My Dearest Mr. Darcy: An Amazing Journey into Love Everlasting

Chapter Seventeen Bundle of Joy

Lizzy continued to ruffle through his thick hair, mussing it up even further as she smiled tenderly at the dazed expression on his face. He stared fixedly as the words rushed through his brain. A split second of panic was quickly stifled, Darcy instantly on the alert and fully in control.

He nodded once, bruising grip loosening from her knees. When he spoke, Lizzy was surprised at the command and calm in his tone. “I shall inform Uncle George. Wait here.”

As if she planned on dashing off somewhere! Lizzy laughed, grasping his hand. “Dearest, put on your robe and slippers as you are shivering and turning blue. Then please stoke the fire. It is not yet dawn and by all accounts I will be at this for hours and hours, so there is no reason to wake the good doctor yet. Sit with me here, please? I want this time alone with you before all the craziness ensues.”

He nodded again, face serious, but rose and did as she bid. The robe was a brilliant idea as he realized he was quite cold once the immediate terror passed. In minutes he had a fire blazing and retrieved a blanket to place around them. He nestled next to his wife, drawing her legs over his lap and covering with a second blanket, just as another contraction consumed her. Remembering to breathe regularly as George had shown her, she leaned into Darcy's inner shoulder and submitted to the necessary pain.

He hugged her closely, laying a palm onto her belly as his eyebrows shot upward at the extreme rigidity felt. He quickly learned that the muscles would relax imperceptibly seconds before the pain itself lessened. It was like a wave: starting high above her navel and traveling downward until the entire bulge was firm as a rock, the tapering occurring in like manner.

“It is logical, if you think on it,” he said. “The muscles are attempting to push him out.”

“Shame he does not readily comply,” Lizzy responded with asperity. “If I was being shoved so forcefully, I would gladly leave the environment of hostility!”

Darcy laughed. “Well, there is more to it than that! Patience, my love, all will occur in its proper timing.” To which declaration Lizzy gifted him with a snort of disgust and withering glare.

Unconsciously he assumed the pattern of rhythmic respirations Lizzy utilized to maintain her serenity, unaware he was doing so until she exhaled finally as the contraction ebbed. Her belly resumed its usual softness, the baby quiet. He kissed the top of her head, pulling her closer to his body.

“Is the pain so terrible?” His voice trembled somewhat, but not as greatly as expected.

“Not as of yet. It is tolerable although I am quite sure it will intensify as time marches on. Pity, otherwise it would be an easy process.” She sighed, leaning her head back to see his face. “Can you believe we are going to see our son, William? I am so excited!”

He bent to kiss her lips, cupping her face gently. “I love you, Elizabeth, so utterly. You have made me the happiest of men. My wife, mother of my child.” He again kissed her briefly and then placed her head against his shoulder. “When did your pains start?”

“I think I dreamt through the first few of them but woke around two. I lay in your embrace for a time, thinking them just the usual pains, but they seemed stronger, more focused. And they did not stop. After an hour I moved here. I did not want to wake you.”

“You should have,” he scolded lightly.

“To what purpose? Other than keeping me company and warm, there is naught for you to do. I reckoned you needed your sleep so as to be rested for later when I truly need you. Right now… wait.” She gripped the fingers laced through hers on her shoulder, cadenced breathing initiated as another contraction began.

Therein started an arrangement that would continue until dawn was well past. They would speak softly of a myriad of topics designed to fill the five to eight minutes between each pain. Darcy held her in his arms, breathing as she did, softly caressing and kissing ceaselessly, murmuring words of encouragement, and never leaving except to add a log now and again. Lizzy dozed on occasion during the pause, supported by her husband's firm chest, and snuggly warm under the blanket and with fire roaring. If it were not for the unrelenting pains, it would have been a delightful, almost romantic interlude.

The sun rose gradually, faint twinges through the thick winter curtains signifying the start of a new day. “A day we will remember with clarity for the rest of our lives,” Darcy whispered into her hair, Lizzy chuckling.

“I suppose there will be moments I will wish to forget but likely shall not.” She paused, glancing at him with a serious expression. “William, promise me you will keep me awake and focused no matter what I say. I want to see our son the second he is born and remember the wonder of it. Promise?”

“I promise.”

By seven o'clock Lizzy's methodically occurring contractions continued every several minutes without fail but had not increased in power. She sighed as the latest contraction waned, shifting on the pillow behind her aching back. Darcy smoothed the hair from her face, observing closely for any overt signs of distress. Lizzy smiled, eyes closing as she drew his fingers to her lips.

“Perhaps it is time to inform the household of what is transpiring. Jane needs to be sent for and Mrs. Reynolds will be seriously vexed if not involved from the outset.”

Darcy frowned. “Do you feel it imminent, love?”

“Unfortunately, no. However, I do want to hear what my physician thinks. And I am thirsty.” Darcy rose, settling her as comfortably as possible on the sofa, and crossed to his dressing room where he knew Samuel would be busily preparing his clothing and bath for the day.

“Samuel, please ask the nearest footman to inform Dr. Darcy that Mrs. Darcy is having the baby. It is not emergent, but we request his company once he is dressed. Then can you inform Mrs. Reynolds? I will need her here as soon as possible. Thank you.” Samuel left the room with a brisk nod, Darcy standing in the middle for a minute. He took several deep breaths, allowing a wash of tremors to cascade through his veins. He closed his eyes, sending a prayer for strength heavenward. One second at a time, Darcy, he commanded himself, be strong for her and do not let her sense your anxiety!

Entering the room some ten minutes later, Darcy was again in charge of his emotions. Lizzy was reclining as he left her and immediately he noted that she was experiencing another pain, the furrows between her brows present and lips pursed as she concentrated on breathing. He knelt beside the sofa, taking her hand for tender stroking. She released the cleansing exhalation, squeezing his hand and smiling weakly. “I am so thirsty.”

“Mrs. Reynolds should be here any… See, any minute.” He stood to answer the knock at the door, greeting Mrs. Reynolds with a giddy smile. “Mrs. Reynolds, my wife seems determined to present me with our child today. Has Dr. Darcy been sent for? Excellent. First, will you notify Mr. Thurber to send one of the grooms to Hasberry for the Bingleys? I will pen a note to deliver. Secondly, ask the kitchen for a tray and tea, perhaps some juice as well. Let me think… what else?”

“Shall I inform Miss Darcy?”

“If she is awake, yes please. She can keep Mrs. Darcy company as soon as she wishes to. Whatever else you deem sensible; I trust your judgment at this juncture superior to mine. Oh, coffee, please.”

She curtsied and left, passing George Darcy in the sitting room. He approached with casual strides, tea cup in one hand and muffin in the other, dressed in a flowing garment of canary yellow with green edging.

“I was informed that babies are birthing hereabouts? Elizabeth! You are still pregnant!” He stopped abruptly on the threshold, feigning shock.

“Yes, Uncle, we thought we would wait for you. Now that you have arrived, perhaps you can work your magic and speed the process along?”

“Alas, my dear niece, magic does not reside in these hands. Only staggering expertise and superior knowledge. William, you do intend on dressing and shaving? Your baby's eyesight will suffer if greeted by such a frightful vision.”

“And your brash appearance is benign?” Elizabeth interjected.

“Babies love bright colors. Stimulates the retina.” He had crossed to the fireside chair positioned across from Lizzy, sitting and extending long legs nonchalantly as he bit into the muffin. “So,” he resumed while chewing, “tell me how we are faring, dear.”

Lizzy launched into a briefly detailed synopsis of her contraction history while Darcy stood nearby, not sure whether he was calmed or irritated by his uncle's blasé attitude. Luckily he had no time to figure it out as another pain began, Darcy swiftly kneeling at his wife's side to assist and comfort. George ate in silence while Darcy stroked Lizzy's forehead and murmured soft encouragement until the pain passed, leaning for a brushing kiss.

He sat back on his heels, yet holding Lizzy's hand, and turned to his placidly masticating uncle. “What is the plan, Dr. Darcy? What is your professional opinion?”

“Elizabeth, I fear you are yet in the early stages of labor. I could examine you, but it is not necessary. Trust me when I tell you that you will know when the labor is causing changes and nearing completion. The truth is, as we have spoken previously, the birth course will be set by the baby and internal forces. However, there are some actions that may affect the outcome.”

He sat up briskly, suddenly alert and businesslike. “Here is the plan. William, you will freshen up and dress, then go have a full breakfast…”

“You were serious about that?”

“Absolutely. Well, not about the baby's eyesight part, but you do need to take a few minutes for yourself.”

“I am not leaving my wife!”

“Dearest, I think your uncle is right about this. No, listen. I will need you more later, and you need to be fresh and energized. Food is essential for you as you get grumpy when hungry.” She smiled tenderly, caressing the hand clasped in hers. “And only I am allowed to become grumpy today.”

“I will not leave her, William, and Mrs. Reynolds should return momentarily. We will call you if needed, but trust me in that nothing will change in the following hour, sorry, Elizabeth.”

“Write to Jane and Charles, beloved, and take care of yourself. I will be fine.” She halted as another pain enveloped her. Darcy assumed his role as comforter.

George rose to answer the knock on the sitting room door, revealing a tray-encumbered Mrs. Reynolds trailed by three equally laden maids. “Well, well!” He declared with a broad grin and snatched a blackberry tart, biting hugely. “Mmmmm… Oh my, this is heavenly.” He sighed, eyes closed in ecstasy. “Mrs. Langton is a gift from God.”

“I believe these were for Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, Dr. Darcy,” Mrs. Reynolds said with a smile, “but by all means, help yourself.”

“Thank you, madam. Actually, the father-to-be is ordered to break his fast with his sister, and none of these delicious edibles are appropriate for Mrs. Darcy. She is restricted to liquids and perhaps fruits, if she can tolerate. Anything heavy will induce nausea.” He turned to one of the maids. “Miss, we will require a steady influx of hot, sweet tea and juices.” He continued his orders for the kitchen then enlightened the housekeeper on the current status of her Mistress.

Meanwhile, Lizzy's latest contraction ebbed with her husband by her side. He gazed intently at her face, smoothing over her brow as they simultaneously released the final breath. Lizzy chuckled lowly. “I appreciate the empathetic reactions, but you do not need to breathe with me each time. I fear you may faint!”

He shook his head, serious and troubled. “It is unconscious, for the most part, but I find it helps.” He traced fingertips over her features, pausing on her lips, “Elizabeth, I am so proud of you already. You are so brave and in control whereas I am near to collapsing in a heap. I abhor seeing you in pain, even for the cause of bringing our child into the world. I feel helpless.”

She pulled his head onto her breast, caressing through his hair and kissing his wrinkled forehead. “You are my rock, Fitzwilliam. I could not manage this without you. In fact, this morning, when my pains began, it was all I could do to not wake you! I love you and need you by my side. I was so selfishly happy when you woke up.”

“Which is why I cannot leave you now,” he stated firmly.

“Yet you will, because I will insist. Shhhh…” She pressed two fingers onto his parted lips, Darcy having lifted from her chest with a ready protest. “You will do this for me, to ease my mind. Write to Jane, bathe, eat, allow Georgiana to calm you, and return to me renewed. Then you can help me walk a bit. I am feeling cramped and edgy. The last few pains have hurt a bit more, but primarily I am thirsty and need to stretch.”

Darcy assisted her rising, lending both arms to aid her waddling gait into the sitting room.

“Mrs. Darcy, I brought cold juice as well as hot tea. There is food if you feel able, although Dr. Darcy suggests consuming cautiously to stave off nausea.” Mrs. Reynolds prattled on as she fluffed several pillows on the chaise, Darcy assisting his wife to sit comfortably while George poured a tall glass of juice.

Lizzy drank the entire glass in practically one swallow. Mrs. Reynolds busied herself preparing a cup of tea and small plate of sliced fruit, Darcy suddenly acutely aware of his attire. The housekeeper had certainly seen her Master in casual garb on numerous occasions, but the addition of another body into the room made him keenly aware of the number of people that would be shuffling through before the day was over. The idea of wearing full formal dress was unappealing, but staying clothed in merely a robe was untenable. On top of that revelation was the hollow emptiness in his stomach starkly awoken by the array of food on the table. All at once the thought of coffee was an immeasurable craving.

He glanced back at Lizzy, who was observing him with a tiny smile. “Go eat, but kiss me first.”

He bent obediently and complied, softly and with reverence, brushing knuckles over her cheeks as he tasted the apples on her lips and tongue. “I love you, Mrs. Darcy, with all my soul. I will return quickly.”

The respite was beneficial for both of them. Darcy wrote the note for the Bingleys, sending a groom to Hasberry posthaste. His plan was to then wash quickly, but Samuel had a bath drawn and the sight was far too inviting to resist. He bathed thoroughly, unable to avoid closing his eyes for a spell and allowing the soothing water to ease his tension. Not for long, however; the desire for coffee and food was almost as strong as the desire to return to his wife. Samuel, wisely and surprisingly, had chosen his Master's most comfortable clothes: breeches of soft wool, thin hose and house shoes, lightweight linen shirt, thin waistcoat, and summer jacket. All were quite inappropriate for this time of year yet somehow even the inexperienced valet knew his Master would be sweating before the day was over. A cravat was not offered nor would have been worn.

Resisting the urge to check on Lizzy one last time before descending, Darcy entered the dining room just as Georgiana was dishing up her breakfast. She glanced up with a smile, then eyes widened at the sight of her brother rather than her uncle as suspected.

“William! What are you doing here? It is not Sunday. And where is Elizabeth?”

“At the moment she is being attended by our Uncle George. She is going to have our baby today, Georgie!” All pretense at placid indifference vanished, Georgiana nearly dropping her plate in surprise. Darcy was grinning broadly, all the pent-up anxiety momentarily displaced by giddy happiness at his pending fatherhood.

“Oh William, truly? How marvelous! Is Elizabeth well?”

“So far, yes. It is early yet and I need to eat quickly to return to her side. This coffee smells divine! You know, my wife and our uncle forced me from the room. I was ill pleased at the notion, but now that I am here I comprehend the veracity. I am starving.”

They sat together at one lonely end of the vast table, Darcy attacking his food with relish after a mouth-scorching gulp of coffee.

“Be cautious, Fitzwilliam, or you will choke yourself!” Georgiana scolded with a laugh.

“You sound just like Mother. I think she despaired of ever teaching me proper table manners.”

“Well, if your son grows as rapidly as you did, I can imagine Lizzy suffering the identical despair. Father said you grew an inch each day.”

“Not quite accurate, but close. Pass the salt shaker please. I must hurry, however, as I do not wish to miss anything of import.”

“What is the typical scenario?” Darcy glanced at his sister sharply. “Yes, I know I avoided all birth-related conversations, but now I regret it. My sister is enduring a life-altering travail and I do not know what is to occur. Quite remiss of me.” She spoke the last with a tone of guilt, looking down at her plate.

Darcy patted her hand, swallowing before he responded. “Do not fret so, my sweet. Elizabeth would not wish it. All you need know is that the pains will increase exponentially as the baby nears his arrival. I have been versed on the procedure a dozen times and have seen more animals birth than I can recollect, yet I am still unsure of precisely what to expect. You can visit with her if you wish. I know she would appreciate it, but understand that she will be interrupting conversation for frequent pains.”

“How frequent?” she asked, face pale and eyes round in awe.

“They are occurring every five minutes or so now, but will grow closer.”

“Oh my! How exhausting that must be. Are you sure she would care to see me?”

“Of course! Jane will be here soon, so you should spend some time with her before.”

“How long will it all take?”

“No way to be sure. Uncle says first births can take up to a day and a half.” Georgiana gasped, hand instinctively moving to cover her mouth. “Exactly. Let us pray to God that is not the case here. I honestly do not think I could tolerate seeing my wife in pain for that long.”

“You can tolerate anything, William.” Georgiana stated decisively. “You are the strongest man alive.”

Darcy laughed loudly, tears springing to his eyes in mirth. “Your faith touches me, dear sister. Now I have a double challenge to live up to!”

Georgiana waited outside the Darcys' sitting room while her brother entered to see how his wife fared. Lizzy stood by the window, a bit hunched over and leaning into the wall with one hand tightly gripping the curtain. George sat nearby, watching her closely as he rattled on about a camel race across the desert, Lizzy clearly not listening attentively. Darcy crossed swiftly, encircling her waist as the contraction eased, Lizzy gratefully falling against the sturdy warmth of his chest.

He kissed her brow murmuring unnecessarily, “I am back, beloved. Georgie is outside if you feel up to visiting.”

“Yes, that would be lovely. Help me sit first. I have stood long enough. How was your breakfast? Did you eat enough?”

“I am perfect. Just missing you. Uncle, any changes?”

“The contractions are steady. I have ordered Marguerite to prepare a bath as the warm water is relaxing to stressed muscles and often helps speed things along. If nothing else it is good for the psyche to be clean and refreshed, eh, William?”

“Very well, Uncle, you were right and I was wrong. Happy now?”

“Blissfully!” He grinned, rising and stretching with joints cracking. He left for a moment to speak with Georgiana, Darcy arranging Lizzy carefully on the chaise with a blanket over her legs.

“Did you eat something as well? You need to keep up your strength.”

“A few bites of fruit in addition to the juice and two cups of raspberry tea. My doctor insisted, although now I feel a wee bit bloated. He definitely is correct about eating anything else. The very thought makes me ill. I do wish our son would hurry along. Perhaps his hesitancy to show himself is a sign that he possesses your reserved nature.”

Darcy chuckled, kissing her lightly on the lips. “As long as he possesses some of your spunk and humor I shall be content.”

Lizzy's fair disposition remained throughout the morning as she visited with Georgiana. The pains were unrelenting at nearly perfect five-minute intervals, allowing just enough time to rest and catch her breath and converse lightly. Occasional contractions were stronger, leaving Lizzy winded and with a hint of what was yet to come. Each time such a pain occurred she was torn between fear at the inevitability of what birthing her child would fully entail and hopeful excitement that finally the prodromal labor was at an end. The necessary but lengthy buildup as her womb gradually prepared to evict the baby was wearing, especially since Lizzy's natural disposition was not inclined for patience.

A prolonged soak in a hot tub with wonderful husband soaping and kneading aching back muscles was heavenly. Lizzy did feel revitalized and although the contractions persevered, the soothing water and massaging aided overall aches and pains.

George hovered nearby throughout, reading and eating the steady flow of victuals provided by the anxious kitchen staff. Mrs. Henderson was notified and arrived to assist Mrs. Hanford in preparing the nursery and Lizzy's heretofore unused chambers for the birth. Stacks of blankets and towels were brought in; the fire was laid and kept raging with several linens positioned alongside to readily wrap around a newborn babe; water was boiled by the pot full with buckets within reach for a hasty carry to the top floor; rags were freshly ripped for cleaning and binding; Dr. Darcy's instruments were carefully arranged on a small linen-draped table and covered while they waited; medications and herbal teas were mixed to be consumed as deemed necessary by the medical professionals; and the bed was warmed and protected from the mess to come.

Dr. Darcy's first extensive exam transpired after Lizzy's bath, her labor steady for roughly eleven hours. Darcy guided her to the smaller bed in the newly decorated bedchamber, settling her comfortably on the cozily warmed sheets, and nestling beside with her hands tightly clasped in his. His jacket had been discarded in Lizzy's bathing area, shirt sleeves rolled up past the elbows, and scattered damp patches drying rapidly in the heated atmosphere. The knowledge he possessed and experience gleaned from animal births lent a fair idea of what the internal exam of his wife involved; the mixture of anticipation at what the findings may be and embarrassment with the thought of observing such an intimate procedure warred for mastery in his gut, leaving him tense and lightheaded.

George was at his most professional, all jesting aside as he calmly spoke in his soothingly resonant voice, masterfully easing the tension in both patient and father-to-be. The exam was gentle and speedy.

“Good news. You are about halfway opened, my dear, and your womb is responding to the contractions as it should.”

“How much longer, Uncle?” Darcy asked.

“It is still impossible to guess with any certainty. First babies can be quite stubborn.”

“Is he tolerating the stress well? I have not felt him move in a dreadfully long time.”

George smiled, running one hand over her abdomen. “Babies do not move during the labor process, my dear, so do not fret. All seems to be well, as far as I can determine.” None of them voiced the obvious fact that there was absolutely no method of establishing what was transpiring internally. “Here is my suggestion. I can attempt to rupture your water sac, Elizabeth, but I would rather nature rule. Walking often helps. William, Pemberley's halls afford the perfect setting for your wife to receive some exercise as long as she can bear it. Niece, do not overextend and allow William to be your support, but stroll as vigorously as you can manage.”

Mrs. Reynolds approached as Darcy led his wife out into the hallway, announcing that the Bingleys had arrived. Jane joined the slowly lumbering duo as they ended their first circuit of the square third-floor corridor. They stood at the southwest corner, breath in synchrony as the latest contraction built, Lizzy releasing soft moans of pain into Darcy's shoulder. His mien was composed, but very pale with flickers of anguish in his light blue eyes notable even to Jane who could not yet adequately read her inscrutable brother-in-law's face. He saw her over Elizabeth's head, gesturing with one finger.

Jane drew near, laying her hand lightly on Lizzy's arm. “Jane! I am so glad you have arrived. I was beginning to worry.”

“A portion of the road was rutted horribly from the recent rains, requiring us to drive slowly. I feared I would be too late. How are you faring, Lizzy?”

They resumed their casual stroll as Lizzy, with interjections from Darcy, filled Jane in on the day's events. By the completion of the third journey Lizzy was weary, Darcy insisting she return to the room, but Lizzy stubbornly refused, compromising by resting on a corridor settee located near the stairs. She leaned into Jane's side, Darcy kneeling before her knees as another strong contraction overwhelmed.

“Where is Bingley?” Darcy asked Jane softly.

“I left him in the parlor with Georgiana. I met Dr. Darcy on the stairs heading that direction.”

It took a fair amount of persuading, but Darcy finally agreed to leave the sisters alone while he enjoyed a needed respite with Bingley and George. Lizzy and Jane sat in silence as a pain completed its cycle, cleansing breath and shuddering muscles signifying the end. Lizzy sighed, leaning her head back onto the wall. “Is it so horrible, Lizzy?”

“It is not particularly enjoyable! I so want to hold my baby, Jane. It is all I can think of and that somehow helps to persevere through the pain. Mostly I am just tired. I have been awake since early morning and the pain erodes my strength. I do not know what I would do without William.”

They spoke quietly, Jane lending her brand of serene support to the interminable travail. They spoke of inconsequential matters for the most part, the random converse perfect in distracting Lizzy's mind from the pain and fear of what was yet to come. Learning that her beloved older sister's expected pregnancy was now confirmed was a wonderful piece of joyous news. Even a particularly strong contraction did not dampen Lizzy's jubilant response. The idea of their firstborns being so close in age and physically near each other as they grew was cause for intense delight.

“Heavens, my back aches! I swear he is pinching every nerve in my lower spine.” Lizzy arched, hands rubbing the spasms to her lower back, squirming as another contraction struck. “Oooh! This one is… harder and…”

“Breathe, Lizzy. Squeeze my hand and breathe.” Jane grasped her sister's hand, gradual control attained and held for a minute as she concentrated on steady respirations, only to be lost abruptly as a gush of warm fluid flooded from between her legs.

Lizzy jerked in surprise, a sharp pain radiating from low in her abdomen. She gasped and released a small squeal, hands instinctively clutching her belly as she shouted, “William!”

Barely a heartbeat later Darcy was bounding crazily up the stairs, Dr. Darcy on his heels, both men instantly assessing the situation without pausing a step. Lizzy was lifted into her husband's arms, long purposeful strides carrying her to the bedchamber. His mien was grim: eyes tight with fear, jaw clenched, and lips pressed harshly together. Lizzy was panting and whimpering slightly at the pain gripping her belly, arms cinched over Darcy's shoulders.

George sprinted ahead, gesturing sharply at Mrs. Henderson and Mrs. Hanford. “The birth sac has ruptured,” he declared smartly. “A warm towel, Mrs. Henderson. Mrs. Hanford, ask Marguerite for a clean gown for Mrs. Darcy. William, lay her on the bed. Elizabeth dear, try to relax and breathe. The pains will intensify now; it is normal to do so. Thank you, Mrs. Henderson.” He took the towel and gently wiped her legs as he slowly lifted the saturated gown, continuing his calmly vocalized explanations. “Rest on your husband, Elizabeth, close your eyes and breathe as he is. This is to be expected and a positive development. It means your baby is nearing his arrival. Very good, dear. It is ebbing, yes? Excellent.”

He pressed one hand onto her softening abdomen, the other unhurriedly toweling up her inner thighs while casually nudging her legs apart. “Allow me to ascertain what changes have occurred, if any. There's a good girl, lean on William and take your ease.” He scrutinized and palpated carefully, assuring nothing had exuded other than clear water.

The pain had disappeared, leaving Lizzy trembling from the surprise. Now that it was over she felt rather foolish for losing control and yelling. She could readily sense Darcy's tension in the rigid muscles of his chest and arms as they surrounded her, and the raspy respirations echoing in her ear. Additionally she could feel the cooling wetness soaked into his vest and shirt from where he had held her. She peered up into his strained face, Darcy's eyes riveted on his uncle, reaching fingers to a pinched cheek.

“William,” she whispered. “Forgive me for frightening you. I should not have shouted.”

“Do not say that!” he snapped. “I want you to call when you need me! If you did not, I would be seriously vexed.” He kissed the top of her head rather perfunctorily, attention again centered on his uncle as he asked tautly, “Is all well, Uncle?”

“You have opened a bit more, Elizabeth, and the baby is lower. The contractions will come quicker now and be stronger. You will need to stay in bed, but can move about however you wish, lying to the right side often the most comfortable. William, erase your frown before it permanently creases your face and assist your wife into a dry gown.” George rose, crossing to the midwife and nanny for a quiet conference.

“Here, Lizzy, lift up and we will remove this wet gown,” Jane spoke softly, voice as serene as always cutting through Darcy's coursing panic. He inhaled deeply, eyes closing briefly for a silent prayer before aiding Jane in dressing his wife. In seconds they had Lizzy settled comfortably, propped on several pillows and Darcy's torso, Jane departing to speak with Mrs. Reynolds regarding a fresh juice order.

“Beloved, you should change into dry clothing,” Lizzy murmured. Another pain, far more intense than anything previous, had faded. She trembled slightly, faint and incredibly tired as she melted into Darcy's stalwart embrace, fingers laced with his and lying on the top of her swollen abdomen.

“It is insignificant. I will not leave you again, so do not ask.” His grip tightened and he pressed his cheek into her hair. “I love you, my dearest wife. Are you certain you are comfortable?”

“As much as is possible,” she laughed faintly, closing her eyes in an attempt to doze even if only for a second. “Comfortable” in any definition of the word became impossible as the subsequent hours unfolded. The contractions lengthened in both duration and intensity coupled with an increased frequency, which meant less time for her to recover in between. Those precious minutes were hastily consumed with ragged breathing and searing back pain. Somewhere in the midst she was incessantly plied with sips of water and cubes of sugar to keep up her strength.

Through it all Jane maintained her post to Lizzy's right side. Her placid strength, tranquil tone of speech, and gentle persuasion calmed Lizzy greatly. Since childhood Jane had been the steadying, rational voice amid Lizzy's ofttimes chaotic, impetuous nature. So it was now as Jane stroked her hand and forehead, murmuring pacifying sentences, relating memories of peaceful moments and places from their youth all designed to distract and soothe. It was successful to varying degrees as the afternoon waned into early evening.

Darcy kept his vigil to his wife's left side. Where Jane was the temperate tranquilizer, Darcy was the stabilizing stone. At times it was purely physical: his sturdy physique and capable hands essential for support and penetrating kneading to aching or cramping muscles. Other times it was his manly voice with resonant tones as he spoke of his love and pride, his soft lips brushing over her temples and knuckles, his fiercely kind eyes as he gazed with bottomless wells of adoration and encouragement. He seemed to instinctively know what she required at any given moment. If it was tenderness, then his voice and touch softened, stroking soothingly. If it was focus, then his voice deepened into the familiar ring of the Master of Pemberley, commanding her to concentrate and breathe.

“I cannot do it! Please make it stop!” Lizzy gripped his hand during one such incident, the spasms burning through the middle of her body in a fury. Her eyes were tightly shut, sweat beading on her brow, and head tossing to and fro while she whimpered.

Darcy grasped her cheeks in hands of iron, face inches from hers, voice low and resolute, “Elizabeth, look at me! You can do this and you will! Now, focus on me and breathe. Inhale deep, that is it, now exhale, good, and again. No! Open your eyes! Focus on me! It will pass. Breathe again and one more is gone, all the nearer to seeing our son. Excellent! I am so proud of you, Elizabeth.” And the litany would continue with kisses and caresses until the next pain.

None in the room sensed the internal struggle Darcy endured. A juvenile but persistent part of his soul wanted to scream in frustration, to rage against the impotence of a situation where the generally authoritative man of power was at the mercy of forces beyond his control. A small but very loud voice inside his head yelled at him to run, far away to some distant corner of the mansion where he could curl up into a fetal ball and hide from witnessing the agony suffered by the woman he loved more than life. Yet with typical, well-honed Darcy steel and discipline, he squelched those inner urges, recognizing them as childish and demeaning. Primarily he understood that despite his dismay at watching Elizabeth in her travail, there was in truth nowhere on earth he would rather be. As awful as it was at times, he knew he was providing a necessary service to his wife and partaking in a miracle. Always central in his mind's eye was the image of their baby, conceived in tremendous love, who would make his, or her, appearance to the world in due course. The thought of missing that advent was intolerable.

Dr. Darcy and Mrs. Henderson sat across the room, silent for the most part as they observed the unrelenting process transpiring on the bed. On occasion George would rise to assess Lizzy's progress, declaring with satisfaction that all was proceeding as expected. His dry humor, usually rather biting and sarcastic, was gentle with the perfect blend of wittiness and sensitive timing to ease the building strain. Mrs. Reynolds and Mrs. Hanford sat near the fire, keeping it blazing and rotating the waiting towels and linens. The housekeeper quietly communicated with Marguerite and Samuel, who loitered outside the room awaiting instructions for hot water or other supplies, and relayed information to Miss Darcy and Mr. Bingley. In fact, the entire household collectively sat on tenterhooks, no real work being accomplished as they awaited the news that all was well with their Mistress.

As dusk fell over the landscape, lamps lit and fires built, Lizzy successfully made the transition into the final stages of the birth process. Like all women down through the long ages since Eve, Lizzy instinctively sensed the subtle alteration in the contractions accompanied by an intense pressure felt low in her pelvis. Primarily it was an indescribable, uncontrollable urge to forcefully expel the cause of all her agony. It overwhelmed her reason, breathing no longer a viable option as the burning to her groin intensified torrentially; the heaviness demanding she hold her breath and bear down.

This she did, surprising her two companions who attempted in vain to persuade her to concentrate, but spurring her two childbirth professionals to jump up and lunge toward the bed. Darcy recoiled in shock when George sat efficiently on the end of the bed, spreading Lizzy's legs as he lifted the sheet. A quick probe confirmed what he suspected and after a nod to Mrs. Henderson, who turned to Mrs. Reynolds for instructions, he looked to Darcy with a beaming smile.

“Elizabeth is completely open now. Henceforth begins the real work, all else thus far leading up to this.” His fingers were between her legs, carefully palpating as she began to relax into Darcy's waiting embrace. “Elizabeth, look at me. Very good, dear. Now listen carefully. Your baby is very low and ready to be born. You are as open as you can get, making room for his body. Still, as I have discussed with William and he has shared with you, this can take time. The infant still has some distance to travel and you must use the remaining pains to bring him forth. Do you understand so far?”

They both nodded, Darcy wiping his wife's brow and neck with a wet cloth while Lizzy panted. Dr. Darcy resumed, “The contractions will space out a bit, but when they occur you must hold your breath and bear down, hard, with each one. It will hurt, Elizabeth, but you must persevere. Breathe when necessary, but keep pushing toward your derriere until the pain halts.”

“How long, Uncle?” Darcy asked in a hoarse voice.

“Let us wait and see how the next few contractions proceed.”

A flurry of activity erupted in the room. Fresh buckets of water were brought, George washing his hands and soaking several rags. Additional lamps were lit for illumination.

The Darcys noted none of it. Lizzy reclined on her husband's warm chest, cocking her head to better see his luminous visage. She smiled, raising a hand to stroke his cheek, and Darcy almost fainted with a surge of breathless joy. Never had she been more beautiful to him than at that moment. Her hair was disheveled and loose from its braid, face flushed and slightly puffy, lips dry; yet she exuded a radiant happiness that transcended the particulars.

“I love you, Elizabeth,” he whispered, cupping her face. “Thank you for allowing me to be a part of this miracle.”

She laughed, eyes twinkling and for the first time in hours responding with the friskiness of his Lizzy apparent. “Well, Mr. Darcy, considering you were an integral part of the inception of the miracle, it is only apropos you are present at its consummation! I would not be in this predicament if not for you and could not survive it without you. Now, do your job and hand me that glass of water.” She pursed her lips, blowing a kiss as she patted his smiling mouth with her fingertips, Darcy chuckling in a liberating release of nervousness as he reached for the indicated liquid.

The difficult task of laboring in tandem with forceful muscular spasms intent on expelling a somewhat pliable but bulky body through a physically much smaller space commenced. Neither Darcy wasted the effort at this juncture to marvel at the awesomeness of the operation. Instead, Lizzy embraced with enthusiasm the ability to be proactive for a change. The pain was intense, but at least she was doing something rather than lying inert at its mercy. Darcy quite simply could not think beyond the fact that he would lay eyes on his child in a matter of minutes. He was giddy with excitement.

Lizzy was serious and centered, not really needing the ceaselessly spoken encouragement now gushing from every mouth in the room, but appreciating it nonetheless. A half hour of concentrated effort passed, Lizzy exhausted and aching in every muscle, but strangely exhilarated and energized. Dr. Darcy kept to his seat, one hand on her abdomen under the draping sheet and the other stretching the flesh surrounding the birth canal. Mrs. Henderson stood by Lizzy's bent left knee, supporting and watching. Jane, per the midwife's teaching, did the same to the right leg. The sheet occluded full view, of which Darcy was thankful, and maintained modesty as much as is feasible in such a situation.

“Elizabeth, William, I can see the crown of your baby's head. There is lots of dark hair, not surprisingly. You are doing an excellent job, my dear. He is very low and it should not take much longer.”

However, three marvelously executed pushes later and the baby had not budged. Dr. Darcy, face impassive, deepened his probing. Lizzy squirmed, feeling his fingers uncomfortably seeking. “Forgive me, dear, but I need to palpate the baby's head… Ah! Now I see the cause. Typical Darcy, always attempting to be unique and ostentatious.”

Lizzy snorted, although she had no idea what he meant as far as her baby was concerned, while Darcy scowled. “Perhaps some Darcys I could mention,” he said haughtily. “I, however, prefer to be inconspicuous and ordinary.” Lizzy and Jane both laughed aloud, even Mrs. Reynolds hiding a snicker, to Darcy's confusion.

“You, my love, are the epitome of all that is not ordinary and at your height and with your presence are far from inconspicuous! We can discuss that later though. What do you mean about the baby, Uncle?”

Dr. Darcy was smiling at his scowling nephew, addressing the question seriously. “Your child is wishing to be born looking up at the ceiling when he should be facing the floor. What this means is, I need to attempt turning him or the final stage will take longer.”

“Do you want the forceps, Doctor?” asked Mrs. Henderson.

“Absolutely not!” both George and Darcy echoed firmly. “Forceps will not touch my son's head unless it is a matter of life or death!” Darcy barked with eyes blazed, Mrs. Henderson retreating a step.

“Do not worry, William. I can manipulate him with my fingers or, if he is stubborn, deliver him as he wishes. It may be uncomfortable, Elizabeth, I am sorry.”

She nodded, unable to speak as another contraction struck. The next several contractions were the hardest, Lizzy's discomfort increasing as the infant hesitantly responded to the physician's persistent direction. Mrs. Henderson was mesmerized, having never witnessed such a procedure, Dr. Darcy explaining the technique in quiet undertones as he worked.

Lizzy strained with the effort, releasing loud grunts and intermittent yells of pain. Darcy held his breath as she did, Jane also unconsciously mimicking the behavior. The room was quiet except for Lizzy's vocalizations and the sonorant urgings of Darcy. He held her enveloped in his arms with her back pressed to his chest, steady hands supporting her arms as she pulled on her thighs with each forceful squeeze.

“Stupendous, Elizabeth!” the poised physician commented. “Keep your legs open, give him room. The baby has turned and is coming! A towel, Mrs. Hanford, quickly! Harder, Elizabeth, do not stop now even if the contraction wanes. Push him out! Lots of hair, oh yes. Ears, nose, mouth… now breathe for a moment, dear, good girl, let me wipe the face, clear the mucus… Now again, Elizabeth! Let's get those broad Darcy shoulders out… the widest part of all… Yes! Here we are… Ha! A boy! Most definitely a boy!”

George's laugh was lost in the general mayhem bursting forth. Elizabeth collapsed onto her husband, tears of relief and joy springing to weary eyes. Darcy was laughing and crying, eyes glued to the draped knees of his wife while bestowing kisses to her head and hugging so tightly that if she was any more coherent she may have complained. Jane clapped with joy, Mrs. Henderson reached for the thick string to tie about the umbilical cord, Mrs. Reynolds proclaimed the time as 7:59 p.m. and bounced with delight, and Mrs. Hanford wept silently as she observed the initial movements of the newborn.

All of it was abruptly pierced by the lusty cry of a healthy set of newborn lungs, loudly protesting the overall treatment being inflicted upon him. George lifted the squalling babe glistening with birth fluid and streaks of blood, still partially blue and attached to his mother with forehead wrinkled in consternation and flailing limbs, for his first inspection by adoring and already hopelessly in love parents.

“Young Master Darcy, meet your mama and papa!” George declared with pride, holding the wailing and utterly irritated and uninterested infant aloft for another few seconds before placing him onto the waiting warm blankets held by Mrs. Hanford and tying the cord. He spoke aloud while attending to the crying infant, “He is perfect. All ten fingers and toes, color pinking nicely, male anatomy as it should be, head a bit pointed but not too bad, ears well formed, mouth intact… oh, good suck already, typical Darcy, instantly demanding nourishment. Here, Mrs. Hanford, take him.”

Darcy buried his face into Lizzy's hair, body shaking as he sobbed and caressed her arms, hoarsely crooning, “Elizabeth, I love you so! He is beautiful, you are beautiful. Thank you, thank you, thank you… I love you. We have a son. A son! Our son… so amazing, you are amazing…”

Lizzy clutched his wrists, turning to capture his mouth for a desperately needed kiss. Their eyes met, radiant and overflowing with love. She smiled, kissed him again and then leaned onto his shoulder. “Beloved, go be with him. I want one of us to be near him giving comfort and it must be you. Please?”

He hesitated, glancing longingly toward the nanny then back to his wife. “I will stay with my sister, Mr. Darcy. Go to your son.”

“Jane, after the events of today, do you think you may be willing to address me by my Christian name?” Darcy grinned, Jane blushing and lowering her gaze.

Lizzy laughed softly. “Please, go to Alexander. Kiss him for me.”

“Of course.” He cupped her face, delivering another lingering kiss before moving away, relinquishing her to Jane's ministering presence.

Mrs. Hanford and Mrs. Reynolds knelt by the low table situated before the fire on which lay the wiggling babe. His wails continued, currently augmented by the indignity of a bath. Darcy knelt, teary eyes avidly scrutinizing his son.

“Congratulations, Mr. Darcy. He is beautiful.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds. May I touch him?”

“Certainly!” the nanny said with a laugh. “He is yours, after all.”

Darcy beamed, hand reaching gingerly to stroke one finger over the baby's breastbone. Darcy caught his breath, freshly amazed at the velvet softness, personally never imagining any skin could be softer than his wife's. Laying his entire palm over the sturdy chest of his son, broad hand covering the whole breast and most of the abdomen with fingertips tickling under his chin. The frantic thrashing eased under the firm pressure, Darcy bending to bestow a kiss to the baby's damp forehead.

“Sweet Alexander, my son. This is your father speaking. That was from your mother, who loves you so very much. This…” and he kissed the downy cheek, “is from me. I also love you, my precious.” He continued the gentle crooning, the baby having calmed at the loving caresses and sound of the familiar voice. Darcy lifted inches to discover a pair of wide, cerulean blue eyes staring at him with studied intensity, tiny creases between the brows.

Darcy experienced an electrifying jolt rush through his body and his mouth fell open. Alexander, as if by purposeful intent, encountered his father's little finger and wrapped one chubby fist tightly around. Darcy stifled a sob, blinking furiously as the baby remained locked onto his face.

“He knows you, sir,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “Keep talking to him.”

He did, voice rough with choking emotion. Alexander's gaze wandered frequently, but inevitably returned to his father's shining visage and brilliant grin. The women worked diligently, cleaning thoroughly over all skin folds and body parts, scrubbing the mass of curly brown hair until lying in silken waves. In between the singsong droning, Darcy closely examined his son.

Alexander possessed his father's blue eyes but they were larger and rounder than his, like Elizabeth's, and set under a mildly prominent forehead. The nose was not exactly buttoned as Elizabeth's, but not broad and long as his; time would tell how it evolved. The thick eyebrows were totally Darcy's down to the frowning wrinkles and left arch. He did not have his father's chin cleft, but the overall shape was masculine with a sharp jawline. His fingers were long and hands wide, the feet matching in size. In fact his entire body was long and lean with sturdily defined muscles encased by unblemished ruddy skin. Not a single mark marred his flesh, only the mildly misshapen head preventing him from being flawless.

Darcy grasped one large foot, smiling as he murmured, “No wonder I could almost grip your feet, my darling.” He kissed the sole, nibbling briefly on the tiny toes, Alexander flinching and attempting to withdraw. “Ah, ticklish, are we?”

Alexander's answer to that inquiry was to release a forceful stream of urine, Darcy jerking backward and narrowly avoiding a blast to the face.

“What the…?” The women laughed loudly, Lizzy asking what was happening. “Our son tried to urinate on me! Well, at least we know that organ functions correctly.” The room erupted in laughter.

“He is clean now, Mr. Darcy. We need to dress him, protecting his nether regions before more accidents occur. I am sure his mother wants to see him soon.” Darcy's grin was nearly swallowing his face, turning to peer at his resplendent wife now in a clean gown and propped on fresh pillows while Jane brushed and replaited her hair. Their eyes held, volumes of unspoken emotion and sentiment passing between. In a few minutes the baby was diapered and wrapped loosely in a warm blanket sewn by Lizzy. Darcy carried him to Elizabeth, her arms extended in anticipation. Slowly the occupants filed from the chamber, Jane kissing her sister one last time on the temple and glancing shyly to Darcy.

“Congratulations, William,” she whispered.

Darcy beamed. “Thank you, Jane.”

Last was George. The proud great-uncle taking a moment to inspect the sleeping bundle of joy embraced against his weary mother's breast with jubilant and rather smug father encircling them both.

“Well done, you two, well done. He is lovely. Perfectly delivered, if I say so myself! William, ensure your wife rests. No staring at the baby all night in lieu of sleep. I will check on you later, dear. Notify me immediately if you feel strange in any way. Remember what we spoke of previously,” he said, directing the last comment to Darcy, who nodded.

“William, once you are alone, assist Elizabeth in placing Alexander on her chest. Keeping him naked against her bare flesh is the best place for him to be. He will stay warm and be very calm. Enjoy this time while he is awake.”

“When should I feed him, Uncle?” Elizabeth asked, not removing her adoring gaze from the rapt fascination with the baby's alert eyes.

“Just hold him for now, my dear. Let instinct rule. He will make his intentions known.” The doctor chuckled, bending to brush the infant's cheek with a fingertip. He placed a tender kiss to Lizzy's brow. “Congratulations, niece. You were amazing. You too, William,” and with a clap to his nephew's shoulder he departed, leaving the Darcys finally alone with their child.