Mrs. Reynolds had been in service with the family since Darcy had been a lad of four years, and while Elizabeth could easily tell that the elderly woman was a very warm, amiable lady, Pemberley’s mistress soon found herself adding patience to the housekeeper’s endless list of attributes, as well. Mrs. Reynolds was of great assistance to Elizabeth as she applied herself to her new responsibilities. Indeed, the kindly housekeeper spent a great deal of time assisting her in any way she could and, at Elizabeth’s prodding, even went so far as to regale her new mistress with boyhood tales of Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam. As a result, Elizabeth took great delight in teasing her husband over his youthful antics. This form of torment always led a petulant Darcy to grumble about having a few choice words of chastisement for the elderly woman.
* * *
The months passed, and soon spring turned to summer. With the warmer season came the added responsibility of overseeing the fields after the spring planting, which would take up much of Darcy’s time. It was not uncommon for the master of Pemberley to depart shortly after breakfast, not to return until an hour or so before supper was served. Though Elizabeth would have preferred to spend her days in the company of her husband, it was not within her power to do so. As difficult as this adjustment was for Pemberley’s new mistress, she soon found much contentment and satisfaction in the society of her two younger sisters who, under her steady guidance and womanly assurance, were fast becoming promising young ladies. Pemberley’s master could not be more pleased.
Though Darcy had initially experienced some trepidation when he had first learned of Elizabeth’s pregnancy, it had quickly given way to delight at the prospect of becoming a father. As Elizabeth’s slender body slowly increased, Darcy’s joy became such that he did not feel the least bit inclined to dwell upon the moment when his wife would have to give birth. By the time August arrived, however, Elizabeth’s size had increased to substantial proportions, forcing Darcy to finally give thought to the niggling fears he had, until that time, successfully managed to push to the back of his mind. With each passing day, he began to experience more concern for his wife, especially as he could not help noticing how she now found certain tasks, such as walking out for any distance or ascending the stairs to her room, to be more of a challenge. Darcy became on edge for Elizabeth’s safety and, as a result, took great pains to ensure someone was there to watch over her on those occasions when he was unable to accompany her. Though this precaution did go a long way in appeasing Darcy’s worry over her immediate safety and comfort, it did very little to free his mind from dwelling on the dangers Elizabeth would very soon face with the birth of their child.
He remembered all too well his mother’s ordeal when she had been expecting Georgiana and, even more vividly, the long, arduous birth and heart-wrenching sorrow that had followed. Though Elizabeth was not experiencing any difficulties other than those that all healthy young women who are fast approaching their confinement have in common, Darcy’s anxiety for her multiplied. For Elizabeth’s sake, he attempted to conceal his unease as best he could, but it did not take long for his astute wife to notice her husband’s agitation.
Elizabeth sensed Darcy’s anxiety growing daily and, knowing him so well, had her suspicions regarding the cause. She became especially concerned when she noticed his distraction was such that he had resumed his old practice of staring at her from across the room, much as he had done in Hertfordshire, to the exclusion of anyone else who might also be in their company at the time. Elizabeth had asked him, on several occasions, to confide in her, to share the source of his disquiet, but Darcy simply looked at her, shook his head, and kissed her as he assured her all was well and that he was tired or distracted. Elizabeth did not believe him for a moment, and one night, as she sat at the pianoforte and played a particularly moving love song, she happened to glance up to find his gaze fixed upon her with such a look of anguish it caused her fingers to fumble upon the keys. Their eyes locked, and then Darcy quickly turned aside his head and swallowed thickly. Elizabeth turned her attention back to her music with a frown.
At the end of her song, Darcy rose and strode from the room without so much as a word or even a look to her. Elizabeth followed him to his study. Without knocking, she entered to find him standing before a large window as he looked out into the darkness. His forearm rested against one of the window’s panes, his other hand on his hip.
“Was my performance so lacking you felt the need to flee without so much as a word to me?” she asked.
Her words were teasing, but there was a seriousness to her tone that caused him to shift uncomfortably. “Nothing is wrong with your performance, I assure you,” he said in a low, almost painfully quiet voice. “I am only distracted tonight, that is all.”
She crossed the room to stand beside him and placed her hand upon his arm. “Allow me to say, Fitzwilliam, that your assurances in this quarter have come to mean very little. Will you not finally speak to me of this thing that has been weighing upon you so heavily that you would persist in concealing it from me rather than confess?”
Darcy shook his head. “In this instance, I am afraid there is nothing that can be gained from my speaking of it. Indeed, I cannot.”
Elizabeth stroked her hand over his arm and asked, “You cannot, or you will not?”
He swallowed hard then. “Elizabeth, do not ask this of me,” he said, his voice hoarse. “It is not my wish to cause you distress.”
She stared at him, her exasperation and concern at his stubbornness evident. “Fitzwilliam, you cannot possibly cause me more distress by speaking with me than you already have by your refusing to do so. By your failing to confide in me, my agitation shall only continue to increase. Can you not see this?”
She squeezed his arm gently, and Darcy ran one hand over his tired eyes. A full minute passed before he inquired, “Are you certain you truly wish to know?”
“I do,” she said, her voice earnest. “Please, speak to me.”
He sighed and, after a few moments, began to speak in a pained voice, his gaze fixed upon some imaginary point as he continued to stare out into the darkness. “Whenever I close my eyes each night, whenever I think of you during the day—which, as you must know has always been constantly—I cannot help but be reminded of the very great danger I know you shall soon have to face. In vain I have struggled to think of happier thoughts, but I cannot seem to stop myself from dwelling upon the worst. I fear for you, Elizabeth, I fear for our unborn child, and, selfish as it is, I fear for myself. There is no possible way I can continue to exist if you do not. I cannot put it any plainer than that.”
Elizabeth, thankful to have her suspicions confirmed at last, said, “Fitzwilliam, indeed, you need not trouble yourself with such thoughts. You know I shall never leave you, and certainly not like that.”
Darcy turned then and faced her, his eyes tortured. “But you and I cannot know that, Elizabeth. Not for certain.”
“No,” she said. “No one can ever know anything for certain. We can only put our faith in God and hope for the best. Fitzwilliam, my mother bore five healthy daughters, and she survived each birth with no complications whatsoever. My pregnancy, from what I understand, is much like hers. In any case, you have seen for yourself and heard the doctors’ reassurances that nothing untoward has occurred to give rise to any worry.” She paused for a moment before adding, “I am not your mother, my dearest. I am myself. Though you were quite young then, you must recognize some difference in our circumstances. Can you not?”
He pulled her into his arms. “I can,” he admitted. “I know you are not her, Elizabeth, but it is because of her that I cannot help but to think in such a manner. Believe me when I say I do not wish to dwell upon such wretched possibilities.”
“Then do not,” she commanded softly. “Do not think any longer of such things. Only have faith in me when I say to you all will be well.” He said nothing in response, and Elizabeth said, “Fitzwilliam, I am so very happy I am carrying your chil
d. I want for you to be happy, as well. We have only one short month until we shall become parents. Our privacy—our entire lives—will be greatly altered by this new life growing within me. Do not waste this precious time we have alone together with such dark thoughts. Do not dwell upon what may never come to pass. Rejoice in the knowledge that I love you and our child, and all shall be well in the end.”
Darcy nodded mutely and buried his face in her hair. Breathing deeply, he held onto her with a fervency and an emotion he had not dared in days. “Tell me again that you will not leave me, Elizabeth,” he whispered in a pleading voice.
“Never,” she promised with absolute finality. “I shall live a long, healthy life and bear you ten children, tormenting you daily with my impudence.”
Darcy laughed as he hugged her tighter.
Elizabeth smiled and placed a kiss upon his cheek. “Come,” she said. “It has been a long day, and I believe we are both in dire need of rest, my love. Let us retire and think no more of this.”
* * *
Many hours later, Darcy lay awake, unable to find repose, but, miraculously, not due to any tormenting thoughts that might have plagued him earlier. Elizabeth had been tossing in their bed for more than two hours, attempting to find a position she could abide for longer than ten minutes. The air had grown quite hot and uncharacteristically oppressive for Derbyshire, even for August, and Darcy longed to bring her some relief, though he hardly knew how. Finally, Elizabeth sat up and dropped her head into her hands. “I feel as though I will never again sleep longer than two hours altogether. I am so hot and uncomfortable, Fitzwilliam,” she whined.
Darcy sat up, as well, and rubbed her lower back. He hoped the circular motion might soothe her. “I am sorry, my love,” he said as he placed a kiss upon her exposed shoulder, where he then rested his chin. “I wish there was anything I could do to make you feel better. You know I would gladly take on your discomfort myself if it meant you would be easy. Perhaps a cool bath would do much to ease your suffering? Shall I ask Sonia to draw one for you?”
“No, it is now nearly three o’clock in the morning. Certainly, Sonia is asleep, and I would not wish to wake her, but,” Elizabeth said with a sly smile, “I do believe a swim in the lake would feel heavenly right now.” She threw off the tangled sheets with much enthusiasm, reached for her discarded shift and dressing gown, and then slid rather awkwardly from the bed.
Darcy leapt after her, and his concern for her safety returned in full force. “Elizabeth, certainly not. You shall be seen, and it could be dangerous. Do you not recall anything of our conversation? You are now heavy with child and should not be exerting yourself thus.”
“Nonsense. No one is about at this hour, and I hardly think you would allow me to go alone, in any case. The cool water shall bring me some relief, I am sure of it.” She patted her bulging stomach and grinned. “If anything, I shall be more buoyant with this ample body of mine. Indeed, I am convinced it is perfectly safe.”
Clearly unconvinced, but unwilling to argue with her, Darcy sighed. “Can I not persuade you to see reason?” he asked as Elizabeth fastened the belt of her dressing gown and busied herself by retrieving several towels from the edge of Darcy’s large copper tub.
“None whatsoever.” She smiled then arched her brow and extended her hand to him. “Come, Fitzwilliam. I suggest you make haste and dress yourself, sir. The lady of the lake beckons, and you know it is abominably rude to keep a lady waiting.”
Chapter 34
With the coming of September, so came Mrs. Bennet to Derbyshire for an extended stay under her son-in-law’s expansive roof. Much to the consternation of Pemberley’s master and mistress, Elizabeth’s mother was determined to be present for the birth of her first grandchild, whose impending arrival she did not expect until the following month. Having anticipated their wedding vows by more than a fortnight, however—and convinced their unborn child had been conceived during one of the amorous interludes preceding their marriage—Darcy and Elizabeth had decided to allow the world to believe the birth a premature one. Early births were not so uncommon, after all, and Elizabeth’s labor would take place without the presence of family members and friends and, most especially, the presence of Elizabeth’s mother.
It was not to be, however, for the prospect of spending several months among the grandeur and wealth of Pemberley’s halls and grounds proved to be far too much of a temptation for the mistress of Longbourn to pass up, and though her husband had attempted to dissuade her from making the trip, his objections only served to make her all the more determined to go. Even after Mr. Bennet informed his wife that Longbourn’s harvest would prevent his accompanying her on the two to three-day journey, and the horses would most certainly be required in the field, her resolution—and her excessive complaining—eventually won out, and in the end, her husband, now desperate for the peace and quiet her absence would afford him, sent her north to his son-in-law.
The first week of her visit was all it had promised to be. Mrs. Bennet spent the majority of her time flitting from room to room, making suggestions for various changes to the wallpaper, furniture, draperies, and floral arrangements. She even went so far as to take it upon herself to alter the menu for the evening meals. Knowing her husband to be far from pleased with the authority her mother was so brazenly assuming in his home, Elizabeth attempted to curb her behavior, but with little success. Mrs. Bennet was so full of effusions and suggestions, gossip and idle chatter, that she soon wore down her daughter, who felt more fatigued as the day of her confinement approached. That a good portion of Elizabeth’s exhaustion stemmed from her mother’s seemingly boundless supply of verbal energy did not go unnoticed by Pemberley’s vigilant staff.
Deciding it was the only way in which Elizabeth might gain a reprieve from her mother’s enthusiastic company, Mrs. Reynolds frequently insisted her mistress retire abovestairs and rest. Though she was grateful to the housekeeper for her kind solicitation, Elizabeth found she dearly missed the companionship of her sisters. Lydia had since gone off to school in London with Mary and Kitty, and Georgiana had also removed to Town. She was now living with her trusted companion, Mrs. Annesley, at Darcy House, where she would remain until Christmas. Though Darcy was always at Pemberley, every day saw him more heavily engaged as he supervised the harvest and tended to matters of estate business with his steward from dawn until dusk, and very often much later. By the time he and Elizabeth retired each night, Darcy barely managed to crawl into bed before he collapsed beside her, his arms wrapped around her as Elizabeth snuggled against the length of his exhausted body. He would find repose quickly as he caressed the enormous, kicking bulge of his wife’s stomach, his other hand tangled in her mass of curls.
In the final days leading up to the birth, Elizabeth’s discomfort grew to substantial proportions—and not merely all of it physical. Her mother’s keen observations of her daughter’s condition were growing more astute with each passing hour, and made all the worse by Mrs. Bennet loudly extolling that, had she not known better, she would be quite certain Elizabeth’s time was very nearly upon her. What more could Elizabeth do besides offer her an awkward turn of her mouth and steer the conversation to any topic that might prove more successful in diverting her mother’s attention from the obvious?
After experiencing several days of extreme discomfort, Elizabeth felt the first pains of her labor begin early one September morning several hours after the sun had begun its ascent over the horizon. She had been parted from her husband since dawn, as his presence was required to tend to a rather heated dispute that had been escalating between two tenants for days. Wishing to feel closer to Darcy, she chose to remain in their bed in the master’s chambers, where they had passed the entirety of every night in each other’s arms. The pains were nothing more than slightly uncomfortable, and Elizabeth felt a thrill travel through her at the prospect of soon holding her child in her arms. Knowing she would need her strength for the delivery and realizing it would be many
hours yet until the babe would be born, she closed her eyes with the intention of resting herself. Sleep did not come easily, however, as her pains slowly advanced—both in intensity and frequency—and, with it, her anxiety at the prospect of giving birth. She knew she should alert someone to her current situation and rang for Sonia.
Sonia arrived to see her mistress breathing heavily as a wave of pain hit her. “Oh, ma’am!” she exclaimed. “I believe your time has come! I shall fetch Mrs. Reynolds at once!”
Elizabeth reached out her hand to prevent her from leaving. The young woman took it and exerted a gentle pressure. “Sonia, I wish to have Mr. Darcy informed that my pains have begun. He is currently seeing to a dispute between Mr. Roberts and Mr. Gordon. Please have someone go to him at once.”
Sonia nodded. “At once, ma’am, but I shall send Mrs. Reynolds to you in the meantime. The master would never forgive me if I were to leave you alone.”
Mrs. Reynolds arrived in very good time and took charge immediately, arranging Elizabeth’s pillows, smoothing the bed linens, and seeing to her every comfort. The housekeeper’s calm demeanor went a long way in soothing some of Elizabeth’s rising panic. “It will help if you walk, Mrs. Darcy,” Mrs. Reynolds advised. “Such activity has been known to hasten delivery.”
Obediently, Elizabeth nodded and allowed the woman to assist her as she stood and slowly began to make her way about the apartment, wincing as her pains escalated. Sonia returned and hurried to support her mistress on her other side. Several hours passed without any news or even so much as a word from Darcy, and Elizabeth became progressively ill at ease as her pains continued to grow.
Truth about Mr. Darcy Page 37