The gravity of my near disaster stilled me—aside from the laboured breaths that heaved my chest. My familiarity with the treacherous path had given me a false sense of security, and Ihad been careless. I could have perished; indeed, I could not account for how I had survived.
An image of my beloved Elizabeth came to me. My wife had rendered a profound change upon my life. She had introduced joy, passion, and liveliness into the drab world in which I had once existed. Of course, the road to my current felicity had been anything but smooth. I had never known such agony as when she had rejected me with apparent finality following my first botched proposal. I winced as memories from those long months of longing and despair returned in vivid detail.
In stark contrast, my heart had never been fuller than when she let me know her sentiment for me had altered and blossomed into love. Until that moment, such bliss had seemed an impossible dream.
Each day with Elizabeth had been a gift, with her love and support sheltering me from life’s little calamities. Just when it seemed I could not possibly be made any happier, we had been blessed with Bennet. As if by magic, my capacity to love had grown upon my first glimpse of his red, blotchy face. From that moment, I had no greater purpose in life than to guide and protect my son and any other children we might be fortunate enough to have.
Tears stung my eyes at the notion of what I almost lost.As fortunate as I am to have Elizabeth and Bennet in my life, I wish for more. I hope to have more children, raise them, and grow old with Elizabeth by my side. I must be more careful from now on. I have everything to live for.
With a tentative step, I found the tingling in my legs had abated. I took hold of the reins, and patted Regal’s neck.Confound it. My gut twisted at the mere thought of riding again, yet I should not indulge that petty apprehension. With a deep breath, I mounted Regal and urged him onwards.
Upon my return to the house, I instructed a servant to have water sent up for a bath. In the main passage, Mrs. Reynolds approached me at a brisk pace.
Folds darkened her forehead. “Sir, an incident occurred with Mrs. Darcy an hour or so ago.” Mrs. Reynolds used a rushed cadence. “She has recovered now, but she fainted while out in the rose garden.”
My respiration hitched. Elizabeth had never fainted before! “Where is she now?” The words boomed from me.
“The library, sir.”
I brushed past her and darted down the passage. My steps halted at the entrance to the library, where a captivating scene awaited me: Elizabeth sat in a large chair with Bennet in her lap. She read aloud from one of my son’s favourite books. My thundering heart calmed. She appeared serene and radiated health and vitality. I took another moment to savour the picture of my two most precious people on earth before crossing the threshold.
She lifted her gaze to me and grinned. “Fitzwilliam, you are home.”
My long strides covered the distance between us. “Mrs. Reynolds said you had fainted. Pray tell me, how are you feeling?”
“There is no cause for concern, I assure you.” She reached out, and my fingers threaded through hers. “I am well.”
I searched her countenance. Did I overthink the situation, or did she appear a touch too cheerful, as though she meant to conceal the extent of her distress? “Are you quite certain?” I placed my palm at her forehead and found no sign of fever.
“Yes, without a doubt.” Elizabeth’s lips curved in an abashed style. “I believe I did not drink enough today—a foolish mistake.”
With a taut attitude, I swallowed the words of admonition that danced on my tongue. For my own peace of mind, I should haveinsisted that at least for the next few days, a servant remained with Elizabeth at all times, but she would be certain to object. Instead, I kissed her forehead. “I am relieved to find you hale and hearty.”
Bennet grabbed several pages of his book, and Elizabeth gently worked his tiny hand loose so he did not tear them. She glanced up at me. “How was your ride?”
My mouth twisted before forming a weak smile. “I found it more stimulating than I might have preferred.”
“Oh?” She regarded me with her brows arched.
Before I could form a response, my son, perhaps weary of being disregarded, extended his arms towards me. “Papa!” Bennet’s demanding yet endearing tone caused my heart to clench.
I knelt before Bennet and embraced him. “How is my boy today?”
His nose crinkled, and he displayed a pout. “Want biscuit!”
Elizabeth shook her head. “He has been repeating that for the past ten minutes.” She bent next to Bennet’s ear. “You need to eat your dinner first, my love.”
“No! Biscuit!” Bennet scratched his forehead.
“It seems our boy has lost interest in his book.” She pointed to the set of wooden building toys set out for his use. “Would you like to construct a house with your toys?”
“Yes!” He climbed down from his mother’s lap and busied himself with his blocks of wood. For now, the biscuit had been forgotten.
Elizabeth directed an adoring smile at our son as he separated the wood pieces into separate groups according to their colours. She turned to me. “Considering his parents, it is no surprise Bennet has a sweet tooth.”
“That is true enough.” Until I met Elizabeth, I had formed the mistaken belief that my exorbitant fondness for desserts surpassed that of anyone else.
My son put together an unwieldy structure that could best be described as a trapezoid. With his attention rapt in this project, Elizabeth rose and pulled me to the nearby sofa, where we sat together.
