Chapter 22

Warning: There is an instance of domestic abuse in this chapter

It was only a week before she was due to give birth, but Elizabeth had been feeling back pains all day. When her Aunt Gardiner had been expecting her youngest, she had said that back pains could signal the beginnings of labour. Elizabeth had even had to write Darcy to postpone their meeting at the cottage that morning. She had not said why; she did not want him to fret. If she was indeed about to give birth, she would write him as soon as their child was born, when she was safely through her ordeal.

She had decided not to call for the physician yet. There was no reason for Dr. Thomas to wait around for hours until labour started. Instead, she asked Sarah to order a bath for her. It was almost bedtime, but Elizabeth thought she would probably be up all night. If she could relax a little in the hot water, it would help her face the coming labour.

She had only been soaking for about ten minutes, however, when Sarah arrived in the chamber, huffing and puffing as if she had been running. "Oh, Mistress," she cried. "Lord Carlisle is here, and he says he wishes to speak to you at once!"

"Vincent? Here?" asked Elizabeth in surprise and not a little dismay. "But he said he would come once I had sent him word that the child was born! Why is he here early?"

"I have no idea, my lady, but he seems in one of his peevish moods. It would be best perhaps not to make him wait too long."

"Very well," Elizabeth said with some foreboding. "Help me out of the bath, Sarah, and then dressed in my nightgown and a robe."

It took them a good fifteen minutes to get Elizabeth ready to see her husband. She had no idea why he was here, or why he was angry. He could not possibly have gotten wind of her and Darcy's affair. The servants here were all loyal to her; and besides, none of them knew where she and Sarah went almost every day. So far as she knew, they assumed she was visiting tenants. If they suspected anything, they would not speak of it.

She descended the steps slowly, not wanting to fall and hurt the baby. Her back was now paining her fiercely, and she felt a twinge low in her belly.

Vincent was in his study. Elizabeth had often been called there before to endure some diatribe, and she entered it with foreboding now.

Vincent was pacing back and forth, with a tumbler of whisky in his hand. Elizabeth at once felt dread. If he was drunk, he would be more ugly than ever.

"You asked to see me, my lord?" she said, and Vincent whirled around at the sound of her voice.

"Yes, I asked to see you, madam," he hissed. "I am surprised you are here, and not off with your lover!"

"My lover?" Elizabeth asked, her heart at once beating faster.

"Yes, your lover! I received this letter in the post only yesterday."

He thrust a parchment at her. She took it with foreboding and read.

Lord Carlisle,

You do not know me, but I am very familiar with your wife. I want to inform you that she has been having an affair with a gentleman of my acquaintance since winter of last year. I am uncertain if the child she is carrying is even yours.

I write this only as a friend, concerned for another. If you travel to your estate you may even find your wife in the act.

Signed,

A well-wisher

Elizabeth was horrified. Who in the world knew about her affair? And who would write to her husband about it? She thrust the paper into the fire.

"It is all a lie," she said in a firm voice, hiding the wobble that threatened.

She was not prepared for the blow that rocked her back on her heels. She stumbled, the side of her face burning with pain. "I do not believe you," Vincent said, his eyes narrowing to slits. "I do not know why any man would want to lie with a frigid icicle such as you, but when I review your behaviour in London last winter, I recall that you were gone very often all alone to 'visit friends.' Is that brat in your belly even mine?"

He was winding himself up into a frenzy, Elizabeth noticed. She was afraid that the next blow would be to her stomach, that he would kill her child. She could not let that happen. "I do not know who this well-wisher might be, but he is lying," Elizabeth said. "I have always been true to you."

Vincent turned to her with a sneer after gulping his whisky. He set the glass down and grabbed both her arms so hard she knew she would bruise, and shook her so that her teeth rattled. "You seduced me into marriage with you. Am I now to be trapped for life with an adulteress, with a bastard for my heir? I do not think so, Elizabeth! You shall pay for this! I will not have that bastard named as my child!"

Elizabeth was now becoming seriously worried. He meant to kill her. Or if not her, at least the baby. When he was drunk he lost all sense of himself, and he was in a furious rage.

"I cannot simply send you away. I shall be rid of you and your brat for good!"

He released her and turned to fill up his glass again with whisky. Elizabeth took the one free moment she had, grabbing the poker from next to the fireplace, and bringing it down with all her might onto the back of Vincent's head. He fell like a stone.

Elizabeth stopped breathing. Now what was she to do? He would be even more furious when he finally woke. She must send a note to Darcy; he would know what to do.

But even as she waited for Vincent to stir and groan, he lay as one dead. And in that moment, Elizabeth wondered if he really was dead.

Dear God, what if she had killed him? She would hang! She hurried to his side and tried to feel in his neck for a pulse, but there was nothing.

Now she began to panic. What was she to do? Before she could do anything, however, she was bent double with a pain in her stomach that she was now sure was one of coming labour. She opened the door to call for the butler.

But Simmons was already there. He looked in upon his dead master with no emotion on his face. He took the poker from the floor and stuck the end into the fire, effectively burning away any hair and blood.

"Simmons…" she began, but he interrupted her.

"It is a shame that the master should drink so much," he said in a sympathetic voice. "If he had not been so drunk, he would not have stumbled and fallen against the mantlepiece."

Elizabeth was astonished. Simmons was covering for her. He had clearly been outside the door and heard everything. He knew she had killed Vincent, and was still protecting her.

"He is dead, Simmons," she said in a horrified whisper.

Simmons nodded. "Then the doctor must be sent for. Also for you, madam," he said in a calm voice. "I shall see to it at once. Let your maid take you up to your room."

Elizabeth was in such a state of emotional and physical turmoil that she could only obey the butler's command. Sarah was there a moment later, taking her arm and leading her back upstairs to her chambers.

"Sarah, I must write to the Landsdownes and Mr. Darcy immediately. Will you write to my dictation?" she asked.

"Certainly, madam. What shall I say?"

Dear Freddie and Rosamond,

I need your presence at Campton Manor at once. Please forgive this precipitate summons. Vincent arrived early from London and fell against the mantlepiece in his drunken rage. He is dead. I need your assistance immediately.

Elizabeth, Lady Carlisle

"That should be enough to bring Mr. Darcy with them," Elizabeth said once Sarah had finished.

"I will see this sent immediately, and then I shall come back," said Sarah, and departed.

The twinges were coming more frequently now, and Elizabeth could not find a comfortable position to lie on the bed. She decided it might be best to try to stay on her feet.

When Sarah returned, she helped Elizabeth walk about the room, one arm around her mistress's waist. It was only half an hour before Dr. Thomas arrived. He entered Elizabeth's chamber, carrying his bag.

"Lady Carlisle," he said, apparently getting a look at her face, his own turning dark. "Allow me to condole with you on the passing of your husband."

"You have looked at him?" Elizabeth panted from the aftereffects of a contraction.

"Indeed, I have. It is a shame that he turned so much to drink." He sounded perfectly certain that the death had been an accident, but Elizabeth was convinced he knew the truth. They were all protecting her. Tears stung her eyes at the realization.

"But you are the one in need of real medical care," he said. "Let me have you lie back on the bed and I will check your progress."

Elizabeth was in too much pain to care about modesty. She lay back and the doctor lifted her nightgown to examine her dilation.

"You are coming along nicely," he said. "It should only be an hour or so before the child is born. In the meantime," he turned to Sarah, "try to keep her ladyship comfortable. Perhaps continue walking about the room until the pains grow too close together. In the meantime, I must speak with the magistrate to tell him the cause of Lord Carlisle's death."

Elizabeth was certain that with the word of both the butler and the doctor, she would be absolved of all guilt. She was grateful for their loyalty, but could hardly think of anything now except the pain that was bearing down on her almost constantly.

Ten minutes passed before there was another knock upon the door. It was Rosamond.

"We came as soon as we received your note," she said. "Oh, Elizabeth, are you all right?" She had apparently noticed Elizabeth's swollen and puffy face, as well as the fact that she was gasping with pain.

"I will be well, once this little one is born," she got out. "Is Mr. Darcy with you?"

"Yes, he insisted on coming. He and Freddie are speaking with the magistrate. What a terrible accident, for Lord Carlisle to fall against the mantlepiece."

Once more, Elizabeth could tell from Rosamond's tone that she had guessed the truth. Again, the loyalty brought tears to her eyes.

"I am here to help you," Rosamond continued. "Tell me what I may do to bring you comfort. I have been through this twice, you must remember. And will a third time next spring."

"You will? Congratulations!" said Elizabeth on a gasp.

The doctor returned about twenty minutes later. Having Elizabeth lie down so he could check her progress again, he declared that it was time to push.

Every muscle in Elizabeth's body seemed to strain as she pushed with all her might. Again and again, she pushed, until Dr. Thomas declared that he could see the head.

"You are almost there, Elizabeth," encouraged Rosamond. "Just one or two more pushes."

Using the last of her strength, Elizabeth let out a scream as with one final push, the child slid out of her body. She lay, breathing hard, covered in sweat, relieved that it was finally over. Then she heard her baby cry. Hers and Fitzwilliam's.

The doctor cut and tied the cord, then wiped the mucus and fluid off the baby. "You have a son, my lady," he said. "The new Lord Carlisle."

Tears came into Elizabeth's eyes as she held the precious bundle close to her chest. Her heart seemed to expand with a love she had never imagined. That this precious piece of her and Fitzwilliam should be in her arms at last, and to have no fear that Vincent would ever hurt him…

That was when it finally registered in her brain. She had been too hazed with pain before to realize. Vincent was gone. She and Darcy could be married. They would raise their son together, even if he was legally known as Vincent's. Joy filled her heart such as she had never known before.

The baby began rooting around, and she realized he was hungry. She bared her breast and the infant began to suckle. She winced at first at the sensation. It was a very strange feeling, much different from when Fitzwilliam sucked on her nipples during lovemaking. That made her realize…

"Please tell Mr. Darcy he may come in," she said.

Rosamond hesitated. She knew it was not proper. But no one need know, and the circumstances were very different from usual. "I will get him," she said. "He has been pacing the hall outside your door. Freddie had to restrain him from flying in here when he heard you scream."

After Elizabeth had delivered the afterbirth, Dr. Thomas did his best to clean her up. "I think you are ready for visitors now, my lady," he said.

A moment later, the doctor and Rosamond had left, and Mr. Darcy entered. "My love, how are you feeling?" he asked. "Your poor face."

"I am very well. Fitzwilliam, we have a son," she said.

He sat on a chair next to her bed, looking in awe at the baby. "Here, you may hold him." Elizabeth handed him over, and Darcy carefully took the bundle into his arms. He touched each hand and foot, counting ten little fingers and ten little toes. "He is beautiful," he said, his voice choked with tears. "What shall we name him?"

"How about Ethan?" Elizabeth asked. "Ethan William Kendrick, Viscount Carlisle."

"I like it," Darcy nodded. "I know I can never claim his as mine, but at least I will get to raise him. That is, if you will consent to marry me," he said.

Elizabeth's eyes filled with happy tears. "It seems terrible to be so glad of another human being's death, but I cannot help but rejoice. Yes, of course I will marry you, my love."

As she snuggled into his side, their babe cuddled between them, she thought that she had never been happier.