Abigail Reynolds - To Conquer Mr. Darcy

She stroked his hair tenderly, sensing the strong emotions he was working to suppress. “Will you tell me about it, love?” she asked gently.

He gave her a startled look. “About why I fear losing you?”

She smiled at him understandingly. “No, William, about your mother.” She held her breath awaiting his reaction.

It did not come immediately. “Elizabeth, my dearest love, forgive me; that is a subject that I find very difficult to discuss,” he finally said carefully.

Elizabeth’s instinct was to reassure him that he need say nothing that he did not wish, but she knew that would not serve. She simply waited, reminding herself of the importance of this. At last he sighed. “You are not going to rest until I accommodate you, are you?”

She shook her head. “I am afraid that I will not, given that her ghost threatens to stand between us.”

He acknowledged her point with a quirk of his eyebrow. “What would you like to know, then?”

She smoothed his hair from his face. “Can you tell me what happened?”

He closed his eyes, a pained look on his face. “Once, when I was young, perhaps seven or eight, I was tormenting my mother with complaints about why our family had no other children, and demanding a little brother. Her spirits were quite lively in those days, but I recall that she had tears in her eyes when she told me that the doctors had said that it would not be safe for her to have another child. I gather there was some cause for concern at my birth that led them to this conclusion. Needless to say, I felt ashamed of upsetting her, and the moment stayed with me as a result. When it became clear a few years later that she had acted against the advice of the doctors, I could tell that my father was greatly concerned, although my mother seemed not to be. I did not know who to believe, but it weighed heavily on my mind.”

He sighed before continuing. “You have no doubt heard that she was very ill after Georgiana’s birth. I remember that she was well and happy one day, then the next everyone was speaking in hushed whispers, and I was told that my mother might not be with us much longer. As it happened, that stage lasted for months. She was too ill even to hold Georgiana, but she seemed to find some comfort in having me sit with her, so I spent hours each day at her side, talking to her, reading aloud, or just bearing her company, and wondering if she would see the next dawn.” His voice caught, and he stopped speaking.

She sought to bring him back to the present by kissing him tenderly. “Where was your father during that time?”

“I hardly saw him,” Darcy said tightly, leashed anger apparent in his voice. “He knew that he was responsible for what had happened, and he could not face her. And poor Georgiana was a victim as well. None of us had time for her, and she was left to the wet-nurse and Mrs. Reynolds.”

Puzzled, Elizabeth asked, “What had your father done, that he was responsible for your mother’s illness?”

He turned his head to look at her, his gaze dark and penetrating. “The same that I have done, to be responsible for the risk you face.”

She sat up, appalled by his words. “William, do you blame yourself for my condition?”

His voice was steely as he said, “You did not create the situation by yourself, and we are both aware which of us insisted on the circumstances that led to it.”

“William, this is not a cause for regrets, but for rejoicing! It is a normal part of life, and you are not at fault for sharing my bed. I would have it no other way! From what little you have said, it sounds as if your mother wanted another child desperately, and was pleased by her condition. I do not know where you came upon this idea that it was something your father forced upon her, but I insist that you disabuse yourself of it immediately!”

His look was impenetrable. “She never recovered, Elizabeth. She improved, certainly, but she never regained her vitality, and was never again the lively, witty woman she once was. Yet five years later, he did it again, but that time we all knew what was to come to pass. I watched her fade away for months, and one evening I bade her good night, and the next morning Mrs. Reynolds told me that she was no longer with us.” His voice was raw with grief.

She looked at him steadily, seeing the confusion of the boy he had been, losing his mother to death and his father to grieving, his understanding of the situation limited, but trying to take on the responsibility of an adult through it all. “William,” she said gently, “would you have denied your parents the comfort of each other’s love? What happened to your mother was tragic, but it was no one’s fault.”

He was silent for some time, moving only to stroke her hair. “Elizabeth, my family was never the same afterwards. My father grieved for years, and he and I were not the best of friends afterwards, because I reminded him too much of my mother, and I blamed him for her death. That was when George Wickham made his way into my father’s confidence, and I fear made some efforts to turn him against me. It was a bitter time.”

“I am so sorry, my dearest. How unfortunate that you in some ways lost both parents at the same time, and at a difficult age.”

He turned onto his side to face her. “It took you to bring the joy back to Pemberley, my love,” he said with intense feeling.

“Oh, William,” she replied, her heart aching for his losses.

“I mean it, Elizabeth. There was always grief here, to one extent or another, after my mother’s death, and although the loss impacted me less once I was out in society, I became trapped in another net, one of people who valued me only as a commodity. I became world-weary and cynical. There were so few people whose affection I trusted—and then I met you, with your liveliness and wit and infectious smiles, everything I had lacked for all those years.” He paused for a moment to kiss her with an emotional urgency. “So you can see, my dearest, most beloved Elizabeth, why the thought of losing you torments me.”

She held his face in her hands, gazing into his eyes. “I can see why my condition will raise unhappy memories for you, dearest, but you have no reason to fear for me,” she said steadily. “I am not your mother, and the past is not the present. So long as you are able to tell me what you feel, we can share this burden, but I will not allow you to have the past predict the future.”

He gathered her into his arms. “Darling Elizabeth,” he murmured, his voice evidencing a slight quiver.

She held him tightly, speaking endearments quietly in his ear, until she felt his body releasing its tension. “All will be well, my dearest,” she whispered.

“I shall require a great deal of reassurance of that,” he replied in a muffled voice, turning to kiss her tenderly.

“I will be happy to reassure you whenever you like,” she said lightly, “because I know that your worries are groundless.” She gave him a teasing smile, then added, “I can offer this as proof of my position: as nearly as I can judge, every servant at Pemberley has known of my condition for weeks, and their only thought has been to protect you from the knowledge of it.”

He turned a startled stare on her. “No,” he said disbelievingly.

An amused smile curved her mouth. “Yes. You have a very devoted household.”

He rolled onto his back, covering his face with his hands. “There is no privacy to be had as Master of Pemberley,” he said with bemused regret.

“None, so far as I can see. Fortunately, you do still have a few consolations.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “What consolations do you have in mind, my love?”

She smiled slowly and ran her hand down his side slowly. “Tell me what you would like,” she whispered provocatively.