Page 50 of Leave Her Wild
“It was ten minutes for more than two hours,” his wife explained.
“Quite a drop from the previous time,” Mr. Bennet observed. “You might wish to send a servant for the midwife. Inform the woman of the decrease in time between the contractions,” he told Darcy.
“Hannah!”
“Yes, sir. I shall return quickly,” the maid darted away.
“Let us walk, Lizzy,” Mr. Bennet ordered as he kissed his daughter’s forehead. Though his wife sagged heavily against Darcy, she clung tightly to her father’s hand.
“You came early,” Elizabeth said in breathy puffs of air.
“I had news I wished to share with you and Mary,” Mr. Bennet admitted, “and it was not something to place in a letter. I have already spoken to Jane, but you know how your sister is. She never has an honest opinion, at least, not one she is willing to share with others.”
Darcy would agree: He had escaped a life of boredom. Even so, he smartly did not remark.
“Jane . . . never wishes . . . to offend another,” Elizabeth said as she stepped heavily along the carpeted hallway.
Mr. Bennet replied in the man’s typical wry manner, “I know great pleasure in thinking Jane and Mr. Bingley will forever be happily settled. They will do very well together. Their tempers are by no means unalike. They are each so compliant that nothing will ever be resolved, so easy every servant will cheat them, and so generous they will always exceed their income.”
Darcy wished to laugh, but he swallowed his mirth. Instead, he said, “You are always welcomed at Pemberley, sir, but you did not explain your early arrival.”
“I was hoping you and the Erickses might return to Hertfordshire after Michaelmas this year, for I have accepted the advice all of you have so generously offered upon multiple occasions. Why should I spend my days alone simply because your mother fears her own future? I have called upon the Widow Jackson several times. Though she does not approve of how I have come to the state of again being an eligible bachelor, she has accepted the offer of my hand in marriage. She is but four and thirty and has two sons, one age ten and the other nearly twelve.
“She will be presented with the position of mistress of Longbourn and her children from Marcus Jackson will receive a home, rather than the let rooms in the village, while I will be gifted the opportunity to cut off Mr. Collins’s rights to Longbourn by producing a son with the lady. If I can bring her to child, she might live out her days at Longbourn. I have offered to send Jackson’s boys to Harrow and Cambridge, an opportunity they would never know in the lady’s current circumstances.”
They had been taking slow steps during this conversation and again turned for another pass. Darcy was thankful for Mr. Bennet’s obviously purposeful distraction of Elizabeth’s pain.
“What changed your mind, Papa?” Elizabeth asked.
“You have all reasoned quite eloquently on how my life is not over,” her father declared. He paused to look down on Elizabeth. “A fortnight ago, I received a letter from Mrs. Bennet’s solicitor in Scotland. Frances and Lydia have decided to travel to America. They believe Lydia is with child.”
“Oh, Papa, how terrible for you,” Elizabeth said as she reached to embrace her father. “I know this would never have been your choice.”
“I believe you shall like Melonia Jackson,” her father said rather than to comment on his true thoughts of Mrs. Bennet’s actions. “She is quite practical and very learned. She was most excited by the extent of my library, and her boys wish to know more of the livestock on the estate.”
“You will finally be able to share all your ideas to improve Longbourn with your sons,” Darcy assured.
Another pain caught Elizabeth by surprise, and she clutched both men’s hands tightly. “Time, Papa?”
Mr. Bennet checked his watch again. “Just a few ticks of the hands longer than six minutes.”
“We must keep walking to at least five-minute intervals,” Elizabeth explained in weak tones, and they again began their labored stroll of the length of Pemberley’s passageway and back.
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Once they reached the remarkable five-minute intervals, Darcy took the process into his hands. Elizabeth was sagging against him in near exhaustion and her energy drained with each minute she was on her feet. Therefore, he ignored her protests and carried her to her quarters.
During those first few hours, Darcy stayed at her side, praising her strength and willfulness and absolute kindness until the midwife arrived and ordered him from the room. “I will not be far. You may depend on me,” he repeated once more as hestood to leave. However, as he left the room, he told the midwife, “If a choice must be made between the two, save my wife.”
Darcy had initially thought to wait outside the door of Elizabeth’s quarters. Instead, he chose to wait in his quarters—in the small dressing room and upon the cot that Sheffield occasionally employed if Darcy was late returning to the estate. He sat on the thin mattress on the cot, alone, except for the dog, which had originally followed Mr. Bennet downstairs, but had quickly returned when it heard Elizabeth’s screams. Now, the dog whimpered in concern and watched the door between Darcy and his beloved wife.
Mr. Bennet reported that he would take the gig into Lambton to fetch Ericks and Mary. They were all supposedly waiting below. Darcy knew he should have been more social, but he could not be further than a few feet from Elizabeth as long as she screamed out in such pain. Therefore, he remained upon the cot and continued to pray, while, with a worried expression, the dog continued to watch the door.
Darcy studied the seconds ticking away on his pocket watch until, at last, Elizabeth’s cries were so close together, they were nearly on top of one another.
“There you are,” Ericks said from a place within Darcy’s quarters. “I thought perhaps you might require a prayer or two.”
“It is Elizabeth who suffers,” Darcy argued. “Sitting in a cramped dressing room is nothing in comparison to which to complain. I wish the pain belonged to me.”
