Page 21 of Mr. Darcy’s Forgotten Heir (Pride and Prejudice Variations #1)

The christening was a quiet affair at the village church, with Mary and Graham standing as godparents.

Elizabeth had hesitated over William’s formal registration, knowing that listing Darcy as his father without proof of marriage might mark her son as illegitimate in official records.

In the end, prudence won over pride—she registered him as William Fitzwilliam Bennet, a compromise that maintained her dignity while protecting her son from potential legal complications.

But in her heart, and in the privacy of their little rooms at Bellfield Grange, he remained William Darcy, heir to Pemberley and all it represented.

The new year—1813—dawned cold and clear. William, now nearly five months old, had developed a fascination with the flames in the hearth, his now dark eyes tracking the dancing light with an intensity that reminded Elizabeth painfully of his father.

Georgiana’s letters grew more detailed as Darcy’s periods of lucidity lengthened.

He could now speak in short sentences, though his memory remained fragmented.

He recognized Georgiana and his aunts but showed no recollection of his time in Hertfordshire.

The physicians attributed this to the common pattern of brain injuries, where the events immediately preceding the trauma were often permanently lost.

He asked about Pemberley yesterday, Georgiana wrote.

His first question about his estate since the accident.

Lady Catherine was exultant, declaring it proof that his ‘true priorities’ were returning.

I did not tell her that he followed this question by asking if our parents would be joining us for dinner.

Elizabeth read these reports with a mixture of hope and heartache. Each small improvement in Darcy’s condition kindled her belief that he might someday return to himself, yet the persistent gaps in his memory—particularly those concerning her—wounded deeply.

January 20th: Our son achieved his first roll today, from his stomach to his back, though he seemed rather surprised to find himself in this new position.

He lay there for several minutes, arms and legs flailing like an overturned beetle, wearing an expression of profound indignation.

I believe he inherited your dislike of being caught off-guard by unexpected circumstances.

January 30th: William can now sit upright with support, surveying his domain from this new vantage point with regal composure.

He particularly enjoys being propped against pillows in the morning parlor, where he can observe the daily activities with an air of grave supervision.

Graham says he looks like a tiny magistrate presiding over his court.

Georgiana’s letters had grown infrequent as spring approached.

Elizabeth supposed there was no news to tell that wouldn’t dispirit her.

Darcy seemed lost in his own silence, whether of memory or confusion.

His personality remained strangely muted.

He showed interest in estate business but none in social interactions.

Spring arrived in a riot of wildflowers across the Yorkshire moors.

William, now crawling with determined energy, developed a passion for exploration that kept Elizabeth constantly vigilant.

Graham constructed a small wooden pen to contain the adventurous infant while his mother attended to household duties, but William regarded this barrier as a personal affront, protesting loudly until someone—usually Graham himself—relented and carried him about the farm.

“He has your stubborn nature,” Mary observed dryly as William howled his displeasure at being confined.

“And his father’s determination,” Elizabeth replied, watching her son methodically stack wooden blocks that Graham had carved for him. “Look how he keeps trying until he gets it exactly right.”

March 14th: William has begun to babble in earnest, producing streams of “da-da-da” and “ba-ba-ba” that he delivers with utmost seriousness. I cannot help but notice that his first consonant sound is “da”—perhaps he is calling for you, my dearest love.

March 25: Your son has discovered the joy of banging his blocks.

Pound, pound, thud, thud. Graham carved him shapes: bears, sheep, fish, and birds.

He has also mastered the art of transferring objects from hand to hand, which he practices with the dedication of a student preparing for examination.

Everything he grasps eventually finds its way to his mouth for thorough investigation.

She had yet to hear from Georgiana, and of course, she had long since given up on corresponding with Jane and her other sisters.

Mrs. Philips wrote that the entire neighborhood had left off inviting the remaining Bennets to social events, and that only she, being Mrs. Bennet’s sister, was obliged to host them for dinner.

Jane was not allowed to write Elizabeth, for fear of compromising her prospects, although Mrs. Philips did not provide Elizabeth any additional information.

She sincerely hoped Mr. Collins had departed from his goal of marrying a Bennet sister, and she was sure if Jane had been forced to marry the parson, her aunt would have informed her.

Mrs. Gardiner kept her apprised of her uncle’s health and any news she heard, which was precious little, given Lady Catherine’s control of information.

Although she, too, had heard of various women of low station turning up at Darcy House to claim a compromise or secret marriage.

Elizabeth’s heart sank as she read those final lines.

In the eyes of society, she was merely another in a parade of desperate women attempting to exploit an incapacitated gentleman’s inability to defend himself.

She could imagine the scene—Lady Catherine’s imperious dismissal of each claimant and her cold pronouncements about fortune hunters preying upon tragedy.

How easy it would be to dismiss Elizabeth Bennet as yet another compromised miss with a child, spinning elaborate tales of secret ceremonies and predawn vows.

The very frequency of such claims would make her story less credible, not more so.

Each false pretender who appeared at Darcy’s door weakened Elizabeth’s position, painting all such assertions with the brush of opportunistic deception.

That Georgiana believed her was a testament to Providence and the girl’s good sense.

Elizabeth would not allow herself to dwell on the possibility that Darcy would never recognize her amongst all the other claimants .

The other women did not have William.

Instead, she focused on her son’s daily developments—each new tooth, his growing vocabulary of babbles, and his delight in the Honywood’s’ sheepdogs.

Graham remained a steady presence, never overstepping the boundaries she had established yet always available when needed.

He taught William to clap his hands, to play peekaboo, to laugh at silly faces—small, precious moments that Elizabeth catalogued with bittersweet awareness that these were experiences Darcy might never share.

April 8, 1813: William has discovered the fascinating possibility of throwing objects to watch them fall.

He practices this new skill with scientific precision, dropping his blocks repeatedly to observe its trajectory.

Every time Graham picks up the toy, he throws it down immediately.

His concentration during these experiments reminds me forcibly of your attention to detail when reviewing correspondence.

I fear our son has inherited your perfectionist tendencies along with your penetrating stare.

The guilt of comparing William to Darcy in front of Graham haunted Elizabeth for days.

Graham had earned his place in William’s daily life through months of devoted attention.

Yet she could not shake the feeling that she was somehow betraying Darcy by allowing another man to witness milestones that should have been his.

May 1813

Elizabeth’s twenty-second birthday passed quietly, marked only by a small celebration organized by Mary and the Honywoods. William, now sitting confidently and reaching for everything within his range, had developed an alarming habit of trying to eat whatever he could grasp.

May 28, 1813: Our son has discovered the joy of dirt and appears convinced it is a delicacy.

I spend half my day removing various inedible items from his mouth—leaves, pebbles, bits of wool that escape from the sorting shed.

You would laugh at his stubborn insistence on exploring every corner of his world through taste, consequences be damned.

He has your determination, my dear, though perhaps not yet your judgment.

June brought the first happy news from outside. A letter from Mr. Gardiner, writing to inform her that Jane had become engaged to Mr. Bingley.

Your sister wishes you to know of her happiness , her uncle wrote, and hopes that your own circumstances may soon improve. She asks particularly after your health and that of your child, though she dares not write directly for fear of compromising your discretion.

Elizabeth wept over that letter, joy for Jane mixing with sharp loneliness. Her sister would have everything Elizabeth had hoped for—a love match with a man who adored her, family approval, and social acceptance. All the things that remained tantalizingly out of Elizabeth’s reach.

June 15, 1813: William pulled himself to standing today using the legs of his crib for support!

He stood there swaying slightly, staring out the window as if waiting for someone to arrive.

The determination in his small face was so reminiscent of your own stubborn resolve that my heart broke a little, watching him.

Does he somehow sense his father’s absence?

Graham fashioned him a lower rail to practice with, but William prefers the challenge of the higher surfaces.