by Ola Wegner
“You are most welcome cousin; you know that you are like a brother to me—much more so than Henry. It is a shame but Henry and I have never quite understood one another.”
“It is not my business but...” Darcy paused, looking up at the other man. “I thought that there was a possibility for us to be brothers in name as well – brothers-in-law at the very least.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam stood up from the chair, and walked to the window. His hands were clasped behind him in a military manner. “I talked with Jane today as you must have guessed and it is complicated, difficult. She is fond of Bingley, but I am certain she does not love him the way a woman should when she is about to marry. She is not in love with him nor is she attracted to him.”
“You are not giving up hope then?”
“Me?” Colonel Fitzwilliam pointed to himself. “Never! I will never surrender. Perhaps I should take my example from Wickham.”
“What is your meaning?” Darcy frowned. “I do not like the sound of that.” He eyed him warily.
The other man shrugged. “Seduction and elopement does not seem such a bad idea to me.”
Darcy’s eyes widened. “I have not heard that and I do not know anything about it.”
“Oh, come on Darcy, we both know that being in my shoes you would not hesitate to do the same.” His cousin challenged.
Darcy hung his head. “Why does my wife have so many unmarried sisters?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam chuckled. “Everyone has their burdens, I suppose.”
***
As autumn came to Pemberley, all the guests had left and Darcy and Elizabeth were alone once more. Georgiana had accepted Lady Eleanor’s invitation to spend a few weeks in Bath with her aunt and uncle.
Colonel Fitzwilliam had found Wickham with little difficulty because, exactly as they had predicted, he had stayed in Lambton. The cad was offered ten thousand pounds on condition of allowing Lydia to be separated from him. Stupid girl that she was, Lydia had refused stating that she would not abandon her husband. His cousin was convinced that they would hear from Wickham again in the future as he was not the man to walk away from the prospect of such rich connections. They assumed that he hoped for more, still believeing that keeping Lydia with him would eventually be his pass to an easy living.
Elizabeth was aware of everything what had transpired, but she did not try to find Wickham again. Darcy knew that she suffered because of her sister’s most unfortunate marriage, but as Colonel Fitzwilliam had once said, she made herself perfectly clear where her priorities and loyalty lay.
As far as his health was concerned Darcy recovered rapidly under Elizabeth’s constant care. And the only reminder of his illness was that he tired easily and needed much more sleep than before.
At the end of October Elizabeth told him that she had early symptoms of being with child. He was exceedingly happy upon hearing the news. He wondered what the baby would look like, whether it would be more like him or Elizabeth, and whether it would be a girl or a boy. He would not mind a girl in the least as the thought of a tiny girl with her mother’s eyes and bouncing curls pleased him very much.
They calculated that the child should come at the beginning of May, not later than the fifteenth.
As November turned into December they were convinced of her condition, as was the rest of Pemberley. They made no official announcement, but everyone seemed to know that a new Darcy was on the way though Elizabeth was not yet showing.
Darcy believed that there had never been a more loved Mistress of Pemberley than his Elizabeth, including his own mother. He did not know how she was able to have such easy relationship with everyone, from kitchen maids and stable boys, to the parson’s wife. He admired her for that and was even slightly envious of her ability to effortlessly interact with people.
She was very popular among the tenants, the servants and neighbours, much more than he. It was most noticeable when they were together in the company of others. For example, after Sunday’s service, people did not address him anymore and talked only with her, telling her about their problems, mentioning the burning issues concerning the community. It was obvious that such matters, like improving the road leading to Lambton, was his concern not hers, but somehow it was Elizabeth who heard about it first.
Christmas came and went, spent happily with only the three of them, not counting the little person in Elizabeth’s belly. A day after New Year the bad news came. Anne de Bourgh had died, despite Lady Catherine’s every attempt to save her life. For years the entire family had tried to convince Lady Catherine that Anne’s coughing was much more serious than a passing cold. But Darcy’s aunt always knew better and was not one to listen to the counsel of others. She had only seen the seriousness of her daughter’s state when Anne started to cough blood.
Darcy felt sad to hear about his cousin’s life ending so prematurely, even though Anne had been indifferent to him. And he was quite surprised how moved with Anne’s death Elizabeth proved to be. She cried for an entire afternoon after hearing the news.
He felt guilty that he could not attend the funeral, but there were several reasons for that. Firstly, Elizabeth did not want him to travel so far in the dreadful cold weather of an English winter after his recent illness. Secondly, he wanted to give Richard the chance to become the Master of Rosings Park and was determined to play the role of the ungrateful nephew as long as necessary. Thirdly, he did not wish to leave Elizabeth alone now that it was clearly evident that she was with child. In her fourth month, her condition was now visible to everyone and he had no intention of leaving her alone.
As the harsh winter had come to Pemberley Elizabeth began to grow, getting bigger with each day. Having no experience with pregnant women, Darcy was not sure whether his wife’s progress was natural. From the sixth month on she was quite heavy with child. The bulge of her belly seemed to almost swallow her small form. He began to think that the child was abnormally big, but when he shared his fears with the doctor, he learned that everything was perfectly natural. She walked, or rather waddled, the short distance from the stuffed armchair chair to a sofa.
The doctor told her that she needed to walk more because it would make her stronger when her time came and was good for the baby. She listened to his advice and, wrapped in her fur coat, walked around the frozen lake every day. Darcy accompanied her, fearing that she might fall on the slippery ground. There was no enthusiasm in her as far as walking was concerned and he never told her that from a very active person she had become a lazy one. She slept late in the morning, never leaving her room before ten, then napped in the afternoon, and by nine she was in bed again.
She ate all the time. He could swear that every time he looked at her she was either sleeping or eating. She began to keep food in their private sitting room, and more than once he was awakened in the middle of the night to the sound of her sucking on the bones of a cold chicken leg. For someone who had barely nibbled at her food before that was quite a change.
He could hardly understand how one person could eat so much. Only once, the first and the last time, he dared to voice his opinion on the subject. It was aimed as a playful remark, but she seemed to have lost all sense of humour. She declared that she had been feeding his child and if he could not stand looking at her, she might very well leave his sight forever.
Her body began to change, not only her midsection. Her bosom was twice as big, green veins marking the milky flesh, nipples turned from pink to dark red. Her hips rounded, becoming wider, and she had gained more flesh all over. Her face filled, making her eyes not as large as before, her collarbones stopped protruding.
Another result of her condition was that as much as she wanted food she wanted him. Gone was shy and innocent Lizzy of the first months of their marriage, blushing furiously when he touched her intimately and turning her eyes away from his naked body in embarrassment.
She became aggressive, boldly reaching to the front of his breeches so he would have no doubt what she wanted from h
im. At the beginning he felt blessed with her increased appetite for lovemaking. That was something new, as in the past she had been happy with two or three times a week routine which usually was barely enough for him. Now the situation had changed drastically; in the morning, in the evening, in the middle of the day and in the middle of the night, she demanded his attention, reaching her pleasure quickly and falling asleep more than once before he finished.
After a few weeks of such a treatment he began to get fatigued, and tried to discreetly avoid her, finding excuses that he had to leave early in the morning, or write letters late in the evening. She did not take the hint though and more than once went to search for him. When he feigned reluctance, she simply lowered herself to her knees, making use of her capable little hands and soft lips, looking up at him with those big, shining eyes. He never turned her down - he did not wish to hurt her feelings, and to be truthful he was afraid of weeping. He did not deal well with tears.
Darcy did not look with anticipation to spring because he was terrified to even think about the birth. He prayed to God silently every day, as he touched her constantly kicking stomach, to make it as easy for her as possible and to allow her and the baby to survive. He now understood perfectly his father’s reaction to his mother’s death. If anything happened to Elizabeth and the child, he would die too; there would be no life for him without them.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Darcy finished sealing the letter to his solicitor in London and placed it on the small heap of the correspondence waiting to be sent.
It was late March and the weather had much improved during the last two weeks. Interrupting his work, even though he had a few more letters he needed to write, he walked to the large window to look at the vast expense of the newly greening grass.
His heart clenched with both joy and fear when he saw two female figures emerging from the park. As his wife and sister made their slow progress towards the house, he could see how slowly Elizabeth walked, supported heavily on Georgiana’s arm.
Lately he had begun to have nightmares, dreaming that something would go terribly wrong during the birth. He woke several times a week in a cold sweat, his heart pounding, only to find Elizabeth sleeping safely next to him. With a sigh and heavy heart, he returned to his desk to start another letter, but found he could not focus on writing.
Elizabeth was currently displeased with him as he refused her the opportunity to attend Jane’s wedding to Bingley. The event was to take place in two weeks and Darcy was of opinion that three days travel would be dangerous for his very pregnant wife. Moreover, an unavoidable reunion with Mrs. Bennet was not something that she needed right now. He was more than certain that her mother would not miss the opportunity to say something very upsetting and he felt that the additional stress should be avoided at all cost because of Elizabeth’s delicate condition. A light knock on the door of his study announced Elizabeth’s arrival.
Darcy stood up to greet her and as she opened the door he could first see the heavy bulge of her belly appearing before the rest of her.
“Have you and Georgiana had a nice walk?” he asked, making his way to her as she stopped in the middle of the room.
She smiled at him. “Yes, thank you. It is so nice to stroll without the burden of coat, boots and a hat.”
“I am glad.” Darcy leaned down to kiss her cheek, his hand wondering over her midsection.
“Feel.” She covered his hand with hers, guiding it down so he could touch the spot where the baby was kicking.
“Can I see?” he asked.
She nodded with a smile and they walked a few steps to sit down on a sofa. Comfortably settled, Elizabeth lifted the skirt of her dress to show her belly covered with loose undergarments. She untied the petticoats from under her bosom and lowered them, exposing the naked skin.
Darcy’s hand ran over the round expense of her stomach. Settling his hand close to Elizabeth’s navel, he felt a foot pushing against his touch. As if the baby felt his hand, it pushed harder, so when he took it away he could still see the small lump.
“He is terribly strong,” he murmured, tracing the shape of the protrusion with his finger.
“He?” she asked, looking down to see what he was seeing. “How do you know it is a boy?”
“I think that a girl would be smaller and this is quite a foot,” he explained, disappointed that the lump began to disappear. “I have big feet too.”
She rolled her eyes, righting her undergarments and the dress as she covered herself. “Perhaps it is a girl with very big feet.”
“No, it is not,” he insisted. “Your feet are small, and our daughter, if we are blessed with one, will have pretty little feet as well.”
Snuggling close to him she asked, “Have you thought about what we discussed?”
He stiffened instantly. “Elizabeth, I have not changed my mind. It is unthinkable for you to travel so late in your confinement.”
“Nonsense, the baby will not come for six weeks; that is plenty of time to make such a short trip.”
“The baby may very well come in four weeks; I counted too.”
She pushed away from him, crossing her arms over her belly. “I want to go to the wedding. I want to see Jane and my younger sisters.”
“Elizabeth, be reasonable.”
“No,” she huffed, lifting herself with much effort. “You are being obstinate about it with no good reason.”
“My love, I beg you to understand my concern. I...”
“No!” Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him. “I do not understand! I want to attend Jane’s wedding!”
Running his hand over his face, he continued, “That is out of question. We can invite them to come here for their honeymoon.”
She said nothing to this, simply lifting her chin in defiance. Turning to escape the room, she moved as fast as her large belly would allow.
With a slight pounding in his head, signalling the beginnings of a headache, Darcy returned to his desk. He had not even managed to finish one sentence of a new letter when Georgiana barged into the room completely out of breath.
“Brother, come!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide.
Fear clenched his heart as he stood up. “Elizabeth?”
His sister nodded. “She was with me in the music room when she began to have pains.”
As Darcy ran into the music room, he saw Elizabeth bent in half, one hand gripping the back of the armchair, the other clenching her stomach. Her face was twisted with pain.
“Fitzwilliam,” she breathed upon seeing him.
While he hovered over her, she spoke in quick desperate breaths. “I think that it is time to get Mrs. Harris.”
“But it is too early,” Darcy proclaimed, his hands shaking. “At least four weeks too early.”
“She moaned, bending farther down. “I cannot help it. Send for the midwife!”
“I will see to that,” Georgiana said, fleeing from the room.
As soon as the pain eased, Darcy picked Elizabeth up in his arms and with the utmost care carried her through the house to their rooms. Her eyes were closed, her face peaceful, but as he reached their bedroom she began to moan again, palming her stomach. After placing her on the bed, he stood staring down at her as though not knowing what to do.
“Can you put the pillows behind my back?” she rasped.
“Of course, yes, of course,” Darcy murmured, helping her to settle more comfortably.
Darcy was watching the large bay window, searching for some sign that the midwife had come. He glanced back at his wife and wiped his sweaty palms against his trousers. Eternity seemed to pass before he spied a carriage coming down the drive in front of the manor. Soon after there was a knock at the door and a round, tall, robust woman entered.
Mrs. Harris was reputed to be the best midwife in the northern part of the Derbyshire and fortunately she lived in Lambton. She glanced at Elizabeth, sitting against the pillows in the middle of the bed, her legs apart, panting heavily. Then the hea
vy set woman turned and her eyes rested upon a very pale, wide eyed Darcy.
“Mr. Darcy will leave us alone,” the woman announced, moving to Elizabeth’s side and lifting her skirts.
“I wish to stay with my wife,” Darcy replied bravely.
Not bothering to even look at him, the midwife repeated, “Mr. Darcy, you will leave. I have to attend to your wife and I need no fainting father hovering over my back.”
“I have no intentions of...” Darcy started in an offended voice, but Mrs. Harris interrupted him sharply, turning her head to glare at him. “Do not argue with me, Sir. I helped you into this world, your buttocks being the first thing that saw the light of the day, and if you wish a row with me, I will leave you to deliver this baby yourself.”
“Fitzwilliam, leave please,” Elizabeth panted.
Darcy exited the room, closing the door. He sank into a nearby chair, cradling his head in his hands. He could not remember a time when there was so much fear building inside of him. Their baby was coming too early; would it survive? Would it be able to live on its own outside Elizabeth’s body? Why was this happening to them? Had there not been enough anguish in their lives this past year?
Lost in his thoughts, he did not notice Mrs. Harris standing in front of him. Only when she spoke did he lift his head to look at her. “You will not become a father today, Mr. Darcy,” she announced.
Standing to his feet, he mumbled, “I will not? But she is... she is in pain.”
“It happens to some women, those early pains, which are not true labour. She must stay in bed for the next few days, but you will have to wait several weeks yet before the baby is born.”
“She is well then?” he asked, wanting more confirmation.
“As well as she can be.”
“Thank you,” he breathed. Immense relief washed over him.
The midwife assured him that she would come again before the evening to check on Mrs. Darcy because she had to return to Lambton to see to the wife of the blacksmith who was about to deliver her fourth baby. As the midwife left, Darcy entered the bedroom and saw that Elizabeth looked much calmer, with less distress written on her face.
