Chapter Two
The house was silent as Elizabeth entered the vestibule. Her sisters remained in the walled garden on one side of the house, so avoiding their sight was simple. Her home felt eerily calm with her sisters outside. She could no longer hear her mother from upstairs; indeed, she heard nothing, and a feeling of trepidation stole over her.
The baby began to fuss, and she gently shushed him. Her arms ached, so she tucked the valise just inside the door of her father’s study before going in search of him.He must be with Mama, for he is no longer here,she thought, glancing around the empty room.
Now carrying the basket in two hands, she climbed the stairs to the mistress’s chambers. The door was slightly ajar, and she heard weeping from within.Oh no.She bit her lip before nudging the door open. There across the room, her father knelt before the bed, his face buried in the coverlet. His sobs carried, and blind to anything else, Elizabeth went to his side. As she approached, she noted her mother’s still figure upon the bed. Her face was pale and drawn, her eyes closed. Her chest did not rise and fall in sleep.
“Papa?” Elizabeth asked, her voice quivering. “Is Mama…” she trailed off, afraid to hear the answer but already knowing what he would reply. Her palms felt sweaty, and she tightened her grip on the basket’s handle.
Mr Bennet looked up, surprised. Never had Elizabeth seen her dear Papa weep, and it was a heart-wrenching sight. His cheeks were wet; hisspectacles discarded. He looked utterly wretched as he took a shuddering breath.
“My dear Lizzy.” He fumbled with a handkerchief in his hands, wiping his eyes before standing. “I am so sorry, my dear. Your mama…” he paused, choking on another sob, “…and your brother. They are gone.”
Elizabeth felt tears welling in her eyes. “No,” she whispered, though the truth lay before her. “No, she cannot be—it is not possible!” Dear Mama, who had fought so hard for her girls, attempting to raise them as gentlewomen though she had no experience.
“What have you there?” The voice of the local midwife made them both jump. She came to Elizabeth’s side and stared down into the basket. “Miss Lizzy, what have you there?”
Her sorrow forgotten, she extended the basket, unsure to whom to give it. The babe let out another wail, drawing Mr Bennet’s attention.
“Come here, love.” The midwife, Mrs Tanner, lifted the child and cradled him in her arms. She unwrapped the blanket and examined him. He let out a plaintive cry, turning his head back and forth as if looking for food or comfort.
“It is a boy,” Elizabeth whispered. “There was a carriage accident. None survived but him. His mama… She died to save him.”
Mrs Tanner looked up sharply. “None to claim him?” she asked. “What about identification? Next of kin?”
“I brought her valise, but nothing else was there. The coach was unmarked.” Elizabeth fell silent, fearful that she had done the wrong thing.
Mrs Tanner moved to the bed, laid the baby down and lifted his gown. “The cord is no longer attached,” she murmured. “I would say this child is at least a month old. With his size, he appears almost like a newborn.”
She turned to look at Mr Bennet, raising an eyebrow. Her look seemed to carry some meaning, and Elizabeth’s father regarded the woman steadily. “I know it is not my place, sir, but you have been presented with an opportunity. My mother… Well, after my father died, we were cast from the estate in favour of a distant cousin. She worked herself to death, leaving me and my two younger sisters alone at a tender age. I know your situation, Mr Bennet.”
“I might marry again.” Papa took another breath. He sounded hesitant…doubtful.
“Tosh.” Mrs Tanner wrapped the baby up and cradled him again. His cries stopped, and she bounced him up and down. “It is clear you loved your wife. And you have your girls to think of. Could you subject them to a stepmother who might treat them poorly? Would you not rather secure their future?”
Still on his knees, Mr Bennet’s drawn face became a look of speculation. “In truth, I have no desire to find another bride. Wives are a trial—forgive me, Mrs Tanner, for my blunt speech.” He rubbed his chin speculatively. “Perhaps this child is a gift from Providence.”
Elizabeth looked back and forth between the two adults, her comprehension of what Mrs Tanner suggested growing more certain. “You mean to pass this foundling off as my brother?” she asked incredulously.
“Indeed.” Mrs Tanner turned to the young lady. “Twins are a rare thing, and it is not unheard of for one to survive and the other to perish. The mothers are often lost as well. No one need know.” Her voice softened. “It is a difficult decision to make, especially in the face of such a tremendous loss. There is no time, however, to waste. Soon, the maids will need to be summoned to prepare the bodies. We will need to have everything arranged before then.”
“And what is the price of your silence?” Mr Bennet sounded nonchalant, as if they were not discussing a great deception. He sounded as though he were remarking upon the weather or the state of the woman’s health.
“My son—my only child—took his family to the Americas. I wish to join them. He is married and wishes me to live in his house. I ask only for the cost of passage and one thousand pounds. That, along with my savings, will see me through in comfort. I will not be a burden to him.”
“What you are suggesting could ruin my family. If I do this, you will remain silent?”
Mrs Tanner rocked the baby gently and did not look up. “I shall take this secret to my grave—I will not record it in my journals, nor in personal correspondence. In exchange, I can live out the rest of my years in peace and comfort. I should be forced to work until the day I die without this boon.”
Mr Bennet was silent. Then he struggled to his feet. “Elizabeth, take the baby to my study,” he said. His tone brooked no argument, and so she stepped forwards and held out her arms. Mrs Tanner placed the precious bundle there, caressing the downy hair before turning back to negotiations.
Elizabeth hurried from the room. There was not a maid in sight. It was almost as if the house were empty. There were distant noises from below stairs; would they stay there until they were called? Anxiously, she took the child to the study, closing the door behind her. He slept once more, though he fidgeted. Sitting in a chair near the fireplace, Elizabeth examined him. The blanket he was wrapped in was finely made, and she noted some embroidery there. Shifting slightly, she twisted the blanket until it was visible. The loopy letters were elaborate. “TdB?” she whispered. “Are those your initials? But why is the ‘d’ lowercase?” The baby yawned in response.
Next, she unwrapped the precious bundle, hoping to catch a glimpse of the child’s gown. Once more, the fabric was very fine, and every detail appeared to have been painstakingly stitched. “Your mother wasdressed in the latest fashions,” she murmured. “You are not the son of a tradesman or a labourer.”
The door opened, and she looked up. Mr Bennet walked in. His face did not look as sorrowful as it had when she first saw him, though he still looked drawn and tired. He came forwards and took the seat beside her. “Give me the boy, Lizzy,” he instructed.
She transferred the bundle to his arm. Her father looked down at the boy. “He is very small,” he murmured, running a hand over the boy’s head. “What do you think of Mrs Tanner’s suggestion?”
