“I need to see her,” Elizabeth said, rising quickly from the bed and pulling on the dressing gown that had also been left in the room, then running out into the hallway. When she had knocked upon the Bingleys’s door and was bade to enter, she found Jane lying in bed with a cup of tea in one hand, and a saucer in the other. Her colour looked good, and Charles was seated in a chair beside the bed, looking exceedingly relieved.
“Jane, how are you?” she asked.
“Well enough, I suppose.” Jane took a little sip of the tea.
“Dr. Alderman thinks it a good sign that she has gone this long since the birth without any further convulsions, nor any sign of fever,” said Charles. Jane’s countenance appeared to darken during this statement, which Elizabeth could not understand, for it was an hopeful one.
They sat in silence for some time, Jane occasionally sipping her tea, until there was a knock at the door, and Darcy entered. “I just wished to let everyone know – I have been to the nursery, and the baby still does well.”
“Thank you, Darcy, for checking on her,” said Charles. “Jane, why do I not go and bring her down, so you may see her? I think it can be done, since she is well. I shall have Mrs. Padgett wrap her warmly.”
“No!” exclaimed Jane, shaking her head. “There is too much risk. She should be left where she is. You should go see her, though – she should have the presence of one of her parents.”
“I’ll go later then, dear Jane.”
“I – I would rather you go now. You should go as well – Lizzy and Fitzwilliam. I am sure you have not seen your own sons in some time, with all the upheaval this has caused,” said Jane, “and – and I think I would like to be alone for a little while, to rest. So long as there is a servant in the hall, I can call out if I need any assistance.”
Thus, both of the Darcys and Charles left the room and began the walk to the nursery, Elizabeth a little perplexed at her sister’s behaviour. She did not have opportunity to dwell upon it, however, for as they approached the nursery, the sound of the twins’ laughter could be heard. It seemed utterly incongruous that after all that had happened, anyone in the house should sound so happy. Yet James and George were not ruled by adult worries of childbirth and agitated sisters; they lived simple lives in which happiness could be easily found when all of their needs were met and a friend was near.
It seemed the entry of their parents was further cause for happiness, for James smiled even more broadly and raised his pudgy arms toward them, and George, watching him, followed suit. They were rewarded with embraces from their parents, who knelt down on the floor with them, completing this family reunion.
For a little while, Elizabeth felt her own world was as simple and happy as theirs, to hold James against her chest and feel his little fingers playing with her hair. Then she looked over to where Charles held his new daughter, his countenance troubled. Unlike her elder sister, this child seemed exceedingly quiet, almost as though guilty over the havoc her entry into the world had brought about.
Charles caught that Elizabeth’s gaze was upon him, and said, “She seems well, thank God, and so long as Jane’s health improves, I think we can put that horrific birth behind us.”
“Has she a name, yet?”
“Yes – Amelia, after my mother. Jane did not wish to name her after herself.”
+++
Jane’s health improved steadily through the rest of the day, so much so that Dr. Alderman proposed he return to Matlock the next morning, so long as she was still well. Yet while her health was better, Elizabeth could not call her well. Her sister’s preference was to be left alone, and when company did enter her room – particularly when that company was Dr. Alderman – Jane seemed irritated and snappish, entirely unlike herself.
Dr. Alderman’s final examination was perfunctory, largely because upon his entering Jane’s bedchamber, she said, “I am well enough – please leave.”
Charles said he would see the physician out, leaving Elizabeth alone in the room with her sister. “You are well enough, I think, to go and see Amelia now. Why do we not go up to the nursery?” she asked.
“I do not want to see her, Lizzy. Not yet.”
“Jane, I know your birth was difficult, and frightening – it was for all of us – but you should go and see your daughter.”
“I suppose next you are going to tell me I ought to be grateful that the child and I are both well, and that I should put it behind me, as Charles does,” said Jane, bitterly. “Well I cannot put it behind me, Lizzy. I cannot forget it, and I cannot put it behind me, and I cannot forgive him for letting that man do that thing to me.”
“Jane, it was necessary, for your health, and that of the child.”
“If that is all you have to say, you should leave me, Lizzy. You don’t understand. No one understands.”
Such a statement by her sister could not but wound Elizabeth, but in it, she understood her sister’s wounds were far deeper. With tears in her eyes, she seated herself in the chair beside Jane’s bed, took up her sister’s hand, and said, “I am so sorry, Jane. Please, talk to me – help me understand. Tell me what I can do to help you.”
“You cannot help me, for I can never stop thinking about it,” whispered Jane. “I have a very hard time sleeping, and when I do fall asleep, I have such nightmares about it. I know I should want to see Amelia, but the mere thought of her is just another reminder, and then I feel guilty that I am being a terrible mother.”
“Oh Jane, my poor dear sister,” Elizabeth said. She wished to try to say something that might make Jane feel better, but as her words had failed so substantially before, thought instead that she would just listen. There was much to listen to, for Jane’s feelings encompassed lingering fear, at having her child dragged from her body in such a manner; anger, that the two people she most trusted in the world had allowed such a thing to happen to her; and shame, for an event that had felt like a rape, to her.
“I am sorry, Jane, I am so sorry. I cannot go back and change what happened, but I want to do whatever I can to help you, now.”
“Just listening was helpful, Lizzy. Thank you for that.”
“I wish I would have done so earlier.”
Elizabeth left her sister and went out into the hall, finding Charles just returning, and asking her, “May I speak with you, about Jane? She is not herself.”
“She is herself,” said Elizabeth, “but she has gone through something awful – something more awful for her than I think either of us realised. The birth is over, for us, but it stays in her mind, and telling her to get past it shall not help her get past it. Talk to her, please – talk to her, and listen.”
He nodded and opened the door to Jane’s room. Elizabeth watched him with concern, understanding that the future of the Bingleys’s marriage might well depend upon the conversation they were about to have.
+++
The conversation, it seemed, went as well as it could have, for Jane appeared in slightly better spirits when Elizabeth next went to check on her. She still expressed no interest in seeing her daughter, but Elizabeth understood now that she could not be pressed upon it. At least, Elizabeth thought, there was little detriment to the child, for Amelia had more than ample care within the nursery, and could be nursed by Mrs. Padgett.
Those caring for her could not love her as family, of course, but Elizabeth could surely provide familial love, and she decided she should go to the nursery for such purposes now. Her progress toward seeing Amelia was somewhat interrupted by James and George; Amelia had no expectations of Elizabeth’s time and attention, but they did, and she was pleased to give it. Once they had settled upon the floor and returned to playing, however, she was able to go over to the little girl’s cradle and pick her up.
Holding such a peaceful little child against her chest ought to have given Elizabeth peace herself, but her thoughts could not but guiltily return to Jane. It pained her that Jane felt betrayed by the two people she had most trusted in the world, and Eliza
beth thought back to the birth with regrets over how she had reacted.
Darcy came in, and it took some effort to return his smile to her. When the twins had played their fill with him on the floor, and Elizabeth had returned Amelia to her cradle, they walked out of the nursery together, and he asked after Jane’s health.
“Her health is good – but – may I talk with you about something?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said, “here, let us go down to our chambers.”
He led her down the stairs to their private sitting-room, and once there, Elizabeth told him of everything that had happened at Amelia’s birth, and how it had affected Jane.
Darcy looked grieved. “I heard the screams – we all did – but I did not think that had been the cause.”
“I think back now, and wish we had taken half a minute more, to give Jane the decision over what was to be done. I think if it would have been in her control, it might have been different for her.”
“You cannot blame yourself, nor Charles, nor even Dr. Alderman. You all did what you thought was necessary to save her life and that of the child. Who is to say that extra half-minute would not have made the difference?” Darcy said. “That does not mean Jane’s feelings are not legitimate, for they are, but at least she is alive to have them. You did what you thought was best, in a very difficult time.”
Elizabeth nodded, and sought his embrace. It would not have been the right thing to say to Jane, but it was the right thing to say to her.
Darcy’s was not the last advice she sought on the matter, although the information she sought from Sarah was quite different. When her maid came to change her that evening, Elizabeth asked, “Sarah, have you ever known a woman to shake, during childbirth?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’ve seen it a few times. My mamma’s seen it more.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“Depends, ma’am. When it first happened and I was attending, my mamma said there was good shakes, and bad shakes.”
“How do you know the difference? And what do you do, for the bad shakes?”
“You have to see it, to know. I’ve not seen the bad shakes myself, which I’m that glad of, for to answer your other question, there was nothing what we could do. Maybe a physician – one of the man-midwives like your Dr. Whittling – maybe they have things they could do. But for us it meant the mother would die, either before or after she had the child.”
“My sister was shaking, during Amelia’s birth. Dr. Alderman said the baby had to be removed immediately – he used forceps.”
“Then there are things a physician can do, to save the mother,” Sarah said. “I’m so glad for Mrs. Bingley.”
“What if it wasn’t the bad shakes, though?” asked Elizabeth. “Dr. Alderman does not see very many births, and I suspect much of his knowledge comes from books.”
“Maybe it was, and maybe it wasn’t, but the important thing is that Mrs. Bingley and the baby are well.”
Elizabeth did not share with Sarah that Jane was not entirely well, and instead said, “Sarah, may I ask something of you? Something that is surely beyond the bounds of your position, and you must feel free to say no, if you do not wish to do it.”
Sarah nodded.
“Will you attend any of my sisters’ births that I attend? It would make me much easier at mind to have you there, too.”
“Oh, I don’t mind that at all, ma’am. In truth, I’d rather attend and help, if I can. It’s much better than waiting and worrying.”
Elizabeth came away from this conversation no more or less settled that what had been done was the right thing, and she was very glad for the comforts of her husband, when she came to bed. They did not speak, but he surely knew what still troubled her, for he quietly pulled her into an embrace and they laid together thus until Elizabeth fell asleep.
+++
Amelia continued to be a model child, hardly needing to be fed more than twice during the night and crying but rarely. Her mother’s improvement, however, was slow, and often beset by setbacks. Eventually she allowed Bess to be brought down to see her, and did seem cheered by the presence of her firstborn child, but Amelia was always to be left in the nursery, held by her father, her aunt, and her uncle, but never her mother.
The weather could not have aided Jane’s mood, for the September skies continued the sullen greyness that had comprised the summer, and it rained nearly every day. It was through hallways dampened by this greyness that Elizabeth went to see how her sister was doing on this day.
Jane attempted a smile, and Elizabeth seated herself, then they descended into silence for some time. Finally, Jane said, “Lizzy, may I ask you to do something with me? You may think me mad, but I think it would help.”
“Of course, Jane, and I shall not think you mad at all.”
“Will you – will you pretend with me that the birth had gone differently? I mean – I mean I want to talk about how it could have been, to put something better in my imagination.”
Elizabeth did find the request a little surprising, and perhaps a little strange, although she did not think Jane mad. A few moments’ thought gave her the understanding that an attempt to replace the birth in Jane’s mind with something better might be the best means by which her sister could begin to forget how it had truly gone. To Jane, she merely nodded, and said, “How shall we begin? I do not know how things were, before I arrived with Dr. Alderman.”
Jane shook her head, and said, “That is one of the things I wish to change. Let us say your accoucheur, your Dr. Whittling, had come to attend me.”
Over the next half-hour, Elizabeth and her sister fabricated a better birth; one where Dr. Whittling calmly informed Jane the forceps would be needed, and asked Jane for permission to use the instrument. One where the accoucheur had kept the forceps in a basin of warm water, so the metal was not shockingly cold upon its needing to be used, and when it was used, where Dr. Whittling was constantly telling Jane what he was about, lessening her fear over what was being done. It was nearly as much a fabrication for Elizabeth as it was for Jane, for while Elizabeth had better knowledge of the accoucheur’s personality, he had arrived too late for her sons’ births, and they had been delivered by Sarah instead.
Still, it seemed to do much to benefit Jane’s equanimity, to blur, if just slightly, that event which had before existed so sharply in her memory. They sat quietly, after they had spoken of Amelia’s being wiped clean and handed to her mother, and Elizabeth was considering calling for tea when Jane said, “I think I would like to try to see her later, after I rest a little.”
Elizabeth nodded, and smiled, attempting to temper her relief and enthusiasm over this statement. It would not do to make it seem a substantial event, when Jane might not retain her courage or her peace over the next few hours. So Elizabeth merely promised to return later and see if Jane still wished to go, reached over and squeezed her sister’s hand, then left her bedchamber.
She went to her husband’s study and found him there, holding a newspaper in his hand with a perturbed expression upon his countenance.
“How is she?” he asked.
“Better, I think,” Elizabeth said. “We are going to go and see Amelia later, I hope.”
“That is good progress,” he said, smiling encouragingly. “Is there anything I may do to help?”
“I would like – I think it would be beneficial if you could call upon Dr. Whittling, while you are in town, and learn of his thoughts on what should have been done about the convulsions. He has seen far more births than Dr. Alderman, and I would like to know what he would have done.”
“I shall call on him, although I do not know if he will be willing to speak against someone he may consider a colleague.”
“I would not consider Dr. Alderman a colleague, nor do I think Dr. Alderman himself should do so. Dr. Alderman has always been upfront that he does not attend many births.”
“True, in that I suppose we should be glad he at least knew what to do to bring the child o
ut safely,” Darcy said. “If Dr. Whittling does differ in what he would have done, will you tell Jane?”
“I wish to hear what he says, before I decide on that, but I believe I will do so. I think it will do her good, to know someone with his experience would have gone about things differently, although I suspect Jane will wish to have her next birth in town – with him attending – if so,” Elizabeth said.
Darcy promised they would open up the London house for that event, if this was Jane’s wish, and travel there with the Bingleys so Elizabeth could attend her sister. With this subject settled, Elizabeth turned her mind to what had put her husband in such a state when she had come in, for she did not think it had merely been Jane’s health.
“Now will you tell me,” said she, eyeing him particularly, “what it is that has distressed you?”
“It is nothing so substantial as what concerns your sister,” he said, “but the scarcity is such that the price of wheat has gone above the threshold set by the Corn Bill. I never would have thought we would see such a thing.”
Elizabeth recalled how concerned he had been before the Corn Bill had passed, and said, “What will this mean for our farmers?”
“It means those of them who can manage to harvest any wheat will be paid well for it, so it will be of great benefit to them. It will further put the cost of bread out of reach for the poor, however. I expect we will see more poachers.”
“Poachers?”
“Yes, Hodgson told me at least a few partridges have gone missing.”
“Will you do anything?”
“I would rather double our efforts with the soup than attempt to prosecute this. When a man cannot feed his family in an honest way, it is no surprise if he turns to poaching. I believe I would, if I had no other choice.”
Elizabeth felt a certain swelling of love for him, and came around to his side of the desk so she could kiss him very thoroughly.
“Now what have I done to deserve that?” he asked. “Do not think I am complaining, for I most certainly am not, but I would like to know so I may do it again in the future.”
A Season Lost Page 29
