Darcy looked about the small, dimly lit cottage. Though modest in size, it was clean and orderly. A wooden table stood at its center, surrounded by several chairs, and a fire burned steadily in the large hearth along one wall.
A door at the back of the room stood open, and in the doorway was a very surprised-looking young woman, whom he recognized as the “Miss Lizzy” the child had called after. She faced him directly, tilting her head slightly as she regarded him with a measured, appraising look.
She appeared about to speak when another sharp cry cut through the room.
Little Emma ran past her into the room and collided with Darcy’s legs.
He turned at once to the young woman. “My apologies for entering unannounced,” he said. “I was riding past and heard a scream.” Bowing slightly, he added, “My name is Fitzwilliam Darcy. I am staying at my friend’s estate, Netherfield. May I be of assistance?”
She glanced toward the inner room, from which the sound came, then back to him, and dropped a quick curtsey.
“Good day, sir. I am Elizabeth Bennet; my father’s estate is Longbourn. The Smiths are his tenants.”
Another cry sounded, nearer now, and Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “Mrs. Smith has begun her labour earlier thanexpected. I have sent my maid to fetch the midwife, but I cannot know how soon she may be found.”
Emma ran back to Elizabeth, tears streaking her cheeks, her small hands reaching upward. Another low moan came from the inner room.
Elizabeth hesitated; she glanced back towards the open door and then down at the child.
Darcy stepped forward. “How may I be of use?”
Elizabeth studied him for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. A faint, grateful smile touched her lips. “Are you at ease with children, Mr. Darcy?” she asked, indicating Emma.
Darcy knelt before the little girl. “Good day,” he said gently. “I am Mr. Darcy. May I ask your name?”
Emma glanced back at Elizabeth.
“Go on,” Elizabeth said encouragingly.
“Emma,” the child murmured.
Darcy’s smile deepened. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Emma.”
Emma bobbed in what appeared to be an earnest attempt at a curtsey, nearly losing her balance in the process. Darcy’s expression softened further.
“And might I be introduced to your friend?” he asked, gesturing toward a doll resting on a nearby chair.
Emma brightened at once, scooping it up. “This is Baby Doll,” she announced solemnly.
***
Elizabeth, satisfied that Emma was settled for the moment, returned to the bedchamber and knelt beside Mrs. Smith. Taking her hand, she spoke softly.
“The midwife will arrive presently. You are doing very well.” She remained with her through the next pains, wiping her brow with a cool cloth and offering quiet reassurance. When at last sheheard the cottage door open, Elizabeth rose at once and went to the main room, relief quickening her steps.
Her relief faltered when she saw it was only Millie who had returned, and alone. Elizabeth’s gaze flicked briefly to the table, where Mr. Darcy sat with Emma perched upon his knee. He had paused in the midst of his story at Millie’s entrance. Emma shifted impatiently, clearly expecting him to resume. “The midwife?” Elizabeth asked.
Millie shook her head. “She is over in Harpenden, miss. Not expected back until tomorrow.”
Elizabeth studied her for a moment. “There is more.”
Millie hesitated, then looked down at her hands. “Mrs. Bennet sent word you are to return home at once, miss, or they will go on to the assembly without you.”
A brief tightening crossed Elizabeth’s expression, but it passed almost at once. “Never mind my mother,” she said calmly. “Consider instead who else might assist us. Mrs. Smith is nearer her time than I had hoped.”
Millie thought for a moment. “The cook at Netherfield, Mrs. Potter. I believe she has assisted the midwife before.”
Darcy rose immediately. “I know the way to Netherfield,” he said. “If you wish, I can fetch her quickly.”
