcy smiled ruefully; sometimes his cousin forgot he was now the heir to the Earldom. After a lifetime of low-expectations for his inheritance, being faced with vast power would be a challenge to get accustomed to. From his own knowledge of Elizabeth, she would want nothing more than to spend time with the man she loved and though she would do him proud as a Viscountess and someday the Countess, she did not need a title or large income to be happy.
Darcy said as much to Richard, seeing the countenance on his cousin's face relax but feeling his own heart break.
Fitzwilliam rubbed his aching knees and lower back as he shuffled and maneuvered to sit down. Nearly seventy years spent being the better part of two meters tall and spending time on horseback and in carriages had certainly taken their toll on his joints. Lowering himself with a steadying hand on the near post and a feeling of considerable creakiness, he fell the last few inches onto the mattress when his once-strong legs gave out. He sighed in relief as the weight of his body was taken up by the mattress. He reached slowly down and tugged the counterpane over himself, hardly able to hear the rustling of the fabric anymore.
"How is a lady supposed to get her beauty rest if her beloved husband continues to thwump onto bed each night?" His wife's aged voice cajoled him from the other side of the bed, teasing him as she had for more than half a century. He grinned and looked over at what had been the sleeping form of his long beloved wife. He reached over and put his hand on her shoulder, the familiar buzz of energy coursing through his old body, the same that he felt every time they touched. She reached up with knobbly fingers, moving his hand slightly so she could kiss the back of it. She wasn't actually angry with him for waking her, he knew. Nowadays, they spent every minute they could together, whether it be sitting near each other in the same room to read or having their hands brush almost constantly at meals. They were aware their time in this world was growing limited and felt blessed with every moment. With considerable effort, Fitzwilliam shuffled closer to his wife, enclosing her in his arms, and together they fell asleep, the same as nearly every other night since they married.
Darcy was reading in his study when he heard the children come running, the pitter-patter of small feet a familiar sound in the halls of Pemberley. "Grandpapa! Grandpapa!" They called, all excitement this evening. He grinned at their approach, opening his arms for a hug.
"Whoa there! I do believe it is well past your bedtime, little ones," he cried as he set aside his open book, allowing his eldest grandson to clamber up onto his lap.
"I apologize, Father," his daughter-in-law came in after her children, scooping up her youngest and setting the girl against her hip. She could still sometimes misunderstand his teasing nature. "I will take them back upstairs."
Darcy smiled tenderly to her. "No, Sophia, it truly is no trouble. What brought on this late-night invasion?" He looked down at William on his lap and grinned. Really, it was just past eight, but it was quite near the children's bedtime.
"We want a story!" Little Constance hopped in place next to her Grandpapa's armchair and William and Phoebe nodded their agreement. Sophia smiled and took a seat on the sofa nearby, hugging a sleepy three-year old Pheobe to her.
"A story!" He gasped animatedly. "What about?"
"A pwincess!" Constance chirped around her newly disappeared front teeth.
"A knight!" William mentioned, using the characteristic Darcy eyebrows to admonish his sister. Constance looked entirely unaffected and the eldest Darcy grinned. He scooted William over and allowed Constance a place on his other leg.
"Well, it shall be a story about a princess and a knight!" Darcy settled, a conspiratorial look between his two grandchildren. He started a story, finding quickly the future-future-Master of Pemberley and his sister drifting off after only a few minutes. He smiled to Sophia, seeing Phoebe already out in her arms and his son's wife smiled back.
"That is adorable," she commented at the sight of her children in her father-in-law's embrace, her brilliant blue eyes twinkling.
"I thank you," he whispered, nodding his head at her as a grateful bow. "It is not every man who has such wonderful children and grandchildren." He looked proudly between the two sleeping children he held. Sophia's husband appeared in the room, a tired expression on his face from dealing with estate business for nearly the entire day, though he was also smiling. His features, though clearly from the Darcy line, had much of his mother's looks as well, namely her eyes. He and his mother had been listening from just outside the room to the older man's story, his arm around her shoulders and her head resting on her son's broad chest, realizing that at the growing silence in the room his presence may be required. She stayed in the hallway to watch the interaction inside, pushing her eldest forward gently. With a light touch to Sophia's shoulder in greeting, the younger man offered to call a footman to help with the children. Darcy the elder shook his head with a resigned smile at having to become the Master of Pemberley again. "I am old now Ben, but not too old. Here, take Connie, I can carry William."
A few minutes later, the children were deposited in their beds and the middle Darcy's had also retired. Unable to sleep just yet, Fitzwilliam returned to his sitting room to find his book and take it to his chambers. Returning to the study, he found his wife had taken his seat and his book, reading from where he had left off. He smiled and walked behind the chair to rub her shoulders, leaning down to kiss her graying hair. She allowed his attentions with some impunity, reaching up to stroke the side of his face absently. She smiled as he shuffled to the front of the chair and began to nuzzle at her neck.
"I cannot read your book if you continue to distract me, my dear," she grinned. "Perhaps we should continue this elsewhere…." She caught his head between her hands as he had started to show attention to exposed skin that was slightly lower than her neck. She leaned in and kissed his forehead, but not to be distracted from his purpose, Darcy blew air onto the sensitive skin just above the line of her dress, satisfied when he felt her fingers unconsciously tighten in his hair. He looked up at her with a burning gaze, finding hers matching. "You know I can deny you nothing, Lady Trentham."
She rolled her eyes at his pretention.
Fitzwilliam grimaced. He hated balls. He despised balls. Especially ones he could not avoid: those given in his honor. He was stewing, looming, glowering… all of the things he knew he did when he was decidedly uncomfortable. Suddenly, he felt a cool hand take his own and a small body press against his side. Without even looking at who it was, some of his tension dissipated. She knew how uncomfortable he was, even after all their years together and everything they had been through, she always knew how much he detested some of their social requirements to the Ton. He had discovered his love for dancing some time ago (only with certain partners!) but the rest of the business of being fashionable was just not as much to his liking as he used to think it should be. He remembered the time when it had been the most important thing in his life, but that time was well past now.
She squeezed his arm and stood on her toes to press a kiss on his cheek. "I have a surprise, my dear," she commented. He glanced down at her for the first time since she came up to him in the antechamber. What could she possibly surprise him with now, of all times? When the word had first reached them of this occasion, they had agreed not to obtain gifts for one another feeling such an exchange would be superficial and inappropriate. His brow furrowed slightly, wondering if her enthusiasm for no gifts was another one of those eternally losing situations for him. Thinking of other such times and seeing the grin on her face, one side of his mouth quirked upwards.
His wife responded with a full out smile and glanced momentarily at the Fitzwilliam family footman stationed near the door, her husband following her gaze out of habit. "Fitzwilliam," she recalled his eyes to her and stood on her toes again to whisper in his ear, he leaned closer out of habit. "I am with child."
A slow, surprised smile spread over his face and he took her hands. This was the first time he had truly smiled all day, or really in the past few days since their arrival in London. "My love… another?!"
She grinned, squeezing his hands. "Indeed. Around August." Her eyes brimmed with pride and passion for him and he knew he was giving her the same look. He leaned down to kiss her soundly, ignoring the footmen in the room, though they had obligingly turned away at the earlier glance from the lady.
He pulled away from her enough to growl into her ear: "If we could, my dear, I would carry you away to Pemberley right now." She smiled indulgently and kissed his cheek to assure him of her agreement. She stepped backwards and they made to fix each other's appearance, knowing they needed to be presentable shortly. He adjusted her necklace and pushed a pin further into her jeweled hair before she went about straightening a lock of his own hair with a practiced hand. He saw her brow wrinkle slightly as she tried to fix the same few strands that always seemed to perplex her whenever they had to do things like this. He laughed at the dichotomy of her actions over the past few minutes and given the nature of their situation. She smiled in return, understanding his humor but annoyed at his hair.
She put her gloved hand to his cheek and rubbed her thumb on his temple. "Now I do believe, my dear Fitzwilliam, you have something you can truly smile about this evening."
He leaned into her hand, becoming only more amused when he saw her gaze drift back and darken at the again wayward lock of hair. She did not like the battles she would never win. "Have you told anyone else yet, my dear?"
"No, just you. Not even my sisters. I wanted to share this with you alone for a while before anyone else."
Just as she predicted, he could barely wipe the smile off of his face. He knew his wife had planned this coincidence perfectly, making him love her all the more for her thoughtfulness. He nodded to the footman, who opened the door to the Matlock House Grand Ballroom. The room fell silent and the announcer spoke: "Lord and Lady Trentham, newly made Earl and Countess of Clearbourne." Cheers erupted from the room for the Earl and his Lady, neither of whom could have cared one wit less for the new titles as it would make them spend more time in Town and away from Pemberley.
It was early in the afternoon two days before Christmas day. He was sitting in the parlor reading, his wife furiously scribbling a letter nearby at his desk. "Probably to a sister," he thought smiling. Georgiana and Richard had just shared their joyous news for the following summer, having been married the June previous. The look of pure excitement on her face when she delivered the news had been fantastic. Taking tender care of her nephews and niece for the past three years had instilled in her a strong maternal instinct that her brother was happy to see would now be fulfilled by her own child. He thought of how changed Georgie was over the past five years since his own marriage. His shy little sister was shy no longer, but remained the sweet wonderful girl – woman – she had always been. He knew her character had been brought out by the influence of her new sister, his own wife. Her help and guidance in gently prodding Georgie in the right direction had done wonders for the beaten down girl's spirits.
Not for the first time, or the last, Fitzwilliam praised his wonderful wife for the happiness she had brought him. As if on cue, she sat down on the sofa next to him burying her face in his cravat and her (cold!) hands under his waistcoat. He groaned as he felt her chilly nose find purchase on his neck. How he hated it when she did this! "My dear," he said, his voice stiff, "perhaps you should have the fire stoked."
"But you are a perfect heater, William," he felt her smile against his neck. His resolve melted and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She snuggled closer. "I am so happy for Georgie and Richard," she said, her voice somewhat muffled from speaking through his clothing.
He kissed her hair. "I am as well, love. I had hoped they would have children, but I will be a little sorry to have her otherwise preoccupied."
His wife moved up to look at him in consternation. He was proud of her protection of his little sister. "What?"
He kissed her nose before she could move further away. "I mean nothing sinister, just that she occupied our brood so well and I will have fewer moments like this with you. Just the two of us." They had agreed at the birth of their eldest that they would not hire more nurses than necessary. They both preferred to have an active role in parenting and Georgiana had so far adored spending time with her nephews and niece.
"Well, William, I suppose now would be an unfortunate time to mention you and I are not alone." She laughed and hugged him tighter when he tried to move away from her and look for who else was in the room. "No, no my dear."
He looked down at her, her eyes smouldering when it dawned on him what she meant. "Truly?" His eyes landed on her stomach and he reached across and gingerly touched her dress above her womb. "Another?" He was smiling and planted a kiss on her lips. "You are perfect."
"Happy Christmas, love," she kissed him back.
"Have you told our family yet?" She shook her head, mentioning she was going to write them later that afternoon now that she had told him. He knew she had been unhappy to spend Christmas at Pemberley without any of her sisters nearby. Of course, they had their children and each other, but this was the first Christmas either of them could remember spent without a sibling in the house as well now that Georgiana was married and settled in Cheshire. He smiled down at her. "Then I suppose you shall be able to do so when they all arrive tonight for the holiday." He watched the surprise and happiness grow on her face.
"Truly?" She mirrored his question from earlier. "They are coming?" She dearly missed seeing her Papa (and honestly Darcy appreciated the Bennets' presence more than he had ever anticipated), and for their three other children, the timing had not worked to tell them in person before her confinements.
"Truly," he confirmed, love in his eyes. "Merry Christmas, love." He smiled as they sat on the sofa, delighting in the happiness of the holiday.
Sometime late in the morning, Fitzwilliam stirred. He looked around somewhat confused at his location before finally recalling he had opened his townhouse in Bath for the next two weeks. He hardly ever made use of this house, but it seemed quite perfect for the occasion.
He smiled, feeling a small hand creep across his bare stomach and rub small circles on his skin. He closed his eyes again, reveling in the feeling. He felt a woman's small body – his wife's! – press up against his side.
"I think, Mrs. Darcy, you are attempting to tease me."
He felt another hand sneak up under his shoulder and neck, he moved slightly to allow her greater progress before relaxing and trapping her arm under him. He felt his pulse start to quicken when the hand started to play with his ear.
"Tease you? Me? Your dearest loveliest wife?" She leaned upwards, being pulled and supported by his arm, to kiss him on the lips. "Preposterous, my Mr. Darcy. Simply preposterous."
Fitzwilliam Darcy smiled again and sighed. With a quick motion, he had turned the two of them so that he was laying on top of her, his weight partially supported by his arms to not squish her. She squeaked with surprise at the speed he had moved, having thought him quite close to sleep.
"Surely, Mrs. Darcy, you know I cannot allow such actions without appropriate reciprocation." He smiled darkly at her as he leaned down and kissed around her throat. He continued his ministrations, pleased when she arched her neck upwards to allow him a better reach. When he paused to just look at how beautiful she was, he earned a glare from the finest eyes in all of England. Mr. Darcy grinned. She reached up to his face and pulled him down by the ears to kiss her squarely on the lips. Well aware that this was the first full day of their honeymoon, the recently married couple spent much more of the morning in activities suited to their newlywed status. If ever asked, Bath, for all its rain and inclement weather, was not chosen for the requirement to stay indoors. Sometime later, Fitzwilliam Darcy looked over at his wife. She was smiling at him, sending him her deepest love and esteem. He was thrilled to see his Elizabeth looking at him with such devotion.
Fitzwilliam Darcy sat up in bed. It was the morning of November 26th and he was in his guest room at Netherfield in Hertforshire. Whether the dreams he had were just dreams or portents of the things to come, he knew not. What he did know, however, was he had fallen in love with Miss Elizabeth Bennet and knew his future would be miserable without her.