Chapter 21 #2
They nodded, and the three made their way up the stairs once again. Elizabeth entered ahead of the others and returned to take her sister’s hand and wipe her brow with the cool cloth.
“Lizzy,” she whispered, struggling to speak.
“I am so sorry. I was cruel to both you and Mr. Darcy. I hope, sir,” she said, looking toward him standing by the door, “that you can forgive me for my foolishness someday. I … I was stupid and jealous and … allowed myself to be used to hurt others because I was not strong enough to tell the truth.” Her voice trailed off as she spoke until it could barely be heard at the door.
William looked at her lying there on the bed, looking so weak and pale. He agreed to her request and walked forward to stand by Elizabeth’s side and place his hand on her lower back in support. Finally, he responded, “We forgive you, Jane.”
Bingley went to stand on the other side of Jane and leaned down to press a kiss on her forehead.
She looked up at him and spoke once more.
“I do love you, Charles. Forgive me for my stupidity and my lack of faith in you. I wish I would have been honest with you from the beginning. You should not blame yourself for any of this.”
“I loved you as well, Jane. Forgive me for my lack of faith in you,” he whispered, pushing her hair back from her forehead. “I am so sorry,” Elizabeth noted the tears in his eyes and knew he would mourn for his wife and his marriage. He would always regret what his marriage could have been.
The three continued to stand there as Jane drew several more shuddering breaths. The breaths first slowed and then stopped altogether. Elizabeth turned into William’s chest and sobbed while Bingley sat heavily on the bed next to his wife. “My dear Jane,” she heard him say as he caressed her cheek.
Jane’s body was taken to Meryton and buried in the cemetery at the Longbourn church.
Elizabeth and William travelled to Netherfield for the funeral, breaking the promise never to return, although they stayed only briefly.
Georgiana and Mary travelled with them, and they were all to return to Pemberley soon after.
At the funeral, Darcy received Mr. Bennet’s written permission to care for Mary for as long as he was willing and to approve marriage or whatever else may be necessary before she came of age.
Mr. Bennet was enjoying his peace, having little to do at Longbourn with his family gone.
The house ran itself with Mrs. Hill in charge, and there was little for him to concern himself with other than his books, a circumstance that pleased him greatly.
The Gardiners also came to Netherfield for Jane’s funeral, bringing Kitty.
When Kitty arrived at Netherfield and found Elizabeth there, she apologised to her sister for believing the stories about her and her husband.
While staying in London, Mrs. Gardiner had spoken to Kitty seriously and directly several times, until finally, Kitty understood all that had transpired over the last several months, including Lydia’s indiscretions and banishment to Ireland and how the rumours around Meryton had been quashed by Mr. Darcy’s diligence in caring for what Wickham had done in his name.
It had taken many conversations, but finally, Kitty had seemed to understand a little better.
Kitty was to remain in London with the Gardiners for some time.
Mr. Gardiner received the same permission for her as Darcy had for Mary.
Mrs. Gardiner believed that with some attention and effort, Kitty could learn how to behave in public and how to be less ‘silly and ignorant’ as her father liked to claim.
Nearly a fortnight after Jane’s death, the Darcys and Mary reached Pemberley.
Mary was amazed at the house and the park, but Georgiana delighted in having a friend to share it all with.
This was also a boon to William and Elizabeth since the girls could distract each other, allowing them to spend more time alone.
The months following their return were busy.
Not long after they arrived, the spring planting came, which meant William spent many hours overseeing the efforts of his tenants and those working at the home farm.
New livestock was born, and frequently, William took Elizabeth out in a phaeton to see the new life flourishing all around the estate.
Often, on these trips, they took a picnic and a blanket, and one spot, in particular, became a favourite.
It was hidden from prying eyes and allowed them privacy for whatever activities they sought.
As summer came, Elizabeth’s stomach grew larger and larger until she felt she could barely waddle. The heat was the worst, and she spent more and more time in their bedchamber, dressed only in a shift or a chemise.
It was early one morning in June when Elizabeth felt an ache unlike what she had experienced before.
For the last several weeks, she had felt labour pains, but the midwife had assured her they were false pains and told her she would know the real thing when it happened.
This pain gripped her entire body as she tensed for long moments before it finally released.
She stood and attempted to walk around the bedroom, but before she took too many steps from the bed, her husband stood beside her.
“What is it, love?” he asked urgently. “Are you well?”
“I think it is time, Will,” she said as another pain gripped her. She squeezed his hand tightly as he held onto her waist carefully. His hand positioned around her waist, and he could feel her stomach tense beneath his.
“Let me help you back to bed,” he said.
“No,” she protested. “I need to walk. The midwife said this will help make labour easier.”
“Fine,” he nearly growled. “But we are walking to the bell pull first. While I want to be with you when the baby is born, I do not want you to be here alone.”
It took several minutes and one more pain before they reached the cord. He pulled it twice, just to be certain, and within a few minutes, several people had arrived in the room: his valet, her maid, Mrs. Reynolds, and two or three other maids and a footman.
The footman was promptly dispatched to Lambton to bring the midwife and the doctor to Pemberley.
The valet helped William to dress in more appropriate clothing for the visitors they expected, while Elizabeth’s maid stayed with her and helped her walk around the bedroom and sitting room.
Mrs. Reynolds directed the maids to prepare the birthing room, bring hot water and towels, and anything else that might be required.
William returned quickly and took up his post to help Elizabeth walk the room as others rushed around.
The pains came around every five minutes when Elizabeth felt a sudden gush of water at her feet.
She cried out, causing William to be concerned, but Mrs. Reynolds indicated that was a sign she needed to go into the birthing room.
Her gown was changed quickly, and soon after, the midwife arrived.
She checked Elizabeth over and tried to push William out of the room, but he was having none of it.
Elizabeth cried out in pain once again, and the midwife directed William to place Elizabeth in the birthing chair, as the baby’s head was already in evidence.
“Mrs. Darcy,” she told her, “The next time you feel a pain, you must push. Mr. Darcy, if you swoon, I cannot pick you up, but if you can stand it, continue as you are. Hold your wife’s hand, and in between her pains, massage her back.”
Elizabeth pushed through the next pain and the next.
Finally, a final push and she felt relief, and she saw the midwife rub the back of the newborn as he struggled to take a breath.
Almost immediately, she heard the lusty cry of her son, and after rubbing him off and cutting the cord, he was wrapped in a blanket and placed into her arms.
“William,” she breathed, looking up at the man she adored.
“We have a son.” They both stared down at him as the midwife helped Elizabeth pass the afterbirth.
Elizabeth handed the baby to a maid for a quick bath as Elizabeth was cleaned up and redressed.
It was just a few minutes more when the three Darcys moved into the mistress’s chambers and settled onto the bed.
Elizabeth leaned against her husband, his arms around her as he helped her hold their son as he ate.
“What shall we name him?” he asked her. “Bennet, to continue the tradition? It would be for you, not for your family, but because you are the strongest person I know.”
“No, I do not want to name a baby after any part of my father. After casting off his entire family, he does not deserve any such honour,” she insisted. “I like William, though. I would like to honour the best man I know.”
He considered it. “Do you really think that?” he asked.
“Yes, William, you are a wonderful husband and father to Georgiana and Mary. You will be a wonderful father to our son and whatever other children we have,” Elizabeth told him lovingly as they watched their son.
“William Charles,” he suggested.
She smiled. “I like that,” she replied. “We will need to write to him to let him know.”
He nodded, squeezing her slightly before kissing the tear from her eye. “Thank you, dearest, for my son.”