Page 89 of A Most Beloved Sister
She entered the room to find Mrs. Pingree walking around the room, attempting to soothe a screaming infant. The woman looked up at Elizabeth. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here, Miss Bennet. I’ve got to get downstairs and get the boys started on their tour of the stables, but this new little one has taken up all my time. Would you mind going down and leading them out?”
“What if I take the baby instead?” Elizabeth said with a smile, speaking loudly over the cries and holding out her arms. “Between my sisters and my young cousins, I’ve soothed my fair share of infants. I can also recognize when a woman needs a break from the wailing!”
“Oh, bless you!”
Without waiting to be told twice, the desperate matron thrust the sobbing infant into Elizabeth’s arms and rushed out the door before Elizabeth could change her mind. Still chuckling, Elizabeth looked down at the tiny bundle and gasped. Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh my, I can see why you were left here. You poor little angel. I think that’s what I’ll call you: Angela.”
Having been volunteering at this home for several years now, Elizabeth knew that this baby probably would not live very long. Her face was extremely flat, with a small nose and eyes that slanted upwards. Even when she paused between wails to take a breath, her tongue remained protruding from her mouth. The neck was so short, it was almost nonexistent, and all these features told Elizabeth that the child most likely had a bad heart as well. Even now, she struggled for breath, her fingertips and lips tinged blue from lack of blood circulation.
In spite of this, however, the baby was still crying a sound so pitiful it made Elizabeth want to weep herself. Softly she sang a lullaby she had once heard her aunt Gardiner sing to her own children.
“Rock-a-bye baby, on the treetop,
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock.
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall,
And down will come baby, cradle and all.
Rock-a-bye baby, your cradle is green,
Father’s a King, and Mother’s a queen.
Sister’s a Lady, and wears a gold ring,
Brother’s a drummer, and plays for the king.
Rock-a-bye baby, way up on high,
Never mind, baby, Mother is nigh.
Up to the ceiling, down to the ground,
Rock-a-bye baby, up hill and down.”
∞∞∞
Darcy stood in the door and stared at the sight in front of him. He had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. When he left Hertfordshire, he thought he would never see Elizabeth Bennet again, and now here she was, cuddling an infant to her chest, singing a lullaby that had originated not three decades prior from his own home county of Derbyshire.
Is this a dream?
The soft clearing of a throat behind him brought him back to his senses, and he realized that the vision in front of him was, in fact, reality.
“If music be the food of love, sing on,” Dr. Carson whispered.
Darcy looked back and gave his friend a sharp look, which was returned with a smirk. Upon Darcy’s return to London a month prior, he had buried himself in business and estate matters in an attempt to forget his disastrous encounter with Elizabeth at Oakham Mount.
Carson, out of concern for both Darcy and Georgiana, had plied his friend with brandy after dinner one evening until the entire tale had been pulled from Darcy’s drunken lips. While sharing his woes did not entirely eliminate his heartbreak, Darcy was able to return to some sense of normalcy, much to Georgiana’s relief.
As the song ended, Darcy felt Carson shove him in the back—hard. It was all he could do to keep from losing his balance and sprawling on his face in front of Elizabeth’s feet. Instead, he took a few loud steps into the room, causing Elizabeth to spin around in alarm.
“Mr. Darcy!” she gasped, clutching the baby tightly to her chest.
Darcy’s eyes flickered down towards where the tiny bundle was snuggled; then he flushed and forced himself to look upwards. “Miss Bennet,” he said, fighting to manage a somewhat normal tone of voice. “I hope we did not startle you. You remember Dr. Carson, I trust?”
“Yes, of course,” she sputtered, her gaze still locked onto Darcy’s face. “What… what brings you here?”
“Mrs. Pingree sent a note early this morning about a new baby having been left here during the night. I imagine this is the child? She said it would need medical attention.”
