Darcy & Elizabeth: Nights and Days at Pemberley (Pride & Prejudice Continues)

436 Pages·2006·2.12 MB·English

by  Linda Berdoll

Darcy
Elizabeth
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Pride and Prejudice continues
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Hold on to your bonnets…
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y nights and days at Pemberley
M
r. and Mrs. Darcy have an exceedingly passionate
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marriage in this continuing saga of one of the most
exciting, intriguing couples in the Jane Austen literature.
As the Darcys raise their babies, enjoy their conjugal

felicity and manage the great estate of Pemberley, the beloved
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characters from Jane Austen’s original are joined by Linda
Berdoll’s imaginative new creations for a compelling, sexy P
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and epic story guaranteed to keep you turning the pages and i
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W hat people are saying about Mr. Darcy Takes a Wife, e
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the bestselling Pride & Prejudice sequel. o
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“A breezy, satisfying romance.” —Chicago Tribune
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“While there have been other Pride and Prejudicesequels, this one, with s
its rich character development, has been the most enjoyable.”
—Library Journal
“Wild, bawdy and utterly enjoyable sequel.” —Booklist
a novel
Fiction $16.95 U.S.
$23.95 CAN BERDOLL
£9.99 UK
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ISBN-10: 1-4022-0563-5 51695 Sourcebooks LLIINNDDAA BBEERRDDOOLLLL
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Copyright © 2004 by Linda Berdoll
Cover and internal design © 2004 by Sourcebooks,Inc.
Cover photo © Simon Carter Gallery,Woodbridge,Suffolk,UK/Bridgeman Art Library
Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks ofSourcebooks,Inc.
All rights reserved.No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any
electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval sys-
tems—except in the case ofbriefquotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—
without permission in writing from its publisher,Sourcebooks,Inc.
Published by Sourcebooks,Inc.
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The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously.
Any similarity to real persons,living or dead,is purely coincidental and not intended
by the author.
Library ofCongress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Berdoll,Linda.
Mr.Darcy takes a wife:Pride and prejudice continues / by Linda Berdoll.
p.cm.
ISBN 10:1-4022-1530-4
ISBN 13:978-1-4002-1530-8(alk.paper)
1. Darcy,Fitzwilliam (Fictitious character)— Fiction.2. Bennet,Elizabeth (Fictitious
character)—Fiction. 3. Married people—Fiction. 4. England—Fiction. I. Austen,
Jane,1775-1817.Pride and prejudice.II.Title.
PS3552.E6945M7 2004
813'.54--dc22
2003027655
Printed and bound in the United States ofAmerica
BG 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11
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Darcy
Elizabeth
&
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prologue
The inestimable Jane Austen had penned only six books when she died in 1817
at age forty-one.Pride and Prejudice,her third work,was published in 1813
and has been judged by many to be the finest novel in the English language.The
story of the courtship of the beautiful and spirited Elizabeth Bennet and the
handsome but haughty Mr.Darcy is as brilliant as it is brief.
As remarkable a writer as she was, Miss Austen wrote only of what a
respectable unmarried woman in Regency society would be privy to.Therefore,
Pride and Prejudiceconcludes with the nuptials.Regrettably,in ending her story
upon the very cusp of what undoubtedly would be a marriage of unrivalled
passion,she has gifted many of her readers with an unfortunate case of literary
coitus interruptus.
This hunger has spawned a prolificacy ofsequels—most attempting to replicate
the original in restraint, if not wit. Readers of sequels seem to fall into two
categories—those who are longing to learn what Darcy might have whispered into
Lizzy’s ear in their nuptial chamber,and those who fall into a swoon at the notion
ofsuch heresy.
Ifyou,dear reader,happen to fall into the latter category,we offer this caution
before you read further:Hang on to your bonnet,you’re in for a bumpy ride.
As our story recommences,all should be bliss within the Darcy household.At
long last,Lizzy has birthed an heir and Darcy is again by her side.Motherhood,
however,has not only rendered her busy and distracted,childbirth itself has left
her temporarily “indisposed.”Although Darcy’s heart aches for what his Lizzy has
endured,it is not the throbbing ofhis heart that is most troubling to his serenity—
it is the palpable pain in his loins…
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1
N
ew Pleasures Proved
To all the world,the month ofJune in the Year ofOur Lord 1815 would come
to be known as the season ofWaterloo.To the members ofthe Darcy house-
hold,it would be called that,but not remembered as such.Far too many other
events ofgreater personal importance to them had transpired to remember it so
simply.
Although France was the conquered,England paid a harsh price for its victory.
The county of Derbyshire was not immune to that heavy toll.So vast were the
repercussions, they were felt even within the usually impenetrable walls of
Pemberley.Lives were lost,marriages brought about,and babies born all in the
space ofa few months.
Having weathered these many woes within the bosom ofher very own family,
Elizabeth Darcy felt exquisitely compensated by the two babes nestled in her
arms. Indeed, that her husband had survived war, quarantine, brigands, and
pestilence and returned to her whole was all she desired.What wiles he employed
and whose auspices he availed himself of as he trekked through the battlefields
and drawing-rooms ofFrance to accomplish his mission ofrescuing his sister was
of no importance to her.Of even less concern was that the emissary he chose to
send word to her of his progress was a woman with whom he had once shared
uncommon intimacy.Indeed,when at last he had returned to his wife’s waiting
arms, all question of his connection with that beautiful woman was forgot.At
least at first,but not for long.
Ofeven less importance was whether George Wickham was actually dead and
buried or gallivanting about the Continent.
Whilst Wickham’s fate remained unknown,there were other vexations.What
with Mrs. Darcy labouring to withstand a growing curiosity (approaching to
eclipse the Alps in dimension) as to just what went on between her husband and
his fetching French emissary,and Mr.Darcy labouring with equal vigour to with-
stand a desire for his nursing wife aroused to a similar degree,a dance ofuncom-
mon peculiarity commenced.
It extended well into the next year.
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2
M
r. Darcy’s Dilemma
In the year ’15,Fitzwilliam Darcy was five years more than thirty.Yet,save for a
smattering of grey begging to invade his side-whiskers,neither his figure nor
his bearing had been influenced unfavourably by time or its toll.He was still a tall,
handsome-featured man ofgood leg.However,his impressive aspect had recently
begun to be worried by a single fault.
The imposing manner he had struggled with such resolve to vanquish in order
to win Elizabeth Bennet’s hand had resurfaced with a vengeance.Indeed,never
was a chin more imperious,the turn ofa countenance more proud.It was as ifhe
once again stood,with all arrogance and disdain,at that country ball in Meryton
absolutely refusing to dance.Granted,this supercilious turn was little noticed by
those outside his immediate circle.He had always been reticent,but while he had
once used a shield of arrogance to defend his social discomfort, this was an
unease ofa different sort.
On a fine day in autumn,decorum forced Mr.Darcy to engage in polite dis-
course with a gathering ofneighbours.As was his habit,he stood transfixed as if
a fastidiously tailored statue, with both hands in graceful repose behind an
extraordinarily straight back.As Master of Pemberley Hall and a generous por-
tion ofDerbyshire County,his lack ofa title was rendered irrelevant to those who
kept account ofsuch matters.His attitude rarely altered upon these public occa-
sions.He presented himself by resting his weight on one foot,the other slightly
foremost.Although in this posture his highly polished boots were seen to great
advantage,it was not an air—it was a statement ofeminence.
The statement of societal eminence was overt, but with this stance came an
additional announcement—one quite explicit.For from those tall boot-tops up-
welled a pair oflegs bearing the unmistakable muscularity particular to one who
devoted a good many hours to riding his horse.Moreover,his fashionable mole-
skin breeches bore an unambiguous bulge which did not originate (unlike those
of many fashionable young bloods) from a carefully wadded shirt-tail.Given all
that and the casual grace with which Mr.Darcy moved,there could be absolutely
no supposition that concurrent to holding the offices of wealth and leisure was
Mr.Darcy any part ofa fop.
The only visible evidence of the horrors he had encountered upon his bold
excursion to rescue his sister the summer past were those silver threads infiltrating
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his side-whiskers.(Behind the backs ofhands,a few cynics suggested that embark-
ing upon such a venture alone rather than sending his men was proof that Mr.
Darcy was simply barking mad.) But it was of little importance to him that his
actions were believed to be in any way heroic.Indeed,he would have cared not at
all had he heard the twittering,but as it was,Mr.Darcy’s ears heard little.They were
recovering yet from a near-miss by a blunderbuss.As a man whose fortune was
exceeded only by his pride,this loss ofhearing was a closely guarded confidence.
Herein,providence did bestow some fortune.This,because for the whole ofhis
life Mr.Darcy had been understood to regard idle conversation with undue wari-
ness.When forced to converse,he often did so in monosyllables.It was said that
he would but utter a word when he could not safely escape with a nod.A nod,
offered with a soupçon of cunning,said volumes—particularly when one heard
little ofthe conversation.
Waterloo and its aftermath still hung heavily in the thoughts ofthe entire pop-
ulation of the land. In the months thereafter, little else occupied general dis-
course. Indeed, although absolute facts were spare, gossip was rampant
surrounding Mr.Darcy’s mysterious pursuit across the Channel particularly,and
his family’s activities in general,during those months.
All of this prattle was not unbeknownst to Mr.and Mrs.Darcy.That was the
true impetus for them to endure society’s demands to see and be seen in the dif-
ficult months that followed Darcy’s return.They knew it was mandatory not to
surrender to the urge to close ranks.The death ofElizabeth’s father granted them
at least a year’s reprieve,but they dared not take it.That would have been a capit-
ulation.In their absence from society every rumour that abounded would have
been repeated and exaggerated.The trip from scuttlebutt to outright scandal was
but a short leap.With every fibre oftheir beings Mr.and Mrs.Darcy abhorred this
pretence ofnormalcy,but defence ofthe Darcy name demanded it.With all that,
upon the occasion ofsuch a gathering as the one they hosted that day,it was not
in any way regarded as a party.
Regardless ofthe occasion,it was Darcy’s habit to claim a place upon his lawn
overlooking a particularly pretty prospect. It was only one of the many in his
rather estimable estate,but it served a specific duty.Darcy was only able to toler-
ate the toadying by looking beyond the genuflection ofkith and kin and taking in
the view.The neighbours,who competed for audience before him exhibiting an
adequate level ofsycophancy believed compulsory towards a man ofhis station,
were menfolk.Mrs.Darcy kept the ladies at bay with the proffering of ices and
exhibiting the considerable charms oftheir younglings beneath the vine-covered
loggia that adorned Pemberley’s east wing.From amidst the male enclave came
the predictable masculine talk—crops,politics,and the weather.Although there
was an abundance ofdiscord to explore upon all these topics,it was Sunday after-
noon,and this assemblage dared not offend the Sabbath with less than geniality.
And Darcy,with inherent magnanimity,endeavoured to bid consideration to all,
but favour to none.He bowed with such grace and nodded with such sufficiently
aloof benevolence—precisely as he would had he heard every word—not a soul
suspected anything amiss.
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Yet another sense beyond the auditory Darcy protected by claiming that view.He
protected his sight as well.For thus engaged,he kept his gaze from alighting upon
his beloved wife.The very sight of her had always soothed not only his manners,
but his soul.Of late,that device had been little employed.He was quite unaware
that this failure allowed his guests to note that his temper was far less amenable
since his return.And that fanned further speculation.Although it would have been
a great disappointment to the scandal-mongers,his appearance ofbeing somewhat
out ofspirits was nothing as dramatic as having “been to the wars.”
It was quite true;in company he was often out oftemper oflate.However life-
altering the throes of war had been,those memories did not ignite his pique.It
sprung from a far less noble origin—the one ruled not by his heart,but a place a
bit south and,for men at least,an often more influential region—his aching loins.
Hence,as the gentlemen ofDerbyshire bobbed and weaved in deference to him
as only free-born Englishmen could,little did they suppose that beneath that wall
ofhauteur,their dignified host struggled to kennel a most undignified hunger.
3
I
ntrusion into the Master’s
Bedchamber
In the year ’15,life was forever altered in the Darcy household—and not just
within the hallowed halls that traversed Pemberley’s two-hundred-odd rooms.
Much to the master’s qualified displeasure,an alteration also bechanced the mas-
ter’s bedchamber.
From the beginning oftheir life together,Mr.and Mrs.Darcy defied convention
and took their sleep together. The master’s bedchamber and the mistress’s bed-
chamber had always been one and the same.Hence,when it came time to receive
her newborns,Elizabeth believed it only fitting that she do so in the same bed in
which they had been conceived.Although that decision was made in his absence,
initially Mr.Darcy saw no reason for alarm.As time wore on and his sleep was dis-
turbed and his nerves a bit frayed,he still held firm to that judgement.Ifit was a
choice between Mrs.Darcy and two little ones in his bed or no Mrs.Darcy in his
bed at all,he saw little to argue.Hence,it was without audible complaint that he
withstood the continued intrusion of two red-faced, interminably squalling
infants as they took his rightful place in his adored wife’s embrace.
There were other issues of propriety,however.Initially,Darcy thought it only
proper to withdraw when the babies were brought to Elizabeth to nurse.
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“I shall trespass no longer upon your privacy,”he said stiffly.
But he had been away for so very long,she was loath to allow him leave her side
at all.
“My privacy is yours as well,sir,”she tartly reminded him,then gently,“Please
stay.We have been so very long apart,I long for your company.Furthermore,if
you excuse yourselffrom me when I am in this attitude—I am so often thus—ere
long I shall not know your face.”
Jane Bingley had been devoted to her sister’s convalescence,but anticipated the
intimate turn oftheir conversation and had betaken herselfto find occupation in
another room.As for Darcy,every consolation to his wife was his ambition.Even
so,he found it oddly unnerving to share the same room with his wife’s undraped
breast in the company of others—even if only her maid Hannah and the wet-
nurse Mrs.Littlepage.He chastised himselffor entertaining such petty qualms.To
be disordered by one’s lessers was insupportable—a failing to overcome.He had
gained forbearance ofElizabeth’s maid’s bustling about over the years.Thereby he
lectured himselfthat a nurse was no different and set about ignoring her presence
as well.Decorum was still a sizable consideration to him,but for some time it had
been set aside in favour ofpleasing Elizabeth.Hence,however reluctantly,he did
as she bid and did not take his leave.
Although confessed to no further disconcertion,his posture whilst Elizabeth
nursed was quite formal.Indeed,it replicated the stance that he took upon more
formal occasions—weight balanced on one foot, his hands carefully clasped
behind him.Even after many days ofwitnessing ofthese feeding rituals,he stood
with such rigidity that his wife grew impatient with such a display ofreserve—he
had certainly had time to acclimate himselfto the doings.She believed her moth-
erly duties to be no less than a communion—one that should be cherished by
them both. Other husbands might eschew such an intimacy, but not hers. She
knew better ofhis nature.He had no need ofdefending his manhood from what
might be accused ofbeing a purely womanly pursuit.What was important to her
was important in equal measure to him.Their long separation and lately arrived
parenthood could not have altered that.She would not allow it.
“Pray,come to me,”she bid,holding out her hand.
He took a step in her direction but again reclaimed the same formal posture
and undertook maintaining it with unflinching diligence.
“Nearer,please,”she insisted.
He dutifully shuffled his feet a bit, but he moved not an inch nearer. If she
hoped for conversation,she was to be disappointed there as well for he spoke not
a word until their son was at last sated.Thereupon he issued a small exclamation
ofapproval.
“Ah,”said he.
He was clearly ofa mind that was the extent ofhis duty as a doting father,for
thereupon a complacent smile overspread his countenance.
From her place propped up amongst the pillows,Elizabeth looked not half so
happy. She wiped Geoffrey Darcy’s tiny chin and then handed him off to Mrs.
Littlepage.Nurse carried him across the room and placed him in an ornately carved