9. Chapter 9
Heathstone Hall, Norfolk
9 September, 1823
Dear Elizabeth,
It is certain. Hayes is dying. His wound has festered and the doctor has said it will only be a matter of time before his body gives out completely.
My uncle is beside himself, and poor Richard is half mad. He will be the viscount when his brother passes, a role I am certain he never thought would be his. I am sure you remember how lost he was when Timothy died a few years ago. I cannot understand the pain of losing two elder brothers, but were Georgiana to be lost to me, I do not know what I would do with myself.
My aunt only leaves her rooms to sit with her son. She looks like a ghost, pale and thin. She has hardly eaten since the accident.
The girls seem well enough, though they have been asking for their father. Richard was visiting with them in the beginning, playing their usual games, but since Hayes’s turn for the worse, he has avoided everyone. Lady Alice has not left her husband’s side. I have only seen her thrice since I arrived, and I barely recognized her.
Death is lurking at the door.
How fare you and the children? Has Bennet’s cold gone away? Tell Elinor I will read her a story as soon as I return, but it may be some weeks now.
How is the babe? Is he kicking you overmuch? If it does turn out to be a boy as we suspect, I know we had discussed naming him for Richard, but what do you think of calling him Frederick? Freddie never had a son and he would not live to see it, but I like the idea of him being remembered in our family in such a way.
Kiss the children for me. And take care of yourself, Elizabeth. I cannot bear another accident.
All my love,
FD
Pemberley, Derbyshire
13 September, 1823
My Dear Husband,
I am so very sorry, my love. I have sent a letter to your aunt and Lady Alice as well, but I doubt they will read them. It is unimaginable to think of Lord Hayes not being alive. Chasing the children across the lawn, teasing his younger brothers, pulling faces at me when you turn your back. He was one of my favorite cousins by marriage, second only to the good colonel, and I shall miss him dearly.
I am sure you have done so already, but please convey my sincere apologies for not being present to sit with the family. At the size I am now, I would not even be able to climb into the carriage, let alone endure a long ride.
If you would like some news to cheer you slightly (I know you cannot be properly cheered and I would never attempt to do so), I am now so rotund that I cannot see my feet. I did not reach this size with the first two until nearly the eighth month. It is highly irregular for it to come about in the sixth month, but the midwife assures me this is not so unusual for a third confinement.
Bennet has recovered nicely from his cold and is riding his pony with his Uncle Bingley and cousin Charlie at the moment. Jane is nearly as ungainly as I am and we sit on reclined chairs, watching Bingley chase the children across the lawn while it’s still warm enough to be outside. I fear the weather will turn soon and we will have to set the children to playing in the ballroom.
Take as much time as you need, my dear. We are well here and Bingley is present should we need anything. I wish I was there to support you, but know you are in my thoughts and I pray for you each night, along with the entire Fitzwilliam family. Please tell me if there is anything I might do to assist the family from here. I would be happy to write letters or do anything necessary to assist Lady Matlock.
Sending you all my love,
Elizabeth
Heathstone Hall, Norfolk
18 September, 1823
Dear Elizabeth,
Hayes has died. The funeral is tomorrow and I will stay another few days to help where I may, then I will return to Pemberley. I need to hold you and the children and assure myself you are all well.
I love you, my dear. Kiss the children for me.
FD
Pemberley, Derbyshire
21 September, 1823
Dear Fitzwilliam,
I am so desperately sorry, my love. I wish there was something I could do to comfort your heart. I will write separately to the Fitzwilliam family, but if you know of anything we may do for their comfort, do tell me.
After the birth, I think we should invite Lady Alice to visit with the children. It might be good for her to have a change of scenery, and you look nothing like her husband. Lord Hayes and Richard looked so similar it may be difficult to be near him for a time. If you approve of the notion, I will mention it in my letter to her.
I am so sorry for your loss, my dear. So very, very sorry. We shall see you soon.
Your wife,
Elizabeth
Pemberley, Derbyshire
25 November, 1823
Dear Fitzwilliam,
I am sending this letter with young David and have instructed him to put it in no one’s hands but your own. Pack your bags, my love. You are needed at home. My pains began early this morning. Once I realized what was happening, I sent for the midwife and then a messenger. If you leave immediately, you are likely to make it home before your son makes his appearance.
I know it is a month before we expected it, but I feel strong and the babe is obviously large. Perhaps we miscalculated?
Come directly to me when you arrive. I have need of you.
Kiss Georgie for me and please tell her we really must cease having babes at the same time. People will start to suspect a plot of some kind.
Your Elizabeth
Pemberley, Derbyshire
26 November, 1823
My Dearest Love,
Thank you for sending for me. I would not have liked to miss yet another birth. I am so very proud of you, my dear. Once again, you have amazed me. You truly are a wonder! Little Frederick is perfect, though I do not understand where he came by his red hair. Though Jane and Catherine have each had a red-haired child, so I suppose it is in your family somewhere.
That our perfect son was followed by his equally perfect brother Richard is the greatest surprise of my life. I shall write to my cousin directly and tell him to come meet his namesake and his godsons. He will be more than a little shocked, I am sure. I hope that seeing Frederick and Richard together in this new generation will give his heart a measure of peace.
I knew your grandmother had had twins, but I had never thought we would have them. I wonder if any of your sisters will do the same? Two of them are now with child—would it not be interesting were one of them to be carrying twins as well?
I shall cease speculating and return to watching our babes sleep. They seem so peaceful, do they not?
Thank you for such a precious gift, my love. You have made me deeply happy.
Your Husband,
Fitzwilliam Darcy