The Eldest Son
The Final Reason Sequel
by Ola




Prologue

Pemberley 1842



Elizabeth Darcy marched decidedly into her husband's study. Though reaching 50 years of age some time ago she was still a beautiful woman and preserved the youthful air around her.

“Did you get the letter from Cornwall?” she asked without preamble.

“Yes.” Fitzwilliam Darcy took her soft hand and kissed it lightly.

“What did Georgiana write? What keeps him there so long?” she asked impatiently.

“You were right. As always. It is because of the girl.”

“I knew it! Who is she?”

“Georgiana writes the lady is the only daughter of their neighbour, a country gentleman with a modest estate just a few miles from Kestle.”

“What is her name?”

“Abigail. She is one and twenty. Georgiana pronounced her to be very pretty, kind and well-educated. She attended a school for ladies in France. She draws, sings, plays piano-forte very well, and, mind my dear, it is my sister who says this. Moreover she speaks French, obviously, and Italian. Her mother died almost ten years ago in childbirth and she practically raised her younger brother on her own.”

“I like her already. She sounds perfect for him.” Elizabeth exclaimed, her eyes sparkling merrily.

“Well, yes, but there is a problem. Gina is afraid she does not hold our son in the highest esteem.”

“Oh, no! I imagine he got all tongue tied the he first time saw her and said something utterly inappropriate or stupid and alienated her with that haughty behaviour of his.”

“How do you know?” he asked incredulously.

“How do you think I know? You forget what you were like when his age?”

“I never…” he started in an offended air.

Elizabeth rolled her fine eyes at him “Oh, please. She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me.” she said, imitating perfectly her husband's baritone.

Fitzwilliam drew her to him, and nestling his head on her chest murmured, “Oh, Lizzy it was over 30 years ago. Will you ever forgive me?”

She ruffled his grey curls, kissing them lightly and said softly, “Of course I forgave you; a long, long time ago. But this Abigail probably does not know Andrew as well as I know you. She does not know he is just shy. So what did our son do?”

“Here read this yourself.” he said handling her the letter.

Elizabeth skimmed the text quickly only to gasp in exasperation. “He said what to her?”




Chapter One


Cornwall



Andrew Darcy was what could be called a good man. For some years now he had run Pemberley estates and had been in charge of all the Darcy family interests. He was not married because it was very hard to find the right woman when one had the example of Elizabeth Bennet Darcy as a role model. He was his father's son, so he understood perfectly what had drawn his father to his mother. Andrew shared not only his father's good looks, but his serious disposition and character as well. His resemblance to Fitzwilliam Darcy was sometimes even a little frightening as he often replied with the same words as his father to some of his sister's or mother's remarks. The only woman he really cared for in the past was Miss Rebecca Greystorn, who preferred to marry his younger and poorer brother Jacob. Not that Jacob was that poor. Father had given him enough money to start his own business in cooperation with cousin Gardiner. Add his wife's substantial dowry, and he was doing very well.

Rebecca's rejection, or rather the fact that she seemed to completely overlook his interest in her, was a serious blow to his ego. She was introduced to the both of them at one of the private balls and from the very start Jacob captured her attention with his easy and lively ways. Andrew seriously doubted whether she even noticed that he admired her as well. It was not that he lusted after his brother's wife, but still it was not a pleasant sight to see her so happy as his wife. His mother told him frankly that she did not believe that what he felt for Rebecca had been true love. He asked her how she could possibly know that, and her reply was so strange. She told him that if he was his father's son, as everyone said he was, he would never have let her go to another, even to his own brother, if he had truly cared deeply for her. He would have been more determined to win her heart no matter what it took to do so.

Andrew Darcy had always secretly envied his younger brothers their lively disposition and easy manners with ladies. He himself was serious, broody and often very shy of women. The shyness he tried to overcome by acting with haughtiness. He could talk with a lady about substantial things, like books, and political or economic situations, for example but light drawing room conversation was not his strong point. He did not have to marry just to provide an heir. He had two brothers and Jacob had a baby boy now, so it had been already ensured the Darcy fortune and the family name would have its continuation.

But still, deep in his heart he wanted someone with whom he could share his life; not only his successes, but also his fears, and failures as well. Not to mention he craved a warm, soft, feminine body that could warm his bed in the long cold Derbyshire winter nights. Most of the women he met proved to be greedy or just plain silly, sometimes trying to charm him with their supposed wit and banter, their pretentious arts and allurements. Their attempts were truly pitiful, as his ideal was always his mother. And Andrew knew that all these conniving women truly wanted was just his money and position.

Those had been his thoughts when riding to visit his aunt at Kestle. He loved Aunt Gina. When he and his brother Jacob were small boys, even before Richard was born, she always played with them, and protected them from their father's disapproval when they got into mischief. Well, specifically when Jacob got them into some mischief. And it was really Jacob's fault that she got married and left them. They missed her terribly when she moved to Cornwall. She was still Aunt Gina to them and Andrew knew that they had a special place in her heart, though she had been married for over twenty years and had her own two sons. Together with Jacob he visited her every year at Kestle Manor; however, the visits had been suspended for the last three years because of the unfortunate situation that had happened in the family.

Fitzwilliam Darcy, as if forgetting he was well over fifty, bought himself a very spirited horse who threw him the first time he mounted him, and trampled him so severely that his right leg was seriously broken in two places. For several weeks they were not sure whether he would survive at all as his fever was very high. It was suggested that the leg should be amputated, but Richard opposed that idea, even though still only in medical school. He was proved right as now the father could even walk. He needed a cane and the leg would be always stiff, but he was not a cripple. Richard said that the leg could have been fully functional if it had been broken and reset. It was deemed very risky, so they decided against it. Andrew thought his mother preferred her husband with a stiff leg, as long as he stayed far away from horses. His father's illness and his mother's complete breakdown due to her husband's condition, required Andrew to take over all family matters, including running Pemberley and other Darcy business. He was not unprepared for the task, as even from the earliest years he was aware of his future role and his responsibilities for the whole family as the eldest son. He was pleased that he fulfilled his duty and did not let his parents down. Even after his father recovered, he did not change the new arrangements and did not interfere in Andrew's decisions about the estate.

Now Andrew was returning to Kestle alone as Jacob was preoccupied with his new role as a father. He was galloping through the moors, taking in the countryside so much different from his beloved Derbyshire, when suddenly his horse seemed to stumble over some white, swiftly running creature. With not a little surprise Andrew Darcy realized that he was about to fall from his horse, an occurrence that had not happened to him in the last twenty years.

When he woke up he saw someone looming over him. A girl. She looked like a fairy with her huge brown eyes in the small triangle of her white freckled face, with a cloud of red wavy, very long hair. He closed his eyes again, then opened them, but the vision did not vanish.

“Sir, can you hear me? Oh, please sir, say something. Are you hurt?” a soft, musical voice asked.

“I am fine.” Andrew tried to raise himself up.

The girl's hands stopped him. “No, sir; pray stay still. There may be something broken.”

“I am well,” he said in a firm voice and stood up. He would have a few bruises and sore muscles but overall he was fine.

The girl was still standing beside him looking at him with evident concern in her pretty eyes. She was a small thing, not more than 5 feet 2 inches perhaps, with a slender figure. She was wearing a simple muslin dress, but the cut suggested that she was unquestionably familiar with le Journal des Dames et des Modes. Her hair was tied low on her neck with a matching ribbon, but most of it escaped its confinement, waving wildly around her shoulders and down her back.

“Sir, are you sure you are all right? We live not far from here. I can get help if you are not able to move on your own.”

Only then did Darcy notice a boy standing nearby. He was looking at him curiously, cuddling a small white creature, vaguely resembling a dog, to his chest.

“It was that pest that jumped under my horse!” he exclaimed in a haughty voice pointing to the animal. The creature looked ridiculous with a small pink bow tied at the top of its head.

“It is not a pest, sir, it is a dog. A Maltese breed.” the girl answered in an offended voice, her small chin high in the air.

“I know that some people call them dogs. My sister had a similar one.” Janie got it from their Aunt Kitty and he hated it from the very start; he thought it to be malicious and extremely loud. But Janie seemed to adore the thing. He was relieved when it disappeared one day. Of course he even searched through Pemberley grounds as he could not bear his little sister's tears. Fortunately Janie was just five at the time so she soon forgot about her pet. “But it is not a dog; it is more like an overgrown rat.”

“Collette is not a rat! She is purebred,” Miss exclaimed indignantly.

“But that does not stop her from running under a traveler's horse.”

The girl looked at him somewhat guiltily. “I am sorry, sir. I have no idea what happened to her. She never behaves in this way.”

“It would be for the best to shoot her,” Darcy said in cold voice.

“How could you, sir! It was an accident,” the girl cried in outrage.

Darcy just smirked at her. She looked lovely with that shocked expression on her small face.

Looking at her warmly, Darcy bowed his dark head. “Thank you for your assistance, Miss. I believe you truly feel responsible for your pet's actions. If you do not want to shoot it, then you should at least tie it up somewhere. Permanently.”

“I thank you for the advice, sir, “she answered coldly.

Darcy mounted his horse and galloped away.

***

“Andrew, boy what happened to you?” Lord Walsingham greeted him in front of the Kestle Manor.

“Oh, nothing of consequence, Uncle. I have just fallen off my horse.”

“I cannot believe that! You?” Walsingham cried.

“I was just careless.” Andrew was not going to elaborate on the subject. He had the reputation of being the best rider in Derbyshire, if not in the whole of England and he did not want to admit that he stumbled over that ridiculous dog.

“Andrew!”

“Aunt Gina!”

The next moment he was hugging his favourite aunt. “Oh, Andrew I cannot believe how big you have grown. You were such a sweet little boy once.”

Andrew smiled broadly at her. “Aunt Gina please, have you not noticed, oh dearest aunt that I have been this tall for at least ten years.”

Georgiana only sighed wistfully and said. “Oh, Andrew. You must tell me all the news. Come inside.”

* * *

Two hours later, after refreshing himself from the journey, and eating a hearty early dinner, Andrew Darcy was sitting in his aunt's parlour answering her questions concerning his parents, siblings and acquaintances.

“So you say your brother is happy.” Georgiana filled his cup with coffee.

“Yes. The baby seems to look much like his mother though.”

Something in his voice and expression worried her. “Please do not you tell me you still think about her,” she enquired gently.

Andrew averted his eyes. “No, of course not.”

“Good because, I think she was not the girl for you.”

“You sound like my mother.”

“Well, I think that the only reason you were interested in her was that she resembles your mother in many ways.”

“I have heard that somewhere as well.”

“Your mother is a wise woman. The best proof is how she could handle your father all these years.”

“She did not have to handle him at all. Father adores her and always has.” Andrew cried.

Georgiana smiled at him. “I know that he cares for her more than his own life, but pray believe me, it is not an easy thing to live with him. Do you know that he once forbade her to talk to his steward? It was even before they married. He told her that she was his and he was not going to allow any young man around her.”

“You mean that old Mr. Ashley?” Andrew looked at his aunt doubtfully. “That is hard to believe.”

“He was not old back then. Your father can be hard to bear with his obsessive protectiveness and jealousy.”

“And what is wrong with that? He cares dearly for his family.”

“I think my brother should tell you more about their rather stormy courtship.”

“I have heard they eloped. But I think it was just gossip. Father would never do something so irresponsible.”

Georgiana stroked his cheek smiling at him tenderly. “You always were your father's son. Do not worry. You will find the right girl for you.”

“I do not spend my time worrying about that,” Andrew answered quickly.

“No, of course you do not. But when you meet her and decide that she is the one, try to make yourself, let us say, more friendly and accessible.”

“You know it is hard for me. I tend to be reserved and shy with new company.”

“I know and understand you perfectly, but when the right girl comes your way, you must let her know that you care.”

“I know.” Andrew sighed heavily.

“You will have the opportunity to prove your resolve very soon.”

Darcy looked at his aunt suspiciously. “I have a strange feeling you have someone in mind.”

“Yes, indeed.”

“Aunt, please no, not again. Do not…”

“Andrew please, just listen to me. She is really very nice, intelligent and pretty, well-educated, well-bred, truly accomplished. Her name is Miss Abigail Welsey. Abigail is a very nice name, do you not think so? I wanted you to meet her some time ago, but you did not come here for the last few years because of your father's accident. She rarely leaves Cornwall since all her family lives here.”

“Oh, please Aunt, some country miss?”

“Andrew, you should bite your tongue from time to time. It is almost as hearing your father thirty years ago. Remember that you mother was a country miss once as well,” Georgiana admonished him sharply.

Andrew sighed, visibly resigned to his fate. “So, when shall I meet her?”

His aunt clasped her hands in an excited gesture. “I have organized a little soirée for next Friday. I will see to it that she attends. And Andrew, I beseech you to be very cordial and polite to her.”

“What makes you think I will not be so?” he asked grudgingly.

“Andrew you have a strange sense of humour I would say, and the lady's sensibilities are very fragile. Pray do not ask her about her opinion on the development of the railway network in England.”

“It is a perfectly reasonable subject for discussion.”

“Yes, of course. But I believe that it did not impress your sister-in-law when you met her.”

“No, it did not,” he acknowledged reluctantly.

“Ask her about her work as a teacher.”

“She teaches?”

“Yes, she runs a small school for the poor children.”

“That is interesting.”

“You see. And I can assure you there are many more interesting things to learn about her.”

“Enough about Miss Abigail for now. Tell me how Edward and Henry are getting on in Eton?”

Chapter Two







“Oh, good gracious. It is she.”

“Who?”

“That miss. I met her on the day of my arrival.”

“You did? Where?”

“When I fell from my horse. She was there with a young boy. It was her dog that I tripped my horse.”

Lord Walsingham chuckled. “You tripped over Collette. What would your friends say?”

“Uncle, please.”

“I imagine she was afraid you had harmed yourself. She is very kind and tenderhearted. It is Abigail your aunt wants you to meet.”

“Uncle, you cannot be serious! I really cannot imagine what Aunt Gina was thinking. I do not rob cradles. She is what, five and ten? She reaches my stomach, and does not look like a grown woman at all. She is much too thin, all eyes and freckles.”

“Andrew…” Walsingham started.

“She should go back to the nursery instead of the drawing room.”

He heard his aunt's voice coming from behind his back. “Andrew, may I present my dear friend Miss Abigail Welsey. This is my nephew Mr. Andrew Darcy.”

Andrew turned around very slowly. The redheaded girl was standing in front of him. He stared down at her. Good God, she was lovely! Her hair was mostly pulled back and pinned at the top of her head with a few loose glossy locks spiraling down her back. The creamy, lacy dress was deeply cut and he could see the tops of her…

“Nephew,” he heard his aunt's voice.

“What?” he said distractedly.

“Andrew…” Georgiana whispered angrily.

He looked at his aunt for a moment incomprehensibly, then suddenly remembered his manners, “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, madam,” he mumbled at last.

Miss Welsey raised her delicate brow skeptically and answered coldly, “The pleasure is all mine, sir. I assure you.”

“But I heard you met yesterday, in less official circumstances.” Lord Walsingham remarked, vastly amused with the whole scene.

Abigail smiled at him. “Yes, Mr. Darcy was so kind to give me the excellent advice to shoot my dog.”

Georgiana tried to rescue the situation by changing the subject, “I see your father has not come yet my dear, I do not see him.”

“No, he has not. He does not feel very well I am afraid. Thomas stayed home with him.”

“Your brother, madam, is the boy who was with you yesterday?” Darcy asked.

She acknowledged him only with a small nod before turning to Georgiana. “I am sorry to leave your company but I see Mrs. Pratley. She promised to give me some books for children that had belonged to her late husband.”

Georgiana looked warmly at her. “Of course. Go, my dear.”

Abigail smiled at the Walsinghams at the same time carefully avoiding looking at Andrew and walked away.

As soon as she was far enough not to hear, Georgiana said angrily, “Andrew you should go to her later and apologize to her.”

“Do you think she heard?”

“I was standing just beside her and I heard every word.”

“Was she offended?”

“Well, what do you think? For your information she is not a child, she is one and twenty. I thought her to be perfect for you. She is kind, charming and accomplished, but now I would not be surprised if she never speaks to you again.”

***

Abigail was observing her pupils seated at the desks and tables of various shapes and sizes, doing their work silently. Her school was situated in the old cottage not far from the church and parsonage. She had run the school for almost two years and the job gave her the feeling of true fulfillment and satisfaction. She sometimes thought that she needed her students more than they needed her teaching. Though the school was clean and well kept it was still very modest. It certainly could not be compared to the school for ladies she herself had attended in Paris. Here in Cornwall however, the needs were great and the donors were few. She could not possibly ask Lady Walsingham for everything. She could tell her students stories and read them her own books, but it was hard to teach them reading and writing without paper. The number of students varied as it depended on whether the children were needed in the field or not. Most of them came only to learn to read and write and they did not come back after that. There were some of bright minds among them as well; those who undoubtedly would be able to finish college and become doctors or lawyers, but Abigail knew very well that there was very little chance for that. Their parents were too poor to buy them food and clothes, not to mention an expensive education. It happened quite often that children came to school hungry, and she often gave them her own second breakfast. It would be wonderful if they could eat something at school every day but the problem was where to find means for such an endavour.

She noticed that some of the children had completed their tasks, so she told them that the lessons were finished for the day and they should leave silently, so as not to disturb the rest who were still working.

The cottage was emptying slowly. The last to finish was her favourite, Annie. The girl's parents were Lord Walsingham's tenants and as hardworking people they were at least able to feed their children so they were not going hungry. Annie was ten and the eldest of her siblings and she was always staying after the lessons ended to speak with Miss Welsey a little.

“Miss Wesley that story you read us today was very beautiful.”

“The one about King Arthur?” Abigail looked kindly at her student.

The girl nodded eagerly.

“So why did you not say anything when I asked who had enjoyed it?”

Annie averted her eyes, clearly embarrassed.

Abigail touched the girl's cheek “There is nothing of which to be afraid. Next time you have to tell what you think.”

The girl smiled shyly at her. “Can I walk with you a little Miss Welsey?”

“And your mother? Does she not need you at home?”

Annie shook her blonde, curly head. “No, Grandmama has come to stay with us and she is helping Mama with the new baby.”

“If that is so, then perhaps you would like to help to carry some of my books?” Abigail proposed, noticing a delighted expression on the girl's face.

Abigail was locking the school when Mr. Crofton the parson appeared, running hurriedly down the lane.

“Miss Welsey, Miss Welsey you cannot imagine what has happened!”

“Mr. Crofton you really should not run so fast!”

The parson stopped in front of her panting heavily. “But…such a good news.”

“What news?”

“Today in the morning mail, I received a letter with two hundred pounds enclosed within it.”

“Two hundred pounds! There must be some mistake.” Abigail looked at the parson intently. Perhaps the rumour that he liked alcohol was not so untrue as she had always thought.

“No, no. No mistake. There was a short note stating that the money is to be used for the school.”

The parson took the elegant card from his pocket. Abby peered at it curiously. It was written in a decided, neat script, most certainly belonging to a man.

“It is not signed,” Abigail remarked.

“No, it is not.”

“But surely a gentleman's handwriting.”

“So it appears.”

“Do you think we should take it if we do not know who gave it to us?”

“Of course we should. Even if we want to return it we do not know to whom,” Mr. Crofton cried.

“True.”

“Abigail, just think what we can do with this money.” Sometimes the parson, especially when he was very excited, returned to using her Christian name as he did when she was a little girl. “We can repair the roof, buy new books, organize food for the children. We could even send the eldest Barny boy to the school in town.”

“Well, I think you are right Mr. Crofton. We should be thankful for such a generous gesture and make the best of these funds.”

***

“Father, you will not believe what happened today.” Abigail rushed into her father's study only to see that he was not alone.

“Oh, Abby here you are, come child.”

“I am sorry I was not aware you had a guest.”

“Miss Welsey it is a pleasure to see you again.” Andrew Darcy stood up looking at her intently. She was lovelier every time he saw her.

Her father spoke “Mr. Darcy was kind enough to visit me. You have not mentioned that Lady Walsingham's nephew is such a capital fellow, my dear. We had a very interesting conversation about...”

“Father what is that?”

Andrew observed that a sudden panicked expression spread over his host's face. “Brandy, my dear,” Mr. Welsey said meekly.

Abigail furrowed her brow. “Father! You know you should not drink. The doctor said it is not good for you.”

“Abby, do not be angry. It was just a little; and I had to help Mr. Darcy with something.”

“Father, I am sure Mr. Darcy would be quite pleased with tea or coffee so early in the afternoon. Would you not, Mr. Darcy?”

“I….” Andrew stammered.

“Abby there is no need for you to fret yourself…I am fine. You wanted to tell me something, my dear?”

“It is not that important; I will tell you later. I will leave you alone with your guest. And please forgive my interruption.” she said approaching them and taking the brandy from the side table where it was placed. “I shall send you some tea,” she announced, marching briskly from the room with the bottle in her hand.

Chapter Three





Abigail was digging furiously in her flower garden, planting new seedlings and removing weeds; occupied more with her thoughts about a certain gentleman than with her work. For the last few weeks, Abigail had the dubious pleasure of seeing Mr. Darcy almost every day. He visited her father to discuss some business and accompanied his aunt when she visited. She even met him a few times during her daily walks. He never said much, but she always caught him staring at her. Those expressionless stares made her very angry, to the point of being impertinent and even rude to him. When she was extremely vexed, she avoided talking to him at all. She knew very well what all those brooding stares meant. He undoubtedly looked upon her only to find fault, thinking she did not look like a grown woman.

Lady Walsingham tried to suggest that her nephew was romantically interested in her. Abby informed her that it could not possibly be true, as it was obvious he certainly did not behave like so. When in France she had met the brothers of several of her French friends, and some of them seemed to be quite attentive to her, she was mon petit chou, ma biche or ma poupée and one of them even called her la rose anglaise. But none of them made such rude remarks as Mr. Darcy. It was different to be called petite rather than thin, not to mention that English rose sounded much better than `all freckles' and `not looking like a grown woman'. And if it was true that theoretically Mr. Darcy came to like her, he would have surely apologized to her for his condescending remarks, and tried to say something nice to her for a change. The last time she met him he asked her about her opinion on the rapid development of the railway network in the country. It surely was not the subject that a man romantically interested in a lady would discuss.

Lady Walsingham suggested to her that she might not know men as well as she believed, and that flattering did not always mean honourable intentions. “Lady Walsingham, with all due respect, I believe that insulting a lady and threatening to kill her pet does not indicate honourable intentions either,” Abigail replied and it was the last time Lady Walsingham tried to suggest her nephew was enamoured with her. Still she was convinced that the ball Lady Walsingham decided to hold at Kestle Manor was because she wanted to throw them together. Abby's thoughts were interrupted when she heard her brother's voice calling her.

“Abby, Abby…”

She rose from the ground. She was wearing a large straw hat and the huge flowery apron was hugging her dress. Thomas was running towards her holding something in front of him.

“Thomas what is that. Fish? Where did you get them?” Her brother was waving two large fish in front of her.

“I caught them. Mr. Darcy showed me how to fish. He gave me his own fishing rod. I have never fished in the river.” Thomas babbled, clearly excited. It was only then that she noticed the boy was not alone. Mr. Darcy was there, dressed more casually today but still staring coldly at her as he usually did.

“You went fishing with Mr. Darcy?”

“Yes, Mr. Darcy invited me this morning, when you were at school, and Father agreed. Are they not beautiful?”

“What is beautiful?”

“My fish!” the boy exclaimed waving them just a few inches from her face.

“Ah, yes. Very nice.” she said backing away slightly from the glistening things.

“Might we have them for dinner today?”

“Thomas, I have already planned dinner for today.”

“But Abby, it is fresh. Straight from the stream!” The fish were once again presented just under her nose.

“Very well then. Go to the kitchen and tell the cook to prepare them for dinner.”

“Yes, Abby and I am going to catch a fish every day for dinner.”

“You will?” She smiled at him and ruffled his red mop of hair.

“Yes.”

“Did you thank Mr. Darcy for being so kind to take you?”

“Thank you Mr. Darcy,” the boy exclaimed before running towards the house.

“I should thank you as well Mr. Darcy. I know that Thomas craves some male company. He spends most of his time with me. There are no boys his age in the neighborhood and Father is busy so he does not have as much time for him as he would like to.”

“It was an enjoyable time for me as well, I assure you. I fished with my brothers and cousins when I was a boy. I miss it.”

“Thank you again.” The awkward silence remained.

He looked at her as if undecided whether to go or to stay. When she did not say anything more for a time, he bowed his head and started to walk away. She rolled her eyes observing his slow retreat.

“Mr. Darcy?”

He turned to her immediately. “Yes.”

“Would you like to stay for dinner? You helped to catch the fish, so you have a right to taste it. I am sure Father and Thomas would be delighted with your company.”

“Yes, thank you for the invitation Miss Welsey” he said grinning at her.

She gave a resigned sigh and took off her gloves. “Let us go to the house.”

***

The fish turned out to be unexpectedly good. Thomas was slightly disappointed that just after dinner he was sent to the bed. He was more than willing to join his Father and Mr. Darcy in the library, but one look from Abigail directed him straight upstairs.

“I will send coffee to the library, Father.”

“Thank you, my child; and perhaps some more of the muffins you baked today.”

Abigail looked at the pleading in her father's expression and smiled reluctantly “Very well, but Mr. Darcy must see that you do not have too many of them. You know, Papa that you cannot eat too much sugar. Can I count on you in this, Mr. Darcy?”

“Yes, of course.” Andrew smiled at her.

“Your daughter is very decided young woman Mr. Welsey,” Andrew said when they entered the library.

“I agree Mr. Darcy. I cannot offer you any drink I am afraid. Abby threw away all the brandy after your first visit.”

Andrew chuckled. “She is a dear child,” Mr. Welsey continued, “She practically raised Thomas on her own when his mother died. I would not have survived without her help after my wife's death.”

Andrew observed his host being obviously lost in his thoughts for some time before he turned his attention to him “So, Mr. Darcy I hear you are from the north of England?”

“Yes. Derbyshire. My family estate, Pemberley is there.”

“Ah, yes. Your aunt, Lady Walsingham speaks very highly of it.”

“Yes, it is quite large; possibly taking half of the county.”

“A huge estate I would say.”

“Yes, we breed sheep. And in recent years we decided to invest in some mines.”

“Very interesting. And your parents?”

“They are in good health. Thank Godness. Two years ago, Father had a serious accident; his leg was broken in several places. His condition was very serious, but he is all right now. He cannot run, to be sure, but he can move on his own.”

“I imagine that during his illness it was you who took responsibility for the family and running the estate.”

“Yes, but I was prepared.”

“And do you have brothers or sisters?”

“Yes, I have a younger sister and two younger brothers. One is already married. He is in trade. And the youngest has just finished the medical school.”

“A rather rare occupation for a gentleman's son. I would say.”

“Yes, but Richard always wanted to be a doctor.”

“And your sister, is she married?”

“No, Heaven forbid. She is but only 15.”

“And I see you are not anxious for her coming out.”

“No. To tell the truth I would keep her home as long as possible. I know that my father feels the same. My sister is uncommonly pretty; she has always been. She got her looks from our mother and her lively disposition as well. She can be utterly charming and she has grown much in the last two years. She looks quite mature for her age. I have noticed lately that she draws men's attention.”

Mr. Welsey looked sympathetically at him “I know how you and your father feel, believe me. I know very well how men look at my Abby. She is not particularly vain and I know she does not consider herself a beauty, but it does not change the fact that she is very attractive.”

The host looked at Andrew searchingly “When she looks at you with those big brown eyes, you are ready to protect her from every evil in the world. Would you not agree Mr. Darcy?”

“Yes, sir.” Andrew acknowledged quietly.

“Even if she thinks she does not need anybody to protect her.”

Andrew chuckled. “She certainly does not.”

“Mr. Darcy. Let us be honest with each other. You do not visit us quite so often because you are interested in my farming methods or you so enjoy the company of my son.”

Darcy met Mr. Welsey's gaze, a serious expression on his face. “I do admire your daughter, sir; and I can assure you my intentions are honorouble.”

“It is good to hear that. I would not allow anyone to hurt my baby.”

“Oh, no, sir. Never.”

“I like you. You seem to be a reasonable young man, which is a rare occurrence nowadays. And you are Lady Walsingham's nephew. It is your best recommendation, I believe. She speaks very highly of you and I trust her. Do you know that apart from giving Abby piano lessons, she convinced me to send her to school in France? She chose it herself and paid for the best and most expensive school for young ladies in Paris. Abby stayed there for three years, finishing with honors.” the pride on Mr. Welsey's face was clearly visible.

“I was not aware of that. But I cannot say I am very surprised. My aunt is a very caring person and I know that she always wished for a daughter.”

“Abby does not know about your aunt's generosity. She thinks that her grandmother left money for her schooling. And it is neither your aunt's nor my wish for her to know the truth.”

“Yes, of course, sir. You can trust my discretion.”

“I am not a mercenary my boy, please believe me; but I could never afford such an education for her. I saved funds for school for Thomas. I thought he would need the solid education more than she. I swallowed my pride when Lady Walsingham offered her help. She said Abby is too intelligent for merely home education. I always thought that your aunt's reasons for helping were most altruistic, that perhaps Abby was like the daughter she never had. Now I am not so sure about that now, especially after meeting you.”

“Sir, please. I would never take advantage of your daughter.”

“I hope not, because you will have a hard time convincing her to trust you.”

“But why? My intentions are honourable. I would never mistreat her. She must see she can trust me. That I can take care of her and provide for her.”

Mr. Welsey looked at Darcy thoughtfully. “Have you not noticed she does not like you?”

“I know that the beginning of our acquaintance could have been better. “

“I would say that it could not have been worse. Abby is a good girl but she is a woman. Let us just say that she often does not think rationally, instead relying on her feelings. First of all you insulted Collette. She was a gift from her favourite teacher in Paris. I understand your attitude towards that creature, as it is hard to call it a dog. I think it is mean, loud and ungrateful; but Abby adores her. Secondly you said she is small, and she is very sensitive about her size.

“But she is perfect the way she is.”

“You hurt her feelings with your remarks.”

“I know that was unforgivable.” Andrew stared at the carpet and mumbled, “To tell the truth I found her very lovely from the first time I saw her, but I was too proud to admit that Aunt and Uncle were right, saying I would like her.”

“Abby would never admit it, but I am sure she is convinced that a woman can only be attractive if she is tall and voluptuous.”

“But since then we have spent much time together and I am sure Miss Welsey sees me in a different light.”

Mr. Welsey sighed. “I do not envy you my boy. But you have my support.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Let us go back to Abby; though she may have retired by now. It is late.”

They entered the drawing room only too see Abby sleeping soundly, curled on a sofa like a kitten. Andrew thought his heart would burst at that very moment. Poor thing. She was probably waiting for him to say goodbye, but after such a long day, she was too tired to stay awake. It certainly spoke volumes about her affection for him. He wanted to go to her, take her soft, small body into his arms and carry her to bed; preferably his own. It was not possible of course. Not now at least, especially with her father present. But one day… He felt the shiver of joyful anticipation running through his whole body.

Mr. Welsey approached the sofa and placing his hand on his daughter's shoulder shook her gently. “Abby, wake up. You fell asleep on the sofa. Wake up, dear.”

Abigail opened her eyes slowly. “Father... What…” Then she saw Mr. Darcy standing behind her father with that mean smirk on his face. That big lout! He is clearly laughing at me, just because I fell asleep waiting for him for God knows how long, to say farewell to him as a proper lady of the house. She flushed and got up hastily.

“Pray forgive me. I do not know how this happened, I was fatigued, I believe.” She looked up at Mr. Darcy who was now grinning like a fool. Hateful man!

Mr. Welsey looked at her sympathetically. “Of course my dear. Mr. Darcy just wished to say goodbye to you.”

Darcy approached her and taking her small hand into his much bigger one, squeezed it gently. “Thank you for the lovely evening and for your invitation, Miss Welsey. Please forgive me that I kept you waiting so long.”

Abigail looked at her hand engulfed in Darcy's and then pulled it from his grip. “Good evening Mr. Darcy. Now if you will excuse me, I shall retire. Good night, Father.” She dropped a quick curtsey and hurried from the room.

*
mon petit chou - a familiar endearment for the small ones - translation: 'my little cabbage'.
ma biche - often used and very familiar; addressed to young girls only; very tender; translation: my doe
ma poupée - my doll; this one could have some flirtatious meanings as 'little chick'
la rose anglaise - English rose

Chapter Four



Andrew Darcy was riding leisurely along the coast. No other part of England could equal Derbyshire in his eyes, but he had to admit that Cornwall undoubtedly had its own share of beauty. With its sandy beaches, cut here and there with higher cliffs and numerous little bays it was a sight to behold. Today was a perfect day to spend at the seaside. It was comfortably warm and the wind was blowing gently in from the sea. Staring at the far horizon where the sea seemed to melt with the sky, Andrew was again recollecting how sweet Abby looked just two days ago, lying on the sofa in the drawing room, waiting for him. At some time, hopefully soon, she would fall asleep waiting for him at Pemberley or in Darcy Townhouse in London. He smiled to himself, as he envisaged himself waking her with a kiss on her temple. She would open her sleepy eyes and smile sweetly at him, her arms coming around his neck. A soft sigh of contentment escaped him.

It took a few moments for him to realize that the object of his pleasant musings was actually standing some one hundred yards from him at the other side of the beach, just at the water's edge. He dismounted at once and as if in a dream went in her direction. Her hair was down, the wind playing with the red mass. She closed her eyes and inhaled the breeze with her face to the sea. Next she opened her eyes, hiked her full skirts high above her ankles, revealing her slim bare calves, and with a merry laugh ran into the sea. Andrew stared at her as if hypnotized. After a few minutes, apparently tired of wading in the water, she returned to the bank and laid on the sand.

Abby was lying happily on the warm sand with her eyes closed, one arm thrown above her head and one of her legs bent at the knee. The breeze was cooling her bare legs pleasantly. Her face was tilted to the sun, when she sensed a shadow looming over her. She opened one of her eyes only to see Mr. Darcy standing next to her and staring down at her, with that hateful smirk on his face.

Abby jumped to her feet immediately, trying to rearrange her dress so to cover her legs. “Mr. Darcy! What are you doing here?”

“I just saw you and wanted to greet you.” He smiled softly at her.

Abigail looked at him incomprehensibly for a moment. He was impossible. “Greet me! What were you thinking? Might it have occurred to you that I wanted to be alone?”

“I...” Darcy stammered.

Abigail's eyes narrowed at him. “Or perhaps you enjoy spying on women when they are not properly dressed?”

“No, of course not!” He looked at her guiltily. “I am sorry. It was not my intention to distress you. I did not think that...”

“Oh, I agree with that,” she said hotly gathering her shoes and stockings.” You certainly did not think. Now please turn around.”

“What for?”

“What for? Because I would like to put on my stockings and shoes, sir so I may leave your charming company as soon as I can.”

He grinned at her slyly. “There is no need for me to turn around. I have seen your legs already, so you see, you do not have to hide them from me.”

Abigail gaped at him, an utterly shocked expression on her face, her mouth wide open.

“They are freckled too.” He smiled again.

“You…” The next thing Andrew Darcy felt was a considerable pain in his left shin.

“That hurt!” She was really strong for such a small creature.

“And serves you right! You big, arrogant boor! I hope it is broken!” She pressed her belongings to her chest and ran away from him barefoot.

***

For the next week Abigail was extremely careful not to meet Mr. Darcy. However, the day of the ball at Kestle Manor was approaching and she knew that the meeting was unavoidable. She did not intend to cease dancing only because the hostess' nephew was the most disagreeable man in the whole of England. Plus she had new shoes that made her a whole two inches taller. She knew that perhaps they were not the most comfortable shoes, but at least no one could say she was not tall enough to look like a grown woman.

Abigail loved to dance and she enjoyed herself immensely on the day of the ball. She did not sit for a minute and danced every dance. Fortunately Mr. Darcy kept his distance from her; however, his main occupation that evening seemed to be observing her as she was swirling in the arms of the other men. Abigail decided to ignore him and his stares. Though her enjoyment was great her feet started to ache unbearably, especially after dancing the recently introduced polka. She decided to remove herself to some quiet place and take off her shoes just for a little while. She was heading towards the door discreetly when suddenly a man's chest appeared in front of her. She raised her eyes.

“Mr. Darcy.” She curtseyed coolly.

“Miss Welsey I would like to apologize for my behaviour when we last saw each other. It was unforgivable. I did not behave as a gentleman. Please accept my apology.”

Abigail gazed searchingly at him for a moment. He seemed to speak sincerely. “Yes, it certainly was not gentlemanly behaviour. Invading my privacy, not to mention the other things you said. However I do admit that as a lady I should not have kicked you, nor should I have called you names, even if you deserved it. I am sorry too.”

“Apologies accepted; on condition that you forgive me.”

“I presume I do not have another choice, do I? And pray tell me how you are feeling?” She glanced down at his leg.

He chuckled. “I believe I will survive. I do not remember receiving such a ferocious kick even from my own brothers and numerous cousins. You are quite strong madam, for such a small…” The look on her face stopped his speech. “Oh, I am sorry. I did not mean to say that you are too... well, but certainly you…”

Abigail raised her eyebrow skeptically. “Thank you kindly Mr. Darcy. I believe I perfectly understand what you wanted to say,” Abigail remarked coldly.

“Miss Welsey would you do me the honour of dancing with me?”

“I thank you Mr. Darcy but I am not inclined to dance for the time being. I think I will go to the garden for some fresh air. Alone.” she stressed “Excuse me.”


***


Abigail was sitting on a stone bench in Lady Walsingham's flower garden. She removed her shoes with relief. They were pretty but not comfortable for dancing the polka. The garden was well lighted with the torches, moonlight and the light coming from the house, so she could clearly see the blood on her silk stockings. She was not very surprised. It was not the first time she hurt her feet due to her uncomfortable dance shoes. She was more worried with her own most ambiguous and violent reactions to a certain gentleman. Abigail was thinking upon why she got so irritated every time she saw Mr. Darcy. She knew many people who had a talent of speaking utter nonsense every time they opened their mouth, but they never bothered her as much as Mr. Darcy. He unsettled her. She could not stop thinking about him. And the way he acted on the beach! He provoked her. He pricked her temper; on purpose. Teased her; but why? He was an honorouble man. Deep in her heart she was sure of that. She was not really afraid he would hurt her or use her when they were alone; though the situation was undoubtedly most compromising.

“Miss Welsey.” She heard the familiar deep masculine voice.

“Mr. Darcy. I told you I wanted to be alone. I…”

She did not finish because he of course had to look down to see her shoes were removed and her feet were stained with blood, before she could hide them under them hem of her dress. He kneeled beside her. “You have hurt yourself,” he said with an evident concern, taking her small foot in his hand. ”You have been bleeding. It must be cleaned.”

She squirmed her foot from his hand and hid it under the bench “Mr. Darcy, could you be so kind to stay away from my legs? Once and for all.”

“You cannot walk. I will carry you.”

Abigail stared at him, her eyes wide open. The man was impossible. “Carry me? In front of all these people? I thank you sir, but it is not the first time I have suffered from my dancing shoes, I assure you.”

“Abby...” he took one of her hands in his.

“Mr. Darcy! What are you doing? I do not recall allowing you to use my Christian name,” she cried trying to pull her hand from his.

“We have to talk Miss Welsey,” Darcy stated firmly.


Chapter Five




London, a few weeks later



The library in the Darcy Townhouse was shrouded in semi-darkness and there was a stuffiness in the room as if the windows had not been opened for a long time. Fitzwilliam Darcy looked around the room. His first born son, his pride and joy, who never let him down, was sprawled on the floor, his back against the sofa, several empty bottles beside him. His face was covered with a short beard, his curls were falling into his eyes. He was clad only in a shirt and trousers.

“Andrew! Wake up!” Fitzwilliam Darcy shook his son's arm.

“Abby,” the younger Darcy murmured.

“No. Not Abby. Your father.”

Andrew slowly removed his hair from his eyes and looked up. “Father? What are you doing here?”

“Son, what are you doing? Look at yourself! How long have you been sitting here?”

“I do not know… A week? No, two weeks, No more...”

“What is going on with you? What has happened to put you into such a state?”

Andrew raised himself gingerly to the sofa. “Nothing.”

“It does not look like nothing to me,” the older Darcy said, drawing the heavy velvet curtains open and opening the windows wide. Andrew cringed slightly at the stream of the light and fresh spring air entering the room.

Fitzwilliam stood in front of the bent body of his son. “She refused you, did she not?”

Andrew gaped at his father. “How do you know?”

“It is enough to say I recognize your condition.”

“Aunt Gina told you. One cannot have a bit of privacy in this family,” Andrew remarked bitterly.

“We are family and we are all quite worried about you! My sister just wrote to me that you took an interest in certain young lady. Abby, is it? If you had been successful you would not be sitting here alone with my whiskey as your companion, but introducing her to us.”

“There is no chance for that.”

“So son, pray tell me, are you the last man in the world she could ever be prevailed upon to marry?”

“No.”

“No? Then it is not so bad?” Fitzwilliam Darcy slapped his son's back in encouragement.

Bewildered, Andrew raised his eyes to his father. “Not so bad? She said she is not going to leave her home and family, only to move to the other side of the country to live with a broody, arrogant, aloof, hateful, mean, cold, conceited and overbearing man like me.”

Fitzwilliam Darcy chuckled.

Andrew glared at him. “It is not funny, Father.”

“I know it is not, Son; at least not now. Thirty years from now, you will see things differently. So, she has a temper, your lady.”

“Yes, she has. Everything I did or said made her angry; even when I tried to be amiable.”

“Well, well, so you did try to be amiable?”

Andrew nodded.

“And how did it go?”

Andrew buried his head into his hands.

“Not very well?” Fitzwilliam inquired sympathetically.

The younger Darcy shook his head. “I guess I was not very successful. She does not have a sense of humour where some matters are concerned. I even tried to flirt with her.”

“And?”

“She kicked me.”

“She did what?”

“It was my fault. I spied on her when she was wading in the sea. She asked me to turn around so she could put on her shoes and stockings. I said I already had seen her legs and then she…”

Fitzwilliam Darcy did not remember when he last laughed so hard. “I like her, that Abigail of yours. She will do well for you. Temper you a bit.”

“She is not mine,” Andrew said bitterly, “She made it perfectly clear that she does not want to have anything to do with me.”

“So what are you going to do in this situation?”

Andrew shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing.”

“Nothing! You are a Darcy! If I had your attitude when I met your mother you would not have been born,” Fitzwilliam cried with energy.

“But Mother loves you.”

“It was not always like that.”

“It was not?” Andrew asked stupidly. It was hard to imagine his mother not loving his father.

“When I met her she was engaged to another.”

“I was not aware of that. However in the end she obviously chose you.”

“It took a great deal of persuasion on my part, believe me. Do you know how many times I proposed to her?”

Andrew looked at his father incredulously. “It was more than once?”

“Three times.”

“So, you think I should try again.” Andrew sighed heavily and at length continued, “But Father I truly do not know. She will not want to speak with me ever again. I am sure of that. I wanted to ask her to marry me, but it all went so wrong. I got so nervous and started to babble some utter nonsense. It sounded more as if I was offering her a job as my companion or the mistress of my household. Oh, Father she was so angry with me! We started to quarrel and she just ran away from me. I left Kestle at dawn the next day, without even saying goodbye to the Walsinghams, only leaving a short note. I did not even tell her that I love her.” he finished in quiet voice.

Fitzwilliam patted his son's back. “Andrew, my boy, everything is going to be all right. You will see. You must just show her your real self.”

“How can I do that when I am here and she is in Cornwall?” Andrew cried impatiently. “I cannot go back there. She would run away from me as soon as she sees me.”

“Do not worry about that. It is all being addressed. Your mother went to Cornwall with your sister.”

“She did? But how...”

“Richard came home unexpectedly four days ago. He told us about your state. That you have not left the house for weeks, and that you refused to talk with him or Jacob or even Robert Bingley as well. Your mother guessed immediately that something must have happened in Cornwall. She will try to convince your Abigail to come to London with Georgiana and her brother for a short visit.”

“Do you think Abigail will agree?” Andrew asked hopefully.

“Knowing your mother and aunt's determination she will. You have at least a few weeks to return to your old self. You should start by taking a bath, Son. It is highly advisable. Trust me.”


***


Elizabeth Darcy was sitting in her sister-in-law's drawing room looking curiously at a young lady sitting in front of her. Miss Abigail was just a slip of girl. She thought they would make a rather amusing couple with Andrew so much taller than she. She was very pretty though.

“So, Miss Wesley, I heard you met my son?”

Elizabeth noticed with satisfaction that the girl flushed slightly before answering. “Yes, I have, Mrs. Darcy.”

“I heard he advised you to shoot your dog.”

Abigail eyes widened at Mrs. Darcy's forwardness. “Yes, he did.”

“He did? Oh, how could he?” Miss Darcy exclaimed with great feeling. Abigail turned to the young girl with a certain amount of jealously. Though being much younger than she, Miss Darcy would certainly never be mistaken for a child. Abby always wanted to look like that; tall, dark curly hair and a white, milky complexion without a trace of freckles. And her figure… Abby eyes stared for a moment at the front of Miss Darcy's dress, tightly drawn over her rather prominent bosom.

“What kind of dog, is it?” Jane Darcy asked.

“Collete is a Maltese. I got her from my teacher in France.”

“I once had a Maltese too, but it left the house when I was not looking and it was never found. Pray tell me Miss Welsey you were at school in France?”

“Yes, Madame Maille Lhermit's school in Bretagne, l'école privée Saint Joseph, dirigée par les soeurs de Saint Esprit.”*

Jane's eyes lightened with pleasure “Oh! What a coincidence! I am to go there this very autumn. Would you be so kind to tell me more about it one day?”

“Yes, of course. I shall be delighted to do so.” Abigail smiled warmly at the younger girl.

For the next couple of weeks Abigail spent a great deal of time with Mrs. Darcy and her daughter. They were both merry but at the same time sensible company. Miss Jane Darcy was in Abigail's opinion a little too daring and outspoken for the young lady her age, but she was genuinely kind and polite to everyone around her. As for Mrs. Darcy and Lady Walsingham it was clear that there was a true friendship between them. Mrs. Darcy even told her a story how the two of them dressed in men's clothes in order to attend a country dance. Miss Darcy, hearing the story for the first time as well, remarked that she could well imagine how angry her papa was when he caught them.

Mrs. Darcy proved to be very interested in Abigail's school and even asked her permission to visit her one day during a lesson. The children were so in awe of such a grand lady that they could barely open their mouth to say anything. Mrs. Darcy donated a significant sum for the school and each child got a small token from her. Afterwards she talked for a long time with Abigail about her work. Mrs. Darcy told her that a similar school existed at Pemberley as well.

Mr. Darcy's mother proved to be a great walker and she asked Abby to show her all the local sights. At the beginning Abigail felt not a little unsure in her company, as she was the mother of Mr. Darcy after all. However she had such an open personality, so unlike her son, that soon any awkwardness was forgotten and Abigail felt as if she had known her for as long as Lady Walsingham.

It was during one of their walks when Mrs. Darcy started a conversation concerning her eldest son.

“My child, pray forgive me. You do not have to talk about this if you do not wish to, but my son has proposed to you, has he not?”

Abigail looked down uncomfortably “I would not say he proposed. He did not ask me. He just announced we were to be married.”

“So I am not surprised you said no.”

Abigail raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You are not?”

“No, I am not. Abigail. May I call you that?” Abigail nodded and Elizabeth continued, “Let me tell you something you may find surprising. When I first met my husband I overheard him telling his best friend, who later married my elder sister, that he was not going to dance with me because I was not handsome enough to tempt him.”

“How rude!"

“Oh, yes!” Elizabeth cried, a small smile on her lips.

“Your son told Lord Walsingham that I am too small and skinny to look like a grown woman!”

“How rude!” exclaimed Elizabeth Darcy and both women giggled.

“So why did you change your mind?” Abby asked after a while.

“He helped me and my family when we were in a very difficult situation. He did not turn his back upon us like others did. Then I saw I could count on him, trust him, that he would do anything for me; and he has never disappointed me.”

At length Elizabeth spoke determinedly. “Abigail, I would like you to give Andrew another chance. He is a good man. Understand that I am not blind to his faults. I know how he is perceived among strangers: proud, aloof, overbearing, even resentful. Really he is just shy, especially around women. He finds it difficult to express his feelings and emotions. He is like his father who is reserved by nature and it takes some time before he opens up. “

Abigail looked uneasily at her companion. “I do not think that he will ever wish to speak to me again. I said some terrible things, most of them untrue. But he pricked my temper when he announced that I was to marry him, and move with him to Derbyshire, and though our place in society is much different he believes I am intelligent enough to adjust to his social circle and be a good wife to him.”

Elizabeth laughed merrily. “I am sorry my dear I know it is not amusing for you, but I have heard that somewhere before too.”





*

to Mihaela who was so terrific to take trouble and find the real boarding school that existed in France since 1825. Its principal was Madame Maille Lhermit. The school was situated not far from Rennes, a 250 km de Paris, in Bretagne.

l'école privée Saint Joseph, dirigée par les soeurs de Saint Esprit- meaning the school SJ, under the direction of the St Esprit Sisters





Chapter Six




The first meeting with Mr. Darcy in London turned out to be extremely awkward for Abigail; however she was sure it was the same for him as well. Thankfully it occurred in a room full of people, so they were not left to themselves. They did not speak about their last meeting. Mr. Darcy asked a safe question about her father's health, to which she replied he was well when she had left home. That was the sum end of their conversation for the evening.

During their next encounters Mr. Darcy did not speak much either. At first she thought that he was simply angry with her because of their last meeting, but later she observed that he seemed genuinely happy to see her. He appeared to be pleased just being in her company, sitting nearby and listening to her conversations with other people. Abigail came to understand his behaviour better when she met the older Mr. Darcy; not that he was that old. He did not look old at all; he must have been sixty or so, but he was still a very handsome man, despite the cane he was using. When she was first introduced to him, she felt rather insecure under that blatant gaze of his. He seemed to be appraising her for a long time before she saw upon his face that little half smile (previously she called it that mean smirk), which she had seen so many times before on his son's face.

No one who saw Andrew and Fitzwilliam Darcy together would dare to contradict the resemblance. Their voices, movements and facial expressions were exactly the same. The son was an inch or so taller than his father and his build was more muscular. He also seemed to have his mother's nose and lips, but those were the only differences that Abigail noticed. Mr. Darcy senior could not be called talkative either. It was mainly his wife who spoke, asking him for his opinion from time to time, which he answered most often with a laconic, “Yes, my dear” or “No, my dear.” Abigail was also very much surprised when she observed that Mrs. Darcy made sport of her husband quite openly and in front of the whole family. He did not seem displeased or even disturbed with her behaviour. On the contrary he rather enjoyed her teasing. One time after, in Abigail's opinion, a particularly daring remark of his wife's concerning his extremely conservative political beliefs he just smiled, took her hand into his, kissed it and clearly did not let it go untill she moved from the place beside him to talk with her daughter-in-law.

Abigail met the rest of the family as well. Mr. Darcy's younger brother Jacob and his wife Rebecca were very agreeable indeed. They had a little baby boy, James who was now a little over one year old; the whole family was delighted with his first walking attempts. Jacob Darcy looked much like his brother and father, but his disposition was more like his mother's. However, Abigail presumed that he was amiable only when he wished to take the trouble. The youngest of the Darcy brothers, Mr. Richard Darcy was most like their mother. He was, of course, very tall and had dark curly hair like his brothers but he had Mrs. Darcy's fine eyes with long lashes and her very easy manners. Abigail thought that he must be very good with his patients, as he had the ability to make others feel easy in his company. When his elder brothers made others nervous or uncomfortable, intimidating most people with their sheer presence, Richard Darcy with only a few words was able to make one feel relaxed.

Abigail truly came to like to the youngest Darcy brother. She enjoyed their conversation very much and found Richard to be very interested in her teaching. He himself had an unpaid job as a doctor in one of the London orphanages. She was curious about the illnesses typical of the children from the poorest families that she observed among her students. Abigail was very much surprised when she noticed Mr. Darcy to be somehow displeased with the fact the she was conversing with his youngest brother so often. Once when she and Richard spoke at length he came and sat next to her on the sofa a did not utter a single word. Richard seemed unsurprised with his brother's sudden presence and just informed him of what they were discussing and then started explaining how to help children with avitaminosis* in the best and most efficient way. Mr. Darcy did not partake in the conversation; he just sat with them and listened. Abigail found such behaviour rather odd, but Richard seemed to be undisturbed by his brother's antics.

She was soon accustomed to the notion that, though Mr. Darcy did not speak a great deal to her he was always somewhere near her. They saw each other nearly every day. Abigail was quite sure it was his mother and aunt's actions to throw them in each other's company so often. In no time she got used to Mr. Darcy's presence by her side and found it natural and even somehow comforting. Moreover, it could not be denied that he was very kind to her and to her brother. Almost every day there were walks, concerts, picnics, trips to the theatre or some museum or gallery. One day in the Hyde Park he drew her attention to a young pair in an open carriage telling her it was Queen Victoria with her husband.** Abigail tried not to stare too much at Her Majesty but she noticed that she was not very pretty, nor as refined or sophisticated as she had thought her to be. She shared her observations with Mr. Darcy, adding that she looked quite different than the picture she saw in the newspaper. Miss Darcy who was with them that day, remarked that though the Queen was not very pretty her husband was dashingly handsome. Abigail barely contained her laughter when she saw Mr. Darcy's facial expression at his sister's remark.

Most often it was Miss Darcy who accompanied them as their chaperone. The young lady took her role very seriously indeed and felt very important because of her assignment. She understood herself a valid participant in her mother and aunt's plot to bring the young couple together. She was more than willing to turn a blind eye to some secret kisses and embraces; however, her brother disappointed her sorely in this matter. He was as proper as always. Jane loved Andrew with her whole heart and admired him more than any man, apart from her own father of course. He was her wonderful elder brother and her protector, but she had to admit that he was an extremely dull suitor. He did not behave at all like the romantic heroes from the novels she read; because in Jane Darcy's fifteen year-old mind, his holding Abigail's hand whenever possible, was not what could be called the most thrilling and passionate action.

Thomas clearly adored Mr. Darcy who became his new hero and role model. If fishing in Cornwall had not captured his heart, the fencing lessons that he was given in London undoubtedly did. At first Abigail was not a little afraid to let him practice such a dangerous sport, but Mr. Darcy convinced her it was perfectly safe when precautions were taken and the rules obeyed. To ease her fears, the first lesson took place in the small garden at the back of Lady Walsingham's London Townhouse in Abigail's presence. Abigail had to admit she was more focused on the look of Mr. Darcy, clad only in his shirt, tight breeches and high boots than her own brother's safety. She felt truly quite warm observing Mr. Darcy's fluid movements when he was showing Thomas the basic moves, not to mention the view the man presented from the backside.

After spending nearly two months in London, Abigail came to a point when she could not imagine a day without seeing Mr. Darcy. Everything his mother said to her back in Cornwall turned out to be true. He was shy, but also very sweet; she could not imagine a more gentle and tender man than he. She was aware now that she had allowed her pride and prejudice to blind her when she first saw him. Since that unfortunate night at Kestle, he did not attempt anything close to his amorous behaviour then. He did not try to touch her, and certainly not kiss or embrace her. He seemed to hold her hand longer than necessary when handing her into a carriage or greeting her but that was all. Abigail had to admit that back in Cornwall he was somehow more ardent. That day on the beach, his behaviour was almost rakish. Maybe he was afraid to repeat it, fearing she would hit him again.

After great deliberation on the subject she came to the conclusion that a little of encouragement would not be so bad. So when they were in the theatre together with Lady Walsingham and Mrs. Darcy, she made sure she sat next to him in the box. And when it was really dark and everyone's attention seemed to be focused on the actors' performance she gathered her courage and reached for his hand. At first he did nothing, just letting her hold his hand and she even considered removing it, when she felt him move her hand to his lap. He then very slowly removed her glove, kissed her fingers softly, and then cradled her hand in both of his. He held her hand untill the very end of the evening despite her weak attempts to remove it. His mother and aunt did not or rather pretended not to see anything. After that evening, every time they were in each other's company, apart from public places of course, the first thing he would do upon sitting next to her was take her hand. She was a little apprehensive when he first did it in front of his family, but nobody seemed to be appalled by his actions; nobody seemed to even notice. Soon Abigail got accustomed to talking with his mother, aunt or sister with one of her hands imprisoned in both of his.




*Avitaminosis is any disease caused by chronic or long-term vitamin deficiency or caused by a defect in metabolic conversion, such as tryptophan to niacin.
* * I am not sure whether Queen Victoria was in London during late summer/early autumn 1842. I found the letters she sent from Windsor Castle dated August 1842 though. At the time she was somewhere between her second and the third pregnancy. Her daughter Alice was born on 25 April 1843, so even when she was already pregnant with her she could still appear in public.


***

Both dresses were very pretty. The first was ordered on the insistence of her father, who wanted her to have an appropriate dress for `special occasions' as he called them, when in London. The second was a present from Lady Walsingham, who insisted on her accepting it as a gift, though Abigail tried to assure her that she was not really in need of another gown. Abby was pleased to notice that the one made back at home, did not present itself less advantageously than the other one. The silk was of the finest quality and though it was sewn by the local seamstress, the cut was taken from one of the French magazines prescribed by Lady Walsingham.

There was a soft knock at the door. “Abigail?”

“Yes, Lady Walsingham. I still cannot decide which one I should wear to the opera today.”

Georgiana moved close to Abigail and said quietly, “ My dear, I am not sure you will wish to go today.”

Abigail looked at the older woman's face searchingly. “Why? Has something happened?”

“Yes, my child. I have just received an express from Kestle. It is about your father.”

“Is he well?”

“No, he is not. He is ill. He got chilled just after we left, but refused to rest and he was still working. Pneumonia developed. The doctor says his state is very serious, considering his weak heart.”

“I must go home. Now. Today,” Abigail whispered, her face pale, her hands trembling.

“Abigail you cannot go now. It is early evening. I shall send the message to Andrew that we will not be attending this evening.”

Abigail shook her head, a terrified expression upon her face. “I must go now. Father needs me.”

“Abigail, you cannot go now. It is a long journey to Cornwall.”

“But I must go there,” Abigail cried fiercely, tears streaming down her face. She escaped from Georgiana's embrace and ran out of the room. As she flew down the staircase, she felt strong hands catching her arms.

“Miss Wesley,” Darcy exclaimed, trying to look into her tear filled eyes. “Abigail? What is wrong?”

“I…” Abigail started but could not finish as she burst into tears.

Darcy shook her gently. “Good God. What is the matter?”

“I... Father is ill. Lady Walsingham got a message from her… from Lord Walsingham. Father has pneumonia. I must go home. Now.”

“Abigail, calm yourself. It is almost dark. You cannot go now!”

“But...”

“Yes, I know. But it is too late to start out now. Your father is strong; he will be better, I am sure,” he said, stroking her arms soothingly.

“You do not understand. He had a very bad flu two years ago. The doctor said his heart is weakened and he might not survive the next such illness. That is why I make sure he never gets cold as it may lead to something more serious; but I was not there! And this is pneumonia. He is there all alone! I left him alone.”

Andrew gathered her to him, cradling her to his chest, feeling every spasm shaking her delicate body. “We will leave at first light in the morning.”

Abigail raised her puffy face to him. “You will go with us?”

“Yes, of course. I will take you there. It will be all right. Your father will not surrender without a fight. He will not willingly give up. He has you and Thomas to live for.”

Her brown eyes widened and looked at him pleadingly. “Do you truly think so?”

He put his hands on her arms reassuringly. “Yes. I shall see to everything. You should drink some tea, prepare yourself and Thomas for the journey, and go to bed early.”

Abigail looked at Darcy for a long moment. Next she rose on her tiptoes, putting her arms around his neck, and dipping her face into his shirt. “Thank you, Andrew,” she whispered.






Chapter Seven





The luxurious carriage, deeply covered with mud, stopped in front of the modest looking manor house. Andrew Darcy stepped out first to assist Abigail and then Thomas as they exited. It was early evening, the second day of their journey. The moment their feet touched the ground, Abigail and Thomas rushed into the house, not stopping for a moment till they reached their father's bedroom. They entered the room cautiously, Abigail giving her brother signs to stay quiet. Mr. Welsey seemed to be sleeping, but his breathing was heavy and laboured; his head was turned to the other side.

Abigail touched his shoulder delicately “Father, we are here.”

Mr. Welsey turned his head slowly “Abby...?” he rasped.

“Father!” Thomas cried, throwing himself over the lying man.

“..and Thomas.” Mr. Welsey whispered stroking boy's head. “What are you doing here?”

Abigail sat on the edge of the bed, taking her father's calloused, work-worn hand in both of her delicate ones. “Lord Walsingham sent the message to his wife about your illness. We left as soon as it was possible. Mr. Darcy organized everything and brought us here in only two days.”

The tears started to gather in older man's eyes “Abby, my child. Thank God I thought I would never see you and Thomas again.”

Abigail brought his hand to her cheek “Oh Father, please do not say such things. You are going to be all right. You are conscious and you speak with us..”

“Abby, Mr. Darcy brought you…”

“Yes, he was most kind..”

“Abby. Where is he?”

“Downstairs, I believe.”

“Go there and tell him I wish to speak with him. Now, Abby. Go…”

“But Father…”

“Go….. Thomas will stay with me.”

She returned a few minutes later with Andrew. Mr. Welsey was laying peacefully as if sleeping, Thomas still sitting by his side. Abigail gently touched his shoulder. “Father, Mr. Darcy is here.”

Mr. Wesely opened his eyes, his gaze resting on the newcomer “Ah, yes. Good. Mr. Darcy, I thank you for bringing my children so quickly.”

“It was nothing, sir.”

“No, it was. It was. It is quite something my boy. I wish to speak with you and Abigail; just two of you.” he turned to Thomas “You will go to Mrs. Bell for a little while, son. I need to speak privately with Mr. Darcy. It is very important.”

“But I can come back to you later?” the boy asked tremulously.

“Of course, Thomas. You will tell me about everything you did in London.”

“Oh Father, there is so much to tell! Mr. Darcy took me to his fencing club and I …”

Mr. Welsey interrupted him in a weak voice “That is wonderful, Thomas; but now I need to talk with your sister and Mr. Darcy. Please go downstairs. Mr. Bell has something good for you there.” he said, raising himself slightly and hugging the boy to him, a single tear going down his cheek “Now go, Thomas. Go, my son.”

When the boy left the room, Mr. Welsey turned to Darcy.

“I have an important question to ask you. Will you hear it?"

"Certainly, sir, whatever it is I will listen."

Mr. Welsey relaxed back to his bed and asked, "Do you still love my daughter?"

“Father!” Abigail cried indignantly.

Mr. Welsey ignored her cry of outrage and repeated. “Do you?”

“Yes. With all my heart.”

“Do you still wish to marry her?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I ask you to marry her and take care of her and Thomas. I wish for Thomas to inherit the estate in good condition. I would like him to finish university as well. Will you see to it?”

“Yes. You have my word, sir.” Darcy stated calmly, looking directly into older man's eyes. He then reached over to grab his hand and give Mr. Welsey a firm shake signifying his solemn promise.

Abigail stepped forward, crying in an unnaturally high pitched voice “Father, do not talk as if you were…”

But he stopped her from proceeding, “Abigail, you must promise me; swear to me that you will marry Mr. Darcy after my death.”

“Father, what are you saying?”

“Daughter, he will take care of both of you. The world is harsh and cruel. You will not manage on your own. He is a good man and will never harm you. Tis time for you to stop with this foolishness. Swear on your mother's grave you will marry Mr. Darcy..”

“But Father, you will get better and you will take care of us…'

Mr. Welsey shook his head slowly. “Swear you will marry him …”

“I swear, but… “

“…..on your mother's grave.”

“I swear; but surely you will …”

Mr. Welsey interrupted her in a slightly stronger voice “Good. I want you to get married as soon as can be. I do not wish that you wait until the end of mourning.”

“Papa, what are you saying? You cannot speak such things…”

Mr. Welsey, as if not paying attention to his daughter's words, turned to the Darcy again. “Can I have your word on this? As soon as you can make all the necessary arrangements?"

“Yes, sir.”

Abby kneeled next to the ill man's bed, taking his hand, crying and choking “ Father, no, please. Do not leave us, you cannot..”

“Take care of them, son.” Mr. Welsey whispered before his head fell lifelessly to one side.

“Father! No! No! You cannot!” Abigail cried, trying to raise her father's lifeless body. She felt someone's arms come around her, imprisoning her. She started to cry hysterically, not controlling herself anymore.

“Take her away from here.” She heard someone's voice and felt that she was being carried to the sofa in another room. Then some big hand cradled her head, making her to drink something bitter. It was the last thing she remembered.

***

Andrew Darcy was looking at his fiancée, dressed in black, her hair arranged in a simple plait. She was sitting opposite him, her little face drawn and pale. She was staring with blank eyes at the carpet. Andrew's heart bled for her. He had what he wanted; her word. She swore on her mother's grave she would marry him; but at what cost? He would prefer not to have her promise than to see her so miserable.

Since the outburst when they had to sedate her, she did not cry at all. She did not speak much either. She seemed to be disinterested in all that was going on around her. He took care of the funeral together with the Walsinghams. Mr. Welsey had been buried just the day before. Mrs. Darcy and Lady Walsingham stayed with her during the funeral, and when the gentlemen returned, she went upstairs to her room. She did not emerge till the late this morning. She did not know that he sat by her door the whole time, afraid what she might do in such a state.

“Where is Thomas?” the quiet, slightly hoarse voice came from Abigail.

“Aunt Gina took him to Kestle.”

“Ah.” was all she said, her gaze returning to the previous place on the floor.

Andrew came close to her, kneeling in front of her “Abigail, please say something or I will go mad.”

“Why?”

“If you do not wish to respect your father's wish, pray tell me.”

“My father's wish….”

“For us to marry.”

“I want to marry you. I trust you. I…love you.”

“Oh, Abby. Thank you dearest.” He kissed her hands. They were icy cold. “You are freezing. I must warm you.” He started rubbing her hands and later her slender shoulders “Where is your shawl?”

“I do not know. Do you think it is my fault he is dead?”

“Sweetheart, what are you saying?”

“My fault. If I had stayed home, I would have seen that he stayed in bed with that cold, there would have been no pneumonia and now he would be living.”

Andrew took her face into his big hands, gently forcing her to look at him “Sweetheart. It is not your fault. People just die.”

“We were so happy together; Papa, Thomas and me. It is unfair.”

“I know”

“Andrew. If you do not truly want to, you do not have to marry me and take care of us. I will manage..”

“Abigail…” he looked intently into her questioning eyes before placing her head on his chest and embracing her tightly.

“Good.” She murmured into his shirt.

“When do we go?” she asked after a long moment.

“Where do you want to go?”

“I do not know. London or Derbyshire. Where do you plan for us to go?”

“Would you not like to stay here for some time?”

She shook her head.

“I thought we would first go to London. You will stay with Aunt Gina until our wedding. After that we could stay a couple of weeks in London and then go to Derbyshire.”

“Of course. May I take some personal things? I have a bureau that belonged to my mother, her portrait, some books.”

“You can take whatever you wish.”

“Thank you. For everything.”

“Abby...”

“I am tired. I would like to go to my room and rest. I did not sleep well last night.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Andrew. Could you do something for me?” she asked softly and as if looking for right words. Then in a very shy voice, she added, “Could go with me to my room and stay with me until I fall asleep?”

Without uttering a single word, Andrew lifted her into his arms and carried her upstairs to her room. He placed her on the bed and covered her with a blanket. He then removed his coat and shoes and laid down next to her. Abigail immediately snuggled to him. His arms went around her protectively, and she sighed softly and closed her eyes.






Chapter Eight





The wedding between Miss Abigail Welsey and Mr. Andrew Darcy took place in London six weeks after the funeral of the bride's father. It was a quiet affair, only the groom's parents, the young couple's siblings and Lord and Lady Walsingham were present. After the ceremony, Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy went home to Derbyshire, taking Thomas with them. Andrew and Abigail were to join them in two weeks. Abby was a little afraid to let Thomas go with Andrew's parents, but the boy seemed to be quite exited to see Pemberley after hearing so much about it. Moreover, she was acutely aware that her husband wished to spend at least some time alone with her.

It was early afternoon when the new Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were left on their own in the Darcy Townhouse. Abigail stood in the middle of the elegant drawing room, not very sure what she should do now, being a newly wed Mrs. Darcy. She felt her husband coming behind her and hugging her to him. He nuzzled her neck, asking “How are you, my love?”

She relaxed against his solid frame and whispered “I am fine.”

He turned her around to face him and looked intently at her “But you still think about your father?”

“No, not so much. It is better now. At the beginning I felt so desperate, so miserable, so unhappy. Now the worst thing is that I forget that he is no longer living. I think that he will say this or do that. It is horrible.”

The arms embracing her tightened even more around her “I do not know how to help you, love.”

She gave him a small sad smile, sighing softly “I do not know it either; though I presume it is good that my life is changing so much. My thoughts can be more agreeable occupied with other things to distract these sad feelings I still have.”

“Such as…”

“Well, I am a little confused.”

“Confused about what?”

“About what I should do now, I mean, as your wife,” she looked at him, seeing him smiling at her, “I know that I am being silly. But everything is all new to me.”

“No, it is natural you are a little apprehensive about your new life. All is going to be well, Abby. For me it is enough that you are here with me.”

She smiled at him shyly and added “I am thinking about Thomas as well. He will be all alone for the next weeks.”

“But it is not the first time you have parted with him. You were in France for a few years.”

“Yes, but that was different. Father was with him.”

“It is because of my selfishness. I wanted to have you just for myself for some time; only you and me.”

“Andrew, I understand that. Before I met you, Thomas and Father were my whole world. But now you are my family as well. Thomas should learn that you are equally important to me as he is. But is it still hard to let him go, even for a short time; even under your parents' care.”

“Abigail, your brother will surely miss you, but in just a few years he will go to school as your father wished for him. He will be there on his own, alone among complete strangers. You cannot forever keep him next to your skirt.”

“Yes, I know. You are right. I can only hope he will not be too much a burden for your parents.”

Andrew chuckled “Please remember, my love, that my parents have vast experience in managing young boys. I am sure they have not forgotten the times where all three of us were still together with them at Pemberley.”

“Your childhood must have been very happy. You are always smiling when you talk about your it.”

“We were very lucky to have such parents. A child knows, feels somehow, I believe, when he or she is a labour of love and not just the result of a coincidence, lust or other things that make people be together. Trust me Abby, I believe that Thomas will benefit being with both my parents. They are very loving and caring people. You have nothing to worry about on that score about Thomas feeling alone.”

Abigail nestled closer to him and murmured, “What do you plan for today?”

“Whatever you wish. Maybe you would like to rest? You have been tired lately.”

“I am not sleepy, but I feel tired. I try to nap, but I cannot. I think I should start my daily walks as it was before…”

She did not finish as he kissed her lips softly. “I think you are right. Today is such a pleasant day. I am sure that Hyde Park looks beautiful with all these wonderous colours. It is warm and sunny. We will take the open carriage. What do you think, wife?” he said stressing the word wife.

“I find it a very good idea, husband.” she replied in turn.

The trip to the park turned out to be very pleasant indeed. After they returned home they ate an early dinner and Abigail played for him a little in the music room. After two pieces, she stood up and moved to the sofa where he was seated and said, “I am tired. I think I shall retire. I will be waiting for you.” she said, leaning to kiss his cheek.

He caught her hand “Abigail, does it mean you are willing to… I mean you ready for us to…”

“Of course I am ready. I need an hour to prepare myself. We will meet upstairs.”

She hastily left the room and her bewildered husband. He did not expect that. He thought she would like to wait some time at least before taking that step. The whole engagement and wedding were a rushed affair. He expected her not to be ready for such intimacy. So much had happened in her life lately, but she behaved as if she had considered it to be natural to happen between them. Maybe he just misunderstood her?

An hour later, Andrew was still sitting on the bed in his own bedroom clad only in his shirt and trousers, pondering on Abigail's words and behaviour. There was a soft knock at the door and Abigail appeared. She wore nearly transparent clothes, trimmed with delicate lace.

She approached him closely and gently took his hand “I thought you would come to me. What is the matter? You do not wish to…”

He stood up immediately, gathering her to him ”Of course I wish to, but I did not want to intrude on you so soon, if you are not ready to be intimate with me, especially after all that you have been through."

She raised on her toes, put her hands around his neck and kissed him lightly.

“Abby, are you sure you are ready for this?”he looked searchingly into her eyes.

“Yes, indeed I am very certain. I want to be truly your wife. I am not afraid of you. Well I am a little nervous. Your aunt told me what would happen. But still…”

“We do not have to do it tonight.”

“You are so sweet, Andrew. I do not know how I ever thought you to be such arrogant, cold, overbearing and…” his facial expression stopped her in tracks. She smiled at him innocently saying “Well, I did think that way before...”

He was still frowning, his dark brows knitted in one. She raised herself again and tried to reach the crease on his forehead to kiss it away. She still found it difficult to accomplish the task due to the discrepancy in their height, and eventually Andrew was given a short peck on his nose. Her endavours relaxed the atmosphere, making him chuckle, and he lifted her a little so she could kiss his forehead.

At length she looked at him seriously and said “I want this to happen between us. I want to be your wife. I feel so lonely since Papa's death. I want somebody to love me.”

“Oh, my sweet darling.” He started kissing her deeply, his hands roaming over her body, “Do not be afraid.” he whispered against her lips.

“I am not.” she said quickly. Too quickly.

He looked warmly at her. “No, of course not. My brave, brave little wife.” He bent to whisper into her ear “I want to remove your clothes, may I?”

“Yes.” she said in a small voice.

He started untying her dressing gown, and then her almost translucent nightgown. When she was naked, she ordered herself to stand still in front of him, and not to cover herself with her hands.

“You are beautiful. Perfect.” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders lightly.

“Truly?” she searched his face for the signs of disapproval and disappointment, “Are you not disappointed I am not… more full?”

“What?”

“ You once said once I was too skinny. And I have heard gentlemen prefer the ladies with bigger…I mean more…”

He looked at her with amused smile, and taking her hand guided them to the bed. He sat at the edge of it, pulling her on his lap and finishing for her “breasts?”

She nodded, not looking at him.

“Abby, who told you that nonsense?” Andrew asked, drawing her even closer to him.

“A girl at school in France. She said I am too flat to lure a gentleman.” Abigail murmured into his neck.

“Darling, look at me. You have never had any problems with luring me to you; I can assure you! Your body is beautiful, and I adore the way you are made, that you are petite. And you are not flat. Your breasts are perfect; beautifully formed and proportional to your lovely body.” he said, touching gently one soft mound, “I have been thinking how they would look since the second time I saw you. You were wearing a deeply cut dress, so I could see their tops. Then I noticed they are also freckled, like your face.” he said tracing with his fingertips the red dot pattern on the upper slope of her breast.

Abby moaned softly, feeling him stroking her breast. “You had such thoughts about me so early in our acquaintance? But you said I look as a child.”

“So, you would prefer me to say in front of my uncle that I find your breasts are lovely.”

She giggled, but he silenced her with a kiss. “Enough talking, madam.” he said swiftly, rolling her onto her back. He started kissing her lips and neck. Abigail put her arms around him, her fingers combing through his curls. After several long minutes, she felt him lifting from her slightly to remove his clothes. She observed him with wide eyes when he was removing his shirt, but when he reached to unbutton his trousers, she quickly looked away. Sensing she was uncomfortable with his nakedness, he gently raised her, took the covers aside and put her under them. He joined her and removed his trousers under the bedclothes. She gasped when she felt his unclothed lower body next to hers.

“It is all right Abby. Easy my love.” he whispered, gathering her close to him but doing nothing more for some time than holding her. When he felt her relax against him, he resumed the kisses on her neck. His hand moved down her body, stroking her breasts. When his hand reached her lower belly all coherent thought had left her.

* * *

Andrew Darcy woke alone in the bed. There was no trace of Abigail. Her nightgown was missing as well. He jumped out of the bed, hastily putting on his robe, anxious about her whereabouts. Had he frightened her so much she decided to flee from him? The scenes of the last night stood before his eyes; her embarrassed reactions to his caresses and kisses, her beauty, when he took off her nightclothes. She looked so small and fragile in his bed; her milky skin so beautiful in the candlelight. Her petite body was perfect, so soft, fragrant and feminine. He closed his eyes in agony when he remembered her startled cry and the tension in her body when he entered her. Then the whimpers of discomfort coming from her when he was moving against her; her small hands clasping defensively onto his shoulders. He later noticed the blood on her thighs mixed with his seed. She had looked at him with those frightened, disoriented eyes. She let him wash her tenderly afterwards. Moreover, she did not protest when he gathered her into his arms, close to him. At last she had fallen asleep in his arms. She did not seem to be angry with him, but still…

He called her name. “Abigail?”

“I am here.” Her voice came from the adjacent sitting room. He rushed there to see the balcony windows wide open and her standing before them.

“What are you doing? You will freeze.” he inquired, approaching her quickly, closing the glass doors and taking her into his arms, rubbing her back.

“Andrew, do not worry so, I am quite well. I just wanted to take in some fresh air. And the world outside looks so beautiful this morning.” she murmured into his chest.

He kissed the top of her head and said quietly “I was afraid you had run from me after last night.”

She raised her head at him in surprise “But why? I do not understand.”

“Oh, please. I know I have hurt you.”

She cupped his face with her hand and he leaned into her touch. “Andrew, it is natural that the first time is painful.”

“But it was too painful for you. I should have helped you more. If I had more experience in this...”

“Andrew you did everything possible to ease my discomfort. I am sure of that. I certainly would not wish for you to be some rake with hordes of women marching through your bed. I am sure the next time is going to be better; for both of us.”

“I just cannot forgive myself.”

“There is nothing to forgive! I am grateful you were so patient and delicate with me. As I said, it was my first time, so certain discomfort could not be avoided,” she blushed heavily, not looking at him, “And you are much bigger than me so I presume it would take some time for us to… to adjust to one another.”

He hugged her to him again and murmured into her hair. “Are you all right now?”

“Yes.”

“Are you in pain?”

“No. Just a little sore.”

“Maybe the doctor should see you. You bled. So much.”

“Andrew, look at me.” she cupped his cheek decidedly. “I do not need doctor. Just a couple of days to heal. I bleed much more every month.”

He looked at her in alarm, till the realization of her words came on him. “I promise to be more careful next time.”

“I know you will; but I am not a China doll. I shall not break. I do not want for you to be afraid to touch me. I may be small, but I am very, very strong.”

“You are strong, you say.” he grinned down at her.

She smiled cheekily back at him “Yes, of course, very strong; but never as strong as my tall, handsome and absolutely dashing husband.”

“You little minx. What am I going to do with you?”

She raised on her toes and kissed him. “At this very moment, I am in a dire need of a bath.”

Chapter Nine



Mr. Andrew Darcy was sitting at the big oak table in the kitchen of the Darcy Townhouse in London. The room was situated in the cellars, below the ground, being mainly lighted by the fire upon the great stone hearth. His wife of two days, all rosy and preoccupied, her elegant black dress hugged with a large white apron, was serving him hachis parmentier.*

“Mhm…, this is delicious. I have never tasted anything as good as this.”

“Truly?” she asked clearly excited, “You like it?”

“Like it? It tastes heavenly.” he murmured, putting another piece into his mouth, an expression of utter delight on his handsome face.

“I am glad.” she said, putting some more meat on his plate.

“When did you learn to cook like this?” he mumbled, his mouth full.

“In France, of course. Madame Lhermit proclaimed that English cuisine is possibly the worst in the world. Consequently all the girls from England were given additional cooking lessons.”

“You were taught to cook? But why, I thought that my sister is attending that school to become a truly accomplished young woman and prepare herself…”

“…and prepare herself for the role of wife and mistress of the house.” Abigail finished for him.

Andrew glared at her “I did not say that.”

“But you thought that. Calm down. Andrew, your sister is still very young. I am sure your father will not allow her to be courted by anyone until she is at least 18. You have nothing to worry about for the time being.”

Andrew sighed heavily and spoke “Thank God! But you claim that Jane is being taught how to cook there.”

“I am sure she is. Not only cook, but clean, wash, sew including mending the clothes, iron, do the household accounts, even polish the silvers.”

“She will have servants for that.” Andrew remarked, visibly bewildered.

“Of course she will; however Madame Lhermit always stated that in order to be a good lady of the house, able to run the house smoothly, a woman should be able to do everything that lies within the responsibility of her servants. That way no one can ever mislead her. She knows from her own experience whether something is done properly or not.”

“There is indeed sense to that. When I was a little boy, my brothers and I learned to tend to the sheep.”

Abby laughed merrily, “You had to be a charming shepherd.”

“And you, love, are the most charming cook.” he said, drawing her onto his lap and putting the last piece of beef into her mouth. “You are my own little chef… Are you not afraid, now that I am aware of your culinary talents, I will lock you in the kitchen for the rest of your life?”

“No, I am not; but I am worried what the servants will say.”

Andrew frowned “About…”

“About me giving them a free evening to cook you a dinner by myself.”

“Abby, if someone dares to speak a word, or spread any kind of gossip about our personal life at home it will be his or her last day of employment in our home, without any reference from us for service elsewhere."

“Andrew…'

“You are Mrs. Darcy now. They will have to get used to the new customs, because I am determined to repeat this experience at least once a week. We cannot allow your culinary skills to get rusty.”

Abigail raised herself from his lap. “I think you will not allow that to happen.”

“Definitely not.” he said, drawing her to him again and placing his head on her chest. He felt her embracing him, her chin on the top of his head.

“The last letter Jane sent was so sad. She is miserable there, I am afraid. She misses home.” He murmured into her apron.

Abigail stroked his back soothingly “I know, my dear, but give her some time. I was desperate at the beginning, but then I found new friends. It is going to be the same with her, I assure you. Jane is so charming and lively. I wrote a letter to Madame Lhermit, informing her that Miss Jane Darcy is my sister-in-law. I am sure she will take special care of her.”

Andrew raised his head to look at her. “Madame Lhermit must have liked you a lot.”

“Yes, I think so.”

“She gave you the pest.”

Abigail freed herself from his embrace rather abruptly and spoke with evident exasperation “Oh, Andrew! How can you call Collette that?”

“Why? I did not say overgrown rat.”

“I think it is your own fault she does not like you. She knows that you do not like her and she is hurt. You have forbidden her to enter our bedchamber.”

“Hurt! Abigail, be reasonable. I am to allow her to sleep with us in one room?”

“She did before I got married. She slept in her basket next to my bed.”

“Forgive me, madam, but I married you, not Collette. Nothing will change that, even if it hurts her feelings. I want to have you for myself, especially at night.”

“But she would be very quiet.” she said with a pleading expression in her big brown eyes.

Andrew tried to keep his resolve, knowing well what that particular look usually did to him “Abby, I think I would get easily distracted with her in the room.”

“Distracted?” she asked innocently.

“Yes, distracted. Have you not noticed she barks at me every time I want to touch you? Do not laugh at me; it is a serious matter!”

“I am not laughing. I would not dare.” she said, hiding her head into his shoulder trying to contain her amusement.

“That is enough about the dog, Mrs. Darcy.” He stood up, taking her hand in his “Come, let us go to bed. It is late and I must get up early in the morning. I have some business with the solicitor and in the afternoon there is my fencing session.”

She followed him obediently, but after a few steps, she stopped. “Andrew, for some time now I have wanted to thank you.”

He turned to her, his brow furrowed. “Thank me….”

“Yes, for that money you sent to Mr. Crofton for the school.”

The expression of genuine surprise appeared on his handsome face. “How did you know? It was not my intention for you to know about it.”

“I know. You are too noble to win my favours in such a way. I suspected from the very beginning that it was you; who else could it be after all? But I refused to acknowledge the fact; as you know, I did not like you very much then.”

He cupped her cheek tenderly. “Yes, I know.”

“I kept the card you wrote to our parson, then I compared it with the notes you wrote to me during our engagement.” She raised on her toes and kissed his cheek lightly, “Thank you. You helped a lot of children with the money.”

He gathered her closely to him and whispered, “If I am to receive such thanks from you every time I donate some money on charity, I think I should do it much more often.”

“Really? How often?”

“Well, it depends on the manner of thanks; they could be even more profuse.”

Abigail pretended to be appalled. “And I thought you did it because of your good heart!”

“Yes, of course; but with the right incentive, I would be even more prone…” He did not finish, but bit gently her neck.

“I understand.” She whispered.

“Good.“ He raised his head from her neck, and the very next moment she was thrown over his shoulder.

“Andrew!” she squeaked “Put me down!”

“Oh no, madam! You once refused me the pleasure of carrying you. You must pay for this now, you know!”

Abby was carried up the great staircase in the Darcy Townhouse, thinking that her husband was the most insufferable man after all.


***


Andrew Darcy entered the Darcy Townhouse just after the noon. He had little less than hour to eat something and change for the rest of the afternoon. He handed his greatcoat and hat to servant asking “Where is Mrs. Darcy?”

“In her rooms, Master. She asked to inform callers she is not receiving guests today. She was not feeling well, I believe.”

Andrew did not listen what the servant wanted to say and rushed upstairs. What could have happened? She had been well in the morning. She was sleeping peacefully when he had left their bedroom. He stormed into their private sitting room, and only seconds later was entering the bedroom. Abby was lying on her side, with her back to him. The bed was made and she lay on the lace coverlet, covered only with a light blanket, but her hair was down and she was still wearing her dressing gown.

When she heard him enter, she raised herself slightly, turning in his direction and spoke “Andrew? What are you doing here? You were to go to your fencing club.”

He approached her hastily, putting his hands on her “How can you ask what I am doing here? You are ill. Why have you not informed me? I shall call the doctor immediately.”

“Andrew, I do not need the doctor. My state is perfectly natural. It happens always near the end of the month.” She saw him frowning and rolled her eyes. “Andrew, this is my time of the month. My monthly courses came this morning.”

A look of relief spread on his face “You think me stupid.”

Abigail stroked his check “No, of course not. It is just new for you.”

“But you stayed in bed. You are unwell.”

She shrugged her arm slightly “Nothing unusual. I always feel slightly dizzy the first day, there is some pain in my lower abdomen, a headache and some tenderness in the breasts.”

“That is horrible.”

She just smiled “Andrew, it is perfectly natural. I shall be fine tomorrow, or maybe even in the evening. Now go to your training.”

“I am not going to go anywhere. I shall stay with you.”

“Andrew, you are sweet; but it is truly not necessary. It is nothing. There is no rational reason for you to stay here with me. ” He was not listening her. He removed his shoes and coat, only to climb in bed next to her and gather her close to him. He kissed her temple and neck, his warm hand wandering in the vicinity of her belly.

“Here?” he whispered, pressing his hand gently on her middle. She did not answer, but directed his hand lower. He started to massage her stomach with delicate, but sure moves. After a while, he moved his hand higher and opened her gown, cupping gently one breast and giving it the same attentions as her belly.

“Better?” he murmured into her ear. She just snuggled closer to him in answer, like a kitten who liked to be stroked. She was fast asleep a few minutes later, forgetting about her discomfort.






*It was Mihaela who helped me to choose the right dish. She checked that it was very fashionable and elegant at that time.
Hachis parmentier is a popular French dish whose two main ingredients are mashed potato and beef mince. The latter is most frequently made from lean meat that was already cooked and served as part of another meal a few days before, typically roast or boiled beef. It is regularly served for school dinner in France as it is cheap, easy to prepare in large quantity and very popular with children. The word hachis means "mince" in French and stems from the word hache ("axe"). This dish is named after Antoine-Augustin Parmentier, a French scientist who was instrumental in spreading the cultivation of the potato in France in the late eighteenth century.

The dish is similar to a cottage pie except that it is customarily not made with fresh beef mince. Meat leftover from a previous dish is ground and mixed with chopped French parsley. Potatoes are mashed and mixed with a bit of milk, cream, or butter, then seasoned with ground nutmeg. Half of the potato mash is layered at the bottom of a roasting dish, covered with the beef and parsley in a second layer, and the remaining potato mash is added as a third layer on top. The dish is sometimes covered with a layer of grated cheese. The hachis parmentier is then baked for about 20 minutes 220°C.

hachis Parmentier Recipe
French Beef
Ingredients:
18 oz. boiled or braised beef
2 tablespoons butter
3 onions, chopped
1 Tablespoon flour
3/4 cup beef stock
potato puree
melted butter
breadcrumbs


Directions:
Dice or coarsely chop the beef. Melt 2 T. butter in a shallow skillet and cook and cook the onions in it until they are golden.Sprinkle with 1 T. flour, cook until slightly brown, and then moisten with the beef stock. Cook for about 15 minutes, leave to cool, then add the beef and mix well. Place the beef and onions in a buttered gratin dish, cover with a layer of potato puree, sprinkle with bread crumbs, and moisten with meltwed butter. Brown in a very hot oven for about 15 minutes.

Although it is not traditional, a small cup of tomato fondue can be added to the chopped meat and a little grated cheese may be mixed with the breadcrumbs.
Hachis de Boeuf Parmentier is another classic potato dish (potatoes are stuffed with the onion beef mixture and napped with a rather complicated Sauce Lyonnaise). But that's another recipe. Enjoy








Chapter Ten





“Oh Andrew, will the ride through this park never end?” Abigail asked, a trace of impatience in her voice, as she was sitting close to the carriage window, looking curiously at the passing countryside.

“Patience, my dear.”

“I can see the house! Please, can we stop? I want to see it from here.” she cried excitedly.

They stopped, and Andrew helped her to step out from the carriage. From where they stood Pemberley was displayed at its best, with the lake in front of the manor.

Andrew came behind her, enveloping her in his arms.

“Do you approve?”

“Andrew, it is wonderful. It is so happily situated and so grand. It looks more like a palace I once saw in France than just a country house.”

“I am glad. Come. My parents and your brother are undoubtedly awaiting us impatiently.”

The second time the carriage stopped just in front of the main entrance. The moment Andrew handed her down; she received a serious blow from her brother, Thomas, who had rushed immediately into her embrace.

“Abby! I missed you!” The boy cried.

She hugged him tightly, kissing his short hair. “I missed you too, Thomas. Are you well?”

“Yes, Sister,” the boy murmured into her coat. A moment later he looked up at her and said, “Oh, Abby it is so wonderful here. There are so many horses, hounds and sheep; and hills and places to fish or swim…”

Abby smiled down at him. “Have you behaved yourself? I hope you have not caused too much trouble or inflicted yourself too much on Mr. and Mrs. Darcy.”

“He is perfectly well behaved, my dear, especially for a boy his age.” Mrs. Darcy said approaching them. “We are used to behaviour much more dreadful as far as young lads are concerned.”

“Mother, we were not so bad, were we?” Andrew said, coming closer to her, kissing her hand and rosy cheek. Elizabeth patted his face gently, smiling tenderly at him. Andrew put one of his arms around Abigail and the second around his mother, grinning happily at them.

“I see that I am all forgotten here, even being deprived of greeting my new daughter-in-law.” The grudging voice was heard from behind. Mrs. Darcy sighed exasperatedly at her husband's words, but Abigail hastily came to him.

“We are sorry to neglect you, sir. It was not our intention, pray believe me.”

Darcy senior looked down at her warmly. “Of course I believe you, my dear. It has never crossed my mind that it was your intention to cast me aside. I am not so certain about the others, however.” he said looking in the direction of his wife who rolled her eyes. “I am happy to welcome you to Pemberley, Abigail.”

“Thank you, sir. I am so grateful to…” she did not finish as she found herself pinned to the older gentleman's chest, her nose pressed into one of the buttons of his coat.

“Fitzwilliam, you will suffocate her.” Mrs. Darcy cried rushing to them and detangling Abigail from her husband's hug.

“You have survived somehow for the last thirty years.” Fitzwilliam Darcy remarked dryly.

Elizabeth just shook her head at him, “Come, my dear. It is cold here.” she said to Abigail, taking her arm and directing her into the house.

When the whole company was in the great hall, Mr. Darcy said. “I know that you want to refresh yourself and rest after the journey, but we would like to talk with you about something before you go upstairs.”

Andrew and Abigail looked at each other with confusion but promptly agreed.

When they were all seated in the drawing room and the tea was served, Mrs. Darcy spoke.

“Some years ago, we decided that we would like to move to something smaller, more comfortable and easier to maintain. There was no such house in the vicinity that would meet our expectations, so we decided to build one. It was finished this spring. It is situated within the Pemberley grounds, not even two miles from the manor.

It was her husband's time to speak, “We have already moved our personal things there in the last few weeks. You have the whole house for yourselves. Your things are already installed in the Master rooms.”

“It is our wedding present for both of you.” Elizabeth smiled at the young couple fondly.

The silence hung in the room for a while. Andrew was first to speak, “We never expected you to move out.”

“Andrew is right,” Abigail cried, “We would never wish you to feel that you have to move…”

Elizabeth put her hand reassuringly on Abigail's arm. “Abigail, everything is all right. We had our time here. It is your turn now. I have been the Mistress of Pemberley since I was a young girl, your age. It is a huge responsibility, you will see for yourself; and you must understand that at this time of my life, I am easily fatigued. I know that it is the same with my husband. It has been some forty years since he became the Master of Pemberley. For the last few years, we both realized that Andrew has actually been the one who takes care of everything.”

Fitzwilliam Darcy stood up. “It is time for us. Come, my dear, I am sure they want to be alone.”

Elizabeth took her husband's arm. “We expect you to have breakfast with us tomorrow morning.” She said before they left the room.

* * *

Abigail's conscience was not at ease until she saw with her own eyes that the house Andrew's parents had moved into was nothing at all like a tenant cottage. It actually looked more like a small mansion. Mrs. Darcy was very exited with her new house, showing it proudly to Abigail, stressing the building was equipped with all the newest appliances. Abigail, on her part, was not a little afraid how she would manage to run such a grand manor by herself. However, Andrew's mother was most supportive. She introduced her to the whole staff, informing them that Mrs. Andrew Darcy was now the new Mistress and she was to decide about everything from that very moment.


Andrew was the most caring of husbands. He might have not said much, but he showed her his affection with each look, touch and smile. They shared the master's bedroom, and every night he kissed her and touched her through her nightgown. However, since their wedding night he had not ventured any further. At first she was grateful she did not have to go through `the wifely duty' again for the time being. She still felt rather battered between her thighs after that time. Then her monthly courses came, followed by the long journey to Derbyshire. The first two weeks of their marriage passed like that, but she was sure that at Pemberley, Andrew would surely want to resume their intimate relations. To her surprise, and with not a little disappointment, the situation from London was repeated. He just kissed her, caressed her almost innocently, and held her close to him throughout the night. She was sure that he wanted, or at least was able, to be intimate with her, because she felt many times when they were lying close together at night that certain part of him was growing hard; and sometimes even during the day when he was kissing and embracing her.

Abby wished she could confide in someone with her problem, but the only person she could trust was Lady Walsingham, who was now in Cornwall. Mrs. Darcy was very kind, but still she could not speak about such a thing with Andrew's mother. At the end of the second week after their arrival at Pemberley, she gathered her courage and started kissing him and caressing his chest on her own. He clearly enjoyed her ministrations, but seemed not to take the hint, and again nothing more happened. The following night, she told him that she was feeling well now, but he just hugged her to himself and mumbled into her back that he was tired after a long day. She felt as if someone had slapped her face. It was obvious for her that he did not want her anymore. She waited until she was sure that he was asleep and carefully moved away from his embrace and scooted away from him. She allowed herself to cry silently for a while. She felt truly miserable. She was all alone in the world. Papa was dead and her brother seemed to be quite happy here running around the grounds all day. Worst of all, was that her husband of barely over a month did not seem to love her anymore.

However, she was not aware that Andrew Darcy was wide awake, watching her small trembling form, choking back her tears at the far end of the bed.

***

“Father, there is a certain matter I wish to discuss with you.”

“Certainly son. And how is your lovely wife doing?”

“It is about her.”

“Is she all right?”

“Yes. I am worried about her, and about us. You see, I do not want to hurt her and… but she… Good Gracious I cannot believe I am talking to my own father about such an intimate issue...”

Fitzwilliam Darcy looked thoughtfully at his son before he spoke “And who else would you be able to talk about this? I am a man, and believe you and your siblings were not born out of nothing. You are my son and should be able to trust me enough to be comfortable discussing any problem you may encounter. So… What is the matter?”

“Yes, of course I know this, but Father, I am afraid to hurt her. She is so delicate and fragile.”

“So, I am to understand that you both have never….“

“No, no, we did… we did… but only the one time… on our wedding night.”

“And since then she does not want to share your bed?”

“No. We sleep together; like you and Mama. She says it was the same with her parents, so neither of us can imagine it differently.”

“So she does not want you to make love to her. Do you think she is afraid of you?”

“She says she is not; but on our wedding night I hurt her, she bled and I believe that she had no pleasure out of it.”

“I see. Did she blame you?”

“No. In fact she was very considerate. She said it is normal that the first time is uncomfortable. But I know it was much more than uncomfortable for her. Oh, Father the look on her face when I… I do not want to see it ever again.”

“She does not allow you to touch her now?”

“No, it is not that. She has even suggested we should try again. And once, she tried to take the initiative.”

“But you…”

Andrew shook his head, “I just kiss her, caress her a little, embrace her and that is all. But last night, when she thought I was asleep, she cried. ”

“Oh, Son, this cannot last forever, this situation. The girl will think that you rejected her. She probably was crying because she thinks you do not want her anymore.”

“I know, but I am afraid to give her pain again and…”

“Have you been with a woman before your marriage?”

“Father!”

“Have you?” Fitzwilliam repeated calmly.

At length Andrew answered but not looking directly at his father “Yes. A few times; when at Cambridge. Together with cousin Bingley we went to… You know. But those women were different. They knew what to do and…”

“I understand. It is partly my fault, I believe. I should have talked to you about this before your wedding. So we are going to talk now.”

He walked to the side table and poured two full glasses of brandy. He returned to Andrew, giving him one.

“First of all, as I have already said, this situation must end, and the sooner the better. You cannot be afraid to touch her. She will think you do not care for her. For the first months after our wedding we did this in every lockable room at Pemberley.”

“Father, do you have to include such details about my own mother? Can you not speak in more general terms?”

“Forgive me, Son. I imagine that I would not wish to hear it about my own parents either.”

“Thank you.” Andrew said, visibly relieved.

“Now Son, tell me. On your wedding night; what did you do? Did you prepare her for you?”

“I removed her nightgown, we talked a little, and then I kissed her and touched her….mhh… bosom and some lower… areas and then I settled myself carefully not to crush her and then …"

The older Darcy shook his head. “No, Andrew, my boy, that was done much too quickly. Women are different. The first time when your mother and I…..”

“Father!”

“ Forgive me Andrew. I have just wanted to say that inexperienced women hardly know their own bodies ... why your mother.., ah yes I forgot, no talk of your mother. Although I do have to say for myself that you would be hard pressed to make a woman as happy as I have made her."

Andrew raised abruptly, speaking in an unnaturally high pitched voice. “I am leaving.”

“No, Andrew, stay! I promise not to mention you mother. I have meant that women need lots of preparation; especially when they are inexperienced. Otherwise it can be rather unpleasant for them.”

“So, it was my fault.” Andrew stated miserably.

“I did not say that. Naturally she was a virgin, so the pain could not be avoided, I believe. But next time you must be more considerate to give her more pleasure.”

“What should I do?”

“You must take time to tenderly caress her. Tell her how much you love her and talk to her softly, reassuring her how beautiful she is. Make her feel relaxed and comfortable. This will cause her to become more excited and aroused to receive you. You must be aware of her feelings and be observant to her reactions as you caress and kiss her. You will have to learn what she likes. And if you see she enjoys something you must do it more. Gently ask her to tell you if she likes what you are doing. As for breasts, touching is not enough. It is advisable to kiss them, even suckle on them; especially the peaks, they are very sensitive. It gives a woman great pleasure. It is up to you to stir up and cause a lady to want you to make love to her more. There is no place on the woman's body that you should not kiss or touch. Do you understand what I mean, Son?

"Yes, Father, I understand you perfectly."

“As long as she is comfortable with this, of course you must never force her; before you enter…well… mhh…, so before you… “ the older Darcy made an awkward gesture, “you should also caress her private parts as well. Women, in general are... uhmm... very different creatures... that is say….well, their bodies will let the man know when they are ready to commence in marital duties.”

“How?”

“Well, there are certain jui... uhmm. The dampness, some wetness should appear there. It means that she is ready. And there is a certain spot… Son, come here, I want to draw you something so that you will know exactly what I mean.” Fitzwilliam drew something quickly on a piece of paper.

Andrew looked at the drawing, frowning in concentration, “Father, what is that? It looks like a snowman.”

“It is a woman!” Fitzwilliam cried indignantly.

“Well, Father, you certainly do not share the drawing talent with Aunt Gina.”

“I do not think my lack of drawing skill is the matter of utmost importance for you at the moment.” Fitzwilliam remarked dryly, ”Look." he pointed, "Here. The lady is very sensitive here. When you touch her there in the right way she will feel much pleasure. There, now you know all.”

“That is all?”

“Well… read this and you will learn more.” He handed him a small, insignificant looking book. “It shows different positions; she may enjoy some of them better. But the most important thing you must do is talk to her. Observe her reactions. Be aware of her body; and do not rush or be in a hurry to satisfy yourself. If you take the time to study this book and all that I have shared with you, then everything between you and your wife will be fine."

"Thank you, Father, for taking the time to explain all this to me."

"You are very welcome, son. I am only sorry that I did not have this talk with you sooner."

Andrew returned to Pemberley hastily and locked himself in the library, announcing he was not to be disturbed. He studied the small book diligently, at the same time thinking about all the things his father told him. He even missed dinner because he was so engrossed in his studies. Andrew had told a servant to tell his wife that he was still busy. He also studied a book on the human anatomy that he found in the library. Andrew wanted to make sure he learned more about that special spot which his father had mentioned. It was nearly midnight when he finished, but he felt well prepared for tonight; smiling inwardly, he contemplated that he had done his research very well indeed. He could not wait to go to his bedchamber and practice all that he had learned with his beloved wife.

***

Meanwhile, Abigail was in utter and complete despair. After such a horrible night of crying, she had awoken with a dreadful headache and all alone in the empty bed. She now felt abandoned. At breakfast, Andrew seemed to not notice her at all. Then later he went away after scarcely speaking to her, only to return in the late afternoon, when he closed himself away from her in the library. He was still in the library late that night and had not come out even to have dinner with her. It seemed perfectly clear he did not care about her anymore; so why did he marry her? He had seemed to want the marriage. Maybe he was too honourable to refuse her father's wish when he was dying. He was clearly disappointed with her. She was not even pregnant, and there was not even the slightest chance she ever would be. In such a situation, he would undoubtedly want to divorce her.

She did not feel welcomed in his bedroom any more. She took one of the pillows (still smelling of him) and went to the adjacent bedroom. It had not been used for at least sixty years because both Andrew's parents and grandparents slept together. The architect who designed Pemberley must have felt that it was necessary that the Master's suite in such a grand house should consist of two bedchambers. This one was to be the Mistress' bedchamber. The bed was still there, and knowing Pemberley's housekeeper, the sheets were certainly clean. I will break the tradition of generations. Abigail thought this as she climbed up into the bed, hugging the pillow close to her as she tried not to cry anymore.

She was not asleep for very long when she felt someone was lifting her out of the bed. “Andrew?” she whispered and instinctively nestled closer to him. But then she remembered that he did not want her anymore. "Leave me alone; put me back in my bed." she demanded.

Andrew froze when he heard her angry voice. He sat with her on his lap at the edge of the bed and asked tenderly “What is wrong, Sweetheart? Why did you come in here to sleep?”

She looked at him and burst out in tears, crying like a little girl “You do not love me… booo… You want to divorce me… because,“ she hiccupped, “because I disappointed you, and booo.. you married me only because my father was dying and you felt bound by…booo… by,” she choked ”honour… Do not laugh at me you big oaf! I was right about you from the very start! You are mean, and rude and overbearing and …” her words were silenced with a very deep and passionate kiss. The Mistress' bedroom was thoroughly used that night for the first time in the last sixty years.

***

Over an hour later, Abigail lay sprawled on top of her husband, her heart still beating wildly, her hair in a tangled, damp mass, covering them both.

“Oh, Andrew…” she mumbled into his chest.

“Was it that good?” he chuckled.

“Indeed, my love, very much…"

He kissed the top of her head, “I am very happy to know this."

Abigail braced herself up on her elbows leaning against his chest, “Where did you learn to do all this?”

“I asked my father.”

Abigail's eyes widened in disbelief, “And he told you about all of that?” He nodded. “Your mother is a very lucky woman! I am surprised there are only four of you.”

“Abby, can you please not to refer to my parents in such a way; it embarrasses me to think of them this way!"

“Oh, I am sorry, my love! But you made me feel so wonderful. I really should thank your father!"

“Abby! Please… no!” Andrew cried in outrage afraid she would do just that.

She kissed his chest lightly, “I was just teasing you; but Andrew, it was so good what you did to me, like in heaven… I am so grateful that he gave you that lesson.”

***

“Andrew? Is everything better now?"

“Yes, Father. Thank you for your explanations. Everything went very well I dare say.”

“Yes? And your wife…”

“She says to be very grateful for your… instructions.”

“She does?!”

“Oh, yes. She was very enthusiastic about my… my performance.”

“I am glad Son! Very glad, indeed!"




Chapter Eleven



Abigail woke up and felt instantly that something was different this morning. Andrew was buried under the numerous blankets next to her, and only his curly hair and big feet were visible. The room looked brighter somehow, as if it was full of energy. She jumped out of bed, only to return quickly as she had forgotten her nakedness until the chill hit her skin, and crawled back under the covers. She found her nightgown at the foot of the bed and put it on hastily. Then she wrapped herself in one of the blankets and rushed to the window. Snow! It had snowed during the night!

She ran back to the bed and shook her husband's form “Andrew, Andrew. Wake up! Snow! There is snow. Everything is white. Let us get dressed and go to see it.”

“Ugh… No!” came a hoarse reply from under the covers.

“Andrew…” she shook him once again but there was no reaction.

“I will go by myself!” she exclaimed.

“Oh no, you are not going anywhere.” He said emerging unexpectedly from his bundle and grabbing her middle only to swiftly pin her under him.

“No, Andrew. No! I want to see the snow!” she cried struggling against him when she felt his hand going under her gown.

“The snow will not disappear. I can assure you.” he murmured calmly nibbling at her neck.

“But I want to go and see it now.” she pouted.

He rolled on his back with a heavy sigh. “Get dressed.”

“Thank you!“ She squeaked with delight, jumping on top of him.

Less than an hour later, they were in the great hall and Andrew was checking if she was bundled up warmly enough. Back in London, he had insisted on her ordering several woolen dresses and fur lined coats, hats and gloves. They proved to be very necessary, because, though the Christmas was without snow at Pemberley, to Abigail's great disappointed to say the least, it was still very cold indeed. The new Mistress was accustomed to a much milder climate. Pemberley, in its present state, had been built well over a hundred years ago, more to make an impression than for comfort. The rooms on the second floor were very warm enough, but the official downstairs rooms were so spacious and high, that even with the fire in the mantelpiece kept all the time, for Abigail especially, they were just cold.

Andrew was constantly worrying himself that she was freezing. He checked every half hour whether her small upturned nose and her hands were warm, but they were most often icy cold. He was afraid she would catch a serious cold, though she tried to assure him that she rarely got ill.

Abigail had never seen a real snow. True it snowed a few times when she was in France, but it looked so dirty and unappealing. It was hard to say whether it was a real snow rather than a cold rain; not to mention that it melted almost instantly. But what she saw this morning was vastly different, the whole Pemberley grounds were covered with white fluffy down.

Andrew put the last touches on the scarf around her neck, at last declaring her to be bundled up warm enough. Next, he took her hand and they soon were outdoors. The sky was clear, the air crisp and the winter sunshine almost blinded her by the whiteness.

“It is wonderful. So beautiful; like in dream.” she exclaimed.

He just smiled at her and hugged her to him from behind. She freed herself from his embrace and walked away from him a few yards, only to turn back to him unexpectedly and hit him with a snow ball straight in his face. He looked at her and she looked at him. She knew what was to come in a moment. She squeaked and started to run. She did not manage ten yards before she felt herself caught by the waist. They both tumbled down the snow covered sloping lawn. They were both panting, breathing hard and laughing, Andrew lying on top of her, but braced on his arms, always careful not to crush her with his weight.

“Have you had enough?”

“No!” she cried, laughing.

“No?” he said lowering slightly on her.

She shook her head. The next thing she felt was his hot breath on her neck and then on her lips. They kissed for some time when he eventually rolled her on top of him so that she was straddling him.

“We could visit your parents and have breakfast with them.' Abby said, combing the disobedient curls away from his forehead.

“You think they would not mind?”

“Of course not! You mother always says we do not visit them often enough.”

They were approaching the house when Mrs. Darcy ran out of it covered only with a light woolen shawl.

“What happened to you both?” she cried, taking at their rumpled state.

“We decided to take a morning walk, and then Abby suggested we could visit you and…”

“Andrew, are you out of your mind? Just look at her. She is wet all over. She is not one of your brothers!”

The worried expression appeared instantly on Andrew's face “God Good. I haven't thought…”

“No, you certainly have not!” Elizabeth cried exasperatedly, taking Abigail's the arm, “Come my dear, we have to remove those wet things from you.”

Half an hour later, Abby was sitting in the guest bedroom, drowned in one of her mother-in-law's dressing gowns. Her clothes proved to be wet indeed, and a servant had to be sent to Pemberley house to bring fresh clothes. Andrew was kneeling by her side, rubbing her cold feet diligently.

“Abby, I am so sorry. It was unforgivable ..”

“Andrew, I am quite well. I will not get sick. Besides this is as much my own fault, since I provoked and teased you in the first place."

“But still, I should be more careful with you.”

“But you are. Always.” she leaned and kissed his cheek.

* * *

The winter proved to be long in Derbryshire. The last snow disappeared in early April. Abigail was immensely happy with her new life. True, she was sad from time to time because of Papa. Every time she remembered him, she thought how happy he would have been seeing her with such a worthy man as Andrew, and tears came to her eyes. But in such moments there was always her husband to kiss her eyes and hug her to him. Mrs. Darcy truly befriended her, and on her insistence was now calling her Elizabeth when in private. Andrew's mother was most supportive in adjusting to her new role as the Mistress of Pemberley. Abigail could not have wished for a better mother-in-law. As for Mr. Darcy senior, she was still a bit unsure in his presence. She knew her feelings were unreasonable, and she should not feel intimidated by him, but still she could not conquer a slight awkwardness when in his company. She was sure though, that he liked her, as he always referred to her as `my dear' and patted her hand from time to time.

The only shadow in her happiness was the fact that, though married little over six months, she was still not with child. Her courses came regularly to the day every month and she could only weep a little every time when the bleeding began. Andrew, of course, had to notice, and came to be very angry with her weeping. He said there was nothing to worry about and they would have surely children in the future. She should not invent herself nonexistinent problems, worrying herself over something neither had control of at all. She just nodded into his chest and started to cry even more. He was so good to her! Her husband just sighed, gathered her into his arms and sat in the armchair with her on his lap. When she finally stopped crying, he raised her puffy face to him (she knew very well what a fright she was when she cried, all her freckles turned out to be even more visible; a ghostly white face with dark red marks and even redder nose) and said firmly “I do not want to hear that nonsense any more. Understood? I do not wish to see you crying over this ever again.”

A small hope appeared in May when her monthly courses did not come on time. She waited a week, two weeks and three, but still there was no bleeding. She lectured herself that she should not be so happy too soon, but she could not contain her joy. Then the news came from London that the family's solicitor was killed unexpectedly in a carriage accident. Andrew had to go to London to see to his affairs and find a new attorney. He was very unwilling to go when Abby was probably early with child, but there was no other option. Abigail could not go with him, as she typically would have, because they expected guests; Jacob with his family, Lord and Lady Walsingham with their sons, and Jane, returning from school; not to mention that he would be afraid to travel with her in a delicate state.

Abigail was very happy to see all of them, especially the Walsinghams, but the summer was hot and she was not feeling very well. She was constantly dizzy, sleepy and tired which only seemed to prove her suspicions. On the other hand, she was determined to be a good hostess, so the guests would feel comfortable and welcome.

To her great mortification, one afternoon when the ladies were having an afternoon tea, she felt so ill at the smell of the freshly made coffee that Elizabeth always preferred instead of tea, that she vomited, she was pretty sure everything that she had eaten since the breakfast. She did not even manage to the make the water closet, and everything ended on the creamy carpet bought by Andrew's grandmother Lady Anne. She was so ashamed of her behaviour, but the other women were most comforting. Rebecca ran for the servant to clean the mess and Lady Walsingham and Elizabeth helped her to sit back on the sofa and gave her some water. She was instantly comforted that nothing horrible had happened and that it was quite natural in her state and that the nausea should pass in a month or two.

Since that afternoon, she felt that everyone's attitude towards her was immediately changed. Abigail was pretty sure that her mother-in-law had quite the talk with the servants, as all her wishes were fulfilled in a second. No one commented when she now and then ran out of the room without preamble; or when she fell asleep during the service on Sunday. To her great surprise, Mr. Darcy, on seeing her the second day after that horrible incident in the parlour, smiled at her openly, showing off his dimples (clearly another common trace with his sons) hugged her to him and kissed her hand. It was the best proof that though the family did not comment on it, everyone knew about her condition. It was only left to inform her husband when he would come back.

***

Andrew Darcy was riding his horse hard, wishing to reach Pemberley as soon as possible. His stay in London lingered more than a month and he was angry that he had stayed away from Abby so long, but it truly could not have been helped. In the last letter he received from her, just a day before his departure, she wrote that she missed her courses this month as well, but was feeling well overall.

He did not even refresh himself after the journey, but went straight to look for his wife. He found her with the whole family in the drawing room. After a warm, albeit strange, reception from the family -- his brother was smiling somehow strangely at him, and his father even smacked his back - he was quickly left alone with Abigail. She kissed and hugged him, despite his protest that he was all dirty and sweaty from the journey. He looked deeply into her eyes and she just nodded smilingly. He hugged her to him, her feet dangling in the air.

She took his hand, leading him upstairs to their rooms and ordered his bath. Then she washed his back and rinsed his hair by herself. They ate a quiet dinner together in their private sitting room. Soon Andrew took her to bed and started getting reacquainted with her precious petite body that he hadn't seen or touched for over a month. It struck him that she felt somehow different now. He untied her gown at her chest and cupped her breast. She was bigger. He could not completely wrap her pretty breast in his large hand as before. He removed his hand from her chest and draw he nightgown to her waist to look more closely at her bosom. They were definitely fuller, and her once pink nipples were larger, more puckered and darker.

“You have changed.” he said softly, brushing lightly her breasts with the back of his hand. He raised his eyes to hers “You are feeling well?”

“Yes, well I am tired, sleepy and feel sick quite often, especially in the mornings. I became pretty sure of my state when I was having tea with your mother, aunt, sister and Rebecca. I threw up on the creamy Persian carpet your grandmother had bought. I was so embarrassed.”

“My poor thing.” He lowered her gown even more to inspect her belly, then he put his head to it.

She giggled “Andrew there is nothing there yet to see or hear. You have to wait a few months.”

“When is it going to be born?”

“I think mid or late February. It had to have happened May 5th, I believe.”

“How do you know?” he asked clearly dumbfounded.

“Well, I had my courses at the end of April, and then you remember you went to cousin Bingley for a week to help him with that fraud in his estate books, and I stayed to help your mother with preparations for the charity fair at the church. And you remember when you came back we did it three times in one night. It had to be then.”

Andrew lowered his lips to her neck, nibbling it gently. “I do remember.” he whispered, his hand wandering low on her stomach, drawing gentle circles there. “Do you think it would be safe now…”

Abigail gasped feeling his hand darting between her legs “Yes.” she quivered unsteadily.

“You are sure?” his hand was drawing patterns on the inner side of her thigh.

“Ah…” she whimpered, “Yes. I asked Rebecca. We must be careful, but it is safe.”

“Good.” he grunted and the very next moment her was one top of her.



Chapter 12





Andrew rubbed his tired eyes and walked from the desk in his study to the window. It was the late October, and the autumn in Derbryshire was a vibrant display of wondrous colour. He saw Abby strolling down the lawn. He frowned. She should not walk alone so far in her state. He would have to find some time to accompany her on her walks or at least arrange for his mother to walk with her. He knew that he could not forbid her walking. The doctor said that exercise was good in her condition; but still, something could happen when she was alone. He looked at her with a smile. Her pace was considerably slower due to the clearly visible bulge of their baby. She was well into her sixth month now, and the doctor said that the child was much bigger than the average at this stage of pregnancy. Abby laughed that it was because the child's father was so tall. The doctor even suggested twins.

Andrew was worried about the child's size. He wished it did not grow too much. He knew that he and his siblings were all born rather large, especially Richard. He was barely six then, but he clearly remembered that there had been some problems when his youngest brother was born. There was such a gloomy atmosphere in the house. His father did not speak with them at all and his mother did not leave the bed for weeks after his birth. He and Jacob were not permitted to see her for a long time and Aunt Gina took care of them. Andrew was now pretty sure that his father had been too frightened after Richard's birth, and it was the reason his parents had no children for so long after him. Andrew did not believe that his father stopped sharing mother's bed, but they must have been taking some precautions. Jane had to have been just a pleasant, but definitely unplanned, accident.

Though his mother was not much taller than Abby, her build was undoubtedly more sturdy. He was terrified to think what could happen if their baby turned out to be too big. Abby was so delicate. He remembered only too well the morning after they had made love in the Mistress' bedchamber, he saw bruises on her hips; marks that he had made. She dismissed his concern, saying she always bruised easily and that it did not hurt at all. Her hips were as slim as the rest of her. Even now she did not gained much weight. She had that adorable belly, and her breasts were swollen, but from the back, she looked virtually unchanged. He also remembered, only too well, that Abigail's mother died in childbirth. Her portrait as a young girl, hung in their private sitting room. Abby had brought it from Cornwall, and he was sure that Abby looked very much like her. The knock at the door drew him from his thoughts. It was Abby.

“May I come in?”

“Of course.”

She came close to him, taking one of his hands and cupping his cheek. “What is the matter, my love? I saw you when I was returning from my walk. You looked so worried, standing in the window.”

“I was just thinking.”

Abigail knew from the experience that he would not tell her while in this state. She took one of his hands and brought him to the sofa with her, putting his hand on her belly. “Feel. The baby has been very active today.”

Andrew placed his hand obediently on the bulge.

“It is getting heavy and it is getting harder to walk with it.” she said happily. The very next moment she felt him hugging her tightly to him. “Andrew, what is wrong?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head, “I am just tired.”

She stroked his cheek and he leaned into her hand “You are working too hard. Finish earlier today so we can spend the evening together; just the two of us. I would read to you or play for you; or maybe you could play some billiards and I would watch. Come. Leave those papers for today.” she said, getting up, taking his hand, and guiding him out of the room.

* * *

Christmas was a quiet affair at Pemberley for once. Jacob did not come, as Rebecca was with child again, and he was afraid to travel with her. Jane stayed in France, as she was invited by one of her friends to stay with her family. However, Richard came unexpectedly, to his parents delight. There was no white Christmas, but just before the New Year, in just one day, so much snow fell, that the Pemberley was practically cut off from the world. Andrew praised God that it was not closer to the end of Abby's pregnancy. He decided that just after the New Year, he would bring the midwife and the doctor from Lambton, so they would live with them at Pemberley until Abby's time came.

Abigail was big indeed, but fortunately the child seemed to stop growing for a while. For the last month she was more nervous and moody than ever before. The child was very active, and she could not sleep at night. Andrew knew that she was always very emotional, but lately she was crying often, and without any rational reason. She terrified him once when she woke him in the middle of the night, crying that she had a dream where she died in childbirth. She begged him to take her to Cornwall the very next day because she wanted to see her parents' graves and her family home one last time.

It snowed steadily till Twelfth Night. It was nearly impossible to get as far as Lambton. Even Andrew's parents had problems with visiting them. Andrew woke early on the morning of the 7th of January and felt the bed was wet. Abby was moaning and panting harshly next to him. He immediately felt panicked. It was too soon, at least a month too soon. And getting a midwife now, with Pemberley cut off from the world, was nearly impossible. Abby was moaning, her eyes frightened, tears flowing forth.

“Andrew, it has started. The waters broke. It is too soon. The child is too small. It won't survive. It is like in a dream. The child cannot die. Please tell me, it will not die…”

He did his best to comfort her, but he was terrified himself. Then he remembered! Richard was a doctor! He was a surgeon, but still he had to have delivered some babies. Surely he must have; or at least he would know what to do.

Andrew ran to his brother's chambers, banging at the door. A disheveled Richard emerged, clearly displeased to be awakened so early; but one look at his elder brother mumbling incoherently that it had started, set him right straight away.

Richard was dressed ten minutes later and entered the Master bedchamber.

“Good morning, soon-to-be-Mummy. I hear that a certain Darcy is in a hurry to enter this world.” he said cheerfully.

Abigail grabbed his hand “Oh, Richard! It is too soon! The child is too small!”

Richard squeezed her hand gently and said calmly “Easy, my dear. True, it is a bit soon. The baby should wait a few weeks more, but he or she is big enough to live on his own now. A very determined child, I would say.” He smiled reassuringly at her, and without preamble raised her nightgown, and spread her legs. He touched her stomach thoughtfully with both hands. “The child is in good position. Everything is going to be all right.”

“Truly Richard?” two pairs of frightened eyes searched his face.

“Of course, my favourite sister-in-law. The baby is very strong. It has been very active during the whole confinement, has it not?”

She nodded. “Yes, especially in the last few weeks.”

“That is very good. I would be worried if it had not been moving.”

Abby momentary calmed down and even smiled a little. Richard patted her hand. “I am afraid it will last for some time yet. You should take a bath. It will help you relax and maybe later you could try some tea.”

“Everything you say, Richard.”

“I must leave you now as I must get my instruments. Your maid shall stay with you. I must also talk some with your husband.” Richard smiled at her again.

When the brothers were outside the room in the corridor Richard said in a grim voice. “Send someone to Lambton to bring a midwife, wet nurse and doctor Trenton as soon as can be. Bring mother as well. She will need a woman by her side.”

“But Richard, you just said it is going to be all right.”

“And what do you think I should say to her! That she is right, it is too soon.” the younger Darcy said sharply.

Andrew went instantly pale “But you said…”

“If you cannot control yourself, it is better for her to be without you now.”

“No, I will manage.”

“If you start to panic I will lock you somewhere.”

“I understand.”

“Go now to her; and for once in your life, try to pretend everything is all right.”

Andrew stopped for a while in front of the door to calm himself before he entered. Abby was sitting on the edge of the bed while her maid put her slippers on her feet.

“I will do that. Go and see to your Mistress' bath.”

When the maid left, Abby grabbed his hand. “What did Richard tell you? Something is going wrong, is it not?”

“No, sweetheart. Everything is going very well. He has just scolded me. He said I should be whipped because I panicked and frightened you unnecessarily.”

She stroked his cheek. “You should not be so hard on yourself. It is your first time, after all.”

“I know, dearest, I know. I will carry you now to the bath, then I shall leave you for a very short time.”

“But I want you to stay with me to the very end.”

“Yes, I know, and I will, but I have to send somebody to bring a wet nurse.”

“Wet nurse. What for? I will nurse the baby on my own.”

“Yes, dear, but Richard says that because it is a little too soon, your body may be not ready yet to produce enough milk.”

“Oh, I understand. Andrew, are you not excited? Maybe the child is going to be with us yet today.”

“I am very happy, my love.” He smiled back at her. Now we will go to the bathroom. Off we go.” He said, lifting her.

***
True to his word, Andrew stayed with her the whole time. He could barely look as she cringed in pain. There was a moment when he just wanted to run away and not look at her suffering. There was so much blood. Close to evening, the weak cry was heard, which in seconds grew only stronger. It was a boy! Richard put the squeaking infant into his arms, still covered with blood. He turned to show it to Abby, but her eyes were closed, her head thrown back and she was not answering and not moving. He quickly put the baby into his mother's arms and rushed to her side. He cradled her head, talking to her, but she did not react. He started to shake her, nearly shouting at her, ordering her to answer him. Then he felt himself being pulled from the back by his brother, who practically threw him out of the room. The door was locked. He banged and yelled for them to let him in, but soon his father ordered two men servants to take him away. They locked him in one of the spare rooms down the corridor. He did not know how long he sat there. It was an eternity. At last the door opened and his brother's tired face appeared.

He had to ask the question “Is she?”

“No. She is asleep. She just lost consciousness; but she lost a lot of blood. Too much. She is very weak.”

“But she...”

“If the fever does not appear, she should be all right.”

“Thank God. Thank you, Richard; without you…” the tears ran down his cheeks.

Richard hugged his elder brother “Andrew, cry if you must. She will be probably very weak for the next days, weeks, even months, but she should be all right. The boy is strong and healthy. He looks very much like you; a true Darcy. But Andrew, she may not survive the next time. Do you hear me? She should be able to be with child again, but I think it is too risky for her”

Andrew raised his head from his brother's shoulder and said “There will be no next time.”


***

Abigail mostly slept the next few days, but fortunately the fever did not appear. Andrew sat dutifully by her bed those days, thanking God that she had survived. Every time she woke up, she wanted to see the baby and hold him. Andrew was happy with his son, but he knew very well that there would be no life for him without her.

The baby was strong and loud and hungry all the time. Abby wanted to nurse him on her own, but she did not have enough milk to satisfy him. Fortunately, the wet nurse was found quickly, so the child was not undernourished. Abigail beamed every time she looked at him. One time, when he was a week old, she was sitting in bed, her back supported on numerous pillows, baby in her arms.

“Oh, Andrew, he is truly perfect, is he not?” she cooed over the baby. “And quite big, I dare say, even if he was born too soon. He will look exactly like you, I am sure.” She looked thoughtfully at her husband, sitting beside her. “Andrew, you are so quiet. Are you not pleased with your son?”

“I am, love, I am. He is wonderful but… I cannot stop thinking I nearly lost you.” he croaked.

“Andrew, I am fine. Everything is well. It is behind us, and we have the baby.”

He kissed her hand which supported baby to her chest. “I know, love, I know.” he said unsteadily, fighting back tears.

“Andrew.”

“It is all right.” He smiled, his voice trembling.

“Andrew, please put him into his crib.” He looked at her for a moment and then carefully took the baby from her, before putting him into his white crib.

“Come here.” She took his hand and drew him to her. “Lay down next to me.” He carefully arranged himself next to her, mindful not to cause her pain.

She hugged him to her and kissed his forehead. “Andrew it is behind us. I am here, and I am not going anywhere. I am feeling better and stronger every day, and we are going to be very happy together; you, me and the baby. Do you hear me?” He just nodded into her neck that was now wet from his tears.

It took at least two months until she could feel as her own self. As soon as she was able, she started to take care of the baby by herself. Andrew was worried she would get too tired, but she seemed to take the strength from the boy. They decided to name him after Abigail's father, Frederick.




Epilogue


There was a knock at the study door.

“Enter.”

“May we interrupt for a while?” Andrew raised his head from the letter he was reading to see his wife and son standing in the doorway. He put the letter aside, smiled widely and rushed to them.

He took the baby from Abigail and kissed her temple tenderly. “Abby, love, you should not carry him so often. He is getting too heavy.”

“Mummy's boy is not too heavy, is he? He is just growing. He will be someday be as big and strong as his father.”

Andrew frowned, “Abby, I am speaking seriously. I know that your arms ache from carrying him all around.”

“Andrew, I am truly all right. Your mother says he is going to walk any day.”

“So, I perceive hard days are coming for us. He grabs and pulls everything he can reach; and when he starts moving on his own, it is going to be even worse.”

“Andrew, he is just curious about his world. From the very beginning he was very active.”

“Yes, I remember. You could not get one good night's sleep when you were carrying him.” Andrew said, sitting behind the desk with his son in his lap. The boy was instantly interested in everything suddenly within his reach.

“Andrew, I was thinking…”

“Yes, my dear?” The baby was now occupied with his favourite plaything of late, his father's pocket watch.

“Have you noticed that everyone adores him and dotes on him so much; your parents especially. They say it is because he is their only grandson they can see daily. Are you not afraid he is going to be impossibly spoilt?”

“He certainly will be, especially if you are going to carry him all the time and be at his beck and call every night.”

“Oh Andrew, I just cannot bear when he is crying so pitifully during the night.”

“He is crying because he knows you are ready to rush to him and carry him half the night.”

“I know you are right, but it is so hard to leave him alone.”

“I know, my dear, but it is for his own good. He must learn now that he cannot rule us.”

“You are right, I presume.” Darcy looked at his wife suspiciously. He was agreeing with him too much for his taste. “You know, Andrew, I think that if he had a brother or sister he would learn that…”

Andrew stood up abruptly and handed her the baby, almost roughly. He walked to the window.

“Andrew…”

“Abigail, I will say it only one time. There will be no other children.”

“But a child should not be alone. You have told me so many stories how you and your brothers played here when you were boys. Do you want him to be all alone in this big house?”

“First of all, the child needs both parents.”

“Andrew…”

“Do you want to know what Richard said to me on the day he was born? He said that you may not survive the next time. Do you understand? You may die!”

“I am ready to take the risk.”

“But I am not. Do you not understand I cannot exist without you? I would go mad. Why do you want to do this to me? Don't you care?”

“Andrew, of course I care, yet..”

“Your mother died when she gave birth to your brother. Have you forgotten about that?”

“No.” she said, resigned, hiding her face in the child's chubby neck.

“You said once yourself, your father was never the same after her death. Do you want that for me?”

“No.” she whispered defeated.

He came close to her and embraced her, the baby between them. “Abby. Our son is not going to have siblings, but it is not the end of the world. He has parents and grandparents who love him more than their own lives. He is strong and healthy, surely wise and intelligent. He will never have to worry about money. Is that not enough? There are worse misfortunes in life than not having brothers and sisters. He will not be spoilt, I promise you. I will see to it. We will arrange for him to spend as much time as possible with his cousins.”

Abigail placed her head on his shoulder and sighed softly “I know you are right, Andrew. We have so much for which to be thankful.”

He kissed her forehead. “Exactly, my dear.”

“Andrew, you surely wanted to have a big family with many children and I.., maybe you should marry someone who would be able to give you more children.”

“Abigail, if you knew how it hurts me when you speak such things you would never do it. I wanted to marry for love like my father; and I am grateful to God I found you. You are everything I ever wanted in a woman; and so much more. Please have pity on me, and never say such things.”

“I will not, Andrew. I love you.” She murmured into his chest.

Andrew Darcy sighed and embraced his wife and a son, all three of them standing for a long time close together.




The End

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