by J Dawn King
She sighed again. Placing the brush back on the table, she considered her husband’s easy acceptance of having the Pedersen family join them at Pemberley. Tomorrow, she would travel to town with John and Maggie for services and to gather supplies while the White brothers stayed with Will. While she hoped the family had found a good situation for themselves, she also, in the most secret place of her heart, wished they had not. It would be a wonder to have another female set of helping hands, another married woman to talk to, and children to fill the place with noise.
Children. For the first time since the accident, Elizabeth thought of what would have to happen before there would be a pregnancy and a baby. Before, it had been something she was resigned to do, knowing it was a fundamental part of married life. Now? She blushed even though there was no one else in the room to see. The possibility of finding enjoyment, as Jane had whispered was achievable for newlyweds, was disconcerting, but not unwanted.
Picking up the brush, she pulled at her hair with vigor. Lord, she was a wreck at the thought of it. Imagine when it came time to actually…well, she would think on it no more.
The next morning, before she left for services in town, Darcy spilled the whole pitcher of pancake syrup down the front of himself and his robe. It hadn’t been entirely his doing. His sister had accidentally bumped his elbow when he’d lifted the container to pour the sticky sweetness on the tall stack of cakes. Fortunately, the brown sugar and water had cooled, leaving no burns to treat.
The stored rainwater would have been too cold to use the shower room. Instead, water was boiled and the horse trough retrieved. The downstairs make-shift bedroom had no room for the desk, which had been pushed against the back wall, the narrow bed Darcy was sleeping in, and the galvanized container, so they put it in the middle of the living room. Georgiana quickly finished breakfast, as did the others, while the men filled the buckets and put the chairs from the porch inside the large oval vessel.
This would be only the second time she had bathed him. Since the first time, he’d been able to roll himself into the bathing room and scoot himself over to a chair in the shower. Elizabeth had been required to reposition his leg both before and after he finished. They had both seemed relieved it was a task made much easier with the wheelchair and his position on the first floor.
Her introspection of the previous night was still embedded in her mind, and she wondered at the task before her. Gathering towels, wash clothes, and a clean robe, she set them on a small table next to the large sofa where there was enough space for him to maneuver into position.
She had to marvel at the skill he had developed. His mobility came at a price. The bruise on his back was ringed with purple and filled with mottled yellows and green, though they were not nearly as bright and deep as they had been.
When he lowered his robe to his waist, muscled cords rippled down his upper arms, and his forearms flexed as he wiped the initial mess from his chest with the damp cloth she’d handed him. Dark curly hairs sprung back from his scrubbing and Elizabeth was amazed at not paying attention to them before.
She moved her eyes before he could catch her gazing at him. It would only embarrass him and humiliate her.
He untied the belt and scooted to the front of the chair, again using his powerful arms. They had developed a routine of her bending so he could put his arms around her neck while he lifted with his good leg and she steadied him with her hands while he stood. He would then twist on his good foot until he dropped down onto his bed or the chair in the bath. They never made eye contact. This time was different.
She was powerless to look anywhere else and, in retrospect, she was aware that the glimmer in his eyes was attraction. She had no desire to look away. Her mother had openly discussed the impact of desire on a man to both her and Jane before leaving Baltimore, but Elizabeth had no appetite for finding out how accurate her brief descriptions had been.
Some strange emotion traveled through her, and even though she’d been in his close proximity before, it was as if it was the first time. He had to be feeling the same as she watched him look from her eyes to her mouth and back.
Was he going to kiss her? Instead of being appalled, which she felt she should have been, she was curious. Would his lips taste of the slice of bacon he’d already consumed before the spill? Would they be firm or soft? Would they be a good fit? It was all so disconcerting. She turned her head towards the makeshift bath.
“Can you make it?”
“I can.” The timber of his voice seemed deeper, but she wasn’t going to look back at him now. The hairs on the back of her arms still stood tall and the weakness at her knees threatened to topple them both. Get ahold of yourself, Lizzy! Her admonition worked, and she settled him on the chair and hefted his leg so it rested properly. Completely disconcerted, she hurried from the room.
The sun was peeking over the horizon when the happy group piled into the buggy to head to town. Dan drove the wagon behind them for ease in picking up the supplies, and Elizabeth was grateful Darcy had insisted in case the Pedersen family required transportation to Pemberley. Melvin would keep an eye on her husband in case any needs arose.
When they stopped for a break, Georgiana stepped next to Elizabeth and whispered into her ear.
“Lizzy, I hope Wickham hasn’t messed around and delayed his departure from Oregon City.”
Elizabeth had been surprised to learn that the young girl had a sense of humor that easily matched her own. A picture flashed in her mind of Wickham standing below the peach tree, juice dripping from his hair down his face. “Oh, I’m fairly certain he didn’t mess around.”
“What I would have given to have seen the expression on his face when Will fired the rifle.”
“I do believe you have recovered from his treachery, Georgie dear.” Maggie had been charged with keeping Georgiana in the house while Elizabeth had walked to the orchard grove. When the events had been repeated to the ladies, Georgiana had laughed until she’d cried. Her brother had delighted to see her mood lifted, and it made for a happy atmosphere in the house.
When they arrived at the small church, Elizabeth was pleased to see Cynthia Pedersen with her husband Harald. Their children were clean, with large smiles on their faces. The parents’ faces, upon closer inspection, were lined with stress.
Elizabeth got straight to the point. “Have you found property yet?
“We have not, Elizabeth. Harald has searched for good land, but he has had to take on work at the lumber mill so we can afford the cramped rooms behind the hotel. He is a farmer, not a laborer. He knows cows and crops.” Tears showed at the corners of her eyes. “The pot of gold was not located in Oregon for the Pedersen family.”
“I am sorry to hear of your distress, Cynthia. However, my husband has offered you housing and work at Pemberley. We have a large garden tended by one of our workers, but have need of someone who understands when to move the cattle from the bottomland to the fields hidden in the timber. Each year, the beef is sold at auction, so he’s hoping to find someone knowledgeable to cull out the herds.”
“Please let me speak to my husband.” Cynthia placed her arm on Elizabeth’s. “It sounds like you know much about cows yourself, my friend.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Heavens, no. I’m only repeating what Will told me. I wouldn’t know a boy cow from a girl.”
After the service, the women met again with a hearty, unhesitating agreement from Harald Pedersen. Arrangements were made to pick them up from their rooms as soon as the supplies were loaded. It promised to be a pleasant return trip.
With the family settled at Pemberley, the conversation between the four females during chores made the tasks seem to go much faster. Harald, a quiet man just like the others, settled in to his new responsibilities with gusto, and the children all took turns entertaining Darcy as he watched them from the porch.
“Your man, he’s a good man, Lizzy.” Cynthia noted as the women each held the end of a bedsheet and twisted it until the wa
ter poured out onto the ground. “He will make a good father. My children already adore him.”
“They like him because he knows how to tease them, Cynthia.” Georgiana added with a smile as she fastened the clothespin on the corner of the towel where it hung over the line.
“I knew from the way he used to carry you around on his hip when he was a lad that one day he should have a houseful of his own.” Maggie Reynolds had to add her opinion, which made Georgiana’s smile grow from one ear to the other.
“Ladies!” Each time the women gathered, the topic vacillated between their families and food, such is the nature of females. Elizabeth watched over her sister as she was unmarried and innocent. She had to laugh at herself. She was married and innocent—a circumstance she was thinking more about as each day passed. She wondered if Will spent so much time thinking of the same or if men were different from their counterparts.
“Oh, do not worry, Sister.” Georgiana immediately jumped in. “Living with men like Richard and his brother, Simon, I found out where babies come from a long time ago.”
“Georgiana Darcy!” Elizabeth burst into giggles. “I didn’t learn that until just before I left to head west. You are a daring young lady, and I believe we need to lock you in your room when a single boy is around.”
The other females joined in the merriment, including her sister.
“Of course, my two might be a bit young yet at eight-years old. But they grow up quickly—too quickly.” Cynthia added, her voice filled with curiosity. “I am wondering, Georgie, what exactly did you learn from your cousins?”
The question was bold, and Georgiana’s face flared a vibrant red. She swallowed before she blandly stated, “They said that when a man and woman get married and they decide to have a child, the woman gets fat around the middle. When the baby’s room is decorated, it is ready to come out.”
Elizabeth looked at the shock on Maggie and Cynthia’s faces and knew it mirrored her own. That was certainly not what her mother had explained.
Maggie softly inquired. “And how does the baby get in her tummy and come back out?”
If anything, Georgiana’s discomfort increased, though it seemed it was humanly impossible.
“Oh, I don’t know that part.”
“And I hope you don’t need to know for many years yet.” Elizabeth added as they all laughed so hard they had to wipe their tears on the washed clothes only to have to wash them again. None of the women minded.
The hot weather continued, and the ground was starting to show the absence of rain. Harald, Cynthia, and their four children had been at Pemberley for almost a month and the ranch was running smoothly. A full moon promised to light the sky that night as Darcy and Elizabeth sought what little coolness could be found on the front porch after Georgiana had stepped into the bathing room to cool off.
“We’ve not had much rain, Will. Is this typical for this time of year?”
“Yes, and no.” It had become automatic for him to reach for her hand as they sat alongside each other, and she accepted it willingly. “Some summers it rains more days than it does not. Other years, we’ve had fierce sun through the whole of the month.”
“In Baltimore, I’d read news reports of dust storms in the middle of the country from lack of rain and of families having to vacate their homes because they didn’t have enough water for basic necessities. I’m afraid I’m not familiar enough with Oregon to know its habits. Do we need to conserve water in the bathing room? How about the wells? Will we be able to pump water if this continues?”
“I thank you for worrying, Elizabeth, but I wished you wouldn’t. Pemberley, and any of the other farms and ranches in the area, has never suffered from drought. The rain will come.”
Only it didn’t. Day after day and night after night the temperatures soared. By the end of August, the water in the reservoir above the bathing room had long run out so that buckets would have to be filled from the pump and carried up the ladder to fill it up enough for a quick wash. The men and boys, with the obvious exception of Will, bathed in one of the many creeks found fairly close to the buildings which lightened the demand on the wells. Will worried about his neighbors as Elizabeth repeated the talk from both before and after services on Sunday. It was all about the lack of water.
Elizabeth sat on the porch and watched the river traffic. The Willamette flowed at the same speed and level it had done since her arrival and she wished for the millionth time that they could pump the water to the house—an impossible dream.
She listened as the foreman leaned against one of the posts holding up the roof over the porch as he spoke with Will about the situation.
“I’m concerned about Bingley’s place, Will. His property sits on higher ground, and his well wasn’t dug as deep as ours.”
“I’m glad you brought that up. There are no streams close to his house, and I’ve no clue if he cleared the trees and underbrush from around his buildings. I’ve been after him about it since he built there, but being from the east, he’s uncommonly attached to the timber.”
“Well, I can’t imagine him taking the time to log it off once he married. He hadn’t done it when I took Maggie over to get the house ready for the new missus.” He shook his head at the young man’s foolishness.
“No, I think you are right.” Darcy considered. “He has a good foreman to care for the place, and I’d hate to step on his toes by sending you over to check on them.”
Elizabeth chimed in. “Will, the letter I received from Jane two days ago said they would be traveling from Boston to Baltimore to see my family and expected their stay to be brief. They could be home in about three weeks to see for themselves what needs to be done. I’d wish to have Jane come to a home ready to be lived in, especially with her bringing Miss Bingley back to a place she hasn’t seen in over a year. Jane would be mortified if she couldn’t make her comfortable.”
Both men nodded. Will squeezed her fingers gently. “We will see what we can do.”
“Thank you.”
Each day that had passed had revealed another layer of her husband’s character, and she was growing fonder of him as time sped by. He treated his sister with open love and tenderness and had never once been impatient with the twins, though he hadn’t failed to be firm, but kind, when needed.
Thinking back to the first week after his accident, his growly demeanor and grumpy responses, it seemed like he was now a completely different man. Maggie had assured her that Will was unchanged. Elizabeth was left to wonder what it had been about her that had made him incredibly mulish.
She wondered if she had changed as much as he had. Oh, she still had her little teases and rebellions, but he met each one with a smile and a quick reply. Sitting out on the porch each night had become their special time. It was then that she finally was introduced to the man behind the letters. Each night, as she followed him to his room to see him tucked in, he quoted William Shakespeare.
Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.
On this night, as they sat beneath the moon and stars, his rich baritone spoke into the night sky.
The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork.
Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night sheweth knowledge.
“The 19th Psalm; one of my favorites,” Elizabeth whispered. “Did you miss the night sky when you were at university?”
“I mourned the loss of sitting under the heavens where nothing impeded my vision of the night sky. When I sailed to England, it was during the summer months and for a week there was no breeze to move the ship. The sailors all complained, but I found such beauty in the stars twinkling from overhead while being reflected on the dark waters of the sea. It was like we were surrounded; encapsulated by pinpoints of light. In my lifetime, I’ve not seen anything as grand.”
She sighed at the vision his words created. His ability to look at nature and appreciate its wonders filled her he
art with rejoicing and appreciation for the man she married. He was an intellectual man who she often wished could meet her father. She imagined them having conversations rich in meaning and wisdom. But it was not to be. Darcy had no desire to travel east and her father certainly would never leave his bookroom.
“What are you thinking of so seriously?” he inquired. “You are too silent.”
“My father. My family.” She placed her free hand over where theirs were already intertwined. “He would like you, I believe.”
“That’s good to know, Elizabeth.”
“Will?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you still call me by my full name? Everyone else calls me Lizzy.”
He chuckled softly. “I will one day, I promise.”
She speculated what might occasion his doing so and wondered if she would be ready when he did.
“Why did you break your leg, Mr. Darcy?”
“It was an accident, Whitney.” The little Pedersen girl stood with her face resting in her cupped hand, her elbow firmly planted on the arm of his wheelchair. Her nose was close to his left arm. Her soft blue eyes were staring directly at his.
“Why did that tree fall on you?”
“The tree didn’t fall on me. Only a branch fell on me.”
“Why didn’t you move the branch? My Daddy moves branches all day long. My mama has to pick slivers from his fingers every night. Does Mrs. Darcy pick slivers from your fingers?”
