Author's Note:

Hi, guys! I'm posting early this week before I have an announcement (it sounds so important!). I've been writing… kind of like a Halloween special now that October is coming. This idea has been haunting me (ha!) for a long time, but I thought it was kind of silly and dismissed it. But it won't leave me alone! So I thought I might as well write it. It has a supernatural element (ghosts) and that's why I thought it might be silly. It is not meant to be scary at all, especially considering who my ghosts are. I used to be very sceptical about supernatural P&P variations but I read a few published ones that were really good. Still, it is different to write one.

If you're interested, my plan was to start posting tomorrow (October 1st) and finish on Halloween, but it might not be realistic since I am not even halfway through (I thought it would be a very short story but it's getting out of control). So, my question for you guys is: would you, guys, like to read it? I would still post chapters of HEA, but probably less frequently.

Anyway, about this chapter: It is a very sweet and fluffy one with one of those father-son conversations I love so much between Darcy and Mr. Darcy.

P.S.: Bennet holding people's ears when he's sleepy is something my nephew does for some unknown reason.

Stay safe!

Jen


"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"


51.

Fitzwilliam was frustrated. His business in town, which he had tried to resolve as quickly as possible, took a lot longer than he had previously thought it would. His lack of concentration did not help the matter and two weeks became three. By the time he arrived at Pemberley, Bennet's first birthday was only a week away and the family had already arrived to celebrate it.

Fortunately, no sooner had he crossed the threshold of his beloved Pemberley than he felt the collision of a small, warm body against his. Inhaling the scent of lavender, he smiled and with his arms around her waist, lifted his wife from the ground and twirled her around, listening to that musical laughter he had missed so dreadfully.

"I missed you so," she said, between kisses.

"And I, you, Lizzy. So much." He kissed her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, before returning to her lips. "I am extremely tempted to throw you over my shoulder and take you to your bedchamber to show you how much."

"Mr. Darcy!" she gasped, in fake astonishment. "Such shocking behaviour, sir!"

"I love you." He said, pecking her lips again and again. "I love you."

"Dearest love," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and holding him as close as it was humanly possible. "I love you."

"Do the rest know I have arrived?" he whispered back into her neck. "Maybe we can go to your bedchamber after all."

Elizabeth laughed. "They know. They are all in the parlour waiting for you, but I wanted a private reunion."

"I am glad you did or I would not have been able to do this."

He put his hand behind her head and kissed her deeply, caressing her tongue with his, sucking on her lower lip, delighting in her response when she moaned and bit him playfully. They drew apart only when they ran out of breath.

"Come, they are waiting for us," she said and started to pull away.

"I am not decent. I need a minute." He shook his head and pulled her back into his arms, resting his forehead against hers.

Lizzy giggled. "Well, I am glad I can discompose you so easily even after almost two years of marriage."

"You can discompose me with less than that, my love. But do not keep speaking of it or I shall never be able to join the rest. Tell me, how is our son?"

"Perfectly well. He does not know you have come back. We wished to surprise him. Mrs. Reynolds informed us of our carriage approaching but we spoke in code so he did not catch it. He might not speak a word, but he understands more than we believe."

She was indeed right. Their son seemed to always be paying attention as he watched them silently while his family spoke. Although he did not speak full words, he did babble in syllables all the time and he imitated tones and sounds. He could say the syllables "ma" and "pa" and repeated them constantly to everyone, but not yet the respective parent. He did, however, understand many more words than those he could say.

"Did he miss me, you think? I missed him terribly."

"Did he miss you?" Elizabeth laughed. "I was just telling our family that he spent all this time looking for you, watching the doors with excitement each time they opened and looking disappointed when it was not you who entered. He is in better spirits now that there are so many people in the house, but he missed you a lot."

These words filled Fitzwilliam's heart with so much love and tenderness that he could not contain it any longer.

"I need to see him," he said, and taking her hand, they walked to the parlour.

As soon as the door opened, all eyes turned to them, but Fitzwilliam only saw the way a pair of big, green eyes, now identical to his mother's, moved from Kitty—on whose lap Bennet was sitting—to the door before they brightened immediately.

"Papa!" he exclaimed and struggled out of his aunt's lap. He walked ten steps before falling on his bottom and, deciding that he was in too much of a hurry to walk, crawled the rest of the way to his father and raised his extended arms to him, asking to be held.

"What did you say, Bennet?" Fitzwilliam asked, seeing the same surprise on her wife's face. Bennet shook his arms up again, now demanding to be held. "Bennet, what did you say?"

"Papa."

Fitzwilliam picked up his son while trying to hide that his eyes were teary at hearing his son calling him papa. He looked again at Elizabeth and she smiled.

"I have been speaking to him, telling him Papa was gone on business and would be home soon. I spoke about you every day and repeated that Papa would come back. It seems the word has finally stuck."

He held Bennet close to his chest and caressed the soft, short curls with his fingers.

"I shall go away on business more often if this is how I shall be welcomed back," he laughed and held back tears.

The rest of his welcome home was less emotional and it was not before long that his father was persuading him to join him in the study so they could discuss Pemberley and Fitzwilliam's business in town. However, when Fitzwilliam accepted and started following his father, his son was not all too happy to separate himself from his own father. The trembling, pouting lip was indication enough that a full-blown crying session was about to begin.

"It is time for his nap," Elizabeth said.

"Let him nap with me, then," Fitzwilliam said, hoisting Bennet onto his arms. "I am afraid I agree with him. We would not like to separate again."

Bennet smiled at winning the battle and was happily carried to the study.

"You must be good if you want to stay with us," Fitzwilliam warned his son as he sat in front of his father and put Ben on his lap. The boy seemed to have understood his father's tone, for he sat still, playing with the wooden horse Fitzwilliam had brought him from London, his eyelids closing sleepily. "I hope you do not mind, Father."

"Of course not," Mr. Darcy said.

After an hour talking about the estate, the tenants, and the servants, Mr. Darcy asked about his son's trip to town and was given a short account of Fitzwilliam's stay in London.

"I want to thank you for going in my stead," Mr. Darcy said. "I know it was not pleasant for you to be away from Elizabeth and Bennet."

"It was not, but I would not risk your health, Father. I am happy you are recovered."

"He missed you terribly," the older man smiled, watching his grandson curled up on Fitzwilliam's chest. "He kept looking for you and staring out the window. Elizabeth teased him constantly, saying he looked more like you than ever as he gazed out of every window."

Fitzwilliam laughed quietly so as not to wake the small boy on his chest. "I missed him exceedingly, too." He looked at his son in his arms, watching the impossibly long eyelashes resting on pink cheeks, the small, round mouth that was sucking on his thumb, and the way his other hand clutched at his new toy even as he slept placidly. He was sure that there was not a more precious child in the world. "I went to White's last week to meet with Hamilton, Jackson, and Morris."

Although Mr. Darcy was surprised by the change of topic, he nodded. "They went to Cambridge with you, did they not?"

"Indeed. They are all fathers. Hamilton's son is only a few months older than Bennet."

Now that he understood the connection to their previous conversation, he laughed. "So now you could join the conversation about children?"

"Not at all," Fitzwilliam replied, wrapping his arms more securely around his son and resting them on his back. "They spoke of fencing, politics, and their estates while I babbled about Bennet like a fool. When they noticed it was the only subject I could talk about, they indulged me and told me about their children, but..."

"But?"

"They told me their names, their approximate ages, and that the boys were sturdy and the girls beautiful."

"What is wrong with that?"

"Nothing, but it seemed as if those were the only things they knew about their children. There was no mention of the things their children liked, the things they could do, their personalities, their gestures... while I rattled away about Bennet's love for strawberries and the way he stains all of his clothes and face when he eats them, or that he likes to hold people's ears when he is sleepy, or that he does not seem to fear anything and laughs all day like his mother."

"You know your son," Mr. Darcy concluded. "But it is quite common for most gentlemen to only know their children's name, age, and constitution."

"They are only heirs, I suppose, though I confess I do not understand it. How can they not feel a deeper connection to a person they made? To someone that is a part of them? To their own flesh and blood?"

"I do not know. I always felt that connection to my own children and I am proud that you do, too."

"I wonder..." he hesitated.

"Yes?"

"I wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that we love our wives. Hamilton, Morris, and Jackson are good, honourable gentlemen who respect their wives, but they married for convenience. I do not detect love or affection when they speak of them, which is only rarely. I wonder if I would have been a different father if I had married for convenience before I met Elizabeth."

Mr. Darcy was silent for a minute, considering his son's words. "I cannot imagine you being a bad or neglectful father either way, but I admit that Elizabeth has softened you to such a degree that you are far more affectionate towards everyone."

Fitzwilliam smiled humourlessly and rested his chin gently on Bennet's head. "So perhaps I might have known a little about my child but I would definitely not be holding him asleep in your study while we speak of work."

"It serves no purpose to imagine what might have been, Son. You married a woman you love and you are holding a child that you love not only because he is your heir, but because you know him and he is a wonderful boy."

"I must thank you and Mother."

"For what?" Mr. Darcy asked, surprised.

"Before I met Elizabeth, I often thought I might as well marry for convenience and stopped all the circus around my eligibility. The only thing that stopped me was seeing your relationship with Mother and fearing disappointing you. I cannot imagine the agony I would have suffered if I had met the love of my life while married to another, for there is no doubt in my mind that I could not have met Elizabeth and not love her, no matter the situation."

"It would have been a horrible situation for everyone—you, your wife, and Elizabeth."

Fitzwilliam scoffed. "Probably not for Elizabeth. She would never have known. I would have been married to a woman I might feel friendship towards, instead of loving her like a man loves his wife, like I love Elizabeth."

"As I said before," Mr. Darcy insisted. "It did not happen."

"No, and I have to thank you for that," Fitzwilliam said before he lowered his head and kissed his son's forehead, inhaling his wonderful unique scent before standing up. "I shall make sure that Bennet understands the difference when he is older. For now, I shall take him to his bed. Thank you, Father."


He was exhausted. The long journey from London to Pemberley, which he had done in record time to see his wife and son, had drained his energy and he was looking forward to lying on his comfortable bed with his warm wife. She had retired half an hour earlier claiming tiredness, but he had not been so fortunate, for Richard, Steven, and Bingley had demanded he take a drink with them. By the time he managed to escape them, he could feel his eyelids falling and he feared he might fall asleep while walking up the stairs. He opened the door to Elizabeth's bedchamber and all his exhaustion seemed to disappear in a second when he saw his wife standing in the middle of the room in her nightgown with a look of desire in her eyes that he could not mistake. She smiled mischievously and dropped the nightgown, revealing her glorious, naked body underneath.

"You forgot your chemise, my darling?" he teased.

"I forget nothing. Welcome home, Husband. Shall I stand here all night?"

"Minx!" he exclaimed, delighted that she was back to her confident, bold self.

Any doubts about how beautiful she was or how much he desired her had disappeared long ago. The lines in her belly, which had embarrassed her so much the year before, were now white and mostly invisible, and her skin was, in his eye, as perfect as it had always been. Since she had stopped nursing two months ago—Bennet's choice, not hers—her breasts were not as swollen as they had been, but to his delight, they remained larger than they had been before she was with child.

"I am getting cold, Mr. Darcy. It is very ungentlemanly of you to leave me here to freeze."

He grinned at her impertinence and walked to her until he was standing so close he could smell her scent, but he was still not touching her. He leaned down and whispered in her ear:

"I shall warm you up, then, Mrs. Darcy." His warm breath caressed her neck and made her shiver before she was suddenly swept into his arms and thrown onto the bed. "But you shall have to be patient with me. I am quite exhausted."

"Well, then," she smiled mischievously at him before she swung them around so she was on top of him, and with more confidence than she had ever felt in her two and twenty years, she whispered seductively: "I shall do all the work for you, Mr. Darcy. Lie back and enjoy."

It was the most arousing thing he had ever heard in his life and he could only nod like a green boy as his wife took over. Since he was a smart man, he obeyed his wife, lay back and enjoyed one of the delights of being back home.


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.