Darcy and Fitzwilliam: A Tale of a Gentleman and an Officer (27 page)

Little Harry stood at the doorway, transfixed, fascinated by the scene unfolding before him. Clearly this was one of those moments that Colonel Fitz had told him about, those moments in a gentleman's life where he must care for the welfare of his ladies. He slipped his hand from the distracted maid's and walked purposefully up to his mother. He crouched down, holding his knees tight, and stared intently, first into his mother's face and then into Lizzy's. "Is Mrs. Darling unwell, Mama?" He squinted, examining Lizzy's face closely, deciding what he saw there could not be good. He was greatly concerned, worried about her weakened appearance. Suddenly he shouted into her ear, "
Did the Frenchies do this to you, madam
?!" Lizzy turned a surprised look at him and then at Amanda.

"We are having a bit of a problem with the concept of the French," Amanda explained to her quietly. She turned to her son. "Dearest, despite what the colonel says, French people are not responsible for all the pain in the world."

Harry's eyes rounded as he stared back at her, clearly registering his doubt as to that statement. He then looked behind them on the carpet. He tugged on her sleeve. "Mummy...?" he whispered.

"Dearest, why don't you wait for Mummy in the other room. Mary, could you please take him out to the sitting room?"

"But, Mummy," he whispered again, anxiously.

"Mummy is very busy at the moment, sweetheart. Go with Mary now."

"But, Mummy, look. Mrs. Darling has wet the carpet. Will she be in trouble? Oh, I hope not. She's not well. Will Mr. Darling make her sleep outside like Grandmama makes Ruffles?" His eyes were wide with concern, and he placed a protective hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. Again, he shouted into Elizabeth's ear, "
I say, will you be in trouble? Please do not be afraid. I shall protect you."
He lowered his voice and turned back to Amanda to plead for leniency. "I don't think she meant to do it, Mummy. You see, she is not feeling at all well. I think she must be very old, poor dear."

"Oh fiddles." Amanda had not heard Harry's rather rude comment about Lizzy's advanced age. Amanda had been staring where her son was pointing, at the large water stain on the carpet. She looked back at Elizabeth.

"Mary," she called over to the maid. "Go downstairs and get someone from the household up here immediately. Look everywhere. Please take Harry into the next room. Harry, you will remain in the sitting room, and you will behave like the wonderful boy you are, all right, my angel?" The maid grabbed Harry's hand but remained motionless, staring wide-eyed as Lizzy struggled with her growing fright.

"Mrs. Darcy, I am afraid that, early or not, your baby is coming quite quickly." Amanda helped Lizzy off with her wet underclothes then to lie back on the bed, placing pillows beneath her head. She ran to a cupboard and grabbed sheets from within.

"After you bring someone up here, I want you go back downstairs and wait for Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mary, do you understand? Are you listening to me?"

The maid began backing out of the room. "I'll just take Sir Harry with me now, mum."

"No!" Amanda felt a sudden apprehension. "Please just settle Sir Harry into the adjoining sitting room and leave him there, where I can see him." At her maid's raised eyebrows, Amanda almost succumbed to the urge to shout. "Give him that Mother Goose book from my valise to read and then go and wait for the colonel downstairs. Harry, you will wait in the next room and read aloud to Mrs. Darcy and me. That will help Mrs. Darcy very much. Do not stop reading--read very loudly, Harry, until the colonel comes for you!"

When she looked back down into Elizabeth's eyes, they were bright with terror. "Mrs. Darcy, please listen to me. There can be only one of two things happening here. Either your physician has made an error in your delivery date, or"--she hesitated with the second, knowing it was the most dangerous of the two for the child--"or the baby is coming early. If it is the former, I will be perfectly able to assist you. I have assisted in many births at my father's hospital in Boston."

Elizabeth fought off her panic. "What if it is the latter?"

Amanda swallowed. "I don't really think it is."

Elizabeth looked straight up at the ceiling and nodded.

After waiting patiently through a few minutes of quiet counting, Elizabeth squeezed Amanda's hand. "Mrs. Fitzwilliam, I have heard that extreme stress or shock can bring on labor. Is that true?" Amanda dampened a cloth in cool water and gently wiped Elizabeth's forehead then used her fingers to tenderly comb her hair back from her face.

"I have heard that also, and it may be possible, although my father never mentioned that. Why do you ask?"

Elizabeth stared intently back at her. "I received a letter that upset me to such an extent that I initiated the fight with Mr. Darcy and drove him to walk out." Another pain shot through Elizabeth, and she gripped Amanda's hand convulsively. "He is really such a good man. He looks so calm on the surface but is in actuality more like a duck. All the turmoil is going on beneath the surface."

Amanda smiled, holding Elizabeth's hand. "You must love him a great deal."

"I love him more than my life."

***

It was nearly twenty minutes later, and the contractions appeared to have abated. As Lizzy relaxed, her curiosity returned. "So I am now wondering whether my husband was aware of your coming here this evening. He never informed me."

Amanda sat beside Lizzy, holding her hand and dabbing a cool cloth across her forehead. "You know how men are. I mean besides the general lack of imagination or patience on their part, they are really quite unable to deal with more than one situation." She wrinkled her nose. "It is best when they are presented with one problem at a time, you know. Anything more than that seems to muddle their thinking."

"I agree with you completely. The bigger picture is all they see, and they never concern themselves with small details like packing or servants or food. The most terrifying words I ever hear William utter are"--Lizzy dropped her voice several registers and sounded very aristocratic--"All that is required, Elizabeth, is...' After he makes that pronouncement, I know it will probably be up to me to get the impossible accomplished."

"And have you noticed that they never listen? I swear to it," continued Amanda. "I tell Richard times, and he arbitrarily adds or subtracts a half hour...always. When I speak, he nods and nods, but he never remembers what I say. But then of course, he cannot remember what I said because he did not listen in the first place. Now, this evening he was to be at the door at seven in the evening. I waited another half hour but could not wait a moment longer, and we took off on our own. He never listens."

"Do you love him very much?" Elizabeth smiled up at Amanda.

"With all my heart."

***

"Can Mrs. Darling hear me, Mummy?" Harry called out from the adjoining room. "Am I helping her?"

"Yes, dearest. You are helping Mrs. Darling very much."

Harry was into his fifth rendition of Mother Hubbard, none of them the same, the many words he could not read replaced by his vivid imagination. He had a gift for creating fanciful tales from the kernels of his children's stories, embellishing details and adding his own characters and animal sounds. For this reading, Mother Hubbard was a woman named Mrs. Darling, deathly ill with a stomach ache from eating green apples and currently having a baby in France. She and her baby were then going to eat chocolate cake. Amanda and Lizzy both smiled in amusement as they listened.

Then the pains began again, growing closer in time and much greater in intensity. "I believe you are now two minutes apart. Things should be moving more quickly now." Amanda leaned over Lizzy and gently smoothed back the sweat-dampened hair that had matted on her forehead. "Mrs. Darcy, I will try to feel for the child, if I have your permission?"

Elizabeth nodded and then smiled, her eyes crinkling in amusement. "I think that we are embarking onto a level of acquaintance where we may begin calling each other by our Christian names, do you not agree, Cousin Amanda?"

Amanda laughed as she sat on a stool between Lizzy's legs. "Yes, I believe you are right, Cousin Elizabeth."

Another contraction hit Elizabeth like a thunderbolt, and she grabbed at the sheets, her body constricted in pain. Amanda waited a moment until the pain subsided, and then, while she pressed her hand on Lizzy's abdomen, she felt for the baby's head, finding it very near the opening. She was telling Lizzy to be prepared soon to push when a familiar voice was heard from the downstairs' landing. It was Fitzwilliam, calling out first Amanda's name and then Elizabeth's.

Fitzwilliam walked into the empty foyer and looked about, frightened by the unusual quiet. His first impression was that someone had broken into the house and, beginning to panic, he called out his wife's name, then Darcy's and Elizabeth's. The stillness in the house was suddenly broken by a scream from the upstairs and Amanda's voice calling to him.

"Amanda!" he shouted, terrified, then was relieved when she called out calmly to him again, "I'm fine, Richard... fifty-one, fifty-two... up in the bedrooms... fifty-five..."

"I was by Penwood House at eight exactly. Why did you not wait for me?" Richard protested as he climbed the steps, up to the living quarters. "That is completely unacceptable, Amanda. Whatever were you thinking, walking around the streets alone?"

At the sight of the colonel entering the dressing-room doorway, Harry whooped happily and threw down his book. He ran toward him, leaping into his outstretched arms. "Hello, son. Whatever is going on in here?" The colonel stopped cold at the sight of the broken sitting-room door, overturned tables, and debris littering the floor of the hallway.

Harry took a deep breath. "Well, it is all very exciting. Mrs. Darling has been hurt by the Frenchies and is crying, but Mummy said she won't be made to sleep outside for wetting the carpet." Harry scratched his earlobe and nodded his head seriously while he relayed his version of the night's events. He took another deep breath. "Mrs. Darling is crying really very loudly sometimes because her tummy hurts, and she is anxious that when someone named William comes home and sees the wet carpet, he will be angry and spank her. She keeps calling his name out and says she loves him, though. She feels really, really sick, and we must protect her. Mama thinks she may throw up a baby."

Just then another contraction brought yet another, even louder scream from Elizabeth. Putting Harry down, Fitzwilliam ran into the room.

"What's going on in here?" he demanded. "Amanda, are you all right?"

At first he saw only his wife, and then his eyes found Lizzy on the bed. He spun around, uttering a startled, "Oh my God!" Lizzy's bare feet and part of her legs were peeking out from under the sheet that Amanda had placed for privacy over her open and bent knees.

"Richard, thank heavens you're here. Please find someone to fetch the doctor immediately, and the midwife. I sent Mary down ages ago, but I don't understand what's taking so long, and where is everyone?"

"Hello, Richard." Lizzy's voice was very faint.

"I saw no one when I entered, not even Darcy. For God's sake, where is he? He's been a hovering pain in the ass for eight months!"

"They had a disagreement, and he walked out, left the poor thing alone and unguarded."

"If I could just say something in his defense." Lizzy lifted her finger to gain attention.

"The fool is nearing a breakdown. He probably just needed to get out of the house and walk it off. He'll return."

"Well, I hope you're right. Anyway, can you please take Harry somewhere safe? I was so frightened before; it appeared as if Mary was going to walk off with him."

"I told you to wait for me, did I not? Then you would not have needed to bring that maid with you. You never listen to reason. You're always in such a rush..."

"Pardon me...hellloooo. Remember me?" Lizzy's exasperation with them both was unexpectedly cut short. Her face contorting into a dumb show of horror, she clutched at the sheet, her knuckles turning so white it looked as if bare bones were grabbing the covers. Writhing with mind-numbing pain, she abandoned any thought of humiliation that Richard was witnessing her terror, witnessing her body being torn in two. Her eyes clenched tightly shut, and her shoulders came up off the bed with her grinding yowl. The contractions were coming in constant waves, increasing in their intensity as she felt the alien body within her begin to shift. After several excruciating moments, she gasped, the endless internal tightening finally easing, her cries dying off with a muffled sob. After a moment, she took a deep breath of relief, pushing her sweat-soaked hair back from her forehead.

"Elizabeth, how very nice to see you. I am sorry, however, that you seem to be in some discomfort." Fitzwilliam had no idea what would constitute proper conversation in such a situation.

He chose poorly.

"Discomfort?" Lizzy stared at him in stunned disbelief. "
Discomfort!
Why you... Sir, try pulling a ten-pound capon through your left nostril, and then we shall speak of
discomfort
!"

Fitzwilliam wanted to dissolve into the floor. "Well, forgive me, Elizabeth. I certainly did not mean to offend. Are you well, then?"

Lizzy was panting and furious. "
No! I am in agony, you lackwit
! And let me tell you, someone had better get this thing out of me and be quick about it!" Then Lizzy gave another howl of pain. "
And find my husband--now
!"

"Right. I'll be off then." Swiftly turning on his heel, Fitzwilliam ran from the room and snatched up little Harry on his way. He continued running across the hall and down the grand staircase. "Harry, let's make ourselves scarce, shall we?" When he reached the foyer, he came upon some returning servants hesitantly peeking around the corner, turning and looking curiously around at the empty room, frightened by the disembodied screams. Mr. and Mrs. Winters appeared in the doorway, coming up from the servants' floor below.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam! What are you doing here? Where is the night butler?"

"Winters, get the doctor here at once. Mrs. Darcy has begun her labor." Mr. Winters immediately signaled a footman as Fitzwilliam turned to speak with Mrs. Winters. "You are needed upstairs without delay, I am afraid. Tell me, do any of you know the whereabouts of Mr. Darcy?"

They all looked at one another sheepishly. Lizzy's maid, Cara, hurried forward and began relating to Fitzwilliam the horrible fight that had taken place between the Darcys--apparently a brawl with enough slamming doors to send the few remaining staff scurrying downstairs.

"There was a letter from that horrible Miss Bingley, and then they both just went mad." Cara's eyes were huge with worry and terror. "I must go up to my mistress!"

Good Lord, he'll kill himself if he's run out just when she needs him!
"All right, everyone, we must find Mr. Darcy immediately. Winters, please organize runners. Send out every available servant across the city. Search him out first in his usual destinations. I will provide you with alternate locations if that fails. Go! I don't care whom they inconvenience or embarrass, just find him! Has anyone gone for the doctor yet?"

"Yes, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I have just sent Chippers out. It should not be long now, sir."

"Where's Mrs. Fitzwilliam's maid?"

Winters stared at him. "Whose maid, sir?"

"Mrs. Fitzwilliam, Winters. Oh, I forgot you don't know. I have recently married. My wife arrived here this evening with one of the maids from Penwood House. She should be here somewhere."

"I haven't seen any maid, sir, but I shall go down directly and ask." Fitzwilliam nodded and shifted Harry to his other arm.

"Congratulations, if I may say so, Colonel."

"Thank you, Winters. Now let's get this place humming!"

"Yes, Colonel!"

***

Fitzwilliam returned upstairs and stood helplessly outside Lizzy's door, wanting to help but ridiculously terrified of venturing inside. He was still holding Harry in his arms. "Is Mrs. Darling going to die, Colonel Fitz?" Harry's face was hidden in Fitzwilliam's neck, his little fists clutching the colonel whenever he heard Lizzy cry out.

"No, Harry. Mrs. Darcy is not going to die." The poor little boy should not have to worry about such adult things, but Richard felt it important to be close at hand if Amanda needed him. After all, he reasoned to himself, he had endured the horrors of his own army gone mad at Badajoz, had fought the Frogs in hand-to-hand combat at Salamanca, was a hero of Waterloo--no, he would not retreat.

"You see, Harry," he began, "childbirth is a mystical and spiritual experience for a woman, son, and though it may be somewhat painful, a woman doesn't mind the pain. In fact, she welcomes it, greets it with open arms, because she will have a child like you to love when it is over."

Just then they heard Lizzy viciously scream, "Never again...
never
again... If he ever attempts to touch me, I shall kill him, I shall cleave his tongue..."

Ignoring this, a rapidly pacing Richard continued, his voice louder to cover her words. "As I was saying, Harry, although women are typically timid and not physically strong as men are, they are by nature gentle and soft spoken, compassionate and selfless. That is why the good Lord gave this responsibility to them. Childbirth is a joy which completes a woman. It is what gives her life meaning and purpose..."

Elizabeth then let out another, louder scream which included a string of obscenities that had not had its equal since his dear friend Major Patrick Harrison had been shot in the fanny during a duel of honor outside of Copenhagen.

"...or maybe not. Time to call retreat, Harry."

***

He went downstairs and took a chair in the smaller front parlor, near a window within view of the doorway so that he could look both outside and into the long hallway should someone come. He settled the exhausted Harry onto his lap, cuddling the child's head and kissing his soft cool hair. He then set about removing the child's shoes and coat.

"Are you and Mummy really married?"
An important lesson learned, Fitzwilliam--little children have big ears.
Harry was struggling to keep his eyes open while still managing to clutch his tattered cloth horsey tightly in alternating arms as his coat sleeves were being tugged off.

"Yes, Harry. Your mother and I married, but we had to keep it a secret, even from you."

"Then you're my poppa now?" Harry lifted his face up to the colonel and smiled with such a sincere look of love and adoration that it gave Richard's heart a wrenching tug.

"Yes, Harry. I am your poppa now. And you are my son."

Harry stretched his arms around Richard's neck for a hug. He sighed in his contentment. "Good." Then he yawned.

Tears welled in Richard's eyes, his hold tightening on the child. "Well, why don't you snuggle in and try to get some rest? You look very tired, and I've heard these things can take a while. If you like, I can tell you some more of my stories about that horrible little Frenchman."