“Trust me, Mr. Darcy. A reassurance of Elizabeth’s love for you is not what you should question. Give me your jacket, Mr. Darcy.” He did not know of what she asked. “Give me your jacket, Mr. Darcy, and then go ask Elizabeth why cigar smoke is bothering her.” She reached up and took his jacket from his shoulders.“Go,Mr. Darcy.” She caressed his cheek as he looked at her with bewilderment.
Darcy took the steps with his usual speed; his search for Elizabeth ended in their bedroom. She laid eyes closed—face down across the bed, a wet cloth in her hand. He entered tentatively. “Elizabeth?” He feared coming too near—not knowing why she kept retreating from him. “Elizabeth, please,” his voice pleaded with her senses. He moved cautiously to the foot of the bed.
Elizabeth sat up and looked at him. Darcy’s confusion and concern asked questions his mouth could not. Finally, he said, “Your aunt says I need to ask why cigar smoke bothers you. This makes little sense to me; would you care to explain to me what troubles you?”
Her tears could not be withheld. “Fitzwilliam,” she sobbed, “it was not supposed to be this way! I had it all planned!”
He came to the side of the bed and took her hand. “Had what planned? Elizabeth, this should make sense, but it does not; help me to understand.”
She nearly knocked him over when she jumped into his arms, hugging him tightly. On her knees on the bed, she was nearly as tall as he, and he did not have to bend to see her face. Her tears rolled down his neck as she buried her face, ashamed of what she had to say to him. “Elizabeth, there is nothing which could make me love you less.” He held her tightly to him and stroked the back of her head.
She would not look at him, but she did try to say what she needed to tell him. Still holding him as closely as she could, she spoke to the air, which surrounded them. “Fitzwilliam,” her voice was small and difficult to hear at first, “you slept in the same bed with me every night for two months, did you not notice I never suffered from . . . suffered from ....” This was harder to say than she expected.
“Suffered from what, Elizabeth?” He would like to look at her during this, but he would take what she was willing to give him so he continued to embrace her.
“Help me say it, Fitzwilliam.” She burrowed deeper into his shoulder.“From my female ....”
She knew he understood without her saying the words; the realization of what she just said shot through his body. He pulled back her tear-filled face. “Lizzy, please tell me it is true.”
“I am with child, Fitzwilliam. We will have a child the latter part of July or early August.”
She could not predict the reaction playing across his face. A shout of exhilaration grew from deep inside him as he picked her up and spun her around and around and smothered her face with kisses. “Elizabeth,” he said at last,“how long have you known?”
She dropped her eyes,“I suspected as such before the fall.”
“Why did you not tell me?”
“I wanted to be sure the fall did not endanger the child; I wanted to be sure all was well before I told you. I could not bear to hurt you.”
“Mr. Spencer has seen you?”
“Mr. Spencer knows and believes me to be healthy.”
“Then what happened downstairs?”
“The cigar smoke,” she looked embarrassed, “made me sick. I am sorry.” Her tears started again.
“Do not fret, Elizabeth. I will gladly give up cigars for such news as is yours.” Pulling her so close she was a part of him, he kissed her.“May we tell the others?”
“I cannot enter that room again, Fitzwilliam. I have made a fool of myself; plus, the smell of the smoke unsettles my stomach too much.”
“I will change my shirt; we will tell the others. I will ask the others to change also; all will be well.” Darcy kissed her quickly and started toward his dressing room.
“I cannot ask our guests to do so.” She looked at him helplessly.
“I cannot keep this news to myself, Elizabeth; our guests will understand.” He rushed back across the room to her, kissed her passionately, and then hurried to his chambers.
In the dressing room he began to change his clothes and wipe any trace of cigar smoke from his being. He moved quickly, using thetepid water to wash his face and arms, finally pouring more water over his head to wash fragments of the cigar smell from his hair.Elizabeth carried his child—an heir for Pemberley grew within her.The realization struck him, and Darcy sank into a chair—legs weak from the knowledge. He would be a father—a father; the news brought tears of joy to his eyes, and he buried his face in his hands.A baby—his baby—no more horseback rides for Elizabeth, and she must limit her walks. Maybe they should not spend so much time in acts of love—he had so many questions for Mr. Spencer—he would call on the man tomorrow.A baby—Elizabeth was to have his child.He had to go back to her; she must be in as much tumult as was he right now.
“Any traces of cigar smoke?” he asked, returning to their bedroom and taking Elizabeth in his arms. “When you said I could control your schedule after New Year’s, is this the reason? Is this why you have no energy lately and why you pick at your food?” Darcy caressed her face; it was as if he saw her differently somehow.
“I believe part of my problems of late has been my worry over the child’s safety and part of how you would take the news.”
“Did you think I would not be happy?”
“It is so much at once—the marriage—Pemberley—and now this. Can we handle all the changes in our life, Fitzwilliam, without it destroying our love?”
“Elizabeth, when I begged God to spare your life, I told him I would give up everything for you to be well again and to love me again.Then Georgiana said God has his plan for us; he gives us no more than what we can handle.”
