“My father owned an inn at Newcastle — the Boar’s Head. I used to help with the serving — two of my sisters still do, working for the new owner, but he couldn’t afford to keep all of us. Anyway, Mr. Wickham dines there frequently, and so did Mrs. Stanford’s captain. One night Mr. Wickham and Captain Tilney got to talking, like gentlemen do after they’ve first got to drinking. Mr. Wickham mentions that he grew up at a place called Pemberley and brags about his connections to the Darcy family. The captain says he has heard of Pemberley and the Darcys from his father, and asks all sorts of questions about the late mistress and some statuettes she might have had. I kept my mouth shut and the tankards full, but Mr. Wickham, he can’t be in a room without having his eyes on three girls at once and he noticed me listening.
“Well, then my father died and our money ran out, and after the captain’s accident Mr. Wickham comes to me and asks do I remember that conversation, and I say yes. He says he can get me a position at Pemberley if I’m willing to help with some business the captain left unfinished. I ask what kind of business and he says the statuettes are hidden someplace at Pemberley and you and Mrs. Darcy are looking for them but if we find them first I shan’t ever have to worry about money again. I say that sounds like stealing and he says the ivories really belonged to Captain Tilney, who wanted to give them to his lady except he got killed first. Nell was sick and the two littlest ones had no shoes and our landlord was at the door every day looking for his rent, so I agreed. Mr. Wickham brought me here and got me a position as a housemaid, just like he said.”
Darcy would speak to Mrs. Reynolds later to learn how Jenny had come to be hired. The housekeeper knew Wickham was not to be trusted, so some intermediary sympathetic to the former steward’s son must have brought Jenny to her attention.
“What instructions did you receive?”
“To use my access as a household servant to learn all I could about the ivories.”
“In other words, you were to spy on Mrs. Darcy and me.”
She dropped her gaze. “Yes, sir. Whenever I had news, I sent word to Mr. Wickham or Mrs. Stanford, and one of them would meet me. About a fortnight ago, Mrs. Stanford came to Lambton and has been there ever since. Mr. Wickham is there now, too.”
Captain Tilney’s mistress had probably come directly after Darcy had seen her in Newcastle, his visit having inadvertently alerted her to developments in his and Elizabeth’s own investigations. Under different circumstances, Darcy might have appreciated the irony of Mrs. Stanford being at Pemberley whilst he traveled the country searching for her.
“Where do they go now?”
“I do not know for certain, sir, but I think Northanger Abbey. When nothing turned up in the marigold beds last night after all of Mr. Wickham’s digging, they said something about Mrs. Tilney’s garden.”
Wickham had violated the flower beds. He had suspected as much. “What can you tell me about the quilt in the nursery?”
She looked up quickly. Guilt flashed across her features. “I feel terrible about that, sir. Truly I do! It was such a pretty quilt. But after I told them what Mrs. Darcy said, about it maybe holding a clue, and then finding nothing in the garden with the marigolds, they insisted I see whether something was sewn inside. I didn’t want to rip it apart, but they were terribly ugly about it. They said ‘in for a penny, in for a pound,’ and that I was already involved so deeply in their scheme that they had only to snitch to you and it would be Botany Bay for me.” Her chin trembled again. “Please, sir — you won’t send me to gaol, will you?”
Darcy, having experienced firsthand the horrors of gaol, could not lightly subject anybody to such an ordeal. Yet Jenny’s offenses, particularly the theft of his mother’s statuette, were grave.
“I shall have to give the matter further consideration. In the meantime, I will place you in the custody of Mr. Clarke.” The steward would ensure Jenny was closely watched until Darcy could devote attention to her fate.
Just now, there was another woman at Pemberley whose welfare concerned him far more.
“I dare say we could do very well without you; but you men think yourselves of such consequence.”
— Isabella Thorpe, Northanger Abbey
Mrs. Bennet waylaid Darcy en route to the bedchamber.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy, is it not exciting? Lizzy is brought to bed! I knew she was too fat to last another fortnight! But I do not believe my nerves can bear the waiting. Thank heaven the doctor is come — though he would not let me stay in the birthing room. Something about hearing himself think.”
The news of Dr. Severn’s arrival was most welcome. Darcy had not wanted to leave Elizabeth entirely in Mrs. Godwin’s care while he dealt with Jenny, but he’d had no choice. Now the physician could take command.
He found the bedchamber scene much altered from what it had been when he departed. Tension greeted him at the door. Elizabeth was out of bed, leaning on Mrs. Godwin and Lucy for support. Dr. Severn stood beside them, pointing toward the bed and ordering her into it.
“Is aught amiss?” Darcy asked.
“I came in the room and found Mrs. Darcy walking around, of all ridiculous notions,” Dr. Severn said. “And this midwife encouraging her.”
“I was uncomfortable in the bed,” Elizabeth explained.
“Of course you are uncomfortable. You are giving birth, not hosting a ball. Now do as I tell you. Get back into bed and stay in your place.”
“Indeed, Doctor,” said Mrs. Godwin, “I do not see the harm in allowing Mrs. Darcy to—”
“Now that I am come, Mrs. Darcy has no further need of your learned advice. You may leave now.”
“Perhaps Mrs. Godwin can assist you,” Elizabeth said.
He glanced at both women disdainfully. “I do not require, nor desire, the assistance of an ignorant old woman. I have overseen hundreds of births.”
“So have I,” Mrs. Godwin said quietly. “And most benefit from additional sets of hands.”
“Mrs. Darcy’s maid and the other servants can perform any mundane tasks required.”
Elizabeth looked at Dr. Severn with irritation. “But do you not think an experienced—”
“Get back in bed.”
The physician clearly was not having the calming effect on Elizabeth — or himself, for that matter — that Darcy had intended when he’d engaged Dr. Severn last autumn. Indeed, the man’s arrogance and conceit instead undermined Darcy’s trust in his expertise. Increasing the distress of one’s patient hardly seemed beneficial to anybody.
“Elizabeth, perhaps now that you have had your stretch, you might return to the bed,” Darcy suggested, attempting to mollify both doctor and patient.
She cast him a look that said Et tu, Darcy? but acquiesced. While Dr. Severn glowered at the midwife, Darcy and Mrs. Godwin helped Elizabeth back into bed. Darcy noticed that she had secured the scrap of cloth from the statuette around her wrist.
“I found Jenny and questioned her thoroughly,” he said. “She asserts that she added nothing to your tea, and I am inclined to believe her.”
Relief crossed his wife’s countenance, though plenty of distress remained. “Did she surrender the ivory?”
“Unfortunately, she had just passed it to Mr. Wickham and Mrs. Stanford when I discovered her, and I could not question her and pursue them at once. But we shall retrieve it, I promise you.”
Another pain took hold of Elizabeth. A soft whimper escaped her. The pain was expected, but that fact did not make it any easier for Darcy to witness.
“Mrs. Darcy, will you cease that moaning?” Dr. Severn snapped. “It is most irritating, not to mention terribly unbecoming in a lady of your station.”
“But I—” She gasped for breath between words. “Hurt.”
“You and every other woman in travail. What did you expect? Women are supposed to endure pain while giving birth. It is the natural way of things.” He turned his back and began withdrawing his array of torture devices from his black bag. “Demonstrate some selfcontrol, or we are in for a long night of it.”
Elizabeth looked as if she were about to cry. She gripped Darcy’s hand so tightly he thought his fingers would break. Did the doctor have no human compassion?
Mrs. Godwin took her other hand and rubbed the small of her back. “This one is almost over. Take a deep breath and release it slowly, as we did before. There now — it has passed. With the next pain, we shall count together again to distract you, all right?”
The midwife’s words soothed Elizabeth, and she nodded. The afflicted expression left her face, replaced by one of trust and calm determination.
“You shall do nothing of the sort,” Dr. Severn declared. “That ridiculous counting will drive me to distraction. Mrs. Godwin, I said you may leave. You as well, Mr. Darcy. The birthing chamber is no place for a man.”
Darcy was beginning to think the same thing. At least, in regard to one man in particular.