North by Northanger (A Mr. & Mrs. Darcy Mystery) (5 page)

“Whether he remembers her or not, I look forward to meeting him.” Darcy cast her a look of enquiry. “Unless you would rather not delay our return to Pemberley? Perhaps it would be best for your health if we traveled straight home. We also have arrangements for the harvest feast to oversee.”

Each autumn, Pemberley hosted a harvest feast for its tenants and villagers. The Darcy family had sponsored the event for generations. Elizabeth looked forward to this year’s day-long celebration, her first as mistress of Pemberley. But they need not forgo the opportunity to meet Captain Tilney—the date of the feast was still many weeks distant, and their steward and housekeeper had preliminary preparations well in hand.

“No,” she said quickly “I think a stay in Gloucestershire sounds like a pleasant means by which to break up the long journey to Derbyshire. In addition to the diversion of meeting the captain, Northanger Abbey surely offers more comfort than an inn. And plenty of time remains before the harvest feast.”

“All right, then,” he agreed. “I shall advise Captain Tilney to expect us Tuesday week.”

Five

Mrs Coulthard and Anne, late of Manydown, are both dead, and both died in childbed. We have not regaled Mary with this news
.

—Jane Austen, letter to Cassandra

E
nticed by a glorious autumn day—crisp air, warm sunlight, and not a cloud in the cerulean sky—Elizabeth elected to walk to Lady Catherine’s lodgings the following afternoon. She had always preferred the use of her own ten toes to other forms of travel, but even more so since arriving in Bath. The enclosed sedan chairs by which residents moved around the city created in her such a sense of confinement that each time she hired one, by the time she reached her destination she could barely restrain herself long enough for the bearers to lower it before bursting from the tiny box. So she reserved the cramped, jostling conveyances for times when it rained hard enough to render walking unpleasant even to her—a frequent-enough occurrence in Bath.

Though not exactly anticipating unmitigated delight in her errand, she set out for Camden Place determined to enjoy the fine weather and opportunity for exercise. Accompanied by her maid, she crossed
the bridge and entered Broad Street before turning up Landsdown Road. Here, however, her pace slowed. Bath was a city of hills, some of them quite steep, but she had not realized that Camden Place sat atop one of the most extreme slopes. She found herself stopping to catch her breath as she toiled uphill.

The struggle surprised her. She considered herself in good form, and was not unused to exertion; she had expected the climb to challenge but not utterly wind her. She raised a hand to her chest and felt her heart racing beneath her fingertips. What was the matter with her today?

She responded to her maid’s solicitous enquiries with a dismissive shake of her head, certain that she merely needed a few minutes to allow her pulse to resume a less frantic rate, and cited a desire to look in the window of the nearest shop. A display of dolls prompted her to consider the child she carried.

Would she bear a girl? For all her teasing of Darcy, she of course could not know with certainty. But if the ease with which she imagined the child as female and the difficulty with which she pictured it male meant something, if the midnight whisperings of her heart on restless nights could be trusted, if instinct counted for anything . . . she believed she carried a daughter.

The reverie lent her breathlessness context. Her body was no longer her own—she had a tiny passenger that would only grow larger in the coming months, and she would have to start remembering that. Meanwhile, her respiration steady once more, she completed the walk to Lady Catherine’s.

Darcy’s aunt greeted her with all the condescension Elizabeth had come to expect from her. She received Elizabeth in the drawing room, where Anne de Bourgh and Mrs. Jenkinson also sat. Elizabeth could not recall a single occasion upon which she had seen Miss de Bourgh without Mrs. Jenkinson at her side, and wondered whether the poor girl ever enjoyed a moment’s solitude. Or whether Mrs. Jenkinson did, for that matter.

“You appear breathless, Mrs. Darcy,” Lady Catherine observed.

“Camden Place is a steeper climb than I anticipated,” she said. “But I was rewarded by the view as I reached the top.”

“You
walked
?” Lady Catherine uttered the word as if Elizabeth had confessed to turning cartwheels. “For heaven’s sake, why did you not hire a chair?”

“It is a fine day, and I wanted the exercise.”

“And were repaid for your foolishness by fatiguing yourself. You are too headstrong for your own good—and that of the child you carry. Shame on you for thinking only of yourself. Does my nephew know how you conducted yourself here?”

He did not. Normally, Darcy encouraged her love of walking, but now that she was in the family way, she could not predict whether he would approve of her traveling by foot all the way up to Camden Place. So she simply had not told him of her intent before he departed their lodgings upon errands of his own.

Her silence proved answer enough for Lady Catherine. “I thought not.” She turned to the other two ladies. “Mrs. Jenkinson, I have matters to discuss with Mrs. Darcy that are unsuitable for the ears of a young lady not yet married. This would be a convenient time for you to escort Miss de Bourgh to the Pump Room.”

Mrs. Jenkinson, who had developed an intense interest in the carpet pattern when Lady Catherine began chastising Elizabeth, rose with alacrity. Anne appeared more reluctant to leave, the words “unsuitable for the ears of a young lady not yet married” having offered the tantalizing promise of conversation different from her mother’s usual repertoire.

Her ladyship waited until they had departed before fixing Elizabeth with her gaze once more. “Now then. When do you expect this child?”

Though she bristled at Lady Catherine’s commanding tone, Elizabeth resigned herself to submission—within limits. Cooperating with the interrogation seemed the most efficient way to bring it to an end.

“March.”

“When in March? March is thirty-one days long. Did not your mother help you estimate any more precisely than that? When I carried Anne, I knew exactly which day the child should come.”

“Early March.”

“Hmph. I suppose that is the best you can do.”

“The sixth of March at twenty-three minutes past four in the afternoon.”

Her ladyship was not amused. “You will, of course, want to spend your confinement in London, where the best physicians may be found. Dr. Skinner in Harley Street is the man you want. He is an older gentleman, so he knows what he is about. He attended me at Anne’s birth, and I advise all the young mothers of my acquaintance to use him if he will take them as patients. He attends mostly peers’ wives, but I will speak to him.”

“We are already engaged to meet Dr. Severn on Monday.”

“And who is this Dr. Severn? I have never heard of him.”

“He is highly recommended.”

“Where does he practice? Here in Bath?”

“Mostly in London, though he comes to Bath each winter for the season.”

“He is a poor choice, then. What if your child comes early and he is still in Bath while you are in London?”

“I do not intend to be in London at all. I shall remain at Pemberley for my confinement.”

“Pemberley? Whatever for? Neither Dr. Severn nor Dr. Skinner can attend you at that distance.”

“Mr. Darcy hopes to persuade Dr. Severn to come to Pemberley when my time approaches.”

“And if this Dr. Severn will not?”

“Perhaps I shall simply ask the local midwife to assist me.”

“A
midwife
?” From her ladyship’s tone, one would think Elizabeth had said “milliner.” “With the most learned physicians in the country available to you in London, you would settle for the aid of some provincial woman?”

“My mother delivered all five of her daughters with the assistance of our village midwife and had no trouble.”

“Your mother was fortunate. Do you have any idea what can happen—to the child and to yourself?”

“I realize there are dangers, but—”

“You young women think you know what to expect, but you are entirely ignorant of the trial before you. I myself labored for a day and a half, and surely would have died of exhaustion without Dr. Skinner. Or take the case of my neighbor Mrs. Anderson, who lost a healthy son in a breech birth. Had she used a physician instead of a midwife, he might have survived. I could offer countless more illustrations.”

Which she then proceeded to do.

As much as Elizabeth wanted to disregard these examples simply because it was Lady Catherine who offered them, she found she could not. She had heard similar stories, and had not been insensible to them, but today the cautionary tales seemed to settle on her heart in a way they had not previously. Her fatigue at climbing Landsdown Road had left her more aware of her increasing physical vulnerability, an unpleasant reality that she would have to take into consideration whether she cared to or not.

Nevertheless, she soon had heard as much from Darcy’s aunt as anyone could be expected to tolerate for one visit. “Lady Catherine, I appreciate your concern and your counsel. I will accord the matter due thought.” She rose to go.

“A London confinement, Mrs. Darcy,” her ladyship repeated once more. “You cannot possibly contemplate anything else. Do not forget that my own sister lost three babes after Fitzwilliam, then bled to death bringing Georgiana into the world. Consider the effect the loss of you or your child would have on my nephew. Whatever my feelings toward you, I would not have him suffer the torment his father experienced.”

Neither would Elizabeth. She also could not help but think that her own death would hardly be an altogether agreeable event for herself.

Her ladyship insisted on not only ordering her carriage for Elizabeth, but also accompanying her to Pulteney Street. Elizabeth supposed Lady Catherine wanted to tattle on her for having arrived in Camden Place under her own power, but as it turned out, she had an entirely different issue she wished to bring to Darcy’s attention.

Darcy had returned from his errands and greeted Lady Catherine’s arrival with evident surprise. “Mrs. Darcy and I had not anticipated the honor of a reciprocal visit so soon.” He glanced to Elizabeth with amused curiosity as her ladyship settled herself in the sitting room. “You must have enjoyed a pleasant tête-à-tête.”

“I have advised your wife on several subjects related to her lying-in. She would do well to heed my counsel.” Lady Catherine waved her hand. “Mrs. Darcy, you may excuse yourself now. I have a matter of family business to discuss with my nephew.”

Elizabeth stiffened. To dismiss her like a servant from her own sitting room! Though a moment ago she would have welcomed the opportunity to escape her ladyship’s presence, she now wanted to remain in the room solely on principle.

Darcy’s expression lost its amusement. “If it is family business, it can be discussed in the presence of my wife.”

“It does not concern her.”

“Then it does not concern me.”

Lady Catherine bristled. She looked at Elizabeth resentfully, then back at Darcy with an air of calculation. Elizabeth sensed that Darcy’s aunt wanted something from him and was weighing how much cooperation on her own part would be required to obtain it.

“Very well,” she said finally. “I suppose you will only divulge our conversation to her the moment I leave.” She spared Elizabeth one more glance, then declared, “Southwell is gone to France again.”

The travel arrangements of Darcy’s cousin hardly constituted the momentous news Elizabeth had anticipated after such a dramatic preface. Darcy, however, closed his eyes and sighed.

“Has he—”

“I have no particulars yet. But you know how poor his judgment
is, especially in regard to a certain individual. He narrowly avoided a scandal last time.”

“I remember.” He rubbed his brow wearily. “What does his brother think of this?”

“The news reached me only this morning, so I have had no opportunity to discuss it yet with Colonel Fitzwilliam. Even so, the colonel is needed with his regiment at present and therefore is not at liberty to sail off to France and serve as his brother’s keeper.”

“Neither am I.”

“If you can idle away weeks in Bath, you can go to Paris long enough to make a few discreet enquires.
Someone
must determine what his lordship is about and intervene if necessary to avert disaster. Else he could finally succeed in undoing himself, and all of us in the process. The political and social repercussions—”

“Would be grave indeed, I realize.”

“Then we are agreed. You will go.”

“No, but I shall send an agent in my stead. My solicitor, Mr. Harper, possesses sufficient connections in Paris to learn what we need to know. If my cousin indeed places himself in jeopardy once more, I will proceed as appropriate.”

“I would prefer that a member of the family undertake this charge.” Determination radiated from the former Lady Catherine Fitzwilliam with such intensity that Elizabeth thought the potted palm would bend under the force. But Darcy had inherited more than his Christian name from his mother’s family.

“If you wish to journey there yourself, I have no objection.”

Confronted with the resistance of her nephew’s equally strong will, her ladyship was forced to concede—though with an expression that clearly indicated annoyance. “If you can testify to Mr. Harper’s dependability and discretion, I suppose I am satisfied.” She rose. “At present.”

Before the wheels of Lady Catherine’s departing carriage had rotated a full turn, Elizabeth sought an explanation from Darcy. “I do hope you intend to enlighten me as to the subject of that conversation?”

“You were likely able to surmise most of it. Have you ever wondered why, in entrusting Georgiana’s guardianship jointly to me and one of my cousins, my late father chose Colonel Fitzwilliam instead of the earl?”