A Child for Elizabeth Read online

  “See what I mean? I shall beat it out of her if necessary!” Lord Upton spat and took a step towards his daughter, but was held back by the calmer head of his guest.

  “I hardly think that is necessary… perhaps it is best that Rosamund goes to her chamber while we can discuss what is the best course of action? She is obviously in no condition to make rational decisions.”

  Darcy regretted this patronizing form of address, but it was necessary to appease the elder man. In the past, Darcy had found Rosamund Endicott to be most intelligent and of a practical nature if not reserved. He could see that his dismissal of her had struck a barb, but at the moment, he simply wanted her out of harm’s way. It would be truly terrible if he was forced to physically stand between father and daughter to prevent harm to her person or the baby.

  Nodding his assent, Lord Upton pulled heavily on the bell rope. Within a few seconds, the butler and housekeeper both answered the call. Darcy assumed they had been listening at the lock, but did not interfere.

  “Take my daughter above and lock her in her chamber. No one is to go in or out, I don’t care what fuss she makes. Is that understood?”

  Darcy watched as the housekeeper made to take Rosamund’s arm, but was warned off by the raise of the candlestick still clutched in her fingers.

  “Lady Rosamund? If you please… this is not helping matters in your favor,” Darcy insisted, but his tone had softened, achieving the desired result as the young woman shot one last glare at her father before departing between her gaolers. Once gone, Darcy faced the man that had once been his father’s closest friend. To be honest, he looked terrible. His face was haggard, eyes shot with red and his once raven black hair, now nearly white. At barely fifty, Peter Endicott looked twice his years. Was this what raising children did to a person? Call him a fool, but Darcy was about to make an offer to solve all the man’s problems.

  ~Four~

  The events of the previous evening replayed in Darcy’s mind as he repeatedly tried to formulate what he would say to Elizabeth. Normally a man who spoke with confidence, especially after carefully weighting every option, he was not sure of her reaction. Having no children of their own was a sensitive subject, one that he avoided at all cost. But now, he had done what at the moment had seemed practical, was now a devil’s arrangement. He had immediately offered to provide a safe place for Rosamund to have her child and hopefully discover the identity of its sire. It was a common enough practice and one for which the Darcy family had performed in the past. Once the baby was born, an appropriate home would be located and the lady in question could return to society, claiming an extended stay on the continent for her absence. What better home could there be than Pemberley? No one would question the appearance of an infant here. More than one woman had chosen to not disclose a pregnancy until after the child was born. But would Elizabeth consider this alternative? As Rosamund Endicott did not socialize, it was all the easier... but for one problem. If the child were a boy, Lord Upton had insisted upon its return to Upton Chase where he would be raised as his heir.

  “I am not a stupid man. I have no intentions of marrying again and now that Rosamund has been ruined, she may never marry anyone. And I refuse to allow my title and possessions to be given to some distant relation! That is why I would make this request.”

  “And what if she has a girl? What then?”

  “I don’t care… an orphanage? You keep it for all I care. Anything is fine with me, just don’t bring it here.”

  Darcy swallowed hard, it was far worse than expected and considered carefully before he spoke again.

  “And of Rosamund? What is to become of her?”

  “As of today, … I no longer have a daughter. If you refuse to take her, I shall make other arrangements. There are places for such ladies.”

  In the end, there had been no true alternative. Darcy was well aware of the organizations that offered haven for unwed mothers. Nothing more than a workhouse, virtual slavery for the woman, while the man who helped get her in the predicament went unpunished. It was not right, but there was little he could do, save assist one person. He had tried to explain it to Rosamund on the way to Pemberley, but she had refused to acknowledge him. Packing the barest of essentials and wearing a servant’s smock to disguise her appearance, it had been near dawn before they arrived at Pemberley. And now, as he waited for Elizabeth to wake, his charge was locked away, having traded one prison for another.

  ******

  Several hours later, closer to luncheon than breakfast, Elizabeth finally woke and was immediately overwhelmed by a feeling of nausea. Opening her eyes, she found her husband asleep in a chair, in his hand, one of her silk spiders. Smiling weakly, she crept from her bed to the dressing room in search of water, as her stomach rolled in protest. Drinking straight from the ewer provided for her morning adulations, she splashed her face afterwards and peered in the mirror above the washstand. Her face bore the traces of a poor sleep, dark circles ringed her eyes like a badger. But the fluid had done its task and she felt better, taking the opportunity to dress before returning to the main chamber. Darcy, having heard her movements, was pouring tea from a spirit kettle and offered a welcome cup.

  “Happy anniversary… my little friend here gave me a start. I found him in my tooth powder.”

  “Oh? However, did that happen?”

  Darcy leaned forward and kissed her temple. It was obvious that she was not feeling well, but he did not want to delay their conversation any longer. The mistress of the house must be aware of any and all guests, however temporary. Waiting until she had drunk half her tea, he offered a buttered slice of toast, but it was refused.

  “I must have eaten something that disagrees with me… but the tea is most welcome. Besides, I want to hear all about the mysterious young lady you brought home. I do hope she is not my present?”

  “Heavens no, that surprise you will have to find. I have hidden it somewhere in the house…. Good luck!”

  “Oh dear, the last time one of the maids found it before I did. I had a hard time explaining how a silk negligee managed to make its way into the library tantalus.”

  “I will not give any hints, other than it is in a place that only you have access. As for our guest, she will not be staying very long. But I know you will agree that I could not just leave her.”

  Elizabeth settled back into her chair. She had the feeling that this was no matter of a person in need of employment. While the girl’s dress was of poor quality, something in her carriage suggested a much higher station.

  “Who is she really?”

  “Lady Rosamund Endicott, the unmarried and only child of Lord Upton, a widower of less than pleasant nature… and she is carrying a child.”

  “Oh dear…”

  Darcy did his best to relate the events of the previous evening, sans some of the more colorful language that had been used to describe Rosamund by her father. As he did, Elizabeth’s countenance shifted through a variety of emotions. First sympathy, then anger and finally a resolution of sadness.

  “Poor thing, of course we must offer her assistance. I can only imagine what she is experiencing. When I think back to my own sister Lydia… if not for your intervention… we all should have been ruined.”

  “A state I should like to prevent, but as of yet, she will not speak. Not a word.”

  “Perhaps if she had a woman friend…a man simply cannot understand the magnitude of such a situation. In time, I may be able to get her to confide in me… but then what? As we do not know this person, there may be no simple fix. I assume that whoever he is, it is someone for which her father will never approve…Suppose he is already married?”

  “I had thought of that…but cannot imagine Lord Upton inviting anyone to his home that would seduce his daughter, but stranger things have happened.”

  “Well, I suppose there is plenty of time to worry about that later. Do you have any idea when the child is expected?”

  “Six months or so… but tha
t is not the worst of it. Upton actually wants the child… as his heir.”

  “What? How can that be? What of Rosamund?”

  “He claims to not care… he only wants the child…but only if it is male. That is the only reason he did not send her packing to one of those Magdalene houses.”

  “The ones run by nuns? How terrible…. Does she know this?”

  “Yes, but still remains mute. At least she has not tried to harm herself, for that alone I have hope.”

  “Well, she may stay here as long as necessary.”

  “No, not here…I know it sounds callous, but there are too many people at Pemberley. Someone would eventually find out. I will make arrangements for her to stay with Maura Runnymede.”

  “Who is that?”

  “One of the local midwives. She is somewhat retired from society, but has been known to take in a girl or two when circumstances deem necessary.”

  “Why have I never met her?”

  “I…I assumed we…you…would want a proper doctor when needed.”

  Darcy’s hesitation did not go unnoticed, but Elizabeth chose not to acknowledge his discomfort, for it was a shared emotion. Whenever was not the question… If ever, was more accurate.

  “An experienced midwife is often more qualified than a doctor. The sooner Miss Endicott is examined and settled the better, leave her lack of confidence up to me.”

  ~Five~

  Later that same afternoon, Elizabeth made her way to a part of the guest wing that was seldom used. Having insisted that Darcy not accompany her, she carried a tray laden with an array of delicacies. Her own constitution had miraculously recovered itself since the morning and she now felt better than ever. Tapping on the door, there was no acknowledgement of her presence, but Elizabeth could hear movement from within. Producing a key, she entered the chamber, but left the door wide open. She would not force anyone to remain in her home if they truly wished to leave, despite Darcy’s concerns over the possibility of flight.

  “I am Elizabeth Darcy; this is my home. You have already met my husband, and despite how things may appear, we only wish to help.”

  Rosamund Endicott stood with her back to her hostess. she had not changed her clothes from the previous day, nor had any appearance of having washed. Another tray, bearing what had once been an excellent breakfast, lay congealed and untouched. Elizabeth was not surprised, but nor would she allow it to continue. Removing the stale food, she placed her own tray in the empty space and poured two cups of tea before taking one of the chairs directly behind her guest.

  “I have nothing but time… you however, do not. I suggest we come to some sort of aimable agreement if your stay is not to be one of complete misery. Think of the child…”

  To this, the unkept girl turned and faced her new gaoler and finally spoke. Her voice, little more than a whisper, was filled with an emotion of desperation.

  “That is all I think of, for the child is mine, and mine alone. I shall not let anyone take it away.”

  “No one would disagree, but how do you plan on caring for it? Babies require a home, clothes and sometimes medicine.”

  “I have an inheritance of nearly fifty thousand… from my mother’s estate… yet cannot touch a single penny!”

  “And your father?”

  “My ‘father’ holds me prisoner… just as you do. I cannot do anything without his consent. He may even take my child if he chooses… I trust you know all about that. He only wants a boy… girls are useless.”

  “I am aware, but I doubt you are so compliant, or we would not be having this conversation. You will need that strength in the coming months. Rosamund…. who is the baby’s father? Does he even know?”

  To this query, Elizabeth was met with silence and she did not press. Some secrets must be allowed to be held, at least for a time. For despite being an heiress, Rosamund Endicott was a pauper under her father’s control. He could have sent her away, or had her committed to an institution, or even worse. There were horrific tales of women visiting special doctors to be rid of unwanted babies. Such was the existence of nearly all women. Even marriage did not secure one’s state as a husband had the freedom to do as he wished with a wife’s money. Unless careful legal action was taken, women remained dependent their entire lives. Sighing, she could not argue, but having not had money herself prior to her marriage, it had not mattered. But the comments did make her pause, if she and Darcy ever had children, and they should be female, financial protection was necessary. Rising, she planned to speak with her husband on that very subject, if not for their own children, then his sister, Georgiana. It was no wonder that Miss Darcy had not chosen to marry, for she would be relinquishing everything. Turning to where the angry young woman still stood, Elizabeth issued her orders.

  “I suggest you take some sustenance for we shall be leaving within an hour for the place that will be your home until the lying-in, after that what you choose to do is entirely up to you. Remember, we are only trying to help.”

  *****

  Despite what she felt to be failure, Elizabeth could not be but pleased by the arrangement of small cottages that made up the home of Miss Maura Runnymede. A low stone wall surrounded the property setting it apart from the stretch of forest with a single break. The arched entry bore a stone pillar inscribed with the word “Lilyhaven”. Situated in a small clearing inside a circle of trees, the collection of buildings each held a separate function, in addition to well-tended plots filled with herbs and vegetables. To a random passer-by, it was a lovely homestead.

  “She currently has no other residents, so privacy will be maintained, but at times I have known there to be as many as five.”

  “I had no idea this place was even here. Is there truly such a great need in this day and age?” Elizabeth asked with sad resignation.

  “Unfortunately, so, I had even considered if for Lydia had it been necessary.”

  The mention of her own sister gave Elizabeth pause. So easily could Rosamund have been family.

  “Why can society not simply accept that these things happen? There is far too much censure of women, especially when they do not arrive in this state without men.”

  “I agree, but the world is not a fair place. I fear it may never express the equality of which you speak. We must do our best to function within it, like it or not.”

  “I just wish…”

  “There is no point in wishing… men do as they please and we suffer,” snapped Rosamund Endicott from her corner of the carriage.

  It was the first time Darcy had heard her speak since her arrival. As yet, he had not been made privy to the conversation Elizabeth had earlier. Instead, he had quietly escorted the ladies to their destination himself. The fewer servants involved, the less gossip to be had. Even with Mrs. Reynolds’ intolerance of such things, gossip was impossible to control, especially if it involved the upper classes. At times, he had found it ironic, since the last two times he had brought young women to Maura Runnymede, they had been his own servants. No censure of their actions had ever been made, and once delivered of their children, had been permitted to return to their employment. However, what was permissible for servants, was not always possible for the aristocracy. Now, as the carriage came to a halt, they were greeted by one of the few persons that had known Darcy his entire life, for she had been the one to ‘catch’ him at birth. Handing down his wife first, and then Rosamund, Darcy made introductions to a stunningly beautiful woman of middle years. Stylishly dressed, her auburn hair bore only the merest trace of grey, but the fine lines about her green eyes said otherwise. This was a far cry from the portly old women in drab smocks that had tended Elizabeth’s sisters.

  “May I introduce Lady Maura Runnymede, midwife and mistress of this place….and that young lady… hiding over there, is Melinda, her daughter.”

  At first, neither Elizabeth or Rosamund had noticed the other woman, for she was indeed hidden from view, with only her bright red shoes and stockings giving away her location.
Seeing their surprise, Maura Runnymede gave both welcome and explanation.

  “We are not so formal here… plain Maura will do. I am afraid that I gave up all that ‘lady’ nonsense years ago, but Mr. Darcy seems to enjoy teasing me. Although it is long past time that he has brought his bride to see me, but I suppose I shall forgive you now. And yes, Melinda is my child…all grown up, but as you will see, still a child.”

  By now, the hidden woman had emerged from her place of refuge. Although dressed as an adult, and somewhere between fifteen and twenty in actual years, there was clear evidence in her countenance that all was not as it should be.

  “Mellie had trouble coming, got rather stuck and was not breathing, the result is as you see. She is a sweet girl, hopelessly innocent, but has her limits. I trust you will be kind?”

  This request was more of a demand and clearly directed at Rosamund, who nodded in agreement.

  “Well then, shall we get you situated? There will be plenty of time for the personal bits later.” Maura insisted and led the way to what would be Rosamund’s new home.

  ~Six~

  Some hours later, As the Darcy’s drove away, Maura Runnymede smiled wryly at their departure. So many years ago, it had been she who had been brought to this place. Her father had made no such threats to her person or child, instead, offered a quiet house in the next county where she might ‘repair’ her life claiming to be a widow. But when her child had arrived, and showed clear signs of being different from other babies, she had chosen to stay. What did it matter where she was as long as no one knew of her connection to Lord Alexander Runnymede? Her grandfather was long dead before her disgrace; besides, she had greatly admired the work being done by old Agnes Watson and had learned much from the practiced midwife. Now, with Agnes gone, buried in a small plot just beyond the fence line, she had taken her place. But more than once, she had sought the old woman’s wisdom, and spoke to the headstone like a grieving fool.