Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
With a cry, Elizabeth pushed herself into a seated position and looked about wildly until her breathing gradually slowed.
She rubbed her face, her hands growing wet from the tears that were present since the day the devastating news had arrived, even as more flowed down her cheeks.
She cried so much these days, it was hardly any effort; the tears leaked without ceasing.
On the other side of the bed, Jane struggled sleepily into an upright position. “Lizzy, what is it? Did you have a dream?”
Giving her eyes one last wipe, Elizabeth lay back on the pillows. “I suppose I did though, mercifully, I do not recall it.”
Jane pulled her sister into her arms and stroked her hair as she always had since girlhood. “You will be well again, I promise.”
“I do not know whether I want to be well again. My grief is an odd comfort. It makes him still feel real. The day I begin to recover is the day he slips away from me.”
“He will always be a part of you,” Jane disagreed gently. “Always in your heart. You also have your child to consider—a part of Henry that will go on.”
“I hope it is a boy.” A ghost of a smile crossed Elizabeth’s face. “And I pray he favours his father in every way. Is that absurd? I want to recreate my Henry in my son.”
“It is not unexpected. But your child will be Henry, and you as well.”
Just then, Elizabeth felt a small thud deep within her, proclaiming her child was awake and desirous of attention. “Jane, place your hands on me. The baby either agrees with me or is incensed by such notions.”
Jane placed her hands on Elizabeth’s abdomen and remained thus for several minutes, but the baby was still too small. Although Elizabeth could feel it, it was not yet ready to be known to others. Jane eventually took her hands away. “Will you sleep now, dearest?”
“I shall, though I beg your pardon in advance should my cries waken you again.”
“I shall not mind. ’Tis what I am here for: to provide you whatever comfort I am able.”
Elizabeth soon fell into a restless sleep as Jane lay awake, thinking of all that had transpired in the past months.
Elizabeth had gone to Bath in the winter with her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner.
Their aunt had suffered the loss of two pregnancies, leaving her weak, pale, and uncertain whether more children would be possible.
A midwife had urged her to take the waters in Bath, confident they would restore her health and her ability to bear more children.
The Gardiners had two daughters but yearned for a son who would one day inherit Mr Gardiner’s substantial business interests.
Jane had been shocked when, no more than a month after their departure, an express arrived saying Elizabeth was engaged to be married to a wealthy earl.
Mrs Bennet immediately became enraged that she had not permitted her brother and his wife to take Jane to Bath as well, but Jane could only delight in her sister’s good fortune.
Mrs Bennet had ceased her fretting when her sister, Mrs Philips, observed that Elizabeth marrying well could only be to the advantage of the other girls, and Jane was now certain to be married to a marquis or a duke.
(Mrs Philips did, after all, know well how her sister could best be soothed.) It was shortly thereafter that all were off to Towton Hall in London where Elizabeth was married to Lord Courtenay by special licence—the very home in which Jane now rested beside her sister in the mistress’s bedchamber.
The happy couple—for they were truly happy—had gone off to Italy for the summer, a holiday cut short by the announcement that Elizabeth believed she was increasing.
Lord Courtenay was delighted by the news, and he wished to bring his bride back to England at once, not taking any chances on the health and safety of his wife and heir.
Nearly as soon as they were back on English soil, Henry’s brother, Francis, a gentleman Elizabeth had met only at her wedding, requested Henry’s presence at their ancestral estate in Lancashire to deal with some matters that had arisen in his absence.
Her husband discouraged Elizabeth from accompanying him as, by this time, she was ill nearly every morning and frequently required an afternoon nap.
Henry had departed on what was usually a four-day journey, resolved he would make it in three.
Within five days, Elizabeth had an express from Francis saying her husband had failed to appear at Warrington Castle.
Shortly thereafter, another express informed her that Henry’s ransacked carriage had been located within ten miles of Crewe in the parish of Coppenhall.
Several days later, a third express notified her that the bodies of Henry, his coachman, and his valet had been found.
Jane would be eternally grateful that her late brother had insisted she and Aunt Gardiner stay with Elizabeth in his absence, for Elizabeth was nearly maddened with grief over the loss of her husband.
It was made worse by the fact that she could not see him.
By the time she knew of his death, more than a week had elapsed, and due to the heat of summer, a quick burial was required.
Mr Gardiner stepped in, assisting Elizabeth and corresponding with Mr Francis Warren, who oversaw all the details of having his brother laid to rest in the family plot at Warrington Castle.
With a sigh, Jane turned, seeking a more comfortable position in which to find sleep.
Something about the entire matter troubled her exceedingly.
She wondered whether knowing what had occurred caused her to recall Mr Francis Warren with suspicion.
She had known him only briefly, yet she had witnessed Francis looking at Henry several times with pure malice in his eyes.