A Constant Love: A Pride & Prejudice Continuation, page 30
“Please do excuse me for a moment, Elizabeth,” Darcy said, and he let the horse move into a powerful canter and then finally a full-out gallop across the field. For Elizabeth, who had been working quite hard to get to the point where she felt comfortable controlling a sedate pony such as Buttercup, it was the clearest possible indicator of how very far her husband’s skill exceeded her own. Kestrel tore along the open space, and Darcy barely moved on the horse’s back as they swept across the field – it was easily the fastest she had ever seen a horse move, and she might have been concerned at the pace if anything in horse or rider showed the situation to be the slightest bit amiss. They did not, however; they seemed to be a well-paired team at the top of their skill, enjoying every aspect of the fresh air and spongy April turf.
They had galloped ahead some ways before Elizabeth realised that she was alone with Buttercup, and not at all concerned, and she urged the pony into a trot to follow them with the slightest little flick of her whip. It would have been some time before she caught up with them, but Darcy turned Kestrel back toward them, and returned at a pretty little canter, sitting tall and clearly in control of the horse as they approached.
Kestrel seemed to have energy without bounds, but he accepted walking along beside Buttercup, with the occasional trot in open spaces, once his initial desire to run had worn off. Elizabeth could not deny how nice it was to be up on horseback, alongside her husband, covering far more of Pemberley’s grounds than they ever would have on foot.
They made their way to the woods, along one of the bridle paths; somewhere distant Elizabeth could hear the stream trickling along its way to the front of the house, but the dominant sound was the clipping and clopping of the horses’s hooves as they made their way along. Elizabeth breathed deeply and turned with a contented smile toward her husband, which turned wry as she looked up at him, already taller than she, even without their comically mismatched mounts.
“We must look completely ridiculous, riding together,” she said. “Was that why you chose the path through the woods?”
“I cannot say that was my motivation,” he said, laughing. “But yes, over time we shall graduate you to taller mounts, and eventually find you a horse of your own. If you are comfortable cantering along for the rest of the path, I may show you my real reason for coming this way more quickly.”
Elizabeth did feel comfortable, and rode alongside him in eager anticipation, Darcy holding Kestrel at a trot, else he would easily have outpaced Buttercup’s stout little legs. They came to a point in the woods where an old stone wall bordered one side of the path, in a state of crumble, and then finally a little clearing. Elizabeth gasped when she saw the clearing, for ahead of her was a most romantic ruin, too real and too far gone to be a folly.
“Oh, I love it!” she exclaimed, bringing Buttercup down to a walk as they approached the corner of what once had been a large stone building. “Whatever was it?”
“It was the original house, at Pemberley,” he said. “From what I understand of the family records, it was meant to be kept up as a dower house, but fell into disrepair during the Civil War. It has been left to ruin since then.”
“We must come here again, with someone to hold the horses,” she said. “I should so enjoy exploring it more closely.”
“We certainly may. Edward and I passed many hours of our youth here; I daresay you will find some of our childhood toys strewn about,” he said, concern crossing his face at his mention of Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“The papers said his regiment made the crossing successfully – I am sure in Lady Ellen’s next letter she will have some better idea of how he does,” Elizabeth said, hoping to reassure him. War had, for her, always been such a disconnected thing from her life, with little more than the militia’s quartering at Meryton to affect her. Now, she knew so many whose lives she feared for – including her own, foolish sister – and she understood fully the constant wear Darcy and the Fitzwilliams must have undergone, in the last war.
“He never has time to write much,” Darcy said. “Wellesley always keeps his men busy, both with military duties and society, if there is any to be had. But you are right, he will write to Lady Ellen, at least. He would never have her angry at him, if he can help it.”
“I did not think Lady Ellen was capable of being angry.”
“Oh, but that is the thing of it. She never shows she is angry, which makes it all the worse,” he said. “When we would get into trouble as boys, our fathers would just take us round to the stable to be disciplined, but Lady Ellen would sit us down over milk and tea and say, ‘Now boys, I am very disappointed in you.’ It was the worst punishment imaginable.”
Elizabeth laughed at the thought of it, her husband and Colonel Fitzwilliam, being quietly chastised over tea by Lady Ellen. She would do the same for her nephew or niece, she thought; she would attempt to be that elegant aunt whose disappointment was far worse than anything their father could dole out. Which – knowing Charles Bingley’s temperament – was not likely to be much punishment at all.
Chapter 4
It was Sarah who first noticed Elizabeth was pregnant.
“Shall I prepare the blue riding habit for you to wear after you break your fast, ma’am?” she asked one morning, well before Jane’s planned appointment with Dr. Alderman.
“Yes, please do. It looks as though we have a clear morning, so I see no reason why Mr. Darcy and I will not go out today.”
“Indeed, ma’am, and you must get your riding in before the baby is too far along.”
“We still have some time before Jane will begin her confinement, although you are right, I will want to provide her company once it begins.”
“Oh, but I did not mean Mrs. Bingley’s baby – I meant your own bairn.”
“My bairn?” asked Elizabeth. “Sarah, whatever do you mean by that?”
“My lady, I do apologise – I should not have said anything. It is surely not in my place to say anything.”
For some time, Elizabeth and Sarah had shared a very comfortable relationship – Sarah was never one to overstep her bounds, and yet now she looked positively frightened for her job.
“Never mind that, Sarah – I do not understand what you mean.”
“Mrs. Darcy, I was the oldest of eleven brothers and sisters, and I can see you have all the signs – your stays don’t lace up quite so tight as they used to, and you sleep later, but you still seem so tired – and I beg my pardon for saying so, but you often look ill in the mornings.”
Elizabeth had been feeling a little ill in her stomach every morning, including this one, but she had attributed it to Pemberley’s cook using different spices than their cook back at Curzon Street, and she had been experimenting with skipping this dish or that during dinner, to see if she might discover which had offended her stomach. She had not thought there could be any other cause, and she turned and embraced a very surprised Sarah.
“You truly do think I am with child?”
“Yes ma’am. I’m no physician, but I did see my mamma have many of her babies,” Sarah said. “You should have confirmation soon enough, if you miss your courses.”
“I do not understand, though. Why now, after I have been married more than a year?”
“On the farm, sometimes we had good years, and sometimes we had lean years,” Sarah said. “My mamma never was with child in the lean years. She used to say her body knew when it was time to have a bairn, and when it was not. Forgive me for saying, ma’am, but London is not the healthiest place, and then you were so busy all the time you was there. Perhaps your body did not think it a healthy enough time for having a baby.”
Elizabeth’s legs were shaking; she sat down heavily, thinking on what Sarah had said. Could the thick air of the city and the stress of the season have been what prevented her from growing pregnant? After all, Jane had been at Netherfield for nearly half a year before she and Charles had come to town, and chaperoning Caroline was not the same as three very young ladies. And Darcy was right, she had grown very slight – she found much of the food in town too rich for her taste, and at many events had found her stomach tense, so that if she ate at all, it was sparingly. She had felt her weight returning to that which was more natural, now that they were at Pemberley, but would never have thought that some of it was caused by the beginnings of a child.
“Sarah, you have given me cause for hope when I thought all hope might be lost. Please speak not a word of this to anyone – I want to wait until I am certain. I could not bear to give false hope.”
“Of course not, ma’am.”
Elizabeth realised she was weeping, although with the deepest relief and happiness; she certainly could not go down to breakfast like this, and anyway, she had no appetite for it.
“Will you tell them I am feeling ill – a headache, perhaps – and will not be down to breakfast today?”
“Very well, ma’am.”
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Once her spirits had settled, Elizabeth found herself seized with a certain restlessness, and she realised she would have preferred to be in company, where conversation could serve as a distraction. Only time would confirm whether she was with child, and time seemed to pass most slowly in her bedchamber.
The quality of the room could not be faulted. Elizabeth had been impressed by the size of her bedchamber at Curzon Street, but this one was easily twice its size, so large that if the furniture had not been carefully arranged, it should have been an awkward space. This arrangement, she knew, had been Georgiana’s doing; her sister had also seen to the placement of a few more comfortable chairs from elsewhere in the house, for in addition to being outdated, the furniture was otherwise ostentatious, and uncomfortable. Elizabeth had been invited to redecorate this room, as well, by her husband, and thought it likely that this should be the first place where she would attempt such a thing.
The rest of the master’s and mistress’s apartment was much better-done. She and Darcy each had an impossibly large dressing room – even with all of the dresses from her wedding trousseau and the ones she had purchased since, Elizabeth thought her wardrobes could hold four times the number of dresses she currently possessed. There was even a small, private sitting room, between their two dressing rooms, and Elizabeth would have much preferred to pass her time there, rather than lying in bed.
As it turned out, however, Elizabeth could not claim illness without several concerned parties coming to her bedchamber, so that she had at least some manner of distraction. Darcy was first, knocking and entering slowly, so that Elizabeth had plenty of time to tuck the book she had taken to reading below her bedcovers.
“I was sorry to hear of your headache, my dear,” he said, looking at her with such concern that Elizabeth very nearly confessed to him that she did not have a headache at all, and what she hoped she did instead have. “What may we bring you for relief? Jane asked that we have the kitchen send up some willow bark tea. Is there anything else you would like?”
“That is good of her to think of it – willow bark tea often brings me relief. It is not a very bad headache; I believe I shall be better in a few hours. Thank you for checking on me, though.”
“Of course,” he said, leaning over to gently kiss her cheek.
There came a disruption, then; from outside the bedchamber, Elizabeth could hear Sarah say very loudly that she should take the tea in and attend to her mistress, followed by some manner of porcelain rattling. Sarah then entered, looking a little flustered and out of breath, carrying a tray with the tea.
“You are very devoted to Mrs. Darcy, Miss Kelly,” Darcy said to her. “I appreciate it very much, and am glad to see how well-deserved was your promotion.”
“I thank you kindly, sir,” Sarah said, making a curtsey and then setting down the tea on a distant table.
“Will you not bring the tea over?” Darcy asked. “I should like for Mrs. Darcy to gain its benefits as soon as possible.”
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Darcy, but it is much too hot to be drank right now,” Sarah said, her voice very tense, and Elizabeth thought she must be intimidated by the presence of Darcy, with whom Sarah rarely had reason to interact. “I shall bring it over when it is ready.”
“Very well, then,” Darcy said. “I will leave you to drink your tea and get some rest, Mrs. Darcy. You will have Miss Kelly tell us if there is anything else that can be provided to make you more comfortable?”
“I will. Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”
As soon as he had left the room, Sarah gasped and put her hand to her chest, looking exceedingly relieved, and breathing even more heavily.
“I ran all the way here, my lady. Mrs. Reynolds said they were sending up willow bark tea to you.”
“Yes – I have used it many times to bring relief, for a headache. I do not have one now, but I supposed I should drink it anyway, to keep with everyone thinking I was thus afflicted.”
“I beg you will not drink it, ma’am. It may just be a silly superstition, but nobody in our neighbourhood would let a woman with child drink willow bark tea after Mrs. O’Malley’s baby. She had the megrims, while she was in the family way, and she drank willow bark tea so very often, the first time she was with child. Her baby – oh I cannot speak of it, but it was terrible,” Sarah said, shuddering. “Please make my mind easier and do not drink it.”
“If you think I should not drink it, I will not drink it,” Elizabeth said. “You clearly have more experience with babies than I, and I would not risk this child – if it is indeed a child – for anything.”
“Oh, thank you, my lady,” Sarah said, looking most relieved. She waited until the tea had cooled a little, dumped it into a vase of flowers, then made her exit with the tray.
Elizabeth was glad that Jane did not come to check on her; she was not certain she could keep the secret from her sister, after having confessed her concerns of being barren, and in addition to that larger omission, she would certainly have to lie outright about having taken the tea.
Georgiana did, however, come in very hesitantly, asking as her brother had if there was anything else that might be brought for her. Elizabeth assured her there was not; with a little more rest, she should be better.
“I am so sorry, I should have let you rest!” Georgiana exclaimed, when given this excuse. “I will leave you now.”
“No, do not worry, stay a little while,” Elizabeth said, for in truth, Georgiana looked like the one who should be claiming illness, as she had to some degree ever since Captain Stanton’s departure. “I will sleep in a little while, but it has been some time since we have had a chance to really talk, and I wonder how you are feeling.”
After some time, Georgiana spoke, with tears in her eyes. “I miss him. I miss him more than I can say. It is not as though I saw him frequently, but now that I am deprived of all contact, I am always thinking of things I would like to tell him; I am wishing for just a few minutes in his company. And I worry for his safety, constantly.”
“Oh, Georgiana, I know it is not easy to wait,” Elizabeth said. “But wait for him, and if he truly is constant, he will return to you.”
“But I have no notion of whether he is constant, whether he has any reason to be constant. I have no notion of whether he loves me.”
“I find it very difficult to believe that he would pay so much attention to you if he did not love you. And if he loves you, he will not need a reason.”
Elizabeth could not bring herself to mention another possibility – that Captain Stanton did love her, but he would not return. There were certainly any number of men who had set off for the war who would not see England again – they would die on the continent, or on the oceans surrounding it, and there was every chance that one of their acquaintances would be among them.
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Elizabeth was more than ready for her feigned illness to be over, and she came down to dinner as usual, telling everyone that she was feeling much better. She had less enthusiasm for breakfast the following day, but did attend, requiring herself to eat a little so as not to cause her family any further concern. Darcy asked if she felt up to riding, and she told him she did; perhaps just a short ride today, but it would be nice to get out on horseback. They went out, therefore, Darcy on Kestrel and Elizabeth on Buttercup, making their way through one of the trails in the woods.
“We should wait until you are fully recovered,” Darcy said. “But I have been thinking it is time for you to graduate beyond Buttercup, to Georgiana’s old cob, Spartan. He will be a bit more of a challenge for you, but he is still quite manageable.”
Elizabeth felt fear clutch at her stomach – she trusted old Buttercup thoroughly, but she was not willing to trust what might be her unborn child to a new mount.
“I do not feel ready yet,” she said, tensely. “I should like to stay with Buttercup for a while.”
He looked at her strangely, and said, “Elizabeth, do you mind my asking, was there something that happened when you were younger that makes you distrust horses so?”
“My father’s groom was not so patient a teacher as you are,” she said. “I fell quite a few times, and the last time the horse’s hooves were so near to my head I could feel all the force they would have brought had they stepped on me.”
“Oh, my dear, I am sorry you had to suffer such an experience,” he said. “The groom started you on a full-sized horse?”
“We did not have the – variety of mounts – you keep here at Pemberley.”
“Of course,” he said. “I admit we likely would not, either, if not for Georgiana. She cannot bear to see them go, and it is not as though we cannot afford to keep them. And then I thought perhaps my – my niece or nephew might use them to learn. Or, as it turns out, my wife.”
