Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
Elizabeth took two tries to stand from the sofa to move to her writing box at the table on the other side of her parlour. It was now the end of September, but she would have to endure pregnancy a little longer. She heard Charlotte give a light laugh as she eased into the chair.
“Yes, I have quite a lapful,” she said drily, “but I can still haul it around, thank you very much.”
She waddled now, but she could still climb the stairs and walk in the garden. She was just slower. Still, four weeks remained, and she was feeling weary of being pregnant. Another false pain came and went, and she felt it across her abdomen and her back.
“Have you had news from Jane?” Charlotte asked while Elizabeth put her letter away.
“She is well, and all our friends too. She expects an addition to her family next year. She says Bingley has put chaises in several rooms and she is to rest as often as she can. Apparently, my mother is even more…”
“Cautious?” Charlotte supplied.
“I would have said controlling, but your word places my mother in a better light.” Elizabeth could not stand to be so restricted and was grateful she had the freedom to come and go as she pleased. If she had been confined in a recumbent position for months, she would have lost patience with everyone unfortunate enough to walk past her.
“Is Mr Darcy still with the Bingleys?”
Elizabeth kept her smile in place. Three weeks he had been gone, and he was as much on her mind as he was since the day he proposed. She missed his company, missed his conversation, missed his humour, and his kindness. There was no escaping the memory of him, and certainly not while she was in his house.
How many nights had she spent staring up at the ceiling over her bed, her body burning as she remembered Darcy’s kisses?
Apparently, one could not rid oneself of love by refusing to acknowledge it.
“I said, is Mr Darcy still with your sister and his friend?” Charlotte repeated.
“Yes. Jane says he leaves them soon, but he is returning to Ramsgate to retrieve his sister himself. So rather than expect him on the twenty-fourth, all of them return together a week after that.”
“He stayed away longer than he planned. Everyone will be back for the big event,” Charlotte added, smiling.
“So long as they do not expect to be in the room,” Elizabeth said, shifting in her chair to get comfortable. “The midwife will do well enough for me.”
Charlotte set down her work to look at her. “Do you want me there, Eliza? I was with my mother for her last three. I hate to think of you with only a midwife by your side.”
Elizabeth felt a deep mixture of gratitude and pleasure that her friend would not leave her alone. “Thank you. I did not want to presume.”
“There is no one nearer to me than you!” Charlotte cried. “Why else would I spend my summer in Derbyshire?”
“To avoid your mother? That is certainly why I am here. Can you imagine how she would be carrying on if she knew I was still climbing the stairs?”
“Your mother only wishes to care for you. ”
“And see me remarried six weeks after this child arrives, if she can.”
Charlotte pressed her lips together and shook her head, but let it go. “Have you chosen a name?”
“Are you hinting that Charlotte is a fine name for a little girl?” Elizabeth teased. “Actually, that is a lovely name, and had I not promised Jane to name my first girl for her, Charlotte would suit well.”
“What about for a boy? After his father?”
Family names were always expected, but she was not of a mind lately to name her son for the men in her life. Her husband and father had both neglected her welfare, no matter how much they had loved her. “To be honest, I cannot think of one whom I would want to give that honour to.”
“What about your uncle Gardiner?”
Elizabeth smiled at the thought. “Edward is a good name,” she said. “My aunt and uncle were in the Lake District and are now on their way home to London. I might have asked them to visit if Darcy had been here to approve of the invitation.”
“I doubt he would mind.”
She shrugged and busied herself with replying to Jane. It felt wrong to invite guests to another man’s house without his permission. Especially when she had refused his offer to be Pemberley’s mistress and therefore be able to invite whomever she pleased. What man would be content to arrive home to find not only guests he did not invite, but guests of the woman who had refused him?
She was not even certain she wanted to be here when Darcy returned. Her feelings were the same as they were three weeks ago: in love with him but unable to marry him. She had an independent spirit, and enough life experience to want to keep that independence. She had refused Darcy, broke his heart. So what was she still doing in his house?
Her income was now sixty pounds a year, and that was as independent as she was ever going to be. She might as well begin that new life now. And she could not hide at Pemberley forever .
While Charlotte talked about news from home, Elizabeth did some calculations on the back of Jane’s letter. Rent for a few rooms in Meryton would be one-third of her pension, and a serving girl might be ten guineas a year. She would have to go without tea, and there would be few candles in the evening. There would be nothing to pay for her child’s education when the time came, and there would be hardly anything left for reserves. But she could do it. Her father and Mr Bingley would send gifts of food, and there would eventually be Bingley cousins to pass down clothes and toys to her child.
If she survived in Spain on mere shillings, she could survive on sixty pounds a year. There was no doubt in her mind she could endure anything.
Another steady pain went through her before receding. It was time to form a new home, and there was no reason to wait another month. She would be miserable living at Longbourn or Netherfield, but she could rent a few rooms in Meryton and be settled before the baby’s arrival.
And she had to be gone from Pemberley before Darcy returned next week.
Elizabeth eased herself out of her chair and pulled the bell. The bags could be packed quickly, and someone would take them to the coaching inn. The servants would think she was mad to travel now, but they would not stop her.
“I want to have this child in Meryton,” she announced.
Charlotte gave her a confused look and then laughed. “It is a little late for that, Eliza, especially since you can imagine what your mother would say about you travelling now.”
“I will not trespass on Mr Darcy’s kindness any longer. I always intended to return to Meryton; I am simply moving forward my plans.”
“Are you in earnest?” Charlotte asked in a more serious tone. “Now? Leave Pemberley now?”
“I came here to rest and recover my spirits. I thought it would take until the end of the year, but now I am ready to be on my own, and in my own home. ”
She had wanted to return to England so desperately after Fitzwilliam died. Now here she was, but Pemberley was not home.
Her heart whispered that it could have been.
She had reason to refuse Darcy, and it was a sensible reason. It was too frightening a thought to rely on a husband again. She could do anything, and she could do it alone. Sitting in this fine house with her feet on stools and her expenses paid for—how was that being independent?
“Well, if you truly want to return to Meryton,” Charlotte said, frowning, “today is the twenty-fourth. Mr Darcy returns with Miss Darcy on the first of October. He would send us home in his own carriage with a man to take care of us along the way.”
“I am done relying on Mr Darcy.” Charlotte flinched at her tone. Elizabeth smiled cheerily to hide her distress. “We will take the stagecoach. We might make it to Northampton tomorrow and be home in two and a half days.”
“Have you taken leave of your senses?” she cried. “You really want to travel at such a breakneck pace? And with no man to attend to us?”
“You think Northampton would be a bit much to hope for? I agree, given it will take me a quarter of an hour to get in and out of a stagecoach, as large and clumsy as I am. Perhaps Leicester, then? That is sixty miles from Pemberley. We could make that the first day.” The important thing was to be off the London road before Darcy and his sister travelled it themselves in a few days.
“Are you truly doing this, Eliza? If you really want to leave and won’t impose on Mr Darcy, write to your father. He will retrieve you himself.”
Elizabeth whirled round. “My child will be one year old before my father troubles himself.”
Charlotte’s countenance fell as she realised the truth of it. “Then let me write to my father. He would come for us in a week.”
She considered it for a moment. But if they waited for Sir William, they were sure to encounter Darcy. And waiting around for another man to help her do what she could, and should, do for herself inflamed the already impatient and frustrated feelings in her chest. She was a widow; she could travel alone with Charlotte. It might not be the wisest or the most common action to travel without a man, but they would be polite and tip well and no one would trouble them.
Elizabeth took Charlotte’s hands. “I must leave, and I am leaving tomorrow. I am not having this baby at Pemberley. If you want to wait for your father, I understand—truly, I do.”
Charlotte sighed. “I would be a selfish friend if I let you travel alone, delicate condition or not.”
“No, you would be sensible to wait for Sir William, and I know I am being reckless by not heeding your advice.” She squeezed Charlotte’s fingers. “But I have to go.”
“Why, my dear Eliza?” Charlotte asked. “Why leave now?”
She could never tell Charlotte the truth. Elizabeth already had to suffer from the painful feelings necessarily attending to her refusal. Guilt, regret, disappointment, embarrassment, loss. She did not also need to hear Charlotte’s peevish allusions to her deplorable financial situation or exclamations of how could she refuse as good a man as Darcy.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and sighed. “Please do not ask me.”
Charlotte made a little frustrated noise in her throat. “You may depend upon my seeking no further.”
“I know you must be burning with curiosity, and I may someday answer your questions, but for now, I simply have to leave Pemberley.”
Her friend gave her a long look, hoping, perhaps, that more information would be forthcoming. When she remained silent, Charlotte finally said, “If you are determined to leave, we will get a stagecoach first thing in the morning.”
Elizabeth resented the apartments they had in the Blue Bell in Leicester, up two pair of stairs, with a sitting room and bedchambers. She had thought they could make it another forty miles to Northampton, but that did not consider the time spent convincing Mrs Reynolds that she was truly leaving, and then waiting for stagecoaches to arrive and bags to be loaded.
She had other reasons for wanting to press on past Leicester. Lord Milton’s seat in Peterborough was only forty miles west of here. She was half a day’s drive from the greatest threat to her peace.
At least she was not likely to encounter him travelling along this road south. Elizabeth rubbed her aching back and paced; walking felt more comfortable than sitting. Another false pain pierced her, but she kept quiet to keep Charlotte from worrying. Lord Milton was another problem to be sorted, but for now she could only centre her thoughts on avoiding Darcy and getting to Meryton.
Truly, she was in too much discomfort to travel farther today. But it would be foolish to admit that to Charlotte, who was certain that pregnant women travelling a month within their time was a crime against decency. It was forgivable to walk around Pemberley’s gardens at eight months pregnant, but to be travelling was an affront to good manners.
“Do you not like the rooms?” Charlotte asked after the dinner things were removed. “You are scowling.”
Elizabeth stood from the table to walk the room again. “No, these are acceptable for the night, and a charming sitting room this is.” She would have to improve her spirits. She had only not wanted to stop and to pay for the room, but that was no reason to be unpleasant.
“I know you wanted to press on to Northampton, but you seemed tired.”
Charlotte was right, and Elizabeth had not the strength to argue with her. “I was a little fatigued on my arrival at this place, but a comfortable dinner has refreshed me.”
“We are close to Peterborough, you know. Have you considered going to Lord Milton? We could be there tomorrow afternoon, and he offered to keep you and your son. If you have a boy and it is his heir, he will want to provide for him and, by extension, you.”
“Absolutely not,” she cried. “He and his parents think I am of inferior birth and would resent any child of mine. I do not know why he made that offer to keep us, but I do not trust it and I do not want his help. My child stays with me.”
A pain hit her again; she gripped the chair back and breathed, stifling a cry.
“Was that another pain?” Charlotte asked in some alarm. “Eliza, how often do they come?”
Elizabeth shook her head as it passed. “The midwife said that labour pains are excited toward the conclusion and they could be true or false. These are false pains.”
“Are you certain? If you have been feeling them all day, they might be true pains.”
Fear seized her. They had been regular like the clock all afternoon, but she could not have the baby now. “No, it is too early! Forty weeks; she said forty weeks from conception—and I know very well that it was in Portsmouth.” She and her husband had no time together on the ship or the march. She must have been pregnant before they reached Cádiz.
“You may have miscounted,” Charlotte said.
“Even if I am off by a fortnight, it is still too early.”
Charlotte laughed. “Plenty of women bring forth perfectly formed and sized children before their full time.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “It is only thirty-six weeks. She said forty! These pains are false ones. They will settle, and we can get another sixty miles at least tomorrow.”
“How often do they come? Are they periodic intervals?” she pressed. “Twenty minutes?”
“Less than ten,” she admitted.
Charlotte’s shoulders fell. “Oh, Eliza. Your fatigue, the agitation of your mind, and now these pains being ten minutes apart are all cause to believe they are true pains.”
That struck her silent. Was it worth it to avoid Darcy and begin her new life if it meant having her child in a coaching inn? If she had the baby now, she could not travel again for weeks. And was she then to bring an infant on the stagecoach? How was she to pay for these rooms for a month ?
Amid these worrying thoughts, she realised Charlotte was at the door. “Where are you going? Are you angry with me? You think I should have stayed at Pemberley?”
Charlotte gave her a curious look. “I think you are foolish to travel so close to your time, but you were going to have a baby and wanted to be near your family. It makes sense, in some strange way, although I should not have indulged you. But we are here now and must make do.”
“But why are you leaving me?”
Charlotte put her arms around her. “I am not leaving you. I am going to ask the innkeeper about having a midwife attend to you.”
Elizabeth gave a little laugh and hugged her back. “Of course. That is sensible. I do not know why I flew into a panic.”
She let go, and Charlotte went to the door. “We need a midwife. I am only here to encourage and support you; I do not know what to do.”
Charlotte left, and Elizabeth heard her tread on the stairs get quieter and then disappear.
“Neither do I.”
October was not Darcy’s favourite time of year. The tawny leaves and withered hedges he noted on the drive north meant that the harvest was over and colder days and longer nights were upon them. However, after a month from home, he was ready to return to Pemberley. After visiting his sister at Ramsgate and seeing her happy there—and assuring himself that Wickham had not remained—he had visited the Bingleys again.
He had wanted time to learn to be indifferent to Elizabeth, but he had gone to the wrong place. There was so much domestic happiness in Bingley’s house, and Mrs Bingley was too like Elizabeth, and yet differing in striking inferiorities. And that only brought Elizabeth’s brilliance more to his mind.
He had stayed on, however, day after day, waiting until Georgiana’s visit to Ramsgate was at an end before returning to Pemberley. Elizabeth might, by now, be less embarrassed around him. Darcy wondered if absence might make her heart grow fonder for him. He had the good sense to know that she had more pressing matters on her heart and mind, but he was still selfish enough to hope that she had missed him.
He assumed that a month away from her would douse the fire she roused in his blood. All that happened was that he had no peace of mind and very little sleep.
“Fitzwilliam?” Georgiana cleared her throat and held out a hand for his help from the carriage.
Darcy started and helped her as she stepped down, and then he handed down Mrs Annesley. Both ladies grinned when they looked at the front door. It seemed they were all feeling that ease and comfort at long last returning home.
The moment he entered the hall, Mrs Reynolds appeared. She curtseyed and smiled on seeing him, but he knew in an instant from its tightness that something was the matter.
He stepped away from the bustle of footmen and trunks to reach her and asked quietly, “Good afternoon. I can tell by the look in your eye that there is news that cannot wait.”
“Welcome home, sir,” she said. “There is nothing wrong, but you should know that Mrs Fitzwilliam and Miss Lucas left.”
Darcy tilted his head, uncertain he had understood. “To go where?”
“Mrs Fitzwilliam only said that she had to leave, and she refused to wait for you to return and refused all help from us, save for a ride to the coaching inn.”
“She left?” he cried, attracting the attention of everyone in the hall. The footmen ducked their heads and continued up the stairs, but his sister and Mrs Annesley came near with concern across their faces. “Where? When did she leave?”
“Tuesday last, sir. She only told us of her intention to leave the night before and said nothing of where she was going. The groom who drove them said Mrs Fitzwilliam spoke of hoping to reach Northampton by the end of their first day. ”
He wondered if she was trying to go to Netherfield or Longbourn as his sister asked, “Where are Mrs Fitzwilliam and Miss Lucas?”
“She left,” he answered, his mind already passing over every possible thing that could go wrong with a pregnant woman with little money travelling alone.
“But she is due to have her baby in a few weeks,” Georgiana cried. “Why would she travel now, and when she knew we were about to return to Pemberley?”
Darcy shook his head and felt fixed in astonishment. It seemed like Elizabeth had fled Pemberley at a moment’s notice. Had she wanted to avoid him, or had the desire to have her child amongst her own family been too strong for good sense to overcome?
“Do not fret, Miss Darcy,” Mrs Annesley said, putting an arm around his sister. “The ladies returned home to Hertfordshire while we were away.”
“But Lizzy would have written to me if she planned to leave, or certainly after she arrived with her family.”
“They do not know she is coming,” Darcy said with alarm. “No one in Meryton expected them, certainly not Mrs Bingley. When I left Netherfield, no one had mentioned it.” He looked at Mrs Reynolds. “Have any letters from Hertfordshire arrived between last week and now?”
“No, sir.”
Darcy made no answer and walked up and down the hall in earnest meditation. Why did she leave? Had she arrived safely? Or had something happened, and she was now somewhere along the London road, penniless and forlorn? What if she was hurt? If she did not want to write to him, why had she not written to Georgiana to say that she was safe at Longbourn and found her family well?
Until he knew she was safe at home, he would not have an hour’s comfort.
“I must try to discover her,” he said. “First thing in the morning, I will trace back along the route to ensure she reached home safely.”
Mrs Annesley gave him a patient smile. “It is uncommon for women to travel alone, but Mrs Fitzwilliam can travel with her friend. Why do you not write to your friends in Hertfordshire? A little patience might serve you well.”
“She was my guest and under my protection, and now she is gone. I don’t know where in the world she is, and her family did not know to expect her.” He realised he had been speaking only of Elizabeth and grew conscious. “Mrs Fitzwilliam and Miss Lucas are missing, and I cannot sit at home and hope they are safe.”
“Why would she just leave and not even write?” Georgiana said, sounding on the verge of tears. “Something must be wrong.”
“My dear Miss Darcy,” said Mrs Annesley, “she may have simply forgotten to write to her friends once she got home. In a week, I am sure a letter will arrive.”
“But apparently she has already been gone for a week,” Darcy said, and Mrs Annesley had no answer. “She might need my help. If she was hoping to reach Northampton on her first day, I know what road she was on. The drivers and innkeepers are not likely to forget a heavily pregnant woman travelling with only a friend.”
Georgiana and Mrs Annesley averted their eyes at his speaking the word “pregnant” in mixed company. Darcy did not bother apologising. Impatience to be assured of Elizabeth’s having reached her home in safety pressed on him. He called instructions to his valet that he would soon be back on the road.
There was no way he could sit at home and wait for a letter to answer as to where she was and if she was safe, not when the need to find her now felt as though it were clawing its way out of his skin.