by Ola Wegner
“Can you believe that?” She pointed to her dress. “Only Heaven knows how early Mrs. Finney had to wake to press our clothes.”
Darcy nodded with a yawn, deciding at last to rise from the bed. “I will send them a milk cow in return for their hospitality.”
A quarter of an hour later they were both dressed, but as Elizabeth had lost most of her hair pins in the rain, she left her hair free. It hung in a heavy mass of curls down the middle of her back. Unfortunately, her elegant, yellow leather slippers had been completely ruined. Once they reached home, she knew that her maid would simply throw them away.
“Good morning,” Elizabeth said with a wide smile as they entered the main area of the house, which consisted of a large kitchen combined with a dining room.
“Good morning, good morning,” Mrs. Finney replied with a smile of her own.
Looking about, Elizabeth noticed that Mr. Finney and the boys were absent. She guessed they had eaten and were already seeing to their animals’ needs.
“Sit down please.” Mrs. Finney fluttered around the table, pulling out the chairs.
“We thank you, but we should return to the manor,” Darcy said. “They must be quite worried about us.”
“Joe, our oldest, returned from Pemberley a few minutes ago. They said they would send a carriage for you, but it has not arrived yet.”
Elizabeth gave Darcy a hard look. She gestured for him to take a seat, discreetly pushing him forward. She could see how much work Mrs. Finney had put into preparing their breakfast. There was a white and red checkerboard tablecloth and even a vase of fresh flowers on the table.
They ate for a bit in silence, but soon Darcy stood up, excusing himself. “Thank you for the breakfast and your hospitality, Mrs. Finney. I will await the carriage outside.”
As soon as he left, a small cry came from the crib placed near the window. Elizabeth stepped over to look at the bundle now waving its fists and legs wildly. The baby girl had blue and yellow flowers embroidered on the front of a white frock and pink knitted socks on her tiny feet. She was mostly bald, with only a small tuft of blonde hair above her wide forehead.
“May I?” Elizabeth gestured towards the child.
Mrs. Finney grinned, exposing surprisingly good teeth. “Aye, Mistress.”
With utmost care, but at the same time sure of herself, Elizabeth picked the girl up from the crib. As she began cooing to the baby, the child’s wide blue-green eyes stared at her in fascination.
“You are a natural, Mistress,” the other woman commented from her place at the stove.
“I have three younger sisters and little cousins, one of them is my godson, not much older than this little one,” Elizabeth explained.
“Watch my word, Mistress. This time next year you will have your hands full with your own little one.”
Elizabeth caught the tiny hand with her fingers, admiring the alabaster skin and perfect pink nails. “I hope so.” She bounced the child in her arms, eliciting a smile. “She is smiling at me!”
Mrs. Finney dried her hands on her apron and stepped closer. “This one is spoiled, she is. Even fed and dry she will not be quiet in her crib, always wanting to be carried about. Tis her father’s fault, you know. He picks her up every time he is home from the fields, even when she is sleeping. He never did that when the boys were little.”
“Your husband must be very proud of her.”
The woman nodded. “Aye. Men always say they want sons, but we have four and Mr. Finney wanted a girl. Not that he would ever admit it, mind you, for talkative he is not. I thought that I could have no more children as it had been six years since our youngest and then this little lass surprised us.”
“That must have been quite a shock for you,” Elizabeth said kindly.
“I thought for sure while I was carrying her that this one would be another boy.”
“She is beautiful.” Elizabeth stared adoringly at the child. “What is her name?”
“Mary.”
“Little Mary, you are beautiful, are you not? Yes, you are, yes-yes, you are.” Elizabeth cooed at the girl, before looking to her mother. “I have a sister with the same name.”
“Mrs. Darcy, our carriage has come,” Darcy announced, poking his head through the window.
Elizabeth nodded at him and regretfully placed the babe back in her crib.
“We thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Finney,” she said, bowing her head slightly. “I do not know what would have happened to us, had you and your husband not taken us in last evening.”
“Twas an honour, Mistress,” the woman dropped an awkward curtsey before adding with enthusiasm, eyes sparkling, “I cannot wait ‘til the other women in the village hear that Mrs. Darcy herself spent the night in my guest room.”
Elizabeth laughed at her words and with one last look at little Mary, quitted the house. As soon as she stepped outside, her skirts were attacked by Brutus, while Georgiana and Jane nearly made her trip with a fierce embrace.
“Lizzy, we were so worried!” Jane exclaimed, her voice unusually agitated.
“The storm lasted until nearly dawn and we could not start searching for you,” Georgiana explained. “Poor Brutus howled by the door for hours. When your horse returned to the stables alone, we feared the worst. Only when the Finney boy came...,” his sister’s voice broke as her eyes watered.
“We are well and there was no danger,” Elizabeth replied calmly, patting Georgiana’s back in a soothing gesture. “Fitzwilliam knew where to find shelter once we realized it was too late for us to return home.”
She looked to see one of the open carriages from Pemberley waiting, Mr. Bingley acting as a driver.
“Good morning, sir,” she greeted her husband’s friend as they neared the carriage.
“Delighted to see you unharmed, Mrs. Darcy,” Charles proclaimed as he looked down at her. “Pray, do not disappear anymore in the near future and leave me with the task of consoling those two fair ladies.”
“Let us proceed,” Darcy stated brusquely, as he handed his wife and sisters into the carriage, visibly impatient to be off. “I must see whatever damages the storm may have caused. Finney told me that several trees nearby have been broken or uprooted so I expect to find some in other areas. I hope that no buildings were damaged or destroyed.”
On their way to the manor, at Jane and Georgiana’s demand, Elizabeth told them in detail about the events of the previous evening. Understandably, she edited some of the details which were much too private for their ears.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Four days after the great thunderstorm, which had succeeded in uprooting a few old trees in the park and ripping the roofs off several barns, Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth sat beside a window in Pemberley’s drawing room. They talked while observing the children playing outside on the lawn, riding the pony Mr. Darcy had recently bought for the Gardiner children.
“I agree completely, Aunt. It is only fitting that you and Uncle should go. You deserve time alone, away from the children,” Elizabeth said with great conviction. “I hear the Lake District is particularly beautiful this time of the year.”
Mrs. Gardiner gave her niece an indecisive, guilty look. “I do not wish to burden you and Mr. Darcy, Lizzy. He was kind enough to host us here, but leaving you alone with four children is an entirely different matter. Fred is so small; he wakes in the middle of the night quite often, and Robbie sometimes wets the bed.”
Elizabeth placed her hand over her aunt’s. “It is not a burden, Aunt. In fact, it is far from it. I think of all the times Jane and I have stayed with you in London.” She paused. “We owe you and Uncle much more than you will ever know,” she added fervently. “I will never forget everything you have done for us, and if I can repay you in such a small way, please allow me to do so. Look about you. This house is so big with an abundance of room for everyone. And as for Mr. Darcy, he will have nothing against it, believe me. This time of the year he spends most of his days out of doors att
ending to matters of business on the estate. He will not even see the children that often.” Elizabeth smiled and shook her heard at her aunt’s quizzical expression. “I know what you may think, but it is not how he really is. My husband might give the impression of being reserved, sometimes displeased even, but he always means well. His flaw is that he cannot express himself as well as others do and lacks the social skills. However, in his defence, I must say that he is very thoughtful. For instance, it was solely his idea to buy the pony you see before you. He thought it fitting that the children might have a pleasant time during your visit. As you see, Aunt, he truly welcomes you here.”
The older woman watched her niece with warm eyes. “I can see that you have finally learned to understand him.”
Elizabeth nodded, her expression thoughtful. “There is much depth behind those dark brooding eyes. He is always thinking even when he is silent or speaks little. People often mistake his meaning in the way he expresses himself, as did I in the beginning of our acquaintance. He is a very private person and keeps many at an arm’s length. But he is as good and caring as any man ever was—a loyal friend to those whom he loves and a good brother. My husband is an honourable man even if it is a well-kept secret from the masses,” Elizabeth said with a chuckle as she gazed at the children playing on the lawn.
“You sound as though you have fallen in love with him.”
“I have,” Elizabeth affirmed, a soft smile curling her lips as she faced her aunt. “But do not think that I am blind to his faults, for I am not. They are part of him,” she paused, before adding with a voice slow and even, “and I am happy with him.”
“I am so relieved to hear this confession from you, Elizabeth,” Mrs. Gardiner said. “The days following your wedding, your uncle and I discussed you and Mr. Darcy often, wondering whether we were right in convincing you to marry him. We had a good feeling about him from the start, but in truth, we knew so little of him. It also concerned us that you seemed sad on your wedding day, terrified even. You trusted our judgment, and I feared we might have failed you.”
“No, Aunt,” Elizabeth shook her head. “You and my uncle are true friends to me and to Jane as well. Your house was always open to us. By your example I learned what a happy family should be, how spouses should treat one another, how to love and bring up children wisely. As for my wedding day, I am afraid my spirits were down. I was so stubborn, putting too much pressure on myself.” She let out a heavy sigh. “Poor Fitzwilliam, he did not know how to approach me, how to talk to me. I hardly knew myself.”
The two women sat in quiet reflection for a moment before Mrs. Gardiner returned to the subject of their trip.
“Will ten days be too long?”
“No, of course not; there is no point in travelling to the lakes for a shorter stay, and therefore, it is settled.” Elizabeth clapped her hands, smiling. “The children will be safe here with us.”
“I have no doubt they will be under the best of care,” Mrs. Gardiner assured. “Thank you, Lizzy. We do appreciate your generosity.”
Elizabeth excused herself from her aunt’s company to seek out her husband and explain her plans for the next two weeks. He was supposed to be in his study where he had sequestered himself in order to catch up on estate matters that had been neglected over the last few days. Elizabeth smiled as she walked, well pleased to be of assistance to the Gardiners. After all, it was only right that she repay their kindness with this small gesture, and she was sure her husband would agree.
Standing before the tall, dark and imposing door, she knocked, but received no answer.
“Fitzwilliam?” she called, knocking again. “Are you there?”
With a frown, she pushed open the door. Elizabeth’s eyes swept over the room before coming to rest on her sleeping husband, his large form curled awkwardly on the sofa.
Kneeling beside him, she placed a hand and then her face against his forehead. It was warm. The fever was not high, but there was one nonetheless.
“Fitzwilliam,” she whispered, stroking strands of damp hair away from his face. “Wake up, my love… please. You must go upstairs and rest.”
Getting no reaction from him, she tried to pull him up by his arms, but he was too heavy. She touched his face again, worry tugging at her heart. Looking around she saw his coat hanging on the back of one of the chairs. Reaching for it, she placed it over him, pulling it to his chin.
Stepping into the hall outside the study, she looked around for a familiar face.
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Mr. Bingley descending the stairs dressed for riding. Elizabeth cried out, her voice carrying through the hall and instantly gaining his attention. “Sir? Mr. Bingley, can you assist me?”
“Anything for you, Mrs. Darcy.” Smiling eagerly he approached with quick steps.
Leading him inside the study, she gestured to Darcy. “He fell asleep here as you see. I fear that he has developed a cold as he has a fever. I tried to wake him, but he does not respond. My attempts at lifting him were futile. As you might suppose, he is much too heavy for me.”
Thankfully, Mr. Bingley did not need to have the situation explained twice. “Do not fret, Mrs. Darcy.” He walked to the sofa, grasping his friend by the shoulders and pulling him up into a sitting position. “We will have him upstairs and into bed before you can turn around.”
Bingley hoisted Darcy to his feet, supporting him against his side. Both men were of similar height with Bingley having only a slightly slimmer body build. Nevertheless, he had little trouble with bearing Darcy’s weight, something entirely impossible for Elizabeth.
“Bingley, what are you doing?” Darcy awakened at last, blinking his eyes.
“You have your lovely wife quite worried, my friend,” Bingley replied, taking a step forward and pulling Darcy with him.
“Bingley! Stand aside!” Darcy pushed the other man away, standing straight and proud. “I am perfectly capable of walking on my own.”
Not in the least bit offended with his friend’s response, Bingley looked in Elizabeth’s direction, saying in a bright voice. “I think he is not as sick as you may think, Mrs. Darcy. He is not so much different from his usual cranky self, I dare say.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bingley.” She smiled at the fair haired man before eyeing her husband, her expression sober. “Let us get you upstairs, Mr. Darcy. You must lie down. I will send for a nourishing broth. And you, good sir, will eat it. It is essential that you do as I say so that your body can fight this fever you have acquired. I will ask the cook to kill our fattest chicken. It is the best thing for a cold.”
Darcy scowled down at her, trying to intimidate her with his sternest look. “I am not sick, madam. I do not understand why you brought Bingley here, asking him to help me to the bed as though I was a child unable to care for my own needs. I assure you I am no child, Mrs. Darcy.”
Elizabeth’s dark eyes narrowed and she placed her hand on her hips. “You certainly act like one! I tried to wake you up for several minutes, but you would not move. Do not tell me that it is normal.”
“I am not sick. I am simply fatigued,” he protested.
“You are sick, and you will go upstairs to our rooms this very instant and rest for the remainder of the day.”
They stared at one another, both unyielding, while Bingley followed their exchange quite fascinated.
Darcy murmured gruffly at last, avoiding meeting her eyes, “Very well, if you insist, Mrs. Darcy. I will do as you ask, even though I am perfectly well…a bit tired perhaps. Overseeing the repair work after the storm took much of my energy these last few days. That is all.”
Instantly Elizabeth’s demeanour changed, and she stepped to Darcy with a smile on her face. “Thank you.” She took his hand, lifted it to her face and placed a kiss on the inside of his palm. I shall find Mrs. Reynolds.”
She moved to leave, but stopped at that door. Turning, she raised an eyebrow, her voice firm. “I expect you to be in our rooms. I will meet you there in fiv
e minutes.”
Darcy glanced at Bingley who laughed into the fisted hand now against his mouth.
“Do not dare say anything, Bingley. Not one word...” Darcy warned. “I simply do not wish for her to become overly concerned with my wellbeing. She is a bit sensitive.”
“I comprehend perfectly.” Bingley clapped his back. “Now, you had better go upstairs. You do not wish to worry her, after all.”
***
Elizabeth found Mrs. Reynolds in the servants’ wing giving instructions to the chambermaids. The housekeeper stopped instantly upon the mistress’s entrance and listened while Mrs. Darcy explained the situation to her. Elizabeth asked that she talk with the cook about preparing a rich broth made with herbs and plenty of black pepper.
The housekeeper was amazed to learn that Darcy had agreed to put himself to bed in the middle of the day. The woman looked at Mrs. Darcy with a newfound respect, openly stating that it must be Elizabeth’s good influence, for in all the years since Mr. Darcy had become Master of Pemberley, it had been impossible for anyone to achieve such a feat.
***
When Elizabeth entered their private rooms later, she found her husband slouching on a chair in front of the fireplace.
She came to stand by his side, touching his face. He leaned into her hand, his eyes drooping.
“You must tell me truthfully,” she pleaded. “How are you? Sore throat? Headache?”
“Both,” he acknowledged quietly.
“My poor dear.” She kissed his forehead. “Why did you not say something sooner?”
He shrugged. “I thought that it would go away of its own accord.”
Shaking her head she asked, “What am I going to do with you?”
“Keep me?”
She laughed, ruffling his hair. “Come; let us move from this chair before you doze off again. If you are unable to move, I will need to call someone to carry you.”
He shot her a guarded look. “You want to put me to bed?”
She raised an eyebrow.
“I can walk on my own, thank you very much!”