October had passed into November, the last of the Pemberley harvests reaped and marketed. The fields now lay tilled and bare. A light drizzle of rain had fallen last evening, leaving the ground moist with shallow puddles in places, but today was clear with the clouds lingering over the Peaks.
“If William were here he would predict the rains, whether they are gone for now or to return.” Lizzy spoke softly, gazing at the horizon.
Georgiana smiled, squeezing her sister's arm. “Yes, he always knows. It is a gift I do not possess. Of course, if he were here he would likely forbid you to walk, especially if he judges the rains to resume.”
Lizzy laughed. “True, although I think I would welcome his overprotective domination if it meant I could hear his voice.”
“He shall be home soon, Lizzy. He will not miss his birthday. He knows how important it is to you, and nothing will keep him away.”
“As desperately as I need him, I fear him overtaxing and becoming ill again.” She sighed loudly and shook her head. “Enough! He has begged me not to fret, to trust him, and I will. His letter yesterday said all was proceeding expeditiously.”
“Did he give any indication of when he would be home?”
“No, unfortunately. I think he is afraid to say much so as to not disappoint. In truth I do not expect him for another week, probably breezing in exhausted on the day before his birthday!”
“Why so long?”
“He had reckoned it would take two weeks at the least to conclude his affairs, and I think he was being generous at that so as not to increase my distress.” She smiled at his ever conscious desire to assuage. “He was ill for a week, if my figuring is correct, then the slow recovery. I can still discern a weakness in his handwriting and weariness in his words. I am sure he is not able to work up to his normal stamina.”
“Well, perhaps you are correct, and I suppose it best he take it slowly. Still, I know he will be here by his birthday! William always keeps his promises.”
The children jumped for joy, delighting in the treats and affection from Mrs. Darcy and Miss Darcy. The joyful, innocent presence of the children never failed to cheer Lizzy, the afternoon hours spent very happily with only fleeting thoughts of her husband intruding. Toward the end of their visit, as the clouds were gradually blowing back toward the valley, Lizzy felt the preliminary twinges of pain.
She held a newer arrival to the orphanage, a girl of three years, as she stood watching groups of children playing hopscotch and jumping rope. One minute everything was roses, Lizzy laughing at the antics and blissfully snuggling the soft body against her breast, when the familiar vague contractions were abruptly displaced by a sharp stab of pain lanced through her abdomen rippling from back to front and down to her groin. It resembled the innocuous false labor pains that Dr. Darcy assured were normal and necessary, but was far more intense. She gasped, bending involuntarily as she rubbed over her belly. It passed as swiftly as it came, Lizzy breathing deeply and almost convincing herself it was not significant when an identical pain struck. She released a squeal, doubling over and nearly dropping the little girl, who was clinging to her neck in fright.
“Mrs. Darcy? Are you well?” It was Miss Seymour, the orphanage director, inquiring as she rushed to rescue the child.
“No, I think I need to sit. Oh!”
Rapid activity ensued, Georgiana calling immediately for the nearest carriage. In short order Lizzy was home, George carrying her to her third-floor chamber in an amazingly strong grip for such a thin man. The pains continued at an irregular rhythm and intensity. Lizzy realized once the initial shock was past that the pains were not horrible, but definitely more severe than normal. It was the stress of what they signified that sent her into trembling sobs.
“Calm yourself, Elizabeth. Georgiana dear, hold her hand and speak soothingly. Elizabeth, I must be allowed to examine you. Relax, all will be well.”
His final sentence, uttered in Darcy's gentle tone, was more then she could handle. “George, I cannot… have this baby… now…”
“Well, he may very well have a differing plan, my dear, but we will not know until you settle down. This may be unpleasant and embarrassing, Elizabeth. I am sorry.” He kept a steady stream of placating murmuring as he performed the intimate examination, Lizzy far too distraught to be embarrassed.
“Listen carefully, niece. At this point there is no internal indication that your baby wishes to be born.” He laid his broad hands over her abdomen, palpating the intermittent muscle contractions. “The pains are not regular, which is a good thing. Mrs. Reynolds,” he said, turning to the housekeeper standing nearby, “ask Mrs. Langton to brew a large pot of very strong tea, dregs included, of red raspberry leaf and chaste tree leaf. She has the herbs as I supplied them prophylactically. Elizabeth, focus on me, dear.”
Lizzy was crying silently, enormous tears sliding down her cheeks, but she met his sympathetic blue eyes. “Listen, dear, very clearly to me.
“You can ascertain his size?” Lizzy asked with surprise.
“It is not an exact science, but one develops a sense for these things over time. I am an excellent diagnostician, if I say so myself, and not half bad as an obstetrician.” Lizzy could not prevent a tiny chuckle escaping, George smiling in return. “There, better, Elizabeth?” She nodded faintly. “Good. It is vital you remain calm. The tea I ordered may halt the contractions, but primarily you need to rest. My professional opinion is you have been given a fright and a warning. However, this could be a sign that you will not be waiting until December. Only time will reveal. In the meantime I am restricting you to your bed.”
Lizzy was weeping again, Georgiana smoothing the hair from her brow as Mrs. Reynolds entered the room. “George,” Lizzy whispered between soft sobs, “please, I cannot do this without William! I need him…”
“Shhhh… Be still. Say no more, Elizabeth, as I concur. Do not fear; I will send for him.”
Dr. Darcy's summons, conveyed by one of Pemberley's own groomsmen on the fastest horse available after Parsifal, finally reached Darcy after first being delivered to Darcy House and then the offices of Mr. Daniels before discovering the addressee busily working up a vigorous sweat at Angelo's Fencing Academy. It was the only recreation Darcy had engaged in during the weeks in London and the only reason he had broken from his self- proscribed strict business agenda for this excursion was a raging need for physical exercise.
However, moments prior to the message's delivery he was beginning to seriously doubt the wisdom of his actions. The symptoms from his illness were essentially gone with the exception of a nagging cough and persistent muscle fatigue. He stood in the center of the floor facing his current adversary, Lord Miles Holt, whom he had prevailed over each time in the past, wheezing and six points behind!
The interruption by the Academy's manager was abundantly welcomed by a frankly gasping Mr. Darcy, but followed by instant fresh sweat, this time of the cold variety, with the appearance of a Pemberley groom.
“Forgive me, gentlemen, for the disruption. Mr. Darcy, this man has a message for you.” The groom nervously stepped forward, bowing as he handed the sealed parchment to his Master. Darcy removed his protective glasses with a slightly tremulous hand, murmuring his pardons as he exited the room.
Darcy's heart constricted painfully, lips pressing together in a tight line. Not hesitating for a second, nor allowing the fear to overwhelm him, he jumped into action. The hasty and rude orders barked at Pemberley were courteous compared to the rampage he went on once at Darcy House. The effect was as he demanded, though. Within an hour the Darcy carriage was clomping away from Grosvenor Square toward Derbyshire. He refused to halt until well after dark, resting at a cheap carriage inn for six hours. He was again on the road as dawn broke over the eastern horizon.
