“Pardon me,” she said quietly. “Would you be kind enough to inform my sister I am here?”
“I am afraid the family are not receiving visitors today, ma’am.”
The sound of scraping furniture, incongruous against the stillness of the rest of the house, drew Jane’s attention to a pair of footmen rolling the great hearthrug out from under the hall chairs. “Is there to be a ball?” she enquired foolishly. It mattered not what Elizabeth was doing. It did not involve her.
Maltravers looked excessively conscious. “Ahem…no. There was an incident—that is, Mrs Darcy was unexpectedly taken to childbed.”
She looked back at him in surprise. “Presently? Why did you not say? Pray, take me to her this instant.” He hesitated, and she said, more urgently, “I am her sister, it is quite proper. Please, sir, I must insist!”
She grew steadily more anxious as she was led through the house, but all concerns that her presence might be unwelcome vanished when Elizabeth’s cries first reached her ears. She hastened her steps. The footman paled upon reaching the door, evidently unsure what to do next. She dismissed him and, without a second thought, pushed the door open.
Her sister was propped on a bed of sorts, her hair drenched with perspiration and her countenance contorted in pain.
“Lizzy!”
Elizabeth’s head whipped up, and their eyes met. For a heartbeat, Jane feared she might spurn her coming. Then she burst into tears and held out her hand. “Jane! You are here!”
Jane rushed to take it. “I am, and I shall stay if you will let me.”
She nodded and gripped her hand tightly but seemed unable to speak further.
Jane looked around. An older woman, Mrs Sinclair, if she recalled correctly, glared at her reproachfully from the other side of the bed.The housekeeper was there, a maid—and nobody else. “Where is the midwife?” she enquired in alarm.
“There is nobody available,” Mrs Reynolds said in a low voice. “They are all either engaged with other women or nowhere to be found.”
“There must be somebody!”
“We are trying, Mrs Bingley. Two weeks hence and the accoucheur and monthly nurse would have been in residence. We have sent a man to fetch one or both, but they are in Sheffield, and that is assuming they are available to come.”
Elizabeth let out a held breath that stretched into a rasping groan. “It hurts!”
Jane looked in alarm at Mrs Sinclair. “I do not know what to do.”
“Nothing new there, then,” the old lady mumbled.
“Talk to me!” Elizabeth cried. “Distract me, I beg you. What are you doing here?”
Jane winced in shame, for the answer ought to be that she had come for her. “I came to stop Charles leaving,” she admitted. “But that matters not at the present moment. ’Tis you?—”
“Of course it matters, Jane. I am so very sorry for you. You deserve a better man.”
“I know that is not true. I have been awful.”
Elizabeth did not argue. Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut and grimaced savagely. A long, tortured groan bubbled through her gritted teeth.
“Good girl,” Mrs Sinclair croaked, patting her other hand.
Elizabeth’s groan escalated into a strangled scream that went right through Jane.
“Oh, Lizzy!” She leant over her, peering closely, looking for what, she knew not. Mrs Reynolds appeared by her side, proffering a damp cloth. She thanked her, deeply obliged for something to do, and put it to use cooling her sister’s brow.
“Why did you not tell me?” Elizabeth enquired in a gasping, breathy voice.
“I confess I was ashamed my husband did not love me.”
“Perhaps, then, you ought not to have tricked him into marrying you,” Mrs Sinclair said tartly.
“I did not trick him!” To her sister, she said, “You must believe I had no idea we would be discovered. I was only trying to convincehim of my esteem. I feared he would leave me again otherwise. Lizzy, I am so sorry. For everything. I have treated you abominably. Can you ever forgive me?”
