“He is out in the fields, miss.”
“Thank you, George.” Hannah patted his fair head as she stood to face me.
“Madam, it is only three miles to Alderedge, so hopefully, Mrs Cutler should be here anon…”
“Hannah, have you…been present at an event like this before?”
“Yes, madam. I have helped to birth a baby more than once for my sisters. Is it the first time that you have seen—” She paused, not knowing how to continue.
“Yes, it is.” I gulped to think of the significance of the thing before me. “I have never seen a woman labouring in my life.”
I was struck with fear to look upon Mrs Ashby, her body pinned to the bed like a crab, and her face contorted in agony. However, I knew we could not possibly leave her with only the children in the hope this Mrs Cutler may arrive before the event. We were told Edward would inform his father on his way home from Mrs Cutler, but we did not expect or desire Mr Ashby should attend his wife himself. Either Hannah or I could walk back to Pemberley for help, but the round journey would be lengthy, and the other one would be left alone with Mrs Ashby.
“Hannah, we must both stay at least until this Mrs Cutler gets here—maybe longer. You seem to know what you are doing, so you are in charge. What must I do to help?”
Hannah smiled sweetly, relieved of suggesting that role reversal herself. We set about making Mrs Ashby more comfortable by rubbing the small of her back and tying her long hair up. Between pains, she gasped that I should sit in the parlour, that Mrs Cutler would arrive soon, and that she was ashamed to be putting me to so much trouble. I bid her not to worry and got on with the jobs Hannah had given me. I wondered what Mr Darcy would make of me laying cloths upon Mrs Ashby’s hot head and keeping her company at such a time. His disapproval—I knew—was a risk I had to take. All I could do was to try to be useful and not to become too fearful of what may be in store for me. Hannah was calm and competent and did not appear to be afraid. What straits poor Mrs Ashby would have been in if I had been visiting with Georgiana for company!
After one of the pains seemed to decline and Mrs Ashby had calmed, Hannah spoke directly to her. “Mrs Ashby, while you are quiet, I am going to check on you. Do you think we can get you on your back?”
I could not have understood less had she been speaking a foreign tongue, but Mrs Ashby appeared to be in collusion with these odd expressions and began with Hannah’s assistance to roll onto her back. Her legs lay akimbo like those of a sleeping dog. It was a great shock to me when Hannah crouched down at the end of the bed and thrust her hand up Mrs Ashby’s skirts. The poor lady closed her eyes and looked to the side, but otherwise she did not appear to be distressed by this invasive procedure.
“You are getting there, Mrs Ashby, but you may have a while yet. We shall keep you comfortable, and you must keep going. Can you do that?”
Her red face nodded, and she murmured, “Yes.” She was about to speak more but was overtaken by pain and let out a great thundering shriek. I looked about me and wondered how I should bear such pain myself. Matters seemed to continue thus for an eternity, the light changing within the house as the day progressed. Shadows crept across the unadorned walls, and the children were heard to come and go and shuffle about in the next room. I sat beside Mrs Ashby, allowing her to squeeze my hand during her pains and promising her the children were all perfectly fine in the parlour. When circumstances allowed, Hannah and I assisted Mrs Ashby to strip down to her shift. Her dress, I folded and placed on a lonely looking chair by the side of the bed. I observed that the agony seemed to creep up on her and build to a crescendo for a minute before declining, giving the poor creature a moment of peace. I had just begun to feel I knew the pattern of things when they changed radically.
Hannah, upon pushing her hand up Mrs Ashby’s shift for a second time, pronounced she was “open” and asked her, “Do you feel ready to push?” The young woman gave an emphatic, scarlet-faced, and loud, “Yes.” I tried to appear as though I knew what was taking place, but I was lost. Hannah then enlisted me in pulling the lady back over to her front where she crouched, hands and knees upon the bed.
“Madam, if you do not want to be present at this part, I can manage on my own. Maybe you would prefer to sit in the parlour?”
I thought mayhap she had seen the dread upon my face and was trying to spare me the sight of the babe leaving its mother’s body. I thought of the child within my belly, and a strange determination rose within me. “No, Hannah, I shall stay. Just tell me what I must do.”
“Very well, Mrs Darcy. If you could sit at Mrs Ashby’s head and talk to her in an encouraging way, I shall guide the babe out.”
Thus, we proceeded. I perched myself beside Mrs Ashby’s head and, placing my hand on hers, informed her she was doing very well and should continue. Periodically, Hannah would command the lady to “push,” and her face would redden, and its muscles tighten. I knew not how much time passed, only that something momentous was proceeding at a speed and rhythm of its own. From my position, I could not see beyond the curtain of her shift that divided one end of Mrs Ashby from the other. So, it was a surprise to me when Hannah announced that she could see the baby’s head. The temperature in the tiny room had soared, and Mrs Ashby’s straining and groaning increased in strength. Her noises, Hannah’s commands, and even my whispered words seemed to escalate in volume.
“The head’s out now, Mrs Ashby. One more push.” She reddened once more, her fists tightened against the bed sheets, and an infant’s cry tore through the room like a blade.
“It’s a boy!” cried Hannah, who appeared to be busying herself with some implements I had not previously noticed. Mrs Ashby herself had collapsed upon the bed, and I assisted her to lie on her back. The babe was small, red, and screaming furiously, but nobody seemed concerned at this. Hannah had fussed over it for some time, and then she handed it to Mrs Ashby who took the child to her breast. At that moment, a squat woman in her middle years, flustered and short of breath, burst into the room.
“Oh, Annie, I am sorry to keep you waiting for me. I had trouble with little Clara—oh, good gracious.” She fell silent as her eyes fell upon the suckling babe and then moved to me sitting beside its mother.
“Good afternoon, Mrs Cutler, I assume. I am Mrs Darcy. And this is Miss Taverner. We are pleased to meet you.” I looked at Mrs Ashby, and seeing that she was quite beyond speech, I added, “This is the new baby Ashby, who, I am sure, is pleased to meet us all, particularly his mama.”
As soon as I heard the beat of hooves upon the ground outside, I knew it was him. To save the ladies the embarrassment that would surely ensue from Mr Darcy’s knocking on the door at such a moment, I precipitated him and flew outside just as he was descending from his horse to the muddy ground. An urge to rush to him and fling myself into his arms rose inside me like a wave, but I was still. I was—I realised—wearing neither bonnet nor spencer and had just acted the part of local midwife to a tenant farmer’s wife whilst taking orders from my maid. It was not what I imagined he expected from me, and I was suddenly afraid of his reaction. However, it was not anger but confusion that swept over his face. He looked at me hard and moved towards me without hesitation.
“Elizabeth, my God! You have been gone all day. What has kept you here?”
“It is Mrs Ashby’s babe. He has been born, Fitzwilliam! Her time was upon her when we arrived, and there was nobody else to help. I could not leave her. I hope I did right.”
He looked shocked, and his eyes turned away from me slightly. I explained that Mrs Cutler was now on hand, and all appeared to be well in any case, and so we agreed that Hannah and I should return to Pemberley without further ado. It was late. The light was seeping from the sky, and the air was chillier than before. As it happened, our failure to return home earlier had caused a degree of panic. Mrs Reynolds could not recall which tenants we inte
nded to visit, and although James, one of the footmen, had seen us leave, he had not observed our direction of travel. The result was that servants were sent out in all directions to look for us. My husband, who knew I had been worrying about the Ashbys, thought it most likely I would have visited them, and so he set out himself for their cottage. A band of men was combing the woods on foot behind him, and he commanded them to escort Hannah, who presently appeared with my cloak and bonnet, back to Pemberley.
“We shall ride, Elizabeth,” he said turning to me.
“Is somebody bringing Mrs Wollstonecraft?”
“No. You will ride with me.” His hands enclosed my waist, and he lifted me atop his great steed as he spoke. The animal was far taller than my gentle horse, and the distance between me and the ground, as well as my anxiety about how two grown people should ride atop the same horse, troubled me.
“Do not fear, Elizabeth,” he said as he mounted the horse behind me, his left hand pulling my belly in towards him. He told me to lean back into his body, and I did. It was easy to put myself in his hands, and I did so without hesitation. The ride back to the house was fast and furious. Outside of a carriage, I had never in my life travelled at such speed. The horse’s hooves thundered against the damp ground, and chill air lashed my skin as the sky darkened. We went a different route than Hannah and I had taken, and Mr Darcy seemed to know the path by instinct. I felt his strong, hard body behind my back and his breath upon my cheek. He said nothing. When we arrived back at Pemberley, he squeezed me so slightly that I wondered whether it had really happened. As he helped me to the ground, I searched his eyes for some clue, but he gave me none. The light was nearly gone, and I believe he looked away from me. The concerned faces of Georgiana and Mrs Reynolds peered at me as we walked in through the great front door. Was I all right, they wanted to know, and should I like a hot bath? I only nodded and smiled the best smile I could muster. I was suddenly so fatigued and worn by the day’s dramas that I could hardly stand and begged to be excused to my rooms.
“I shall take you up.” Mr Darcy offered me his arm stiffly.
We ascended the stairs, and every inch we travelled seemed to be a torment. My body was heavy with fatigue, and I was famished. Candlelight flickered against his hard, handsome face.
“You are angry,” I said as we arrived in my sitting room.
“I am not angry, Elizabeth… I was worried though. I cannot believe it could not have been…better handled. Mrs Reynolds had no idea where you were. I thought you met with her every morning?”
“We do. We did. But this morning, we discussed the Bingley visit. I did not realise I had to report to her!”
“For your own safety, she should know where you are bound. I should have asked you where you were going, and you should have told both of us. Pemberley is not Longbourn. You cannot wander off whenever the fancy takes you without a word to anyone. This estate is much larger, and if you were to encounter trouble or be hurt…well, it does not bear thinking about.” He turned away from me, and I felt most unjustifiably scolded. I thought he had finished, but he continued. “I cannot believe it did not occur to you that…people…here…would be worried when you did not return. Why on earth did you not send Hannah back with a message if you could not leave yourself?”
“Because I could not possibly have assisted Mrs Ashby without her. I have never officiated at a child’s birth, Fitzwilliam. I hope rather than assume this does not surprise you.” I glanced at his face but saw no evidence he had taken my meaning. “Hannah has and knows what she is about. Mrs Ashby was all alone in the cottage with only the children, and she was…well, she was in great straits with her condition. The only alternative would have been for me to walk back to Pemberley through the wood alone, leaving Hannah, and I do not believe you would have approved.”
“No, certainly not.”
“Well then, I do not believe I had any choice. I did what I thought I must do in the circumstances and…well…maybe it is better to say no more about it.” I turned away from him, my head aching, and my body wilting. “I am very tired, sir. If you do not mind, I will go to bed.”
His footsteps approached me, and I held my breath. He did not touch me, but I felt him close. I could tell from his tone that he had softened. Had I convinced him? Had he heard my voice and understood me? Did I dare hope he regretted his severity to me before? “Elizabeth, you have not eaten. Did you have luncheon?”
“No. There was no time.”
“In that case, you shall certainly not go without your supper as well.” His hands clasped my shoulders and sent a shiver through my body. He turned me to him. “If I have a tray of food fetched up here, will you allow me to join you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Good.” He released his grip on me and rang the bell. “I shall send a maid for you and join you in half an hour. We shall not stay up late, but you cannot go to bed without food.” With that, he removed from the room, and one of the younger maids soon attended me; she righted my hair and helped me out of my muddy frock and into a fresh one. I thought of poor Hannah, trudging through the wood in the cold with strange men for company.
“Do you know whether Hannah has returned yet, Milly?”
“I do not know, madam. I have not seen her. Is she a-walking from Haddon?”
“Yes, she is. When she comes in, please, will you tell her that there is no need to check on me? She should go to bed directly.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said quietly as she left the room.
By the time Mr Darcy joined me, I was dozing in a chair by the fire in my sitting room. My eyes blinked open to see him kneeling on the carpet before me and brushing a stray curl from my face. “Elizabeth? Our supper is here.” He indicated a tray spread with plenty and a jug of wine. He smiled tenderly. “You should eat something and then retire. You look very pale. I can see it has been a trying day. I am sorry I spoke harshly before.”
“Well—”
“I…you should know I do not reproach you. I do not think you have done anything wrong. But I think in future, I would like a footman to accompany you and whoever is with you.”
He was not asking me whether I agreed; he was telling me it would be so, and I was too tired to argue. The new gentleness in his tone was not lost on me, and as I have said, when I was alone with him, I wanted nothing more than to please him. And so, as on many previous occasions, I smiled, and he smiled, and the matter remained unresolved. We ate our small repast, and after some trifling talk of the estate and the wet weather, during which I was almost too tired to contribute, it was agreed that we should retire. My eyes were barely open as Milly eased me out of my dress and into my nightgown and brushed my hair. She was about to plait it when I interrupted her. “Please, leave it loose, Milly. Thank you. That will be all.”
“Yes, madam,” she said as she bobbed her way out of the room.
When Mr Darcy arrived, I was just settling myself into the middle of the bed. He caught me arranging my long hair on the pillow, and as he approached, I pushed the cover down for him and smiled. He stroked my arm before climbing into bed beside me. “No, Elizabeth, you are fatigued.” He snuffed out the candle and pulled me into his embrace. His scent enveloped my senses, and his voice echoed through my head. All at once—inexorably, unstoppably, blissfully—I fell asleep.
Chapter Nine
I awoke early on the morning Mr Bingley and his sisters were to arrive to find my husband had risen early and was nowhere to be seen. Hannah drew back the great heavy curtains, and light flew across the room, crashing into every corner and making me squint.
“Good morning, madam. Your bath is drawn when you are ready.”
“Thank you, Hannah. Do you know where Mr Darcy is?”
“Yes, madam. He is in the library with Mr Franks.”
I could not imagine what would take Mr Darcy to meet with his
steward at this time of the morning, but I thought no more of it and allowed Hannah to wash and dress me, indulging her when she chose a slightly more decorative dress than I would usually wear for an ordinary day at home. She said nothing, but I understood she did not want me disgraced in front of Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst. Hannah and I had discussed the Bingley party in veiled terms, and she had revealed that they had often been visitors to Pemberley; Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst, however, were by no means favoured by the staff. Mr Bingley, she reported, was widely liked below stairs, and it was a pleasure to serve him. I felt it would be disloyal to disparage my husband’s guests explicitly, but I think she understood that my view was scarcely different. In any case, I sought to control my anxiety by rarely talking about their visit; it suited me not to recount the attitude the ladies had shown to me in Hertfordshire or that I had not seen any of them since before I married.
Knowing Mr Franks was with my husband, I did not seek him out when I had broken my fast but sat in the music room with Georgiana, singing for her. We had been practicing for some time and were laughing at a wrong note of mine when Mr Darcy appeared. He closed the door behind his back and smiled, but it was immediately apparent that he was discomforted.
“Good morning, Elizabeth. Georgiana.”
“Good morning, Fitzwilliam. Are you well?”
“Yes, I am well…I am well. Elizabeth, would you join me in my study, please?”
I was not at all pleased at his imperious tone and perplexed at the cause, but I kissed Georgiana on the head and followed him from the room. “Am I to have a scolding, sir?”
“Certainly not, Elizabeth. Whatever gave you that idea?”
“Well, firstly, I woke alone, and then you summoned me in a most stern manner to your study. I feel quite as though I am about to be censured.”
“But you must know you have done nothing wrong.”
“Indeed, I have not, but the world is not always a just place, sir.” I tilted my head and smiled, but he did not laugh. His expression was more grave than ever. I read concern in his eyes and began to regret my flippancy. “What is wrong, Fitzwilliam? Have you heard from Mr Bingley?”
Suddenly Mrs. Darcy Page 7
