Author's note:
JA
CN/TW: mention of childbirth / mention of death
JA
JA
JA
JA
Shortly after, Desdemona went into her room. She had checked on the children and found that Georgiana and Anne had fallen asleep in the nursery, together with their charges. Now she only needed to get out of the sullied undergarments she wore beneath. Hopefully, the dress could be saved.
Without ceremony, Nurse Evans lay down on her bed, and was asleep before her head hit the pillow.
A maid came into the room around tea time, gently waking her up. At first, Desdemona was a little disoriented because she woke on top of her blankets, but soon everything came back to her. She had thrown herself on the bed with hardly a shred on. With a self-conscious glance at the maid, Betsy as she remembered, she gave a little laugh and sat up.
"Shall I help you dress for tea, madam?" Betsy asked softly.
"Oh, yes, please! Are the others already assembled?"
"Not yet, madam. Mrs Reynolds thought you would like to be awakened in time for a bath."
"A bath would indeed be wonderful!"
After a very refreshing turn in the bathtub, Desdemona went to check on Mrs Darcy and the little one.
She found the mother awake, with the sleeping babe in her arms.
"How do you feel?" Desdemona enquired, with a smile in her eyes.
"I am the happiest woman on earth," Mrs Darcy replied, "and also the most tired."
"You had a hard time," Desdemona tried to soothe her. "It is perfectly natural that you should be tired. Does our little girl drink regularly?" Tenderly, she stroked one tiny, rosy cheek.
"She is very hungry. Begrudges her mother even a little bit of sleep, with her appetite!" Both women laughed.
"Anne came by earlier," Mrs Darcy said after a few moments of silence. "She said she was breastfeeding Marianne, too. You convinced her of it."
"Indeed, I did." Mrs Darcy would deserve to know why Desdemona had felt it necessary that Anne perform that particular duty herself, but she would not betray Anne's trust. "I did the same with my children."
Mrs Darcy laughed a little. "I should not be surprised, but I must admit, I am. You look and act every way the society lady. I would not have expected it of you."
Desdemona laughed derisively. "You forget that I was raised to be a society lady. I am a Pratt of Slightfield, after all!" she said in her haughtiest voice. Slightfield was the family estate that had fallen prey to David's extravagance. The Pratt family had been old money, but not very big money.
Mrs Darcy looked insecurely at her, before she decided on a little giggle, in which Desdemona joined.
"Then why ever did you end up married to a lowly physician?" she asked, her voice practically dripping false condescension.
Desdemona's laugh lasted only shortly.
"My mother died... when I was very little." It would do no good to tell a woman in child bed that her mother had died from child bed fever. "Shortly after his year of mourning was over, my father remarried. His family had never really forgiven the decision to marry his little actress directly off the stage, so he tried to assuage them by marrying a lady of both connections and fortune. Needless to say, she was a harridan, one of her first actions was to banish me from her presence, which effectively meant from my father's house, from my home. I grew up with relatives near London, and when my father died in my fourteenth year she deposited my dowry with said relatives and washed her hands off me."
Desdemona paused to take a deep breath.
"How sad!" Mrs Darcy exclaimed, but Desdemona shook her head. "All this happened a long time ago, do not make yourself uneasy on my account. The people I grew up with were related to my father on his mother's side, and although accepted in the ton, did not move in the same circles my father had moved in. Without his championship and a stepmother who would not acknowledge the connection, they did their best to find me a husband in their own circle." Desdemona smiled in remembrance. "And they did well."
Mrs Darcy nodded, an earnest expression on her face. "Were you very attached to your husband?"
"Our marriage started out on mutual respect, more than many a couple can boast of. We soon became the best of friends."
"Friends? I always thought that you followed you husband to Spain out of love."
"There was no love between Henry and me. Deep friendship, trust, and respect, but never love. I followed him to Spain because I was young, and thought the world was at my feet. I wanted to come along on this adventure. Quite naïve, was I not?" she smiled in the end.
Mrs Darcy smiled an indulgent answering smile. "Sounds just like something I would have thought at the age of nineteen," she admitted, which made them both laugh. "But this does not explain why you had no nursemaid for Alexander and Sarah. Did your husband encourage you not to?"
Desdemona shook her head. "Alexander was born on the Peninsula, a few days before we were to board a ship bringing us back to England. We had intended to be home well before my time came, but things were always chaotic. Thus, a nursemaid was made impossible by the circumstances, and Henry would not allow to have him fed on goat milk or such, even had I wished it. In fact, I did not wish it. And when Sarah came along, I would not have it any other way."
"I would insist on breastfeeding, if I could ever have another child," Mrs Darcy said dreamily.
Desdemona looked at her in wonder. "Why should you not have another child? You are still young!"
"I know there were complications," Mrs Darcy looked at the slumbering bundle in her arms, rather than Desdemona. "I did not realise it at the time, you took care of that, but in hindsight..."
"Mrs Darcy-"
"Elizabeth. Last night you called me Elizabeth."
"You still called my Mrs Evans."
"You must admit that "Desdemona" is quite a mouthful!" exclaimed Mrs Darcy by way of explanation.
Desdemona allowed herself a short smile, before she continued with a serious expression on her face. "Elizabeth, all is well now, with the little one and with you. That is the important fact, even the only fact worth considering. No, do not interrupt me. When you are fully recovered, I cannot see a single reason why you should not have more children."
"What happened, Desdemona? I have a right to know."
"Your baby did not lie in the right position. Instead of pointing downward with her little head, she lay across, with her head here." Desdemona gestured to the side of Elizabeth's belly.
"Is that why you...?"
"Exactly. She was stuck, your labour was ineffective. I am sorry to have violated your virtue in such a way, but I had to turn her around."
"You did what you must, she could have died."
"No, Elizabeth, she would have most certainly died. She would have taken you along, too."
Overcome with shock at the close call, Elizabeth began to cry. Desdemona moved to sit on the bed and held them both, mother and child. It took some time until Elizabeth's tears had dried up, but when she lifted her chin, she seemed calmer.
"Have you not thought about cutting the child from my womb?" she asked, very quietly.
"And give you up?" Desdemona exclaimed, "never!" She shook her head violently. "The chances that a mother survives a caesarean section are slim. This had to be my last resort only," she added seriously.
"Thank you for telling me," Elisabeth said, wiping fresh tears away with a corner of her blanket. "And thank you for holding me. I can never thank you enough for saving my life, let alone my darling girl."
Desdemona pressed her hand affectionately. "Please, Elizabeth, think nothing of it. I had the means to help you both, so I tried. I risked much, last night."
Elizabeth shook her head. "No, I will have nothing of that. I will always remember this day as the day you saved my little girl's life, and mine."
"Do as you please, Elizabeth. I only ask you not to name her after me." They both laughed at the prospect.
"And here I thought you'd feel honoured! No," Elizabeth added after bestowing an impish smile on her new friend, "we thought Titania that much more lovely."
Desdemona sighed in resignation. "At least you did not choose Goneril, she said, managing to keep her face straight.
They kept at it for a while, until they made the mistake of looking into each other's eyes. The resulting laughter woke the baby from her sleep, at which she protested audibly.
"So have you decided on a name?" Desdemona asked when the little one had finally settled again.
"Not yet. We cannot agree on the proper number of grandmothers to be included, not to forget her numerous aunts."
"I can imagine!" They both laughed again.
"She is adorable," Desdemona finally said with a look at the infant. She held out her little finger, which the baby promptly grabbed and put into her mouth. Desdemona let her, laughingly. "See, everything is as it should be. Do have more children, if you want," she said, turning to Elizabeth without withdrawing her finger. "I will only recommend that you wait for one year from now, until you get pregnant." At Elizabeth's gasp, she continued, "your husband may come to you as soon as you feel up to it. Just be careful."
Elizabeth nodded slowly. "I promise."
"Well," Desdemona said, gently extracting her finger from the mouth of the as of yet unnamed female in Elizabeth's arms, "I was lured out of my chamber by the promise of tea, I will go down and see if there is some to be gotten." With that, she rose from the bed. "Here, hand me your daughter, I will place her in her crib. You need some more sleep."
Without protest, a fact that spoke for itself, Elizabeth surrendered her daughter to Desdemona who carefully tucked in first the child, and then the mother, before she left the room.
–
A short while later, Desdemona entered the parlour, where she met nobody but General Fitzwilliam.
He greeted her with a bow, but did not answer her smile.
"Mrs Evans," he began after they had taken seats, "there were complications, were there not?"
"General, I do not think-"
"You forget that I have some experience with hospitals, and hospital staff; both as a patient and as an officer waiting for news of his men. I know the look you had on your face this morning. It was relief of the acutest kind, even if you tried not to show it."
Desdemona looked down at her hands, but said nothing. After some moments, she felt the sofa she occupied shift slightly with the added weight of the General. Softly, he placed his hand on hers.
"Am I not right?"
She drew her head up, and sat straighter. "If you are experienced with hospitals and hospital staff especially, you can be no stranger to the fact that a relation between them and their patients is built on trust. I will not betray the trust Mrs Darcy places in me."
"Darcy has been my friend since infancy, we always felt more like brothers than cousins. Besides, you look like a woman who needs somebody to talk to."
"General, you forget yourself!"
Desdemona shot out of her chair, full of indignation. She pulled herself together, however, and tried to calm herself. Without looking at the General, she went to look out of the window.
"Thank you very much for your offer, General. However, you might understand that there are things I cannot talk freely about," she answered with more calm that she felt. After all, what the General had tried was not so very different from what she frequently did.
At this point, they were interrupted by the entrance of Lady Matlock arm in arm with her niece, Georgiana, putting their conversation effectively to an end.
Shortly after, Viscount Tyndale and Lord Matlock joined them, and Georgiana decided to call for the tea things without waiting for her brother. After all, it was very understandable if he preferred the company of his wife and new daughter.
When the tea tray arrived, Georgiana did the honours, under the watchful eye of Lady Matlock. It was clear to everybody who cared to look that Lady Matlock loved her niece very much, and that she did everything in her power to teach her. Apparently, the lesson today was tea time conversation, even if the subject of said lesson was not aware of it.
Later, when the group had dispersed over the room, each of them pursuing their own pleasures, Lady Matlock came to stand next to Desdemona who sat on a sofa, where she had been reading these last half hour. Judging by the chords drifting through the open door, Georgiana had wandered off to her pianoforte.
"Will you allow me a quiet word with you?" the Countess asked, not unfriendly.
"Why, of course", Desdemona answered, and half rose from her seat.
"No, please sit," the older woman said. "If you allow, I will sit next to you, as this place is absolutely suited to my purpose."
At Desdemona's nod, she sat herself down.
"Mrs Evans," the Countess began, "please accept my apologies for the way I treated you yesterday. I ought not to have questioned your expertise, after all no woman in her right mind would volunteer to play midwife, had she not the skills to do so."
"Apology accepted, Lady Matlock. Think no more of it, you were simply shocked, as we others were."
Lady Matlock took a deep breath. "No, if I want you to understand, I have to explain myself more fully. Ever since you came into our family circle, I was wary of you. My sons, and even my husband assured me that my feelings of mistrust were completely misplaced, and unnecessary, but I would not listen to them. Over time, I saw no proof of your supposed malice, and I slowly began to press you into a form, in my mind at least. As long as you did not say or do something which would expose your inferiority, I managed to see you as one of our circle."
"But yesterday Anne exposed me as what I am. A woman with a profession." Desdemona's voice was without passion, but her gaze was sharp.
The Countess nodded. "My perfect picture was ruptured. I am ashamed to say, that I ranted and raved for a while after you were gone, I believe I even stomped my foot once or twice. Finally, my husband who could take no more, seized my elbow and pulled me into the library, where we would be alone. There, he set my head straight, by what means I do not care to remember."
The Countess's glance had wandered around the room while she had been speaking, but now she turned to look at Desdemona.
"Without even noticing, I had turned into my sister-in-law, Lady Catherine, whom I sneered at for the whole duration of our acquaintance. We would have been completely lost without you, yesterday. Although I do not want to know what exactly you did after you made me sit on the bed behind Elizabeth, I am glad that you did it."
Desdemona smiled at the last statement. Perhaps it was indeed better, if Lady Matlock knew no particulars. In cases such as this, one could not know too little.
"I can only repeat, Lady Matlock, I accept your apology. Indeed, I am honoured by your openness. And I am grateful that you joined us yesterday, it was very helpful to have another woman in the room who had gone through the ordeal twice."
"Anne meant well, but she would not have had the strength to support Elizabeth during that last stage," the Countess agreed.
"She would have tried anyway," Desdemona picked up where Lady Matlock had left off, "at her own expense."
"Certainly, she would not have let her cousin down."
"Where is she, by the way? I have not seen her all day."
"She looked in on Mrs Darcy in the morning, and went to her chamber afterwards. Have you been told that she spent the night in the nursery, together with Georgiana?"
"I felt the insurmountable urge to see my children after I left Elizabeth this morning, so I went to the nursery in order to have a peek at Alexander and Sarah. You can imagine my surprise, when instead of four children in their beds, I found four children and two grown women in a mass of blankets on the floor. They slept so peacefully, I did not have the heart to wake them."
A wide smile at the memory played around Desdemona's mouth, the Countess chuckled. "I wish I could have seen them! They must have made quite a picture."
The two women continued to talk in this manner for some time, until Mr Darcy entered the room, bearing something in his arms which looked suspiciously like an infant wrapped in a blanket.
"May I have your attention?" the beaming father asked the room in general.
With wide smiles on their faces, they all collected around Mr Darcy.
"Please meet my new daughter, Helena Frances Anne Darcy," he announced, practically bursting with parental pride.
Laughingly, they all offered their congratulations, and Lady Matlock asked if she could hold her grandniece, for, she said, as none of her sons showed any signs of making her a grandmother, she had to fall back on the smallest Darcy to lavish all her love and care on. Everybody laughed at this, except for the General. He simply continued to watch as Darcy handed a now fussing Helena Frances Anne to the Countess, without outward reaction.
After looking at his beautiful daughter some more, Mr Darcy finally turned to Desdemona. "Will you allow me a few moments, Mrs Evans?" Silently, Desdemona wondered that this was becoming inflationary.
"Of course, Mr Darcy," she answered, curious as to what he had on his heart, for that he had something on his heart was obvious.
He led her to the window in order to afford them some privacy, before he began to speak.
"Elizabeth," he swallowed hard, "Elizabeth has old me of your earlier conversation, and what you explained to her about last night." He looked down on his feet for a second, but then lifted his gaze to meet Desdemona's eyes. "I am not a man of many words, Mrs Evans, nor am I known for elaborate speeches. Please let me simply say that I cannot thank you enough for what you have done for Elizabeth and our daughter. I owe you both their lives. How can such a debt ever be repaid?"
Desdemona began to shake her head, but he forestalled her with a raised hand.
"Please, Mrs Evans, allow me to offer you something, anything in return for your services. If you want for anything which is in my power to give, name it, and it will be yours. If you want, I can offer you-" he rambled on, when Desdemona kept silent. Here, however, she interrupted him.
"Please, Mr Darcy, do not embarrass us both by offering to pay for my services. I did what I must, and I would do it again, if given the choice."
"We named her Helena," he said, looking out of the window again. "A Shakespearian name, in your honour. However, we felt that she would be better served with a name from a comedy, rather than from a tragedy. Do you approve?" He turned back to her, at his last.
"How could I not?" Desdemona smiled widely. "I am honoured. And one fine day, when she is a girl at a difficult age, she will definitely thank you for not burdening her with a name such as mine!"
They both laughed a little at this, until they heard the subject of their conversation cry. Hastily, Mr Darcy strode, for a gentlemen like Mr Darcy would never run, over to where Helena was held by his aunt, he even forgot to excuse himself to Desdemona. Chuckling, she made to follow him at a slower pace, hoping that this would be her last confidential interview with one of the extended Fitzwilliam clan for the day.
–
Owing to the snow, the Bennet family arrived well after the new year. Lord and Lady Matlock, together with their eldest son, Viscount Tyndale, had left for Town after Twelfth Night, but neither Anne nor General Fitzwilliam felt any urge to leave Pemberley for the moment.
Desdemona had voiced some doubt about burdening the Darcys with so many visitors when they surely had other things on their mind, but Mr Darcy contradicted her more exuberantly than she had ever seen him.
Mrs Darcy had come down for a few hours that day, and General Fitzwilliam turned to her to ask if she had secretly bingleyed her husband somehow? The Darcys laughed with him, but Anne and Desdemona only looked at each other, and finally shrugged their shoulders as no explanation was forthcoming.
Everything became clear, however, when the extended Bennet clan descended upon them the very next day.
Mrs Bingley, who was Mrs Darcy's eldest sister, and her husband had spent the holidays with her family in the south, and had their carriage full of relatives when they returned north. They, too were to stay at Pemberley for a while with their children, before they would continue on to their own estate.
The arrival of the additional guests was a veritable pandemonium, which made the women smile, the men flinch and the children even more excited.
Mrs Bingley and Mrs Darcy embraced, but the rest of the greetings was far more noisy. Michael and the Evans children had soon discovered that there was something to be seen in the front hall, so they came bounding down the stairs. Michael greeted his Bingley cousins with a squeal which equalled that of his grandmother when she was told that her second eldest had been delivered of a healthy girl. Mr Bingley was so happy at the news that he was hammering Darcy on the back with a grin that almost split his face in two, all the while pumping his brother's arm.
Out of sheer joy, he treated General Fitzwilliam to the same greeting, not noticing that he knocked the other man slightly off balance in the process. Then he turned to the bunch of children, blindly picked one up, threw it into the air by way of greeting, caught it and picked up the next, tripling the amount of squeals in the hall. Desdemona wondered if he even noticed that he had thus greeted her own children, whom he could have had no chance to meet before.
In the meantime, Catherine Bennet had discovered Georgiana, a meeting which brought around even more squeals. Soon, those two were talking over each other excitedly, thus reducing the general squealing, but not the overall noise level.
Desdemona and Anne were looking at the scene with some degree of amusement, until they, too, were engulfed into a crushing embrace by Mrs Bennet, calling for her smelling salts all the while as her way of expressing her joy. Afterwards, there was no standing by any more for them. Mrs Bennet pulled them into the throng and quickly introduced them to every one and every body she could get a hold of. Including Mr Darcy.
There were two people, Desdemona noticed amidst all the exuberance, who held themselves carefully out of the madness. Mr Bennet and his daughter Mary were standing at opposite ends, but with exactly the same expression of amused derision on their faces, looking on rather than participating.
Many minutes were spent thus, until Mr Darcy, fearing for his wife's health, used his booming voice to invite them all into the drawing room for refreshments.
Nobody actually answered him, but the group moved none the less, as if in general agreement. After some minor tumult it was even possible for everybody to find a place to sit which was to his or her liking, and Mrs Reynolds could enter with her maids to set up the refreshments.
An enjoyable half hour was spent by all, with the possible exception of Mary Bennet, until Mrs Reynolds returned to announce that dinner would be served in an hour. Suddenly remembering that none of them had either refreshed themselves or changed their clothing, the entire Bennet clan jumped up as one. The ever patient housekeeper conducted them all to their allocated rooms, with Georgiana following, holding hands with Miss Catherine.
After some more minutes, when they could be reasonably sure that all Bennets and Bingleys had vanished behind closed doors and had thus vacated the halls, the remaining Darcys, Fitzwilliams, Pratts and Evanses crept out of the drawing room, quickly covered the open ground that lay between them and their chambers, and heaved a collective sigh of relief once they had reached cover.
Dinner was a slightly more subdued affair, as the extended Bennet clan finally felt how tired they were from the journey. Nobody lingered long after the meal.
–
The Bingleys left about a week after they had accompanied the Bennets north, very much to the displeasure of the children. Little Thomas and Rose Bingley had bonded well with Alexander and Sarah Evans, and all of them were fast friends wit Michael Darcy. Even Marianne Pratt, who had just discovered the freedom her newly acquired ability to walk without help afforded her, constantly trailed behind the active group.
Thus, Thomas and Rose were not at all happy to return to their father's estate, where they would have to make do with only themselves for company. Of course, adults did not count as company, least of all one's own parents.
In a rare quiet moment, General Fitzwilliam and Mrs Evans, however, found they agreed in their understanding of the wish for sanity, so clearly expressed in Mr and Mrs Bingley.
By the end of the month, Anne became restless. She had enjoyed the pleasures of Pemberley very much, but now again longed for the distractions of Town.
Around the same time, Mr Bennet found himself drawn back to the seclusion of his own book room at Longbourn, however fine and extensive his son Darcy's library might be.
Thus, a veritable exodus of visitors began, when the assorted Bennets, Evanses and Pratts all left at the same day.
Later in the day, Mr Darcy commented to his wife that everything had gone rather well, did she not think? Even though Mrs Bennet saw fit to praise her second eldest on the birth of a daughter, for where there was fortune enough for dowries one could always seal alliances by marriage, she turned the compliment in the very same sentence by advising her to strive for a spare heir as soon as possible. After all, one never knew what the future would bring.
Mrs Darcy chastised her husband with a thrown pillow, which he easily plucked out of the air.
–
By the end of May, however, Anne could no longer enjoy London, either.
"I declare, I cannot stand another summer in Town like the last!" she exclaimed, plopping herself down on one of the sofas in Desdemona's parlour. "I will not stand for it. We will have to find a place to go spend the summer."
"We?" interjected Desdemona, but Anne ignored her.
"I have not been to Matlock since the passing of my father, Sir Lewis. Would you like to go to Matlock?"
"Anne, are you not being a tad bit precipitous?"
"You have doubts because my Aunt Matlock has not issued an invitation? Do not worry, I will take care of this. Just think! I hear that Matlock has extensive gardens, Sarah and Alex would love to play there. We could even pay a visit to the Darcys."
Quite clearly, Anne had already begun to make plans.
"Anne, even though I do wonder how Lady Matlock will take it that you invited yourself, I cannot come with you."
"Why ever not? Do not give me this "intruder on a family party" nonsense again, I am warning you!"
Desdemona laughed at how much her friend had changed during the last year and a half.
"You forget that this is my home, I have friends in Town, obligations. I cannot go running across the country, simply as I please. Besides, a master to teach Alexander will arrive soon, and I want to be here when that happens. It will be a major change for our little household, as he is to live with us."
"So you have decided to have him educated at home?"
"Dr Evans spoke of having Alexander attend Eton when he is old enough, but until then," Desdemona lowered her head with a confidential smile, "I will not let him out of my sight. He should, however, be prepared for Eton, tuition-wise."
"All my cousins went to Eton," Anne said, lost in thought. "What about Sarah?"
Desdemona sighed, and shrugged her shoulders. "You know that Dr Evans did not intend for Alexander to take up a profession, as he has sufficient independent means to be a gentlemen of leisure. Although I am not pleased by the prospect I will have to employ a governess for Sarah, it will hardly add to the credibility of either, if Sarah is educated only by her mother."
"A mother who is in a profession, herself," Anne added bitterly, but Desdemona only nodded sedately. They could not change the present, or the past, but they could influence the future.
"Do you think," Anne commenced slowly, with that thoughtful look in her eyes Desdemona had learned to become wary of, "do you think that my Marianne would be a good prospect for your Alexander?"
Desdemona shook her head. "Anne, they are so young. Marianne has barely started to talk, and Alexander is yet to start his formal education. We should not decide something of this magnitude now, or have you forgotten the supposed engagement between you and your Cousin Darcy?"
Anne shook her head without looking at her friend.
"When they are both of the right age, and have seen something of the world, I will be happy to revisit this topic. If their hearts should find one another, and if you could be persuaded to accept Alexander as your son-in-law, I will be the happiest of women. Until then, I beg of you, we will let the matter rest."
Very thoughtful, Anne raised her glance to meet Desdemona's. "It shall be as you wish. We will store this idea in the back of our minds, and bring it to the open when the time is right." Challengingly, she held out her hand to Desdemona, who took it gladly.
"I agree, from the bottom of my heart."
Thus, their pact was sealed.
–
Anne left London in June, taking Marianne with her, but leaving Desdemona and her family behind.
Desdemona settled tolerably well into the new routine, which now included a governess and a master for her children. Suddenly, she found herself with a surprising quantity of spare time at her hands.
With nothing else to do, and the overall threat of her brother no longer hanging over her head, Desdemona set out to do what she had wanted to do for a long time now. For this purpose, she went to visit one of the group homes, that had been set up all over London, to give shelter to the many families of soldiers either injured or mortally wounded in the wars on the continent.
Army pensions were small to non-existent for the common soldiers, so circumstances were dire for those who could no longer boast of a male family member to earn their keep. If the head of the family returned, unable to work, he even proved to be a greater burden to his family by representing one more mouth to be fed.
Thus, families had decided to work together, and pool their resources, in order to make a living. Still, they were very poor, surviving just barely, and often unable to offer any perspectives to their children other than to enlist in the army, if they were boys.
Desdemona had heard of those group homes from a friend of her late husband's, also a physician, who now, in his retirement, offered his services to the inhabitants of such a group home without consideration. With a lot of free time at her hands, and the means to do so, Desdemona intended to offer her services as well.
She was not yet sure what exactly she would do, but the chances that a midwife was needed were equal to the chances that she could help with whatever other services were wanting. For a start, she would pay a visit to her late husband's old friend, Dr More.
Though he greeted her with surprise, and no little suspicion at first, he never the less accepted her offer of help. In his long time with the group homes of London, however, he had met many a well-to-do lady who came with high ambitions, and quit not long after.
It was agreed that they would meet the following Tuesday, when she was to accompany him to one of the larger group homes. Their hope was that while he would hold his usual consultation hours, she would be approachable to the many females living there, who might wish to consult with a woman, rather than a man.
–
All things considered, Desdemona's first day at the group home was a success. At the beginning, the inhabitants had hesitated to address her, and even though she managed to pick up a conversation with some of them, nobody would properly consult her. As time passed, she met a couple of old acquaintances from the Peninsula, who spread the word who she was. Seemingly next to every body on the Peninsula had heard of the nurse who had followed her husband into the war. The ice was broken, and Desdemona spent a day treating children with minor injuries, giving advice to women on their pregnancy, and offering a sympathetic ear for those whose monthlies gave them trouble.
In the midst of all the people she had attracted – Desdemona soon began to suspect that most had come to look at her, rather than because they had actual problems – Mr Brown was suddenly before her.
"Nurse Evans!" he exclaimed, "I could not believe it when our little Jemmy here told me you were here!"
"Mr Brown, I am happy to see you! And you, Master Jeremy," she added, ruffling the boy's hair. She remembered him, he had been in the park last summer.
Mr Brown looked around. "Just like in old times, eh?" he asked, not unkindly.
"No, Mr Brown, not at all like in old times." Desdemona smiled. "Or can you hear any cannon fire?"
They both laughed at this, despite the fact that the memories of the hospital tent while cannons were shot nearby were not at all funny. However, if you forgot how to laugh, you did not survive. And they had survived, both of them.
–
One week Dr More asked Desdemona to attend the meeting of a committee, which had for some years been helping with funding the medicines he used. He felt a little under the weather, and bade her go in his stead.
A little apprehensive, Desdemona stepped out of the hackney coach which had brought her to the house of one Mrs Featherton, who was the principal of the committee. Today's meeting would be held in her parlour, and Desdemona attended to report what their donations had been used for, as well as to ask for more, naturally.
She was greeted by a stately butler, who after taking her bonnet and gloves, conducted her to the drawing room.
As she followed him, Desdemona took a good look at her surroundings. The house was so very new money, she could practically smell it. Clearly whomever had chosen the décor, had wanted to show their wealth. The word "understatement" must hold next to no meaning in this household.
Soon, Desdemona was ushered into the drawing room, where the butler announced her.
A large woman in her forties stepped towards her.
"Welcome to my home, Mrs Evans. Dr More already mentioned that you would take his place today. Come, I will introduce you around." With that, she took Desdemona's arm and led her into the room.
Around a dozen other women were already there, and she gathered from their conversation that two participants were still missing.
A slender woman with a friendly face addressed her, "Mrs Evans, are you perchance the young woman who spent Christmas at Pemberley, with my niece Mrs Darcy?"
"Mrs Darcy is your niece?" Desdemona replied in surprise.
The woman smiled and nodded. "Indeed she is. She told me of you kindness towards herself, I never thought I would have the chance to express my gratitude to you in person."
"Please, Mrs Gardiner, let us not speak of this. It did what was in my power, I am most happy that it was enough. How long have you been a member of this committee?" she asked, in order to change the topic.
Mrs Gardiner took the hint. "I have been attending the meetings for two years now, I believe. My good friend, Mrs Ashton, first brought it to my attention. Her brother was lost on the Peninsula, and though she was in the fortunate position of being independent from him, she remembered those who were less fortunate."
Desdemona nodded. The conditions in the group homes were alarming, most of them were far too small for the mass of people seeking shelter there.
"I will tell my niece that we met. She will like to hear about it, will she not?" Mrs Gardiner smiled, and suddenly Desdemona knew who had been the formative woman in Elizabeth Rose Bennet Darcy's life. It had been clear in the winter, that Mrs Bennet had not held that position.
"She will be pleased, indeed. Will Mr Darcy let her come to town for the season, do you think? Or will he lock her up in the wilds of Derbyshire for her own good?" Desdemona answered in jest.
Mrs Gardiner laughed. "Those two are very well suited to each other, just like Mr Gardiner and I."
"He is not here with you?" Desdemona asked, trying to be polite.
"No, no, he could not spare the time. He has very much to do since his secretary left him, and at such a busy time in the warehouse, too."
Desdemona pricked up her ears. "Have you already found a substitute?"
Mrs Gardiner shook her head. "It is hard to find somebody suitable. You see, my husband's secretary must not only be able to read and write fluently, he must also know his numbers, and be of a quick mind, not to mention of excellent character. Such men are usually already employed elsewhere." She sighed.
"Mrs Gardiner, I do not want to be presumptuous, but what if I knew such a man?"
Now Mrs Gardiner was the one to prick up her ears. "You can recommend someone?"
"Indeed, I can. The man I am thinking of was employed by a headmaster of one of the many boarding schools around London, serving first as a carrier of messages, and as a footman later. As a reward for his services his master taught him to read and to write, some arithmetic, and many things more."
"Would he be willing to come work for my husband? Why would he give up such a position?"
"You see, the headmaster died, and his successor did not want to keep him. So he enlisted for the Peninsular campaign."
"And this is where you met him? In Spain?"
"Indeed, he was a soldier in the regiment my husband and I accompanied."
"Is he not working, now that the war is over?"
Desdemona shook her head. "He has had trouble finding employment. You see, he is not of a class whose members can usually boast of this kind of education, besides, he is no longer a healthy man."
"He was injured in Spain? Certainly, how else would you have met him, and gotten the opportunity to know him as well as you do." She considered for a moment. "I will speak to my husband about it. Will you tell me his name?"
"He is a Mr Brown, living in the -group home."
Mrs Gardiner laughed. "Now I understand your motive!" The women laughed together, just as the drawing room door was opened and the last attendants were announced.
The meeting itself was tedious beyond words. However, Desdemona managed to convince the women to continue their commitment to the group homes, some of the women had even brought articles of clothing and other things for her to distribute among the poor. Painting a grateful smile on her face, she accepted the gifts.
When the meeting was broken up, Desdemona tried to catch Mrs Gardiner before she could leave. This could mean Mr Brown's elevation from hopelessness, she did not want to let the chance pass by.
"Mrs Gardiner, will you send me word, if your husband is willing to meet Mr Brown?"
"I will, Mrs Evans. If this young man is really everything you have described, he might be the answer to our prayers. Now, I have to go, the children will be awaiting me. Good day, Mrs Evans!"
"Good day Mrs Gardiner, may the Lord bless you."
–
"But Nurse Evans! I cannot possibly go there!"
"Why ever not, Mr Brown? And besides, it is Mrs Evans now."
"Forgive me, Nurse Evans. Have you told them that I am crippled?"
"I told Mrs Gardiner that you are no longer a healthy man, and she knows that you have been to Spain. She may draw her own conclusions."
Mrs Gardiner had sent word the day after the committee meeting, her husband was willing to interview Mr Brown for the position of his secretary. Excited like a débutante at the evening of her first ball, Desdemona had grabbed her bonnet and gloves, had flagged down a hackney coach, and had flung the good news at Mr Brown and his family.
And now, Mr Brown had doubts.
"How will I get there? I do not know the way!" Mr Brown fairly wailed.
Before Desdemona could open her mouth, Mrs Baker, Mr Browns sister, jumped in. "Samuel Brown!" she cried, firmly planting her hands on her hips, "you will stop wailing this instant! How often have you complained about not being able to find paid work? Now Nurse Evans comes with an opportunity you could never even have dreamed of, and all you do is WAIL!"
She advanced on him, until the hem of her skirts touched his crutches.
"You will go there tomorrow. You will wear your Sunday best, you will be polite, and you will knock them off their feet. Period."
With that, she turned around and made to leave the room. "I will go press your shirt," she commented her actions.
Mr Brown stared after his sister, speechless.
Desdemona smiled, she had liked Mrs Baker right from their first meeting, and the woman constantly rose in her esteem. She was a strong woman, who had known her share of hardship, knew it still, but she was not one to complain. And when she saw a chance to better the circumstances of those near and dear to her, she seized it. Or made others seize it.
"She is right, you know," Desdemona finally said, when Mr Brown kept silent.
Slowly, he turned to her, ran a hand through his already messy hair and sighed.
"I know." Carefully, he lowered himself on a stool, putting his crutches on the floor beside him. "I think I am simply..." He could not continue, and thus fell silent.
"You are afraid of being rejected?"
"I have been turned away where ever and when ever I applied for a position, after I came home. Life is not easy, for one such as me. Each time I return to Isobel's hearth, without success, I feel more useless. What am I to her, and to the children? A mouth to feed, nothing more and nothing less."
"You are the uncle who teaches them their letters, and numbers, so that they might have a better chance in the world."
"What help are letters and numbers for them if they do not get the chance to prove their skills?" he exclaimed, frustrated with the ways of the world.
Lowering her gaze to the floor, Desdemona said nothing for a few moments.
"Who can tell, Mr Brown?" she asked, looking at him again. "Who can tell what the future holds? We cannot know what chances the ability to read and write might one day offer your nieces and nephews. Perhaps nothing, perhaps good employment and the chance to better their circumstances." She shrugged her shoulders. "There are no guarantees in life, Mr Brown."
He shook his head. "No, there are none. Thank you very much, Nurse Evans," he said, reaching for his crutches and heaving himself upright. "Thank you for this opportunity to prove my skills."
She smiled at him, grateful that Mr Brown had found back to his usual self. "Think nothing of it. Do as you sister told you, go knock them off their feet."
They both laughed a little, embarrassed laugh.
"I have to leave now, Mr Brown. Give my best to your sister," she said, offering her hand.
He took it, firmly.
"Thank you again, Nurse Evans."
"Mrs Evans. And send word, will you?"
"I will, I promise."
Desdemona took her leave, hoping that everything was going to turn our well.
–
And turn out well, it did. Mr Gardiner was very excited about Mr Brown, apparently the two had been able to connect at first sight. However, they agreed on a trial period first, as there were some doubts whether Mr Brown would be physically able to perform all the duties expected of the secretary of Mr Gardiner.
Come autumn, they would discuss the future of Mr Brown's employment, hopefully to the satisfaction of both parties.
Mr Brown veritably blossomed during his time with Mr Gardner, one could practically see that he felt no longer useless, and valued the chance to finally contribute to his family's well-being.
In September, Anne wrote that she had re-located from Matlock to Pemberley, where she had found little Michael Darcy to be inconsolable over the continued separation from his friend Alexander; Apparently, Master Michael very much wished to welcome his friend at Pemberley. Besides, Anne wrote, Pemberley in the autumn was a sight to be seen, and what could possibly keep Desdemona in Town at such a prospect? Slyly, she added that a certain General would be in attendance, too.
A smaller sheet fell out of Anne's letter when Desdemona turned the page, laughing at Anne's presumption. I was a note, written by Mrs Darcy, very short, but to the point:
I care not to know what exactly our Anne might have written to you, she will most certainly have tried to lure you into Derbyshire. Be assured, that we will be most happy to receive you and yours, all you have to do is send the word.
Elizabeth
And send the word, she did. Why, she would be hard pressed to say, Desdemona had not known such restlessness before she had met Anne. Resolutely, she silenced the whispering in her heart, which insisted that it had been exactly this kind of restlessness, which had made her follow Henry to Spain, and which had made her follow her brother's summons to Kent.
The children, needless to say, were excited beyond reason. It was agreed that the governess, a Miss Poole, would accompany them to Derbyshire, but that Alexander's tutor, a Mr Howard, would stay behind in London.
Alexander had made considerable progress under his care, besides, it would be next to impossible to separate young Michael Darcy and Alexander Evans for the purpose of lessons. Michael's tutor would have to deal with two boys, while they were at Pemberley.
With two excitable children, the journey up north was almost as wearisome as in the winter, this time, however, the weather was considerably warmer, allowing for more comfortable, and less constricting travelling clothes. All the same, Desdemona would not ban her children to a second carriage in order to travel in peace. No, as long as they were small, she would keep them close. Alexander and Sarah would soon enough grow out of their mother's care, she was loath to hasten the process.
Pemberley in autumn was indeed a sight to behold, and the constant warm and dry weather was put to good use by everybody.
The ladies of the house usually took their tea in pick-nick style on the wide lawn behind the great house. Michael, Alexander and Sarah delighted in the freedom the many trees to the side of the grass allowed them, one of them dragging little Marianne with them more often than not.
Helena, as of yet too young for any means of locomotion, though she tried very hard, stayed on the blanket with the women; however she made no secret of the fact that she longed to participate in the adventures of the older children. At not fully nine months old, she displayed all the signs of having inherited her parent's active disposition.
Today, the tree ladies had somehow hit upon the topic of marriage.
"Jane and I made a pact that we would only marry for the deepest of love when we were but ten, and twelve, respectively." Elizabeth gave a little laugh. "It seemed naïve, a child's dream at best, given our situation, but I am very grateful that it was possible do keep it, for both of us."
"You were fortunate, indeed," Anne replied. "You can believe me, however, that a substantial dowry will not necessarily afford you the freedom of choice."
The ladies were silent for a moment, until Mrs Darcy asked quietly, "Were you very angry with me, for stealing Mr Darcy away from you?"
Never before had there been the opportunity to speak frankly about Anne's supposed engagement with her cousin.
"Angry? No, I was not angry. Mother was, she went positively berserk at the news. I was... shocked."
Desdemona and Elizabeth sent her compassionate glances, but Anne waved them away.
"I have never felt that I loved my Cousin Darcy, but when you are told often enough, and persistently enough, that a certain event will eventually occur, you start to believe it yourself. I believed it to be an absolute, irrevocable truth that Cousin Darcy and I would one day be joined in holy matrimony. I did not feel his loss so very much, it felt rather like I had lost my purpose in live."
She exhaled forcefully.
"You must understand, I was not allowed to find myself a purpose, or an employment. I fully accepted this as a fact, as I never knew life to be otherwise but empty, and even though I never had any concept what being anybody's wife would mean, it was a fixture of my life, if not the very purpose of my existence, to become Cousin Darcy's wife."
She plopped a grape in her mouth.
"When this purpose was taken from me, I fully felt the extension of the emptiness in my life. At first, Mother was adamant that things would still develop just as she wished, but then word came that the announced marriage had actually taken place. Almost instantly, now dangerously calm and calculating, she set out to find a husband for me. Mr Collins, our clergyman, made the mistake of suggesting Cousin Richard, a proposition which ultimately cost him Mother's patronage. A mere younger son would never do for one such as me, all the world had to see that a de Bourgh would answer the slap in her face with a connection far greater than marriage into the Darcy family could ever have offered."
"Hell hath no fury..." Desdemona commented.
"...like a woman scorned." Elizabeth finished the quotation at Anne's questioning look.
"Well," Anne said in a lighter tone, reaching for more grapes, "you know the rest."
"Do you consider re-marrying yourself?" Elizabeth asked, carefully treading dangerous ground.
But Anne only shook her head, laughingly. "And give up the freedom I have gained from widowhood? Never!" she exclaimed, waving both hands as if fending off the very idea.
Desdemona threw an apple at her. "Maybe you simply have to meet the right man!" she cried, giggling.
Anne caught the fruit easily, but Elizabeth spoke before she could open her mouth to answer in kind.
"Oh, yes!" Mrs Darcy threw in, "one of these days, your prince will come to one of those balls, riding a white horse, and you will raise your arms to let him pick you up, and then you will ride off into the sunset together!"
"Just imagine, how romantic that would be" Desdemona agreed, placing the back of her hand on her forehead, as if feeling faint.
"I am rather thinking of the difficulties the horse would have with the staircase. The slow gait, without a doubt appropriate to the challenge, would none the less put a damper to our dramatic exit," Anne answered dryly.
Little Helena woke from the sound of their laughter, giving a disapproving little cry.
Between her three companions, she was soon soothed, however.
"What about General Fitzwilliam now, Anne?" Desdemona asked suddenly, as they all watched Helena suck on a piece of apple. With a very serious look on her little face, the baby worked on the fruit with rosy gums.
Anne kept silent for so long that Desdemona had already despaired of receiving an answer from her friend. Finally, she spoke with such gravity in her voice, than their banter from only moments ago seemed to belong to another life.
"No, this would not be a good idea."
"Why ever not, Anne?" Elizabeth asked, equally serious. "Though I am loath to say it, from a material point it would be an ideal match."
"From a material point, my marriage to Pratt was an ideal match," Anne spat.
Desdemona put a hand on hers, to calm her down.
"Elizabeth is correct, Anne. You are a widow of independent fortune, and he is your cousin with no prospects worth mentioning. Yet, his name would afford you and your daughter his standing in society, by a closer connection to the Fitzwilliam family. Besides, Marianne would have a father."
"He would never be able to hurt either you, or your daughter," Elizabeth added, taking Anne's other hand. "I am very sorry, I did not mean to upset you."
Anne shook her head. "No, I am sorry for snapping at you as I did. You are not to blame, neither of you. However," she continued after a deep breath, "I still do not think that Cousin Richard would be a good match for me, nor I for him. Besides, I do not want to marry at this point, and I do not need to. As you say, I am in possession of an independent fortune, and Marianne has fathers enough in Darcy, Uncle Matlock, Tyndale, and Richard."
Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. "We do not even know if he would want to marry at all," she said.
"Or me in particular," Anne returned, already with a laugh ready on her lips. "No, Desdemona," she added, patting her friend's arm affectionately, "you may safely consider him your own."
"Well, I never!" Desdemona cried, but the other two had already dissolved in giggles. After a moment of hesitation, she joined them.
"Yet, I am worried about Richard," Elizabeth admitted, when they had all drawn breath again. "He lived with us for some time after he returned, said he needed to escape from the overwhelming care of his parents. He recovered well, yet he never was the same again." She turned to Desdemona. "Can you imagine, when I first met him at Rosings, that we were almost constantly in conversation whenever we were together? His taciturn cousin Darcy was a stark contrast to his talkative self."
Desdemona shrugged her shoulders. "He lived to see terrible things. Men tend to change when that happens."
"I agree," Anne piped in, "but yet there is a restlessness in him, something that never lets him be calm."
"Yes," Elizabeth took up again, "exactly. Whenever he is with us, I have a feeling that he is not really here. He seems unsettled, neither at home here nor at Matlock, and he despises London above everything, which he never did before. Though I think," she said, more calmly again, "that he is not set against London per se, I believe he does not like to be stared at."
"And stared at is something he gets in London wherever he goes." Desdemona concluded.
Anne and Elizabeth nodded. "His parents would like him to marry, would like to see him happy. Darcy as well as Tyndale have offered him a place in their houses, too. Yet he is... "Elizabeth was at a loss for words.
"He is not content," Desdemona said, her voice far away. "Not complete."
An idea which had long since resided in Anne's head, wormed its way into Elizabeth's.
–
Nothing more of consequence was discussed, in fact nothing much at all was said. Each of the women had had her share of seriousness for the day. Unnoticed by them, the wind had picked up, and the sky had become darker. Thick drops of rain began to fall, effectively bringing the women back to reality.
Hastily, Anne and Desdemona began to grab the tea things together, Elizabeth was already running to bring Helena into the house. Servants soon came out to help them, and Desdemona ordered one of them to look for the children who were still somewhere in the woods. Nobody had thought about watching them closely, what evil could ever befall to them on the grounds of Pemberley?
Now Sarah could be seen, running to the house with Marianne, as fast as the short legs of the younger girl allowed. Desdemona left the pick-nick basket to the servants and ran towards her, picked up the smaller girl and took her daughter by the hand.
On their way to the house, she asked after the boys, but Sarah knew not where they were. The girl explained that they had been playing hide and seek when the rain surprised them, and that she had tried to find her brother and her cousin (again, the simpler appellation of cousin served them well), but when Marianne had started to cry she had turned towards the mansion, assuming that the boys would follow sooner or later.
The rain came down harder now, turning the lawn they had sat on only minutes ago into a swamp. Still, there was no sign of the boys, however much their mothers strained their eyes.
With a very un-good feeling in her stomach, Anne ordered two footmen to get some protective clothing and go look for the boys. Elizabeth and Desdemona wanted to go searching themselves, but Anne held them back. The boys would be found in no time at all.
An hour later, General Fitzwilliam and Mr Darcy were out in the forests, as well, leading a veritable army of footmeen.
Impatiently, Desdemona paced the music room, from which one had a good view of the grassy plain which stretched to the woods. She was not used to being condemned to inactivity, every fibre of her body ached to be out in the rain, and search for her darling baby boy.
Elizabeth was no better, she continuously sat down at the pianoforte, ran her fingers over the keys, sprang up again, and walked over to the french doors leading into the garden.
The wait was driving them out of their senses, even though Anne did her best to keep them calm. Thankfully, Georgiana had agreed to take the three girls upstairs, away from the excitement and worry of the music room.
"They will be found in no time, now." Elizabeth said.
"They will be fine," Desdemona continued, as she always did.
"This time next year, we will laugh about this," Anne concluded.
They had uttered those very same sentences countless times, now.
Nothing happened, time moved exceptionally slow. Silence fell over the room, the only sound being the rain which could be heard hitting the tiles on the terrace just outside the french doors.
"They will be found in no time, now." Elizabeth said.
"They will be fine," Desdemona continued, as she always did.
"This time next year, we will laugh about this," Anne concluded.
The waiting continued, infinitely, unbearably. Elizabeth sat down at the pianoforte again, this time eliciting a few dissonant chords from Georgiana's fine instrument, before she ran to look outside again.
"They are coming!" she suddenly cried, her voice almost breaking. A wink of an eye later, Desdemona and Anne were beside her, staring at the two figures who drew near over the lawn. One of them seemed to be carrying something.
Only one of them.
"Quick!" Desdemona shouted, and pulled at the door, which did not budge.
Anne softly pushed her out of the way, and handled the mechanics of the door with calmer hands. It opened just in time to admit a footman and Mr Darcy, soaking wet, the latter clinging to a sodden bundle.
"Michael!" Elizabeth screeched, peeling her husband's hands away, and receiving her son in her arms.
"Mother," the boy said, teeth chattering with cold.
Desdemona turned away, to Mr Darcy. "Alexander?" Now her voice almost broke.
Mr Darcy shook his head, threw one more look at his wife, who had sunk to the ground with their son in her arms, and turned to walk out into the rain again, followed by the footman.
"We will find him," he said, already almost out of the door. Anne closed it softly behind him.
Desdemona stared first at Anne, then at Elizabeth, still a heap of skirts on the floor. Suddenly, she did what she had always done when in danger of losing the last shreds of her sanity, she turned into Nurse Evans. What else was there to do?
"Anne, ring the bell. We need a good fire in a room upstairs, with a warm bath prepared at the earliest." She did not wait to see whether or not Anne followed her command.
"Elizabeth, we have to get him upstairs. He needs to be peeled out of those wet clothes, we have to warm him up."
When Elizabeth did not react at first, Desdemona grabbed her arm and forcefully pulled her to her feet.
"He is no longer out in the rain, but he is not yet safe!" she said in her most unfriendly nurse-voice, bent to pick up Michael and turned to the door, which Anne held open for her.
Upstairs, Mrs Reynolds had already a fire burning in one of the guest rooms. This was not the first boy who got lost in the forest during her reign, she knew that a chamber separate from the other children in the nursery was preferable in such circumstances.
Michael's whole body shivered, but he protested the many hands who wanted to pull off his clothes in spite of it.
Soon, he was undressed, and his mother personally put him into a tub. Indignantly, he said that he had already had his bath for the week, and that he saw no reason at all to be subjected to another one.
Elizabeth hit him hard in the face, and then drew him to her body, holding fast until the boy began to squirm. Releasing him, she turned to her friends, laughing through her tears.
Everything was well with Michael.
–
Later, when Michael was dressed again, and Elizabeth and Desdemona had changed out of the clothes the boy had wet, they placed a cup of hot chocolate before him, and tried to question him about Alexander.
To no avail.
Slowly, without any outward reaction Desdemona let herself be guided back to the music room by Anne, so that Michael could be put to bed by Elizabeth, while the sun slowly set behind the sodden hills of Derbyshire.
All the nervous energy which had seized her earlier was gone, Desdemona sat herself heavily on a sofa and stayed there, motionless. Fear held her heart in a tight, merciless grip, and not even Anne's desperate attempt at an embrace could get trough to her. Eventually, silent tears of anxiety ran down Desdemona's cheeks.
How long they sat there, none of them could later have said with any degree of accuracy. At some point, Elizabeth entered and took her place at Desdemona's other side.
They did not speak, the only motion was a footman who, from time to time, stoked the fire.
After what seemed an eternity, Desdemona's cheeks dried, all her tears were spent. They continued to sit, like marble statues, the waiting eating away at their sanity.
Darkness had long since fallen, scattered dots of light could sometimes be seen in the gloom outside as the men were searching with torches now.
Just when Anne thought she could bear it no more, when she was sure she would burst any minute now, Elizabeth gave a little yelp and pointed to the glass doors.
The torches had collected into a group, the figures of several men could be seen walking towards the house. The search party was returning.
Again it was Anne who opened the door, when the group of men was halfway across the lawn.
Mindless of the rain still falling in sheets, Desdemona gathered her skirts and ran. In a matter of seconds she had reached the men, one of whom, on a closer look, pressed a bundle to his chest.
"Alexander!" The voice sounded foreign in Desdemona's ears, she hardly recognised it as her own.
Almost colliding with the figure who held her son, she came to a halt and instantly touched her darling boy, embraced him, tore him from his saviour and crushed him to hear heart.
He was alive! Her son was alive! Relief made her knees weak, and had not strong hands grabbed her arms, she would have sunk to the wet grass, still clinging to Alexander.
They tried to take him from her, but she would not relinquish him, her son, the most important person on earth at this very moment.
"Please Mrs Evans," she heard the tired voice of Mr Darcy close to her ear, "we have to get out of the rain."
All at once, details of her surroundings came back to Desdemona. The shivering of her son in her arms, the rain quickly soaking through her hair and clothes, the heat of the torches on her face, a stark contrast to the cold wind which tugged at her skirts.
Without a word, she turned towards the house, and led the group into the music room. In passing, she registered Anne and Elizabeth smiling at her, but she had only eyes for Mrs Reynolds who stood in the passage to the hall, ready to lead her to a room where she could take care of her son.
Anne followed her, while Elizabeth took care of the soaking wet men making pools on the music room floor.
Together, the two women peeled Alexander out of his clothes and put him in a tub with warm water, until he stopped shivering. They bundled him up and put him to bed afterwards, where his mother took him in her arms and Anne passed him a cup of hot chocolate. Greedily, the boy sipped the hot liquid, promptly burning his tongue. Anne laughed.
"See, Desdemona? He will be all right." Turning to the boy, she asked, "Are you hungry?"
At Alexander's nod, she sent Mrs Reynolds for some bread and cheese, enough for all three of them.
While the tension within Desdemona's stomach had not yet relaxed enough to feel hungry, or to eat, Alexander and Anne partook of the delicacies Mrs Reynolds had brought with relish.
Soon after, Alexander's eyelids began to droop, and his mother made him snuggle down in the blankets.
She lay down beside him on the coverlet, holding him close to her body, until she felt his breathing become regular. Lovingly, she stared at him as if she had set eyes on him for the very first time that night.
"You have to change out of your wet clothes," Anne whispered over the boy's sleeping form.
Desdemona shook her head, without tearing her gaze from her son's pale face.
"Desdemona, please, you will be of no help to him when you catch cold! He is sleeping now, he will hardly notice you are gone. Change into dry clothes, grab something to eat, I will sit with him until you return."
The whispered discussion continued for some time, until Desdemona was seized by a violent sneeze, supporting Anne's argument.
With a last loving touch to her son's cheek, Desdemona got up and made to leave the room. "I will be back soon," she whispered.