Abigail Reynolds - To Conquer Mr. Darcy

Darcy looked at her blankly for a moment, then reluctantly surrendered the infant to Mrs. Reynolds, who tucked him into Elizabeth’s arms. He kissed Elizabeth’s cheek lightly, then whispered in her ear, “Thank you, my love.” She looked up at him, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Out, Master William!” Mrs. Reynolds demanded, and with a roll of his eyes, he obeyed. She looked over at Elizabeth, and said authoritatively, “I told you he would be trouble.”

“You did indeed, Mrs. Reynolds!” Elizabeth agreed with a laugh before her son engaged her every thought once again.

Elizabeth was asleep by the time Darcy was permitted to return to her. The completion of the delivery, the cleansing and the first lessons from Mrs. Fletcher on putting the babe to her breast had taken the last of her energy, and she had drifted off despite a new appreciation of how uncomfortable certain portions of her would be for the next few days.

Darcy slipped into the room quietly so as not to disturb her. It was twilight, and he found the picture of his wife and son asleep together in the gathering darkness immensely appealing. He stood and watched them for several minutes before giving into temptation and gently easing the bundle out of Elizabeth’s arms. The baby stirred for a moment, and Darcy froze, but then he slipped back into a deep sleep.

Darcy settled himself in an armchair beside the bed, gently cradling the baby in his arms. He traced the tiny features with his eyes and allowed himself to lightly touch the soft baby hair. He could hardly allow the reality of the moment, but the pleasure it gave him to hold his son could not be denied. He was still gazing raptly at him some time later when Elizabeth awoke.

Their eyes met and held, a silent message flowing between them. Finally Darcy said, “I had not realized that he would be quite so small.”

Elizabeth smiled warmly. “He will grow faster than you think. He has the look of you about him, I think.”

“Do you? I cannot see it; he looks exactly like himself. How are you, my love?”

“Well enough; I have no complaints. But we must think about a name for that young man, William.”

“Richard,” he said, looking down at the baby, and despite his extraordinarily gentle tone it was clear that he was making a statement rather than a suggestion.

“Am I not to be consulted on this?” Elizabeth teased. Richard had, in fact, been on the list of names she had considered, but she saw no reason to give in to him quite so quickly.

He smiled at her with mild embarrassment. “Only if you agree with me, but he really must be Richard, you see.”

“And why, pray tell, must he be named Richard?”

“Well, mostly because if it were not for Colonel Fitzwilliam, he would never have been born.”

She raised an eyebrow. “William, I have the greatest respect for your cousin, but I fail to see what he has to do with Ri… with our baby’s birth.”

She could see even in the growing darkness that his cheeks flushed. “It is because of something I never told you, my love. Do you recall when I returned to Hertfordshire to court you?”

“Of course.”

“The truth is that it was not my idea. I had already given up on you, and decided I did not deserve you. I never expected to see you again, then Richard came along and browbeat me into trying one more time, else I should have spent the rest of my life regretting you.”

She gazed at him tenderly, touched by his disclosure. “Very well, I suppose that is an acceptable reason. Richard it shall be.” The subject of their discussion opened his eyes, stirred by the sound of their voices. She held out her arms for him, and Darcy somewhat reluctantly surrendered the infant. Smiling down at her baby, she tried to persuade him to nurse, with eventual success. “Mrs. Fletcher assures me that this will become easier with time,” she said ruefully to William, who was watching the process with fascination.

“Will you have the nurse take him for the night?”

She considered the matter. “I think I shall. She can always bring him to me if he needs me, and I certainly need the rest. I would like to be able to enjoy our son tomorrow beyond merely falling asleep with him!”

“I assume I should stay in my own room tonight,” Darcy said tentatively.

Elizabeth looked up at him. “I had hoped that you would stay with me. It would comfort me to sleep in your arms.”

Darcy’s happiness at this response was apparent. “It would be my pleasure, my love. You may be certain that I would prefer not to let you out of my sight! But you must first have a little supper, to keep up your strength.”

“William,” she said indulgently, “the baby has been born, and you do not need to watch over me so closely any longer.”

“I enjoy taking care of you, Elizabeth. And remember, you need to keep your strength up for tomorrow, too.”

“Well, then, I suppose that I must have my supper,” she said with resigned amusement. She noted that he was watching young Richard with the intensity he usually reserved for her, and it warmed her heart to see how quickly he was becoming attached to their child.

After Elizabeth had eaten what he considered to be an adequate amount, Darcy announced that she could go to sleep whenever she wished. She felt a pang when the nurse took the baby, but was reassured in the comfort of Darcy’s embrace. He kissed her chastely on the forehead before bidding her good night, treasuring the opportunity to hold her in his arms, and grateful beyond words that all his fears had proved unwarranted.

“By the way, William,” she said drowsily as she was about to drift off to sleep, her head resting on his shoulder, “I find it hard to believe that you could be browbeaten into doing something you did not already want to do.”

“Most likely not, my love. Now go to sleep; we have a great many tomorrows still ahead of us.” He kissed her gently, reflecting back on those weeks in Hertfordshire when he had so desperately sought her affections, and felt a thankfulness beyond his ability to express that she had rewarded him with the gift of her love. He would be ever sensible of the warmest gratitude towards his cousin who, by convincing him to risk offering her his heart once more, had been the means of uniting them. 

My first words of gratitude must be to Jane Austen for providing years of reading pleasure and creating characters who are as alive now as they were two hundred years ago. Lovers of Pride and Prejudice will recognize quotes and phrases from the original scattered throughout the text of this book in homage to the original writer, whose skills were far beyond mine.

This book would never have been written without the encouragement of the Austen lovers at Austen Interlude and Hyacinth Gardens, who provided inspiration and kept me on track. My writing support group—Dor, Elaine, Ellen W., Heather Lynn, and Sylvie—read the earliest drafts and offered crucial feedback. Alison provided invaluable historical information and opened my mind about Regency period manners and morals. Ellen Pickels provided technical support and proofread with a fine-toothed comb. David, Brian, Rebecca, and Amanda held down the fort at home and put up with my endless hours on the computer. Thanks to all of you! 

Abigail Reynolds is a lifelong Jane Austen enthusiast and a physician. In addition to writing, she has a part-time private practice and enjoys spending time with her family. Originally from upstate New York, she studied Russian, theater, and marine biology before deciding to attend medical school. She began writing Pride and Prejudice Variations in 2001 to spend more time with her favorite Jane Austen characters. Encouragement from fellow Austen fans convinced her to continue asking “What if…?” which led to four other Pride and Prejudice Variations and her contemporary novel, The Man Who Loved Pride and Prejudice. She is currently at work on another Variation and a contemporary sequel. She lives in Wisconsin with her husband, two teenage children, and a menagerie of pets.