Her Voice of Reason Page 16

  “I am well,” Elizabeth assured with a wide smile. “Do you wish to hold her?”

  With more grace than she expected him to possess, Darcy picked up the bundle, securely holding it to his chest. “She looks just like Georgiana when she was born. Little Anne. Miss Anne Frances Darcy.”

  A long time ago they had agreed that their child would be named after their parents, Thomas George for a boy and Anne Frances for a girl.

  “She is beautiful,” he whispered, devouring the child with his eyes. He already loved the little girl.

  “Are you not disappointed that she is not a boy?”

  “Shush, never say such a thing. She may hear you.”

  Elizabeth could not stop smiling. She had a feeling that she was not the most important woman in her husband’s life any more.

  Five years later

  “Papa! Papa!”

  Darcy heard the demanding little voice carrying from the corridor. Soon the door was pushed open and a little girl ran into the library.

  “Papa!” the child cried, her voice rising in volume and intensity with every step of her skinny legs.

  Darcy outstretched his arms, waiting for his daughter to climb onto his lap. “You promised not to raise your voice, especially inside the house,” he reminded her gently, stroking long pale blonde curls.

  “Forgive me, Papa,” Anne answered, staring at him with large blue eyes. At five years old she was already tall and thin, having Darcy’s posture. Even though she was the spitting image of her aunt Georgiana as well as her grandmother and namesake Lady Anne, her personality was her mother’s. She enjoyed the outdoors. She was most unhappy when she had to stay inside the house on rainy days.

  “Anne, here you are,” said Georgiana on entering the room, with the nanny following her close by. “I asked you not to interrupt your father and stay by my side. I explained to you that he has important letters to write.”

  Darcy looked up at his sister. Georgiana grew up into a very handsome young woman. Her face matured, losing entirely her childish features. In her arms she held a baby boy with dark eyes and head full of curly black hair. He was chewing on the skin of a dark bread, his face stricken with tears. A toddling girl was attached firmly to her skirt. She had a halo of pale blond curls, but her eyes were dark brown like her brother’s.

  Darcy gave his eldest daughter a serious look. “Did you run away from your Aunt and nanny?”

  Anne covered her eyes with her hands, but peeked at him from behind her fingers. “I wished to see you, Papa.”

  Darcy sighed. He found it very difficult to discipline his daughters, especially Anne, who was so much like her mother, only with Georgiana’s looks. He forced himself to be strict with her. He would never wish for her to share the faith of her aunt, Lydia Wickham.

  Decidedly he pushed Anne off his lap, making her stand beside his chair. “You are a clever girl, Anne. You know that your Mama is away, visiting Aunt Jane, who is ill. I asked you this morning to listen to nanny and Aunt Georgiana, to help with Janie and Thomas. And what did you do?”

  “I am sorry, Papa,” the child said, honest remorse coming onto her face.

  “You will go to the chair by the window and sit there quietly as long as I tell you.” Sitting in one place and not speaking to anyone was the worst possible punishment for Miss Anne Frances Darcy.

  “But Papa,” she began to protest, pouting, but Darcy was firm.

  “Go now,” he said.

  Anne lowered her head but walked away obediently, sitting on the appointed chair.

  Darcy stood up, walked to his sister, taking his son from her arms.

  “Is he better?” he asked, touching the boy’s lower gums, feeling a sharp new tooth under his finger.

  “He does not cry when he chews on bread.”

  Darcy raised the boy higher in his arms. “Chewing must bring him relief. I hope Mrs. Darcy will return soon.” Elizabeth was very much involved in her children’s upbringing. On rare occasions when she was gone she was missed dearly by the little ones. “The newest Bingley should have already been born. I swear that this child will be as slow as his father sometimes can be,” he murmured.

  Darcy was resigned that he would not be able to have much work done today. His children needed him, and it was not Georgiana’s responsibility to devote her time to look after them even though she was always most willing to help.

  He looked down. Little Jane’s pudgy arms wrapped around his leg and she was looking up at him with her dark stare. He put his hand on her curly head, stroking it. His sweet little Jane. Her birth had been very difficult, and for a few long hours he thought that he would lose not only her but Elizabeth as well. Though her arrival in this world had been troubled, Jane was the gentlest out of all his children. She rarely cried out, and she liked to sit quietly, snuggled against someone while her brother crawled busily and her sister was running around.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the warmth of his son pressed against his side and the soft hair of his daughter under his hand. Despite daily troubles and challenges of raising a young family as well as having a beautiful sister of marriageable age who drew to Pemberley all kinds of suitors, not always the most eligible ones, his life was nearly perfect. He was the happiest he had ever been. His mother-in-law visited them only once a year and only for a few weeks at a time, thus his existence could be called nearly perfect. Mrs. Bennet had her very own comfortable house near Meryton, which Darcy had bought for her together with Bingley after their father-in-law’s untimely death, but she chose to spend little time there. She much preferred to take turns visiting all her five daughters, who happened to live quite far from Hertfordshire.

  “Papa,” Jane whispered from the floor.

  Smiling at his younger daughter, he picked her up from the floor, at the same time giving away Thomas to Georgiana.

  “What shall we do today, Janie?”

  “Doggies,” she whispered.

  “Doggies, then.” There were several newborn puppies at the stables, and the children enjoyed visiting them every day.

  “May I come too, Papa?” Anne pleaded from her chair.

  Darcy sighed. The punishment should be much longer, but he found it impossible to refuse her. “You may, only remember to behave.” He glared at his eldest daughter sternly.

  “I will, thank you, Papa!” She skipped happily to his side.

  Together they left the library. The old walls of Pemberley echoed with the children’s laughter.

  The End