Chapter 2

Jane Bennet opened the nursery door of Starvet House humming a soft lullaby as the nursemaid, Sarah, sat on a stool with her own babe nursing from her bosom. Jane tiptoed into the room to peer in the basket and spy her wide-eyed nephew gazing up at her with a smile on his face.

“Has he nursed?” Jane asked.

“Aye, Miss Jane. I always feed Master Robin before suckling my own. If I let little Henry eat first, there may be none left for the babe,” Sarah chuckled, beaming down at her son who was many months older than the newest addition to the Bennet family.

Scooping her nephew into her arms, Jane naturally swayed back and forth, rocking the babe against her chest. His little fist pushed out from his swaddling and Jane knew his purpose. She happily obliged by offering her smallest finger for him to hold. The young man wasted no time in moving his aunt’s finger to his mouth to suckle in comfort.

“I believe Master Robin and I shall take our daily walk now.”

The nursemaid nodded, not that she held any authority to tell Miss Jane otherwise. She was pleased to see at least one member of the family treating the boy with affection. It was all a poor, motherless, bastard child could hope for.

Jane carried Robert Bennet down the hall and to a spare room on the far end of the third story. She suspected at one time it was likely a suite for the nanny employed to care for any children of the home.

A rocking chair rested in front of the windows with the most beautiful view of the Scottish moors. Taking a seat, Jane watched the day’s sun diligently burn off the morning fog spread across the land. She sang softly to young Robin and as the babe’s eyes fluttered closed, she gently kissed the top of his forehead.

“Your mama would have loved you at first sight and never given you up,” she whispered to the sleeping babe she rescued the night of his horrific birth. The same night had taken the life of the youngest Bennet sister, Lydia. “And neither shall I.”

“We discussed your attachment… “

The voice of her sister startled Jane slightly in the rocking chair, but she maintained her composure so as not to jostle the baby awake.

“Ssh, he sleeps.”

Elizabeth Darcy joined her sister, standing over the chair to gaze down at her nephew’s innocent sleeping form. Seeing him suck on Jane’s finger reminded Elizabeth of Lydia’s same habit until she was taken away to be nursed and not returned home until weaned of a mother’s milk and toddling around. Even in her early childhood years, young Lydia would always handle her fears and trepidations by sucking her thumb. Elizabeth marveled that such a habit would follow naturally to her nephew without him ever knowing his mother.

“You know the Watsons will be here at the end of the month to take Robin away. We must hold fast to the plan, hard as it may be.”

“The plan did not include Lydia dying in childbirth,” Jane said as her voice caught.

Elizabeth Darcy rubbed her temples. Since the day after Robert’s birth, she had been caught in a tempest of wills between her husband Darcy and her sister Jane. Surveying the room, Elizabeth carefully lifted the dust-covered sheet covering what appeared to be another chair. She was rewarded with an ancient wooden specimen, embellished with intricate hand carvings. Dragging the chair to the window, she felt the wooden legs wobble and protest over the movement and hesitated to trust the furniture to hold her. Ultimately, she took a seat. A firm discussion was long overdue.

“You are so altered from when last I saw you.” Jane opened her mouth to protest, but Elizabeth held up her hand. “I noticed it before Lydia …” Elizabeth swallowed at uttering her sister’s name. “Upon your arrival, truthfully. I am not leaving this … this” Elizabeth glanced around to find an adequate word to describe their dwelling, but finding none, continued “this room until you tell me plainly the events since my wedding.” For good measure, Elizabeth crossed her arms and sat back in the chair, ignoring the additional wobble she felt beneath her from shifting her weight.

Jane gazed out at the fog barely holding onto the fields and trees, nearly decimated now by the sun’s powerful rays. She took a deep breath. If she told Lizzie everything, Jane was certain her sister would understand and support her position to take care of the family business in the manner she had always planned. At the moment, there was nothing she would not risk for the handsome infant boy in her arms.

“It began when I called off my understanding with Mr. Bingley,” Jane paused, wondering how best to describe the fright of the afternoon, which now months later, sounded only comical, even to her ears.

“Go on, I understand you were supported in your decision by the Earl and the Countess, no?”

Jane’s head snapped at her sister’s tone of indifference. “It was not so easy as it sounds. I endured jibes and taunts from his sister and the insult of exclusion from many events afterward. Lady Matlock was kind in hiding what she could, but I saw it all. And when I told Charles I no longer wished to be courted, he abused me. If Lady Matlock had not come in then, I am not so sure …”

“You were attacked by Charles Bingley? Physically?” Elizabeth could not believe the affable man she knew could be responsible for such behavior.

“He grabbed my arms and kissed me, without my consent. I struck him in the nose with my fist.”

Her mouth agape, Elizabeth’s first reaction was one of concern. She didn’t laugh, she didn’t tease, and Jane soon felt comfortable to reveal the sordid truth. What truly happened at the ball when the punch was spilled on Mary, the near constant unsavory attention of a viscount and about fighting for her life from the attempted rape by that same viscount at the Fitzwilliam country estate.

The younger of the two sisters sat dumbstruck at hearing the harm and danger her sister had survived and hid in the interest of protecting her family name.

When little Robert began to stir in Jane’s arms, both sisters were freely sobbing. Poor little Robin awoke to such distress he added his own wails to the situation for good measure.

“Here, let me take him. You should rest. It could not have been easy to share all that burdened you for so long. I wish … I wish you had told me sooner.” Elizabeth stretched out her arms, in vain.

“No, truly, I shall take him to the nursery. He needs fresh clothes. I am relieved to no longer carry so much alone, but I could not have added this weight to you before. Not then.” Jane rubbed her nose to little Robert’s, distracting the baby for a moment and getting him to turn his attentions to his aunt’s smile and coos.

Elizabeth reflected for a moment if Jane was perhaps correct. Would she have been able to endure the news of the horrors of society when her sister first arrived while in the throes of handling Lydia? Thinking ill of her departed sister pierced her heart with fresh guilt and remorse. The very act of breathing took all her concentration. Gulping for air, she steadied her emotions and smoothed the black skirts she had been unable to wear when they lost their father a year ago. At least while residing privately in Scotland, both she and Jane were adamant to mourn their Lydia.

“Lizzie?” Jane interrupted her sister’s thoughts as she and the baby were already by the door. With a slight cock of her head, she signaled her sister to open the door. Elizabeth scurried to be of assistance and walked her sister to the nursery. The two parted after their customary search of the other’s eyes and smiling at one another, not as gaily as they had many times before, but with the new maturity of the women they were becoming.

Stopping in her suite of rooms to refresh her face, the sadness that had washed over Mrs. Darcy during her talk with her sister was quickly replaced with a new emotion, one of extreme anger. The Bennet family had suffered much in the name of society’s demands and Elizabeth was going to help put an end to it, once and for all. She left her apartments in a huff before her personal maid could offer assistance.

Striding through the halls of Starvet House brought Mrs. Darcy to the door of her husband’s study without delay. Elizabeth stood with her fist frozen in place. Perplexed as to whether she should knock or simply open the door and enter, she wavered between her husband’s possible reaction to either of the two entrances. Lowering her hand to the doorknob, her eyes narrowed to slits as she remembered the discussion she wished to have with him.

Elizabeth Darcy’s lithe figure slipped into the study and both men inside hastily stood from their chairs. Mr. Hamilton, their neighbor and longtime friend of the family, had finally been reduced to a minimal layer of bandages on his burnt hands. The night before they lost Lydia, his home, not five miles away, had burned down in an accidental fire, taking the lives of seven staff members.

With a look of amusement on his face, Fitzwilliam Darcy motioned in a welcoming gesture to his young wife.

“Mrs. Darcy, Hamilton and I were discussing sending for the Watsons to take the babe at their earliest convenience,” Darcy said as Elizabeth approached and they resumed their seats. He anticipated an announcement of the evening’s dinner plans or other household news, but his wife’s response soured his mood.

“I believe such action will not be necessary.”

“We appreciate it may not be necessary, but the longer Miss Bennet is allowed to bond with the child, the more difficult it will be to separate them,” Mr. Hamilton offered.

Elizabeth folded her arms in front of her chest. “And do you speak from personal experience, Mr. Hamilton?”

Darcy coughed, but Hamilton elaborated. “Last spring, my eldest sister was lost. Although my mother dearly wished to keep her grandchild, the child’s father took her away. My mother mourned twice, once for my sister and again for my niece when their vessel never arrived safely in America.”

Darcy cleared his throat. “My dear, I understand your sister’s sentiments –”

“No, Fitzwilliam, I do not believe you do,” Elizabeth snapped, her interruption attracting the attention of both men. “Your greatest argument against Jane caring for Robert begins with she is throwing her life away and needs to return to London to find a suitor, am I correct?”

Darcy nodded a single time allowing his wife to continue in her argument.

Elizabeth’s agitation began to make her tremble slightly as she held her arms straight down by her sides, and carefully enunciated each word. “You are not aware, sir, that my sister was most brutally attacked and injured during her time in London. Even in the safety of the home of your nearest relations!”

Darcy began to laugh slightly and held up his hand to make Elizabeth pause. “Not having a true London season before, I am not surprised your gentle sister found the social maneuverings of the Ton painful in their disdain –”

“Attempted rape is a far cry from disdain, sir.”

Darcy’s mouth dropped in shock as Mr. Hamilton winced. He had forgotten about the injuries to the palms of his hands and gripped the arms of his chair more forcefully on such a vile accusation. Miss Bennet was kind and quiet, what rogue could possibly wish to hurt such a delicate lady?

“Fear not. Your Fitzwilliam cousins, I am told, brutally punished the Viscount Torrington, but not before Jane had to physically fight him off and throw your aunt’s figurines at his head as a means to protect herself.” Elizabeth waited as the ghastly scene she had just become acquainted with herself sunk into the consciences of both gentlemen. “My sister will never seek another London season and I cannot reasonably be expected to contradict her,” she finished flatly.

Darcy sighed and rose from his chair to fetch another for his wife. Clearly, this was a weighty discussion well beyond a simple household matter. He would not ask Hamilton to rise from his wife’s normal seat, and instead offered the new chair to Elizabeth. She held out her hand and he gracefully led her to the richly upholstered seat.

Darcy returned to his desk, clasping his hands as his mind raced. Why hadn’t Richard sent a letter about the attack? He had no doubt of his sister-in-law’s claims. Viscount Torrington was a cad and used women like handkerchiefs whilst in town. Still, because Jane would not seek another season in London did not mean she was the most suitable guardian for the boy.

“While the attack on your sister is abhorrent, there is still no reason to delay the child from his future family. I respect your sister’s wishes concerning her living arrangements, but I cannot in good conscience arrive at the next conclusion that the child be best left in her care.”

“He is named for my father. We lost our dear sister, as well. You cannot ask Jane to give away Lydia’s only issue, a child she saved with her own two hands. It is God’s miracle the child breathes and you would cast him away from his family because you cannot see Jane as fit to be his guardian, his own flesh and blood?

“Your emotions are distracting you from the logic in this situation.”

“My emotions are what allow me to see this situation with perfect clarity, Fitzwilliam. Tell me, if you had lost Georgiana thus, would you cast her only child out to a tenant family?”

Darcy’s eyes flashed with anger equal to Elizabeth’s. Mr. Hamilton stuttered an offer to quit the study to give them privacy, but Darcy waved the offer away.

“Georgiana is my only sister. It is not possible I should lose her in such a manner.”

Elizabeth pursed her lips and leaned forward in her chair. “How dare you, sir! The number of sisters one has does not diminish the love one has for them. You said yourself Lydia easily could have been Georgiana. It was only last summer she nearly ran away with that evil man herself.”

Elizabeth’s heart clenched painfully in her chest, the nagging voice in her head screamed here was proof her husband truly had no honest respect for her family. Very near to saying words she knew she would most heartily regret, she concentrated on memories of the wonderful provider and protector Fitzwilliam had been since last winter. Rising from her chair, the gentleman did not bother to politely stand. She began to walk towards the door. Instead, her husband roared to life.

“Madame, we are not finished!”

Elizabeth turned as she reached the door and stared her husband square in the eye. “We are quite through, Fitzwilliam. The child’s last name is Bennet, not Darcy. This is a matter for the Bennet family. My sister is not without means, nor am I. Your only choices, dear husband, are to find a way in your heart to support our decision, or suffer the consequences of your mistake.” The foul word of error cut true. Feeling immediately guilty, Elizabeth Darcy tempered her words.

“I know you are not uncaring and once you reflect upon this matter with the information I have imparted, you will find a way to help Jane protect our nephew.” Elizabeth opened the study door to allow herself to exit.

The silence in Darcy’s study hung heavily in the air. Graham Hamilton had never seen such a forceful display of intellect and passion in a single woman. Without meaning to, he blew out a low whistle, attracting Darcy’s attention.

“I apologize you were privy to our quarrel. It is uncharacteristic of her to be so rude and I believe the loss of two family members weighs upon her.”

Graham relaxed in his chair and shrugged his elbows onto the armrests. “There is no need to apologize, Darcy. She parried your argument, won her points, and I daresay won the match. The only question is how do we support Miss Bennet with the child?”

Darcy raised an eyebrow at his old friend.

“We?”

The two gentlemen shared a moment of nonverbal agreement and Darcy opened his drawer to produce fresh parchment. With many matters to hammer out, Graham Hamilton and Fitzwilliam Darcy remained in the master’s study well over another hour.

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His fingers ink-stained and his cravat loosened, Mr. Darcy exited his study at last to find his wife. As he searched the main floor of Starvet House, he found the housekeeper, Mrs. Buchanan, overseeing two maids in the parlor.

“Pardon, have you seen Mrs. Darcy?”

The stocky woman turned round with a stormy expression for her master. She had seen the aftermath of Mrs. Darcy visiting the master’s study. “She left for one of her walks nigh an hour ago, sir.”

The coldness in Mrs. Buchanan’s voice startled Darcy but he was too worried about how long his wife had been out of doors to consider the loyalty of staff members to the master or the mistress of the house. With long strides, Darcy hastened to the rear of Starvet House to the convergence of the four paths he had shown his lovely wife the first day they arrived. He had no doubt as to which path Elizabeth had taken.

Despite the lofty heights of the seaside cliffs, Elizabeth Darcy metered her breaths to the metronome of crashing waves below. Seagulls cried out in the afternoon sun as they searched the rocks for prey. Resting upon her favorite stoney perch, she opened her eyes as another’s presence disturbed the sunlight beaming down behind her.

“She did so love the sea. I was so cross with her when we sailed here, but Lydia always lived life to the fullest. And I told her at every turn to live less.”

Elizabeth glanced to her right. A small stone marked the spot where her sister laid in peace, far from her childhood home. Although the property possessed an older graveyard for generations of Starvet House masters and staff, it did not seem appropriate to bury Lydia Bennet among them. Both sisters had requested Lydia rest by the sea.

Darcy took a seat next to his bride in black and extended his arm in comfort. “Tell me about your father.”

“My father?” Elizabeth’s tear-streaked face turned to search her husband’s for genuine interest.

He nodded. “I only met him on a handful of occasions, and Jane has told me how you were very close, spending hours in his study.”

Dragging her toe in the grassy stubble at the base of the rock, Elizabeth prepared to once more feel overwhelmed with emotions. “Papa was often accused of treating me as the son he never had. My mother often argued with him regarding my behavior, but he always protected me. On rainy days, we played chess or read together from Shakespeare.”

“He sounds like a man who recognized value when he saw it.”

Elizabeth’s face crumpled. “Oh, Fitzwilliam, I am so sorry I was cross with you earlier. I should not have yelled at you so in front of another.”

Darcy rubbed his hand most vigorously against the sleeve of his wife’s dress to warm her. The sun’s zenith long over, the air began to cool around them blowing from the sea. “No harm, madame, came to me from your words. Your silence is when I know I have lost your respect, though, that tongue of yours is sharp.”

He bent forward and pressed his forehead to hers in one of their private shows of affection. Elizabeth took the challenge and scrunched her nose in the impression of a rabbit, eliciting a deep, bellowing laugh from her husband. “I was wrong to dismiss the pain of losing your sister. You are correct, I would never be able to send away a child related to me by blood and I can hardly ask your family to do what I could not.”

For a moment, the newlyweds found solace with the simple physical contact between them, embracing. “Come, it’s growing colder by the hour and we have much to tell our sister.”

Elizabeth allowed her husband to assist her off the rock and tip her chin upwards to bestow a kiss to her lips. The warmth from his care spread from her lips down to her toes, and for a few paces she was utterly distracted by the man. Arriving at a bend in the path where she could now see their home in the distance, she recalled her wonder at Fitzwilliam’s delay in coming to her. Happily, she inquired about the plan he had arrived at in regards to their nephew.

“It is only fitting your eldest sister take guardianship of Master Robin and raise him here, at Starvet House.”

Jubilation bubbled from Elizabeth Darcy as she squeezed her husband’s arm in gratitude. “You are the best of husbands and the best of men.”

“You knew I would arrive at the plan you wished all along,” Darcy laughed, revealing he knew of his manipulation at her hands.

“Oh, well, you can hardly fault me for being a good wife who allows her husband to think of ideas on his own.” Elizabeth tucked her lower lip underneath her upper to keep herself from laughing. Her husband’s expression remained unreadable until she felt a distinct pinch to her waist. “Fitzwilliam!”

Darcy laughed. “You’ll be happy to know Mr. Hamilton will reside at Starvet House to help Jane become acquainted with the area and oversee the rebuilding of Blaylock.”

Nearing the edge of the back lawn of Starvet House, Elizabeth suspected Jane would be upset to be handled by someone so unfamiliar to her. But this was hardly the time to fight another battle with her husband when she had most triumphantly won the war.

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