Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth

by Greer Boyd

  Since the first of the year, the shop of the Lambton woodworker had suddenly became exceedingly busy. All of the expectant mothers of the extended family had requested cradles very much like the one Elizabeth had given Aunt Lilly. Soon after the Gardiner babies had been born, Uncle Edward requested a second cradle to be made exactly like the first with one exception: where the first one had a mother deer and fawn carved into one end, the second cradle had two fawns.

  After Mrs. Trotter was introduced to the mothers and wet nurses who were in the nursery at that time, she offered, “I will be glad to assist you and be of service until such time as I am needed.”

  Mrs. Farmer replied with a happy smile, “We have all been assisting each other since the birth of these two. Let me introduce you to Miss Eleanor Gardiner and her younger sister Miss Anne.”

  Looking into the two identical faces, the new wet nurse simply asked, “How in the world do you tell them apart?”

  Mrs. Farmer raised the right hand of each child so that Mrs. Trotter could see the gold bracelets made of multiple tiny links around each wrist and explained, “This is the only way. The bracelet for the firstborn is inscribed with the French word ‘ancient.’ The inscription for the second born is ‘jeune.’ The bracelet is never removed and is designed so that as the child gets older more links can be added.”

  Directing her to another cradle very close to the one containing the Gardiner twins, Mrs. Farmer continued, “Mrs. Trotter, the same system applies to the Honorable Master Bennet Fitzwilliam and his younger brother the Honorable Master James Fitzwilliam. Their bracelets are very similar but in a more masculine design.

  “Now, let me introduce you to the rest of the babies, and I hope that you find that you are as happy here as we are. You are very welcomed.”

  ∞∞∞

  The first day of June had been used as a tentative date for Charlotte’s delivery, but everyone knew that the date could be off by several days and it was now five days past the first of June. Charlotte had been very uncomfortable for the last two days and was beginning to wonder if the child wished to be born at all. Under Elizabeth’s direction and assisted by everyone in the house but mainly by Aunt Eleanor, Richard, and Lady Lucas, Charlotte had walked the entire length of the third floor of Pemberley House several times a day. On the morning of the sixth of June, she woke feeling in every way out of sorts.

  “Come, my lovely,” inquired Richard as he tenderly kissed and tried to soothe her, “can I get anything for you? Do you want me to rub your feet? I will be most pleased to do so.”

  Charlotte almost sobbed at her husband’s offer, “Oh Richard, would you mind? I can no longer even see them, and they feel as large as boats.”

  Placing pillows behind her back so that she could sit up comfortably, he took one foot into his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed and gently applied pressure to the ball. He had barely begun when she screamed suddenly. “Did I hurt you?” he asked in alarm.

  Trying very hard to fight back another screech, Charlotte grasped his hand firmly and gasped, “I think that you should summon Mrs. Reynolds and the doctor.”

  Realizing what was unsaid, he quickly jumped from the bed to reach for the bell pull just as someone knocked on the door. When Lady Lucas came into the room and saw the distress on her daughter’s face, she walked quickly to the side of the bed. Minutes later the maid arrived, and Richard asked her to notify Mrs. Reynolds, the midwife, and the doctor that they were needed. Smiling brightly, the maid chuckled, “Right away, My Lord.”

  Soon the whole household was aware of the pending birth, and each of the ladies in residence came to the room to lend their assistance throughout the day. It was mid-afternoon when Charlotte’s water broke, and she began to have sharp convulsing pain in both her back and lower stomach. As the pain grew much more intense, Elizabeth could see panic in her good friend’s eyes. She pulled Mrs. Reynolds aside and asked her to prepare some tea to help soothe Charlotte’s nerves. Making it as strong as possible, Mrs. Reynolds passed the cup to Elizabeth, who encouraged Charlotte to drink as much as she could.

  As the tea started to take effect, Charlotte began to relax a bit so that she only tensed and cried out when the most painful contractions occurred. She labored throughout the rest of the day and into the night. As he paced the hallway, Richard could no longer bear to hear her crying out in pain and went to her side to lend his support.

  By late morning, her contractions were coming very quickly and were very strong. The midwife had just bent down to check how wide the birth canal had expanded when she saw the baby’s foot.

  “Oh NO,” she cried. “Doctor, come quickly.”

  When he reached the bedside, he, too, saw the tiny foot extend from the birth canal.

  Immediately the doctor set to his task, “Mrs. Reynolds, get me a bottle of brandy; and, if you have some oil, perhaps olive oil or even fresh lard, bring it immediately.”

  Looking at the doctor with a great deal of surprise and puzzlement, she nonetheless sent a footman for the brandy and a maid for the lard. Both returned almost immediately. Taking the brandy, the doctor poured a large quantity in an unused teacup and passed it to Lady Lucas. “Get her to drink this as quickly as you can. As soon as she finishes it, pour another and have her drink it also, but at a slower pace.”

  Pulling Elizabeth, Aunt Eleanor, and Lady Lucas aside, he said as confidently and as sincerely as possible, “The baby is coming breech. I am going to try to turn the child, but I need for her to be as cooperative as possible. Even then, I may not be able to save them both.”

  Elizabeth, Mrs. Hedgeley, Mrs. Reynolds, and Lady Lucas moved Charlotte to the birthing chair. With Richard supporting his wife, the doctor placed a stool just below and sat beneath Charlotte’s widely spread legs. Dipping into the lard, he began to rub a thin layer over his hands and arms to make them as slippery as possible. After Charlotte had consumed the first cup of brandy, he gently pushed first one hand and then the other up into her. Working between contractions, he gently pushed and tugged and nudged. It took more than a quarter hour before he felt that he had succeeded. A great contraction shook Charlotte, and he told her to push hard when the next one came. Almost immediately, it was upon her, and she was pushing with all her might when the midwife and doctor both held their hands high into the air and cried, “STOP. STOP. DO NOT PUSH.”

  Holding the infant’s head carefully, the doctor spoke calmly, “Lady Charlotte, try to relax if you can.” The midwife gently, and very carefully, and very slowly worked the umbilical cord from around the baby’s throat and over its head, freeing it so it could be born without further complications.

  Finally, the midwife and doctor exchanged glances and nodded in agreement. “All right, Lady Charlotte, on the next contraction we want you to push hard.” Within a matter of minutes, the heir of Rosings Park, Viscount Rosings, Lord William James David Fitzwilliam was born on June 7, 1820. He was a big baby almost dwarfing those who had been born earlier.

  Richard went to Dr. Crawford immediately. “How did you know to do that— whatever it was that you did?”

  Looking quite exhausted and most contrite, the doctor looked at the new father and began to explain. “I would like to boast and say that it was something that I have done many times. But I would not have had a clue as to what to do if I had not witnessed the recent birth of a foal that was coming breech. I watched as the stable master reached into the mare and worked to turn the colt enough for it to be born successfully. I was not sure exactly what to do in this particular case, but I knew that I had to try.”

  Grasping the doctor by the shoulders and pulling him into a great bear hug, Richard exclaimed, “I am so thankful that you did.” Then he enveloped the midwife in a similar hug, telling her, “Bless your watchful eye. Thank you.” He told himself both of them would be receiving a substantial “gift” for their services this day. Mrs. Jolly, the midwife from London, arrived later that afternoon, while Mrs. Hedgeley had already returned to her ho
me in Lambton.

  As excited as everyone was with the birth, a cloud had descended over the happiness of the rest of the expectant mothers and fathers. They all knew that had it not been for the quick thinking of Dr. Crawford and then the practiced eye of the midwife, either Charlotte or her baby or possibly both might have died that day. Having gained a new perspective on how very fragile life was and how quickly and easily it could be taken away, each husband and wife clung more closely to one another.

  Less closely involved, but no less concerned, the five young people banded together to lend support to one another through their shared company, but Nate was beside himself with worry for Annabel as she had worried for Charlotte and her new nephew. All he could think about was how he wanted so badly to take her into his arms and soothe away her worry.

  ∞∞∞

  The wet nurses originally slated for Mary and Georgiana were encouraged to come to Pemberley as quickly as was reasonably possible. Each had written with her anticipated date of arrival. Mrs. Holley, who was to have been for Mary, was to arrive on the four and tenth day of June; and Mrs. Worder, who was to have been for Georgiana, was to arrive by the first day of July.

  Everyone in Pemberley House spent a portion of their day in the nursery playing and holding the newborn babies, and Thomas and Anne Elizabeth were no exception. They often came to walk among the cradles in the nursery, lovingly patting the head or foot of each infant and quietly talking to them.

  One morning, as Elizabeth was visiting in the nursery, Thomas ran from the room back to the bedchamber he shared with Anne Elizabeth and Jonathan and returned with his book of fairy tales. As she sat in one of the rocking chairs with an infant on her lap, he pressed the book into her hand, pleading, “Mama. Read to us - - peez.” She smiled indulgently at him. When she took the book, Anne Elizabeth sat on the floor at her feet while Thomas took little Jonathan’s hand and led him to sit with him on the floor as well. As soon as the three “older” children were seated, Elizabeth began to read. For the next quarter hour, she delighted them by adopting different voices for each of the characters as she read the stories.

  The next morning, Rebecca added a trip to the nursery to the end of her morning walk. She looked over the babies laying in the cradles and walked to the one that was prepared and waiting for her child. A tiny fleet of three sail boats had been carved into the head honoring her husband, while into the foot were carved three fleur-de-lis blooms honoring her French origins and symbolizing wisdom, faith, and chivalry.

  Rubbing her hand slowly over her distended stomach she spoke softly to herself, “Oh mon bébé. J’ai hâte de vous rencontrer. (Oh my baby. I can hardly wait to meet you).”

  Thomas stood up from where he had been playing on the floor, walked to the cradle, and looked up at her asking, “Mon bébé?” Rebecca looked at him and then sat in one of the rocking chairs, as she took his little hand and placed it on her stomach and repeated softly “My baby . . . mon bébé.” She saw the realization as soon as he understood, and so she began pronouncing various other words in English and then in French.

  When Elizabeth walked into the nursery a little while later, Thomas took her by the hand and led her to the cradle she had shown him was for her baby. “Berceau pour mon bébé (cradle for my baby),” he said, as he placed his hand first on the cradle and then on her stomach.

  Seeing the surprised look on Elizabeth’s face, Rebecca began to first giggle and then to laugh heartily.

  “Oh Thomas. Mon bébé,” she cried as she knelt down and hugged him tightly. Looking at Rebecca and then back to Thomas, she shrugged, “I guess that from now on we will read our books in both English and French.”

  “Yes - - peez,” laughed Thomas, then he turned and ran from the nursery.

  As Elizabeth shook her head in wonder, Rebecca started laughing anew then stood to leave the nursery as well. By chance, Elizabeth noticed a small spot of blood on the back of her gown. Hurrying to her, she took Rebecca’s arm and pulled her back into the rocking chair and immediately sent the maid to fetch the doctor. “What is it Elizabeth? What happened?”

  Taking her friend’s hand, she explained, “When you stood, I noticed a spot of blood. That is why I sent for the doctor.”

  Rebecca looked at her with a sudden touch of panic in her eyes: “But I feel perfectly fine.”

  “That may be true,” Elizabeth spoke in a soothing manner trying to push back the panic that had sudden swept over her, “but we do not want to take any chances.”

  Seeing the maid from the nursery seeking the doctor alerted everyone. Aunt Eleanor and Aunt Lilly reached the nursery first, quickly followed by the doctor and Darcy. As Elizabeth explained as calmly as possible why she had sent for the doctor, Darcy helped his aunts assist his cousin to stand. Rebecca’s face grew pale when she saw the small pool of blood in the seat of the wooden chair and her knees began to buckle. Darcy quickly swept her up into his arms and began to carry her to her bedchamber with the doctor and Elizabeth, and their two aunts following closely behind.

  “Get Mr. Fleming,” he called to a second maid. On the way to the bedchamber, Rebecca’s water broke. Blood and fluid now covered Darcy’s waistcoat and ran down the front of his trousers as she screamed in pain.

  Rebecca was in danger. She was bleeding, her water had broken, the baby was coming early, and so far each of the early deliveries had been twin births. Elizabeth was helping her aunts quickly remove Rebecca’s day dress, when Mrs. Jolly came into the bedchamber just in time to see Rebecca nearly crumble to the floor as a severe pain shook her body and a large mass of blood flowed down her legs. She had only moments to catch the infant as it was expelled completely from its mother’s body.

  “Get her on the bed quickly. This is too much blood,” cried the midwife as she handed the baby to the doctor. He immediately chaffed the infant’s back and was rewarded with a cry from some very healthy lungs. Wrapping the child in a towel from the dressing room, he handed it to Darcy, and called to the maid, “Get Mrs. Reynolds quickly.”

  Suddenly unnerved, Darcy swiftly moved away from the bed, turned his face toward the wall and stood as still as stone with the baby in his arms. When Mrs. Reynolds entered the bedchamber only a minute or two later, she immediately comprehended the activity on the bed, the mass of blood on the floor, and Darcy covered in blood, holding a baby tightly in his hands. “Lord Darcy, please give the child to me, then go to your bedchamber, and bathe and redress promptly. I am sure that Mr. Fleming will be in need of you.”

  Thankful that Mrs. Reynolds had broken the spell that had seemingly overcome him, he nodded his head and gently passed the newborn to her. He glanced back searching for Elizabeth, only to see her receive another child from the doctor’s hands and begin to wrap it in a towel before he exited the room and practically ran down the hallway. Georgiana had just stepped from her bedchamber when she saw Darcy and the condition of his clothing.

  “What . . .”

  “Rebecca.”

  That short exchange of information sent Georgiana to Rebecca’s bedchamber immediately. She entered without knocking to see the doctor and midwife firmly massaging her sister’s stomach and noticed that a small blanket had been rolled tightly and placed between her legs. Looking at Mrs. Reynolds, she asked, “What can I do?”

  “Hold the babies,” replied Mrs. Reynolds crisply, as she first passed one and then the other into Georgiana’s waiting arms, and pulled her gently into a chair. She looked into the two faces, each so different from the other. One had dark, almost black hair and eyes that were perhaps a dark blue. The other had much lighter hair, the colour of summer wheat, and eyes that looked nearly black. Noticing the ribbon tied around the wrist of the infant with the dark hair, she kissed him on the cheek. “So you are the heir,” she stated almost in a whisper. As she kissed the cheek of the fair-haired infant, she continued, “And you are his younger brother.”

  Stanley Fleming had come into his wife’s bedchamber almost immediately upon h
er arrival from the nursery, but the doctor pressed him into the chair in the corner normally occupied by the maid and admonished him to stay there.

  Elizabeth and Mrs. Reynolds had taken the place of the midwife and the doctor, and they were now gently massaging Rebecca’s stomach hoping to staunch the flow of blood and help the womb retract to where it was now supposed to be. As the shift in people had taken place, Georgiana saw that Rebecca’s face was as white as chalk. Her heart clinched. Clutching the infants even closer to her body, she silently prayed for mercy . . . mercy and healing.

  Aunt Eleanor and Aunt Lilly had arrived shortly after Georgiana, and watched for a few minutes before changing places with Elizabeth and Mrs. Reynolds. Rebecca seemed to be a bit more responsive now, and Mrs. Reynolds sent a maid for her apothecary box and some hot water with which to make a tea. When the maid brought the box to her, she took a teaspoon of dried liverwort and began to make a strong tea.