Thanking her, Elizabeth tied her hat tightly in place and went out to meet the men Mrs. Reynolds sent for. As they came from working on the roads, the men were already soaked through. They slogged through the rain, following Elizabeth to the cottage. She didn’t wait for a break in the weather this time, as an end to the storm wasn’t in sight. When they arrived, Nelly’s voice answered Elizabeth’s knock, bidding them enter. She was disappointed, but not surprised, to find Nelly and Fitz in the cottage alone, the fire burned low and no one about to help them.
Nelly Douglas listened to Elizabeth’s offer, gratitude blooming on her face, and accepted readily. Though still weak from childbirth, Nelly was able to walk, especially since a strong man held each arm. Elizabeth carried the baby while another man held an umbrella over them. The fourth carried those things that Nelly felt she would need. They moved slowly, but they arrived at Pemberley safely, where the requested guest bedroom and hot bath were ready for Nelly. Fitz was changed into dry clothing and a maid sat with him by the fire until Nelly was ready to hold him. The cottager looked exhausted, causing Elizabeth to fret that she’d done more harm than good by bringing her.
This fear grew into self-recrimination as the rain became more intermittent. Elizabeth realized she may have made the choice to bring Nelly to Pemberley too hastily, and certainly should have waited to see if the storm let up before dragging the poor woman and her child through the rain. She was consoled by learning that the rain, though no longer a constant downpour, still continued often enough so there was concern about the roads, keeping workers much too busy to give Nelly and Fitz the assistance they would be counting on.
As one rainy day melded into another, and Elizabeth found it increasingly difficult to badger Mrs. Darcy into eating, or even keep her awake, she began to fear her letter must not have gotten through. Surely, Lady Catherine must have set out the moment she read of her daughter’s condition. Mr. Darcy, too, should be returned, as his mother-in-law would have informed him of the information Elizabeth gave her. Her elaboration to Charlotte that Mr. Darcy didn’t know was, after all, as close as she could come to requesting Lady Catherine write him.
Elizabeth’s concerns turned out to be unnecessary, at least in the case of Lady Catherine. Mrs. Darcy’s mother arrived the very afternoon Elizabeth resolved to compose a second letter, filling the manor with her imperiousness in an instant. She was trailed into Pemberley by a stout stern-looking woman who Lady Catherine declared to be the finest midwife in England. Leveling her haughty gaze on Elizabeth, Lady Catherine said, “In case no one here has the wits or experience to help my daughter.”
Elizabeth wasn’t blind to the insult, but was too relieved to have help for Mrs. Darcy to protest. Indeed, it was only a partially unjust accusation. Elizabeth felt she possessed plenty of wit, and some modicum of experience, but not enough to help Mrs. Darcy.
Lady Catherine’s arrival with the midwife was timely, for Mrs. Darcy went into labor that very evening. Elizabeth spent the night pacing the hall outside Mrs. Darcy’s room, for Lady Catherine wouldn’t permit her to enter. The next morning, well after Elizabeth refused Mrs. Reynolds’ offer of breakfast, the midwife stepped into the hall, softly closing the door behind her.
“The baby is here,” she said. “It’s a girl. Mrs. Darcy is very weak. I can’t advise that she nurse the child. Once I’ve cleaned her, I’ll bring her out and you can take her to the wet nurse.”
“But she’s in Lambton,” Elizabeth said. She hadn’t meant to raise her voice, but fatigue and worry were taking their toll. “We sent for her immediately, but I don’t know if word can even get through, let alone anyone return with her.”
With a look that clearly admonished Elizabeth’s tone, the midwife slipped back into Mrs. Darcy’s room, closing the door before Elizabeth could even glimpse her. A moment later, Lady Catherine stepped out. Her expression made it clear she’d rather be wiping a bug off the bottom of her shoe than speaking to Elizabeth.
“In the future, Miss Bennet, you shall remember that you are in my daughter’s home, where you have no right to raise your voice nor countermand my orders.”
“I beg your pardon, Lady Catherine,” Elizabeth said, truly contrite for speaking loudly enough for Mrs. Darcy to hear. “I didn’t mean to disturb Mrs. Darcy or to ignore your request for the wet nurse. She’s been sent for, but it’s impossible to say if word can even reach her and I doubt there’s any chance of her arrival until the roads are more passable.”
“You will have to do the best you can, Miss Bennet, for I won’t have my daughter weakened further by nursing a child, especially one who is too small to survive.”
Before Elizabeth could press aside her shock to formulate a reply, Lady Catherine reentered Mrs. Darcy’s room. Elizabeth stood before the door, trying to decide if she should risk agitating Mrs. Darcy by knocking, or simply barge in. She couldn’t allow Lady Catherine to decide for Mrs. Darcy if her child was worth feeding. The woman was monstrous. Surely, Elizabeth owed it to Mrs. Darcy to seek her preference in the matter.
Before she could come to a decision, the midwife returned, holding out a poorly wrapped squirming bundle. The first thing Elizabeth noticed was that the child was terribly small. The second, that her cries were pitifully weak. The third was that she had six toes on each foot. It seemed odd, but when Elizabeth opened her mouth to comment on it, the midwife thrust the baby at her saying, “I don’t know if there’s anything to be done for her, but she can’t stay. She’ll only distress the patient.” Shaking her head, the woman disappeared into the room.
Elizabeth cradled the tiny form with care. She adjusted the blanket, the stitching on it obviously Mrs. Darcy’s careful work, swaddling the baby as best she could while holding her. She’d never beheld anything so fragile and so in need of help. She wondered if they even let Mrs. Darcy hold her once. Casting a last look at the door, torn between helping Mrs. Darcy’s baby and worrying that Mrs. Darcy needed help too, locked away under Lady Catherine’s care as she was, Elizabeth hurried off to find Mrs. Douglas.
Nelly was awake and sitting in her chair. She was of a hearty stock, and looked well, but Elizabeth knew she still tired quiet easily. Yet, the tiny baby needed milk, and she didn’t look as if she’d be much of a burden on Nelly. Elizabeth crossed the room, carefully handing over her bundle.
“Nelly, would you be willing to act as wet nurse?” Elizabeth asked. “Mrs. Darcy isn’t well enough and we can’t reach her wet nurse in Lambton. Will it be too much for you?”
Nelly was willing, but nursed the baby only briefly before the baby slept. Elizabeth took her back. Mrs. Darcy’s daughter hadn’t consumed much. Compared with Fitz Douglas, the new baby seemed even tinier than she first appeared.
Having nowhere to put the baby, Elizabeth carried her with her, seeking Mrs. Reynolds. They arranged for a second cradle to be put in with Nelly, and Elizabeth settled the child into it. A little over an hour later, when she went to the door to check on them, she was surprised to hear faint cries from the new baby. “Why aren’t you nursing her yet?” Elizabeth asked, entering the room.
“When she’s really hungry, she’ll cry,” Nelly responded.
Elizabeth was appalled by her tone, both neutral and taciturn. Thinking back, she recalled that while Nelly took proper care of Fitz, she wasn’t overly solicitous of him. Was this why the woman had lost so many babies, or the result of coming to terms with it? The new baby stopped fussing and fell asleep, but Elizabeth wasn’t satisfied. She couldn’t believe Mrs. Darcy’s baby received enough food in the first meal to satisfy her.
Crossing to the crib, treading carefully so as not to wake the sleeping Fitz, Elizabeth picked up Mrs. Darcy’s baby and brought her over to Nelly. “Nurse her,” she ordered. She knew she was being both presumptuous and rude, but she was exhausted and at her wits end. Didn’t anyone care about Mr. and Mrs. Darcy’s baby?
Nelly looked startled at the command, but she shrugged and accepted the baby. Elizabeth seated her
self on the edge of the bed, waiting to make sure Mrs. Darcy’s child was properly fed. It was a repeat of the previous time, with the baby only nursing for about five minutes. Nelly handed her back, her look tinged with reproach, and rose to check on her son.
Checking on them repeatedly the next day, Elizabeth found that Nelly often slept through the faint cries of Mrs. Darcy’s baby but was awakened by the lusty cries of her own son. Nelly, along with everyone else, told Elizabeth Mrs. Darcy’s baby was too small to live. The information was imparted to her with varying degrees of sympathy, depending on who spoke, but everyone seemed agreed on the fact. Most of the concern of the household was on Mrs. Darcy and how they could help her. Elizabeth had the cradle moved to her bedroom, since she felt she was more reliable in seeing the baby was fed than Nelly.
Mrs. Darcy must have recovered slightly, for she sent a maid, asking for her baby to be brought. Elizabeth was pleased on several counts. Mrs. Darcy, at least, seemed to care for her child and was recovering her strength, and Elizabeth would finally get to see her friend, no matter what Lady Catherine said. Carefully bundling the infant, she hastened to Mrs. Darcy’s room.
Anne was propped up by pillows and smiled upon seeing the baby. The fire was burning so brightly in the room that it was overheated. Elizabeth removed the blanket she carried the baby in and placed her in Mrs. Darcy’s arms. Mrs. Darcy tugged up the gown, which was too big for the baby. Elizabeth worried at Mrs. Darcy’s reaction to the six toes, but when she saw them, she smiled. “She has my toes.”
“Your toes?”
“I’ve always hated them. Darcy pretends he doesn’t notice.” She tried to kick the blankets off her feet, but it was too much. She slipped her foot under the blanket on the side of the bed where Elizabeth was standing. Seeing her bare foot, Elizabeth saw that Mrs. Darcy did indeed have six toes.
The baby slept in her mother’s lap and after a few minutes, Mrs. Darcy slept as well. Elizabeth picked up the baby, who started crying, but not loudly enough to wake her mother. Elizabeth brought her to Nelly, hoping she would eat more.
Elizabeth’s world dissolved into a fog of caring for Anne’s child. She found she would awaken at the slightest sound from the baby, even though the noise of the rain and the servants moving in the house didn’t bother her. It frightened Elizabeth that the baby seemed to lose weight at first, and upset her that no one, not even Nelly, seemed to feel it was worth loving the child. Sometimes, when the whole of the house slept and only Elizabeth was awake, rocking the tiny infant by the fire, she felt as powerless as the baby, and tears would slide unchecked down her cheeks.
After a grueling eight days, Elizabeth began to see changes in the baby. She seemed stronger and healthier. Her cry was louder and she ate more, and slept longer. Where once she had felt duty, and then love, Elizabeth at last began to feel hope.
Mrs. Darcy asked to see her child again, and Elizabeth let her hope for the baby spill over into hope for the baby’s mother. She realized she hadn’t had the presence of mind to try to see her friend. That Lady Catherine, along with the rest of the household, was doing everything possible for Anne, Elizabeth was sure, for it was all anyone in the manor spoke of. Her heart lighter than it had been in days, Elizabeth brought the baby to see Mrs. Darcy.
Upon entering the room, she had to work to hide her disappointment and shock. Mrs. Darcy was thin to the point of emaciation, her skin a nearly translucent façade stretched over bone. She raised a skeletal hand, which trembled with the effort. Elizabeth realized Mrs. Darcy hadn’t asked to see her baby again because she was recovering, but because she knew she approached her last moments on earth.
“Please, Elizabeth,” Mrs. Darcy said, her voice a whisper. “May I hold her again?”
“Of course,” Elizabeth said. She crossed the room, but didn’t hand Mrs. Darcy the baby. Instead, she tucked the infant beside her, being careful not to pull the blankets too tightly over either form. As she moved to straighten, Mrs. Darcy clutched at her arm.
“You must care for her, Miss Bennet,” Mrs. Darcy whispered. Her eyes, the only part of her that still seemed alive, darted about the room. “Don’t let mother take her. She must stay here with Mr. Darcy. I know you are the only one I can trust with this. Please, Elizabeth, promise me you’ll look after my baby. Promise me you will try to love her.”
“Yes, of course, Mrs. Darcy,” Elizabeth said. The hand on her arm clawed at her, demanding. “I promise. I promise that I already love her and that I’ll try to see she stays here, with her father.”
Saying it made Elizabeth think of him, which she hadn’t had the presence of mind to do in days. Where was Mr. Darcy? He should be there. It shouldn’t be up to Elizabeth to insure Anne’s daughter wasn’t removed from Pemberley.
Still, she had some confidence in her promise. Elizabeth knew that Lady Catherine could take the baby regardless of what Elizabeth did, but, for now, it was clearly not safe for the baby to have a long journey on the road. She would fight if anyone endangered the baby.
Mrs. Darcy exhaled, her eyelids fluttering closed. Her hand slid from Elizabeth’s arm and she froze, worried Mrs. Darcy was dead. Then, the frail form in the bed drew in a shuddering breath, and another, and Elizabeth backed away to sit in the chair. She stayed there, watching them both, until the baby woke up. Wishing she dared wake Mrs. Darcy too, to say goodbye to her child, Elizabeth collected the baby. It didn’t surprise her to learn that Mrs. Darcy died during the night.
Whether due to the sorrow that permeated the manor or her own frailty, the baby slipped into a decline upon her mother’s death. Elizabeth got even less sleep than before, though she hadn’t known that to be possible. The baby woke up frequently, but would only nurse for a few minutes. Elizabeth had to stay with her constantly, even when she fed, for sometimes it seemed as if Nelly didn’t even bother waking up when she nursed.
After Mrs. Darcy’s funeral, Elizabeth braced herself for an argument with Lady Catherine, but the Right Honorable Lady never appeared. Elizabeth assumed, since the baby was all that remained of Anne Darcy, that Lady Catherine would insist on taking her. She much was relieved to find that Mrs. Darcy’s mother swept from Pemberley with as much presumption and as little love as she entered with.
A few hours after Lady Catherine left, Elizabeth was sitting in her room, holding the baby in her lap, when a maid announced, “Reverend Barton wants to see you. Shall I show him in?”
Elizabeth blinked blurrily at the maid. She realized she hadn’t been aware of whether it was morning or night. “I’ll go down. Will you stay with the baby until I return?” she asked.
The maid nodded.
Elizabeth handed her the infant. “If she wakes, take her to Nelly. Watch her while she nurses, and then bring her back to my room.”
She briefly considered what she must look like, with her hair pinned up sloppily and wearing one of her oldest gowns, but decided she was decent. Moreover, she felt he should accept her state of disarray. If he wished a more formal meeting, he would have sent word ahead.
She was surprised when the maid directed her to the kitchen, but when she saw how muddy Reverend Barton was, she realized it made sense. He was sitting on a wooden stool. Someone brought a chair for Elizabeth. She realized that the sound of rain still filled her days and nights, a backdrop to the terrible world of frailty and death in which she was living.
He inquired after her health, but she could see that he was having difficulty keeping to the social niceties. “What brings you here, Reverend?”
“My duty. Lady Catherine insisted her daughter be buried in the Darcy cemetery. As it was a reasonable request, I acceded, although she has no authority in Pemberley. It’s very odd, with Mr. Darcy’s absence.”
“Mrs. Reynolds wrote him after Mrs. Darcy died,” Elizabeth said. “Mrs. Darcy forbade everyone to write him about her health.”
“I understand that. With the rains, it’s almost impossible to get through. I walked about six miles on a trail to get here.”<
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“What is so urgent?” she asked.
“The baby hasn’t been baptized. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem, but they say she isn’t likely to live. Indeed, I understood from Lady Catherine that it is a miracle she’s still alive.”
“I can’t authorize a baptism,” Elizabeth protested, surprised he would suggest it. She was no relation to the family. “I don’t know what name Mr. Darcy wants.”
“You seem to be the only one who can. She was left in your care by her mother and grandmother.” He paused, as if weighing his next words. “I know you aren’t a member of my parish, Miss Bennet, but I feel it’s my duty to point out the impropriety of you remaining in this house. If you wish to unburden yourself of decisions regarding this child, no one would criticize you. Rather, they may show you censure for staying.”
Elizabeth hardly felt alone in a household with more servants than she ever saw in one location, but she understood the point he was making. However respectable Mrs. Reynolds was, she was a housekeeper and not adequate to chaperone a young lady. But Elizabeth wouldn’t leave the baby.
“No.” She shook her head. “I can’t leave her. Not while there’s hope of her living.”
“I understand,” Reverend Barton said. She thought, even, that there was respect in his tone. “You obviously care deeply for the child. People are saying you’re keeping her alive by sheer will. Don’t let that care end at her corporal being. I leave the decision of the baptism to you.”
Elizabeth nodded, resigned, asking to excuse herself for a moment. She once again sought out Mrs. Reynolds, but in this, the housekeeper was of little assistance. She declared she had no authority to even suggest a name for the baby, but agreed that baptism was important. Not very familiar with the female nomenclature of Anne Darcy’s line, Elizabeth settled on Catherine Anne Darcy for the baby’s name, feeling it showed respect in the proper places. She was still fretting about the suitability of her choice when the baptism took place.
The Second Mrs. Darcy: A Pride & Prejudice Variation Novella Page 6