Karen Wasylowski - Darcy and Fitzwilliam - A Tale of a Gentleman and an Officer

In thanks, Lizzy squeezed Amanda’s hand and then rested her weight momentarily against the other woman’s supportive body. Having regained some of her composure, Lizzy pulled back slightly to search her face.

“Are you Fitzwilliam’s Amanda?”

Diverted with clearing a path through the debris for them to walk, kicking away a small footstool and then shoving the table away slightly with her hip, Amanda answered without thinking. “No, you have it backward. I am Amanda Fitzwilliam.” Amanda quickly looked up and laughed in her embarrassment. “Oh! Yes, I am Colonel Fitzwilliam’s wife, Amanda, and you know that is the very first time I have been able to say that to anyone.” She was beaming.

“I am Lizzy Darcy.” Elizabeth’s eyes began to tear up with her joy. “You’re American, did you know that? What am I saying? Of course you know that. I sound like an idiot. We’ve been expecting you”—Lizzy hugged Amanda warmly—“just not today.” Then, just as suddenly, Lizzy doubled over in pain.

“Forgive me for stating the obvious, but I do believe your labor has begun, Mrs. Darcy.”

Elizabeth swallowed hard and shook her head, her body beginning to quake. “I cannot be in labor, because, you see, I have it on good authority from my physician that I am not due to deliver for another four weeks. These back pains I have been experiencing all week are false. Evidently they are the product of my overly educated female brain.”

She stopped to press a hand against her mouth. “But truth be told, I am a bit apprehensive, Mrs. Fitzwilliam, a bit overwhelmed. I am beginning to think he has been wrong all along.” A sudden sob escaped her before she regained her poise. “You see he never listened to me nor examined me, never even acknowledged how large I had become when I questioned him. My only solace was that he had engaged a noted midwife.”

“Well, there seems to be distinct evidence that your doctor has miscalculated, Mrs. Darcy. May I ask where everyone is? You say a midwife is to be here? If she is not already in residence, someone should be collecting her immediately.” The quiet in the house was fast becoming oppressive. Amanda hadn’t seen any servants, and there had been no candles lit in the foyer and no footman at the door.

“Many of the servants have gone home to their families, celebrating Boxing Day. The midwife is terrified of Mr. Darcy’s ranting and will not come until she is assured that the doctor is also here. The doctor refuses to be in the same room with my husband a moment before it is necessary. My sister-in-law has run off and abandoned me, and last but certainly not least, Mr. Darcy and I have had a disagreement, and he left in great anger.”

Elizabeth halted her rant for a moment to wipe tears away with the back of her hand. She pointed at the doorway. “You see, he broke my door there, barged in like a drunken madman.” Lizzy choked on her sob. “God, I love him so.”

Amanda looked in amazement at the door frame. “My stars, Mr. Darcy did that? It’s hard for me to imagine him losing his temper at all. He is such an elegant gentleman.” Another pain caused Lizzy to unexpectedly bend over, nearly toppling Amanda with her sudden shift in weight. After a moment, she relaxed, and they continued their slow progress.

Upon reaching the bedroom, Lizzy sat down heavily on the edge of the Darcy family’s massive heirloom bed and resumed her attempts to tamp down her unbridled fear, watching as Amanda pulled off the counterpane and top sheets. Her voice, when she next spoke, was shaky. “Well, Mrs. Fitzwilliam, it is indeed a pleasure to meet you. Please tell me something of yourself. Do you have family here? You should have used our home for the ceremony, you know. The more I think on it, the more disappointed I am becoming. Richard and William are closer than brothers. You would think…” Elizabeth gasped and doubled over with pain, almost falling to the floor. Spasm after spasm of throbbing agony was washing over her, covering her, overwhelming her senses.

Amanda stooped down before Elizabeth and gathered up her hands. “Mrs. Darcy, have you at all begun to time your contractions?” she asked gently. Lizzy shook her head no, clinging tightly to Amanda’s hands. The fear she had so desperately been trying to hold at bay was finally beginning to overtake her.

Little Harry stood at the doorway, transfixed, fascinated by the scene unfolding before him. Clearly this was one of those moments that Colonel Fitz had told him about, those moments in a gentleman’s life where he must care for the welfare of his ladies. He slipped his hand from the distracted maid’s and walked purposefully up to his mother. He crouched down, holding his knees tight, and stared intently, first into his mother’s face and then into Lizzy’s. “Is Mrs. Darling unwell, Mama?” He squinted, examining Lizzy’s face closely, deciding what he saw there could not be good. He was greatly concerned, worried about her weakened appearance. Suddenly he shouted into her ear, “ Did the Frenchies do this to you, madam ?!” Lizzy turned a surprised look at him and then at Amanda.

“We are having a bit of a problem with the concept of the French,” Amanda explained to her quietly. She turned to her son. “Dearest, despite what the colonel says, French people are not responsible for all the pain in the world.”

Harry’s eyes rounded as he stared back at her, clearly registering his doubt as to that statement. He then looked behind them on the carpet. He tugged on her sleeve. “Mummy…?” he whispered.

“Dearest, why don’t you wait for Mummy in the other room. Mary, could you please take him out to the sitting room?”

“But, Mummy,” he whispered again, anxiously.

“Mummy is very busy at the moment, sweetheart. Go with Mary now.”

“But, Mummy, look. Mrs. Darling has wet the carpet. Will she be in trouble? Oh, I hope not. She’s not well. Will Mr. Darling make her sleep outside like Grandmama makes Ruffles?” His eyes were wide with concern, and he placed a protective hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder. Again, he shouted into Elizabeth’s ear, “ I say, will you be in trouble? Please do not be afraid. I shall protect you.” He lowered his voice and turned back to Amanda to plead for leniency. “I don’t think she meant to do it, Mummy. You see, she is not feeling at all well. I think she must be very old, poor dear.”

“Oh fiddles.” Amanda had not heard Harry’s rather rude comment about Lizzy’s advanced age. Amanda had been staring where her son was pointing, at the large water stain on the carpet. She looked back at Elizabeth.

“Mary,” she called over to the maid. “Go downstairs and get someone from the household up here immediately. Look everywhere. Please take Harry into the next room. Harry, you will remain in the sitting room, and you will behave like the wonderful boy you are, all right, my angel?” The maid grabbed Harry’s hand but remained motionless, staring wide-eyed as Lizzy struggled with her growing fright.

“Mrs. Darcy, I am afraid that, early or not, your baby is coming quite quickly.” Amanda helped Lizzy off with her wet underclothes then to lie back on the bed, placing pillows beneath her head. She ran to a cupboard and grabbed sheets from within.

“After you bring someone up here, I want you go back downstairs and wait for Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mary, do you understand? Are you listening to me?”

The maid began backing out of the room. “I’ll just take Sir Harry with me now, mum.”

“No!” Amanda felt a sudden apprehension. “Please just settle Sir Harry into the adjoining sitting room and leave him there, where I can see him.” At her maid’s raised eyebrows, Amanda almost succumbed to the urge to shout. “Give him that Mother Goose book from my valise to read and then go and wait for the colonel downstairs. Harry, you will wait in the next room and read aloud to Mrs. Darcy and me. That will help Mrs. Darcy very much. Do not stop reading—read very loudly, Harry, until the colonel comes for you!”