Author's Note:
Hi, guys! Here's another short chapter for you! Thank you so much for your reviews and comments. I really love to read your own experiences with children. As I said before, I don't have children of my own. Everything is based on research and my own nephew so I love to read about your own children.
I admit that Bennet's milestones and a lot of his character are based on my nephew. He, like Bennet, walked when he was 10 months old and hasn't stopped running since. Actually, many of the things you'll read that Bennet does are things that I have seen my nephew do. As his aunt and godmother, I may be biased, but he is an adorable, mischievous, witty three-year-old who is always happy and laughing. I think many of these characteristics are also Lizzy's so it made sense for Bennet to have inherited some of her traits. I love the things toddlers come up with and I'm constantly laughing when I'm with him. So many of the things Bennet will say are just translations from Spanish to English of things that come right from my nephew's mouth.
Anyway, this chapter is mostly letters. I hope you like it!
Stay safe!
Jen
Bennet fussed, clearly expressing his wish to be let down on the floor again where he proceeded to repeat his performance. The following days were a repetition of Bennet's newly acquired ability. He took a few clumsy steps on shaky legs, struggling for balance before he fell—for he did indeed fall many times, most of them on his bottom—before he stood up again as if nothing had happened and, not discouraged by his fall, tried again. Fitzwilliam could not help but feel frightened each time and he thought he could almost feel it each time Ben fell.
The worst part was feeling that this constant fear was only the beginning of many years of prolonged concern and apprehension.
50.
August, 1814
Fitzwilliam's first separation from his wife and child came a month before Bennet's first birthday. The previous winter, the whole Darcy family had spent the season in London while Elizabeth straightened her social role as Mrs. Darcy and Georgiana enjoyed her last quiet season before her coming out which would be the following November.
Mr. Darcy had been kind enough to deal with all business in town when he was required so Fitzwilliam would not have to leave Elizabeth and Bennet behind, but that August, he felt unwell, and so Fitzwilliam could not, in good conscience, allow his father to make the trip. He knew he would suffer the fortnight he spent away from his family. He would miss each night he did not sleep by his wife's side and each time he did not get to kiss his son's forehead. But he would never forgive himself if something happened to his father because of his selfishness. He would gladly suffer the separation if that would spare his father. He had briefly considered taking Elizabeth and Bennet with him, but his business would only require a sennight and to spend almost as long as that travelling with a babe seemed absurd, especially since his son was not very fond of staying still. Neither of them preferred London to Pemberley and so they had no desire to remain there longer than it was necessary, especially during the summer.
Therefore, he went to London alone. No sooner had he been driven away from Pemberley in his comfortable carriage that he wished to turn around and take his beloved Lizzy and Ben with him. But no. He would not be selfish and expose his little boy to the long journey and the unbearable heat of the city. When he arrived at Darcy House, a letter with the Darcy seal and Elizabeth's handwriting was already waiting for him. He was almost shaking as he opened it, terrified that something had happened for her to be writing so soon. His concern only increased when he saw he had written the letter the same afternoon he had left Pemberley, but when he pulled it from the envelope, he read:
"Pemberley, Derbyshire
August 9th, 1814
3:10 PM
My dear love,
Be not alarmed, Sir, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its containing any dire news, or grim information, which would disturb your peace of mind. I write only with intention of declaring my love and dwelling on wishes of our reunion, which, for the unhappiness of both, shall not be for another fortnight. I wish I could have saved you the dread and the alarm that the reception of this letter must have caused you—for I know you too well, my dear Fitzwilliam—but it could not be helped. You must, therefore, pardon the freedom with which I demand your attention; for my own feelings demand to be acknowledged."
Fitzwilliam laughed, both relieved and enchanted by her, at the formality of her letter, as if they were mere acquaintances and not husband and wife. He could not help, however, to find the words slightly familiar, but no matter how much he tried to pin the origin of such déjà vu, he could not remember when he had heard those words before.
"In all seriousness, I miss you already. We have not been apart since our marriage and although I heartily approve of your decision to spare Father the journey, I cannot help but miss you. As you rode away, I felt the strings of my heart stretching in the most uncomfortable and painful way and it was only Bennet that held me in place or I would have run after you, as silly as it sounds. I would have demanded you take me with you to the ends of Earth even if that meant so many days of travel in this blistering heat. Would you have taken me with you, Fitzwilliam? If it were only you and I, we had to worry about? Would you have laughed at your wife's insanity and helped me up the carriage or would you have called me out on my absurdity and sent me back? I believe you would have taken me with you even if I had embarrassed you by running after the carriage like a delusional woman. Now I wonder how shall I sleep tonight? Or the following thirteen nights until I can hold you again? I hope you do not disapprove, but I think I shall lay Ben next to me, so I can have a part of you with me. I can see him right now, sitting on the floor and playing with the toy soldiers Richard brought him and I cannot believe his resemblance to you. He is all you, which is quite ungrateful of him since I birthed him, do you not think?
I believe Mother, Father, and Georgiana realise that I miss you, for they have barely left my side all day, even though you have been away six hours. I try not to let it show, for I do not wish for them to think I would have preferred Father to go, but they know me too well. What does it say of a grown woman—a mother no less!—who cannot be without her husband for a few days without looking grim? But you have taken my heart with you and I cannot hide it. I miss the expression in your face when you are trying not to laugh at something I said or the way you try to hide your amusement and scold Ben when he does something he should have not done. I miss the feeling of your hand in mine, the curl that always falls in your eye.
Shall you think of me tonight, before you close your eyes? I shall hold our son close to my heart, inhale his babe scent, and imagine you are holding both of us in your arms. Shall you imagine the same?
I have just realised that this is the first love letter I have ever written. My first letter to you. Do you think I did well? I expect a charming and romantic reply and, please, let me know you arrived safely at Darcy House. I received the letters you sent from each inn, but I cannot rest easy until I know you are safe in town.
Do think of me tonight, Fitzwilliam. And when you are about to fall asleep, imagine I kiss your lips and whisper I love you, for I shall be sending you my kiss and my love before I succumb to sleep each night that you are gone.
I adore you,
Your Elizabeth"
Fitzwilliam could not erase the silly smile from his face at his wife's words and no matter his exhaustion, he immediately set to reply.
"Darcy House, London
August 12th, 1814
4:30 PM
Dearest Elizabeth,
I do not think I can make justice to such a charming letter as the one you have sent to me, but I now feel ashamed for my short missives announcing my arrival at each inn. You must know, my love, that my curt notes had nothing to do with my feelings for you, and everything to do with my exhaustion and lack of time at each stop. I wanted to travel as fast as I could so I only stopped to eat, sleep, and write to you briefly. I told myself that the fastest I arrived in London, the fastest I could conclude my business and return to you and our son.
Do not suspect, for a moment, that my heart did not rip out of my chest to stay at Pemberley with both of you. I have mourned its loss since I last lay eyes on you. You are correct when you say that I would have taken you with me if it were only you and I. I would, indeed, have laughed at such an unladylike display as the one you described and then I would have wrapped my arm around your waist and hoisted you up the carriage and onto my lap. I miss you terribly and even before I read your letters I imagined you in my arms each night. Although I admit, Bennet is not always with us when I do, for he should not witness the passionate love his father feels for his mother. That is only for you to know, my darling. I confess I do not know how I shall survive the following days without either of you. My only plans, for now, are to work until exhaustion so I have no time to miss you, but I do not believe I shall be able to keep you from my mind. My desire to be back with you might boost my productivity or extinguish it completely, but I am praying for the first so I can return to you swiftly.
Do you know what I miss the most about you, Elizabeth? I miss watching you speak. Yes, you read correctly—watching you speak, though I quite enjoy the sound of your voice and the intelligence behind your words, too. You might not know this about yourself, Lovely Lizzy, but you are so incredibly expressive. Unlike me, you arch your brow, tilt your head, purse your lovely lips, smile teasingly, and gesture with your whole body. You are quite a sight and I am constantly mesmerised by you. People in London are your exact opposite, my love. I see cold expressions in frozen faces, dull and undemonstrative looks, tedious and repetitive conversations about the weather. You, dearest, with your lively disposition, are passion and warmth. Even now, after almost three years since I met you, I never know what shall come out of your mouth. You surprise me every day and the contrast is overwhelming. I need to drink in your vitality, drown in your energy and enthusiasm. You are life, Elizabeth. And more importantly, you are my life.
Know that I do not disapprove of Bennet sleeping with you until I return to keep you company, although I envy both of you for having each other. I must also say that I agree with you—he is the spitting image of his father with his mother's beautiful eyes, and I am glad that it brings you solace. We must have a little Elizabeth now, so I can keep her with me always if you are away. Please, write to me often to tell me about you and Ben, and I shall strive to do the same. If I cannot see you, I must, at least, hear from you.
I adore you,
Your Fitzwilliam"
I do not own any Pride and Prejudice properties, nor do I make any money from the writing of this story.
Characters and situations, created by Jane Austen, are taken from Pride and Prejudice and from the Pride and Prejudice (1995) adaptation created by Simon Langton and distributed by BBC.
This story is released under the GPL/CC BY: verbatim copying and distribution of this entire work are permitted worldwide, without royalty, in any medium, provided attribution is preserved.
