Page 48 of Yearning

“Don’t be ridiculous, Elizabeth!” he cried after her, very angry.

She turned a corner and went up the stairs, leaving him there. She was unable to return for some time, however, because she had a bad bout of the false labor twinges on the way to her room. She still thought it was false labor, though she had to admit that she was worried, because they did seem very strong and—not painful exactly but, well, very intense—and it was not that she could not move, but that she was unable to stop moving, that the only thing that allowed her to handle the intensity of the twinges was to pace back and forth.

It was such that she could not stand still to allow anyone to unbutton her dress or to help her into a new one, so she walked and walked and walked for some time until it finally felt a bit less and she was able to change her clothes, have her hair pulled back, and to return downstairs.

Mr. Darcy, of course, could not climb the stairs, she realized. He was, however, in dry clothes, and she did not inquire about how that had come about, because she was distracted by another bout of intensity, where she had to stand and pace again.

“Lady Hellig,” said Mr. Darcy tersely, “I think someone needs to send for the midwife. You have a midwife, I assume?”

“It’s raining out there.” She flung out a hand to the window, where—indeed—it was still pouring rain. “I cannot ask anyone to go out for the midwife in this weather. She will only come and laugh at me anyway. I know of this! I know of how everyone laughs at new mothers for thinking every twinge and pain is labor. It is only false labor, and it will pass. I am not sending for the midwife.”

“Well, pardon me for saying so, my lady, but I think it might be worth having someone poke fun at you for the security of knowing the babe was safe. What if you are not having false labor at all? Shall you and I bring this babe into the world, then? Is that what you think is the wisest course?”

Elizabeth suddenly felt like crying. “Well… well, I do not know what to do.”

“Of course you do not. You should not be making decisions right now,” said Mr. Darcy. He did something rather mad, something she supposed she should have expected that he could do, but that she had not realized he could do. He pushed up out of his chair and balanced on his one good leg, holding onto the chair to keep himself upright. He peered out the window. “The rain is really coming down,” he said.

She could not comment on his ability to stand—stand—because she was too busy pacing.

“So, I think we need the opinion of someone else who is more knowledgeable about these things.” He sat back down and wheeled himself to the door of the sitting room where she had found him and called out to someone.

In a moment, two of the scullery maids were at the door, asking her questions. How long was it between her twinges? Could she speak through one? Did it hurt?

“She is likely all right,” said one of the maids. “She will have some hours yet.”

“But I do not think it is false labor, my lady,” said another of the maids. “It seems too developed for that.”

“Yes, and you must keep an eye on it, because it will grow more intense by and by,” said the other maid. “We’ll send Jacob out for the midwife, I think. He does not mind riding in the rain.”

“Well, he must!” said Elizabeth, even knowing that Jacob was sixteen years old and like to enjoy anything he might regard as an adventure.

“Send him,” said Mr. Darcy, very grave.

The maids left.

Elizabeth resumed pacing.

Mr. Darcy watched her. “I don’t suppose you wish to sit down?”

She shook her head. “I really do not. It is often thus, though. I have observed women in labor before, and they do like to move. It’s encouraged, in fact. I have heard the midwife say it helps things along.”

“Elizabeth…” He gripped the arms of his chair. “I do not think I should be here.”

“Do not leave me!” The words burst out of her mouth.

“Of course not,” he said. “But I worry… your husband, you said your husband was jealous. He will know I was here. All of the servants have seen me. They will have heard you saying you would help me undress.”

She let out a moan. “Well, he is gone, is he not? If I mattered so much to him, would he not have made me a priority?”

“True enough,” said Mr. Darcy, grimacing. “What could he be thinking? He has barely seen you as you grew this babe. He has been away from you all of the time. He is a very stupid sort of person, I think. Anyone who would miss this… Elizabeth, you are carrying his babe.”

“You will stay?” That was all she responded to this.

“I shall stay.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

JACOB RETURNED NEARLY an hour later. The rain had stopped. He was alone, having not brought the midwife with him.