Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth

by Greer Boyd

  “What do you think of Master Leighton Archer D’Arcy Lively?”

  “Leighton, meet your father,” she cooed softly, as she gently maneuvered the child so that he lay between them on the bed. Jostled by the move, his eyelids fluttered open for just a moment revealing eyes that were as blue as the sky on a cloudless day.

  Jo was tired after the birth of the baby, but she was so concerned for Paulie that she could not sleep. The baby had been taken by the wet nurse more than an hour ago and, lying on top of the duvet, Lawrence had snuggled close to her side and was sleeping soundly. Straining her ears, she listened for any noise in the hallway that might give her a clue about Paulie’s condition. Finally, she could bear it no longer and gently pulled the duvet away and slowly walked toward the door. She was a bit dizzy when she arrived and leaned her head on the hard wooden surface for a moment until the dizziness went away. Turning the knob she slowly opened the door, stepped into the hallway and knocked on the door directly across from her own.

  Elizabeth’s opened the door almost at once. “JO! What are you doing out of bed?” Together, she and Aunt Eleanor, who was equally startled, quickly assisted her to the nearest chair.

  Having just walked to the far corner of the room, Paulie turned abruptly back to see her sister and gasped as a powerful contraction shook her body and her water broke.

  “I knew you just needed my encouragement to get started,” laughed Jo as she looked intently at her sister.

  “Jo. What are you doing here? Why are you not in bed?”

  “Do not fuss with me Paulie. I was concerned about you.”

  Elizabeth started to giggle and then burst into laughter. “I am so sorry, but just now the two of you reminded me so much of my younger sisters Kitty and Lydia, squabbling but caring deeply for each other.”

  Paulie and Jo had started to laugh, too, when suddenly Paulie’s eyes grew wide and she grasped her stomach tightly. “I think the baby is coming. The baby is coming.”

  Thirty minutes later it was over, and Master Matthew Richard Hall Folkes, another quite large, quite blonde young man, snuggled in his mother’s arms.

  Dudley helped Jo back across the hallway and opened the door quietly to see Lawrence still asleep on top of the bed. Jo placed her finger to her lips to indicate that they be quiet as she slowly walked across the room and lay back down on the bed as Dudley carefully covered her with the duvet and left the room to return to his wife.

  On August 18, 1820, Paulie had delivered the Folkes heir, the seven and tenth child born at Pemberley House in just a little more than five months.

  ∞∞∞

  There remained only two more expectant mothers: Mrs. Quartermain, who was due in almost a month, and Elizabeth, who was not due for another five months. The number of wet nurses now equaled the number of babies. The final wet nurse for Mrs. Quartermain was expected to arrive within the next ten days.

  Both Elizabeth and Aunt Lilly met Aunt Eleanor in the nursery less than a week after the last round of babies had been born. Looking over the bevy of all the less-than-six-month-olds, Elizabeth linked her arms with those of the other two ladies. “It looks like the family has grown substantially within the last few months.”

  Aunt Eleanor laughed heartily, as she walked from cradle to cradle and ran her hand along the footboards. “Lizzy you certainly have a gift for understatement.”

  After everyone in the nursery began to laugh, the ladies settled into rocking chairs and cuddled and rocked the babies after they had been changed and before they were taken to their mothers to be fed.

  Mrs. Jolly came into the nursery about a quarter hour later. “Lady Elizabeth, I was hoping to find you here. May I speak with you for a moment?”

  “Of course. Will here be all right, or do we need to go to a place more private?” answered Elizabeth, as she placed one hand on the arm of the chair while the other continued to hold one of the babies close to her breast.

  Mrs. Jolly let a look of great concern show in her face, as she replied, “Here will be fine. I am only concerned for your mother.”

  Suddenly Elizabeth became alert, “Has something happened?”

  “No. Oh, no no no,” she explained, realizing her mistake. “I did not intend to frighten you. It is just that I do not think that her baby will wait for another three weeks.”

  Quickly realizing that their fears were the same, Elizabeth took the woman’s hands into her own. “I know. It frightens me as well. Jane, Mary, and I have talked about that potential, along with both Aunt Lily and Aunt Eleanor. We are all greatly concerned.”

  “As is Mr. Quartermain,” Mrs. Jolly stated with a slight smile. “He is always as cheerful as is Mr. Bingley, but you only have to look into his face at an unguarded moment to see his concern.”

  On the first day of June 1820 in the same small chapel where Darcy and Elizabeth had married only a few months before, Mr. Quartermain had quietly married Mrs. Bennet by special license. Aunt Lilly and Uncle Edward; Elizabeth and Darcy; Jane and Bingley; and David were their witnesses, since Mary was still recovering from the birth of her baby. It was hard to fathom with the circumstances of their marriage being what they were, but the pair seemed to be very much in love with one another. Where Mr. Bennet had always treated Fanny as the intellectual inferior that she in reality was, Mr. Quartermain accepted her quirky ways and directed her with gentle nudges. The similarity between Mr. Quartermain’s handling of her mother and the training of a horse was not lost on Elizabeth, but she was not about to enlighten anyone else. As long as her mother was happy and seemed to be much calmer than she could ever remember, Elizabeth was happy as well.

  This observation by the midwife only confirmed her own. “Should I speak to Mr. Quartermain or simply wait to see what happens?” she thought to herself. Unfortunately, events soon rendered that question moot.

  Early that same evening found Elizabeth walking down the stairs behind her mother, on their way to dinner. On the last two steps, her mother abruptly turned her head back to speak with her, lost her footing on the step, fell forward pulling the two footmen with her then jerked backward in an effort to right herself. Elizabeth could only look on in horror. Her scream mingled with her mother’s brought the entire family to the bottom of the second floor stairs, as Mrs. Reynolds and the butler, Mr. Dobbs, rushed up the stairs from the foyer to meet them.

  Peter, the younger of the two footmen, instinctively dove under Mrs. Quartermain to break her fall and cushion the impact on the baby with his own body. As she fell, her legs became tangled with those of Samuel, the second footman. Elizabeth heard a snap . . . a whoosh . . . and then a sickening crack.

  Peter had landed at an awkward angle under Elizabeth’s mother and broken his arm. Samuel lay on the floor with a broken leg wrapped around the equally damaged leg of her mother. And from where her mother had hit her head, blood was running along the last step and onto the floor beneath it.

  Darcy rushed forward toward the stack of tangled limbs, when Dr. Crawford’s voice halted him. “WAIT!” The word seemed to almost hang in the air above the injured party.

  The doctor swiftly walked past Darcy placing a gentle hand on his arm as he went by. “You may unintentionally do more damage. Let me look at them first.”

  As everyone stood silently by and watched, Dr. Crawford went to Mrs. Quartermain, who constituted the top of the fallen trio. He moved his hands carefully first along her broken leg, followed in quick succession to the other leg, both arms, the protruding stomach, and finally her head. Looking up the stairs to where Elizabeth sat only a few steps above, he quickly averted his eyes. Elizabeth immediately knew the injury was gravely serious. He turned to Mrs. Reynolds, “I need a large blanket and four footmen as soon as possible.”

  One of the maids standing amidst the multitude of servants gathered at the head of the stairs ran to the nearest room to strip the duvet from the bed and bring it down the stairs. Four footmen stood waiting beside the doctor. Taking the blanket from the maid,
he spread it on the floor as close to the jumble of injured as possible.

  “Darcy, I will need you to hold her head steady as I untangle her legs.” Samuel groaned and cried out in agony, as his legs had to be maneuvered to free Mrs. Quartermain. Motioning for her husband and Piers to assist, the doctor directed one to hold her leg as securely as possible while the other carefully lifted her from atop Peter’s body and laid her on the blanket.

  “Mrs. Reynolds, please direct the footmen to take Mrs. Quartermain to her bedchamber. I will be there as quickly as possible. Please be certain to move her limbs with exceeding care.”

  “Yes, doctor,” she replied gravely.

  Returning to the remaining injured, he spoke to Samuel as he began to check for injuries other than those that were readily apparent, “Are you injured anywhere other than your leg?

  “No, I do not think so, Sir . . . only my leg,” grimaced the man.

  Dr. Crawford turned to the butler and spoke succinctly, “Mr. Dobbs, can you see this man to his chambers? I will be there as soon as I can. I would suggest giving him a small quantity of laudanum in a bit of wine to dull the pain until I arrive.

  “Yes Sir,” replied Mr. Dobbs, as he sought two more footmen to carry Samuel.

  “We are more than willing to help,” replied Jacob quickly, as he nodded toward Frederick Denny.

  The doctor first directed them to assist the footman upright to stand on his good leg while they made a chair with their arms. As Samuel sat down, they rose and followed Mr. Dobbs to a bedchamber that was used for sick or injured staff and much closer than the servant’s quarters.

  Finally, turning to Peter, he lauded the young man. “That was smart thinking, using your body to cushion that of Mrs. Quartermain. I can see that your arm is broken. How are your ribs?”

  As the doctor gently applied pressure over various parts of Peter’s ribcage, the young man grimaced in pain. “Cracked or badly bruised, no doubt, but I do not think they are broken. Let me check out the rest of you.” Carefully, as he had with the other two injured people, Dr. Crawford checked the rest of his body.

  Darcy and Piers stepped forward, and the doctor smiled as they helped a groaning Peter to his feet. They made a chair with their arms as had their cousins and carried him to a bedchamber next door to the one being used by Samuel. A maid prepared a small quantity of laudanum and gave it to Peter, as she had done moments before for Samuel. Both footmen knew that Mrs. Quartermain’s injuries were grave and needed to be addressed first.

  In her mother’s bedchamber, Elizabeth was beside herself with worry, but seeing the ashen faces of her sisters, knew that she had to be strong for the three of them. Dr. Crawford arrived within minutes, and directed his eyes from Mr. Quartermain. He spoke to Mrs. Reynolds, although he knew that Elizabeth and her sisters would be assisting as much as the housekeeper.

  “Mrs. Reynolds, I need to check the injury to her head. They can be very tricky to treat.” Looking from the woman’s husband, he gazed at Elizabeth directly, and he saw acknowledgement in her eyes. “There was a lot of blood, but a scalp wound tends to bleed profusely while not being very dangerous in and of itself.”

  As he continued his examination, he spoke each of his findings aloud. “The wound is not very deep, but it is about two inches in length and sits on top of a lump the size of an average hen’s egg.” He gently turned her head from side to side with Mrs. Reynolds’ assistance. “There is no evidence of blood in her ears. That is a good sign.”

  Moving the candle closer, he lifted one eyelid and moved the candle back and forth, then did the same for the other eye. “There is no noticeable blood in the eyes, and each seems equally responsive to light. Her breathing is a bit shallow, but not alarmingly so.”

  He then moved his hand along the bones of her lower leg. “Both of the bones are broken. I will need four strips of wood for bracing, each about three feet in length, two inches wide, and a quarter to half of an inch thick.” Mrs. Reynolds nodded toward the young maid standing close to her elbow, and the young woman left immediately. “Also, I will need several lengths of cloth to wrap around the wood and then more for the leg, as well as bandaging for her head.”

  Without being asked, a second maid set off to gather the needed materials and the apothecary box from Mrs. Reynolds office.

  “I will leave you to dress the head wound, while I go to the footmen. As soon as I finish there, I will come back here immediately to set the leg.”

  Less than half an hour later, Mrs. Reynolds had cleaned and dressed the head wound and, with the assistance of the three sisters, had their mother ready to be safely tucked under the covers of her bed once the leg had been set to right.

  It had taken less than a quarter of an hour for the maid to return with the wood for the bracing. Mrs. Reynolds had the maid wrap each piece of wood in several lengths of cloth to soften the feel against the skin. Once that was done, everything was in readiness for the doctor’s return less than an hour later.

  Dr. Crawford had Mr. Quartermain hold the upper part of his wife’s leg firmly as he quickly pulled the bones until they realigned. Looking at the woman’s husband, he answered his unspoken question. “Even in unconsciousness, I had hoped that she would have acknowledged the pain in some fashion as I set her leg.”

  Laying the strips of bracing beneath and along the sides of her leg, he began to wrap lengths of cloth until the broken part of the lower leg from mid-thigh to beyond the bottom of the foot was completely immobile.

  As he finished, he looked at everyone in the room, and his eyes finally came to rest on Elizabeth, who stood beside Mr. Quartermain. “Your mother is gravely injured. She is in a state of deep unconsciousness. I fear that the trauma she has suffered may cause her to begin labor. Someone will need to be with her at all times night and day. Should she awaken, she will have a violent headache that will bring on terrible nausea. It will be very much as you were after awakening from your head injury last year.”

  “Dr. Crawford, I could not help but notice that you said ‘should she awaken.’” Elizabeth looked deeply into his face, trying to discern what he had not said.

  With deliberation, he looked at every member of the family assembled. “I probably should not have spoken so, but I hate to give false hope. With any head injury, the outcome is nearly impossible to predict. As soon as she is made comfortable, I suggest that you begin to talk with her as though she were awake. Read to her. Hold and stroke her hands. I will check on her every few hours.” Then he was gone from the room to again check on the injured footmen.

  Shortly after midnight, Mrs. Quartermain’s body began to spasm almost on the hour. By mid-morning, the spasms were more intense and began to occur more frequently until her water broke shortly after one o’clock in the afternoon. For the next twelve hours, her body convulsed with greater violence. After the last violent contraction, the midwife examined Mrs. Quartermain and found that the opening to her birth canal had greatly expanded. Sending a maid to bring the doctor, she, along with Mr. Quartermain, Mrs. Reynolds, Elizabeth, and Jane moved the unconscious woman from the bed to the birthing chair. Without her ability to assist them, they were going to have to manipulate her stomach and allow gravity to do a portion of the work of the delivery process.

  The next contraction came quickly after she was seated in the chair. “Push down from the top of her stomach and from the top of both sides. Do not be afraid of hurting her or the child, you need to push harder on the next contraction.”

  No sooner had she spoken than Mrs. Quartermain’s body again convulsed violently. “I see the head. Push as hard as you can.” Suddenly a tiny infant filled her hands. She chaffed his back and handed him to an awaiting maid, as the doctor entered the room and quickly looked at the child. She explained dolefully, “He is too small. I think there may be another.” Immediately the doctor accessed her conclusion and agreed readily.

  “Mrs. Jolly let me take your place. On the next contraction, massage the stomach while the ot
hers continue to push. You know how much pressure to exert.”

  “Yes, Doctor,” she replied, as another violent contraction almost jerked the woman from her husband’s hands. As everyone pushed, the second child was expelled and carefully caught by the doctor.

  As he handed the baby to the maid standing in wait for the child, he stood and looked back at the woman’s family: “Keep her in the chair until the afterbirth is delivered. Mrs. Jolly, once she is bathed and back in the bed, continue to gently massage her stomach for about another quarter of an hour to make sure that everything is expelled and settled properly.”

  It was August 25, 1820, and Mrs. Quartermain had just broken her string of delivering only females with the successful delivery of the sixth set of twins named only Benjamin and Simon, for now. Both had light golden hair, wide bright blue eyes, and a very healthy set of lungs.

  As soon as the infants were cleaned, they began to wail loudly and demand to be fed. Jane took the first baby and gently laid him on her mother’s stomach and encouraged him to her mother’s nipple. He latched on and immediately began to suckle greedily. After he had nursed for a bit more than a quarter hour, Jane gently removed him and moved aside so that Elizabeth could place the second infant at the other breast. He nursed as greedily as the first, and finally fell asleep while still suckling, as so many of the babies before him had done with their first feeding.