The expectation of an early arrival did little to calm Darcy’s already frayed nerves. As it was, he had arranged his business affairs as to remain closer to home, never venturing more than a half-day’s ride from Pemberley. Although it would defy tradition, he wanted to be present to witness the birth. There would be no shutting him out of the chamber. Of this, he had already spoken of with Elizabeth, but knew she would not deny him.
“Women have been known to say hateful things in childbirth, particularly about the child’s father,” she warned, but the amusement in her eyes belied the threat.
“I shall tolerate whatever you wish to bestow. There may be truth in the words.”
Now, dressed and ready to depart, she patted his hand like the mother she was to become, only it was to soothe a child-husband.
“I will be home early. It appears that Georgiana concurs with you and tends to shoo me out before tea, and today I am scheduled at Maura’s for a once over. She has insisted upon seeing me weekly.”
“As it should be, do what the ‘doctor’ orders.”
“I will, but I think the visits are of mutual benefit. With no girls presently staying at Lilyhaven, I fear she is lonely.”
“But there is Melinda…”
“You know what I mean… a child is not the same company as a spouse. Mellie is a wonderful girl, but she is limited for conversation.”
“I hadn’t really thought… perhaps we have been remiss in excluding her. I believed she wanted her privacy.”
“She does, but not to the point of being forgotten. No one likes to be forgotten.”
“As always, you are a source of wisdom.”
“Indeed, it is best to remember that! Now I must be off, it will not due for me to be late, it sets a poor example for the girls.”
“Mrs. Darcy set a bad example? Never!”
******
The early morning banter had put Elizabeth in a fine mood, but she had not been entirely truthful. Of late she had been feeling fatigued and the occasional twinge in her abdomen did indeed suggest that the baby was soon to make an entrance. However, there was much that required her attention at the academy. With the first class of girls now approaching the four-month mark of their new education, it was necessary to go beyond basic deportment and reading. Now was the time to focus on individual skills, some of which, Elizabeth admitted, she too was lacking. Having grown up with servants, she only knew when a task was poorly done, but not necessarily how to do it. Only having five sisters and limited funds, did she acquire talents in hair dressing and fine sewing, but that was all. Georgiana was worse, her status did not lend itself to mending or repurposing clothing, but she did possess the requisite skills needed in a governess. As a result, it had been decided to split the girls into those who wished to become lady’s maids from those seeking posts as governesses. Of assistance, it had been easy to acquire two teachers. Miss Emily Stevens, an accomplished lady’s maid and Miss Gertrude Blevins, both school mistress and private governess, were both well past the age of retirement, but eagerly accepted an opportunity that not only possessed an excellent salary with accommodations, but also placed them in a much higher position than any household servant. This level of independence was the ultimate goal of the academy. With the added expertise, the Darcy women felt adequately armed to produce excellent young ladies of quality.
Arriving just before the first session of classes, Elizabeth felt another twinge in her abdomen as she alighted from her carriage. Forcing a smile to masque the discomfort, she gave instructions to the driver, a young footman of just sixteen years, he had been pleased with his selection for new the responsibility.
“Three o’clock Madam?” he inquired.
“Yes, but at Lilyhaven. Miss Runnymede insists upon inspecting me again,” she said with a smile before waving the young man off. As the distance between the two houses was less than a quarter mile, Elizabeth always walked. Enjoying the solitude as she held conversations with her unborn child, Elizabeth imagined all of the things they would do together in the future. But that was yet to come, for present, her mind must focus on the young ladies in her charge. Nodding a good morning to Georgiana and the other teachers who stood outside their respective classroom, Elizabeth greeted her pupils. It was to be another lesson in needlework, tedious and often disastrous, but she would not be daunted by the thick clumsy fingers of her charges.
“Good morning girls, today well shall attempt the fine art of mending silk. It is a skill that will require every ounce of patience,”
“Ours or yours Mrs. Darcy?” a voice piped up in humor. The speaker, a tall gangly girl with curling hair and a smattering of freckles, had more often than not been the cause of chastisement. If not for the spark of intelligence in her wit, Elizabeth would have sent Marianne Wellers home weeks ago, but had not the heart, knowing the poverty to which she would return. Learning to curb one’s tongue was one of her own failings as well.
“Both, but any task of value is worth doing well, is it not?”
Grumbles of acknowledgement were accompanied by the selection of materials and sighs of resignation as Elizabeth and her girls spent the hours before luncheon pulling uneven stitches from ruined clothing. However taxing the work, Elizabeth was relieved to be seated. The pains in her abdomen had ceased, replaced by the regular kicking of the child, bumping the mending hoop as she worked.
“Soon my love, just grow a bit more,” she crooned softly. Time seemed to evaporate and before long the bell rang ending the session, but instead of filing out in an orderly fashion, all of the staff and students encircled Elizabeth. Each one, pulling a small wrapped package from some hidden place as they did. Smug smiles of secrecy adorned their countenances as Georgiana announced their surprise.
“On behalf of everyone here at the Darcy Ladies’ Academy, we wish to extend our appreciation for you and everything you have done, but it is time that a far greater purpose occupies your time.”
“Am I being sacked?” Elizabeth asked with a nervous laugh.
“Indeed not! And we eagerly await your return, especially our nannies-in-training, but for now, we are ordering you home...Put your feet up, eat as much as you will and have that child, but not here!”
~Twenty-one~
Elizabeth’s eyes, finally dry from the tears that had come with the lovely surprise party were shining from the unexpected affection of both staff and students. That, and the array of tiny garments, carefully worked in their best embroidery, had made her overly emotional. There were so many lovely items that she would have to arrange for their delivery to Pemberley. Georgiana, overly protective, had not wished her to walk to Maura’s, but upon Elizabeth’s insistence that the air was just what she needed, had relented.
“I don’t approve, but have your way.”
“It was a wonderful day. I almost wish you still resided at Pemberley. I shall be lonely without you.”
“Oh pish! I shall send a note daily, telling you all of our business. After all, you are still headmistress.”
Elizabeth had not replied, but kissed her sister-in-law on the cheek and departed. If she were completely honest, Georgiana deserved that title more than she, and Elizabeth resolved to make it official after the baby arrived. A child changed one’s life forever and she would not be able to devote the same amount of time to the academy as before.
Walking slowly, as her form had become a bit unwieldly, Elizabeth daydreamed absently. Would the child be a boy or girl? They had many a heated debate over the selection of names. Darcy was traditional as ever, suggesting one of the grandparent’s names, but she had wanted something more original.
“There are far too many Anne’s, Mary’s and Jane’s. I want our child to be known for themselves, not their namesake,” she had insisted and voiced her own preferences, much to Darcy’s dismay. He had been unable to hide his distaste for the options, but it had been a jest on her part.
“Are you sure that Giovanna and Heinrich are what you really want? Imagine the tea
sing they might endure, especially Heinrich! Surely, Henry is a more agreeable choice? What of Catherine? It may make my aunt more agreeable?”
“Henry is boring… and what is wrong with Giovanna?” she had insisted, knowing that no number of children named in honor of Lady Catherine de Bourgh would make the old woman pleasant. Trying to hide her amusement had been difficult, especially when she realized that Darcy had believed her to be serious. Eventually, she could not smother the desire to laugh, relishing the look of relief on his face. In the end, they had agreed upon Arabella and Nicholas. Neither had immediate family members with those names. Secretly, Elizabeth hoped for a girl, but while she would be able to indulge in all things feminine, the matter of inheritance would not be secured without a male heir. Despite Pemberley not being entailed in any way, the law always favored men, and she would hate for her daughter to not have control over her own property. Chastising herself for worrying about things that might not happen, and if they did, were years away, Elizabeth tried stay focused on the positive, but the thoughts always interfered. Distracted, she had not paid much attention to the sudden flight of birds as they rose upwards in fright. Disturbing them from their roost, two men, with faces covered, emerged from the woods that bordered the road. The first, a large, burly, giant of a man, carried a length of rope, and heavy sacking, of a kind used to hold feed. The other, held a cloth soaked in a foul-smelling liquid. Rushing upon her from behind, Elizabeth felt the rough hands upon her person and struggled as the vapors placed over her mouth and nose smothered her breath. But a heavily pregnant woman was no match for two and she quickly succumbed, falling limp in her attacker’s arms.
“Are you sure she ain’t dead? We don’t get paid if she’s dead,” the larger man asked as he wrapped Elizabeth in the sacking, binding her limbs to prevent movement should she wake.
“She’s not dead, but will wake with a pounder. Trust me, I’ve done this sort of thing before. Old Upton wants her alive, and alive she’ll be… at least until the brat is born. After that…we will need to tidy up.”
“As long as I get paid.”
“Oh, you will, and handsomely. Peter Endicott always pays his bills… just be sure not to cross him…or Auntie, she got us this job and will expect gratitude.”
“She always does.”
With Elizabeth secured, the big man hoisted her carefully onto his shoulder as to not harm the growing child, but not before placing a hand under her nose to ensure that she was indeed breathing. Kidnapping was one thing; murder was quite another. If she were to be done in afterwards, it would not be he doing the deed. Even criminals such as he had their limits. Grunting under the weight, he followed his companion back into the woods, completely unaware that a pair of frightened eyes had witnessed all.
~Twenty-two~
It was nearly two hours before Elizabeth’s disappearance was noticed. Maura, expecting her arrival, did not worry until it was well past the time of her regularly scheduled visit. Believing that some sort of business at the academy had held her, she had occupied herself in the compounding of a new tea. Having read a medical journal on the remedy, it was supposed to suppress early labor symptoms in women who had lost babies before term. Infusing the final product, she tasted her efforts, making a face in distaste.
“No one will ever drink that!” she said aloud and pondered what to add that would improve its palatability without reducing effectiveness. Peering out the window over her work table, Maura scanned the area for any sign of Elizabeth. As it faced the road, it provided an excellent vantage point to avoid unwanted visitors before they arrived. But there was no sign of Mrs. Darcy. Only Melinda was seen, wandering along the edge way, swinging a basket of flowers with such vigor that many of the blossoms flew out, sending the girl into fits of laughter. Sighing with a smile, Maura felt bittersweet at the sight. Although Melinda was brilliant in her own strange way, she would always require supervision. What would happen to her if Maura could no longer care for her? Waving a hand out the window, she called to her daughter.
“Mellie, come in now. Mrs. Darcy will be here soon.”
“No… not coming.”
“Yes, you are. Change into a clean dress so we can have tea.”
“No… not me… Lizzie not coming.”
By now, Melinda had reached the veranda and deposited her nearly empty basket beside her as she sat down on the steps with a flounce. Choosing a wilted daisy, she began to idly pluck its petals, chanting as she did.
“Lizzie not coming. Lizzie not coming.”
“What do you mean ‘not coming’? Of course, she’s coming. Mrs. Darcy comes every Tuesday for tea.”
“Not today…. She go with bad man… bad man carry Lizzie”
Maura swallowed the panic that threatened her normally sedate presence of mind as the reality of Melinda’s words sank in. Someone had abducted Elizabeth… and she had a very good idea of who, but where had she been taken? Her brother was not past doing the worst of deeds to get what he wished, but Peter Endicott, Lord Upton, did not sully his own fingers. No, he would have hired others to do his dirty work, but first, Darcy had to be told and it was his anger that she feared most. Desperate men did not think rationally and this was not a time for rash decisions. Saddling the one horse she possessed, and boosting Melinda behind, Maura rode with all speed to Pemberley.
*****
Unfortunately, while awareness of her disappearance was being made known, Elizabeth drifted in and out of consciousness before finally becoming lucid enough to realize that she was not in the midst of a bad dream, but a reality that was the stuff of nightmares. Bound hand and foot as well as blindfolded, she tried to test the limits of the cords that held her fast, but it was to no avail. Her captors had done their work well and she was unable to move beyond a few inches. With sight also being withheld, Elizabeth wiggled her head against the coarse rag until it freed her vision, but it provided little relief. The place in which she was held was dark as pitch, without the faintest trace of light to outline a single thing. Fighting to remain calm and use her remaining senses to define her surroundings, Elizabeth muttered words of reassurance to her child. As if in agreement, the babe inside gently kicked in response.
“The air smells sour, and it is damp, but what I suppose to be a bed is dry, for that I must be thankful. Whomever our gaoler may me, they must not wish me dead… at least not yet. Of sounds, there is a faint scratching. Probably mice, but that is all. No birds… or any other outside sounds. We must be in an interior place, but of where…we shall just have to wait and see. But I assure you, dear one; your papa will be most displeased when he discovers us missing…Until then, as there is no other option, I suggest we both get some sleep.”
Crooning a lullaby, Elizabeth did her best to find a position of relative comfort. Dread threatened to turn her logic into terror, but it would not benefit her or the child. Rest must be taken to keep her wits sharp, even if it proved elusive, and it was some time before exhaustion claimed her.
*****
As if her pleas could travel the space between herself and Darcy, this appraisal was less than accurate to describe his reaction. For when Maura and Melinda arrived at Pemberley, he had not been in residence, as a result there were hours of delay before a search party was organized. With daylight quickly draining, a small army returned to the road from which Melinda had last seen Elizabeth. Included in the efforts were every available man from Pemberley and every woman from the Academy.
“I am sure you ladies mean well, but this is a very serious situation,” Darcy had insisted, but the fear in his eyes had given away his lack of resolve. At first, he had wanted to confront Peter Endicott, but had been cautioned by Maura. She knew far better than any of who was to blame, and of what he was capable. If they did not find Elizabeth soon, she would not survive.
“I seriously doubt that Elizabeth was the intended victim. He has nothing to gain by taking her. It is Rosamund’s child that he needs, but my brother is not known for hiring the m
ost sensible people. If they realize that Elizabeth is the wrong person… it may prove devastating. It may be best that YOU remain at Pemberley. What if someone sends some sort of demand for ransom? What if she comes home?” Maura rationalized.
“Agreed, you are in no shape to think objectively. You must remain at Pemberley. We are perfectly capable, and the more people the greater the search. Besides, most of these girls know the surrounding area very well, better than even you. Don’t you dare deny us!” Georgiana insisted.
Although terrified for the woman she now considered her sister, Georgiana knew that Elizabeth was the one person who caused her brother to lose all reason. When informed of her abduction, he had given in to actual violence, slamming his fist into an oaken door. While his hand would heal, the crack in the surface would serve as a constant reminder. This was just the sort of thing she feared and had done her best to orchestrate a plan before he came home. Having returned to Pemberley nearly two hours before to oversee the transport of Elizabeth’s baby gifts, she had sent messengers to round up people and supplies, informed the local magistrate and retrieved maps of the surrounding area. By the time everyone assembled, they were well equipped, but in the end it was fruitless. Neither man had bothered to cover their tracks, creating a much-disturbed path. Their boots, leaving deep prints in the damp earth, made a clear line to the woods and beyond to another road. From there, the trail was lost. Some sort of conveyance had spirited away Elizabeth Darcy to places unknown.
~Twenty-three~
Hours later, Elizabeth woke to the feeling of rough hands against her skin as the cords that bound her were cut free. A dull pre-dawn light filtered through a dusty window from which shutters had been removed. At first, she was not cognizant of her surroundings, having drifted into a dreamless sleep. But now, as a wrinkled face, filled with decaying teeth peered down at her, the reality of the previous day’s events came crashing back.
A Child for Elizabeth Page 8