Page 26 of The Power of Refusal

T hey led a quiet life in London. Elizabeth and Jane called on aunt and uncle Gardiner and renewed some old acquaintances. Elizabeth returned to the warehouse to view the new stock and used every free moment to sketch for her uncle. Jane was glad of Aunt Gardiner’s support and her promise to be with her during her travail. In her advanced stage of pregnancy, Jane was tired, unwieldy, and little in society, but Bingley circulated among old acquaintances.

Among those he saw was Mr Darcy. Elizabeth schooled her face into an expression of distant interest as Charles described their meeting at White’s. Darcy had been much the same, albeit wearied to Charles’s eye. He attributed that to his loss some months before.

Elizabeth hung on to Charles’s chatter, gleaning but little information about Darcy. He was in town to attend to some business. He still wore his mourning band. The years had not dimmed his wit. Elizabeth conjured in her mind a slightly older Darcy, still handsome beyond anything, with an even more serious air, if that were possible. She would commit her vision to paper when she was alone in the evening. Could she still recall his features with accuracy after so many years? Indeed, she could.

Not long after the reunion of Bingley and Darcy, Jane awoke with pains. Charles, his lips white, commanded messengers to fetch the midwife and physician and sent his carriage to Gracechurch Street with an urgent request. Jane would have her Aunt Gardiner attend her in the birthing room. Mrs Bennet was hours away, as she had been given a rather later date for the expected delivery. That lady planned to descend on the Gardiner home in two weeks, which was still sooner than Jane wished for her mother’s dubious guidance.

Aunt Gardiner arrived before the midwife, to Elizabeth’s great relief. The housekeeper, Mrs Potter, and the monthly nurse would join her in attending Jane, but Jane desired the comfort of her aunt.

“Oh, thank goodness you are here, Aunt. Jane is well, but I am so fretful. All I could think to do was to put her to bed in a clean shift.”

“You did well, Lizzy. There is not a great deal for us to do. The work is Jane’s. Once the midwife has arrived, we will merely sit and try to make Jane as comfortable as possible. Are you certain you wish to remain?”

“As long as Jane wishes me present, here I will be,” Elizabeth said.

Jane then reached for her aunt, who sat beside her, speaking calmly and softly to ease Jane’s nerves.

“Try to rest, dear, if you can, between the pains. We want to conserve your energy for your little one,” Mrs Gardiner said.

Charles paced around the rooms like a lion in the Royal Menagerie. Jane charged Elizabeth with seeing that he at least attempted to eat, but Charles could barely sit for two minutes before he again asked questions Elizabeth could not answer.

The physician paid a call, spoke with the midwife, and reported that all was proceeding as it ought. He promised to return in several hours, unless sent for earlier.

“Several hours?” Charles asked.

“Indeed, sir. With a first confinement, ladies often labour for a day or longer. Mrs Cogswell has all in hand for now,” the physician said, referring to the midwife.

Charles sat then, collapsing into a chair with his head in his hands. “Poor Jane. Is she truly well, Lizzy? Do you think I might see her?”

Elizabeth consulted the ladies in the birthing room, and Charles was admitted to see for himself Jane was entirely well. His reassurance lasted until his lady experienced another pain. Her face contorted, and she squeezed his hand with alarming force.

When the pain passed, she turned to Charles again, her brow dotted with moisture.

Charles peppered Mrs Cogswell with questions. Was this normal? Ought she to be in such pain? What could be done for her relief?

“Nature will take its course, Mr Bingley. Everything is perfectly normal,” she assured him.

Elizabeth and Mrs Gardiner looked at Jane, then at one another. Charles’s presence, once he had held her hand for a spell, seemed to create another worry for Jane.

“I think Jane needs to rest, Charles. We will call you as soon as she asks for your company,” Mrs Gardiner said.

Charles obediently departed the room with no little relief.

“Lizzy, please make sure Charles is well. He is a dear, but I cannot spare the strength to worry about him,” Jane said.

Thus, Elizabeth was the conduit between the master of the house and the birthing chamber for all the long, exhausting day. When at last, well after dark, the Bingley heir made his debut, Charles had fallen into an exhausted doze in a soft chair in his study. He had worn himself out with pacing and worry. Elizabeth wondered Jane’s shouts had not awakened him.

The maid rapped on the open door. Charles bolted up. “What is amiss?” he said.

Elizabeth and the maid exchanged a smile. “All is well, Charles. There is someone for you to meet.”

“A caller? At this hour?” Charles asked in confusion.

Elizabeth laughed very softly. Then he noticed the bundle in her arms. He rushed toward her, asking, “Is Jane well? Is that, do we have a baby?”

“Here is your son, Charles. Is he not beautiful?”

Charles demonstrated a perfect illustration of the expression “flabbergasted.” Elizabeth hoped she could capture it in a sketch later. She directed him to his chair, then placed the bundle in his arms.

Charles looked down at his son with awe. For once, the voluble Mr Bingley was speechless. Then, he whispered, “Hello, my son.” When he looked up, his eyes were teary, and his face bore the most enormous smile Elizabeth had ever witnessed.

∞∞∞

Darcy—

There is great rejoicing in Berkley Square! We have welcomed Peter Abraham Bingley to the family! Mrs Bingley is well, despite a long and terrifying travail. I was useless in the process, but the joy which overcame me when Jane’s sister handed me the mite was indescribable. He is lusty and loud, which I am told is to be praised.

Let me know when we might meet at White’s for a celebratory drink? Yr Svt,CB

Darcy froze on the words “Jane’s sister.” With so many sisters, it could be one of four ladies who assisted Mrs Bingley. Miss Mary Bennet was the eldest unmarried. She must be still at Longbourn, and, presumably as a spinster, would be most available to help the Bingleys. Since Elizabeth was wed, would she not be in Alton with her husband? Had she children of her own?

Dread took hold. He would not see those fine eyes in London.

Darcy sent a congratulatory note to Berkley Square and prepared himself for the coming days. He considered himself still in half mourning, and he did not wish for much society. He had attended some small social gatherings, but his heart was not in it. Georgiana would insist he re-enter society soon. She would soon be churched after the birth of her son, and soon she could drag him into the fray. She would have him wed again.

∞∞∞

Elizabeth saw Jane’s eyes again drift to the cradle where baby Peter was attempting to sleep. Each time Mrs Bennet’s exhortations reached top volume, the baby stirred. It would certainly not do to allow Peter’s nap to be interrupted. Elizabeth mouthed to Jane, “Shall I take him?” Jane nodded subtly.

Mrs Bennet had arrived but two weeks after the birth. Jane had not had the will to delay Charles from writing to tell her family about the event. Thus, far sooner than anyone wished, Mrs Bennet descended.

That lady was in a high dungeon when she discovered there was no guest room in the Bingleys place. Mrs Gardiner offered to accommodate her, which she accepted with little grace. Jane was more than happy to see her mother made to leave each evening.

Mrs Bennet was replete with instructions for Jane’s recovery. She was not to leave her bed for two months. She must not emerge from the house until she had been churched. Her diet must be plain, with no meat, no mixed dishes, and ample broth. Mrs Bennet arrived by late morning each day to ensure her directions were followed.

On this day, Mrs Bennet was reiterating her instructions to Jane.

“It is more than enough you fed the mite this week. You must give his care over to a wet nurse else you will lose your shape. It is proper for you to remain in bed for at least two months. And cover those windows! The light will damage your eyes! You must have a darkened room. Where is the caudle? Have you been eating meat? My dear, broth, gruel, and caudle should be all you take!”

For Elizabeth, escaping her mother’s lecture was no small benefit to taking the baby out of the room. Jane would do as she wished, and as the midwife had advised, but Mrs Bennet would not be silenced on the matter. Her strictures were a generation out of date.

Elizabeth settled on a soft chair in the drawing room. Little Peter’s face puckered to prepare for a wail, so Elizabeth softly sang as she rocked him in her arms. He found his thumb and relaxed as his aunt serenaded him.

The last weeks had been tiring. Jane had slept ill in her last weeks before her confinement, and any noise carried in the small apartment. The close quarters meant that when Peter woke in the night, everyone heard his complaints. Charles decreed Jane remain in bed, so the nurse would bring her the baby to feed. Charles had not yet perfected the art of sleeping through the cries, but as soon as Peter was put to breast, Charles would doze off in perfect harmony with his son.

Mrs Bennet’s unwanted arrival had been disruptive to the peace of the Bingley family. Mrs Gardiner did what she could to keep Mrs Bennet on Gracechurch Street, but inevitably she would insist on “taking care of Jane” and arrive without warning on Berkley Square. Her complaints about the small size of the apartments, the lack of a guest chamber, and the tiresome journey from Gracechurch Street were repeated until everyone wished her elsewhere.

Baby Peter, praised to the heavens for having that equipage that rendered him the heir, did not relish his grandmother’s noisy attention. He was otherwise a placid baby, only distressed by hunger or excessive dampness in his nether regions. Mrs Bennet’s shrill remarks creased his little forehead, and he wrinkled his nose decidedly when close to her cloying scent. On the whole, he far preferred the company of his maiden aunt, if he could not have his mother.

Fortunately, Mrs Bennet lost interest in the infant quickly, so when Elizabeth spirited him away, she was unperturbed. Elizabeth enjoyed the warm comfort of the little bundle in her arms, and sang him nonsense, telling him tales about his grand estate and his perfect mother. His sleeping weight acted as a soporific. She needed to keep her wits about her, else she, too, would drift off.

The housekeeper’s step interrupted Elizabeth’s drowsing. She cleared her throat and was about to speak when Elizabeth lost the power of hearing her. Behind Mrs Potter stood a tall, well-formed, fantastically familiar figure. Elizabeth could not disturb Peter by standing, which was just as well as she felt faint. She scrambled to remember how to speak.

“Mr Darcy.”