Apprehension and Desire

by Ola Wegner

  When he was dressed down to his breeches and shirt, she touched her lips to his forehead. “It is cool, you have no fever.”

  “But I am still not feeling well,” he complained. “Though I do know one way to ease my suffering,” he murmured, and before she could utter a sound, he pulled her on the bed right under him.

  “I thought you felt unwell!” she cried when he released her lips from a deep kiss.

  “I am much better now,” he murmured into her neck.

  “You tricked me!” She pounded his back with a small fist. “I was worried about you.”

  “Do not be angry.” He kissed her lips. “I wanted to be alone with you.”

  He made a puppy face.

  “You could have said the truth, not making me think you were sick!”

  “I am sorry. Next time I will tell you straightforwardly that I want to bed you.” He gazed into her face. “You are so pretty when you are angry. Do you know that?”

  “Insufferable man!” she cried, but allowed his kisses.

  Darcy hooked his fingers on the edge of her bodice, and with one easy move, tore it down. He smiled with satisfaction, now she would never wear it again.

  “What have you done?” she cried, as she pushed him off her and sat up. “You ruined it.” She stared at the tattered silk, embroidered in gold with tiny flowers. “It is beyond repair now! My very best gown. What will Mama say when she knows about that? She chose it for me herself.”

  “Elizabeth, you are married, and your mother will not learn about it,” Darcy pointed out reasonably. “I will buy you two nicer ones in place of this one.” Only not so low cut, he added in his thoughts.

  She made a grumpy face. “I liked this very well, thank you.”

  He began unsnapping her stays. “Lizzy, I want you.”

  “You could have waited till I removed my dress,” she cried angrily.

  “No, I could not have waited.” He kissed her again, taking her hand and moving it down to his groin.

  She sighed with resignation, rolling her eyes. “When you put something into this thick head of yours...” she murmured.

  “Shush.” He closed her mouth with his, covering her completely with his large body.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Lizzy, wake up.” Darcy pulled the blanket down, revealing the curly head. “Lizzy.” He shook her arm.

  As there was no visible reaction, he kissed her ear. “Wake up, sleepyhead. Wake up, wake up.”

  Her eyes opened slowly. “So early,” she murmured and glanced at the window. “Still dark.” She turned on her side and pulled the sheet over her head.

  Darcy tugged the sheet down to her waist, uncovering her naked upper body. “We are going to Pemberley today.” He kissed her creamy arm, “We need to depart as early as possible.”

  She sat up with a sigh, rubbing her cobwebbed eyes. Involuntarily his gaze was drawn to her exposed breasts, her pink nipples relaxed from sleep

  “Come, lift your arms.” He reached for a nightgown and put it on her. “Your maid is waiting with breakfast.”

  She opened her eyes wider. “You are already dressed.”

  “Yes, and I have already had breakfast. I did not want to wake you until the very last moment.” He put on her slippers and pulled her out of bed and onto her feet. “I need to go down now and see if everything has been done as it should have been. Remember to eat your breakfast, not just nibble.”

  “You know that I have no appetite. I feel so sick in the morning,” she complained.

  “I know, love.” He pulled her to him in a comforting embrace. “But we must depart today. Once at home, at Pemberley, you will rest.”

  He strode across the room to open the door. “Martha, Mistress is ready.”

  The maid entered with a tray with food.

  “I shall see you downstairs,” he said and left the room.

  Three quarters of an hour later, Elizabeth walked out of house. Due to the early morning hour, the street was completely empty. Low mists surrounded the trees in the square on the other side of the road.

  Darcy walked to her. “Warm enough?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yes.” She had her new coat on and a green velvet bonnet, which matched her reticule and leather gloves.

  Darcy helped her inside the carriage, and without further delay, they departed.

  Elizabeth took her place next to the window, as was her custom, but she did not look out of it. Her hands wrapped around her middle, her back slanting. Darcy shifted closer.

  “You are not feeling well,” he noted with concern.

  She nodded and rested her head on his shoulder.

  His arm wrapped protectively around her. “I wish I could take this discomfort away from you somehow.”

  She chuckled. “You know that you cannot. Women carry babies, not the other way round. Besides, you are so patient, putting up with my constant whining, complaining, and grumping that you should be given a reward for that.”

  “You are my reward.”

  She exhaled a long breath and looked up at him. “When you say such things to me, I think that a woman would have to be made of stone not to fall in love with you.”

  “I do not like to return to those times, but you were quite resistant at first,” he pointed out dryly.

  She glared at him. “It was your own fault.”

  Darcy’s expression fell and he looked away. He did not like to remember that he had been so close to losing her because of his own arrogance and pride.

  “Forgive me.” She tugged at his sleeve so he looked at her. “I should not have returned to that.”

  “You are perfectly right,” he said harshly. “I treated you abominably.”

  “No, you did not,” she argued. “I was a bit oversensitive at times.” She admitted slowly, “I tend to overreact sometimes, and I blew some things out of proportion.”

  Darcy raised one eyebrow; he did not expect such an honest evaluation of her own character on her part.

  “I did not know you at all in the past,” she continued. “You can be so hard to read sometimes, to strangers especially, so intimidating.”

  “Intimidating?” he stared at her in disbelief. “I did not notice that you were particularly intimidated by me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I meant to say that now I understand that this stern attitude you tend to display is just your own way of protecting yourself and your family against the outside world.”

  He gathered her closer. “My wise Lizzy.”

  During their conversation, the views outside the window changed from cobblestoned streets of London to more rural settings.

  Elizabeth pushed away from him, suddenly, as her face turned green. “Tell them to stop the carriage,” whispered.

  One look at her, and he knew what was coming. He hit the roof with a fist and cried through the window for the driver to stop.

  As soon as the carriage came to a halt, Elizabeth pushed the door open and jumped down. Darcy followed close behind her and wrapped his arms around her as she emptied the content of her stomach straight on the road, bent in half.

  The driver climbed down from his place to calm the horses after such a sudden stop. He and the other servant looked at each other, exchanging the knowing glances. They had little doubt that Master had wasted no time, and there would be a baby Darcy in the spring.

  Darcy took some water from the servant, wetted his handkerchief and cleaned Elizabeth’s mouth. “Can we go? Are you feeling better now?” he asked, looking into her ghostly pale countenance.

  She nodded and even managed a pale smile.

  Once in the carriage, he removed her bonnet and soiled dirty gloves, and threw them out the window. He rubbed her cold hands with his warm ones.

  “I think it should be better now that I have purged all that I had for breakfast,” she moaned.

  He kissed her forehead. “I should not have forced food into you.”

  “Your intentions were good. I know you are worried that I
do not eat as I should,” she whispered, her eyes dropping.

  He tucked her against him, her head under his chin. He put her hands inside his coat to warm them. “I will buy you new warm gloves once we stop to change the horses. Now, try to nap.”

  ***

  When close to the evening, they stopped in a small town the size of Meryton, where they planned to spend a night. Elizabeth was on her last legs. The bumps on the road did not agree with her, and she felt sick most of the time. She did not complain, but Darcy could not bear to look at her miserable, pale face. He even considered interrupting their journey, but then he knew that they had to reach Pemberley, the sooner the better. There she would be able to rest in comfort.

  He was happy that she ate a bit more for a dinner, though he could see that she did that mostly for him. He left her alone for a moment to check on his people, and when he returned, he found her already dressed in her nightclothes, her hair let free down her back. She stood near the bed, bent down, hand on her stomach.

  “Feeling sick again?” he asked with concern, standing behind her.

  “No...,” She touched her stomach and lowered down to her knees. “There is something wrong.”

  “Wrong?” he knelt in front of her.

  “I have got cramps.” She bit her lip so hard it turned white. “There is something wrong...”

  “Come.” He scooped her in his arms, and sat her on the bed.

  She curled on her side, her face twisted.

  Darcy tucked her hair away from her face. “Lizzy, what is going on?”

  Her arms wrapped around her middle, she moaned, before her face relaxed, the lines of pain gone. Slowly, she sat up, opened her legs and raised the nightgown. There was some blood, it was dark and thick, with clots here and there.

  “What is happening? she whispered, staring at the bloody stains on the white cotton of her nightgown.

  Darcy stared at it too, only he did know what happened. He had been ten back then, before Georgiana had been born. He had accompanied his mother on a walk around the lake at Pemberley, when she had sat heavily on the grass, holding her stomach the same as Elizabeth did. She had told him to bring his father as she had felt unwell. He had remembered how scared he had been, running to find him. Father had carried mother to the house, and she had been ill for several days, not leaving the bed. Then he had heard the servants speaking that Mistress lost a baby.

  “I will call the doctor.” He pulled the nightgown down and covered her with a blanket.

  Her eyes widened. “Doctor?”

  “Just to check, love. Stay here and do not move. I will be back soon. The inn’s owner surely knows the local doctor.”

  “William?” She swallowed, looking up at him. “I am scared. What is going on?”

  He managed a smile and kissed the top of her head. “Do not fret,” he managed to say through his tight throat. “I will be right with you. Remember not to move. I love you.”

  He left the room.

  ***

  Darcy sat in the chair next to the door, his head supported against the wall panel. Thankfully the local doctor was their hosts’ relative. He had arrived within half an hour, but now he was taking ages in her room.

  “Sir.”

  Darcy lifted his head, seeing the elderly man in front of him. He had not heard the door open. He stood up, looking anxiously inside the bedroom, but the man closed the door quickly before he managed to catch sight of her.

  “Let us talk first, sir. Your wife needs some privacy. You shall see her later.”

  They sat down by the round table. The single lamp on the middle of it lit the room dimly.

  “Do you know what happened?” the doctor asked.

  Darcy nodded. “Yes, I believe so. I was with her when it started.”

  “She has lost the baby. I am very sorry.”

  Darcy stared at the man for a moment, silently. “She has felt fine apart from the morning sickness. She was tired, slept a lot but... She had no pains, no bleeding before. I would have noticed.”

  “Sometimes there are no prior symptoms to miscarriage,” the doctor explained.

  “She felt unwell in the morning, was sick, returned her breakfast just as we drove outside London.” Darcy ran a hand over his face. “I should not have forced her to travel today.”

  “You could not have helped that, sir. I dare say that the same would have happened, even had you stayed at home,” the man assured.

  “How is she?” Darcy asked, his expression strained.

  “She is fine, physically I mean. She should recuperate in a few days. Your wife is young and healthy. You both are. You will have many children in the future. I promise it to you, and I promised it to her.”

  Darcy brought his fist to the mouth and murmured. “But why?”

  “We do not know exactly. You may be surprised, but it is quite common and even natural. We believe that sometimes the child simply stops growing , and the mother’s body needs to dispose of it, otherwise it could be dangerous for her. I have seen, heard and read about many cases when after miscarriage, a woman gives birth to a healthy baby the very next year.”

  Darcy nodded. He remembered that soon after his mother’s illness, he had gone to boarding school for the first time. When he had returned for the summer, his mother had been big with Georgiana.

  “Now, Mr. Darcy, if I am correct?”

  “Yes, Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire.”

  “Mr. Darcy, do you love your wife?”

  “Very much.” He smiled through the glossy eyes. “I met her a year ago at an assembly. I was in love before I noticed, not even sure when or how it happened. I did not know what struck me.”

  “You must show it to her now. She will blame herself. You must take special care of her. Spend a lot of time with her.”

  “Of course.”

  “I would advise you to wait a while before resuming your marital relations; two months should be enough.”

  “I understand. I would never risk her health.”

  The doctor stood up. “I must go if you have no other questions. I have got a patient with a serious case of pneumonia.”

  “Of course, I understand.”

  “Call me tomorrow if anything is wrong, but I do not think that it will be necessary. I talked with her and explained everything, answered all her questions. She should stay in bed tomorrow.”

  Darcy walked the man to the door. “Thank you, doctor.” He pulled out his hand and they shook hands.

  Darcy reached to his pocket. “How much do I owe you? I should have money in my coat...” He looked around the room.

  “Not now. Leave my pay with the inn keeper when settling the bill. They are my wife’s relatives. Good night, sir. I wish you and your wife all the best.”

  Darcy stood unmoving for a while after the man left. He had to brace himself before going to her.

  He opened the door to the bedroom and saw her curled on the bed. Her trunk was open. She must have changed into a clean nightgown. He could see bits of the blooded cloth burning in the fireplace.

  He moved to the bed and sat on the edge. “I am so sorry, sweetheart.” He reached his hand and stroked her arm.

  It took some time before she looked up at him, her eyes puffy and rimmed red. “Do you hate me?”

  He leaned over. “What are you saying?”

  “I lost your baby,” she whimpered.

  He sat down beside her on the bed and pulled her into his arms. “Listen to me. It was not your fault. Such things happen sometimes. You could not stop it.”

  “I feel horrible,” she whispered brokenly into his chest.

  His arms squeezed her to him. “I know, love, I know.” He kissed her head. “I love you.”

  She cried silently.

  ***

  Darcy woke up the next morning with a dull pain in his back. He had slept half sitting on the bed, in his clothes, his head supported against the headboard at a strange angle. Elizabeth was snuggled to him. It had been
very late when she had stopped weeping and fallen asleep.

  Carefully, he removed her arm from his waist and got out of bed, ignoring the stiffness in his muscles. He covered her with another blanket and quietly walked out of the room.

  He hurried with washing and shaving and ordered a breakfast for both of them to their private sitting room. As the food was brought, he checked on Elizabeth. She was still dozing. He returned to the sitting room, leaving the door to the bedroom open. Should he wake up her, or let her sleep?

  “William?” he heard a weak, raspy voice. “Where are we?”

  He hurried to the bedroom. She sat in the middle of the bed, disoriented, her curls sticking in the all directions. Then her hand went down to her stomach and the tears ran down her face.

  “No.” She sobbed, “No...”

  He was beside her in a second. He pulled her to him, trying to soothe her somehow, whispering endearments, though he was, himself, on the verge of breaking down.

  When she quietened down a bit, he cupped her swollen, red face. “The breakfast is waiting. I will ask to bring hot tea.”

  “I am not hungry,” she answered in a dead voice, her arms slumping.

  “Please, love, you have barely eaten anything for the last days. Do you want to make yourself seriously ill? You must eat, for me. Please,” he begged.

  She nodded and tried to get up on her own, but he did not allow it, only scooped her in his arms and carried to the other room.

  He sat her down and put some ham and bread on her plate, making a sandwich.

  She began to chew mechanically. As she ate, new tears began forming in her eyes. Darcy felt helpless. It was not Elizabeth, he knew. She was always so lively and enthusiastic, and now he was almost afraid to look in her eyes.

  “I ordered a bath. I assumed you would wish to refresh yourself.”

  She nodded. “I washed myself yesterday after the doctor went to talk with you and burnt the bloodied nightgown in the fireplace, but a warm bath would be nice.” There seemed to be no emotion, no feeling in her voice.

  The bathtub was carried to the bedroom and the servants brought the buckets with hot water. He did not want the strangers around, so he sent the maid out. Elizabeth wanted to wash her hair, so he assisted her with it, pouring the water over her head several times to wash down the suds. She trembled the entire time, and he knew it was not because she was cold.