Page 30 of Heiress of Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variations)
Kympton
17 th January, 1812
Dearest Jane,
I am so glad that you and Charles are happy together, not that I had any doubt about the matter. You are both such congenial, joyful people; how could your marriage not be happy as well?
Regarding my position as heiress of Longbourn, I am pleased that Father told you all the truth and only wish he had told everyone sooner, including me! I am aware that Mamma will wish for me to stay single, but I am a determined soul and will do what I think will bring me the most happiness. Given the shortage of eligible young men in my vicinity, Mamma and I may well be united in what will bring about our mutual happiness, although if I am single when Papa dies, which I pray is many, many years away, she will find that I am more firm in the oversight of Longbourn than our father has been. In any case, with two of my sisters now well married and Longbourn in reasonably good heart, I have no reason to hunt diligently for a husband, even though I quite like the idea of finding an agreeable match, as your enthusiasm for your marriage is contagious.
I miss you very much, Jane, but I am content here at Kympton. Our new brother by marriage is a wonderful, kindly man, and he is a good husband to Lydia. Regarding our youngest sister, she is still exceptionally lively, but is doing her best to behave in a reasonable way.
Elizabeth laid down her pen and looked outside her window where the brick church stood some five hundred feet away. She was impressed with Lydia’s changes, but she knew that was due to Alexander, who took the time to spend an hour a day with his young wife talking about money and duties and behavior and the like. Lydia was thriving under such attention, though she still occasionally sulked when her new husband limited her spending.
Alexander had paid for some new dresses for his wife and allowed for the purchase of a few trinkets, but this had always been in response to specific actions on Lydia’s part. She had, with Elizabeth, visited a few of the tenant families of Pemberley who attended the Kympton church, and she was now spending half an hour a day, also with Elizabeth, speaking to Mrs. Hayward about learning to run the household.
Lydia was not a stupid girl, and Elizabeth was hopeful that under the kind but firm direction of Alexander Wickham, their marriage would be a successful one in spite of its difficult beginnings. She dipped her pen in ink again and continued her letter to Jane.
Kympton is a lovely little village and prosperous, thanks to its location near Pemberley. It is smaller than nearby Lambton, where our Aunt Gardiner grew up, and it does not have a market, but Pemberley is so vast that its wealth is able to support more than one village. I…
The door opened at this juncture, and Elizabeth looked up with a frown to observe Lydia hovering in the door frame, her expression uneasy. “Lydia? Are you well?”
Her sister stared at her, and now Elizabeth could see that her eyes were shiny.
“Come in, my dear,” she said, setting her pen down and rising to her feet. “Come in and tell me what is wrong.”
Lydia stepped within, pushed the door behind her, and then slowly walked over to the window to stare outside at the church.
“Lydia?” Elizabeth repeated, now concerned. “Whatever is the matter?”
Lydia bit her lip and then turned toward her, her pretty face flushed with distress. “Lizzy, my courses are late.”
It took a moment for Elizabeth to grasp what her sister was saying, and when she did, she felt as if she had been kicked in the chest.
She forced herself to breathe deeply, in and out, in and out, and in and out again, and then she moved forward and guided her sister to the small loveseat next to the fire. She pushed Lydia down gently, and then sat down next to her, and said, “How late, my dear?”
Tears fell down Lydia’s cheeks, and she said, rather shakily, “At least two weeks. I was not really paying that close attention, but I remember at the end of November, I … well, anyway. Oh Lizzy, surely I cannot be with child? I only … that one night … with George … that was the only night that I, erm, was intimate with a man.”
This was news to her elder sister, who realized that Alexander had decided not to take advantage of his rights as a husband, perhaps for fear of exactly this situation. Lydia was tall and well-formed and womanly, but she was not even sixteen years of age yet and quite young to bear a child.
Nonetheless, it seemed likely, though not certain, that Lydia was indeed pregnant and would be birthing a baby a few months after her sixteenth birthday in June.
“You might be pregnant,” Elizabeth said cautiously, “but it is not a certainty. For now, let us see what happens. It has been a most peculiar few weeks, and perhaps you are merely … well, I do not know.”
“I have never been late with my courses,” Lydia replied, and suddenly she was sobbing as if her heart would break, and Elizabeth pulled her into her arms.
“I am not ready to have a baby,” the younger woman cried. “I am too young. I do not know what to do!”
“Dearest Lydia, pray do not distress yourself. If you are, well, we will manage, and you may not be.”
Lydia lifted a tear-stained face and asked, “Do you truly think I may not be?”
“I do think it possible,” Elizabeth said truthfully. “Darling Sister, please go on with your life, and we will see what happens. Now, are you feeling unwell at all?”
“No, not at all, though I am a rather more tired than usual. I slept in today, and Alexander was not pleased.”
Elizabeth nodded, her brow furrowed, and said, “Yes, I know he wishes for you to rise early to fulfill your duties, but I think it best to tell him that it is possible you are with child.”
Again, tears filled those dark blue eyes. “Must I, Lizzy? I fear he will be so angry.”
“My darling, your husband is a kind and honorable man, and he is a sensible one as well. He must have known this was a possibility.”
Lydia gulped hard and sat up. “I did not think it was possible, but I will tell him tonight.”
***
Dining Parlor
Parsonage at Kympton
Mid February, 1812
8 O’clock in the morning
“Good morning, Alexander,” Elizabeth said, stepping into the neat dining parlor and walking over to the pot of coffee, which was gently steaming on the side board.
“Good morning, Elizabeth,” Alexander replied. “I hope you slept well?”
“Yes, thank you,” she answered, sitting down at the table and wrapping her hands around her warm mug.
The door opened, and Molly, one of the servants, hurried in with eggs and muffins, and Elizabeth and Alexander fell to eating with alacrity.
Once their appetite had been sated, Alexander asked, “Do you know how Lydia is this morning?”
Elizabeth finished chewing a bite of muffin and then said, “I checked on her before I came downstairs, and she was still asleep, but that is no great surprise. Gwendolyn will help her rise at nine as usual.”
Alexander sighed and said, “It grieves me that Lydia is having such a difficult time with the pregnancy.”
Elizabeth nodded and said, “I am as well, but at least she has assistance. It was kind of you to hire a personal maid for Lydia.”
“We can afford it, and it is not fair to you to try to manage Lydia’s illness while helping manage the house and assist with the tenantry. I know I have said this before, but I will say it again. We are most grateful for your help, Elizabeth.”
She smiled at him and picked up another muffin. “You know that I do not mind in the least, and it is an honor to help not only you and my sister, but the people of Kympton as well. Speaking of that, where should I visit today?”
Alexander gazed at her intently, as if being certain of the truthfulness of her words, and then said, “I have the list of families in my study and will give it to you when we are finished eating.”
“Excellent.”
***
On the way to the Johansen Tenant Farm
An Hour Later
The horse's hooves clopped on the hard-packed dirt road, the wheels of the modest gig creaking. It was a cold day, and both Jonathon and Elizabeth were warmly bundled. The sturdy manservant driving the gig was selected for having been born and raised in the area and consequently knowing every local family and home. A brick each at their feet kept them warm, aided by a thick woolen rug over their laps. Elizabeth had a knitted scarf across her neck and face and mittens on her hands, and she was able to enjoy the day, clear and sunny as it was.
She was grateful for the sun's cheer, as the past few weeks had been rather challenging. Her reassurances to Lydia that her younger sister might not be pregnant had quickly fallen flat. A bit of extra weariness had swiftly become exhaustion and illness, and Lydia had – by necessity as much as choice – rapidly become largely confined to her bedchamber. She could not possibly act as mistress of the parsonage, with all that entailed, and Elizabeth had stepped into that role.
Within the week of learning of Lydia’s pregnancy, Alexander had hired one of the village girls to be a maid to his afflicted wife, and one evening, he had drawn Elizabeth aside into the book nook after dinner.
"My dear Elizabeth, I am very grateful for all you are doing to help us," he had told her. "I do not want you to feel obligated to take on every duty of a parson's wife, however. It is not your responsibility to visit the sick or new mothers. The people will understand. They have been this long without a mistress in the parsonage, and they will be well enough awhile longer."
"I do not mind," Elizabeth had assured him with perfect truth. She had never grudged her time and attention to the Longbourn tenants, and there was added joy in the beauty of the land around Pemberley. Even when the rides were cold, they were lovely, and she enjoyed the views. She had selected Monday and Thursday as the days for her to go out into Kympton and its surrounding farms to visit the congregants. Steaming hampers beneath the seat held fresh-baked loaves, warmly wrapped, and jars of preserved fruits and vegetables.
Several of the jars had been sent down from Pemberley with a note written by Mr. Darcy himself. The Home Farm was fertile and regularly produced more than even the extensive manor household could consume, and perhaps Mrs. Wickham and Miss Bennet could best see the food distributed where it would do the most good. It was a remarkable kindness in Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth reflected. Her own father was not a cruel Master of Longbourn and would never deny repairs to a tenant's cottage, but neither would he exert himself to send food from the Home Farm to his tenants save in direst need.
Nor was Mr. Darcy's generosity restricted to his responsibilities. Every Sunday, he made a point of singling out the inhabitants of the parsonage for a few minutes of light conversation. The congregation had taken his cue and welcomed the newcomers in their midst, though they remained curious about their parson's pretty young wife and her unmarried elder sister.
Elizabeth was confident, however, that such curiosity was turning into genuine respect, as her visits to the local tenant families were always well received. She glanced at the list in her hand as the gig approached the simple cottage of the Johansens. Alexander had noted that Esther, one of the Johansen children, was ill and had been for several days. The hamper of food would doubtless be a blessing for the family.
Elizabeth frowned at the sight of another gig attached to a familiar chestnut horse with white stockings. What was Doctor Appleton doing here? Of course, there was sickness in the house, but Appleton generally did not call on tenant farmers unless there was a serious problem.
She quickly descended from the gig and said, “Jonathon, let me speak with the doctor before I fetch the basket of food for the Johansens.”
“Yes, Miss.”
She took a few steps toward the door when it suddenly opened to reveal Doctor Appleton, a tall, red-headed man of some thirty summers.
“Doctor,” she said in a concerned tone. “How is young Esther?”
The doctor walked closer and then halted some six feet away, his face grim. “She has the measles.”
“Oh, poor soul.” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Measles are so very uncomfortable, as I well remember.”
The man’s expression lightened, and he said, “So you have already had it?”
“I have when I was ten years old, and very unpleasant it was. Indeed, all my sisters and I came down with it at that time.”
The doctor nodded. “It is a disagreeable disease, and I fear all of the Johansen children will likely come down with it. Since you have already had the illness, it is safe for you to deliver your basket, if you like.”
She nodded and turned to Jonathon, who had, in the interim, jumped down from the gig and was holding the basket meant for the family within the cottage.
“Jonathon,” Elizabeth said, “have you had measles?”
“Yes, Miss, I have, when I was a boy.”
“Very good, then,” Appleton said. “I must also visit the Bartons, as one of their children is sickening. I can only hope that he is not ill with measles, too.”
Elizabeth watched as the man hurried over to the gig, climbed up, and clucked at his horse, which immediately began trotting down the lane.
She was suddenly aware of the chilly wind and made her hasty way to the front door, whereupon she knocked. Moments later, the door opened to reveal Mrs. Johansen, looking somewhat haggard, who greeted her with gratitude.
In the midst of her questions and handing over the basket, her mind buzzed with concern about the future. Measles was, she knew, a dreadfully contagious disease, and Esther Johansen had attended church the previous Sunday. Even though death from measles was rare, the sickness was debilitating and extremely unpleasant for those who caught it. The Lord above only knew how far the sickness would spread in Kympton and the surrounding area.