Page 37 of One Night with Mr. Darcy
Mr. Darcy urged the little boy down. “See? Like this? Close your eyes, but stay awake.”
“Awake, awake, awake,” Willie yawned, drowsy.
Mr. Darcy started to hum and rock.
The boy squirmed a bit, but he seemed to mostly be getting comfortable. My, but the warm weight of him was lovely, wasn’t it? And as Willie stopped moving, Mr. Darcy continued to hum and rock, but buried his nose against Willie’s head, breathing in the scent of him, the sweet clean smell of smallness.
Mr. Darcy’s eyes stung, yet again. This was a perfection he had hitherto never experienced. He felt complete in a way that he had not realized was possible. It was wonderful to have this small little bundle against his chest, to be engaged only in helping the little boy nod off to sleep. It was everything in the entire world.
He rocked and hummed for a long time. First, he needed to be sure that Willie was truly asleep. He remembered how Georgiana took some time to really be lured off into true sleep, and any break in the rocking might wake her. He wasn’t sure if Willie was the same, but he decided not to take any chances. Secondly, he didn’t want to stop. He wanted this moment to go on and on, here with his son in his arms, holding the little boy while he slept.
Myson, he thought, nearly in disbelief. It seemed impossible, but it was also wonderful. Mr. Darcy had never experienced such contentedness. On another level, however, he felt spurred to action. He must do more for the little one. This was not nearly enough, rocking him to sleep.
If you are to have a proper papa, my little William, I must go above and beyond,he thought.
But how?
How could he conceal this connection between himself and the boy? If anyone guessed, it was a calamity for both Elizabeth and William. It would be such a blow to her reputation, and her as the parson’s wife! No, no one could know.
Eventually, it was these sorts of thoughts that drove him to slowly cease rocking and then get up. He went out of the sitting room and back to Elizabeth’s bedchamber.
She was lying on top of the covers of her bed, having shed the outer layer of her clothing but not gotten farther than that. She looked beautiful and exhausted, and he vowed he would help her, too.
How to do it?
He carefully lay William down, remembering that this was the key moment in the entire enterprise, that it was very easy to wake a sleeping child at this juncture, and then one must start over from the beginning.
He wouldn’t have minded if so, he thought. He was greedy for moments with the boy, as many moments as he could possibly get. He simply didn’t know how he would manage to get those moments without putting the boy’s reputation in danger.
No, he must protect William.
And his mother, too, of course.
Thus far, Mr. Darcy hadn’t done a particularly good job at all of that. He had a lot to make up for.
The little boy went down easily, however, and he swaddled his tiny son in his blankets. Then he gathered up a blanket from the bottom of the bed to cover up his mother.
She sighed in her sleep.
He couldn’t stop himself from planting a soft kiss on her forehead.
A lot to make up for indeed.
ELIZABETH DIDN’T LOOKat Mr. Darcy the next day at breakfast or at luncheon. She could not say whether he looked at her, because she ignored him entirely.
It was not because she didn’t want to look at him. Entirely the contrary, in fact. She was frightened that if she looked at him, she would not be able to look away. She was frightened she would go to him, and that she would simply throw herself into his arms.
Elizabeth was not a helpless sort of person. She’d had the weight of responsibility on her shoulders for some time now, even before she’d become a mother. She’d known that she must marry Mr. Collins to save her family, after all. The weight of that had driven her to drink that night at Netherfield, had driven her into Mr. Darcy’s arms and bed. The responsibility had been crushing her for a long time, perhaps forever.
There had never been any real hope of a respite.
But him.
He’d been the respite all those years ago. He’d been pleasure and sweetness and an escape. He’d made her feel desired and beautiful and worthwhile. He…
She could not look at him.
The funeral was held in the afternoon.
