Mrs. Darcy and the Churchyard Foundling

An Elizabeth Darcy Adventure #8

By: Carrie Mollenkopf

Narrated by: Virtual Voice

Length: 4 hrs and 55 mins

Publisher's summary

Just Elizabeth Darcy longs for another child with no success, an orphan is mysteriously thrust into her care. Unfortunately, of the only people who know of his origins, one lies dead, murdered by an unknown hand, and the other, suffering from an illness brought upon by shock, cannot speak. Who was the unknown woman meeting Lambton's aged vicar in the churchyard? And why was she in possession of a child that was not hers? Will this orphan baby be the answer to Elizabeth's desire for an addition to her family? Does Darcy share this feeling? Read an excerpt from Mrs. Darcy and the Churchyard foundling.

... life during the now eight years of her marriage had been the best. The adoration between herself and Darcy was mutual, an it often seemed that they now completed each other’s thoughts before words could be expressed. Only recently, Elizabeth wished the connection was not so deep, for she had spent much time in personal contemplation. With the happiest of marriages, and two beautiful children, she only desired to add to their family. Her son, an inquisitive fellow, was already six and the recent engagement of a tutor now filled Duncan Darcy’s days with fascination.
“I shall soon be ready for university,” he confided just that morning, receiving amused smiles from his parents in return. It would be years before the debate began over Oxford or Cambridge, but Mr. Wayfair concurred.
“Indeed Madam, the young master is quite accomplished for his years. It makes my position a joy to undertake, I only hope to be worthy of his abilities.”
“Of that, we have no doubt,” Darcy insisted, having gone through countless applications before offering the post.
But her son was not alone, and although but four years of age, Helena Darcy begged to be included.
“And me too, Papa! I am learning to read already!” she announced, commencing to recite the ABC for anyone willing to listen.
Mr. Quentin Wayfair had indeed been the best of choices, for he indulged both children and often joined in their play. To this, Elizabeth was grateful, but the daily lessons made her visits to the often vacant nursery unnecessary. Once again, the pleasant chamber seemed as abandoned as when she first came to Pemberley. As a person accustomed to the constant chatter of a large family, Elizabeth had hoped to have one of equal measure. But unfortunately, fate had not been in her favor. With four years having passed since Helena’s birth, and no sign of another pregnancy, she wondered if two children were to be her sole blessing. At first, the passage of time had been welcome. Many ladies her age had half a dozen children in equal time, and without the means to share the subsequent work with servants. Her sisters were evidence of this. Jane, the eldest and married the same day to a wonderful man, now had four boys. Lydia, the youngest, and married but one year longer, was in possession of five children. Only Mary, a new bride of less than a year, and Kitty, recently engaged, were not in this imagined competition. And that it was, Elizabeth chastised, but it was a competition with only one participant…herself. But, as things often do when in deficit, they become an obsession, especially when one’s own husband notices the same. Always an attentive man, Elizabeth found Darcy’s advances never lacking, but no further fruit of their efforts were born. And although he never directly expressed it, Darcy seemed to be cognizant of the possibility that no further children could be forthcoming. At six and thirty, and with the first streaks of grey in his dark hair, Fitzwilliam Darcy was still the most handsome of men. Some would argue, in his prime, but at almost twenty-eight, time was not in Elizabeth’s favor. Oh, she knew full well that many women had children into their middling years, but usually, they had prolific fertility, with the addition of a new child every year. But four years was a long time between…too long