Socially distanced July 4 meant I was able to get another batch of chapters ready, so here they are!
Chapter 16
Everyone staying at Curzon Street went to church on Sunday, Georgiana included, even though they all tried to convince her to stay home. She did rest for the remainder of the day, but skipping church the day before she was – presuming Dr. Whittling's draught worked – supposed to give birth seemed an inauspicious way to prepare for that event.
Dr. Whittling came the next day at the agreed-upon hour, and after his entrance into the house Mr. Miller ordered the knocker removed from the door. The accoucheur mixed up his draught and Georgiana drank it down, far from the worst-tasting draught she had ever consumed in her life, although not exactly pleasant, either. Then she retreated to her bedchamber, where a large copper tub sat half-full of steaming water. Moll was waiting there to attend her, and when Georgiana looked quizzically at the depth of the water, her maid said, "I'm to keep adding hot water 'till ye can't stand it no more, milady."
Nodding, Georgiana removed her dressing gown and stepped carefully into the tub. Moll left the room and returned with two pails of steaming-hot water, and upon seeing this, Georgiana said, "Oh Moll, this is hardly within what is expected to be your duty."
"Won't be the first bucket I slung, milady, nor the last, I 'spect, once me and Taylor take over the inn. I don't mind," said Moll, overturning the first bucket into the tub, and then the second.
"Still, you shall have a bonus for all of this," promised Georgiana.
Moll made two more trips before the tub was full, Georgiana having no difficulty in standing it. Then Moll left her to stew, and stew she did. She had been irritated by Matthew's non-participation in discussions of land matters, estate matters, during those times they had come up in conversation over the past few days. Irritated both because he himself showed so little interest, and because Captain Ramsey showed so much. Andrew Ramsey was to inherit an estate, but Matthew already owned one, and yet it was Andrew who had thrown himself into learning everything he could about the land, about its management. Of course Andrew had not been through what Matthew had been through, she reminded herself, and yet, as though her mind was overheating just as much as her body, Georgiana found it difficult to focus on this at the present moment. She felt exceedingly irritable, as regarded Matthew, and she was glad it was Moll who sat in a chair against the wall, not him, for if he had been here she thought it likely she would have begun to chastise him. Even now, wallowing in her hot irritation, she had some sense that this was unfair.
Eventually her irritation shifted to Dr. Whittling, for the draught appeared to be doing absolutely nothing. They had called poor Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam in from Hertfordshire, and all for naught. Georgiana stood, scowling, the water running down her swollen belly, her legs.
"Milady, you ought to stay in for longer," said Moll.
"Well, I'm not going to," snapped Georgiana. "And you ought to know it isn't your place to tell me what I ought to do."
It was Moll's expression in reaction to this that made Georgiana realise she'd turned termagant – just as she had before Caroline's birth. The heat from the bath seemed to rise up from her legs, overtaking her, prickling, strange heat, and then she bent over and retched into the water.
"Captain, I need ye!" bellowed Moll, and Matthew burst into the room, both of them helping Georgiana out of the bath as she doubled over, her labour pains beginning. "I'm sorry, Moll, I didn't mean – "
"I know ye didn't, milady, I recall how you was the last time," soothed Moll, rubbing her mistress's back before she proceeded to help Matthew pull Georgiana's wet shift from her body, dry her, and change her into a nightgown. The four-poster bed in the room had been moved into the corner, to make room for the little thin folding bed upon which Georgiana would give birth. When they attempted to steer her towards it, however, she said, "Nay – I am not so optimistic that this will go that much faster. Let me sit in a chair, for now."
And so she was assisted to a chair, feeling much less nauseous once she was seated. Word was passed downstairs that her lying-in had begun, which resulted in the bedchamber filling with persons who would attend her: Dr. Whittling, of course; Matthew and Moll; Elizabeth and Moll's older sister; Catherine; and Georgiana's aunt Ellen and cousin Marguerite. In a way, it was nice to have such support after giving birth to Caroline without any of her family about, but Georgiana recognised the rightness of what Dr. Whittling said: "I appreciate the desire of you all to support Lady Stanton, but this is too many people by half. If the birth goes anywhere near so long as her first she will be up overnight, so perhaps I might recommend you organise yourselves in shifts. You are her abigail?" he asked, addressing Moll.
Moll replied that she was.
"And you, I recall you from Mrs. Darcy's bearing young Charles. Kelly, isn't it?" he asked Sarah Kelly. He received a nod and a murmured "Yes, sir," in response.
"You have a strong constitution?" he asked Moll, and someone – not Moll – snorted in a most undignified manner in response to this.
"I do, sir," replied Moll, a quirk of her countenance indicating she was of a mind with the snorter.
"My abigail is Mrs. Taylor," said Georgiana, "and she did most of the work in delivering Caroline. She is Kelly's sister."
"Ah, good," he replied. "Nothing so useful as a good, steady abigail in such times, and nothing so difficult as a fussy one, or worse still, one faint of constitution – trying to deliver a child and the woman who's supposed to be helping her mistress fainting at the sight of it. Tippett will join us later, but I'll want one or the other of you two in the room at all times."
The sisters nodded, Moll's countenance far more indicative of her agreement with what Dr. Whittling said than her impassive sister's. There was some whispered conversation between the two of them and the other ladies in the room, as they all sorted themselves into shifts and then communicated their plans. Lady Ellen and Marguerite would attend Georgiana for the day, along with Sarah Kelly; Elizabeth, Catherine, and Moll would attend her overnight. The only constant would be Matthew. Even Dr. Whittling indicated he would take time to rest, so as to be ready whenever the baby finally came, but although Matthew had been through much since the last time Georgiana had given birth, one look at his countenance made clear that this had not changed: he would not leave her until it was over.
Thus it was the entertainments of Marguerite and Lady Ellen that Georgiana experienced in that first day of her labour, the pains a little more substantial than they had been with Caroline, but the os uteri – according to Dr. Whittling – still far from where it would be at birth. Their conversation was light-hearted, just enough so to be irritating to one such as Georgiana, who found her capacity for irritation so oddly expanded when she gave birth. Her love for Lady Ellen and Marguerite prompted her to hold her tongue, however, and seek to find what enjoyment she could in what they spoke of. What gave her most enjoyment, though, was how close it seemed the two of them had become, how Lady Ellen had once again gained close female companionship within her family.
It grew late in the evening, and Georgiana was eventually convinced to lie down upon the folding bed, her pains growing gradually worse but not progressing much faster than they had with Caroline. That child was the cause of the greatest disturbance of the night, for suddenly her sobbing could be heard in the hallway, and Rachel McClare rapped on the door. Since the arrival of her cousins and George Nichols in the nursery, Caroline had held little interest for any of the adults in her life. As it had not in Cavendish Square, it did not bother her that the boys were older and larger than her, and as for those boys, they had no qualms about including a little girl in their games, for she had functional legs and arms enough to do most of the things they enjoyed.
Georgiana had hoped they would continue to distract Caroline through her mother's lying-in, but it appeared the distraction had not held, and while Caroline was generally a very reasonable little girl, when she wanted one or both of her parents, she wanted them immediately. Matthew brushed his wife's cheek with his fingertips and said, "I'll go see to her."
A few minutes later, he carried in a sobbing, sniffling little mess of a child and said she would not be consoled by anyone other than her mother. He set Caroline down on the bed, the child taking whatever scant space she could claim beside Georgiana and lying down, facing her mother. She did not question why her mother was thus, and when she spoke it was that same loquacious gibberish Georgiana had heard her use with Matthew, the most recognisable words being "mama," "park," and "Amewia," but by her tone Georgiana was beginning to sense that Caroline had been to the park recently.
"Did someone take you to the park today, Caroline?" she asked.
"Uncaw Will," replied Caroline.
"Great-uncle William? Or uncle Fitzwilliam?"
"Uncaw Will, no uncaw Fitz."
The sound of several people stifling giggles followed this pronouncement, and Georgiana thought Fitzwilliam was fortunate that none of the people in the room were those most likely to tease him over being termed uncle Fitz. His reprieve was not likely to last, though, unless Caroline suddenly proved able to pronounce Fitzwilliam.
"Is Lord Stretford here, then?" asked Georgiana, glancing to Matthew, whose eyes softened just the slightest, just enough for her to notice.
"Yes, and it is good for he can keep Lord Brandon company while Edward makes your brother soused with brandy so he will not worry so much," said Marguerite.
Giggles could not be stifled at this, but Caroline, unhappy at having lost her mother's attention, made a firm grab for her chin and proceeded with what seemed a description of her day in the park, with made-up words substituted for any real ones she did not know, which was many of them.
Georgiana nodded and made a short reply when it seemed this was expected of her, and they continued on in this manner until Caroline's eyelids began to droop and Georgiana ceased replying to her, which allowed the child to fall asleep. Georgiana kissed her forehead – she was about to bear another child, but oh, how very dear Caroline was to her, how very hard she had fought for this little girl!
Lady Ellen, Marguerite, and Sarah Kelly left her at the agreed-upon hour, replaced by the new shift. Perhaps because of the hour, perhaps because they understood Georgiana had little desire to speak, Elizabeth and Catherine were generally quiet, while Moll sat in the corner, sewing. Georgiana had been too agitated during Caroline's birth to manage to sleep, but she did attempt and succeed at dozing off some few times as the night progressed, her sleep punctuated with dreams that were shallow variations of her present situation – she was in labour, but Dr. Whittling could not be found, the bed could not be found, her child was born and a perfectly healthy girl, but nothing could be found to cut the cord tying the infant to her mother.
She had no idea how quickly or slowly time passed, in that night. On the ship Caroline, the bells every half hour had told her precisely this, but here there was not even so much as a clock within earshot that could serve as her tell-tale. She drifted to sleep again, a little more deeply this time:
Bermuda, Bermuda. When had she ever been to Bermuda, but in a dream, a dream of another life? Yet there she was, standing on a quay at the Royal Dockyard, staring at two ships that had made their best attempts to destroy each other: HMS Caroline and USS President.
No, she opened her mouth to scream. No, I cannot be here, I do not belong here, this is not my world, not my life. But then there he was, Captain Stanton, limping down the quay, the arm of his uniform coat pinned up, no human flesh to fill it. He smiled to her. How very young he looked, how very happy – despite all he had lost – how very confident!
"They are sending me back to England," he said, "So I may escort you home, Miss Darcy. We will travel on a warship, but there was no difficulty in arranging a cabin for you. I hardly think there is anything I could have asked for that the admiral would not have granted me, after such a victory."
"Will – will you be given a new command, instead of the Caroline?"
"If I am, I will decline it, so that I can retire with you to Pemberley."
But you cannot manage Pemberley! She wanted to cry out, but did not. But Caroline is the dearest name to me!
He took her to an inn, a very fine inn, and arranged separate rooms for each of them, escorting her up the stairs to her room and then leaving her at the door. She slept – she must have, although she could not recall it – and then the next morning dressed herself as best she could and made to go down to breakfast.
She was not three steps down the hallway before she found herself grasped from behind, an arm below her bosom and another over her mouth. "Did you think you could be rid of me so easily, Mrs. Wickham?" asked the only man who would ask such a thing. "I am not done with you, Georgiana."
Georgiana woke screaming and flailing, shocking her attendants into panicked action until she felt herself enveloped by two – two, thank God – of Matthew's arms. "Shhh, it's all right, dearest. Just a dream. It's just a dream."
She wanted to ask him how he could say thus to her and still be so affected by his own dreams, but it was not the time. At present she needed the reassurance she wished she could have given to him.
"Her water's gone," observed Moll. "Mrs. Ramsey, could ye tell the doctor? It'll go quicker, now, and we'll need to change her and the bedsheets."
Catherine took no issue with being given orders from Georgiana's maid, and exited the room at nearly a run. In truth, Georgiana was glad of this; while she loved Catherine as a friend, at present she would rather be surrounded by those who had a goodly degree of experience with birth, and she could not say she was disappointed when Dr. Whittling, Sarah Kelly and her aunt Ellen entered the bedchamber, and Catherine did not return.
Georgiana laid there, in her fresh nightgown on the fresh sheets, to sharply increasing pain. It helped that Dr. Whittling was exceedingly professional and confident about matters, lifting her leg to check on how far the os uteri were dilated, then asking for her permission to make that still more discomfiting check, which at least brought with it the reassurance that the baby's head was indeed coming first and all was well. He emerged from under the sheet and told them it would not be more than half-an-hour, now.
Then came the unfortunate return of Caroline's whimpering outside. Someone opened the door and the child scampered in, trailed by the apologies of Mrs. McClare. Now, it seemed, she sensed her mother's distress – perhaps it had even been Georgiana's screams that had awakened her – and it distressed her, too.
"Mama!" she exclaimed, but unlike last night she had no more words, seeming confused to find her mother in such a state.
"Mama is having another baby, sweetling," gasped Georgiana. "In a little while I hope you will have a younger brother or sister, even younger than your cousin Charles. Won't that be nice?"
"Mama," and a pitiful countenance, was the only response she received.
"Caroline, why don't you go ask your uncle Fitzwilliam to show you the horses in the mews? Would you like to see some horses?"
"Uncaw Fitz?"
"You can see a pony, even," said Elizabeth. "Your uncle Fitz has brought down a very nice pony named Buttercup to live here in London for pony rides when little boys and little girls want them, and I bet if you ask him nicely he will take you for a pony ride."
"Is poor old Buttercup to live out the remainder of his years in a London mews?" asked Georgiana indignantly, for the moment distracted from her pain.
"Nay," said Elizabeth. "I made the same protest I expect you wish to, and Buttercup will be kept at Longbourn whenever we are not in town. There was some difficulty in negotiating the terms of his stabling there, as my father was not willing to accept a regular fee. So good old Buttercup has the high distinction of having French brandy exchanged for his hay."
"Pony? Bwandy? Uncaw Fitz?" asked Caroline.
"Yes, you dear little creature," said Elizabeth, picking her up and handing her over to Mrs. McClare. "You go with your nurse and find your uncle Fitz and she will help you ask very nicely for a pony ride. I am sure at this hour of the morning no-one will care if you ride astride, and if uncle Fitz makes any objections over that, you tell him aunty Lizzy said he must do it or she will be very cross with him."
"Uncaw Fitz. Pony," replied Caroline, much more content to be carried out of the room. Georgiana made every effort she could to keep her expressions of pain quiet for a few minutes, not wanting the child to hear her cry out, although it had reached the point where she very much wanted to do so. She groaned instead, and Matthew slipped his hand inside his coat and brought out a rolled strip of leather.
"Only if you want it," he said. "I had Hawke get one from Clerkwell."
Clerkwell's name was a reminder that Georgiana ought to be very glad for Dr. Whittling's calm presence as he put his head under the sheet again and said it wouldn't be but a few minutes more, rather than the two squabbling surgeons who had been supposed to attend her last birth, so quarrelsome as to leave Moll to do most of the work. Georgiana thanked Matthew – she had not thought to procure such a thing, but she had found it made the pain more bearable last time – and placed it between her teeth.
"Well that's one I've not seen before," commented Dr. Whittling, upon bringing his head back out and sighting his patient's mouth. "You find it helps with the pain?"
Georgiana nodded and winced. Dr. Whittling had been right, that it would not be but a minute more, and when a greater rush of pain hit Georgiana, he went back beneath the sheet and told her she should push. Matthew clasped her hand and murmured in her ear, "We both know how strong you are," and with this Georgiana bore down and pushed with all her strength. It could not be termed easy, but it was certainly faster and less painful than it had been with Caroline. The babe's lusty cries could be heard almost immediately, and Georgiana sighed in relief, her pain ebbing.
"'Tis a boy," said Dr. Whittling. "A fine, healthy boy. Let Mrs. Tippett and I finish things here and then you may see him."
A boy. Georgiana removed the leather from her mouth and silently handed it to Matthew, weeping as she did so. He returned it to his coat and then laid his hand on her cheek, his eyes silently meeting hers, clearly understanding her thoughts at that moment.
Mrs. Tippett emerged holding the baby, and Georgiana's first reaction upon seeing them was to cry, with every affection, "Oh, he is so little!"
Elizabeth had come up holding a damp cloth scented with lavender, intending to wipe the sweat from Georgiana's brow, and looked rather pale as she said, "That – is not little."
Then the little – or not – bundle was laid down upon Georgiana's chest, and she could have no more thoughts for Elizabeth. Here was her son – their son – the boy who would have been a baronet, but was not. He would be someday, and oh, how Georgiana prayed in that moment that she would see him an adult. An adult, but not a baronet. Let him say good-bye to his mother before he gained the baronetcy; she did not think she could bear losing his father a second time, even in old age.
She held him there until she felt the faint pains of the afterbirth coming, and then handed him off to Matthew. It passed quickly, and then Dr. Whittling spent a very long time examining it before placing it in the basin provided to him by Mrs. Tippett, and pronouncing, "'Tis all of it. I shall return in an hour to check on you, and I will want someone in the room with you until this time tomorrow. I should be informed immediately if there is any change in your condition."
Georgiana nodded and thanked him. Most of the others left with him but Moll remained, to help her up from the folding bed and into another nightgown. She was not so sore as she had been after Caroline's birth, but still needed Matthew to hand the baby over to Moll, so he could help her up into the larger bed. Moll left them after this, and Matthew laid the infant down upon his mother's chest, drawing up a chair beside the bed so he could sit with them.
She unbuttoned her nightgown and positioned the infant near her breast, but he seemed content simply to lay there upon her bare skin. Georgiana smiled, in a sort of pure maternal contentment that had been denied to her after Caroline's birth, when she had been too exhausted to fully feel her happiness. It was more than that, though; it was that this boy would know his father, that they were all there together.
"How are you feeling?" Matthew asked, softly.
"Much better than after Caroline. I suppose the first is always the hardest, but I am very grateful right now for Dr. Whittling's draught."
"As am I – I hate to see you in such pain, dearest." He sighed. "Georgiana, I know things have been – difficult – and I am sorry. You deserve better. Our children deserve better."
"Things will get better, in time," whispered Georgiana, tearily ashamed of her unjust thoughts earlier. Her pain was over, but by his countenance it was clear his continued, and that it was intermingled with guilt. Then she felt the tiniest little hand upon her breast, nature having finally led her son there. She helped him into position, and when next she looked up at Matthew, the grief and pain had been replaced with paternal fondness.
"What would you wish to name him?" he asked.
"I had – I had intended Matthew – before."
He shook his head. "Not Matthew."
"It must be William, then," Georgiana said, naming what she had intended to be the boy's middle name, when she had thought it would just be her to name him. "I am fond of your older brother, but I will not have anything else. Not after Caroline's christening."
Before Lord Stretford's admission, it might have been his preferred name as well, but even now he nodded and said, "I understand, and I think in time I will be glad of it."
Little William suckled his fill, and then drowsed upon his mother's chest. Although Georgiana had been awake for almost a day complete now, she had no desire to follow her son into slumber. Having missed these moments of very early life with Caroline, she wished to experience them with her son. And thus when a soft knock at the door was followed by cries of "Mama! Mama!" in the hallway, she was still quite awake to see Fitzwilliam and Caroline enter.
Caroline located her mother quickly and scampered over to the bed only to stop short at the sight of her younger brother. Her eyes widened, her mouth opened, and a look of such extreme puzzlement overtook her countenance as to render her completely adorable.
"Come closer, my sweetling. This is your baby brother, William." Georgiana caught her own brother's eye as she said this, caught the understanding there. Fitzwilliam was rather a lot of name, and Georgiana thought she could count on one hand the people she knew who actually called him that – a group that did not include much of his family, including his own wife – but William would be both for him and Lord Stretford. At her time of choosing it, she had not thought it would be so fraught with complexity in the latter man's case, but where her brother was concerned, she was confident he would be pleased.
Caroline stepped closer, until she was by her father's chair and could be hoisted up onto his lap for a better view of her infant brother. Her next manoeuvre surprised them all, for she used Matthew's lap as her base from which to clamber up onto the bed and engage her little brother in a staring match he was ill-equipped to win. He opened his eyes and looked briefly at her, then closed them again.
"Baby?" asked Caroline.
"Yes, baby," replied Georgiana. "Baby William. Would you like to touch him? You can if you are very gentle."
Caroline nodded, and carefully put her hand on the top of the baby's head, feeling the downy hair that was very much like her own, in her first weeks of life. Then she withdrew her hand, looked over her shoulder and said, "Uncaw Fitz, pwease lewphey baby Wiwwwim."
Fitzwilliam smiled, and obliged her by stepping closer. "How are you feeling, Georgiana?"
She was prevented from replying by Caroline, who suddenly recalled the very important intelligence she had intended to impart. "Mama! I roded powny!"
"Did you indeed? And did you like it? Would you like to get a pony of your own someday?"
"Yes, mama! Pwease smarbwas powny!"
"We will commission uncle Fitzwilliam to find you one, then," said Georgiana, finally able to look over to her brother and answer his query. "I am well, Fitzwilliam – I am very well."
AN: I know some weren't a fan of Georgiana's nightmares, so I thought it worth noting that this is the only time in the book we'll be "in" them. It felt right to fit them against Matthew's nightmares, and to not leave that plotline completely dangling. You'll see more what I mean as we get further into the book.