Author's note:
It was hard for me to find a fitting trigger warning for this chapter, so if you have suggestions, I will appreciate them very much.
JA
CN/TW: Military conflict, trauma, discomfort / amputation / childbirth
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Weeks came and went, making clear that the peace and quiet of de Bourgh house was over. Lady Matlock, General Fitzwilliam, Mrs Darcy, and even Georgiana Darcy were frequent visitors, sometimes even bringing little Michael Darcy with them.
With his four years Michael was in the middle between Alexander and Sarah, and the two boys became friends instantly, very much to the displeasure of Sarah. She, too wanted her own friend.
Just as often as the extended Fitzwilliam family visited Anne and Desdemona, they were invited either by the Darcys or the Matlocks. Anne practically bloomed under the attention she received, finding more and more pleasure in having company. Otherwise, their circle was limited, due to their continued state of mourning.
In February, Mrs Evans felt that it was time to move into her own house again, something of which Anne would hear nothing.
Desdemona however had lived long enough as mistress of her own household to not enjoy being a guest for so long. Finally, in early March, the Evans family left de Bourgh house to live in their own house again, with many promises to keep visiting. Of course, their house was not as grand, and especially the children complained that there had been so many more adventures to get into at "Aunt Anne's" house. However, the Evans family house was situated in a not quite fashionable, but upcoming neighbourhood, and had a reasonable size. Deep in her heart, Desdemona was relieved to live in her own house again, and to be able to receive her friends again, many of whom had had scruples to visit at a house as grand as Anne's.
Slowly, Anne and Desdemona's relationship became less marked by Anne's dependence. Anne was by no means shallow brained, and once she began to enjoy the freedom that taking an active role afforded her, she practically absorbed every little piece of common knowledge which came her way.
Not sharing a house helped this development along, and by the time the Evans family had again completely settled in their own home, and received Anne as a visitor for the first time, Desdemona had just as a good friend in Anne, as Anne had in her.
The visiting to and fro continued between the Pratt, Darcy, Matlock and Evans houses, even though Desdemona had secretly expected that Lady Matlock would drop the connection, now that she no longer lived with Anne.
Upon reaching Rosings, Lord Matlock and Mr Darcy did indeed find the estate in a sorry condition, and set to work rigorously. Many of the servants had obviously cheated on their mistress and were let go, and supreme efforts had to be made to bring the house to its former state. Just as many heads rolled outside the main house, and it was necessary to lay out quite a sum in order to bring the tenants over the winter without major difficulties.
For a moment, Anne was thrown back into her old helpless self when told that she would have to interview for a housekeeper at Rosings, but between them, Mrs Darcy and Desdemona set her straight again.
"But I do not know any housekeepers!" Anne wailed.
Desdemona and Anne looked at each other.
"You know at least one," Mrs Evans answered patiently, as one would a child.
Anne looked at her blankly.
"Mrs Evans speaks the truth. I have seen one in this very house," Mrs Darcy put in.
"Mrs Thomson? I do not want her to go to Rosings, besides, she said she would not stay very long any more because she feels old enough to retire." Anne answered, perplexed.
"True," Desdemona conceded, "but I think we were discussing who would know some suitable candidates, or at least how to find them."
She and Mrs Darcy silently agreed that Anne needed to find the answer herself.
"Well, I might ask Mrs Thomson. She might know somebody." Hoping for approval, Anne looked at the other women.
Mrs Darcy smiled. "That is exactly what we were saying."
"But how do I know which candidate will be best suited?" Anne asked, again close to desperation.
"Well," Mrs Darcy put in, "when I have to make a decision on something I know next to nothing about, I try to find someone who can teach me."
Anne looked at her for a moment, a contemplative look on her face. "Do you think Aunt Matlock would be willing to help?"
Mrs Darcy and Mrs Evans exchanged a wide smile. Anne was thinking on her own again.
Lady Matlock was applied to, and with her expertise coming from decades as mistress of an estate, the matter was soon settled. Mrs Milton was sent to Rosings and set to work immediately, sweeping through house and servants like a new broom. Lord Matlock and Mr Darcy were extremely grateful for her efficiency.
The matter of a steward was harder to settle, and Anne agreed to have her uncle and cousin select two candidates whom would be invited for a short interview with Anne in London.
Until a trustworthy steward could be found, Lord Matlock and Mr Darcy were almost constantly on the road between London and Rosings, until Mrs Darcy joked that she could not remember when she had last seen her husband without a greatcoat.
Come May, the matter of the steward was finally settled, just as London began to empty as more and more of the ton relocated to the country.
It was an uncommonly warm summer, the air in Town was almost unbearably sticky.
On such a warm, humid day in July, General Fitzwilliam had accompanied his cousins to visit Mrs Evans. It had been decided amongst Anne's cousins that they would be Marianne's cousins, too because it was easiest.
Desdemona's children had been restless all morning, craving a cleansing thunderstorm just as much as the rest of London. As even little Marianne fidgeted in her pram, the adults decided to brave the heat and walk to a little park not far from the Evans home, in order to give the children some space.
They took a basket with them, containing a blanket and some lemonade, as well as some fruits and sweet treats for the children.
Upon entering the park they were lucky to find a shady spot on the grass, directly under a huge lime tree, offering some much appreciated shade. With the help of the children, Desdemona spread the blanket, and after sitting down General Fitzwilliam and Anne spread the food.
Alexander and Sarah, however, were not to be made sit still to partake in the refreshments, so Desdemona allowed them to run and play soon after they had arrived. With a warning word not to stray out of sight of the lime tree, they were sent off.
Little Marianne was placed on the blanket as well, the baby began to explore her surroundings soon as she had just begun to try and crawl on her belly. She did not yet cover much ground, however, and was a constant source of laughter for the adults.
At some point, Anne remarked with lightness that she had never before sat on the ground, and that she enjoyed it quite a lot. This made the General recount some of the pick-nicks he had had at either Pemberley or Matlock with his brother and Darcy. Soon, the two cousins were reminiscing about the times when the tree rumbustious boys had visited Rosings.
After some time the heat took its toll, and the little society became sleepy. Marianne had long since fallen asleep in her mother's lap, and Anne, with her back leaning on the thick tree trunk, had become very quiet herself.
Desdemona and the General kept the conversation going for a little longer, but then, too became engulfed in the stillness of the day.
A while later, the General began to shift uncomfortably where he was perched on the ground, even though he tried not to. It could not be very comfortable for him to sit without the possibility to lean against something, and he had gallantly surrendered the place at the trunk to Anne. After sitting some time in a rather clenched attitude, his discomfort was growing even though he tried not to show it. Desdemona pretended not to notice, but decided to take pity on him.
"Anne, General Fitzwilliam, would you be amendable to a short walk? I have sat still for too long a time, and just like the children I need some exercise."
Anne demurred, but the General agreed gratefully. Desdemona took her time to rise, as she saw that the General had some difficulties getting up. The laces of her shoe needed to be redone in any case.
The sun had lost nothing of its power during the time they had spent in the shade of the tree, and Desdemona was glad that she had brought her straw bonnet. In the face of the summer heat, the General had opted to wear civilian clothes today, but he seemed to be rather warm under his hat, too.
General Fitzwilliam offered his right arm to Mrs Evans, and the two of them set out in silence. He led her to a small path that would, after passing some flower beds very much in need of water, round the whole park and bring them back to the lime tree were Anne was waiting with the children.
They made some small talk, but did not speak of any thing of real importance, when they were interrupted.
"Nurse Evans! Nurse Evans!" came a call from somewhere to the side of them, where another, much larger group was assembled under a huge tree.
They halted, and Desdemona looked intently on the man coming towards them.
"Brown!" she called out in surprise, and began to walk in his direction. "Brown, what a surprise to meet you here! How have you been?"
They had reached each other now, and the man called Brown executed a bow as well as he was able. His left leg ended just above the knee, and he was walking with crutches.
"I am well, Nurse Evans. I am very well."
"Plain Mrs Evans now, Brown. I should call you Mister Brown, too! Both our military days are well over."
"That they are, that they are. I heard about Dr Evans, I am very sorry, madam."
"It is all right, Mr Brown, it has been some time. Oh," she suddenly remembered the General at her side, "please meet my good friend General Fitzwilliam. General, this is Mr Brown. He was with the - regiment, where my husband was responsible for the medical services."
The men bowed, and Mr Brown, slightly in awe of the General, said haltingly, "will you come over to the tree yonder, and meet my family? My sister is there, together with our sister-in-law and the children. You know, my sister's husband died in Spain, together with his brother. We have tried to keep the family together since then. There are other women with us, we all have lost a brother or a husband in Spain"
Slowly, they made their way over to a group of women and two dozen or so children of various ages. Space on the blankets was already rare, but the families sat closer together to make room for the two newcomers.
Upon their introduction General Fitzwilliam noticed that Mrs Evans's name must have been known among the family, as she was instantly treated with a great deal of respect. He did not speak much, and felt very keenly how the children regarded him and his mangled face. The women, however, did not stare like the women of the ton usually did, they accepted him just like Mrs Evans had. He suddenly realised that all of them must have seen disfigured men coming home from the war, some might even have relatives who bore the marks on their body.
The General relaxed a little at the thought that, here with these people, he was no curiosity.
As he did not participate much in their conversations, he had enough time to listen to and to watch Mrs Evans interact with the women. They talked mostly of their children and other household woes, that at first seemed petty to the General. After some time he realised however that these families possessed next to nothing, save mouths to feed. None of them could afford to run over to the apothecary for a powder or some such.
As the conversation developed, his admiration of Mrs Evans grew. She managed to give advice where she thought it would be appreciated, freely commiserated with mothers whose children had gotten into scrapes, and casually examined some of the numerous children along the way.
Even the General managed to see that they were not very well fed, but at least they did not look starved. By and by Mrs Evans suggested remedies for all kinds of little ailments, without once being officious. She had a way to lace it into the general conversation that would not cause affront.
After a little while Mrs Evans and the General excused themselves with the hint that their own party would be wondering where they had gotten themselves to, and set off.
"Mr Brown seems to think the world of you," General Fitzwilliam commented when they had regained the path.
"We have gone through very much together," Desdemona answered.
"Where you present when... he..."the General broke off, at a loss as how to continue.
Desdemona smiled, but quickly became earnest again. "When his leg was taken off? Yes, I was." A wry smile played around her mouth, which the General could not quite explain.
"Please excuse me, I find it still hard to get used to... speaking to a woman of such things. With such candour, I mean."
"It is all right. I realise that I am not like most women of the ton."
"That you are, indeed, not."
"Mr Brown's leg healed very slowly, as the circumstances under which it was taken were far from ideal. He became a constant inhabitant of our hospital tents, and travelled on a cart with the other patients. You see, we were cut off from other regiments for some time, so we could not have those who would no longer be fit for battle brought to the coast. Thus, we took them with us, rather then leaving them behind."
"Most Colonels would have decided differently."
"Oh, Colonel Richardson most definitely did decide differently, but Dr Evans would have nothing of it."
"Your husband stood up to his commanding officer?"
"Oh yes, he did. It was a terrible night, when the Colonel announced his intention to leave the wounded behind with some tents and some supplies once they found the next village. Dr Evans almost got himself court-martialed for talking back at him, but in the end he won. Henry saved dozens of lives that night." A wistful note had crept into her voice.
"You were very attached to your husband, I gather." It was not quite a question.
"Henry and I were very close friends. We of course had our differences, but we were well suited for each other."
"So you loved him?"
"Henry was a passionate physician, the best of fathers and a good husband, but no. There was deep friendship between us, certainly, but no love."
"Yet you followed him into the war."
"I did not want to be left behind. I had no immediate family left in London, and he had already begun to train me as a nurse." Desdemona shrugged her shoulders.
"So it was a marriage of convenience."
"In a way, it was. Though it was a good marriage."
"Would you consider marrying again?" General Fitzwilliam could hardly trust his ears when he heard himself ask this question. He had tried to find out more about her and her connection with the people they had just met, and now they were talking about such an intimate subject.
Desdemona sighed, and turned her head away in order to survey the park. "I would never marry for convenience again, and Henry made sure that I would not have to. He knew me well. No, if I married a second time, I would only marry for the deepest of love. Very romantic, do you not think?" she asked lightly, when the General did not answer.
"So how come you were present when Mrs Brown's leg was taken off?"
"I was often present when my husband performed his operations, as I assisted him. But this night was different. I was with a couple of men, searching the battlefield for survivors after nightfall. The battle was over, but we knew that the French were not gone far. We found a few wounded soldiers, Mr Brown amongst them. He had lost much blood, but was conscious when we reached him. Finally we decided that we had picked up more men than we could carry, and tried to make our way back to the regiment. When we reached the forest, it started to rain heavily, and the night became foggy. Suddenly everything looked the same, and after a very short time, we had no longer any concept of where we were or where we were going."
She let her gaze wander over the sunlit park, but shivered as if she felt clod rain on her skin rather than the heat.
"We stumbled over a hut, probably a woodcutter's or a poacher's hideout. Be that as it may, the hut offered shelter to all of us, even though it did not contain anything by way of provisions, except for firewood. At least, we would not have to be cold. Mr Brown's condition became worse and worse, soon he spoke in fever. He was mostly unharmed, but his left shank was practically smashed. He told me later that something had blown him off his feet, and when he came to again a panicking horse pulled a canon wagon over his leg, he was hit by both the horse and the wagon. In the hut however, he was not in a state to say anything, and it was clear that the leg had to come off. There was no way this kind of damage could be repaired."
Desdemona drew in her breath, no longer in the park with her companion.
"But I had nothing with me. No scalpel, no bone saw. Only a needle and thread for some hasty stitches, should any of the men require them in order to be able to reach camp. We found two axes with broad blades in the hut, and I had a sharp dagger on my body, that was all. The men were just as afraid as I was, but they trusted me. They said if there was any body who could save Mr Brown it was me."
Again she paused, seeing something in her mind that was invisible to the General.
"I did not believe them, but I could not just let the man die, either. At least I needed to try something, anything, to help his condition. One of the men had somehow brought a rather big flask which was still quite full, and we instilled a liberal dose in Mr Brown. I told the men to build up the fire and laid the axes' blades into the flames that they might be cleansed. I asked several men to sit on Mr Brown's body and limbs, and another one to hold his head down, and began to wash his injured leg with the alcohol. We even found a splinter to squeeze in his mouth so that he would not bite his tongue off." Mrs Evans's voice sounded empty now, the General noticed, the usual animation she displayed when she talked was completely absent.
"I cut the skin with my dagger which I had also rinsed with alcohol, and took one of the axes out of the fire. Even today I do not know where I found the brute force, but it was done with two strokes. I pulled the skin over and sealed the wound with the other axe blade which was hot enough by then, and fixed the rest up with some stitches."
"You saved his life that night," General Fitzwilliam said with awe in his voice.
"According to what the men told me later, I finished the stitching, calmly thanked them for their help, asked them to come off Mr Brown and then suddenly broke down in tears."
"Very understandable, under the circumstances."
"I cannot remember much of the rest of the night. I know that they put the flask on my lips several times, but it is all a blur. Morning came, and even though the rain had not stopped there was light enough for orientation. We were actually quite close to the camp, so we made our way back in no time. I was in a trance, the rain tasted salty and only very belatedly I realised that I was still crying. Back at the camp, I went to our tent and curled up on my bed, without even taking my shoes off."
"Mrs Evans..."
"You see, General Fitzwilliam, I am no heroine. It took all day to become myself again."
"What about Dr Evans?"
"He came looking for me hours later, when he had attended to all the injured men, as many of the search troops had been late due to the rain. Henry told me that I had done everything right, that he himself could not have done better under the circumstances. His words did not help at first, but gradually they sank in."
Nothing was said between them, until Desdemona exclaimed, "oh, I see we have come back to our tree," while her children came running towards her. The black mood her tale had brought down on them was suddenly lifted, and the sun made the world shine brightly again.
Because he was older and bigger, Alexander reached her first, and she knelt down to hug him. Impatient as every boy at his age, he soon squirmed and wanted to be let free. Sarah was there, too now, and her mother took her up and swung her around. The little girl giggled.
As his mother no longer gave him any of her attention, Alexander grabbed the General's hand and began to pull him towards the blanket. Apparently, there were a couple of treasures to be duly admired. Desdemona followed suit a little slower, with Sarah on her arms. Somehow, seeing the General dragged over the grass by Alexander stirred her heart.
They did not stay for long any more, as the heat now took its toll. The children who had been enjoying the exercise became tired and cranky, so the adults decided to leave. Soon they were packed together and on their way. All three of the children were tired and fussy, so Mrs Pratt and the General went home directly.
In the carriage, Anne held a sleeping Marianne on her arm and looked intently at her cousin.
"So you have met Mr Brown," she said, stirring the General from his thoughts.
"You know him?" replied he in surprise.
"Desdemona told me about him, a while ago, when we discussed her experiences in Spain."
"She has certainly seen much. More than I ever thought a woman could handle. Did she tell you that she was present when Mr Brown's leg..."
"Was taken?" Anne answered. "Do not look at me like that. I have learned a lot about life over the last months."
"I had not realized you had learned to be so candid."
Anne gave a tiny snort, but otherwise did not comment.
They rode the rest of the way in silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts.
–
When the heat finally abated, society life in London slowly recommenced. The town began to fill with people, they came hesitantly at first, but suddenly London was busy again.
As they had made the transition to light mourning in summer, Anne and Desdemona went out a little among society. Mrs Darcy invited them both to one of her soirées, Anne's first apparition in London society. Of course, she was much discussed among the gossip mongers of the ton, but this did not keep the women from going out.
For the first time in her life, Anne could make full use of the opportunities her fortune and pedigree offered her, and she enjoyed it. While she rejected the opera after just one visit as "boring caterwaul", she liked the theatre very much and made all her family and friends go with her regularly.
Balls and greater parties were not yet allowed, but that was well as Anne had never learned to dance. They spent many agreeable afternoons at the Darcy's house, with either Mrs Darcy or Georgiana playing the pianoforte and the rest of them taking turns with Anne.
Mrs Darcy's season was rather short this time, as she was with child again. The newest addition to the Darcy family would be due in early January, but began to show rather distinctly in November. Yet, Mrs Darcy stayed in London for Georgiana's sake, as the younger woman still needed a little bit of support during the season.
Early in December, Mrs Darcy had invited the Fitzwilliams, Anne and Desdemona for a family dinner, and announced over coffee that she would finally be leaving town.
"Mr Darcy has me convinced that now is the best time to go, as the roads are still passable even up north," she said with an arch smile on her face.
Her husband's worries were clearly written on his face, so Desdemona could not but agree with him. "Mr Darcy is correct," she therefore said, "your condition does not make travelling any easier. You should go when there is the least trouble to be expected."
Lady Matlock nodded her agreement.
"And there I hoped for some female support," Mrs Darcy sighed in an exaggerated manner, her eyes twinkling. "But you must know," she added, leaning in consiprationally, "that I made Mr Darcy consent to my Christmas plans in return." She interrupted her speech to throw an impish smile in the direction of her husband, who stood some way off with his uncle the Earl. "Under severe pressure, he finally allowed that I invite you all for Christmas at Pemberley! I will have some society!" she cried triumphantly.
"Oh, Christmas at Pemberley! I always longed to see the snow and everything. Cousin Darcy told me of it often when he visited us at Rosings." Anne was all for the idea.
"And you, Mrs Evans, will you be coming, too?" Mrs Darcy turned to Desdemona.
"Oh please, do come!" Anne excitedly seconded the invitation.
Desdemona hesitated. "I would not want to intrude on a family Christmas celebration," she finally said.
"Oh, posh! You are not intruding," Mrs Darcy brushed her objection aside. "Bring your children, Michael will be thrilled."
"If it is no trouble-"
"Then it is settled," Mrs Darcy interrupted any further protests. "You can leave London with Anne shortly before Christmas. Let us say on the 18th or 19th of December. This will give you enough time to make the journey with the children, and yet you arrive early enough to properly settle down before Christmas."
Desdemona laughed. "I see you have it all thought through!"
"Oh yes, I have. I love Pemberley, but I also love the society to be found here in Town. My family from Hertfordshire will come for the new year, as I cannot go to them. We will be a rather big, merry group." Mrs Darcy practically beamed at the prospect, her husband seemed to accept his fate with grace. It was an open secret that Mr Darcy was no friend of big, merry groups.
–
The journey north was pure torture for Desdemona. Marianne showed a strong dislike for longer carriage rides, Sarah and Alexander were soon bored out of their wits and Anne was as excited as the proverbial child on Christmas Eve. She would never sit still, her nervousness did nothing but spur the children's fidgeting along.
So it came that, when they finally reached Pemberley on a clear December afternoon, nobody was as glad to escape the confines of the carriage as Mrs Evans.
Pemberley was a welcome relief from the cold of the winter landscape. The house was warmed by many fires and brightly lit by innumerable candles. They all received an exuberant welcome from Mrs Darcy, who awaited them in the parlour as Mr Darcy had not allowed his wife to come out in the cold, and from Georgiana, who had stayed inside to keep her sister in law company. Even Mr Darcy was seen smiling a little, when he thought nobody was watching him.
They had nothing more than an informal dinner that night, as the travelling company was tired beyond words. Little Sarah, who had together with her brother and Michael been allowed to dine with the adults, almost fell asleep in her chair.
Shortly before nuncheon was served the next day, the Fitzwilliams entered Pemberley. The round of warm welcomes started anew, and all the excitement sent the children into a frenzy. Fortunately for them all the halls of Pemberley offered just barely enough adventures and secret places to discover that at least the two boys took themselves out of the drawing room as soon as they were bored by the adults.
Mrs Darcy was now very round, her time was obviously drawing close. Desdemona felt with her, shortly before Alexander had decided to come into the world she had wished nothing more than to be able to see her feet again.
The Christmas days were spent peacefully, but not very quietly, just as Mrs Darcy had predicted. On their way home from church on Christmas morning heavy snowfall set in which did not subside for several days. On the third day, however, the skies cleared and the weak winter sun glittered and glimmered on a beautiful white blanket as far as one could see.
Mr Darcy and Viscount Tyndale bundled up the children and took them to play in the snow, just as they had done in their younger days, while General Fitzwilliam, Mrs Darcy, Anne and Desdemona watched from the parlour window. Lord and Lady Matlock were in the music room with Georgiana.
Laughingly, Mrs Darcy rang for more tea when the little group made ready to come back to the house. "Be sure to bring something warming for the gentlemen," she told Mrs Reynolds with a twinkle in her eye. The faithful housekeeper smiled her knowing smile, nodded, and left the room.
A moment after, the men could be heard in the hall with the children, no doubt leaving big muddy puddles on Mrs Reynolds's well cleaned floor. As soon as all outer garments were discarded, the group burst into the parlour with laughter on their lips.
"Mama, Mama!" little Sarah exclaimed, "I made a snow angel! Did you see my snow angel?" Without any patience for the warming tea her mother tried to instil in her, the girl pulled on Desdemona's arm. "Come, look!"
Smiling indulgently, Desdemona followed her daughter to the french doors which overlooked he site of their playing. General Fitzwilliam was already there, staring out into space. Not one to miss any opportunity for praise, Sarah called on him to admire her angel as well.
After both Desdemona and the General had dutifully done so, Sarah lost interest in them and went to join her Cousin Darcy, as she had labelled little Michael lovingly, where he sat by his mother who seemed to tell a story.
For a moment, General Fitzwilliam and Mrs Evans stood in silence, watching dusk fall over the wintry Pemberley gardens. A fresh wind had come up, blowing heavy clouds over the sky which were full of snow. Thick, white flakes had already begun to fall.
"It is well that your brother and cousin took the children out today, it looks as if it was to be the last opportunity for a long time. I wonder if Mrs Darcy's family will make it through the snow in time." The Bennet clan was expected two days from now.
General Fitzwilliam said nothing, but continued to stare at the traces in the snow, which had already begun to vanish. It was snowing harder now.
"It looks," he finally said, "like we are in for a snowstorm. They are not unheard of, here in Derbyshire. I hope the Bennets are not yet on their way."
This comment did not seem to warrant an answer, so they both relapsed into silence again.
"Does your knee bother you very much today?" Desdemona asked after some time, seemingly out of the blue.
Alarmed, the General turned to her, but Desdemona continued to look through the window. She had seen the painful shadow which sometimes crossed the veteran's face when walking. Slowly, General Fitzwilliam turned back to the glass. "I manage," he answered elusively.
"You should keep it warm. I will ask Mrs Reynolds to steep a few herbs and soak a linen cloth in the brew. Bandage your knee with the warm cloth, as hot as you can bear. The warmth will help relax the joint, which will reduce the pain. The smell of the herbs will have a certain calming effect as well."
Still, she was not looking at him, but rather at the growing darkness outside. The murmuring voices and merry giggles of the room behind them seemed to come from another world.
For a moment, the General did not know what to say. He finally decided on, "thank you" and a little bow halfway in her direction.
"You are welcome," Desdemona answered with a slight smile. "If there is anything else I can do..." She let the rest of the sentence hang between them.
"I suppose you cannot make that scar go away," he said dryly.
Desdemona gave a loop sided smile, and for the fist time that evening properly turned to him. As she had come to stand on his left side, she had a good view on his mangled face. He allowed her scrutiny, all the while staring stubbornly ahead.
"No, I cannot make it vanish," she answered finally, very quietly. "I can speak to Mrs Reynolds if you wish, the Pemberley pantry should be able to offer everything I need for a concoction that will help you at least a little. It is made with onions, we often had the chance to apply it back in Spain. As often as I could convince the cook to give up some of his precious onions, that is."
"Will it at least make the colour recede?" The scarring was uneven, and of a darker colour than the rest of his face.
"It will help the process along. A scar like yours takes years until it returns to the natural colour of the skin."
"If at all," the General said stiffly.
"If at all," Desdemona agreed. "I will add marigold and arnica, they will help keep the skin flexible. Otherwise, you might face increasing trouble moving your head."
He finally turned to her, a sceptical eyebrow raised.
"The scarring process never really stops under such a large area," Mrs Evans explained. "Tissue grows and changes all the time, and scarred tissue is always less supple than the original skin. Scar tissue often becomes more inflexible with time, especially when the burn was deep. It was a burn, was it not?"
The General nodded. "It reaches down all the way here," he added, covering his left shoulder and part of his upper body with his right hand.
Desdemona looked at the way he held his walking stick in his left hand, and tried to think back on his movements.
"You already have some trouble moving your shoulder and neck," she concluded.
It was not a question, but the General nodded anyway. "The shoulder itself was dislocated, and I had to keep it still for a long time. Afterwards, the skin was so tight that it hurt at every movement."
Desdemona nodded, this was not uncommon. "We cannot reverse this development, but it should be possible to stop it. Have you not been treated by a doctor when you were back in England? You should have been informed of this before," Desdemona said sceptically.
"I am not a good patient, I am afraid," the General admitted with a humourless laugh. "My parents had me treated by the best doctors in London, and brought me up to Matlock as soon as it was to be reasonably expected that I would survive the trip. There the treatments, the caring and mollycoddling continued, until I fled to Pemberley as soon as I was able. Darcy offered me refuge," he added by way of explanation.
Desdemona smiled, picturing the Countess as a mother hen. "Your parents must have been overjoyed that you survived your injuries," she said. "As a mother I can understand that your parents tended to exaggerate their care a little."
The General laughed quietly, the first real laugh Desdemona had heard from him.
"That is nicely put, very diplomatic. Still I felt smothered. It took me a while to re-integrate myself into life in England. So many things had changed." He fell silent, looking at the window again. It was completely dark outside by now, and the glass reflected the lights of the room.
"Spain was a life-changing experience. The solidarity amongst the soldiers, it was amazing. I think you know what I speak about."
Desdemona nodded again, she, too had been impressed by the spirit of the camp, by what humans were capable of in the face of continuous mortal danger.
"Even before that fateful day, I was a changed man. So many things which were so very significant here, completely lost their meaning in Spain. Somehow, my priorities were set straight."
"Battles tend to have that effect on people," Desdemona agreed.
"However," General Fitzwilliam continued, "at Albuera I really learned what it means when the world is upside down."
"You were at Albuera!" Desdemona exclaimed, her voice shrill.
The General nodded. "This is were I got this souvenir," he explained with a vague gesture to his left side. "Were you there?"
"We were late, arrived after the French had retreated," Desdemona said, her voice flat and her face expressionless. "The battle had been over for two days, and still there were wounded men on the field, lying in the mud." She swallowed hard. "I will never forget their cries, neither the English, nor the French. You know that the French left hundreds of their wounded behind? Perdition cannot be worse than what these men suffered."
"They collected me during the first night. Everything was oddly silent, although I heard other men, the sounds did not seem to belong to my world. I thought I would die, and I cried like a child as I did not want to die. The tears made the pain worse, however, as they flowed down my face, so I made myself stop and take my fate like a man. Hours must have passed, as I waited for death to come, the pain grew worse all the time. Suddenly, I must have been half mad from the pain by then, I realised that I would not die. I knew for certain that this mercy would not be bestowed upon me. That moment, I wanted to die."
His voice was as flat as Desdemona's had been a moment ago, his eyes had glossed over. General Fitzwilliam was far away, had travelled to another place, another time.
"This was when the real suffering began. The night grew colder, and even though the sinking temperatures brought some relief to the burning in my side, I quite soon began to shiver."
With an obvious effort, he shook himself out of his memory, and shot a sidewise glance at Desdemona. "I was not aware that a human being can suffer so much pain, and not die from it," he said, finishing his narrative.
For a moment they were both silent, each pondering their own experiences in Spain.
"What a twist of fate, do you not think? We might as well have met at Albuera," the General eventually said, striving for a lighter tone.
Desdemona smiled. "I probably treated some of your men," she said. "Dr Evans and I hardly ever got in contact with wounded officers, we were responsible for treating the soldiers,"she explained with a smile.
Their reminiscences, however, were interrupted at this point by a ball of swooshing skirts which hit Desdemona at the legs. Smiling widely, she took her daughter on her arm.
"It has been getting late, General. Why, it must almost be time to prepare for dinner!" Desdemona exclaimed. Turning serious again, she said to the General: "Thank you very much, General Fitzwilliam, for sharing your experience."
The General bowed to her in silence, and with a nod she left him in order to bring her children to the nursery and dress for dinner.
–
After dinner, Mrs Darcy decided to retire early, as she tired easily now. Nobody thought anything was amiss, until the usually sedate Mrs Reynolds burst into the drawing room, effectively silencing the conversation.
"Mr Darcy!" she exclaimed, "it is the Mistress. Her time has come!" Nobody moved for a second, stunned silence reigned the room, until every body sprang out of their chairs as one.
"Send for the midwife, and the doctor!" Mr Darcy bellowed in his most commanding voice.
"But sir, the snow! You cannot see the hand before the eyes out there!" Mrs Reynolds objected. "You'd be sending them to certain death!"
The room froze.
"Ask if someone volunteers," the Earl put in when Mr Darcy said nothing. "Tell them that I pay a month's wages as reward to any one of them who dares to ride out in this weather. But do make sure every body understands that this is not a command."
Mrs Reynolds nodded, curtsied, and left the room.
"Why is the midwife not already here?" Lady Matlock demanded to know.
"She was scheduled to arrive on the 27th," Mr Darcy said absently. "My G-d, Elizabeth! I must go to her!"
He had not advanced many steps before his uncle blocked his way. "This is no business for men, son."
"But we have no midwife!" Darcy exclaimed with panic in his voice.
"We have a midwife," Anne stated calmly. She looked meaningfully at Desdemona, who nodded and promptly made to leave the room.
"You cannot be serious!" Lady Matlock screeched.
"She did very well when she delivered me of Marianne," Anne said.
"This was different. There was nobody else, as everything went so fast and-"
"I am not sure if we should discuss this before the men, Aunt," Anne interrupted. "Will you accept my help?" she asked, turning to Desdemona.
"Gladly."
"Well then, Elizabeth will wonder where everybody is."
With that, the two women left the room and the Countess's doubts behind.
–
Elizabeth Darcy lay on her bed, drenched in sweat when Desdemona and Anne entered her suite. It was obvious that she was in pain.
"What is your name?" Desdemona asked a frightened maid in passing, on her way to the bed.
"Betsy, madam."
"Well, Betsy. I need cold water and a clean cloth, quickly. And fetch the wooden box on the dressing table in my room, will you. Go now!" She added, when the maid did not move instantly.
"Anne, help me open the bindings of her nightdress. Mrs Darcy, how are you?" she asked, in a much softer tone.
"Mrs Evans? Anne?" Elizabeth seemed confused to see them.
"Yes, Mrs Darcy, we are both here. We will take good care of you." While talking, Desdemona tried to judge the overall state of her charge.
"But, the midwife..."
Desdemona shot a glance at Anne, who promptly answered, "we are in the middle of a snow storm, Elizabeth. Mrs Reynolds has sent for the midwife, but she has not yet arrived." Desdemona looked at her approvingly, urging her to go on.
Before anything else could be said, however, Mrs Darcy was seized by a mighty contraction and cried out in pain.
At the same moment, Betsy came back and almost dropped the basin she was holding.
"Put the basin on the bedside table, the box hand to me," Desdemona demanded without looking at her. "Anne, wipe her brow, her face, her neck, her chest as far as you can reach down with her nightdress on."
While she spoke, she put the wooden box on the floor near the foot of the bed and then moved to lift the covers.
"Mrs Darcy, I will examine you now, please try to relax."
"NO!" Elizabeth shouted, drawing her legs up. "You cannot-"
"Stay calm, Elizabeth. Desdemona here happens to be an experienced midwife."
With big eyes, Elizabeth Darcy looked at Anne, who smiled. "Who do you think delivered me of my sweet Marianne? Besides, she helped many women on the Peninsula."
Elizabeth turned to Desdemona for confirmation, who nodded with a serious look on her face.
"This is true, Mrs Darcy."
Another contraction interrupted their conversation.
"Well then," Elizabeth panted, when it was over, "do what you must."
Desdemona lifted the blankets again, pushing them up till they were collected around Elizabeth's midsection. Very carefully, she pushed the nightdress up, and asked her patient to draw up her legs and place the feet on the mattress.
What Desdemona found made her frown, fortunately her face could not be seen by the other two women. Gently drawing nightdress and covers back down, she went to the side of the bed and lifted the cover.
"I will feel your belly now, Mrs Darcy. Be not afraid."
Tenderly, she ran her hands over Elizabeth's belly, prodding here a little, and pressing there a little.
"Betsy, bring a tea tray for all of us," Desdemona ordered, when she rose from the bed again. She brought a chair to the side of the bed, and sat down.
"Mrs Darcy, you are at the very beginning. When the pains come, let them wash over you, they are yet short in duration and long in coming. Do not push, we still have time. If you feel a need for exercise, Anne and I will help you get up."
Mrs Reynolds entered with the tea tray at this very moment.
"Walking around a little helped the late Mrs Darcy very much, when it was her time with the Master," she said, placing the tea tray on the bedside table. "I have told Betsy to stay in the kitchen in case we need her. This is too much for the poor thing," she added and then began to prepare cups.
Desdemona helped Mrs Darcy to sit up, and Anne helped her with the tea cup. After enjoying the calming effects of the tea, Elizabeth wanted to get up, and they helped her out of bed. Slowly, Anne and Desdemona paced the room, supporting Elizabeth between them.
Hours passed in this fashion, with tea and gossip, and slow turns about the room. In between, Anne and Desdemona still wiped Mrs Dracy's face. Mrs Reynolds quietly bustled about the room, always stoking the fire, replacing candles or ordering new tea.
Gradually, Mrs Darcy's sojourns through her bedchamber became shorter, the contractions came with less and less time between them, and grew more painful.
"I think we are getting there, Mrs Darcy," Desdemona said when they helped Elizabeth back to bed again. "You should not stand up any more now. Things are progressing nicely."
Some more time passed, until Desdemona again took a look under Elizabeth's nightdress.
"Mrs Reynolds, help me to pile the blankets, so that Mrs Darcy can be comfortable. Are there any more pillows? We can use them to support her legs."
After a few minutes of hectic activity, Desdemona told Elizabeth, "Well, Mrs Darcy, I want you to push when the next pain comes. Let it flow over you, and then when it is at its peak, use your own strength to add to it, you understand?"
Elizabeth nodded, suddenly with fear in her eyes.
"You have done this before, Mrs Darcy, I am sure you will do perfectly well now," Desdemona continued in a calmer tone. "Anne, take care of your hand, when she-" Mrs Evans was interrupted when Mrs Darcy screamed at her next contraction.
"You were saying?" Anne asked, kneading the hand Elizabeth had held, in order to relieve the pain the woman's grip had caused.
"Oh, it is not important any more," Desdemona said absent mindedly. "Mrs Darcy, this was very good. Next time, you simply do the same again."
They waited long for the next pain to come, long enough for Anne to fall asleep.
There was a knock on the door just when it had passed, and Mrs Reynolds went to answer. There were short murmurings of a male voice, and Mrs Reynold's answering whisper, before Lady Matlock entered.
With a smile and a nod at Desdemona she went to the chair that sat now empty at Elizabeth's bedside, and took her niece's hand in hers. "How are you, dearest?" she asked. Anne, rudely awakened by Elizabeth's contraction, took up wiping Elizabeth's face again.
"Anne," Desdemona said suddenly, "you look tired. You should go, you need some rest."
Anne stubbornly shook her head. "I am sure I do not look any more tired than you do. I will not leave Elizabeth now!"
"Anne," Lady Matlock interfered, "I think Mrs Evans is right. You are dead on your feet!"
"But Elizabeth-" Anne tried to protest, but was interrupted by her own yawn.
Desdemona smiled. "See? Your aunt is here now, she will stay with Mrs Darcy." The last was said with her eyes fixed on the Countess, who nodded. "Of course I will stay."
"Is there really nothing I can do?" Anne exclaimed, "I am sure I will not be able to find sleep with all this excitement going on. Where are the men?"
"The men are down in Darcy's study, doing what men are supposed to do when a woman is in labour," Lady Matlock answered. "It was my husband who brought me to the door, he intended to ask for news." Desdemona smiled at the picture of Darcy pacing his study while Lord Matlock, Viscount Tyndale and General Fitzwilliam, ostensibly supporting the father-to-be, became slowly more and more drunk.
Anne looked a little confused at her Aunt's words.
Lady Matlock sighed impatiently. "Which means, Anne, that you should leave them to their brandy."
Anne snorted in frustration.
"Where is Georgiana?" Desdemona suddenly asked, just as the next pain rolled over Mrs Darcy, as if to remind them of the reason why they were all here.
"I do not know," Lady Matlock said, taking the wiping cloth our of Anne's hands, and applying it liberally. "She left the drawing room shortly after you did."
Desdemona smiled, while placing her hands on Elizabeth's belly. She wanted to feel the next pain.
"Why do you not go and look for Georgiana?" She suggested, "the poor thing must be halfway frightened our of her wits. After all, she is the only one of us women who has not yet given birth."
"A very good idea," the Countess threw in, with an approving nod at Desdemona.
"Well then," Anne said, resigned to her fate. With a few encouraging words, she took leave of Elizabeth and went to find her youngest cousin.
"With a little bit of luck," Desdemona said to the Countess, "they will somewhere fall asleep together."
They did not continue their conversation, as a new contraction announced itself.
Desdemona felt Mrs Darcy's belly tighten under her hands just as it should, everything was going well.
After many more contractions had passed in the same manner, without having any noticeable effect on the state of affairs, Desdemona grew slightly nervous. The pains were intense, with only short intervals between them. Mrs Darcy should make good progress, but there was none.
If she continued at this rate, she would be in a veritable storm of contractions soon, with no effect at all. This was going to be dangerous.
In between contractions, Desdemona began to feel Elizabeth's belly more carefully. Her findings, together with the frequency and intensity of the ineffective pains, confirmed what Desdemona had feared from the beginning: The child's position was not correct.
"Mrs Darcy," Desdemona said with a calm she did not feel, "have you felt any pains prior to this evening?"
Lady Matlock looked at her a little askance, but Mrs Darcy answered. "No, there were none."
"Did you have them when your time with Michael drew near?"
"Yes," Mrs Darcy panted, just as the next contraction came around. The child's position was indeed not correct.
Lady Matlock began to suspect that something was not at all as it should be, but thankfully kept silent, she only sent a questioning glance in Desdemona's direction.
Ignoring the knot which had formed in her stomach, Desdemona ordered Lady Matlock to sit behind Elizabeth on the bed, and support her upper body to a half-sitting position.
With a bark, Mrs Reynolds was ordered to bring plenty of warm water and fresh cloths for wiping. This not being the first birth of a Darcy the old housekeeper was present at, she had everything prepared.
Desdemona propped up the pillows which supported Elizabeth's legs again, and positioned the blanket so that Mrs Darcy and Lady Matlock could not see what she was doing. There was no way to get the little one into just the right position from without, so it must be done from within.
"Help me out of my dress!" she commanded the housekeeper, who was so shocked by the request that she promptly did as she was told. When Desdemona had stripped down far enough that her arms were completely exposed, she went to the wash stand and thoroughly washed her hands and arms with Mrs Darcy's fragrant lavender soap.
Afterwards, she crawled on the bed, so that she came to sit between Mrs Darcy's feet. The woman in question, thankfully, was too caught up in her pain to notice anything was amiss, the last they needed was the mother-to-be to panic. Lady Matlock however, started to speak, but Desdemona silenced her with a shake of the head and a telling look at Mrs Darcy.
The Countess nodded, not at all set at ease, but prepared to keep silent in deference to her niece's state.
Said niece's labour had become very draining now, rapidly depleting her strength. Pains came now five or six times in every ten minutes, still without any noticeable progress. Mrs Darcy would not be able to keep this up for long.
After a good look at Elizabeth's nether regions Desdemona closed her eyes and gently felt her way. Elizabeth's eyes widened in shock, but Desdemona's hand was in instantly when the contraction ebbed.
Slowly, she pushed her arm further up, until she thought Mrs Darcy's eyes would pop out from shock. However, the next contraction came before she could say a single word, painfully constricting around Desdemona's arm.
"What... are... you... DOING!" Mrs Darcy panted, exhausted. At least, Desdemona's action had revived some of her strength.
"Shhh, Mrs Darcy," Desdemona said. "All is well. This little one is slightly capricious, that is all." Her voice was soothing, a stark contrast to Mrs Darcy's indignation. Mrs Darcy, however, was not at all calmed by Desdemona's tone of voice, it rather served to agitate her more, which was exactly Desdemona's intention. With all her powers, she must prevent that Mrs Darcy succumb to the weakness that had already started to stealthily overcome her.
By whatever it takes...
Elizabeth spat out a torrent of curses that clearly impressed Lady Matlock, but only made Desdemona grin widely. She had heard worse from the camp followers in Spain, in fact she had picked up quite an arsenal herself, in more than one language.
Predictably, Desdemona's grin only made Elizabeth more angry, which in turn made it grow bigger, while its owner felt her way in the darkness.
Desdemona had just gotten hold of an arm, when the next pain rolled by. Biting back a cry, she held fast, and slowly felt her way up to a tiny shoulder. If her guess was correct, the baby had turned halfway down, and was now stuck across, instead of lying face down.
Patiently she waited through the next contraction, panting. Come tomorrow, her arm would be a study of bruises.
She got a hold of the infant's neck until she had to pause again, and then was able to determine which was the backside of said neck.
After the next contraction she slowly began to pull the head down, using her free hand for massaging Elizabeth's belly upward where she guessed the rump of the little one must be.
Four or five contractions later, she had the child in a position that felt more natural, which was a good thing as she could hardly feel her fingers any more, when they did not happen to be infused with pain during a contraction.
"Well, ladies, I need your help."
By now, Elizabeth was barely conscious, but was kept afloat by Lady Matlock's constant stream of encouragements.
"Mrs Reynolds, open my box here. Yes, and now hand me that small object on the very left side. Thank you," she added, when the housekeeper handed her a small, but dangerous looking knife.
"Mrs Darcy," Desdemona continued without taking note of Mrs Reynolds gasp of fear, "this will hurt a little now."
Elizabeth still had the energy to give a derisive snort which Desdemona would have laughed at, had not been lives at stake. They had entered the critical phase now.
Gathering all her concentration, Desdemona first eased the baby's head into a quarter turn, withdrew her hand and then performed an episiotomy during the next pain, so that there would be more room for the child. She could not yet be sure whether she had brought the baby into the exactly right position. It did feel good, however, to see that her hand was still attached to her arm. She had not felt its presence there any more lately.
"We are almost there, Mrs Darcy. I need you to help the little one along now. When the next contraction comes-" here they were interrupted by just such an occurrence, "I need you to bend forward as far as you can while pushing. Relax and lie back against your aunt when the pain fades. Do yo understand me?"
Elizabeth only nodded weakly, without making eye contact.
"I asked, do you understand!" Desdemona bellowed, all gentleness gone from her voice now. "Answer me!"
"I understand," Elizabeth panted, promptly seized by a contraction and doing exactly what she was told.
Desdemona felt the baby move. Finally. She only allowed herself a very little bit of relief, however, the worst was not yet over.
"You can do better than that, Elizabeth!" she barked, "push harder!"
The next few minutes passed with a lot of shouting and barking between Elizabeth and Desdemona, in the course of which Lady Matlock and Mrs Reynolds were presented with an impressive torrent of curses by both participants.
With her mouth set to a grim line, Desdemona finally watched a little head make its way out with the next contraction, safely lading in Desdemona's hand.
"Yes!" she heard Mrs Reynolds exclaim, "the head! The head is out!"
Lady Matlock laughed through her tears, but Desdemona would not allow relief yet. "Stay with me, Elizabeth! Stay with me! It is not over yet, you must push again. Yes, that's it, harder! And again, harder! Come on!"
She continued in this vein, hardly pausing for breath until the feet of the child finally slipped out.
Desdemona threw a perfunctory glance at the baby in her arms, and not noticing anything amiss for the moment, severed the cord and held it up. Being a very well-behaved newborn, the infant instantly began to cry.
Without further ado, Desdemona held it out to Mrs Reynolds, only saying "Wash it," in turning back to Elizabeth.
"We are not yet finished, young lady!"
However, the afterbirth came out after a few more, less painful contractions; It looked healthy as well as complete. With a few quick stitches Desdemona fixed up the cut she had made earlier, using some of the supplies in her box.
Now, and only now did Desdemona allow the wave of relief to wash through her, which she had held back since she had first felt the baby move in the right direction. She smiled, a real and true smile this time.
"You did it, Elizabeth. You did it."
Tears of joy streamed down the faces of the three ladies sitting in the bed, and for a moment Desdemona indulged herself and let their joy surround her. She pulled herself together soon, however, and began to clean herself as well as she was able. Childbirth was a messy business.
Lady Matlock slowly extracted herself from under her niece, and helped wash Elizabeth and pull the fresh nightgown over her head, which Mrs Reynolds had thoughtfully prepared.
When every messy piece of cloth had been removed, Mrs Reynolds handed a little bundle to her mistress, just as the first light of the new day crept over the horizon.
"It is a girl, Mrs Darcy," she said, blinking back tears.
Elizabeth accepted the little one, and stared at it in wonder. "She is so beautiful," she breathed, awed. "Is she all right?" with fear in her eyes, she looked at Desdemona who just stepped into her dress again.
"She is absolutely all right," was the answer. "Just as tired as you are, and probably very hungry." she added, as the baby again put her voice to good use.
"The nursemaid was scheduled to arrive on Tuesday," Elizabeth said with a frown on her face. With determination in her eyes, she began to open the strings of her nightshirt.
Smiling, Desdemona came over to her bed, to sit on the chair next to it. Lady Matlock looked a little sceptical, but did not intervene. There was no other possibility, after all, it was a risk to feed the newborn on anything that could be found in the kitchen. So she simply turned her head the other way, but was too curious to do so for long.
Hesitantly, the Countess allowed herself to join the fascination to see the little one feed.
"Have you decided what you will name her?" Desdemona finally asked, when the baby had had enough.
"No, I will wait until Fitzwilliam has met her. Fitzwilliam!" she exclaimed. "Has he been informed?"
The women looked at each other, until Mrs Reynolds shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "I am afraid not."
–
Down in Mr Darcy's study, the tension was tangible. At first, they had been more than relieved when the painful cries and the shouting had finally stopped, but the ongoing silence slowly but steadily drove them out of their minds.
Dawn had begun to creep over Derbyshire, and still there were no news from upstairs. "I am going to have a look now," the nervous father announced and strode to the door.
He had stated this intention at various points of time during the night, only to he stopped by the one or the other of his relatives. However, nobody tried to hold him back this time. He had just stretched out his hand when the doorknob turned by itself and the door was opened from the outside.
"May I come in?" asked a very dishelved looking Mrs Evans.
"My wife?" Mr Darcy asked, his voice strained when he stepped back to let her pass. The other men stood upon her entrance.
"Mother and child are well, gentlemen," Desdemona announced. "You may go check on them, Mr Darcy."
"Well, he was probably already at the upper stair head before you finished your sentence." The Viscount commented Darcy's hasty disappearance with a chuckle.
"Is Elizabeth truly well?" the Earl asked, his voice laced with concern. "We heard the screaming."
Desdemona smiled at them. "She is very well now, as is her daughter."
The men accepted this piece of news with great relief, and the Viscount began to refill their glasses, also handing one to Desdemona.
"To the newest Darcy jewel!"
"To the newest Darcy jewel!" came the answer of all, and the glasses were emptied.
JA
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JA
JA
Author's note:
Yes, I took a ton of artistic licence with the amputation and the girl's birth. I wrote this chapter several years ago when I only had a very, very vague concept how all of this works, and superficial internet research only takes you so far.
However, I chose not to re-write it, as it somehow fits the story. Besides, the story itself, and thus those particular scenes, is very much a child of it's time (or rather a child of the point in life I was at when I first wrote it.).