Page 64 of The Fee Entail

Charlotte

It was pure happenstance that I was with her when she woke up the second time. Lady Catherine (I could not make myself call her ‘Aunt’) had her first encounter in the dead of the night. Lizzy went back to sleep after five or ten minutes, and Lady Catherine let us sleep the rest of the night in peace before setting the house on end with her news.

I had no idea what, if anything, they may have discussed, but Lady Catherine seemed altered by the experience. I am not saying I know the great lady well enough to notice subtle distinctions in her countenance; I mean it was obvious even to Betsy. She looked as Sisyphus might if his rock were suddenly taken away: greatly relieved of the burden, but at the same time, not entirely certain what to do without his rock to roll up the hill. I hoped the feeling of relief would take precedence. Of course, all the assorted ladies Lizzy had somehow pulled into Rosings had not the slightest thing to repine about in the first place; but we all noticed and hoped that whatever burden Aunt Catherine carried (perhaps I can say that after all) would soon be lifted.

It was fortunately not the dead of the night the next time she awoke; for there was not the slightest chance I would be allowed up that late, even if I could stay awake, which I could not. With so many people wanting to sit with her, it was rare for one of us to get more than a couple of hours. We kept a small workbasket beside her bed with various projects, and a stack of books from the Rosings library. Everyone loved to read to Lizzy, and we pretended we knew she was somewhere inside listening and we were helping her, though I suspect we were mostly helping ourselves.

There is nothing in the world less appealing than feeling helpless, so we had a need to feel like we were doing something. I had sympathy for Mr Darcy, who was most certainly not accustomed to the idea of helplessness. We females are very unfairly instructed from birth in the idea, so perhaps it was easier for us, but it was still abominably difficult.

Reading, massaging her limbs, and feeding her water and the little bits of broth we could coax down her throat all took time, which was just what we needed. Whether we were helping her or not, we were at least able to convince ourselves we were doing all that could be done. I doubt Mr Darcy would have been driven out of Rosings under any provocation, had he not seen our dedication, and had he not trusted us to do what needed doing.

Our workbasket was unsurprisingly filled with baby clothes in various stages of construction. I happened to be knitting a tiny cap at the time. Everyone took a hand at one time or another, so most of the projects showed an alarming lack of regularity, but we did not mind. You could not look at an embroidered shirt done half by Jane and half by Lydia without going cross-eyed, but we cared not, and I doubted my baby would be overly concerned either.

I first noticed a bit of a stirring, but since we had seen such signs a few times by then without her waking, I tamped down my hopes. The physicians said she might do such for many days before finally waking entirely, and she might only manage a few minutes at a time for some little while. Our only instructions were to try to get some food down her when she did awaken, and encourage her to talk if she could, but not to be too hard on her if she could not.

I first noticed her hands twitching on the counterpane around dusk. First, they moved around, and I saw some other movement in her eyes, but nothing more for some long minutes. If I were a better person, I would have gone to get her sisters immediately, but like Lady Catherine, I wanted my share of her attention first; and besides, there was a very good chance this would be another bit of false bait. We would see.

I then saw her fingers running themselves over the counterpane and squeezing the fabric between them, as if she could not believe she was in such a fine bed. I expected her to be confused, and the best advice, in my opinion, we had heard was to allow her to come to her senses by herself. Of course, there were others who advocated everything from that to dumping cold water on her at the first signs of recovery. Naturally, those holding that opinion were only obliged to give it once in front of Aunt Catherine before they were chased out of Rosings with footmen searching frantically for some cold water to demonstrate the technique. Lady Catherine is not a woman to be crossed.

I saw Lizzy’s eyes open, and thought that might be a good time to talk, but I could not bring myself to do so. I have no idea whether I was being courteous or cowardly, but I simply waited for her to become aware of where she was. I saw her look at her hands, then around the room, and finally across the bed towards me. I was in the same chair Lady Catherine had used the night before, so she naturally looked that way as if expecting someone. I noticed her eyes were looking down as she came to see me. It was close to bedtime, so I was wearing a shift and dressing gown. They were very fine, just like everything in Rosings. My stomach was not all that prominent yet. It was obvious I was with child when I was in my normal gowns, but not so obvious at night. I saw her eyes gradually work their way up to my face, and was gratified to see a smile appear that looked like the sun coming out.

She tried to say my name, but only coughed weakly a few times, which finally brought me to my senses. I went to the side table for water and helped her drink it, all the while talking to her as soothingly as I could.

“Lizzy, welcome back! Welcome back, my friend! I am sure Lady Catherine must have told you how worried we all are. Pray, do not overexert yourself, but you truly need to eat something. You are half-starved. Do you think you could take a little broth, or better yet, bread? You have been asleep for some time, but you woke and spoke with Aunt Catherine last night. Do not fret. You are warm and dry and protected by an army of sisters. All is well! Just concentrate on resting and coming back to us.”

All this came out in a rush, and to be truthful, I probably left out at least half of the babbling I did at the time.

She drank her water and finally managed to croak out a few rough words. “Charlotte! What are you doing here? And where exactly is here?”

The more sensible physicians had said she might be confused, and we might have to explain the same things several times, but not to be overly alarmed. The fact that she recognised me was enough for one day, because the selfsame physicians warned that if and when she returned, she might be altered or reduced. I truly hated the way physicians talked.

I finally came to my senses. “You are at Rosings under Lady Catherine’s protection. Anne and you both had very near brushes with death, but Anne is recovering nicely… a bit testily, but nicely. You have been in this bed these almost three months. We are all here: all your sisters, me, and another friend of mine, Betsy. Your Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam had to go to Pemberley but will return instantly once the messenger arrives.”

I was telling her this and much more besides as I ran to the fire to get some broth. We had been coaxing broth down her for weeks, but it was always a messy business and not particularly effective.

Elizabeth allowed me to feed her until she had taken perhaps half a bowl and half a slice of bread, which was all I expected, and a bit more water, without very much comment.

In between bites, she said somewhat impertinently, “He is not my Mr Darcy.”

This seemed like it could be an endless (and pointless) discussion. “We shall see.”

She again seemed ready to argue but did not have the strength for it.

Finally, when she was sated, I felt guilty about not running for her sisters—not guilty enough to actually share her company, mind you, but guilty, nonetheless.

Elizabeth had been watching me carefully. “There is something different about you, Charlotte. You move differently. You look different, but I cannot put my finger on it.”

Considering she had barely moved her finger half a foot since waking up, that was not surprising, but I thought I should just get the surprise over with.

I stood and pulled the edges of the dressing gown tight enough for her to see the bump.

She gasped and tried to speak, but I waylaid her. “Do not ask about the father. We shall not discuss him any time soon, if ever. You shall have a new godchild in around five months.”

At that point, for some reason, I was very near tears. I had mostly tried to manage my own fears and worries myself while remaining strong for Betsy. I had always been closest to Elizabeth. I had a certain type of closeness to Jane, but like everyone else, I had never really pierced her reserve enough for true intimacy back in Meryton. The only person I had ever truly felt connected to was Elizabeth, and I was lately coming to realise just how big a hole her absence had left in my life this past year. I felt there might be things I could share with Lizzy that I could not share with Jane or anyone else; and I sensed that we all knew part of her story, but not all. The part we knew was bad enough, but I hoped I could perhaps hear the rest, and in some way, be of some service to her when the time came. Her connections had most certainly been of service to me.

“Come here.” She patted the counterpane beside herself.

I moved to sit on the bed, but she said, “No, not that.”