clinging to him, and no other words were exchanged. He lay awake for long hours afterwards, his own tears silently shed, thinking furiously and questioning without any answers forthcoming.
The two weeks that followed were terrible beyond the initial weeks fretting over Michael. The baby flourished under the diligent ministrations of devoted parents, loving nannies, and spellbound brother. He was temperamental, as they were coming to expect was his natural disposition, but also jolly and extremely healthy. Any cause for sincere anxiety as to his wellbeing was nonexistent.
Yet Lizzy refused to concede.
Darcy watched his wife immerse herself in the children and the Manor to a greater degree than prior. From sunrise to well after sunset she was constantly on the move. Suddenly, Alexander’s birthday and Christmas became vitally important to prepare for, although she never mentioned their anniversary. Darcy was wounded and the gulf widened as her preoccupation prevented her from sparing him any time.
The fragile claim on her health wavered further as she gradually lost the weight she had regained. She was clearly exhausted: pale and tremulous. Her emotions continued to fluctuate crazily, outbursts of tears and ire randomly occurring with no apparent cause, but primarily she seemed to sink into a daze of gloom.
Nothing Darcy said or did reached through to her, although he persisted in trying. Any overtures for affection were spurned, vigorously. Attempts to discuss their anniversary were ignored. It was as if he were invisible.
Alexander’s second birthday was celebrated with an elaborate party. Dozens of Derbyshire friends partook of the fun, their children the honored guests as playmates to Alexander. Lizzy was a buzzing bee in her desire to provide for her guests and her son. At times, her behavior crossed into frenetic with shrill laughter and addled sentences. Every last person noted her altered appearance and fragility with concern.
Yet somehow she managed to hold herself together until it was over. Visibly shaking, she bid her last good- bye to Harriet Vernor, sagging against the door as soon as it was closed. Darcy reached for her, but she snapped at him and pushed him away. He watched helplessly as she climbed the stairs.
“Dearest, you need to come to bed.” Darcy pleaded that night, entering the nursery where Lizzy sat beside the cradle.
“I want to make sure he is asleep,” she countered, eyes centered on the slumbering Michael.
“He is asleep. As is Alexander. I read with him until he fell asleep. I barely managed to read one sentence without him interrupting to talk about his party. His enthusiasm is as intense as yesterday and he will likely be up at the crack of dawn to play with all his new toys. Poor Miss Lisa.” He chuckled, vainly attempting to lighten the mood. “Maybe it is just as well I have no business plans tomorrow so I can devote some time to manning the castle with the new set of tin Spartans and Mongols. He would not rest until he testing the catapults for himself.” He laughed again, sincerely this time as the thrill of this birthday with his son displaced the melancholy. “I confess I am as anxious as Alexander. Sharing the joys of presents with a child is superior to anything I can imagine. Goodness knows he has enough gifts to keep us occupied for hours!”
He paused, realizing that Lizzy was not listening. She stared at Michael, no expression on her face, eyes dulled and drooping. Darcy’s insides clenched painful, as they always did when he encountered her obvious affliction and decline, but lately he had noticed other emotions rising: anger, frustration, impatience, and, most frightening of all, a horrid sense of detachment and grief, as if something precious had died.
He sighed, closing his eyes briefly and offering a silent prayer. “Come, Elizabeth, take my hand.”
She did, listlessly rising and walking to his side. She stood by the bed complacently as he removed her robe, strong hands stroking over the silky skin of her arms. He cupped her face, lifting it to meet his eyes. “Please, beloved, tell me what is troubling you? I am so worried for you.” His soft voice, brimming with concerned agony, brought tears to her eyes.
“I do not know,” she whispered. “I am so tired… all the time tired.”
“I keep encouraging you to rest, do I not? You must not push yourself so, my heart. Relinquish the chores to Mrs. Hanford and others. Let us help you! Please, Elizabeth, heed my advice.”
In an instant her eyes were angry. “Oh yes! Mr. Darcy who knows what is best for everyone! Must you control the entire world, William? Tell everyone what to do?”
Darcy paled, stepping back a pace in utter shock. But Lizzy followed, her face enraged, finger stabbing him in the breastbone. “I do not need you to tell me how to be a mother! I am a
Her voice was shrill and body shaking as her eyes welled with angry tears. It was her wildest outburst yet and Darcy had never felt so cold.
“Elizabeth Darcy, listen to me.” He spoke in his authoritative voice, normally more than adequate to quell any adversary. “You are irrational and raving. Calm yourself and let me help you. Try to be reasonable!”
But his words were cut short by a stunning slap to his left cheek. He gasped, recoiling as his hand rose to cover the sting. It was not so much the pain, although his wife did have a strong arm, but the mind-numbing astonishment of what she had done.
Lizzy instantaneously crumbled in remorse. Hands covered her mouth as an anguished moan escaped. “Oh God! William, please forgive…”
“I shall be in my study if the children have need of me,” he icily intoned, eyes dead as he pivoted and left the room, slamming the door behind.
Lizzy stood paralyzed for a long time, eventually releasing a wail of sheer animal intensity, her heart breaking asunder as the world spun and swirled. She whirled about, frantic for anything to relieve the twisted emotions ripping through her mind. Lunging toward the balcony, she only thought of escape and punishment for the sufferings caused by her words and deeds.
She halted abruptly at the railing, wheezing and crying. She grabbed onto the freezing stone in a white knuckled grip, staring at the cobbled stones of the walkway far below. Oblivion from the pain called, but some small kernel of sanity beckoned. Perhaps it was the frigid cold restoring a hint of clarity. Perhaps it was a guardian angel stopping her steps. Whatever the case, she fell to her knees, sobbing until there were no tears remaining, only then finding the strength to stumble to the lonely, cold bed.
Chapter Six
Alexander, in the innocence and unawareness of a two-year-old, was oblivious to the tension and chasm between his parents. George was more observant and he was shaken to the core by what he witnessed.
For the month of November, and much of October, he had been busy attending to his duties at the Matlock hospital and throughout the surrounding communities. It was the time of year for influenza and injuries sustained from the cold weather or wet conditions. Several days in a row would pass before he returned to the Manor, often for no longer than it took to bathe and sleep a day before leaving again.
His intermittent interactions when able to relax at home had hinted to a strain between the two, but he had thought it no more than what would be expected with two young children, one who was quite demanding. Darcy’s natural reticence and intense urge for privacy did not always foster blunt communication, even as close as they now were. There were many topics Darcy did not hesitate to discuss with his uncle, but his marriage, which he perceived as sacred and solely his responsibility to deal with, was not one of them. George respected this, and aside from the gentle teasing that brought him such pleasure as Darcy persisted in flushing and stammering when the playful topics were tendered, he avoided broaching anything too intimate. Of course, until now there had been no need, since his niece and nephew appeared to possess a relationship uncommon in its intensity and felicity.
Thus, due to his busy schedule and faith in their relationship, George had remained ignorant as to the seriousness of Lizzy’s status. A catastrophe in Chesterfield calling for emergency assistance had kept him away for Alexander’s birthday and the week following. Upon his return to Pemberley, the exhausted physician was flabbergasted by what he discovered.
Without hesitation, Dr. Darcy decided to take action, even at the risk of offending his proud nephew. However, he first dealt with Lizzy. Her predicament was at a critical level and needed direct, immediate intervention.
