by Ola Wegner
She rolled her eyes. “You are also very modest. I thank you for this, but truly, it was not necessary. I have received so much already.”
“Those were family jewels. I wanted you to have something from me.”
She touched the cool gold of the necklace. “It is lovely. I thank you.”
“And I thank you,” he said quietly.
She gave him a questioning look.
“For not believing the maid.”
“Her claims are ridiculous. Not ever for one second I thought that she was speaking the truth. I knew that you would never do such a thing. You are a man of honour, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
He leaned forward and cupped her cheek.
“Let us go to bed,” he proposed. “It was an emotional day. You should rest. Tomorrow will not be pleasant for either of us.”
***
It had been a long time since the drawing room at Pemberley gathered so many people. The parson, Mr Thorn, sat together with his wife by one of the many smaller tables. Mr Pierson, the steward, along with the butler, Mr Haynes, and the housekeeper, Mrs Reynolds, were seated all together on the long sofa. Elizabeth and Georgiana occupied the love seat in the centre of the room. Both of them were dressed very elegantly. Elizabeth was clothed in a fine silk purple dress with black trimmings while Georgiana wore a deep blue gown which beautifully contrasted with her pale skin. Elizabeth wore a necklace which she had received from her husband, as well as the diamond bracelet and earrings which once belonged to her mother-in-law. He hair was pulled in a tall chignon which gave her a mature and chic look. Drew insisted on her putting on her very best attire today, hoping that she would manage to intimidate everyone with her good looks. Darcy was the only one who was standing. He took his usual place by the mantelpiece.
The footmen distributed cold drinks while the company spoke about the weather, state of the roads and other superficial but mundane subjects.
It was clear that Mr Pierson, Mr Haynes and Mrs Reynolds did not feel quite comfortable in the role of the guests, but Elizabeth insisted for them to be here. She wished to have as many witnesses as possible to what was about to happen.
Finally, the door opened, and Lucy Gibson entered guarded by the under butler.
The girl’s eyes swept over the people gathered around her. She was not in the least scared. The look she gave to the company was one of defiance, not fear.
Elizabeth noticed that Darcy could barely look at the girl. His expression was one of utter revulsion. Elizabeth rose to her feet and came to stand directly in front of the maid.
“We have asked you here to allow you the opportunity to reveal to us who is the father of your child. If we know his name we shall be able to help you in your difficult situation.”
The maid clenched her red hands in front of herself but she lifted her chin high. “I told you yesterday. Mr Darcy fathered my child.”
Elizabeth had to admire her gut.
“How dare you to say such things? For all the good which came to you in this home,” the butler, Mr. Haynes, demanded, his words sharp.
“It is not too late to back out,” Mr Thorn said, his voice much gentler. “If you reveal to us the identity of your child’s father, we shall help you.”
“Master Darcy fathered my child. He forced himself on me in the stables. Many times.”
Elizabeth turned her head and nodded at one of the footmen. The servant left but soon returned, followed by a tall young man and Mr Dixon, the equerry.
Elizabeth smiled at the older man. “Sit down, please, Mr. Dixon. We are happy that you could join us.”
Mr Dixon murmured his greetings to everyone and perched himself unsurely on the edge of one of the chairs. He looked ill at ease in this situation, attempting to hide his tall riding boots underneath the chair.
“Do you know him?” Elizabeth asked Lucy, pointing to the young man.
The girl watched the stable hand with rapt attention. Her eyes were betraying her. Slowly she shook her head.
“It is Joe Bright,” Elizabeth said. “He works in the stables. We have reasons to believe that he is the father of your child.”
“I do not go to the stables,” she said.
Elizabeth rose an enquiring eyebrow. “You do not? You have just said that my husband forced himself on you in the stables.”
Lucy looked at Joe. Her eyes were begging him to protect her.
Elizabeth turned to the stable hand. “Do you know this girl?”
“No,” Joe said.
“I remember the country dance in Kempton last year,” Mrs Thorn joined the conversation. “You danced there with many maids from the manor, I believe.”
Joe’s eyes rested on Lucy but only fleetingly. “I might have danced with her once or twice, but that is all.”
Lucy gasped audibly. Her hands closed in red fists on her sides.
“I see,” Elizabeth said. “I must inform you that there were witnesses who saw both of you being involved in carnal activities last November. Right there in the stables.”
“Now boy, tell us the truth,” Mr Thorn encouraged him. “Have you bedded this girl?”
“I might have once or twice,” Joe admitted reluctantly. “She has no proof that her bastard is mine. If she opened her legs for me she might have done it for others as well.”
The girl ran to him and started hitting him with her fists and later attempted to scratch his face in a furious rage. It took the under butler and footman to pull her away from him.
Lucy was crying uncontrollably while Joe stepped as far from her as he could.
Elizabeth returned to her seat. She felt that her role had ended. She looked over at the parson, who rose to his feet and came to stand between the maid and her lover.
“There are two reasonable possibilities which I can see. First of all you two can marry.”
“I will not marry her,” Joe interrupted him.
“Then Lucy must return to her family, as it is perfectly understandable that she cannot stay in here.”
The girl shook her head. “I cannot return home. My father will kill me.”
“There is a poorhouse in Matlock run by Viscountess Castlereagh, our cousin,” Elizabeth offered. “She will be willing to help you if we ask her. You shall give birth there and later you can give away the child or keep it. We shall try to find you employment once you can work again.”
The girl looked around the people gathered around her. “Can I… Can I stay here?”
“That it is absolutely out of the question,” Mrs Reynolds said.
The girl was silent for a while. “I want money,” she said. “I want one hundred pounds, otherwise I will tell everyone that Mr Darcy of Pemberley is the father of my child, and who threw me out of his house once he learned about my condition.”
Mr Thorn came to stand by her side, looking into her face. “Are you stupid, girl?” he asked. “After all your lies we still want to offer you help and you reject it in a most despicable manner. Do you realize that you have just acknowledged in front of many witnesses that it was that boy, Joe Bright, who fathered your child? Do you think that anyone would take your word over the word of one of the most respectable landowners in northern England? You have two choices. You can go to the poorhouse in Matlock or beg somewhere in the streets. Think about your child. Not only about yourself.”
Lucy hung her head down. “I will go to Matlock,” she said.
Darcy took a step forward. He was not looking at the girl but he settled his eyes on the under butler. “Foster, please make sure that she leaves this house today. I do not want to see her ever again.”
“Yes, Master,” the under butler said, and taking the maid firmly by the arm, led her out of the drawing room. She attempted to call her lover’s name, but Joe was deaf to her pleas.
Darcy moved to stand in front of Joe Bright. “You will leave today as well. You shall receive three months’ salary but no recommendations.” He turned his head to look at the equerry. “Mr Dixon, you shall see
to it.”
Mr Dixon stood up. “Yes, Mr Darcy. You can count on me.”
Darcy looked at Joe. “Be gone from my sight,” he said. “I will not keep a man who seduced the maid, refusing to take responsibility for his actions.”
One of the footmen moved forward, prepared to remove Joe by force, but the stable hand left on his own without saying a single word of goodbye to anyone.
Darcy faced the people gathered in the room. “I would like to thank you all for your help on this matter.”
Mrs Reynolds was shaking her head. “I cannot believe her. That girl. What was she thinking?”
“I do believe that it was that stable hand who talked her into it,” Mrs Thorn said.
“It does not explain her behaviour,” her husband declared. “She is not right in her head.”
Elizabeth stood up to her feet. “I think that we should end this unpleasant meeting with some tea and refreshments. Mrs Reynolds and Mr Haynes as well as Mr Pierson, I do hope that you shall stay with us as well. Your help was truly invaluable.”
The tea was served and they all drank. Mrs Thorn and Elizabeth attempted to push the conversation into safe, neutral waters. They were rather successful at that. Soon the company was discussing the details of the upcoming summer fair which was to take place in the village.
Chapter Sixteen
Elizabeth watched her husband as he was tying his neckcloth. He stood in front of the mirror which hung above the mantelpiece, inspecting his reflection from time to time to be certain that he was precise.
This morning she enjoyed breakfast in bed, the privilege of married women. She munched on a piece of fruit, her eyes following Darcy around the room.
“What are your plans for today?” Darcy asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“I think that I shall rest,” she said, smiling sweetly at him.
Her words brought a deep frown onto his forehead. “Are you well?”
“Quite well, only tired. It was quite an emotional day yesterday, was it not?”
Darcy extended his hand, touching her cheek. He looked deeply into her eyes.
“It was. You were quite remarkable. You protected me.”
“I think that you were perfectly capable of protecting yourself against those most unfair allegations. I only wished to indicate to everyone that I did not believe in that girl’s lies, not even for a minute.”
“I will never forget this,” he vowed in all seriousness. Leaning forward, he kissed her on the forehead.
As soon as Darcy was gone, Elizabeth rang for Drew.
The maid entered with a smile on her face. “I think that the cook would like to know if you liked the fruit salad, my lady,” she said.
“It was delicious. However, there is a certain matter which worries me greatly.”
Drew took away the tray which rested on Elizabeth’s lap. “How can I help you?”
Elizabeth looked down. “I have noticed some bleeding this morning,” she revealed.
Drew gasped in horror.
“It was very slight but noticeable,” Elizabeth added.
Her words instantly calmed the maid. “It happens, my lady. I remember when I was carrying Tommy, there was very light bleeding in the beginning. Are you in any pain?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No pain.”
“That’s good.”
“Please, Drew, do not mention any of it to Mr Darcy.”
“Of course.”
Elizabeth watched Drew’s face. The maid appeared perfectly serene, which improved her own spirits vastly. If Drew was convinced that it was normal, she would try not to concern herself with this.
“Still, I do believe that you should not walk too much today,” the maid cautioned her.
Elizabeth nodded her head. “I have already informed Mr Darcy that I am tired after yesterday’s ordeal and wish to rest.”
“That is excellent,” Drew praised before putting a smile on her face. “Do you request anything, mistress? Some books, perhaps?”
“No, thank you. I think I shall try to go back to sleep.”
“I will make sure that no one interrupts you, then,” Drew said. She took the breakfast tray and left the room, leaving Elizabeth alone.
***
Elizabeth slept for several hours. She woke up to a light headache and the sight of an elderly woman sitting on a chair beside the bed.
She blinked her eyes, thinking that the woman would disappear. She did not.
“Good morning,” she said unsurely, sitting up.
The stranger smiled, her wrinkled face lighting up.
Drew walked in. “My lady, it is good that you are awake. I was afraid that I would have to interrupt your rest.”
“Drew, who is she?” Elizabeth asked.
“This is Mrs Clarke,” the maid said, as if everything should be perfectly clear.
Elizabeth smiled at the older lady. “Have we been introduced?”
Instead of answering, Mrs Clare rose from her place and began pulling away the sheets from the bed, uncovering Elizabeth’s legs.
“Mrs Clarke is the best midwife in the neighbourhood,” Drew explained. “She agreed to come from the village to see you, my lady.”
“You promised not to say anything to Mr Darcy!” Elizabeth exclaimed as the midwife was lifting her nightgown.
“I did not. Master knows nothing about it. I asked Mrs Reynolds and she organized everything.”
Mrs Clarke patted Elizabeth’s knee, looking at her expectantly.
“Open your legs, Mrs Darcy,” Drew instructed.
Elizabeth did as she was told. She felt extremely uncomfortable having a complete stranger touch her between her legs and on her lower belly.
“Any cramps?” Mrs Clarke asked, voicing herself for the first time.
“No.”
The midwife narrowed her eyes at her. “You sure?”
Elizabeth nodded her head. “Yes.”
“All is well,” Mrs Clarke announced, drawing the nightshirt back in its rightful place. “The babe is just settling in. To be safe, you should rest today and keep your husband away from you for a few nights.”
“I understand.”
The woman began gathering her belongings.
“Thank you for coming, Mrs Clarke,” she said.
“I would not come for such a small thing if it was not for the new Mrs Darcy,” the midwife muttered. “Pemberley needs strong, healthy heirs.”
Mrs Clarke was putting on her bonnet when without knocking Darcy walked in.
His eyes centred on Elizabeth. “Why have you not told me that you felt unwell?” he demanded.
“Fitzwilliam, it is all well. Truly. I am well,” Elizabeth attempted to assure him, putting a smile on her face.
“I can see that there are things going behind my back,” he said, looking accusingly at the guest.
“Master Darcy should be quiet,” Mrs Clarke said with force. She was about half Darcy’s size, but to Elizabeth, she appeared rather formidable. “You acted the same way when you were born, crying so loud that you drove your nursemaid mad.”
“How is my wife?” he asked in a calmer voice.
“She is well, the same as the babe. Mrs Darcy is small but appears strong. She should do fine when the time comes. She must rest, and no loving for another week or so just to be safe.”
“Thank you, Mrs Clarke,” he said, visibly relieved. He reached to his pocket to take out money but she stopped him.
“Your father paid me enough the day your sister was born. I have no need for money for the rest of my life.”
Mrs Clarke went to the maid, giving her a small package. “Brew it for your lady every day, once a day. One spoon of herbs for each pint of hot water, but drink only when it is lukewarm but not cold.”
“Drew, please, walk Mrs Clarke out,” Elizabeth said. It was her role now to placate Darcy, as he was not in the best of moods.
Drew and the midwife left, leaving them all alone.
Darcy began
pacing, walking the length of the large room in just several long strides back and forth. Elizabeth thought that it was most prudent to let him cool off a little before speaking to him.
“I do not understand why you did not tell me that you felt unwell,” he said, attempting to keep his voice calm. “I had to learn from the housekeeper that my wife needed to see a midwife.”
“It was only a precaution. I bled a little in the morning and Drew thought that it would be a good idea to—” She could not finish because he interrupted her.
“You bled? And told me nothing?” he nearly roared.
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. She had never seen him in such a state of wrath. Elizabeth looked at his hands. They were shaking.
Elizabeth climbed out of the bed and rushed to him. Taking one of his hands in both of hers, she looked up at him. “It was truly nothing. Drew knew right away that it was something perfectly normal in the early days. She brought Mrs Clarke to see me as a precaution only.”
She could see that slowly but surely he was calming down. “Please, Fitzwilliam, I never wished for you to worry about me.”
He looked at her as if she was mentally deranged. “It is my child and you are my wife. I have every right to be worried about you, both of you. Please, promise to me that you shall never hide anything concerning your health from me.”
Elizabeth thought that he was vastly exaggerating, but she also knew that it was not the moment to oppose him.
“I promise,” she said. She brought his hand to her mouth and kissed it.
“We should put you to bed,” he said in his usual gentle tone. He picked her in his arms and carried her to bed, kissing her forehead, nose and lips.
“Stay with me,” she said.
He removed his shoes and coat before stretching on top of the bed covers next to her. They stared in each other’s eyes, facing each other.
“Are you truly well now?” he asked.
She put her hand on his cheek. “I am.”
“Thank you, God.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes, forcing her breathing to even out. He rose from the bed. He pulled the covers higher over her arms and kissed her forehead. As she heard his retreating steps, she wondered whether his reaction today was something to be expected or rather excessive. Darcy appeared to be truly terrified. She had rarely ever seen him so very disturbed.