There was another option, and that was to hurry the rest of the way to the Beaumont house and find someone to help, perhaps that Mrs. Attleby, who was supposedly devoted to Mrs. Beaumont.
Jane made one last attempt to redirect Mrs. Beaumont, going to her, taking her hands, trying to tug on her.
When Mrs. Beaumont shook her off and kept going off through the woods, however, Jane made up her mind.
She picked up her skirts and began walking quite quickly towards the Beaumont house.
She made it there in good time, and she went to the servants’ entrance instead of the front door. There, she poked a head in and asked if anyone could fetch Mrs. Attleby for her.
In only a few moments, Mrs. Attleby appeared, coming out of the back door to look at her. “You again,” said Mrs. Attleby. “Here to make more accusations? Can you not get that demon of a man out from underneath our roof?”
“Is he still here?” said Jane.
“He’s been drunk for days straight,” said Mrs. Attleby. “He and the master are up at all hours, drinking and laughing and playing cards, demanding midnight feasts be taken up to them. All the servants would be happy to see him go.”
“Well, I suppose that explains where he’s been,” said Jane tersely, shaking her head. “But this is not why I’m here. I came upon Mrs. Beaumont in the wood. Her hair is down, she is only in a nightdress, and she did not seem herself. I think she is looking for her babe and not being able to find him has sent her half-mad. I have seen such things before, you know.”
“Oh, dear,” said Mrs. Attleby. “You must take me to her at once. Make haste. Not a moment to lose.”
“I wonder if we should bring anyone else,” said Jane. “I tried to redirect her, but she fought me off. Maybe if there was a strong male servant who could… carry her?”
“Oh, the indignity of such a thing!” lamented Mrs. Attleby. “But, yes, I see your point. Wait here.” She disappeared back into the house.
Jane waited at the servants’ entrance for another five minutes or so.
Then Mrs. Attleby was back with a manservant she introduced as Mr. Fillingsworth.
Together, Jane in the lead, they set out after Mrs. Beaumont.
They found her not much further than the spot where Jane had left her. She seemed to have grown tired and had sat down on the forest floor, rubbing her hand over her face and muttering, “I have to find him! I have to find him!”
Mrs. Attleby went to her. She knelt down in front of her and spoke in low, hushed tones.
Mrs. Beaumont got to her feet and started to cry out at Mrs. Attleby. Who seized the other woman by the arms and assured her that she would bring him to her.
Mrs. Beaumont shook her head. “Bring him?”
“Aye, it is within my capability to do so,” said Mrs. Attleby. “I shall go and get your babe, your own little small one, and I shall bring him to you.”
Mrs. Beaumont let out a breath. She looked over and seemed to take in the sight of Jane and Mr. Fillingsworth for the first time. Her expression changed.
Mrs. Attleby was talking. “You must go back to the house and lie down and I shall bring him and lay him directly in your arms, all right?”
Mrs. Beaumont bowed her head. But then she nodded. “Yes, all right,” she said softly. She shuffled over the forest floor to Mr. Fillingsworth.
“I was instructed to carry you, ma’am,” he said in a very serious voice. “If your bare feet can’t abide it, I shall be happy to do so.”
Mrs. Beaumont shook her head, now seemingly embarrassed, as if some fit had passed through her, and she wasno longer carried away by madness but back in her right head. “I can walk.”
So, walk they did.
Mrs. Attleby left them, going directly for the nurse to fetch the babe, but Jane walked back with Mrs. Beaumont and Mr. Fillingsworth.
And then, somehow, Jane ended up in Mrs. Beaumont’s bedchamber, as the woman lay down and gazed up at her ceiling. Quite soon after she had gotten settled, Mrs. Attleby was there with Mrs. Beaumont’s tiny new son, who was fussing a bit until he was settled in his mother’s arms.
Then, he gazed up at her with wide eyes, and snuggled in against her, and quieted.
“He knows your smell,” said Mrs. Attleby. “He has spent his whole life growing inside you, ma’am. He knows his mother.”
