Carrie Bebris - The Deception At Lyme

“Pray, do not feel guilty any longer,” Elizabeth said. “I am glad one of us had a day that was not miserable.”

“Two of us,” Georgiana corrected. “Lily-Anne found Sir Laurence delightful, once she warmed up to him. He was so good with her, Elizabeth—it was charming to watch them together at the pastry shop. I think my niece is quite smitten.”

The animation in Georgiana’s eyes as she spoke of Sir Laurence made Elizabeth long to ask whether Lily-Anne’s aunt was smitten, as well, but she forbore. Georgiana’s regard for the baronet was evident; it was too early to quiz or tease her about its developing into something more.

Besides, Elizabeth was not in playful humor. Though happy that Georgiana and Lily-Anne had escaped the worst of the day’s events, she yet felt the weight of Lady Elliot’s untimely demise. Women died in childbed with tragic regularity, but Elizabeth could not help wondering whether she might have survived had she not also suffered a serious accident.

The company of her own child, however, helped lift Elizabeth’s mood. So, too, did a bath and fresh clothing. As her maid completed a simple arrangement of her hair, Elizabeth watched Lily-Anne play on the floor with her two favorite dolls. When the servant left the bedchamber, Elizabeth called Lily-Anne to her. Lily approached the dressing table, set her dolls upon it, and climbed into her mother’s lap. Elizabeth embraced her, saying not a word.

Lily asked to go for a walk. Elizabeth wished she could indulge her daughter immediately, but she and Darcy had agreed to make one more attempt to call upon Mr. Elliot. They also felt they ought to return to the Harvilles’ home. Upon reaching their lodgings, Darcy had sent a note advising them to expect Sir Walter or his emissary to call for the infant, but both he and Elizabeth wanted to take more formal leave of the generous couple as they ended their involvement in this whole unfortunate event.

“I am afraid a walk with me will have to wait, Lily. Do you want to play with Betsy and Maggie a while longer?”

Lily-Anne scooted off Elizabeth’s lap and reached for the pair of dolls on the dressing table. They were cloth dolls, gifts from Elizabeth’s sister Jane, and their appearance was proof that they were well loved. Privately, Elizabeth and Lily-Anne’s nurse referred to the dolls as Bald Betsy and Mangled Maggie. Once upon a time, Betsy had possessed red hair fashioned from yarn, but as Lily liked to carry her by it, most of the strands had disappeared. Maggie owed the preservation of her own hair to a sewn-on cap that matched her dress. However, Lily had decided that gumming Maggie’s stuffed legs was her preferred remedy for teething pain. After six teeth, the doll looked like the victim of a horrible carriage accident.

As Elizabeth tied the laces of her half-boots, Betsy and Maggie stood on the edge of the dressing table and engaged in a lively dialogue intelligible only to Lily-Anne, who performed it with great spirit. Unfortunately, the conversation took a hostile turn when the dolls shouted “no-no-no” at each other and Maggie knocked Betsy to the floor.

“Lily-Anne Darcy! That is not a nice way to play with your dolls. Pick up Betsy and treat her gently. Maggie should apologize.”

After Maggie delivered the apology, Lily-Anne turned to her mother. “Walk now?”

“Not yet, sweetheart—”

Elizabeth reconsidered. The rain had ceased some time ago; Lily-Anne could come with them to call upon the Harvilles. Surely they would not mind. They had children of their own, after all, and Lily might enjoy meeting the youngest boy. As for their stop at Mr. Elliot’s, Lily-Anne’s presence would provide the perfect excuse to keep the call brief—if they even found him at all.

“Yes, Lily. Let us take that walk now.”

Elizabeth and Darcy’s second visit to the Lion proved equally fruitless; Mr. Elliot still had not returned. They therefore proceeded to the Harvilles’ cottage. By the time they reached the shore, however, Elizabeth regretted her decision to bring Lily-Anne along. While the streets higher up the hill, near their own cottage, had begun to dry following the storm, those closer to the beach were still wet and dirty. As a result, Darcy wound up carrying Lily-Anne most of the way, a circumstance that pleased neither the child who wanted to use her own legs nor the father who had already endured a long day. Darcy bore it with fortitude; Lily-Anne, with better humor than Elizabeth anticipated. All three were grateful to finally reach Cobb Hamlet and the Harvilles’ home.

Mrs. Harville was happy to see the Darcys. She, too, had changed her attire and tidied her appearance since the morning’s exertions. “My husband is on his way to your cottage,” she said. “You must have missed each other en route. We thought you would want to know that Mr. Elliot has returned.”

“Mr. William Elliot?” Darcy asked.

“Yes, the gentleman you brought here earlier. He has been preparing his own lodgings to receive the injured mother and child. Poor man! He took the news of Mrs. Clay’s death very hard.”

“Has Sir Walter Elliot been in communication with you?” Elizabeth asked.

“Sir Walter? Not at all.”

While Elizabeth cast a puzzled glance at Darcy—which he returned in kind—Mrs. Harville bent to meet Lily-Anne’s eyes. “And who is this young lady?”

“Our daughter, Lily-Anne,” Elizabeth replied.

“I am honored to make your acquaintance, Miss Darcy,” she said with exaggerated formality. “I have a little boy not much older than you. Would you like to meet him?”

Lily-Anne looked to Elizabeth. After receiving a nod of permission, she accepted Mrs. Harville’s hand and went inside.

Elizabeth turned to Darcy. “Mr. Elliot means to take the baby?”

“Apparently he is ignorant of Sir Walter’s interest in the matter.”

They entered the house to find Mr. Elliot holding the newborn. The child was well swaddled and sleeping.

“Mr. and Mrs. Darcy,” Mr. Elliot greeted them. “I did not expect to see you again.”

“We tried to call upon you at the Lion,” Darcy said. “That is where you are staying, is it not?”

“For the time being. As soon as Mr. Sawyer assures me the child is strong enough to travel, we will remove to my house in Sidmouth.”

Mrs. Harville was in a corner of the room, where she had led the newly acquainted Lily-Anne and Ben to a basket of wooden blocks. Ben took up a cube and handed it to Lily, who set it on the floor and reached for another while Ben began amassing his own stockpile. The toddlers content, Mrs. Harville returned to the Darcys.

“The undertaker has collected Mrs. Clay.” She sighed. “Poor dear! But I have heartening news, as well. I may have found a wet nurse—Mrs. Logan, a young widow whose husband served as a midshipman under Captain Harville. They were married scarcely a twelvemonth when Mr. Logan died, leaving her in the family way and with little on which to live. Her lying-in was a few weeks ago—a tiny little girl, smaller than Mrs. Clay’s child—and sadly, her baby died the day before yesterday. I went to see her this afternoon and broached the subject of nursing Mrs. Clay’s son. She is amenable, but we did not discuss particulars. I thought the business arrangements would be more properly handled by the child’s rightful guardian, but was not certain who that might be. When I returned home, Mr. Elliot was here and said he would take the child.”

“Indeed, someone must look out for the little fellow,” Mr. Elliot said. “It is the least I can do for his mother.”