“The smell?” said Elizabeth. “Well, I don’t know, I did not inquire.”
Hill’s eyebrows shot up. “And if don’t you mind my asking, Miss, is she still having her courses?”
Elizabeth drew back, hand to her chest. “Hill, I am quite taken aback by—”
“She could be with child,” said Barker. “I can’t believe no one’s thought of that.”
Elizabeth let the words wash over her. Suddenly, her ankle pained her. She stepped backward to clutch the doorway for balance. “It seems no one has. But even when a woman is with child, she is not so deeply afflicted that she cannot take nourishment, surely?”
Barker shrugged. “It can happen. Why, my own son’s wife, she were in a bad way at the beginning. We all feared she would die and take the babe with her. But there was a midwife that came to see her, and she brewed up a tea, taught us how to make it too, and that helped her quite a lot. Also, she said that in the morning, first thing, she should have either cheese or meat, not anything like beans or bread. Said the other stuff had more substance and would keep the sick away.”
“Yes,” said Hill, nodding. “I have heard quite the same thing.” She turned to Elizabeth. “If it is the case, then all Miss Jane needs is to calm the sickness enough to take some nourishment. Then both she and the babe will grow strong. But it may not be. You must ask her about her courses.”
Elizabeth felt dizzy with all the new information and possibility. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I will.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Before bed, Darcy went out to the stables to look in on the horses he’d brought. They’d been through quite the ordeal that day, riding hard through the rain and the mud, and he wanted to make sure they were being well looked after and given all the best to retain their strength. But the stables in Netherfield were quite of the best quality, and he needn’t have worried.
He returned shortly afterward and went straight to bed.
But when he had turned down the light and was about to climb into bed, something there stirred amongst the pillows. He drew back in surprise, and then realized that there was someone hiding on his bed. A woman.
She sat up, and it was Caroline.
He drew back. “What are you doing here?”
She was wearing only her shift, and her hair was in two braids on either side of her face. She looked young and a bit tired. She reached out for him. “Just lie down with me. Everyone thinks it has already happened between us. What is the use of more waiting?”
He furrowed his brow. “I hope that I mistake your meaning. You said at dinner that I was an honorable man. Perhaps if you attempted a bit of honor for yourself, you would be the better for it, madam.”
She gave him a pleading look. “Don’t make it difficult, Darcy. Why must you make everything so difficult? If only you would have proposed to me on your own, without any prompting, none of this would have been necessary.”
“‘Prompting,’ you call it?” He shook his head at her. “I wonder at you, Miss Bingley. I cannot think what has made you into the creature you are.”
She crawled out of the bed and started toward him. “The creature that I am is to be your wife, and this will have to happen eventually between the two of us, so it might as well happen now.”
“That is nonsensical,” he said, backing up.
She kept coming. “Is it? I don’t think it is. Besides, it is my understanding that men will go to great lengths for this experience, so don’t pretend as if you don’t desire it.”
He collided with the wall. It was at his back. “I don’t desire anything from you.”
She pressed close, her hands smoothing over his chest. “You are frustratingly proper, sir. But perhaps with a bit of encouragement…” Her hand traveled lower, darting suddenly between his legs.
He cried out, and then grasped her wrist and tugged it away from his body. “Miss Bingley!”
“Please, Mr. Darcy,” she said. “Grant me this. It is my only wish from you. Or, if you will not, at the very least promise me we will marry with haste, within a fortnight, sooner if possible, and then that you will grant me my wedding night.”
He gaped at her, his mind racing. He had not thought a lady would be so forward. He had not thought a lady would know such things. Why had she touched him as she had done? What was the meaning of this?
“Please,” she said again.
“I cannot do as you wish.”
“Why not?” she said. “Because it is not proper? Then set the date for our wedding.”
“I cannot do that either.”
“We must marry,” she said. “You will not destroy us both and your sister besides. I know you. You will not do such a thing.”
“This is most irregular, madam. You and I cannot converse together in such a manner—”
“And why not? As far as everyone thinks, we have already done this deed that you refuse me. I am painted with a brush as a certain kind of woman, but I have not tasted the forbidden fruit for which I am reviled.”
“You have only yourself to blame for all of that,” he said. “I want you to leave my room.”
“Perhaps,” she whispered, “if you saw me…” She pulled her night dress aside, over her shoulder, down to expose her breast.
He flinched, turning away so that he couldn’t see. “Stop it, Miss Bingley.”
She pressed close again. “You could pretend it was her,” she whispered. “I won’t mind.”
He tugged up her dress, covering her bare skin. “Stop this now.”
“Mr. Darcy—”
“And go,” he said.
“I cannot,” she said. “Not until you have me. You must. Please.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. Why was she so desperate, as if her life depended on his acquiescence? He didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all. “I will drag you back to your own bedchamber if you do not go on your own. Now, leave.”
She opened her mouth to protest again. But then, she hung her head and tears began to stream down her face.
If she expected her tears to move him, she was wrong. He glared at her instead.
Downcast and defeated, sobbing softly, she did leave his room.
Once she was gone, he locked the door behind her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“I thought it was because of my illness,” said Jane, looking up at Elizabeth. “I have heard that sometimes the courses stop when you have lost weight, and I do seem to have done so.”
The sisters were in Jane’s room at Netherfield and they were speaking privately. Elizabeth had left Longbourn early, on her own that day. She had instructed Mary to tell her mother that she was far too affected by Jane’s illness to travel today, and that she must stay at home and be looked after by the other girls.
Mary had been dour. “But there is nothing wrong with her,” she had said.
“She cannot be in the way at Netherfield,” Elizabeth had said. “It is for Jane, who needs peace for recovery.”
“So, you are asking me to lie?” Mary had said. “Do you know what the bible says about lying?”
“Mary, for your sister, please,” Elizabeth had said. “And it is not a lie. It is the truth. Mother has gotten herself quite worked up.” Elizabeth knew that if her mother’s vanity was played upon, she would be unable to resist the idea of being coddled and pampered. She would never agree to take the younger girls to Netherfield if there was a chance that she could be fussed over instead.
When Elizabeth left, she hadn’t been sure that Mary would do as she asked, but she hoped that she would. And thus far, there had been no sign of anyone else from Longbourn, so Elizabeth hoped for the best.
She had been at Jane’s side when her sister woke and then waited until they might have some time alone before asking Jane about her courses. Now Jane furrowed her brow and her face seemed so very, very thin. “Why do you ask me this, Elizabeth? What does it matter?”
“It’s only that Hill and Barker think that you may well be with chil
d, and that your illness is because of that, not anything else,” said Elizabeth.
“Of course,” said Jane, brightening. “Why, it all makes sense. I do remember how Mother was with Kitty. She was quite out of sorts and could eat nothing but crumpets and tea cakes.”
Elizabeth thought privately that her mother may have played up her affliction when she remembered that last pregnancy. But she and Jane had both been so young at the time, it was hard to remember anything about it very clearly.
Jane beamed at Elizabeth. “Oh, Lizzy, this is the best news. I am going to have a baby! My own sweet baby. I have to admit, at first, when my courses did not come, I thought of it, but then I began to blame the illness, and everyone has been so worried about me, I did not want to say anything, for I thought it would make everyone even more worried about me. But if you think the illness is caused by that, then… then…”
“It really changes nothing,” said Elizabeth, sighing. “But stay here. I will go down to the kitchens and tell the staff there of a tea that Barker told me about. Perhaps it will help you.”
Jane’s smile grew even bigger. “Oh, please do. I’m so glad you are here. I missed you so much. And you know just the way to fix everything. I put myself entirely in your hands.” Then she made a face and groped on the side of the bed for the pot she kept there. Up came all the water she had drunk at Elizabeth’s urging earlier.
Elizabeth cringed.
“Oh, don’t watch!” cried Jane.
“Jane, I have seen you vomit before,” said Elizabeth. “I will go as quickly as I can.” And she ran from the room to head downstairs to speak to the staff at Netherfield.
At first, there was some concern over all the ingredients. They had ginger and honey in plentiful amounts, but peppermint was not growing yet. Then someone remembered that there was a store of dried peppermint in the larder, and that was brought immediately. The tea was brewed right away and then delivered up to Jane’s room.
Elizabeth, frightened to give anyone else hope on the possibility that she was wrong, watched in trepidation as Jane took that first sip.
Jane wrinkled up her nose. “The ginger is quite… biting.”
“It will soothe your stomach. Keep drinking.”
“The mint is lovely though,” said Jane. “Yes, that’s rather…” She took another drink. And then another. “You are a miracle worker, Lizzy. It is the first time in some weeks that I don’t feel as though I am on the edge of vomiting.”
“Truly?” said Elizabeth.
Jane laughed. “Truly.” And she drank the entire cup of tea.
* * *
Elizabeth stepped into the drawing room, where Bingley was sitting at the window, staring out the window at the bright sun outside. His face looked drawn and tired, and Elizabeth was struck by how different a man he seemed than when she had first laid eyes on him at the Meryton assembly. Then, he had been a jolly sort of fellow, full of smiles and easy laughter. But in that time, he seemed to have aged years.
“Here you are, then,” she said brightly.
He turned to look at her. “Ah, Miss Bennet. Good morning.” His voice had a cheerful lilt, but the undercurrent was broken.
“Yes, I was looking for you, but I only found your sisters, who said that they had not seen you.” Not that either of the women had been much interested in talking to Elizabeth, after all. Caroline, in particular, had glared at Elizabeth as if she were the devil himself. “They did say that sometimes you liked to spend time here in this room, so I thought I would seek you here. I have news. I think you will find it good, although it is not an end to all of our worries.”
He sat up straight. “About my wife?”
She nodded. “Yes. I believe that she is in need, not of a doctor, but of an accoucher.”
“Accouch…” His eyes widened. “You don’t mean that…?”
“Yes,” said Elizabeth. “I believe that I do. It seems that sometimes women who are expecting a child are quite badly afflicted with vomiting, and Jane seems to be responding well to a tea that my cook and housekeeper told me about for women in that condition. There are other signs that point to that conclusion, so—”
Bingley was across the room in two moments, seizing both of her hands, a smile on his face. “Then, she is not fighting an illness at all?”
“No,” said Elizabeth, and she smiled too. But then the smile slid from her face. “It does not mean that we can stop worrying, however. She is quite weak, and she has not been eating, and that is not good news, for she should be eating more than usual to keep up her strength and feed the babe as well.”
Bingley’s smile faded too. “What you say is true. She is still quite in grave danger. And it is not a random illness, but my own fault.”
“Now, there is nothing to be gained from looking at it that way,” said Elizabeth. “There is yet hope, however. She was able to eat something after the tea we gave her, and she has kept it down. I was told she should eat things like cheese or meat straightaway upon waking, and that seems to have sustained her a bit, so I think we must hope for the best. And the midwife, the one who is knowledgeable about women badly afflicted. I think she must be sent for at once.”
“Indeed,” said Bingley. He took a deep breath. “Can you… do you know how to get in touch with the midwife? I think I must go to my wife immediately. I must see her, talk to her.”
“Yes,” said Elizabeth. “You must. And I shall be able to manage the business of sending for the midwife.”
Later that day, after the midwife had confirmed with reasonable certainty that Jane was in fact with child and that her sickness was a consequence of that, Jane was feeling so much better that she was able to dress and come down for dinner, though she didn’t stay long, because the smells were too much for her. Once back in her room, though, she had more of her tea, and she was able to eat some chicken and potatoes, because she said they were bland enough not to upset her. She was already in better spirits.
The midwife had explained that the sickness affected women differently, and that Jane was simply unlucky to be one who was so badly plagued. She had various ideas for things that could help, and said that they must do what they can to settle Jane’s stomach enough that she could take down sustenance and keep it down. If the tea was helpful, she must have as much tea as she liked.
Jane herself was overjoyed with excitement, exclaiming to Elizabeth that she had gone from knocking on death’s door to having a whole future in front of her including a baby, and she spent every last moment talking about names to whoever would listen, saying that, of course, she would have to be sure that Mr. Bingley was in agreement before anything was settled on. She was also most desirous of looking at the nursery in the house, for they would need to get started as soon as they could on it.
For his part, Mr. Bingley was in much improved spirits, and the air of the entire household was better than it had been.
Only when Elizabeth saw Mr. Darcy at dinner and their gazes met for one moment, did anything damper her mood acutely. Seeing Mr. Darcy reminded Elizabeth of what she wanted and what she could never have.
He looked away at once, appearing as stricken as she felt. For the rest of the meal, he was silent, and after dinner, she did not see him.
* * *
A week passed, and Jane grew stronger.
Through trial and error, they were able to determine what smells were most bothersome to her, and she took care to avoid them all. If she was given tea and a bland hard cheese upon waking, it calmed the very worst of her illness, and she was able to be up and about for the day, not confined to bed. She took meals with everyone, and all was well.
Instead of feeling as though Jane would not make it, she began to gain weight and grow rosy cheeked and bright eyed. She was in high spirits. Elizabeth was cautious at first. She wanted to believe the danger was over, but she did not want to be over hasty. As the days passed, though, she grew more and more confident that Jane would recover entirely, and that her baby would be healt
hy as well.
One afternoon, the windows were thrown open to let in the warm spring breezes. Jane was in the drawing room with all of them—Bingley, Caroline, Darcy, and Elizabeth. Mr. and Mrs. Hurst had left a few days earlier, wanting to be back in town.
The wind changed direction, and suddenly Jane was on her feet, retching.
A flurry of action burst forth, calling for a pot for her to vomit in and for her tea to be brewed at once, and in all of it, only Elizabeth seemed to notice that Caroline was affected too.
She was clutching her chest as her cheeks bulged, and Elizabeth could only think that Caroline smelled something that only Jane could smell. Why would that be?
She had an awful thought. That perhaps all the stories she’d heard about Caroline and Darcy were, in fact, true, and that Darcy had been lying to her. Perhaps he had robbed Caroline of her virtue, and perhaps she was already gone with his child.
But no, that couldn’t be, for it had been November when all that happened, and now it was mid-March. If she had begun increasing so long ago, there would be a sign of it by now. And from what Elizabeth had heard from the midwife, the stage at which smells produced vomiting was early in the course of childbearing.
Of course, Elizabeth had to admit that she knew very little about carrying children.
As for Mr. Darcy, he’d had very little contact with Elizabeth, though she had been residing under the same roof as he. She spent all her time tending to Jane, and Darcy stayed out of the way for the most part. The fact that he had even joined them today in the drawing room was out of the ordinary. She wanted to believe that he was the man that he had claimed to be. Indeed, every observance of his character in Hunsford had told her that story. But she could not be sure of it.
She sought out his gaze across the room.
He was wrangling a pot from a maid and handing it over to Jane, passing along the word that tea was being brewed and would be there as soon as possible. But then he saw Elizabeth looking at him.
She nodded at Caroline.
The Unraveling of Mr Darcy Page 15