Mr Darcy's Second Chance

by Gillian Smith

  "No. She's resting. As long as there isn't a fever and another bleeding, the doctor thinks she will recover. It will be a long time before she is well though. That was… we almost lost her."

  Instead of helping that seemed to make it worse. Georgiana covered her head with the hands, trying to shield herself from the world. "Forgive me," she mumbled miserably. "You must hate me."

  "Georgie," Darcy said tiredly, "Look up."

  His sister raised her head, wiping her nose on the blanket.

  "Look at my hands," Darcy asked, holding them up like he was showing off a set of rings. They shook uncontrollably and there was still dried blood under his fingernails. "Do you see that?"

  Georgiana nodded.

  "I'm scared to death. I've watched two women I loved die – our mother when she gave you to the world and my first wife and her baby with her. I'm terrified it's going to happen a third time. I'm terrified the doctor's going to say Elizabeth has a fever, or she's bleeding again. Or the baby is sick. If there's anything past terrified, that's what I feel right now. So, no, I don't hate you."

  Georgiana nodded again.

  "The cook is fixing breakfast for you. When you calm down, come downstairs and eat. Or maid will bring the tray here. Do you think you can do that?"

  Nod.

  "All right." Darcy stood and turned toward the door.

  *~~*~~*

  Elizabeth was asleep in the bedroom and his new baby girl was asleep in the nursery, both taking slow, rhythmic breaths. If the doctor had requested Darcy pay him in teeth instead of money, he would have found a pair of pliers and opened his mouth. The man was a candidate for sainthood.

  "Keep her flat," the doctor said tiredly as Mrs. Reynolds helped him with his coat. He had been there for three days straight, and the strain showed in his thin face and shoulders. "And I mean flat. Not on her side, not sitting up, flat on her back. When she's awake enough to swallow, give her sips of cool water and broth. Maybe some tea."

  "Can she see the baby?" Darcy asked. "If she is awake?"

  "For a little bit. Just don't upset her."

  "What if she wants to feed-"

  "Absolutely not," the doctor scolded. "She needs all her strength. Just keep her comfortable and let her rest. I'll be back first thing in the morning."

  "Thank you," Darcy said, awkwardly offering his left hand. "You do not know how grateful I am."

  After they shook hands, there was a pause, and the doctor cleared his throat. Mrs. Reynolds took her cue and left, leaving the two men alone in the hall.

  "I've known you a long time, Mr. Darcy." The doctor said. "Your father was a good man, God rest his soul, but he isn't here, so I'll say it. You and I have seen enough young women die and by all rights, your wife should have been one of them. Son, you just got a miracle."

  "I know that."

  "I know you love your wife but don't tempt providence again if you take my meaning. You already have two children and the world's full of willing flesh."

  Darcy nodded, red-faced and staring at the floor.

  "I'll be back in the morning. Just let her rest," the doctor had repeated before he opened the door, letting the cold wind in.

  *~~*~~*

  Life went in circles, repeating with slight variations on a theme. This time it was his bed and his wife that he sat beside, shifting uneasily in his straight-back wooden chair. His book of poems was half-hidden under the bed. As he opened the worn cover of Wordsworth collection to read the inscription from Elizabeth, he saw three dried, bloody fingerprints on it. The book had been one the maid had grabbed to prop up the foot of the bed.

  Darcy closed the small book, stood, and carried it to its place on the shelf across the room. He heard Jane chattering happily behind the closed doors, eager to tell her aunt about her morning.

  As he returned to his chair, Elizabeth turned her head, slowly opening her eyes, then blinking as he came into focus. "Hi," he said softly, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "There you are."

  "Your face?" she asked sleepily, after a few seconds, raising her fingers his unshaven cheek.

  Darcy laughed in nervous disbelief and answered, "I forgot. It took me about few days to even notice. Are you all right? How are you feeling?"

  "Shaky." She wet her lips, and he reached for the glass, raising it to her mouth. "Thank you. What- What happened?"

  "What's the last thing you remember?"

  She blinked, appearing uncertain. "The doctor saying he was going to…" She paused, moving her hand over the blankets to her flat abdomen. "To turn…"

  "She's fine. She's in the nursery. I can bring her if you want. Do you feel well enough to see her?"

  "She?" Her eyes darted over his face, wanting to know if he was disappointed. She raised her hand again, stroking the beard that he'd forgotten to shave in the last week. "We have another girl?"

  "A beautiful little girl. Olivia. She has dark eyes, dark hair… She's perfect, Elizabeth."

  "Her name?"

  "Olivia," he repeated gently.

  "Beautiful."

  "You named her," he smiled. He took her hand, kissing the palm and laced his fingers through hers. Her skin was so pale it was almost transparent. He was certain she'd shatter at any minute. "I'll bring her but you have to stay calm."

  Elizabeth nodded again, too weak to object.

  There were now two nursemaids. One for Jane and wet nurse for Olivia, and Mrs. Reynolds acting as nanny-in-chief but he found only Georgiana in the nursery, who was putting the final pin in Jane's hair.

  "Elizabeth is awake and she would like to see Olivia. Will you carry her for me?"

  In response, Georgiana set Jane down, retrieved Olivia from the cradle and settled her into the crook of Darcy's arm.

  "Why don't you carry her?" Darcy asked. "Elizabeth's going to be fine. She's getting better. Please, Georgie."

  The girl shook her head while Jane grabbed her father's hand.

  "Papa up?" The girl raised her little arms. He crouched down, lifted Jane by his free arm and kissed her on the cheek. The girl held her curious eyes at the tiny human resting on her papa's other arm.

  "She isn't angry with you, Georgie. In fact, she had no idea what happened. I just asked and she remembers none of it, thank God."

  Georgiana shook her head again and Darcy didn't pursue it. He handed Jane to his sister and carried Olivia down the long hallway to the master bedroom.

  "Are you still awake?" he asked as he returned to the chamber and Elizabeth opened her eyes, nodding and trying to sit up. "No, stay flat, doctor's order." He insisted, laying the baby beside her. "This is Olivia."

  "Olivia," she murmured, "Beautiful girl. Is she all right?"

  "She is fine. She took her time getting here, but she is fine. You had us worried though."

  "Is she hungry?"

  "No, I don't think so," he answered, knowing Elizabeth was too woozy to realise she had none milk. "Not right now."

  "What day is it?" Elizabeth asked, examining the baby. Olivia was small but not red and wrinkled like a newborn.

  "It's Monday," he hedged.

  She blinked at him. "A Monday…?"

  "It's Monday, January 3th," he told her, brushing his lips against her cool cheek, then the baby's forehead. "Welcome to 1813, my love."

  Such as it was.

  *~~*~~*

  It was the violet no-time before dawn and all but one candle on the dresser had melted into a pool of wax around a flickering yellow flame. It was soothing, captivating. The baby's heartbeat was steady against his and he let his mind drift through space as he held her: moving forward, backward, then turning sideways and slipping into the cluttered recesses of his memory.

  He still had trouble comprehending the magnitude of the miracle asleep against his shoulder. There were no words to explain what it was like to see echoes of his mother in his daughter's sleepy eyes. Olivia had her eyes and mouth, his dimples, and a warm little nose that has to be Elizabeth's. It matched his lips perfectly
when he kissed it. She was flesh of his flesh. She was his: hoped for, planned for, wanted, celebrated, cherished, and protected with his last breath. If he could have cut open his chest and stored her safely inside, he would have. There was too much evil in the world for him to risk ever letting her go.

  "Another hour and you'll be nine days old," he murmured to her, as minuscule fingers wrapped around his finger. "Nine whole days. Any thoughts so far, Miss Olivia?"

  Olivia's lips continued to move as she nursed in her dreams.

  "Me neither," he assured her, nuzzling the top of her head. Like a wild animal, he could identify her by smell alone. Like new rain and sweet cream and clean sheets. Her wet nurse used lavender soap, so there was a hint of that as well as Jane had always smelt faintly of Elizabeth's skin.

  Across the room, the covers shifted as Elizabeth rolled over and tried to sit up. "I'm here," he said immediately. He steadied Olivia against him, stood and walked to the bed. "What is it? Do you need something?"

  "I heard the baby crying," she answered, sounding disoriented.

  "No, she's fine. Go back to sleep."

  "But I heard her crying."

  "You were dreaming, Elizabeth. Go back to sleep."

  She pushed her legs over the side, her bare feet dangling far above the floor. "No, I heard a baby. Maybe it was Jane."

  "It wasn't," he insisted. He stood in front of her, making sure she didn't get up. "I was just in the nursery and she is fine. You had a bad dream. You're still dreaming. Lie down. It's not morning yet."

  She looked at him uncertainly, still more asleep than awake. "Are you sure?"

  "I'm sure it's not morning yet. Look, she is fine." He sat on the mattress, showing her the baby. "And Jane is fine. Lie down."

  Predictably, she shook her head but relaxed and sank back on the pillows. She closed her eyes, and he thought for a moment she'd fallen asleep. He turned toward the sofa.

  "Why are you awake?" she asked drowsily, and he turned back.

  "I couldn't sleep. And Olivia was up so I took her here. I was just getting her back to sleep."

  "Was she wet?"

  "Yes, she was wet."

  "And hungry?"

  "She is fine," he said lightly, preferring to avoid the issue.

  Elizabeth nodded. In the yellow candlelight her face still looked too pale, too tired, and she pulled the edge of her lip between her teeth. "I must have heard her but I did not wake until now," she said shakily. "She would have cried all this time."

  "She didn't. Don't worry about her. You shouldn't be waking up, anyway. Just rest and get better. Olivia is fine. Go back to sleep."

  As Darcy watched, a wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows and her jaw clenched as she tried to fight back frustrated tears. Unlike Anne, she wanted to get up, to take care of her baby but her body wouldn't let her. Darcy had argued that many children were raised by servants and he'd rather Olivia had a wet nurse now and alive mother later but his arguments seemed to fall on deaf ears.

  "Elizabeth, don't get upset. Please don't," he pleaded. "She's fine. Do you want to hold her?"

  "She cries when I hold her," Elizabeth said in a ragged voice.

  "No, she doesn't. Not always." He laid the sleeping baby on the mattress between them and stretched out so he faced Elizabeth. "See – she's not crying. And I don't want you to cry, either. Please don't. You're not supposed to get upset."

  "I feel so helpless," she confessed. "So useless."

  "You're alive and you're getting better. Olivia is alive and healthy."

  He reached over the baby, putting his hand carefully on the soft dip of her waist. "And I love you. How is that useless?"

  Elizabeth exhaled, studying the baby's face. "You wanted a son. You wanted to go to Kent with Georgiana… I did not want you to have to choose because of me."

  "First, I'm so disappointed with my Olivia that her nursemaid can't pry her out of my arms. And second, I would not tell you yet, but I'm not sure I am going to Kent."

  "Have you changed your mind?"

  "I don't think I ever decided. I've been thinking about many things in the last few days but it's really a simple question. Do I want to leave my family? No, I don't."

  "Why?" she asked in her softest voice, putting one hand on the baby.

  "I married you because I wanted you. Because you were my friend. And because I was afraid to be alone. I know I made it sound very practical when I proposed but nobility was the farthest thing from my mind. For the first time in my life, I was being completely selfish. If I'd been acting in your best interest, I'd have gotten you to your family."

  "Tell me you love me," he requested quietly. "Just say it again. Now. I-I want to hear it. I need to. There are so many things I need to tell you… When you're better. About Georgie. And Anne. And Lillian. And us. And others things. And I'm so afraid you'll hate me."

  He waited, but she didn't answer. He studied Olivia and shifted his hand nervously on Elizabeth's waist, toying with her nightgown. When he finally worked up the nerve to look at her, her eyes were closed and her chest was rising and falling slowly as she slept.

  *~~*~~*

  The first thing Darcy heard was Georgiana whispering, asking urgently if someone was all right. When he heard Elizabeth's answer that she was fine, Darcy sat up, trying to figure out what she was doing in the hall. She could hardly get out of bed without help.

  "Can you walk?" Georgie whispered and there was a pause before she asked, "May I help you?"

  The door squeaked open and Georgiana entered, helping Elizabeth to make steps. She looked so small against her, very fragile, but his sister had always been good with fragile things. If she'd really been injured, Georgiana would have already raised the alarm.

  Although she'd refused any contact with Elizabeth since the baby had been born two weeks ago, Darcy knew he quietly kept tabs on her. He'd woken more than once to see Georgie in the bedroom doorway at night, silently watching Elizabeth as she slept.

  Curious, he laid back on the sofa, concealed by the darkness.

  Elizabeth climbed onto the mattress. "Should I get someone?" The girl asked, pulling the blankets over her.

  "No, I just got dizzy," she answered, sounding embarrassed.

  "You're not supposed to get up. You're supposed to stay in bed. The doctor said so. Brother would-" Georgiana turned her head toward the sofa and Darcy quickly closed his eyes. "Brother would have a fit if he knew."

  "I did not want to wake him. He does not get enough sleep."

  Georgiana was usually at ease with Elizabeth but she seemed awkward now. Afraid. Guilty.

  "You're really alright? What if- What if I wake Fitzwilliam but I won't tell him you got up? I'll just say you need him."

  "Georgiana, I am fine. Please let him sleep."

  The girl didn't answer but sat on the wooden chair beside the bed, shifting awkwardly. "What was it you needed? Why were you up?"

  "I wanted to check on Jane. I had a dream…"

  "She is fine. It's the medicine," she assured her. "The medicine gives you the dreams. Anne had them. You have to remember that they're not real."

  "I will try," she answered as if Georgiana's innocent advice was the answer to all things. "You can go back to your room. I am sorry I upset you."

  "Do you promise to stay in bed? Brother won't forgive me if something happens to you. He loves you."

  "I will stay in bed," she promised, sounding tired. "Will you come see me tomorrow? I miss talking with you."

  "The doctor says I'm not allowed."

  Darcy inhaled in surprise. That was a lie or at least a twist on the truth. No one was supposed to upset Elizabeth, but the doctor had forbidden no one from seeing her. She couldn't have Jane bouncing all over her but she could sit up and have a conversation with Georgiana.

  "If I would ask the doctor or your brother, would they say you couldn't see me?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

  "No," The girl confessed sheepishly.

  "Has something happene
d that you are angry with me?"

  "You were very sick, you almost died."

  "But I didn't die, Georgiana. I am still here," she reminded her.

  The girl shifted her feet against the rungs. "I dreamt you did," she confessed. "That you bled to death. I had dreamed it for weeks before the baby came."

  "But you just told me dreams are not real."

  "Maybe this one was," she said softly. "Because you were bleeding and stopped breathing. Fitzwilliam was terrified."

  "He had not slept or shaved in a week. I can imagine."

  "He hadn't. I've never seen him so upset. Not even when Anne died. He was… He asked me to do something so simple and I just couldn't. I stood there like a coward, and then I- I just ran. If you hadn't breathed again, he never would have forgiven me."

  There was a long pause and then she asked, "Georgiana, you keep saying your brother would not forgive you if I had died. Do you think he has forgiven you for what happened to Anne?"

  Darcy stiffened. As he strained to hear their hushed voices, his breathing seemed too loud, so he tried to breathe quieter and then his heartbeat seemed too loud.

  "I promised I'd watch Anne while he was away. I wasn't watching her. I knew she was upset about the baby. I knew she was thinking of death, like before."

  "How could you know what she was thinking, Georgiana? Did she tell you?"

  "No." Her silhouette shrugged. "I just knew. And I had dreams, just like with Aunt Catherine. Anyway, Brother is used to being disappointed with me."

  "When you ask if he is disappointed with you, what does he say?"

  "He says no, he's not. That we're different but he's proud of me."

  "Maybe you should listen to him."

  "Maybe there's a reason he wanted another family so much," Georgiana said softly. The chair squeaked tensely.

  "He loves you, Georgiana. He will always love you. Do not underestimate him."

  There was no response.

  "If you leave all doors open and play your pianoforte, I can hear it," she asked after several seconds of silence. "Will you play Mozart?"

  "Yes," Georgiana agreed.

  He saw his sister stand and adjust Elizabeth's blankets again before leaving quietly.