“Oh! Oh, I never thought of that and I should have.”
“I did think of it and had thought I should be able to rid myself of the excess milk, but it seems I am not so good at it as I had presumed I would be.”
“You must take this feeding, then,” said Jane. “I will go up with you.”
When they arrived, it was Jane now who was to be the unneeded one. The situation was explained to Mrs. Padgett, Elizabeth was handed the child and carried her behind the dressing screen. Sarah had travelled with her but had not been apprised of the current situation, but Mrs. Padgett helped with Elizabeth’s dress and stays, then left her.
Feeling exceedingly strange and missing her own sons, Elizabeth offered one breast to Amelia, and was heartened when the baby gained a hold with her mouth immediately and began to relieve that painfully swollen organ. The pain was just beginning to recede when the infant removed her mouth and yawned.
“What? – you cannot be done now!” Elizabeth cried, startling the baby a little.
It appeared she was overheard by Mrs. Padgett, for that woman’s voice came from the opposite side of the dressing screen, “she’s a slow one on the breast, ma’am. Likes to stop an’ go. She’ll get back to it on her own time.”
Elizabeth realised that it had always seemed to take Jane a very long time to feed the child, and now she understood the reason. “I should have supposed even you would come up with some way to require her patience,” she murmured to Amelia.
The baby opened her mouth a few times and then returned to her meal for a few minutes, then yawned and quit again. This went on for nearly an hour, Elizabeth switching the baby to the opposite breast during one of these breaks of Amelia’s. Elizabeth had found it odd, and Mrs. Padgett surely did as well, but as Jane had nursed no other child, this must have seemed normal to her – certainly it did not seem to bother her – and there was a certain sweetness to the sleepy way Amelia approached her nursing. When she had fallen asleep entirely and did not seem likely to rouse, Elizabeth called back Mrs. Padgett to take her, and found Sarah had been summoned to help restore her stays and dress. She followed her maid out from behind the dressing screen and found Jane holding Bess, both of them gazing down at Amelia in her cradle.
“Sissa,” said Bess, pointing to the baby.
“Yes, Bess, very good – she is your sister, Amelia.”
“Amewia,” repeated Bess.
“Very good, my Bessy,” said Jane. “Now you are big and strong, and Amelia is little and delicate, so you will have to look after her, to protect her. Can you do that? Can you be a good big sister?”
“Big sissa!” exclaimed Bess, which seemed as likely an affirmation as Jane was going to get.
Elizabeth would have stayed for longer, but for Mr. Davies knocking on the door and informing her that Mr. Darcy was there to call. Her reaction was formed of a deep surge of enthusiasm to see him, and although she did walk, she surely made Mr. Davies take up a faster than natural pace as they went down to the drawing-room. The very name, Mr. Darcy, was a reminder of love, of home, of her sons, and the sight of him cause for the deepest tenderness in her heart. Mr. Davies only just beat her to the door so that he could open it, and Darcy crossed the drawing-room rapidly, took up her hands, and kissed her comparably chastely, before the butler.
Mr. Davies withdrew, and they were alone. Darcy kissed her more thoroughly, and then said, “the twins are both well.”
“How well you know me.”
“While I might enjoy claiming such credit, I can think of nothing else any mother in your situation would have asked about first. Unless perhaps you had wished to hear what Cook served Anne and I for dinner last night.”
She chuckled. “How is Anne?”
“No better or worse than she has been – there has been no change in her romantic situation. I do still intend to call on Smith, so perhaps my persuasion will help.”
“I hope so.”
He pulled her still closer, and they stayed there, quietly embracing. If his absence had been for longer, Elizabeth might have suggested they retreat to her bedchamber, but it was so lovely just to be held like this, she was not inclined to move, and it did not seem he was, either.
The Bingleys gave the Darcys a goodly amount of marital privacy in the drawing-room, but did eventually enter, and the foursome sat in conversation for another hour before Darcy rose, to take his leave. Charles and Jane both attempted to get him to stay to dinner, and were it not for Anne back at Pemberley, he would have taken the invitation. He would not leave Anne alone there for the evening, however.
If he had brought the twins with him, Elizabeth might not have felt a rapidly growing desire to return to Pemberley, but feel it she did. She was the agitated one at dinner and in the drawing-room that evening, and she awoke early the next morning very ready to be whisked back to Pemberley, just as her husband had described. Jane seemed to have settled in very well, and surely Elizabeth could make frequent visits back, to check on her sister. If she remained another day, she would need to nurse Amelia again, and while Jane would of course allow her to do so, it was her own sons she wished to suckle.
Jane was in the breakfast-parlour, and when Elizabeth had come in and made her selections from the sideboard, she asked, “Jane, do you feel you still need me here? I shall stay, of course, if you do, but I find myself missing my sons very much.”
“Oh, then you should go back to them today. It has been so good of you to come out here, but it has been much to ask you to be parted from them while they are still so young, and I am doing very well.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Thank you – I shall be back to visit frequently, I promise.”
The weather being relatively fine, Elizabeth proposed they have a little walk about the grounds before she would depart, perhaps even so far as to see the progress on the new house, and Jane readily agreed. The Clareborne grounds were not so fine as those of Pemberley, but their greater contrast with that estate was in the amount of activity taking place on them. At Pemberley the occasional gardener could be seen, while here workers seemed to be everywhere, carrying materials to the new house; entering and exiting the tents that had been erected near the nascent building, which appeared as naught but a set of walls above the hill that rose before the strolling sisters.
Having never seen a house under construction, Elizabeth listened with curiosity as Jane explained that the tents housed brickmakers, carpenters, masons, and other tradesmen. They were nearest that of the blacksmith, and peered inside, much to the surprise of the man working there. Elizabeth gazed inquisitively at what the blacksmith was about, until she noticed Jane’s entire body had gone rigid, and she was staring in horror at the tongs in his hands. To Elizabeth they could hardly resemble the forceps that had been used on her sister, but it was very apparent that they were so to Jane.
Bidding the blacksmith an hasty good day, Elizabeth grabbed her sister’s arm and pulled her away, looking about the grounds until she saw a bench. By the time the sisters reached it and were seated, Jane was weeping, and very much in need of her sister’s embrace.
“I was doing so good,” whimpered Jane. “I had hardly thought about it, for days. But his tools reminded me of – of it.”
“Oh Jane, I’m so sorry. I fear you will be reminded of it on occasion – it cannot be helped. It will be a part of your past, now.”
They sat in silence for some time, until Elizabeth asked, “Do you want to speak of the birth we created?”
Jane replied that she did, and once again the sisters told each other the story of the birth that had never been. By the end of it, Jane did seem much better, and it was she who proposed they return to the house. Waiting there was Powell, with the Darcy post-chaise, and upon seeing it, Elizabeth said. “Oh, I should not go back now – I should stay at least a few days more. I shall need to take another turn with Amelia today, though.”
“Nay, Lizzy, go home to your sons. You cannot remain here forever, and I will get through this.”<
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Elizabeth had never felt this way before, this sensation of being torn between two families. She had never been required to feel it, she thought, because for so long she had enjoyed the luxury of having Jane living in her house. It had not been a luxury to Jane, though, to have an husband so often absent, to live as a guest for so long, rather than managing her own home. Now their lives – their very relationship – would by necessity change, and it was impossible to prioritise being a sister over being a mother. Yet could she leave now, after what had just happened?
As if sensing her sister’s indecision, Jane laid her hand on her shoulder and said. “Go, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth stared at the chaise and knew she could not bring herself to tell Powell to return it to the stables. “I – I will go for a visit, but I shall return and stay for another day or two.”
“That is very good of you,” Jane said, smiling gently. “Thank you.”
With that, Elizabeth embraced her sister once more and directed Sarah, who had been standing beside the carriage in quiet confusion, to return to the house. Elizabeth then nodded to Powell, who mounted postilion; she was assisted into the carriage by Mr. Davies, and it rolled forward. The notion that she had made what seemed a good compromise did nothing to ease her tears during those first miles back to her home. By the final miles, however, she had recovered, and felt more an eager anticipation of seeing all of her boys than regret over having left Clareborne. She alighted the carriage in Pemberley’s drive and was surprised that only Mr. Parker met her there. “Oh, have Mr. Darcy and I passed each other on the road?” she cried, wondering how Powell could have failed to recognise an oncoming carriage painted in Pemberley’s livery, or Mr. Darcy mounted on a horse that would surely have been known to him.
“Nay, ma’am, he’s down at the stables,” Parker said. “We shall inform him of your presence when the chaise is sent down.”
“Oh, but I would like to see him immediately,” said Elizabeth, telling Parker she would ride there in the chaise to greet Mr. Darcy. Something in Parker’s countenance seemed to indicate some reluctance towards her doing so, although he did not endeavour to stop her.
The arrival of the chaise was greeted with a great deal of surprise and consternation by the multitude of men standing about in the yard. Elizabeth recalled the last time she had seen such a gathering and thought immediately of Kingfisher: were they watching some marked improvement due to this different manner of shoeing him, or had he suffered a decline?
When she saw her husband’s face, Elizabeth knew immediately it was the latter. He came to where she was standing, took up her hand and kissed it lightly, then said, “Oh Elizabeth, I had hoped to have this done before you returned.”
“Is it Kingfisher? Is he worse?” she asked, looking about the yard for the horse. King was absent, however.
“He suffered another bout of founder – poor Marshall is beside himself, but there was nothing he could have done. Once the horse has his first attack, he can become very sensitive to anything he eats, and in this season it is nearly impossible to keep the oats free from damp.”
Upon seeing her, Darcy’s countenance had slipped into some betrayal of his emotions, but he set his mouth firmly, grimly, now, and Elizabeth saw him almost seem to summon that mask of stoic reserve. It was needed, for now she could see what the men in the yard appeared to have been waiting for – it was not the horse, but rather the emergence from over the hill leading to Pemberley Woods of the estate’s undergardeners. They all carried shovels.
Then Marshall approached his master with a half-cocked pistol in his hand. “‘Tis all ready, sir. We’ll bring him out, now, and I’ll do it myself.”
“No, I would prefer that I do it,” Darcy said, although in his position, his preference was tantamount to a genteel command, and he held out his hand so Marshall could give him the pistol. It was only now that Elizabeth fully grasped what was happening, what it was that her husband had wished to be over before she returned. A man with Darcy’s income would not send a beloved mount to the knacker’s yard: the undergardeners had been digging the horse’s grave, and the it Darcy and Marshall referred to was to put the poor creature down lest he suffer any longer.
She stood with tears in her eyes as Kingfisher was finally led out into the yard, hobbling violently, now, and Darcy went over to take up the lead line in his right hand, the pistol held in his left. He patted the horse’s neck and began to walk slowly, painstakingly, wretchedly out in the direction the undergardeners had come from, old King faithfully following him, although each step clearly pained the horse. Elizabeth suspected the servants in the yard might have watched this until horse and man disappeared over the hill, but for her presence, for they each made guilty glances towards her and then began going about their duties.
Elizabeth, therefore, was left to stand alone and watch such horrific progress, until Darcy and old King could no longer be seen. Still she waited, gazing at the hill, and it was a very long time before the report of the pistol could finally be heard. To this, her reaction was a sob of astonishing strength, and she fled inside the stable quite surprised at her own emotions over the event. She wished for comfort which could not be given to her by her husband – whenever he returned, she was determined she would only provide it. Having ridden three mounts for very nearly the same length of time, any of these creatures might have given her what she sought, but it was Flora who made her case convincingly, whickering to her mistress upon sighting her. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around Flora’s neck, buried her face in the mare’s mane, and cried freely.
In time she recovered, but Darcy had not yet returned, and Elizabeth understood it might be a very long time before he did so. She left Flora, therefore, for those two who could provide her with even greater comfort. She found George unchanged as far as crawling, but on such a day, she thought perhaps she ought to count her blessings that the twins were at least both comparably healthy, and so eager to be held by their mama as she was to hold them. James, of course, reached her first, with apparent delight upon his sweet little countenance. He was wriggling and ready to be set down by the time George had wabbled over to her and extended his arms in as plain a message that he was desirous of being held as a child his age could ever give. “You are very serious, George, like your papa,” Elizabeth murmured to him, as he laid his little head against her chest. “He is having a very difficult day, your poor papa. I do not know if he will feel well enough to come and see you – although perhaps he already has.”
This statement was, perhaps, overheard by Anne de Bourgh, who entered the nursery and exclaimed, “Oh, Elizabeth – I did not realise you were back!”
“Just for a little visit,” Elizabeth said, looking expectantly at Anne, for of all the rooms in the house, the nursery was not one she would have expected her cousin to frequent in her absence.
Anne seemed to sense this, for she blushed, and said, “I have been endeavouring to spend more time with my nephews, in the hopes of – of a little practise, I suppose, in chance I ever become a mother myself.”
“Do you think that a possibility?” Elizabeth asked. “Has Mr. Smith said yes, then?”
Anne blushed still more thoroughly and said he had not. Elizabeth recalled Darcy’s intent to speak to Mr. Smith, and realised such plans might have been interrupted by what occupied him at present.
“I am sorry – I hope it shall all be resolved soon,” Elizabeth said.
Anne sighed. “Only if the resolution is what I wish for. Otherwise I believe I would rather be left in suspense. At least in suspense there is a chance.”
“Yes, of course. I hope deeply that he shall decide in your favour. It does him credit, perhaps, that he has been so cautious, but I hope the time approaches when he will set aside his caution and agree to the marriage.”
Anne had plainly been visiting the nursery often enough for both of the twins to be comfortable with her presence, and indeed James approached her and awkwardly settled himself into her lap, on
ce she had seated herself upon the floor. They all sat quietly, for a time, until Anne asked, “Did you intend to stay to dinner? I believe Mr. Darcy planned to take a little cold collation in his apartment. I was going to do the same in mine.”
Elizabeth had not considered this – her intent before arriving had been to return that day, but yet again she found herself torn between families. After a little reflection, however, she decided she should stay the night; what troubled Jane was of longer standing, and she thought Darcy would need what comforts she could provide after what he had been required to do that day.
“Yes, I believe I will stay, but we will keep with the cold collations, I think, if you do not mind. I do not believe Darcy will be equal to a family dinner.”
“No, I do not mind at all. I know too well what it is to be forced into company when you are unequal to it.”
Elizabeth offered Anne a sympathetic smile. “I am very glad those days are over for you, Anne.”
Anne returned her smile, but before she could say anything James began fussing in her lap, and crawled over to his mother, reaching for her breast. As his mother’s breasts were beginning to grow painful again, she was very happy to pick him up to carry him behind the dressing-screen. “Come on, my efficient little boy, and help your mother,” she said. Surely Anne thought this was an odd thing for a mother to say to her son, but she said nothing of it.
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Once a messenger had been sent to Clareborne, and the cold collation had been confirmed for the private sitting-room that joined their apartments, Elizabeth could have little to do but sit within that space and await the entrance of her husband. She heard first the sounds of a bath being prepared for him, and endeavoured to occupy herself from the bookshelf they kept in this room. Drawing from the volumes of Cowper, she read idly as the servants came in to lay out the little dinner on the Pembroke table across the room, dismissing them after they had finished. When Darcy finally entered, it was with his entire posture seeming to encompass defeat, and himself attired in a faded old banyan, worn over an unbuttoned shirt and breeches.
A Season Lost Page 39
