Carrie Bebris - North by Northanger

She rotated the rings of the lock. A-M-O-R.

It opened.

Her heart pounding, she removed the lock from the hasp and lifted the lid. Velvet cushions surrounded a small cylindrical object covered in a soiled, tattered scrap of fabric. She held her breath as she reached inside and carefully lifted the treasure from its cradle. Slowly, she unwrapped the fragile mantle to reveal the Madonna and Child.

She released her breath. The statuette was exquisite, reflecting at once its medieval origins and an ageless veneration for its subject. The ivory captured the Christ child as a boy of perhaps two, offering Mary an apple as she held him. Her face reflected serenity Elizabeth wished she could borrow, and indeed, gazing upon the figurine, she felt a sense of calm envelop her.

Until a jarring voice shattered it.

“I see you have recovered my statue for me.”

She turned so quickly that she almost dropped the ivory. Not trusting herself to keep a firm grasp on the statuette, she set it back in the cushioned box. She then walked toward Lady Catherine so that she blocked Darcy’s aunt from the prize.

“It is not your ivory. Your mother gave it to Lady Anne, who in turn passed it to me.”

“Insolent, grasping upstart! How dare you claim my mother’s heirloom as your own? Your pretension exceeds all bounds of tolerance.”

“And your selfishness surpasses even that of which I had thought you capable.”

“Hand over my ivory or I shall take it for myself.”

Elizabeth had done with her ladyship’s riding roughshod over everyone in her path. Physical discomfort and the day’s events had also rendered her cross in general. Women with swollen ankles should not be provoked.

“Attempt to seize it, and I shall have you arrested for theft.”

Lady Catherine tried to circumvent her, but Elizabeth advanced, her enlarged abdomen leading the charge. Her ladyship retreated, backing through the room’s main doorway and into the chamber beyond. Apparently, having achieved the size of a house held its advantages.

Darcy’s aunt regarded her icily. “You shall regret this, Mrs. Darcy.”

A noise behind Elizabeth momentarily drew her attention. In the pier glass beyond Lady Catherine, she saw Jenny enter the morning room to perform her daily duties. Elizabeth returned her gaze to Darcy’s aunt and lowered her voice.

“I doubt it.”

Her ladyship’s own gaze swept over Elizabeth derisively. “I thank heaven my sister did not live to see what an unworthy creature has assumed her place at Pemberley. She would despise you.”

“I doubt that, too.”

Lady Catherine raised her chin, cast a final, dismissive glance at Elizabeth, and marched off. Elizabeth watched her go until she disappeared from view. Then she went back into the morning room to retrieve the statuette.

Jenny was gone.

So was the ivory.

Elizabeth peered into the box twice — thrice — as if repeatedly looking where the ivory ought to have been would make it reappear. She picked up the scrap of cloth that still lay in the bottom and stared at it. Then she turned in a slow circle, her gaze ricocheting around the room as her bewildered mind struggled to absorb the obvious. Jenny had stolen the ivory.

Jenny, cheerful Jenny.

Deceitful Jenny.

If Elizabeth had felt ill upon discovering the quilt, that sensation was nothing compared to the wave that passed through her now. Her insides turned to water. The pain in her lower back returned, spreading forward into her belly and upper legs. She shakily lowered herself into a chair, but sitting down did not help.

Her thoughts bounced from her discomfort to Jenny’s betrayal and back. Had Jenny merely happened upon the statuette and taken advantage of the opportunity to steal it? Or had she been scheming against Elizabeth and Darcy since her arrival? Was Jenny responsible for the disappearance of other items? The destruction of the quilt? How closely was she working with the Northanger Abbey imposters?

Her pain eased but discomfort remained. She recalled with alarm Lucy and Graham’s mysterious “illness” at Northanger, and that it had arisen after eating a meal the conspirators gave them. Jenny had served her tea earlier. Dear Lord — had she put something in it?

She felt steady enough to rise and pull the bell. Fear for the baby overwhelmed her. Dr. Severn was expected today but had not arrived. She needed help.

She asked the answering servant to summon Mrs. Godwin posthaste, and to locate both Darcy and Mrs. Reynolds for her. As she waited, she clutched the scrap of cloth that she still held in her hand and prayed for her child and herself.

By the time Darcy arrived, she was feeling better. The pain had subsided and she had gained control of her panic. He immediately read in her face, however, that all was not well.

“Tell me,” he said.

The details came out in a rush. “I opened the lock — Lady Catherine found me — While we were arguing, Jenny stole the ivory. Now I feel ill — I fear she may have adulterated my tea.”

Darcy turned white. “Dr. Severn—”

“Has not arrived yet. I have summoned Mrs. Godwin.”

He nodded, still trying to digest all she had told him. “Describe what you mean by ‘ill.’ ”

“Similar to what I experienced in the nursery. I am presently much improved over what I was a few minutes ago.”

“How did the tea taste?”

“Strong. But not unusual.”

“Let us hope Jenny’s treachery ends with theft.”

Mrs. Reynolds entered. “Mrs. Godwin has been sent for,” she reported.

Darcy informed her that both Mrs. Godwin and Dr. Severn were to attend Elizabeth in her bedchamber directly they arrived. He also issued instructions, which he would repeat to the steward, for the apprehension of Jenny. The housekeeper departed to carry out his orders.

He had delivered the commands coolly, but when he turned to her and said, “Let us get you to bed,” she could hear strain in his voice. And when he touched her, his hands betrayed a slight tremor.

Despite her assertions that she possessed sufficient strength to walk — not to mention sufficient girth to injure him — he insisted on carrying her to their bedchamber. Lucy helped her undress while he spoke to Mr. Clarke, and he returned just as she settled into bed. He kissed her forehead and held her hand and said all the things people say when assuring a loved one she will be fine while inwardly fearing she will not.

He studied her intently “How do you feel now?”

She did not want to admit it, even to herself, but she was starting to feel worse again. Just then Mrs. Godwin arrived.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Darcy. How are you today?”

“Unwell.” And afraid.

Mrs. Godwin seemed to grasp her unvoiced reply along with the spoken. She sat on the edge of the bed and took one of Elizabeth’s hands. The other, which yet held the scrap of cloth from Lady Anne’s box, Darcy retained.

She explained her symptoms and the possibility that an unknown substance slipped into her tea might be its cause. Just as she finished, the pain began again. Mrs. Godwin asked her several questions about its location and intensity, listening closely to her replies and putting her hand on Elizabeth’s abdomen. Though the ache was stronger this time than last, with Mrs. Godwin present she was not as frightened as before.

When the pain subsided again, Mrs. Godwin turned to Darcy.

“Sir, find this Jenny to settle any doubt. But I do not believe your wife has been poisoned.” She looked at Elizabeth and smiled. “My dear, you are in labor.”