by E Bradshaw
Mr Bennet nodded as if he were in agreement, though he didn’t make any sort of reply, and so Darcy pressed ahead with his argument. “Come, tell me about her,” he entreated. “What is she like? How has she spent her life?” Then, seeing that he was not getting any sort of response from Mr Bennet with his line of questioning, he rethought his strategy. “I’m presuming that she has her own wealth and she is not simply after your money?” he asked with deliberate impertinence.
That particular question finally got Mr Bennet’s attention, and though he initially shot Darcy a look of offence, he quickly understood that his troublesome son-in-law was simply trying to provoke him and so he instead sent Darcy a scathing look in reply. “She is quite rich enough, thank you,” Mr Bennet retorted with a defensive edge to his tone. “Her late husband was a sea captain and I understand that he made a respectable fortune over his years of campaigning against the French.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” replied Darcy dryly. “We wouldn’t want Mr Collins to imagine that you were falling prey to a fortune hunter – in addition to setting the local tongues wagging with the scandal of your friendship!”
Mr Bennet knew that Darcy was deliberately trying to provoke him with his impudent remarks and so he merely rolled his eyes in a sarcastic response. Nevertheless, Darcy’s impertinence had had the desired effect, since Mr Bennet began at last to see the humour in the situation. “I told her that you’d likely worry in case she was trying to take advantage of me!” he joked, clearly referring to Mrs McRoy.
“It would not be the first time that I have had to prevent a person from being taken advantage of,” retorted Darcy with a wry smile.
“Well, I can assure you that Heather is not of that ilk,” Mr Bennet asserted vehemently. “She has lived a full and eventful life, and now only wishes to be settled around people who care for her. She travelled the world whilst she followed her late husband around on his naval campaigns, but such a transient lifestyle never allowed her the opportunity to form lengthy friendships with anyone. She only moved back down here to Hertfordshire because she had not put down any lasting roots in Lanarkshire, which had been her husband’s birthplace. She was lonely, and I have been glad to provide her with friendship over these last five months.”
Darcy noticed that Mr Bennet had used Mrs McRoy’s first name as he had spoken about her, though he didn’t interrupt to point that out or to make a remark about the obvious familiarity of their relationship. He also noticed that, in defending Mrs McRoy and the friendship which they shared, Mr Bennet had sounded far more confident and much less apologetic for the first time during their conversation. “So she was lonely, and I think you, too, are lonely sometimes,” he commented instead. “Would it really be so scandalous or wrong, then, if the two of you were to alleviate one another’s loneliness?”
“No – it would not,” replied Mr Bennet thoughtfully – and for the first time he didn’t look guilt-ridden as he imagined such a potential future.
“Then write to Collins,” urged Darcy; “tell him that who you spend your time with and what you do in your life is absolutely none of his business. And let us be honest, his motives in cautioning you aren’t at all selfless; he’s just worried about his inheritance. Or better yet,” Darcy added with a sly grin, “tell him that his letter has ultimately helped to clarify things for you. It would serve him right if he’d presumed that his lecture would talk sense into you, only to later find out that it was actually the cause to spur you along – and worse still, that he only has himself to blame for the consequences!”
“You’ve got a wicked mind, Fitzwilliam,” replied Mr Bennet with an appreciative laugh. “I pity anyone who crosses you!”
“I assure you, I was as innocent as a lamb until I met you,” retorted Darcy with a roguish grin.
“I very much doubt that,” snorted Mr Bennet.
*****
Despite his misgivings, Mr Bennet was finally persuaded to do as Darcy had advised, and so he brought up the topic of Mrs McRoy with his daughters that very afternoon. To his surprise, and very much to his relief, he found that their responses were very much as Darcy had assured him they would be. None of his daughters condemned him for his friendship; instead, they only emphasised that they wished to see him happy. They missed their mother terribly, just as they knew he did, but they did not wish to see him alone for the rest of his life if such a situation was to make him miserable. Moreover, Mr Bennet soon discovered that Mrs McRoy was immensely popular with them all, and though Elizabeth stated honestly that she would need more time to get to know the lady better, all his daughters encouraged him as one not to let any opportunity for happiness pass him by.
Chapter 21
Early October 1813
Wrapping his arm protectively around Elizabeth’s noticeably rounded frame, Darcy guided her over towards the settee in order to sit her down. Then, kneeling down to remove her shoes, he picked up her feet and then lifted them onto the settee so she would lie down. To Darcy’s mind, his wife looked rather pale, and he was seriously concerned that she wasn’t resting as much as she should be – and especially for a woman so far advanced in her condition as she was. Indeed, when he had gone searching for Elizabeth in her bedroom earlier that afternoon, he had not found her there resting as he had expected. Instead, to his utter consternation, when he had finally discovered her (though not in any of the rooms in the house, as he might reasonably expect), he had actually found her taking a rather long circuit of the gardens – and so naturally he had immediately and rather sternly shepherded her back inside to rest. However, to Darcy’s bewilderment, Elizabeth seemed to think that his intervention was rather more bothersome than solicitous, for she had muttered somewhat darkly under her breath about infuriating husbands.
“I’m alright!” she exclaimed a little peevishly, as Darcy draped a woollen blanket around her swollen body and began to tuck her in. “There’s no need to fuss so!”
“There is every need to fuss when you decide to start roaming around the countryside in your advanced condition!” Darcy contradicted fiercely.
“I was only in the garden!” countered Elizabeth with a look of exasperation. “In my condition I can hardly get very far, now can I? And I would hardly say that my slow waddle could be called roaming!”
“You had almost reached the orchard,” Darcy retorted. “What if something had of happened to you? I would never forgive myself if either you or the baby was hurt.”
Elizabeth made no reply to this, and instead she only bit her lip and looked rather shamefaced.
“Now, I want you to stay here and rest. Don’t argue with me,” Darcy continued sternly, as he gave Elizabeth his most imperious glare in an attempt to impress his authority upon her. It never worked, though; Elizabeth simply rolled her eyes at him and huffed with open defiance.
“Very well,” she conceded grumpily, “but since I see you won’t listen to me, could you at least ask Mrs Reynolds to come to me?”
“Why?” asked Darcy suspiciously. “You’ve not felt any pains, have you?”
“I simply want to check that all the arrangements are in order for our guests when they arrive, that’s all.”
She was referring to the impending visit of her family in a fortnight’s time, though Darcy couldn’t understand what she might have to discuss that was so urgent that it had to be dealt with right now.
“I still don’t know if it is a good idea for your family to visit this month,” he frowned. “What if the baby is delayed and they arrive just as you are going into your confinement?”
“Then we’d send an express as soon as there were any signs of the baby coming and ask them to delay their arrival,” Elizabeth replied impatiently. “Now, please, stop fretting and leave me alone for a while. Go for a ride; it’ll help you to exorcise the frustration which you so obviously feel about having an overly wilful wife!”
Feeling troubled, Darcy looked into Elizabeth’s face for a prolonged moment as he tried to decide whether
or not she was trying to conceal something from him, or whether she was simply feeling out of sorts. It was not like her to be irritable, but then he also knew how she hated to be hemmed in and dictated to. “Very well,” he finally conceded, as he leant forward to plant a kiss on her forehead; “I’ll go – but only for an hour or so. I don’t like to be too far from home when you’re so close to your time.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth replied, and suddenly there was a catch to her voice.
Darcy peered closely at her once again, wondering if there was more to Elizabeth’s sudden desire to be left alone than she was letting on, but she impatiently shooed him away.
“Don’t forget to ask for Mrs Reynolds,” she reminded him, and he nodded, still inwardly wondering at her sudden need to see the housekeeper. Even so, thinking that Elizabeth looked rather tired, Darcy did as she asked and left her alone so she could rest for a while.
*****
Darcy frowned to himself as he set off on his ride; although he knew that Elizabeth was greatly looking forward to being reunited with her family, he still wondered whether it was entirely wise to overburden her with the duties of hosting when she was so close to giving birth. Nevertheless, Elizabeth had been adamant about it and he had not liked to contradict her. Indeed, she asked for so little in general that it seemed unfair to deny her something which she truly wanted. He suspected that the imminence of motherhood (not to mention the impending ordeal of childbirth) had made her yearn for the support of her family during a time when she would be at her most vulnerable, and truly he could understand that.
By the calculations of Mrs Reynolds and the local midwife whom she had employed on Elizabeth’s behalf, the baby was due to arrive any day now – though the midwife had cheerfully warned Darcy that babies could come early or late, depending on their contrary natures. Darcy hadn’t particularly liked the midwife; to his mind, she seemed exactly like one of the crones in Shakespeare’s Macbeth, constantly quoting ancient folklore and issuing strange advice. He had not particularly enjoyed her lack of respect or her earthy sense of humour, either. And although Elizabeth had said she liked the strange old lady (though why that was, he simply couldn’t imagine), Darcy had felt much more assured by the professional-looking physician whom he had employed from Town.
Over the space of the last few months, Darcy had watched his wife’s swelling midriff with a combination of pride and alarm; he felt both excited and nervous about the impending arrival of their child, but he also felt sick with worry in case anything should happen to either Elizabeth or the baby. As a consequence, he had determined to do all he could to ensure that his wife and child would be well cared for, and so he had gone to the expense of employing a physician of extremely good renown for the purpose of caring for Elizabeth through her labour. Indeed, Darcy had been most impressed when the physician had first arrived at Pemberley several weeks ago in order to examine Elizabeth, for the man had carried himself with an aloof and professional air, and moreover had arrived with an impressive amount of equipment. However, to Darcy’s surprise, Elizabeth had looked with horror at the vast array of bottled medicines and assorted metal implements, almost as though she had expected the doctor to start torturing her in some way. Thus, in the end they had reached a compromise; Darcy had (somewhat reluctantly, it had to be admitted) agreed that the midwife could be called for, in the event that Elizabeth should have need of her, though Darcy had still employed the physician in readiness for the summons to Pemberley – whenever that might be.
Indeed, since no one could quite predict with accuracy when the baby would actually come, the arrival of Elizabeth’s family could either fall after the baby had already arrived, or just as it was imminent. Because of this, Darcy had arranged for the yearly harvest celebration to be moved back a little towards the latter end of October so that Elizabeth would still have the opportunity to take part. All the Bennet family and the Gardiner’s would be arriving to celebrate the event with them, with the exception of Jane and Charles, since Jane was now in her eighth month of pregnancy and was therefore too far gone to risk travelling such a great distance. Fortunately, however, Jane and Charles had visited them in August on their way north to visit some of Charles’ family in Yorkshire, and so Elizabeth hadn’t missed out on seeing her beloved sister entirely. In fact, they had been fortunate to have several visitors that summer, since Mary, Kitty and Lydia had also travelled up to Derbyshire along with Charles and Jane, and they had stayed on at Pemberley until the end of August so as to keep Elizabeth and Georgiana company.
Furthermore, because Elizabeth’s three younger sisters had arranged to be accompanied home by Mary’s fiancé, Mr Richardson, Darcy and Elizabeth had had the opportunity to get to know him a little when he had arrived at Pemberley a few days before they were all due to depart. Mr Richardson had apparently been visiting some relations of his in the neighbouring county, as well as (unsuccessfully, as it turned out) trying to seek a vacant church living there. Darcy had been glad to get to know his future brother-in-law a little better during his visit, and once he had met the young man and had ascertained for himself that he was a sensible and worthy sort of man (though perhaps a little too serious as well), he had been pleased to offer Mr Richardson a living. His uncle, the Earl of Matlock, had been in need of a new vicar for his local parish ever since the last one had been dismissed in disgrace for his slovenly and drunken behaviour, and so it had been extremely providential for both parties that Darcy had been able to offer his future brother-in-law a living, whilst also providing his uncle with a suitable (and sober) candidate for the position.
Nevertheless, despite all the visits they had received that summer, they had not seen Elizabeth’s father since their visit to Hertfordshire in May, and Darcy was aware of just how much she missed him. Although the two of them exchanged letters fairly frequently, it was not the same as being able to talk and laugh and catch up in person, and so Darcy knew that Elizabeth was eagerly awaiting her father’s visit. After their family discussion in May, neither Darcy nor Elizabeth had been surprised when they had finally heard from Mr Bennet in mid-June to inform them of his engagement to Heather McRoy – though Mr Bennet had stated that they would not get married until the coming winter so that Elizabeth would be recovered enough to be able to attend their wedding. Naturally, both Darcy and Elizabeth were keen to get to know the lady who would soon be joining their family, and so the invite to Pemberley had included her as well.
Darcy knew that Elizabeth was somewhat apprehensive about getting to know the woman who would soon become her step-mother, though she had been greatly reassured by her sisters’ reports of her growing familiarity with the family as a whole. Elizabeth had also been rather worried about the somewhat thorny issue of whether or not she and her sisters would have to call their new step-mother ‘mama’, though she had been relieved to hear that the lady herself had suggested that they simply address her as ‘Heather’ whenever they were in private company. With such momentous events happening within the Bennet family, Darcy could well understand why Elizabeth might wish to have all her family around her, as well as to have her future step-mother visit them – but all the same, that did not stop him from worrying that she was doing too much. Even now, he could well imagine that Elizabeth would not be resting, as he had instructed her, and instead she would likely be up on her feet and supervising the servants in making preparations for the arrival of their guests and for the forthcoming harvest celebration. Darcy frowned to himself at the picture he had conjured up in his head, and with such thoughts in mind, he turned his horse around and began to ride back towards Pemberley.
*****
In fact, Darcy did find Elizabeth up and on her feet when he returned to the house and finally located her in the portrait gallery, though the scene he encountered was not the one he had imagined in his head. Instead, he found her flushed and panting, and being supported on either arm by her maid and Mrs Reynolds as she paced unsteadily up and down the hallway. Evidently, her
labour pains had started whilst he had been out; Darcy even suspected that they must have already started before he had left to go on his ride, and Elizabeth had hidden the truth from him. With a feeling of panic, Darcy immediately hastened over to be at her side, feeling utterly horrified that she was on her feet and pacing around instead of being in bed, as she undoubtedly should be.
“Elizabeth!” he cried as he reached her. “Why didn’t you tell me that your pains had started? I wouldn’t have gone out if I’d have known. And what are you doing walking around?” he scolded. “Surely you should be lying down!”
“No, young man,” a familiar voice forthrightly interrupted, “she should be walking around. It helps to loosen the babe; it’s a well-known fact. I told the young mistress to walk every day during her pregnancy and I think it is that which has finally encouraged the little one to come.”
Darcy hadn’t noticed the presence of the additional person at first, but he didn’t need to turn around in order to know who it was who had just spoken so bluntly to him; it was the dreadful crone-midwife whom he’d been persuaded – against his better judgement – to allow into his house to administer care to Elizabeth. But her words really were too much; he turned and glared at her incredulously, almost too angry to properly comprehend what he was hearing. He had been worried every time he had discovered Elizabeth out on one of her walks, and especially so during the latter days of her pregnancy – but to think that Elizabeth had actually been doing so under the irrational instructions of this woman was enough to make him want to strangle her. He knew that farmer’s wives and labouring women would often continue to work right up until the very day of their labour, but surely it was unsafe, and dangerous even, for a woman of gentle birth to be so active during such a delicate time?