Page 38 of The Power of Refusal

O nly for Elizabeth would Darcy again attempt to speak sense to the deluded parson. Darcy had waited in his carriage for the parson to return, to assuage Elizabeth’s fear of Mr Couper’s ire should she sit alone in the drawing room with him. Darcy followed as he entered the house.

“If I might have a moment of your time, Mr Couper,” he said in as respectful a tone as he could muster.

Couper raised a brow and, with a long-suffering look, stood aside to allow Darcy into his study.

“How may I help you, Mr Darcy?” he asked, sitting at his desk and handling some papers in a manner to show he was far too busy to be bothered.

“I understand Mrs Couper has been poorly of late,” he said in a neutral tone.

“Mrs Couper suffers to bring new life into the world. It is God’s will.” Mr Couper’s tone was dismissive, unconcerned.

“I understand. Most confinements are difficult. It is the way of nature. Mrs Couper delivered a child two years ago, did she not? I wonder, was she as ill during that time?” Darcy feigned curiosity. They both well knew Mrs Couper’s current condition was worse.

Mr Couper paused momentarily. “Of course, each confinement is different, or so the midwife tells me.”

“Ah, so the midwife is not concerned about her condition. That is a relief.”

Mr Couper looked up, surprised. “Well, she has said my excellent wife is rather larger than she might wish. She may have some imbalance in her humours, I suppose.”

“Is there anything that might be done for her? To ensure she is strong enough towithstand her travail? To recover to care for little Frances?”

Mr Couper shook his head. “The midwife would call a physician, but I am loath to have a man put his hands on my wife. It is unseemly. Indecent.”

“Would you consider a consultation? Mrs Danvers could have the advice of a trained physician. A man would, of course, have more training and knowledge about the matter. He need not act indecently to advise the midwife.” Darcy was pleased Elizabeth was not near to hear him pandering to the fat-headed dolt. He would say what needed to be said to convince him to spare his wife’s life.

Mr Couper considered this. “Even if it were possible, the funds to pay such a trained physician are beyond the means of the parish. Would I have to see to such care for every woman in the town?”

Darcy clenched his jaw. Was this man willing to sacrifice the very life of his wife for a few shillings? Such a fool did not deserve the love of a decent woman.

“Mr Couper, I would consider it an honour to be permitted to assist with the cost of a physician to attend to Mrs Couper. She is the beloved sister of Mrs Bingley and Miss Bennet, and I hold those ladies in the highest esteem. Please allow me the privilege of providing a physician to advise Mrs Danvers.” Darcy would require ample hot water to wash off the stain of this meeting. If it meant Miss Elizabeth need not bear the pain of losing her sister, he would endure it all.

The insufferable man had to hem and haw and raise further objections, but Darcy knew he had won when he saw the glint in the parson’s eye at his offer to pay the fee. How was it possible a man would not think his wife’s very survival was not worth any sum of money? Were he to ever have the good fortune to marry Elizabeth, the entirety of Pemberley would not be too high a price to ensure her safety.

∞∞∞

Mary never left her chamber that day. Elizabeth and the servant girl, Rachel, were up and down the stairs with tea and caudle and bread, but Mary took very little. Elizabeth entertained little Frances, supervised the household, and even weeded the bed of vegetables, all the while dreaming of seeing Mr Darcy again.

After her bout of tears in his embrace, Elizabeth was nearly certain Mr Darcy had forgiven her second refusal. How she had worked herself up into a fit of nerves worthy of her mother at Lockwood that night was a mystery. Her rational sense knew Mr Darcy would not insult her with an indecent proposal. Her years of struggle, loneliness, and unwanted proposals seemed to have twisted her very mind. She never wished to be away from him. Such a sense of peace and security filled her when in his arms she would have remained unmoving were it not for the imminent arrival of Mr Couper. Had that gentleman found them in one another’s arms, he might do anything. She could not risk being made to leave Mary, not even for the great consolation of Mr Darcy’s embrace.

She saw Mr Darcy enter the house directly after Mr Couper returned. How she wished she could hear their discussion. When Mr Darcy left, she was still in the vegetable bed, hoping to see him as he departed.

Mr Darcy looked startled to see her with an apron covering her old gown, her gloves stained with earth.

“Forgive my appearance. I have been tending my sister’s garden.”

“Of course. I spoke with Mr Couper.” Darcy’s expression of distaste was accompanied by a shake of his head.

“Thank you. I cannot hope you convinced him to seek a physician, but I appreciate your attempt.”

A fleeting smile crossed Mr Darcy’s face. “My physician will arrive this evening. Mr Couper has agreed to permit him to consult with Mrs Danvers tomorrow.”

Tears stung her eyes. Of course, Mr Couper would concede only to a man, and such a man was Mr Darcy that he could cajole the disagreeable parson into doing what was best for his wife.

“We thank you for your unexampled kindness to my poor sister.” Elizabeth put her hand on his arm, looking up at him with unfettered admiration.

“If you will thank me,” he replied, “let it be for yourself alone. I thought only of you.” Mr Darcy’s eyes spoke the tenderness his sentiment hinted.

Elizabeth’s face heated with a blush. Had she only seen this expression on Mr Darcy’s face that evening in Lockwood, she would never have misunderstood him so.

A sound caught Elizabeth’s attention. She glanced at the house, seeing Mr Couper at his window, a stern, accusatory expression directed at them. Could he see she was touching Mr Darcy? She ripped her hand away and stepped back.

Mr Darcy saw the direction of her glance and straightened.

“Please send for me at the inn should you require anything. My physician and I shall call in the morning.”

Elizabeth parted reluctantly with Mr Darcy. She changed into a clean gown and joined Mr Couper.

"Mary is not well enough to join us at the table,” she said as she took a seat. Mr Couper frowned and began filling his plate.

“Your conversation with Mr Darcy this afternoon looked exceedingly intimate.” Mr Couper glared at her with an expression of outrage, as if she had committed an egregious sin.

“We spoke briefly about arrangements for my sister,” Elizabeth said, keeping her tone flat.

Mr Couper made a sound in his throat, glared at her as though she were Mary Magdalene herself, and silently consumed his meal.

Elizabeth’s head was too full, with worry for her sister and thoughts of Mr Darcy. She allowed the dinner hour to pass without a word. She had no kind thoughts for Mr Couper. If he rudely chose to eat in silence, she would not oppose him.

∞∞∞

“Lizzy, I must beg you to send for Mrs Danvers. I believe my time has arrived,” Mary whispered. Elizabeth had gone up to check on her sister after the long, silent meal with Mr Couper.

The boy who tended the garden gladly took a coin to run to fetch Mrs Danvers. Elizabeth sat with Mary, watching with rising terror as her sister’s face intermittently contorted with pain. Pale, her face puffy and damp with perspiration, Mary did not appear to have within her the strength to face her ordeal. Should she have sent the boy to the inn for Mr Darcy as well?

Elizabeth was certain she had far too little knowledge to determine the correct path. She wiped Mary’s face with a cool cloth and counted the moments until the midwife arrived.

Mrs Danvers bustled about the room. She laid a cool cloth on Mary’s forehead, her voice low and soothing.

“There now, mistress," she said, her accent thick and rough, "'ee must breathe through it, like I told 'ee. T'babe'll come when 'e's ready, and not a moment afore.”

Elizabeth sat by Mary’s bedside, holding her sister’s hand. Mary’s face was white, her brow damp and furrowed. She moaned softly. Her eyes fluttered open and closed. Elizabeth looked up at the midwife, her eyes wide with fear. “Is there nothing more we can do?” she asked, her voice trembling.

The midwife shook her head with a grimace. “I've seen this afore, I 'ave. T'mistress needs more 'elp than I can give 'er.”

Elizabeth was disheartened. Mr Couper had declined to summon the physician, despite Elizabeth's entreaties. He was content to wait until the morning, when Mr Darcy had arranged for his physician to call. The dear midwife had argued with him, but he stood firm. Elizabeth was convinced his grudging agreement to permit Mr Darcy’s physician to call was feigned. Was there no one about who she could send to ask Mr Darcy to come?

Mary cried out then, her body tensing with pain. Elizabeth gripped her hand tighter, murmuring words of comfort and encouragement.

“I will go to the inn and fetch Mr Darcy myself,” Elizabeth said, rising to run out into the night.

The midwife moved to the end of the bed, her hands busy beneath the sheets. She frowned, her brow creasing with concern.

Mary groaned, eyes fluttering open. “Rachel—send her,” she whispered.

Elizabeth bolted from the room, ran down the stairs. In the dark and silent kitchen, Elizabeth slumped against the brick.

“What is it, Miss Lizzy? Do you need more water sent up?” Rachel emerged from a narrow door at the end of the kitchen.

“Would you go with me to the inn to fetch Mr Darcy and the doctor? I am not certain I know the way,” Elizabeth spoke in a low tone.

“To the inn? It is near midnight. Ought you to be out of the house now?”

“My sister needs a doctor, Rachel. I do not like to ask this, but there is no one else.”

“No one ’cept the master. Well, I know he would not get out of bed for anything. I will go. You go back and help Mrs Danvers.”

“Alone? Rachel, I will go with you.”

“I will be faster alone, miss. I can take the pathways through the trees. I know it well.” Rachel stood tall and pulled on a shawl.

Rachel had lifted the latch and was running along the sweep in an instant. Elizabeth allowed herself a scant moment to put her head down on the deal table in the kitchen. She would not weep, not now. She reminded herself her courage would rise as she saw her sister’s need. She rose and headed back up the rear stairs.

∞∞∞

Mr Cranston had arrived in a Darcy coach well after the sun had set. The two men secured a private dining room in the small but serviceable Swan Inn in Alton. They had consumed an adequate meal and were catching up on mutual acquaintance over wine when the innkeeper knocked on their door.

“My apologies, sirs. This miss says she was sent to fetch Mr Darcy.” The innkeeper’s raised brow and incredulous tone indicated his doubts.

Darcy thought he recognised the harried servant girl from the parsonage.

"I am Mr Darcy,” he said, standing and giving the girl an encouraging look.

“Sir, it is the mistress. She— Mrs Danvers says ’tis her time. She is awfully poorly. Miss Elizabeth begged me to run to fetch you.” The girl was wide eyed with terror, her body trembling as she forced out the words.

Darcy exchanged a look with Mr Cranston.

“I will gather my satchel,” Mr Cranston said as he walked out to mount the stairs to his chamber.

“You are Rachel, are you not?” Mr Darcy asked gently.

The girl nodded, her shoulders still shaking as if she were chilled. “Some tea for the girl, innkeeper?”

The man raised his brows, but stepped out, nonetheless.

“Please sit a moment whilst we wait for Mr Cranston. Can you tell me what happened, Rachel?”

“Mistress did not come down for supper. She has been abed the whole day. After I cleared the plates, Miss Bennet sent Simon to fetch Mrs Danvers. But then it were hours and hours and then Miss Bennet come down and woke me. She wanted me to show her the way to the inn. But I run from the parsonage. I did. There weren't a soul about, and I were right afeared to be alone on the dark path,” Rachel stammered, her eyes widening as the tea arrived, served in a proper customer’s cup.

“Please drink the tea, Rachel. You are safe here. We will bring you back to the parsonage with us.” Mr Darcy used a soothing tone. The poor girl was no more than twelve, and as thin as a stick. She slurped the tea with enthusiasm.

Mr Cranston returned, and the two men prepared to depart. Rachel hung back, uncertainty in her eyes.

At Darcy’s nod, the coachman offered Rachel a place beside him, and she scrambled up, excitement at riding on such a fancy coach flashing in her eyes.

∞∞∞

“Miss Elizabeth,” Mrs Danvers said, her voice urgent. “I need ye to come ’ere and ’old the missus steady.”

Elizabeth’s heart raced as she moved to comply. The sight of her sister in such agony frightened her.

The midwife worked quickly, her hands sure and steady. She guided Mary through each contraction, urging her not to push until the time was right.

Elizabeth held Mary’s shoulders, her own body trembling with fear and exertion. She whispered prayers under her breath, begging God to spare her sister and the child.

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, and still the baby did not come. Mary grew weaker with each passing moment. Her face was ashen and her breathing shallow. Suddenly, a tremor passed over Mary. Her limbs contorted and her body shook.

“What is happening?” Elizabeth cried.

The midwife’s face was grim, her lips pressed into a thin line. She looked up at Elizabeth, her eyes heavy with sorrow.

“I've done all I can, miss," she said, her voice rough with emotion. "'Tis in t'Lord's 'ands now.”

Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat. She could not lose Mary, not like this. Not with so much life ahead of her.

A sudden commotion outside the room drew their attention. Elizabeth’s heart leapt with hope as she heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. Mrs Danvers nodded for Elizabeth to answer the door. She dearly hoped this would not signal the intrusion of Mr Couper, who had coldly dismissed her concerns.

Instead, Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she recognised the tall, broad-shouldered form of Mr Darcy.

His eyes lingered on Elizabeth’s tear-stained face. He spoke then, his voice low and urgent. “I have brought my physician, Mr Cranston. He will do everything in his power to save your sister and the child.”

Mrs Danvers asked with suspicion, “What of Mr Hardy? He is the doctor hereabouts.”

“Madam, I assure you Mr Cranston is a man of the highest calibre. He has attended to royalty and nobility alike.”

Mr Cranston entered the room, his black bag clutched in his hand. He moved to Mary’s bedside, his eyes sharp and assessing.

Elizabeth stepped out and closed the door, her heart pounding in her chest. She looked up at Mr Darcy and swayed with emotion. In his eyes, she saw a look of fierce determination, of unwavering support.

He had come for her. He would stop at nothing to ensure her sister’s safety and well-being. For her.

The thought filled her with a sudden warmth, a flicker of hope in the darkness. She had struggled for so many hours, feeling helpless, overwhelmed by the intensity of the day.

Suddenly, her knees weakened, and her head swam. She sensed herself slumping, collapsing against the wall.

Strong arms enfolded her. Her body was flush against a firm, warm chest. In her utter exhaustion, Elizabeth allowed herself to relax into a safe, comforting embrace.