Truth about Mr. Darcy (36 page)

Elizabeth, thankful to have her suspicions confirmed at last, said, “Fitzwilliam, indeed, you need not trouble yourself with such thoughts. You know I shall never leave you, and certainly not like that.”

Darcy turned then and faced her, his eyes tortured. “But you and I
cannot
know that, Elizabeth. Not for certain.”

“No,” she said. “No one can ever know anything for certain. We can only put our faith in God and hope for the best. Fitzwilliam, my mother bore five healthy daughters, and she survived each birth with no complications whatsoever. My pregnancy, from what I understand, is much like hers. In any case, you have seen for yourself and heard the doctors’ reassurances that nothing untoward has occurred to give rise to any worry.” She paused for a moment before adding, “I am not your mother, my dearest. I am myself. Though you were quite young then, you must recognize some difference in our circumstances. Can you not?”

He pulled her into his arms. “I can,” he admitted. “I know you are not her, Elizabeth, but it is because of her that I cannot help but to think in such a manner. Believe me when I say I do not wish to dwell upon such wretched possibilities.”

“Then do not,” she commanded softly. “Do not think any longer of such things. Only have faith in me when I say to you all will be well.” He said nothing in response, and Elizabeth said, “Fitzwilliam, I am so very happy I am carrying your child. I want for you to be happy, as well. We have only one short month until we shall become parents. Our privacy—our entire lives—will be greatly altered by this new life growing within me. Do not waste this precious time we have alone together with such dark thoughts. Do not dwell upon what may never come to pass. Rejoice in the knowledge that I love you and our child, and all shall be well in the end.”

Darcy nodded mutely and buried his face in her hair. Breathing deeply, he held onto her with a fervency and an emotion he had not dared in days. “Tell me again that you will not leave me, Elizabeth,” he whispered in a pleading voice.

“Never,” she promised with absolute finality. “I shall live a long, healthy life and bear you ten children, tormenting you daily with my impudence.”

Darcy laughed as he hugged her tighter.

Elizabeth smiled and placed a kiss upon his cheek. “Come,” she said. “It has been a long day, and I believe we are both in dire need of rest, my love. Let us retire and think no more of this.”

***

Many hours later, Darcy lay awake, unable to find repose, but, miraculously, not due to any tormenting thoughts that might have plagued him earlier. Elizabeth had been tossing in their bed for more than two hours, attempting to find a position she could abide for longer than ten minutes. The air had grown quite hot and uncharacteristically oppressive for Derbyshire, even for August, and Darcy longed to bring her some relief, though he hardly knew how. Finally, Elizabeth sat up and dropped her head into her hands. “I feel as though I will never again sleep longer than two hours altogether. I am so hot and uncomfortable, Fitzwilliam,” she whined.

Darcy sat up, as well, and rubbed her lower back. He hoped the circular motion might soothe her. “I am sorry, my love,” he said as he placed a kiss upon her exposed shoulder, where he then rested his chin. “I wish there was anything I could do to make you feel better. You know I would gladly take on your discomfort myself if it meant you would be easy. Perhaps a cool bath would do much to ease your suffering? Shall I ask Sonia to draw one for you?”

“No, it is now nearly three o’clock in the morning. Certainly, Sonia is asleep, and I would not wish to wake her, but,” Elizabeth said with a sly smile, “I do believe a swim in the lake would feel heavenly right now.” She threw off the tangled sheets with much enthusiasm, reached for her discarded shift and dressing gown, and then slid rather awkwardly from the bed.

Darcy leapt after her, and his concern for her safety returned in full force. “Elizabeth, certainly not. You shall be seen, and it could be dangerous. Do you not recall anything of our conversation? You are now heavy with child and should not be exerting yourself thus.”

“Nonsense. No one is about at this hour, and I hardly think you would allow me to go alone, in any case. The cool water shall bring me some relief, I am sure of it.” She patted her bulging stomach and grinned. “If anything, I shall be more buoyant with this ample body of mine. Indeed, I am convinced it is perfectly safe.”

Clearly unconvinced, but unwilling to argue with her, Darcy sighed. “Can I not persuade you to see reason?” he asked as Elizabeth fastened the belt of her dressing gown and busied herself by retrieving several towels from the edge of Darcy’s large copper tub.

“None whatsoever.” She smiled then arched her brow and extended her hand to him. “Come, Fitzwilliam. I suggest you make haste and dress yourself, sir. The lady of the lake beckons, and you know it is abominably rude to keep a lady waiting.”

With the coming of September, so came Mrs. Bennet to Derbyshire for an extended stay under her son-in-law’s expansive roof. Much to the consternation of Pemberley’s master and mistress, Elizabeth’s mother was determined to be present for the birth of her first grandchild, whose impending arrival she did not expect until the following month. Having anticipated their wedding vows by more than a fortnight, however—and convinced their unborn child had been conceived during one of the amorous interludes preceding their marriage—Darcy and Elizabeth had decided to allow the world to believe the birth a premature one. Early births were not so uncommon, after all, and Elizabeth’s labor would take place without the presence of family members and friends and, most especially, the presence of Elizabeth’s mother.

It was not to be, however, for the prospect of spending several months among the grandeur and wealth of Pemberley’s halls and grounds proved to be far too much of a temptation for the mistress of Longbourn to pass up, and though her husband had attempted to dissuade her from making the trip, his objections only served to make her all the more determined to go. Even after Mr. Bennet informed his wife that Longbourn’s harvest would prevent his accompanying her on the two to three-day journey, and the horses would most certainly be required in the field, her resolution—and her excessive complaining—eventually won out, and in the end, her husband, now desperate for the peace and quiet her absence would afford him, sent her north to his son-in-law.

The first week of her visit was all it had promised to be. Mrs. Bennet spent the majority of her time flitting from room to room, making suggestions for various changes to the wallpaper, furniture, draperies, and floral arrangements. She even went so far as to take it upon herself to alter the menu for the evening meals. Knowing her husband to be far from pleased with the authority her mother was so brazenly assuming in his home, Elizabeth attempted to curb her behavior, but with little success. Mrs. Bennet was so full of effusions and suggestions, gossip and idle chatter, that she soon wore down her daughter, who felt more fatigued as the day of her confinement approached. That a good portion of Elizabeth’s exhaustion stemmed from her mother’s seemingly boundless supply of verbal energy did not go unnoticed by Pemberley’s vigilant staff.

Deciding it was the only way in which Elizabeth might gain a reprieve from her mother’s enthusiastic company, Mrs. Reynolds frequently insisted her mistress retire abovestairs and rest. Though she was grateful to the housekeeper for her kind solicitation, Elizabeth found she dearly missed the companionship of her sisters. Lydia had since gone off to school in London with Mary and Kitty, and Georgiana had also removed to Town. She was now living with her trusted companion, Mrs. Annesley, at Darcy House, where she would remain until Christmas. Though Darcy was always at Pemberley, every day saw him more heavily engaged as he supervised the harvest and tended to matters of estate business with his steward from dawn until dusk, and very often much later. By the time he and Elizabeth retired each night, Darcy barely managed to crawl into bed before he collapsed beside her, his arms wrapped around her as Elizabeth snuggled against the length of his exhausted body. He would find repose quickly as he caressed the enormous, kicking bulge of his wife’s stomach, his other hand tangled in her mass of curls.

In the final days leading up to the birth, Elizabeth’s discomfort grew to substantial proportions—and not merely all of it physical. Her mother’s keen observations of her daughter’s condition were growing more astute with each passing hour, and made all the worse by Mrs. Bennet loudly extolling that, had she not known better, she would be quite certain Elizabeth’s time was very nearly upon her. What more could Elizabeth do besides offer her an awkward turn of her mouth and steer the conversation to any topic that might prove more successful in diverting her mother’s attention from the obvious?

After experiencing several days of extreme discomfort, Elizabeth felt the first pains of her labor begin early one September morning several hours after the sun had begun its ascent over the horizon. She had been parted from her husband since dawn, as his presence was required to tend to a rather heated dispute that had been escalating between two tenants for days. Wishing to feel closer to Darcy, she chose to remain in their bed in the master’s chambers, where they had passed the entirety of every night in each other’s arms. The pains were nothing more than slightly uncomfortable, and Elizabeth felt a thrill travel through her at the prospect of soon holding her child in her arms. Knowing she would need her strength for the delivery and realizing it would be many hours yet until the babe would be born, she closed her eyes with the intention of resting herself. Sleep did not come easily, however, as her pains slowly advanced—both in intensity and frequency—and, with it, her anxiety at the prospect of giving birth. She knew she should alert someone to her current situation and rang for Sonia.

Sonia arrived to see her mistress breathing heavily as a wave of pain hit her. “Oh, ma’am!” she exclaimed. “I believe your time has come! I shall fetch Mrs. Reynolds at once!”

Elizabeth reached out her hand to prevent her from leaving. The young woman took it and exerted a gentle pressure. “Sonia, I wish to have Mr. Darcy informed that my pains have begun. He is currently seeing to a dispute between Mr. Roberts and Mr. Gordon. Please have someone go to him at once.”

Sonia nodded. “At once, ma’am, but I shall send Mrs. Reynolds to you in the meantime. The master would never forgive me if I were to leave you alone.”

Mrs. Reynolds arrived in very good time and took charge immediately, arranging Elizabeth’s pillows, smoothing the bed linens, and seeing to her every comfort. The housekeeper’s calm demeanor went a long way in soothing some of Elizabeth’s rising panic. “It will help if you walk, Mrs. Darcy,” Mrs. Reynolds advised. “Such activity has been known to hasten delivery.”

Obediently, Elizabeth nodded and allowed the woman to assist her as she stood and slowly began to make her way about the apartment, wincing as her pains escalated. Sonia returned and hurried to support her mistress on her other side. Several hours passed without any news or even so much as a word from Darcy, and Elizabeth became progressively ill at ease as her pains continued to grow.

Though it had not been her intention to draw him from his duties simply to sit idly by her side to attend her, Elizabeth had imagined Darcy would have been eager to join her as soon as he was able or, at least, to send her some small missive if he found himself not yet at liberty to do so. His absence thus far caused her more anxiety than she felt she would have experienced otherwise. She found it difficult to refrain from worrying about his safety. “Mrs. Reynolds,” Elizabeth finally inquired as she panted after a particularly strong contraction, “are you quite certain Mr. Darcy has been informed of my condition?”

The housekeeper squeezed her hand and smoothed back her hair. “I am, ma’am. Several footmen have been sent out to him, but as he is on the far side of the estate and currently embroiled in a very pressing matter of business, I am afraid it will be some time yet before he shall be at liberty to tear himself away.”

Mrs. Reynolds did not reveal to her mistress that she had been told the dispute between the two tenants had since grown quite serious and was rumored to have escalated to such distressing proportions that, within the last half hour, the magistrate had to be sent for, as well. Darcy, per Mrs. Reynolds’s instruction, had been assured Elizabeth was doing well, and therefore, the housekeeper saw no need for him to cast aside his urgent business in order to hurry home for a birth that, while being of monumental import to the entire estate, was not likely to take place for many hours yet, certainly not until well after nightfall.

At noon, Elizabeth was persuaded to partake of a light meal in her room to keep up her strength, and toward teatime, as darkness began to loom over the house, she was much relieved to hear a flurry of activity just outside in the hall. In the next instant, however, Elizabeth’s heart sank as her mother, rather than her husband, entered her room, breathless and extremely vexed. “Lizzy! So it is true, then! Your time has come, I see, and a good deal early, too! Why was I not informed of it immediately? These things can be terribly trying for a young woman, as I am well aware. It is very fortunate for you that I am here to help you through it, child. I shudder to think of you being all alone with no one but the servants to assist you.” Mrs. Bennet suddenly noticed Mrs. Reynolds and Sonia tending to her daughter, and she frowned.

Elizabeth groaned, and though her mother thought it merely the onset of another labor pain, Mrs. Reynolds and Sonia knew enough of their mistress to suspect it stemmed more from Elizabeth’s reaction to her mother’s offensive words and often overbearing presence than anything else. “Mama, I did not wish for you to be disturbed. It is not yet time for the babe to be born. I assure you, I am perfectly fine,” she gasped as another contraction came upon her, and her attention was diverted elsewhere. A pointed look passed between Mrs. Reynolds and Sonia then, and with a comprehensive nod, the younger woman rose to dispatch another footman with a note for the master.

Within a half hour, Elizabeth’s labor progressed rapidly, the midwife was sent for, and Pemberley’s mistress was removed to the birthing room. She was now in much pain.
Where on earth is Fitzwilliam?
she wondered in panic as her mother, having repeatedly boasted of her own success at having borne her husband five healthy daughters, launched an ill-advised campaign instructing the midwife on how best to do her duty.
Surely he should have come to me by now! What could be wrong? I know very well that something must be terribly wrong!
Mrs. Bennet, even though Elizabeth knew she meant well, was far from exuding a calming influence over those present—most especially, the mistress of the house. Indeed, it was all Elizabeth could do to restrain herself from ordering her mother from the room.

“Take several deep breaths now, Mrs. Darcy,” the midwife instructed in an authoritative voice. “I believe it is almost time to begin pushing, but not quite yet.”

Oh, God, Fitzwilliam, where are you?
Elizabeth wanted to cry, her terror steadily augmenting.

***

Darcy’s anxiety for his wife had grown throughout the course of the day until it nearly threatened to consume him as he was forced to deal, first, with two unreasonable tenants who had threatened to do each other grievous harm over a fertile parcel of land between their properties and, then, with the magistrate and his men. Had it not been for the gravity of the situation, which his steward had assured him would have undoubtedly escalated to horrendous proportions far sooner if Darcy had failed to remain with his tenants to assert control over the situation, the master of Pemberley would have quit the scene the very moment he had received word of his wife’s condition.

By the time he had been handed a second missive from Sonia, stating that Elizabeth was in need of him, Darcy knew he had already done everything within his power to defuse the hostile situation. His steward had agreed there was little left for him to do, and as the magistrate was now on hand to restore order after Mr. Roberts’s violent attack against Mr. Gordon, Darcy wasted no time taking his leave of the officials. He found he could not ride fast enough or arrive soon enough, and, as he approached the front entrance of Pemberley House, Darcy barely took the trouble of reining in his lathered mount before he leapt from the saddle and took the steps two at a time. He burst through the doors and raced up the main staircase to his wife’s chambers, only to find them empty. In a panic, he ripped open the door that connected her room with his, and his heart nearly stopped beating. The bed had been stripped clean and stood before him, its cold starkness taunting him from the center of the room. Dread flowed through his veins, and he ran a trembling hand across his mouth, his thoughts a wild jumble of desperation. He prayed he had not arrived too late.

Down the hall, Darcy heard his mother-in-law’s abrasive voice screeching orders to someone and then a strangled cry of pain that could only have come from Elizabeth. Such sounds had never been so welcome to his ears, and he suddenly felt his strength return in full force. Darcy raced from the room, his heart pounding in his chest, and all but tore the door to the birthing room off its hinges. He was greeted by the shocked faces of Mrs. Bennet, Mrs. Reynolds, Sonia, and a surly-looking woman he could only assume was the midwife. Mrs. Bennet stepped forward and turned him unceremoniously from the room.

“Mr. Darcy, certainly this is no place for a man, sir! I shall send word to you when it is over,” she said before she turned from him and retreated back into the room. The door closed behind her.

His eyes narrowed at being thus treated in his own home, Darcy forced the door open with his hand. “No. My wife has sent for me, and I intend to see her.” His voice was firm, resolute, and filled with anger.

Mrs. Bennet, however, waved him off. “You most certainly shall not. As I have said, a man has no place in a birthing room. I will ask you again, sir, to leave at once. You can be of no help to Lizzy while she is in such a state. You would only be in the way, to say nothing of the impropriety of your presence during such goings-on.”

Elizabeth cried out then, and Darcy’s fury reached its boiling point. “Mrs. Bennet!” he hollered. “You will step aside, madam, or I shall not be responsible for my actions! I
will
see my wife, and I will see her now!” He pushed past her and strode to Elizabeth’s side.

The expression of relief that flooded her features was apparent to all. “Fitzwilliam,” she whispered as she held out a trembling hand.

Darcy knelt at her side, placing kisses upon the hand he grasped between his own. “I am here, my love. I am here,” he said as he moved her damp curls from her face. “Forgive me. I would have been here far sooner had I only—”

Another strangled cry was issued forth from his wife. Instinctively, Darcy placed his lips upon Elizabeth’s hair as she bit down upon her lower lip with such force that a drop of blood appeared. Darcy blanched and removed it with his thumb.