Chapter 20
"Emma, where is your mother?" Mr. Darcy asked as Emma blew in the door, clutching a tiny kitten against her chest.
"I think she is still with one of the tenants. Mrs. Porter's mother took a turn for the worse and Mama brought her some food." Emma tried to sneak on her way to her room.
"And Emma, you know what your mother said about more animals in the house, you already brought in a rabbit and a baby bird this week."
"But Papa, Joseph found him out in the garden under a bush, he's too little to make it on his own, and his Mother is gone," Emma's brown eyes pleaded more eloquently than her words as she held up the tiny bundle of black fur.
Mr. Darcy sighed, the first sign of his relenting and Emma quickly took up her, or should we say the kitten's case again. "He won't be any trouble, I'll take care of him, and as soon as he is old enough he will go back outside," she promised as solemnly as ever a nine-year-old could.
"Very well" Mr. Darcy agreed "but you know we will not be bringing them all to London with us, and tell me, when is that bird going to go out? He's been driving the servants out of their minds with his constant chirping."
"It's called singing!" Emma called, hurrying upstairs to find a bed for her new little patient, "and don't worry; I'll figure something out." Emma couldn't bear to see anything in pain or trouble, and so was doing her best to right all the little wrongs she found at Pemberley.
Her parents felt just as bad as Emma when a baby bird fell out of a tree and was being played with by one of the cats, (well, maybe not quite as bad) but sometimes those things happened. Mrs. Darcy had been quite patient with all the little friends, except for the skunk that is.
Emma found Mittens a warm bed by the fire, calling to one of the passing maids to please stoke it up, before hurrying down to the kitchens for some milk.
"Mrs. Hamley, may I have some milk please?" she asked the head cook.
"Miss Darcy, you already had your snack, this wouldn't be for one of them little animals you have in your room would it?" Mrs. Hamely asked suspiciously.
"You wouldn't deny a poor orphaned kitten a little milk would you?" Emma asked.
"I reckon as long as it's just a kitten that's alright" Mrs. Hamley agreed, moving about the kitchen to get the requested snack. "I suppose you'll want it warmed up, will you?"
"Yes please." Mrs. Hamely might seem a bit gruff, but she was a kindly soul, who would stand by any Darcy to the death, especially Bennet, but then that little charmer was most everyone's favorite.
Mrs. Darcy came in not long before dinner looking weary, as she allowed the maid to help her off with her outer layer of clothing. "How is she?" Mr. Darcy asked, speaking of Mrs. Porter, a woman that had been a tenant to his father and was now quite old.
"Not well, she has gotten worse, and I have sent for the doctor, though she insisted that I not."
"You look quite tired yourself" Mr. Darcy commented, frowning. "How long were you there today?"
"A few hours today. I need to find one of the girls around who might be able to nurse her for me." Elizabeth said, brushing at a loose curl tiredly.
"How often have you been going?" Mr. Darcy asked.
"Every day for a week now," Elizabeth admitted.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner, I would have found someone else to care for her?" Darcy asked, concerned.
"I know how attached to Mrs. Porter you are, and I was hoping she would get well before I had to tell you. Now I don't think she is going to get well. I feel quite done in, as my mother would say. I believe I will lie down for a little while before dinner."
"I will send for the doctor even if she insists against it, and I will visit her as well if you think it is that close." Darcy tipped her head forward and gently kissed her forehead. "Now, you go and rest," he ordered gently. Elizabeth was not one to take naps, but she did look quite tired, Darcy thought little of it at the time.
He and the children dinned alone, as Mrs. Darcy sent down saying that she would take a little dinner in her room.
The children were all in an excellent mood, and so didn't notice the fact that their father seemed a little preoccupied.
Bennet had spent most of the day playing in the creek with his older brothers, who had taken it upon themselves to dam up a portion of it and had been working busily on the project. As of yet, it was not successful, but it did provide a great deal of mud to be played with. That had been Bennet's job, they had charged him with the task of mixing up the mud for the glue to hold things together. Bennet had taken his job very seriously, and who knows where their dam might be now if Mrs. Darcy hadn't walked by on her way back from the village and seen her messy children out getting muddy and wet in the fall air.
Until further notice, the dam project was put on hold, indefinitely, and the boys were forced to begin thinking of just how they were going to get clean in time for dinner.
"Papa, can I have dessert now? I'm not hungry for dinner anymore."
"Can we go fishing tomorrow?"
"Peter! Use your manners!"
"Who made you the queen?"
"When Mama isn't here, someone has to watch you boys!"
"Girls are the ones that have to be watched!" the teasing and chattering went on around him, the repeated questions forcing Darcy out of his slight worry over Elizabeth not appearing and back to thinking of the children.
"If you can eat dessert Bennet, you can eat more of your dinner." Bennet knew better than to pout and so was faced with the decision of whether to forgo the dinner that he didn't like, and dessert, or eat both.
"It's a bit cold to go fishing, don't you think William?" Darcy addressed his eldest.
"What do you mean?" William asked.
"I mean that you boys usually end up getting quite wet by the time we're done."
"If mama say's it's okay, can we?" Peter piped up.
"I don't play in the water anymore," William said, offended that he should still be considered a child in that way when he was thirteen.
After dinner, the children went into the library to play some games, and Mr. Darcy went up to see if his wife was well. Elizabeth's maid told him she was resting and had asked not to be disturbed. Elizabeth had never denied him access to her bedroom, and it was with some confusion that he made his way to his own room instead.
The next morning Darcy woke early to the sound of a bird down the hall chirping. Usually an early riser, he woke with a crick in his neck thanks to the awkward position in wich he had slept. Darcy dragged a hand down his face, feeling the scratch of a days growth. The unsettled feeling of disappointment and confusion from last night hung about him. He couldn't remember how long it had been since he had not woken up to Elizabeth on the pillow next to his.
Ringing for his valet, he shrugged into his dressing gown. Abrams must have been waiting right outside the door because he was there in a moment.
Dressed and shaved, Darcy knocked carefully on Elizabeth's door, abruptly remembering their first few day and nights as man and wife and the excitement and awkwardness that went with it. Elizabeth had told him he didn't have to knock, but it had taken him a week to break the habit.
"Come in," her voice was muffled. Opening the door, Darcy found her still in bed, unusual at this hour. Her face was flushed slightly and her fine eyes, not their usual bright color.
"You knocked." she too must be remembering.
"Did you rest well?" he asked directly.
"No," Elizabeth held out a hand. "You never came."
Crossing the room, Darcy took her hand, "I was told by your maid not to disturb you last night." he informed her, annoyed his tone sounded slightly hurt.
"I didn't mean you; I meant everyone else. You should have come anyway, Fitzwilliam. I don't ever want to be separated." Elizabeth rubbed her forehead. "Still, it was most likely for the best. I think I've caught a cold and I don't want you to catch it. I was hoping to be well this morning and be done with it."
"Is it serious?" Darcy immediately laid a hand on her forehead.
"Not at all, and you will not worry about me, that's an order." Her skin was warm to the touch but nothing serious.
"If you're sure, but I suggest you stay in bed and rest today."
"No, I haven't stayed in bed a whole day for any cold, and besides I have much to do supervising the packing for our trip."
"We'll just postpone it," Darcy said decisively.
"Certainly not! I won't have our trip disturbed whatsoever. It won't be a problem." and as if to prove her point, Elizabeth got out of bed and rang for her maid.
"I'll meet you at Breakfast in a few minutes Fitzwilliam, do not worry about me, I shall be well in a few days." The husband and wife shared a smile before separating.
The day was long and busy, and Elizabeth's head ached acutely by the time it was over. She found little time to rest between all that must be done to prepare for their upcoming trip. The day was not easy for Mr. Darcy either. The doctor was sent for Mrs. Porter, but he was too late, Fitzwilliam never did get to visit her.
Emma hated carriage rides, well long ones anyway. Still, London was a lot of fun at times. She was looking forward to hearing the new music this season. Last year they had heard some exquisite pieces that she had been able to play. Someday she would make this trip for her own London season. Emma closed her eyes to imagine it for a minute.
Parties, Dresses, dances, balls. Would it be fun, or would it be tiresome? Who could tell, that was so many years away.
"Shall we stop early today?" Mr. Darcy asked conserned eyes on Elizabeth.
"No," she cocked an eyebrow at him, wrapping a little tighter in her shawl.
"Truely you look-"
"Mr. Darcy, People do not die of little trifling colds. Of this my mother is sure. I will be fine." It was a relief to all when they finally reached Darcy house in London. Despite all she had said and convinced herself of it, Elizabeth was ill, and the fact that she went to her room as soon as they entered the house said so.
Darcy saw to the unloading of their things and had them brought inside. The evening was a quiet one at home as the family settled in. Elizabeth spent the next day indoors as well. She got up saying she felt better, but after she was unable to do any reading or needlework comfortably, it was evident that she should return to her room. Elizabeth rested the rest of the day, and Darcy comforted himself with the thought that finally able to rest she would be on the mend tomorrow.
Darcy woke to his wife's restless tossing and turning in the bed. "Elizabeth?" he asked groggily, rolling over and reaching for her. His hand encountered her cheek, and he drew back in shock at the burning heat of her skin. "Elizabeth!" alarmed now, Darcy attempted to wake her.
Only after had he rung the bell for assistance did Elizabeth come round.
"What is it?" she asked, her voice thick.
"Can you hear me? You're burning up with fever, Love," he caressed her check.
"What is it Master?" a tousled maid in her robe appeared in the doorway, holding a candle.
"Have the doctor fetched at once, Mrs. Darcy is ill." Mr. Darcy said tersely, not looking away from Elizabeth.
"I need some water," Elizabeth closed her eyes, rolling her head from side to side restlessly. "So hot...water."
While the frightened young maid hurried away, Darcy got her a drink and carefully propped her up and tipped the glass to her lips. Hushed and nervous voices were heard as the house came alive with frantic order.
Emma's room was the closest to the Master bedrooms, and it was impossible to sleep through the muffled hubbub. "Papa?" the small form of his daughter appeared in the doorway, her white dress making her look somewhat angelic with the moonlight pouring in the window behind her and illuminating the scene.
"Stay out of the room Emma," Darcy turned from where he was kneeling by the bed holding Elizabeth's hand as she moved about restlessly. "Your mother is ill; I don't want you to fall ill too."
"What happened?" Emma was frightened.
"Don't worry Emma, just go back to your room," her father ordered shortly.
His words did little to reassure her and Emma flew down the hall and back to her room where she crawled under the covers and listened to the noises. How ill was Mama? Would she be well soon? Was she sick like Mrs. Porter who had died?
Unable to lie still and do nothing, Emma threw back the covers and tiptoed down the hall to William's room. The door opened without a creak. William's soft breathing could be heard; he was still asleep. Emma hovered in the doorway, uncertain.
"Emma? Is that you?" William asked, turning over, still half asleep.
"Yes," Emma whispered.
"What is it? what's wrong?"
"Mama is sick, the doctor was sent for," Emma said coming into the room.
"How sick?" William asked, coming more awake and sitting up in the bed.
"I don't know, Papa ordered me away, but she looked ill, she was tossing and turning, and he was worried."
"Come up here," William scooted over to make room for his little sister. Emma climbed up. "Papa always tells the truth, Mama will get well, I am sure. But until we know more, just stay here, better than being alone." And it was. Even when the other person has no comfort to give, it is better than being alone.
It was an hour or so before the doctor could come and when he did his news was not good. "It's a good thing you call me here Mr. Darcy." the doctor looked grave as he spoke, carefully putting away his instruments next to the patient's bed. "Your wife has an infectious fever. I would be lying if I said she was not in danger. In fact, I see a threat to anyone who stays in the house, especially the young and old. I would suggest that you send the children away at once so that they will not catch it.