Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
Elizabeth had not known it was possible to feel so many emotions at once. She might laugh from happiness or cry from exhaustion, or feel excited and hopeful or frustrated and sad all within the same hour. She sat on her bed in the inn in Leicester, knees bent to support the tiny infant who was staring at her so intently.
“What are you thinking?” she whispered, stroking the baby’s fine, downy hair. “Are you wondering what Mamma will do? You need not worry about that, Edward. Mamma will take such good care of you.”
The baby yawned, and although she laughed at the size of the yawn from such a small creature, Elizabeth hoped he would soon fall asleep. If he slept, she could sleep. Her life for the past week had been a series of feed, comfort, sleep, and eat before beginning the process again.
Everything about bringing Edward into the world had been intense. Intense in its speed, its pain, its joy, and its sadness. She was so happy to have him here, early and small, but healthy. She had sobbed after he arrived, grieving that Fitzwilliam would never see his son. She could not regret having a boy, even knowing what Lord Milton intended. Edward was here, and he was perfect .
“I promise I will do whatever I must to keep you with me.”
The baby’s eyelids blinked heavily. He seemed to fight sleep, but Elizabeth felt as though they were falling into a routine now and knew he would succumb soon. She would have about three hours to eat something and sleep before the cycle began again.
The door to her chamber opened slowly and gently as Charlotte came in. “Is he asleep?” she whispered.
“Nearly.” Charlotte held out her arms, and Elizabeth handed him over for Charlotte to put into the makeshift cot next to the bed. “Thank you. You have been a dear friend to both of us.”
Charlotte smiled at the baby. “How could I not when you have such a handsome young man to hold?” Her expression grew more sombre when she turned her eyes back to Elizabeth. “Have you given any thought to what I said?”
Charlotte had been her greatest support in bringing Edward into the world, but in the days after, Elizabeth had felt a strain between them. Charlotte wanted her to write to her family for help, or reconsider Lord Milton’s terrible offer, and Elizabeth had refused. She begged Charlotte not to pass her news on to anyone, either.
“I am too weary in body and spirit to write to them. Besides, I would rather just bond with Edward and sleep as much as I can at present.”
Charlotte sighed heavily. “I had thought since more time has passed since you delivered Edward, you would write to your father about what has happened and where you are.”
“Oh, I will tell them all about the baby.” How could she explain wanting to gain more confidence about her role as a mother before writing half a dozen letters about Edward’s arrival and how she was doing? All she wanted now was to sleep and hold the baby. “Another week and I will be up to sitting at a table and putting all my thoughts in order.”
Her friend gave her a perplexed look. “But why do you now not want to go home?”
“I cannot travel comfortably for another month, at least.” It was a convenient excuse, but now that Edward was here, she did not want to go to Netherfield or Longbourn or even Meryton. Going back to Hertfordshire would make her feel like a child all over again, a child to be told what to do. Her mother and even Jane would fret and fuss and give advice. She was a mother now, and she had wanted an independent life; it was time to begin.
“Meanwhile, your family could send you money for better accommodations,” Charlotte suggested. “Or they could come themselves to arrange it all for you. Mr Bingley and your sister? Your father?” Elizabeth shook her head. She could manage on her own and did not need a man to do it for her. “If you do not want them, my father could even arrange it all when he comes to get me.”
She always knew Charlotte would not stay, but it was a blow. “You are leaving so soon?”
She held up an envelope. “As soon as I go to the post office. Eliza, I am writing to my father to retrieve me. This is not a suitable situation for a genteel woman, and I cannot afford to rent rooms in an inn for a month with you.”
Elizabeth took her hint that both were also true in her own case. She could not afford respectable housing, but that was no reason to go begging to her family. She had her pride, she had endured far worse, and she could do this on her own.
“I have thought of taking rooms in Leicester for a while, if that changes your mind.”
“How can you afford that in this wealthy city without help from your family? And you would not want to live with a baby in any place that you could afford with your pension. You have no nurse?—”
“I can feed Edward myself.”
“You do not even have a maid. You need help,” she emphasised. “And you have no money.”
“I have twenty pounds for the rest of the year.” Although it was rather less now since they had taken these rooms.
Charlotte could not keep her manner calm. “I cannot understand why you prefer this!” She looked round Elizabeth’s small bedchamber, and her gaze settled on the baby. In a quieter voice, she said, “It shows a conceited sort of independence on your part. You are a woman, alone, with no friends and little money. You have no husband. Come home with me.”
Elizabeth shook her head. After all she had been through, she needed to stay independent. “I thank you again and again for your support, and I know you care for my well-being, but I am not turning to Longbourn or Netherfield for help. I will make my own way.”
Charlotte huffed in frustration and snatched up her envelope, and left.
Elizabeth turned on her side, resting her head on her pillow, and looked down at Edward.
She had a charming image in her mind of Darcy holding him, and it might have brought her to tears if she were not so tired. It would do her no good to think about him. She wanted to be self-reliant, and she could not do that as Mrs Darcy.
Leicester was a clean, handsome town, but were it not for so great a thoroughfare and had it not so large a market, Darcy was sure it would be dull and wearisome. He had spoken to drivers along the coach route from Derby to Loughborough, and they all remembered the young pregnant woman from a week ago. She had purchased tickets for herself and Miss Lucas at a coaching inn in each city. However, she had not purchased seats on any stagecoach leaving from Leicester nor hired a post chaise.
He had traced her to Leicester, but not beyond. Unless she had met someone here to take her the rest of the way to wherever she was going, she had to be at the Three Crowns, the White Hart, or the Blue Bell. The thought that Elizabeth had been kidnapped or killed was too terrible to dwell on.
But he considered it.
As he crossed Welford Road to check the first of the three inns, he caught sight of a woman walking briskly toward the post office. Darcy noted her, kept walking, and then stopped to look again before jolting into action and nearly taking off at a run after her. “Miss Lucas!”
She started, and then relaxed as she recognised him.
“I ought to have known you would come after her,” she said. He noted how she said “her” and not “us.” “Perhaps you can talk sense into her.”
“Sense? What has sense anything to do with travelling in her condition, and without telling a soul where she was going? Is she safe?” He knew he was speaking with more feeling than politeness, but he could do nothing until he knew Elizabeth was well.
“She is in good health.”
Relief flooded through him, but impatience to see Elizabeth and return her to Pemberley replaced it. “Where is she? Have you been in Leicester this whole time? Why did you leave Pemberley?”
Miss Lucas opened her mouth but struggled to speak. He could not name the look on Miss Lucas’s face, but he knew it would take some time for her to explain it all.
He had to force himself to be calm and cool. They could not stand on the busy pavement to talk. “Walk with me, please? And explain it as best you can.” They went to the New Walk on the other side of Welford Road to walk the public promenade. Now that they had privacy in a quieter place, Miss Lucas seemed more at ease.
“Eliza is well, but she had the baby a week ago.”
“A week ago,” he repeated breathlessly, not believing it. “But that is too early.” All the fears he had previously held for Elizabeth’s safety were nothing to the fear he was experiencing now. Anxiety for the baby choked him so badly he could scarcely breathe.
“He is tiny. The midwife guessed not even six pounds, but he gives every appearance of being healthy.” Miss Lucas’s eyes softened. “He is truly a handsome little boy.”
“He is well?” he asked, hoping it was actually true.
Miss Lucas smiled. “Eliza asked that a dozen times after she delivered him. He eats, sleeps, and cries as much as any other infant. He is only rather small, no great surprise if he truly was three or four weeks before his time. ”
Only after this did Darcy realise the child was a boy, and all that meant. Fitzwilliam would have loved a little boy to get into scrapes with. And now his brother Lord Milton would go to the Court of Chancery to claim him. It was only a matter of when. Darcy had to find his cousin’s last will and testament for Elizabeth to have any chance of keeping custody. If Fitzwilliam even had the foresight to write one.
“How is Mrs Fitzwilliam? I suppose she is not yet ready for callers.” If she had remained at Pemberley, he would not be a formal caller, a mere visitor passing on well wishes. She would have been under his own roof and not in some inn sixty miles away. He would have been a friend, although he could not lie to himself and pretend he did not want more.
Time and distance and discipline had been insufficient in lessening the hold she had over his heart.
“She is not up to visitors, but I still think I should take you to her—if your being here means what I think it does.”
He looked askance at her, wondering what Elizabeth had confessed to her friend. “It means my guests fled while I was away from home and left no explanation and sent no word of their arrival anywhere. I had to be certain you both were safe.”
“Normally, I would never ask this, but Eliza greatly needs assistance.” Miss Lucas looked ahead as they continued along the pedestrian path. “Does your coming after her, and in such a hurried manner, mean that you hold her in some deep regard beyond friendship?”
Darcy’s heart beat unnaturally fast. He hardly wanted to admit to himself that Elizabeth refused him, that she would forsake their love in order to be alone. It still hurt that she could not trust in him.
“I will not pretend to deny my own attachment.”
“Your own?” Miss Lucas stopped walking and observed him. A shrewd look filled her eyes before disbelief replaced it. “You made her an offer of marriage, and she would not have you?”
He struggled for an answer that would not embarrass him or Elizabeth, and his silence answered for him .
Her mouth fell open before she stalked down the path again. “I cannot believe it! She refused you. Stupid, stupid girl. You could have solved everything for her!”
After being stunned by her anger for a moment, he caught up to Miss Lucas. “Did she say why she left Pemberley so close to her time?”
“She wanted to have her baby in Meryton, but now she has no desire to go there, either. I suspect she wanted to leave Pemberley before you returned. No wonder if she refused your proposal. What was she thinking?”
Was Elizabeth afraid he would press his suit? Was that why she fled? Or was it more likely she could no longer stand to be reliant on anyone?
“I am afraid she left because she did not want to depend on my generosity. All she has wanted since her husband died was the ability to provide for herself.”
“Since you followed her, you must not resent her for refusing you,” Miss Lucas said, looking at him to confirm her guess. “You can still convince her. Her situation is bleak. Now that she faces the real consequences of her choices—no money, no friends, a baby to feed, and a meagre existence—Eliza might accept you.”
“Desperation is a terrible reason to marry anyone.”
“You clearly know few poor women,” Miss Lucas said. “If you tell Eliza what you can provide for her, she might give a different answer. Especially now that Edward is here.”
“Edward?” he repeated.
“Named for her uncle Gardiner,” Miss Lucas said softly. “The only man in her family she could think of who has not disappointed her.”
The name made this little boy even more real to him. He was not an extension of Elizabeth or his cousin. Edward Fitzwilliam was a whole person, and one who might be taken from his mother. His cousin’s memory would haunt him forever if he let anything happen to his son, and that included him being raised by a selfish man like Lord Milton or leaving his mother in poverty.
“Come back to the Blue Bell with me,” Miss Lucas said. “She will see how much you care since you followed her, and she can put aside this nonsense about being independent.”
He had foolishly thought he could solve all of her problems, and all she wanted was the ability to do that for herself.
Was he going to rush in now to tell her what to do, offer to save her, tell her he knew what she needed? She did not want a rescuer. Did he not love her enough to respect her wishes? What kind of love did he have for her if he acted like that?
“I followed Mrs Fitzwilliam to make certain she was well and safe, and to help her. But she does not want my help.”
He had seen the casualty list after Barrosa—the newspaper was faster than Elizabeth’s letter by a few days—but her sad letter, her kind words about what his cousin had always said about him, had hit him harder than seeing his cousin’s name in newsprint. His family had been too preoccupied by their anger over Fitzwilliam’s marriage to share their grief with him. He had thought he and Elizabeth could share their grief at Pemberley this summer, but her wounds were of a completely different nature than his.
Everything she endured in Spain—alone, hungry, frightened—was dreadful enough, but to be forced to stay there by her father and her father-in-law’s inaction left her scarred and scared. And Fitzwilliam, rest his generous soul, may have neglected the most basic act of a husband in providing for his wife and child. Conservative investments and a will were all he had to do, but he had either procrastinated, forgotten, or chosen poorly.
A woman who had suffered as Elizabeth had suffered would not easily trust again.
“Mr Darcy, she may say she does not want your help,” Miss Lucas pleaded, “but she needs everything you have to offer.”
His sex, his wealth, his connexions all put him in a position of great power, but that was not what Elizabeth wanted.
He would continue writing for her to search for the will and seeing her through this difficulty with the activity and exertion of a fearless man and a determined friend. He would not do it to win her heart. The clerk’s widow yet lived, and so it was not impossible that she had her dead husband’s papers, which might include his cousin’s last will and testament.
He would find it so Elizabeth could keep Edward with her, but that was all he could do.
“She does not want me, Miss Lucas,” he repeated.
“Any woman in her situation would accept any respectable offer,” Miss Lucas cried. “She does not know what she wants.”
“I must beg your pardon to disagree with you.”
She must have heard the finality in his tone because she said, “Then poor Eliza has chosen a sad fate. Poverty and obscurity. I am returning to Meryton as soon as my father can retrieve me.”
It pierced his heart that Elizabeth would be left all alone in a city where she knew not a soul and had so little money. She could be taken advantage of, reduced to living in conditions hardly any better than she endured in Spain. He rapidly formed a plan.
“What is Mrs Fitzwilliam’s state of mind?”
Miss Lucas gave him a confused look. “I think she scarcely knows what day it is. She is surviving from one feeding to another, weary but happy.” She then flushed bright red. “Forgive me for speaking indelicately. Her state of mind is not as sharp as it typically is. She is fatigued and overwhelmed, as any poor widow without a single servant and with a new baby would be.” She shook her head to herself. “I cannot believe she chose that existence over being mistress of Pemberley. If you do not resent the past, why not press her to accept you?”
“She made her choice.” He loved her too well to presume she did not know her own mind, as her friend did. “All she wants is some power and control for herself.”
“She is a woman. She will never have those things.”
Elizabeth needed security, but she did not want to accomplish that through marriage. He could still give her that security.
“Would you wait to write to your father and stay with her through her confinement?”
That shrewd look entered her eyes again. “Why?”
“In three days, an attorney will arrive in Leicester looking for Mrs Fitzwilliam. If you walk this path at this time, you could pretend to stumble across him by accident. He will say he is from the Cattell and March bank in Portsmouth and that he traced Mrs Fitzwilliam from Pemberley. He will say he has recovered funds from her husband’s account after the bank failed.”
Miss Lucas brought a hand to her mouth. “That is five thousand pounds. She will have to accept you once she knows that you?—”
“You can never tell her,” he said sharply. “Never. She must never know the money came from me. If she is overwhelmed because of the baby, she might not think about how impossible it is that a failed bank restored any of its lost funds. You must encourage her in that belief.”
He would arrange it all. The five thousand pounds would be invested in the four per cents and settled entirely for her sole and separate use during her natural life, free from the control, debt, or engagements of any future husband—in case she changed her mind about marriage. Two hundred pounds a year would give her a vastly different life than only her pension. She would have to be prudent, but she would never need to deny herself or her son any necessity.
“Why would you do this for her?”
“Do you truly need me to answer that?” Miss Lucas shook her head. “Will you stay with her for another month?” She agreed, and Darcy added, “I will send the attorney with a small advance of the funds. Please help Mrs Fitzwilliam secure lodgings suitable for a widow with a child with an income of two hundred pounds a year.”
“Eliza could have so much more if she married you, or if she allowed Lord Milton to provide for her and raise her child.”
“She will have what she wants.”
“And so you will walk away from her?”
“Again, that is what she wants. And now she will have as much independence as I can grant her.”
“Do you intend to return to see her?”
Darcy hesitated. Of course he wanted to, but that would not be wise. If she was to believe the money had nothing to do with him, he had to pretend he did not know she was in Leicester until she told her friends of it herself. “If she ever needs me, I hope she knows she can depend on my assistance. But no, unless we are both in the home of her sister and my friend, I do not expect to see her again.”
They walked in silence back to the inn. Darcy stopped before he got too near, not wanting to be seen from whatever window was Elizabeth’s, and watched Miss Lucas go inside. He stared at the inn, hands clenched into fists at his sides, fighting that part of himself that was urging him to run inside and beg Elizabeth to come back with him.