The Darcys of Pemberley (14 page)

“I see that he has set the mark very high for
me,” said Darcy.

“You are correct,” Elizabeth agreed. “I want
you to know that I took careful notice of Mr. Bingley’s
thoughtfulness. So, husband, do not be uneasy. If you are at a loss
for how to take care of me in the months to come, I can instruct
you.”

“Thank you, Lizzy,” he said. “That is a very
great comfort indeed. Yet I assure you, I have a few ideas of my
own about how best to tend to my wife.”

His manner of delivering this pleasantry
betrayed no trace of his double meaning. And, with his innocent
sister present, Elizabeth chose to be discrete as well, giving
Darcy a chastening look but otherwise letting his private joke pass
without comment. For her part, Georgiana did not trouble herself
about the remark; she was by now accustomed to the fact that she
did not always fully comprehend what passed between her brother and
his wife.

In a change of subject, Darcy continued, “By
the way, I had an unexpected visitor while you were gone to
Heatheridge. Fitzwilliam stopped here briefly yesterday
morning.”

“Really? I am sorry to have missed him,” said
Elizabeth, with a furtive glance at Georgiana to see how she bore
the mention of the colonel’s name.

“Yes. He was on his way back to Kent and
stopped to offer his congratulations to us. It is unfortunate that
you were away, for we shan’t see him again until we get to town. He
tells me he will be needed at Rosings from now until the wedding,
which is set for the second week of June.”

Hoping to redirect the conversation into
safer territory, Elizabeth asked, “Now you mention it, when do you
think we shall be leaving for London? Have you fixed on a date
yet?”

“I know you would not consider leaving until
Jane is safely delivered,” he began. “Barring any unforeseen
complications, though, we should be on our way a week or two
following, and stay at least until after the wedding. Would that
suit you, Georgiana?”

“What? Oh, just as you like, brother. It
matters very little to me,” she answered absently.

“This is your first full season. I thought
you would be more enthusiastic. All your friends will be in town as
well,” he said.

“Yes, I know,” Georgiana agreed.

“And I am sure the Heywoods are eager to see
you again,” said Elizabeth. “What do you hear from Andrea?”

“Just as you say, she is eager for me to come
to London. Still, I think she writes more for her brother’s sake
than for her own. Her letters are full of references to Henry. She
raves about his accomplishments and goes on and on describing his
activities, as if she thinks I am violently in love with him, or
she wishes me to be so.”

Elizabeth laughed. “You cannot fault her for
that, Georgiana. After all, I recall that you did a very effective
job of promoting the admirable qualities of your own excellent
brother when we first met.”

“I trust you found all my assertions accurate
and are not sorry for having listened to them.” She received
Elizabeth’s nodding assent. “As for Henry Heywood, I am unconvinced
that he fully deserves all the homage his sister pays him.”

“Then perhaps this trip to town will persuade
you,” suggested Elizabeth. “There is nothing like seeing a man at
home – in his normal surroundings and about his business – to give
one a clear picture of his true character and worth. Outside of
that environment, it is difficult to judge him rightly.”

Elizabeth said this with her own experience
in mind, recalling how different Mr. Darcy seemed when she
encountered him at Pemberley for the first time. By then, some of
her previous misconceptions about him had been banished, and he had
deliberately amended his manners. Yet that could not explain the
transformation entirely. Even now, she could see the change in him
at home compared to away. Away from Pemberley, her husband was
never totally at ease, and his rigid constraint too often apt to be
interpreted as false pride by those who did not know him well.
Contrariwise, at home, there was none of that awkwardness; he was
cordial to guests and visitors, liberal with his servants and
tenants, and comfortable within himself.

~*~

For Elizabeth, this was a season of waiting –
waiting for Jane’s imminent delivery, waiting for her own time to
come, waiting for the trip to London and Fitzwilliam’s wedding, and
waiting for a reply from Lady Catherine. The last came first, as it
happened. Although the subject had hardly been touched upon in the
fortnight since Darcy’s letter went out, it was never far from
Elizabeth’s mind. Each time the post arrived, she silently wondered
if there would be any word from Lady Catherine. Finally, they had
her letter in hand. She and Darcy read it together.

Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy,

Pemberley, Derbyshire

My Nephew,

I confess that I was very much surprised, but
not displeased, at receiving a letter from you, sir. Although I am
not entirely satisfied with your tone in parts, I can appreciate
the exertion and compromise of pride required of you in writing
it.

I thank you for your compliments concerning
Anne’s upcoming marriage, for which I too have every expectation of
success. I believe Colonel Fitzwilliam will treat my daughter with
the respect she deserves. Anne is a treasure, and I think he fully
comprehends the honor she does him by consenting to be his wife. I
trust that he will prove worthy of this privilege, a privilege that
another gentleman chose to cast aside to his discredit.

As for this estrangement between us, I must
admit that it is a matter of some regret for me as well. I am sure
no one respects the value of family connections more than I do
myself. Although I have not yet learnt to repent of the conviction
that you acted wrongly in marrying beneath you and against the
wishes of all your relations, I concede that my own behavior
subsequently was not above reproach.

Some of the frank sentiments I expressed at
the time would, perhaps, have been better left unsaid. The words
proceeded from a sense of indignation based not simply on an
offense to myself, but also for what I perceived to be an injury to
my daughter. You will soon understand that in defense of one’s
child, of any age, one is apt to do things one otherwise would not.
This must be my excuse.

In future, should you call at Rosings, I
shall receive you. You may bring your wife as well, if you wish. As
I recall, I once found her rather entertaining.

Lady Catherine de Bourgh

“Well, what do you think, Darcy? Are you
satisfied with what she says by way of an apology?”

“I cannot make out if it
is
an
apology, Lizzy. She dances all round the question. She ‘regrets,’
she ‘concedes,’ she ‘excuses,’ she ‘consents’ to receive us again,
but she never actually apologizes, does she? She never says, ‘I was
wrong, and I am sorry for it.’”

“Would that not be too much to hope for, for
such an open confession of guilt? I doubt the woman has ever in her
life admitted she was wrong. I am rather surprised she goes as far
as she does.”

“I suppose it
is
progress that she
acknowledges even this much. For myself, I could be content without
anything more substantial. But I am not satisfied that she has made
any reparation for what she said and did to
you
.”

“Please do not worry on my account.”

“No, no, I must insist on this, Elizabeth.
You are too generous; you would forgive her in a moment. This is a
matter of principle, however, and I shall not give way. Lady
Catherine must repent of her slander and disrespect to you. I will
brook nothing less. If she will not speak her contrition, then she
must demonstrate it. You are not to go and wait upon her,
Elizabeth; Lady Catherine must first come and wait upon you!”

Mr. Darcy, after careful consideration,
decided to send his aunt one further piece of correspondence. He
thanked her for her kind invitation to Rosings Park, but said that
present circumstances would not allow him to accept. He instead
recommended that, should she sincerely wish to restore a state of
good family relations, she might have the courtesy to wait upon
Mrs. Darcy some afternoon while they were in town. This suggestion
was stated in such unequivocal terms as to leave no room to
misunderstand his meaning or to doubt his inexorable will in the
matter.

Deliverance

On the morning of the first day of May, Mr.
Sanditon, who had come as far as Kympton on business, took the
opportunity afforded by his close proximity to call at Pemberley.
By this time, the Darcys were on such familiar terms with the
gentleman that his visits were taken as a matter of course and
always welcomed. He stayed to tea, and then the four friends walked
out into the gardens to enjoy the fine day.

This particular visit was cut short by the
arrival of a messenger come on horseback from Heatheridge with the
news that Mrs. Bingley’s accouchement had begun. Since Elizabeth
had promised to see her sister through the ordeal, this was a call
to action. With apologies to Mr. Sanditon, Darcy ordered a chaise
and four readied at once. He and Elizabeth then hurried back to the
house to prepare for their immediate departure, leaving their guest
in Georgiana’s care.

To Elizabeth, the thirty mile journey seemed
interminable. Scarcely could she sit through it with any measure of
composure, so desperately did she long to be at Jane’s side. Her
mind vacillated between happy anticipation and foreboding when she
considered what lay ahead. Having known more than one woman who
lost her life in childbed, Elizabeth fervently prayed that her dear
sister would not share their fate. Darcy did his best to reassure
his wife, but the only effective relief came when they at last
arrived at Heatheridge.

Elizabeth instantly alighted from the
carriage and ran up the front steps, outstripping her husband in
her impatience. Inside she found an uneasy Mr. Bingley pacing the
hall. “How does my sister do?” she asked him anxiously.

“Elizabeth, Darcy, thank you for coming so
promptly. They tell me all is well, but I have not been allowed to
see Jane myself. I could not bear to watch her suffer in any case.
It greatly relieves my mind that you are here, Elizabeth. She has
been asking for you. You must go to her at once … and be sure to
give her my love …”

Leaving her husband to console his friend,
Elizabeth hurried upstairs. There she found Jane laboring in
earnest, surrounded by female attendants. The throng round the bed
– composed of Mrs. Bennet, Kitty, two maids, and the monthly nurse
– barely left room to admit another. However, Kitty gave way to her
elder sister without hesitation, looking very much relieved to have
an excuse to distance herself from the situation.

Elizabeth quickly drew a chair up to Jane’s
side.

“Oh Lizzy, thank heaven,” Jane cried,
grasping her sister’s hand tightly.

“We came as quickly as we could. Darcy is
downstairs with your husband. I bring you love from them both. Now,
how are you bearing up?”

Before Jane could respond, she was seized by
another spasm. She gripped Elizabeth’s hand all the tighter.

“She suffers most cruelly,” Mrs. Bennet
answered on Jane’s behalf. “Poor thing. This has been going on for
hours now, and you know it may very likely get much worse before it
is over. I remember what pain
I
endured, especially with
you, Lizzy. It is as vivid in my mind as if it happened yesterday.
I thought I should have died! It became so unbearable that….”

“Mama!” Elizabeth interrupted, seeing Jane’s
increasing distress, “you look tired. These exertions are far too
trying for your delicate constitution. You must take some time for
repose now that I am come. Go and rest your nerves. I shall carry
on here and call if you are needed. Kitty, please take our mother
out for some air.”

Mrs. Bennet protested, but presently was made
to see that she must not put her own health at peril by
exasperating her nerves any further. She allowed Kitty to escort
her from the room.

Elizabeth returned her full attention to her
sister, although she felt at a loss for how to lend any
consolation.

After another long minute, the stricken
expression on Jane’s face began to soften, along with the vise grip
on her sister’s hand. “Thank you for managing Mama,” she said,
panting, when the pain at last subsided. “I know she is trying to
be helpful, but….”

“Say no more of that. You can do the same for
me in a few months. I should never be as patient as you are, and I
might say something under duress that I would later regret. Now,
Jane, tell me what you need from me.”

“Just stay by my side. I shan’t be half so
frightened if you are with me, Lizzy.”

“I will not leave you for a minute, dearest.
I promise.” Then, of the nurse Elizabeth asked, “How can I help my
sister? Surely there must be something more I can do.”

“Not much to be done, ma’am, excepting
keepin’ your own self calm and talkin’ to milady kindly. Let ‘er
squeeze yer ‘and if she wants when the pangs come.”

Wave after wave of pain engulfed Jane, each
one more powerful and tenacious than the last. Elizabeth rode the
successive swells with her, giving what scant comfort she could.
Although she carefully maintained a composed exterior for Jane’s
sake, her inner distress increased as her sister’s labor
intensified. For a long while, Jane stifled her anguish, refusing
to let anything above a low moan escape her lips. At length,
however, when her attendants at last convinced her to take the
satisfaction of crying out, her wailing echoed through the halls of
Heatheridge.

“Won’t be long now,” predicted the nurse,
once Jane reported the need to bear down. Yet Jane struggled on for
another hour. Finally, with one last, great effort, the child was
delivered into the nurse’s waiting arms.