by Linda Wells
Bingley pulled in his line and cast again. He thought of his inability to stay with Jane. “I envy you your marriage.”
“Are you unhappy?” Darcy asked with concern.
“No, not at all.” He smiled. “I have exactly what I always wished for. Peace, serenity, but sometimes I look at you and Elizabeth, and how you are so . . . intense together in every aspect. You both feel so much, and your love is undisguised when you are at home, well, anywhere really.”
“Should it be? Where else should we be open in our feelings if not at home?”
“I am putting this badly.”
“Yes, you are.”
“We both married for love.”
“Yes.”
“But yours seems so much deeper.”
Darcy deliberated how to answer him. He knew very well that their marriages were vastly different; in fact he knew that his marriage was exceptionally unusual in society as a whole. But how could he explain the power of his and Elizabeth’s relationship to someone who would likely never experience or even understand such a bond? Who in fact was not capable of achieving it, not necessarily because he was a lesser person, but because he and Jane were such different people? He settled on an answer that he hoped would bring Bingley comfort without sounding superior.
“Ours has been tested through many trials. It forced us to grow and learn to support each other, perhaps faster than a typically married couple would. Certainly your experience with Miss Bingley has been a trial for your marriage. Has it not forced you to cling together, support each other?”
Bingley looked at him with surprise. “Yes, it has. We have had to rely on each other and learn to speak our feelings.”
Darcy smiled, relieved that his words had the intended result. “You see, you and Jane are growing stronger together. It will simply take you longer. Do not be in a hurry to suffer, enjoy your peace. And you should also remember that although my marriage appears different than yours, you are still in a love match, which is far more than the majority of couples can claim in our society.”
“Thank you Darcy.”
Darcy hesitated, he disliked the subject but he knew his friend had no one else to talk to about it, and he did need to know the answers, so he asked, “How are things with Miss Bingley?” He watched as Bingley’s happy face darkened.
He sighed. “I do not know. After her latest performance in London. . .” He looked at Darcy, “You have heard about it?” Darcy shook his head. Bingley sighed again. “After she left Lyndon Hall she was determined to take part in the Season. She bought several gowns, and chose a white one, and followed the scandalous practice of wetting down the fabric to make it appear . . . transparent.” He said the words as if they had a bad taste. “She somehow found some friends to escort her to a ball, and when her wrap was removed, her appearance caused such an uproar that she was forced to leave immediately. The carriage had already left, not expecting them back for hours. Her friends denied knowing her and refused to help, and she was forced to walk through the streets of London until she finally found a hack to take her back to the Hurst’s home where she was staying. A notice was in all of the gossip columns the next day about her, and Hurst demanded that she leave his home. It was finally clear to her that she could never live in London again, and she returned to Scarborough. My aunt took her in on the condition that she finds her own home immediately. She has taken a cottage with a small staff. She is humiliated.”
Darcy listened to the tale, fascinated. “And will she be able to maintain herself in this place with the income from her fortune?”
“Yes, if she lives modestly. I doubt that she will ever marry.” Bingley shook his head at his sister’s disgrace.
“I am sorry, Bingley.” Darcy was at a loss. Caroline’s behaviour was all of her own doing; she had been given endless opportunities to mend her ways. He deeply suspected her sanity.
“Well, there is nothing to be done for it now.” He smiled slightly at Darcy, “But the experience has made the Hurst marriage stronger, and I see now that it has had the same effect on mine. So maybe Caroline has done some good in the world, if not for her.”
Darcy shook his head. “You are the eternal optimist.” He wondered if Bingley was being wilfully blind. He hesitated again, but knew that he had to ask. “Have you heard any more of her feelings towards . . .” He stopped.
“You and Elizabeth?” Bingley asked. Darcy nodded. “She did say something to Louisa when she was in town, speaking of you with great, almost possessive affection.”
“And of Elizabeth?” He demanded.
Bingley paused. “She indicated that Elizabeth was not worthy of you.”
Darcy’s chest tightened. “Elizabeth and I both heard the knob on our chamber door being turned her last night at Lyndon Hall.” Darcy closed his eyes. “Please keep us informed of her movements.” He opened them again to see Bingley watching him with a worried expression.
“I will Darcy, I understand now.”
Darcy gripped his arm and said very seriously. “She is unbalanced. Watch her. You must not let this rest.”
JANE, ELIZABETH, AND GEORGIANA sat together, cooing at baby Angela. “Lizzy, you are enormous!”
“Thank you, Jane.” Elizabeth said wryly, attempting to find a comfortable position.
“Oh, you know that was not an insult!” She touched her sister’s belly. “Are you sure you are not due today?”
“I wish I were.” She smiled, her relationship with her sister was warm, but she doubted it would ever be as close as it once was again, but she loved her, and that was what mattered. “Please distract me ladies. Talk of something besides my expanding waist!”
“We have decided on a wedding date.” Georgiana burst out. She was dying to tell them. “I received a letter from Alex this morning. He spoke with his parents and visited his attorney in town for the settlement, and will be back here to meet with William in eight days.” She smiled with anticipation. “We will marry in the Pemberley chapel at the end of September, on the 27th.” She looked at Elizabeth. “That should give you time to recover from the birth, will it not?”
“Oh yes, that should give me at least six weeks. I am sorry that Richard and Kathleen will be unable to attend, as she is due about then. Just how elaborate a ceremony do you wish for, Georgiana?”
“I want a wedding just like yours, Elizabeth!” She effused.
Elizabeth tilted her head and looked at her sister, her brow furrowed. “I truly doubt that, Georgiana.”
“No, I mean very simple. I do not want hordes of people, and as both of us have very small families, I just want us and a simple wedding breakfast.”
She nodded and smiled. “That sounds lovely. I think that we can manage that very nicely.”
“Papa will be visiting us then.” Jane said quietly, and then looked up to meet Elizabeth’s eyes. “Will he be welcome at Pemberley?”
She looked at her steadily for a moment. “Yes, through letters, my relationship and subsequently William’s tolerance of him has improved. You must realize that it takes a great deal of time to heal the very deep wounds inflicted upon a person due to the selfish, deliberate behaviour of another.” She watched her sister’s expression as the words sunk in. “Trust is a precious gift which must be earned.” Jane blushed and looked down. Elizabeth hoped her point was made.
Georgiana’s beaming smile suddenly disappeared. “Do you think, Elizabeth, do you think that your father should . . . should he know about Alex? I know that it is a great secret, but . . . perhaps they should truly meet.”
Elizabeth looked at Jane who raised her shoulders. “I really do not know. I have always left it to Alex’s discretion who should know. One thing that I do expect is Mama to see the resemblance between the two of them. She mentioned it when they first met, but she was distracted by Jane’s wedding announcement and then he left. The second time she saw him was at Jane’s wedding, and she was so overwhelmed then that she did not say anything at all. This time, it is not o
ne of her daughters marrying. She will have time to observe; especially now when she and Papa are courting, I suspect that his resemblance to the Thomas Bennet of her youth will strike her very quickly.”
Georgiana nodded. “I will speak to him about this when he comes. Perhaps it is time to reveal the truth. We are all bound to see each other from time to time, and it would be odd if all of us but your parents know the truth.” She looked at the two sisters. It was a discussion that they all knew would arise eventually. It seemed that the time had finally come. They could not ignore the irony that Mr. Bennet would be present at his son’s wedding.
A WEEK LATER, Darcy and Elizabeth sat in their imposing chair in the master bedchamber. The doors to the balcony were wide open; the night breeze blew the drapes and helped cool the perpetually hot Elizabeth. Despite her warmth, she would not relinquish her favourite activity, cuddling with Darcy. They sat together, she in a night dress, he in a shirt and breeches, their eyes closed, when suddenly the distinct sound of “pop” as from a cork rent the air.
Their eyes opened and Darcy looked at her with confusion. “Did you hear that?”
“Yes.” She said, equally confused.
“Darling, I might sound foolish, but I swear that sound came from you.” He regarded her closely.
“I would concur. Suddenly I feel like a bottle of champagne.” She bit her lip. “Do you think that it could be starting?”
“Do you feel anything?” He asked urgently.
“No, nothing at all.”
“Are you sure?”
“William, I think that I would know if I felt something, and I have no doubt that I will not hesitate to express it quite clearly when I do.” She said, exasperated with his silly questions.
He grinned. “That is true. Should I call the doctor?”
“Well, he has been enjoying his stay for a fortnight now. Why not ask his opinion?” She smiled and shook her head.
Darcy extricated himself from the chair and walked to the door. He told the footman in the hallway to summon the doctor. Doctor Howard arrived and hearing their story agreed that labour had begun, but it could be hours before anything of significance might occur. There was no need to panic.
The midwife was summoned, and the doctor recommended that Elizabeth attempt to sleep until the pains began. Darcy helped her onto the bed in the Mistress’ bedchamber, which had been prepared for the birth, and climbed in next to her, spooning his body with hers. He wrapped his arms around her, and held her hands, caressing them. They remained silent, but he could feel her body trembling next to his.
“Lizzy, are you frightened?” He spoke softly to her.
In a shaking voice she whispered. “Yes.”
“I will stay with you through all of this, darling. What frightens you?” He was trying his hardest to be comforting, when in his heart, he was just as afraid. Childbirth always carried a great deal of risk for mother and child. He entwined his fingers with hers, lending his strength with his grasp.
“I was there, and saw everything that happened with Jane, it is just . . . I suppose it is the unknown.” She confessed.
Darcy closed his eyes and tried to ignore his own growing fear. “Lizzy, I want you to know how much I love you. How much I need you, and how very proud I am of you.” He hugged her to him and kissed her.
She felt his damp face pressed to hers, and felt her courage rising. “William, I know that you are worried about my survival, please do not. I will be well. I promise that if you stay by my side in this, I will never leave you alone. I love you.” She squeezed the hands clutching her tightly. As always, she became stronger when she felt his need for her assurance.
They stayed in their embrace for hours, eventually falling into a light sleep. The cramps became pains, and the pains became excruciating. True to his word, Darcy stayed with her throughout. At first he supported her as they walked the hallways, then held her hands and took the punishment of her grip as each contraction came and went. Jane wiped her brow, brought her water, and comforted her as much as she could; telling her what to expect next, but Darcy was not relinquishing his position of primary caretaker for a moment. Jane watched the couple with admiration.
The midwife, Mrs. Jones, arrived and was not at all pleased to see him in the room. “Dr. Howard, I hope that you will ask this man to leave us. This is no place for him.”
Darcy did not take kindly to being spoken of as if he were not there. “Madam, I appreciate your concern for my behaviour, but I assure you, I will be remaining for the duration.” He fixed his most imperious glare upon her and she did not even flinch.
Dr. Howard watched the standoff for a few moments. “Mrs. Jones, I have seen Mr. Darcy’s reaction to times of stress concerning his wife. I will vouch for his steadiness.”
She humphed. “Then you can move him out of my way when he faints!” She directed another scathing look at Darcy and began muttering under her breath as she set out her tools of the trade, oils for soothing and lubrication, snuff to help with pushing and expelling the afterbirth, wine and a bottle of laudanum if Elizabeth became hysterical, forceps, a block of wood wrapped in cloth, twine and scissors, and many other equally mysterious and somewhat frightening items that kept the Darcys hands tightly entwined. Elizabeth, at least, had seen the array before with Jane, but Darcy was a novice, and deeply frightened. He prayed through each contraction that God give Elizabeth the strength to endure the pain and survive along with the babe. He prayed for the strength to help her as best he could.
When the midwife finally declared her ready to push, there was no question of sending him from the room. His glare matched Mrs. Jones’ for fire and obstinacy. After examining her progress one last time, unhappily with Darcy present, she directed Elizabeth to rise from the bed and seat herself in the birthing chair, but it was Darcy who managed the movement. He helped her from the bed, he walked her to the chair, he arranged her nightdress, and he determined where he would station himself and how he would support her, sitting behind, his arm around her shoulders. Jane held one hand while he gripped the other. Her screams of pain were shattering to him, but he forced himself to encourage her cries. He resisted the urge to run away, she needed him.
Elizabeth completely focused on his eyes. It hurt so much. She listened to his directions, reminding her to breathe, and demanding that she cry out. She wished to spare him but he would not allow it. He forced himself to suppress the desperate need to make the pain stop, he knew that it was natural, but it killed him to see her tears and be helpless to stop it.
He stayed there, moving his body so that he could stare into her eyes. His deep, ever present, loving gaze held her, strengthened her, and his words of encouragement and devotion lifted her through that final, thankful moment when the intense pain suddenly ended, and the baby was born. Darcy heard none of the exclamations of the others in the room, including the baby's strong cry. He was completely concentrated on Elizabeth. When her expression of excruciating pain changed to one of undeniable relief, his heart soared. It was over. He joyfully took her face in his hands and kissed her repeatedly, their tears mixing together as they celebrated with relief and whispered declarations of love the end of the ordeal. It was only then that they looked up to see Doctor Howard holding a bundle in his arms and a happy smile on his face. “Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. You have a son!”
The baby, big by any standards, but enormous considering the size of his mother, was washed and handed to Elizabeth. She lifted the cloth and examined his face, the shock of dark curls on his head, and the suddenly open eyes, so deep, dark, and brown, and she cried. “He is you, William!”
She beamed up at Darcy, and he smiled; that dazzling, dimpled smile, and wrapped his arm around her. He tentatively stroked his son’s hand, and delighted in his instant grasp of his finger.
“Oh Lizzy, he is both of us.” He whispered. Darcy tore his shining, teary eyes from his son and gazed at his glowing, exhausted wife. “You have never been more beautiful, my lo
ve.” He kissed her gently.
Elizabeth laughed and stroked his stubbled face. “And you, my dear love, have never been so blind!” He laughed and lovingly kissed her again.
“Enough of that, sir.” Dr. Howard said with a grin. “Mrs. Darcy still has some work to do.” Darcy broke away and looked at Elizabeth, whose face reflected the pain of a new cramp.
“What is wrong?” He took her hand and watched as the baby was whisked out of her arms by Mrs. Reynolds. “Lizzy?” He looked back at the doctor.
“Nothing is wrong, she must deliver the afterbirth.” The midwife massaged her belly and with a cry and one last push it was over.
Elizabeth opened her eyes to Darcy’s worried gaze and smiled wearily. Dr. Howard and Jane left the room. The new parents stayed gazing at each other, oblivious to the midwife cleaning Elizabeth. After a fresh nightdress was slipped over her and the padding tied in place, Mrs. Jones said that Elizabeth was ready to move to the bed. She began to stand, but Darcy refused to let her move.
“William, I can walk a few steps!” She protested.
“No, Mrs. Darcy. You will not.” Before she could say more he carefully lifted her, holding her close to his chest, and kissed her forehead. “You have done quite enough for one day, my lovely wife.”
She cuddled against him and smiled. “Will you remain a mother hen forever, Mr. Darcy?”
He smiled down into her sleepy face. “Forever.”
Darcy carefully settled Elizabeth into the bed, and directed Mrs. Reynolds to place the baby back into her arms. He then walked around the bed, kicked off his slippers and reclined beside her, wrapping his two most precious possessions in his protective embrace. The three lay with their eyes closed. “You all may leave us now.” His whispered command arose.