The Trouble with Mr. Darcy

Chapter Four Addition to the Loving Family

The Rosings visit was brief. Darcy was anxious to return to Pemberley and finalize preparations for their baby, and it was also the time for harvest and settling estate matters for the winter ahead. The latter could be handled by his steward and other staff, but Darcy thrived on being a part of the management.

The two weeks passed pleasantly for the most part. Lizzy divided her time between Anne, who she had grown fond of over the years, and Charlotte. The latter made no further mention of marital issues, a fact Lizzy was thankful for since there was nothing she could offer on the subject under the circumstances. By the final afternoon, sitting with Charlotte while the children played on the lawn, their conversations were light and almost as easy as in the years of their youth. Lizzy was pleased, even though she knew that the months apart would add strain to a relationship that was altering.

Lady Catherine was polite, or as polite as she ever was, but the combined annoyances of Lizzy and George Darcy had clearly worn on her nerves! Lizzy avoided Darcy’s aunt as much as possible and her teasing was subtle and checked, out of respect for her husband. George did not possess the same restraints, so his egging of her was more blatant, leading to verbal sparring bordering on arguments. There was no doubt that Lady Catherine was happy to usher them into the waiting carriage, her farewells brief.

Parting from Anne was bittersweet, both Darcy and Lizzy caring for her greatly and knowing it would be many months before they saw her again. Witnessing her pregnancy advance with health and happiness intact eased their minds. Still, even with the current evidence pointing to a positive outcome and the obvious devotion from her husband—Dr. Penaflor’s skills as a physician supreme and given an added boost via consultations with Dr. Darcy—they would breathe freer once the birth was over and the babe reported healthy.

They veered northwest to London, tarrying at Darcy House for a little over a week so Darcy could handle the numerous business affairs that had arisen while he was out of the country. Lizzy occupied her time with purchasing both necessary and frivolous items for the baby. Social activities were nonexistent, partly due to the time of year, since few of the ton stayed in London for the summer, but also because of the haste Darcy employed in completing his business so they could get home.

Finally the adventure came to a close. By mid-August, after nearly six months away, the family was comfortably resettled at Pemberley.

The first order of business was to move Alexander from the nursery into the spacious chamber that had been prepared for him while they were gone. Freshly painted and redecorated with varying shades of blue, the chamber was bright and cheery with a large bed that was perfect for parent-son playtime and story reading.

The room faced south with a panoramic view of the River Derwent and pastureland beyond. Sheep roamed freely over the grass, Alexander mesmerized by their sedate activities as observed from the tall windows while he played. It would be a few years before Darcy was told that whenever he and Parsifal went for a run across the meadow Alexander would sit on the window seat, transfixed for as long as he could see them. Mrs. Hanford positioned the rocking horse near the window and Alexander would “ride” the toy horse while watching his father and faithful mount streaking over the tree dotted glade, sheep hastening to move out of the way.

Transitioning from small nursery to larger room was not without problems, however.

He was happy to have wide areas of empty floor to set up his tiny armies and the miniature castle built by Uncle Goj and his papa. The collection of wooden blocks was assigned the northeast corner where they stayed within the allotted area but were never neatly put away. The fanciful replica of Noah’s Ark with ever-increasing pairs of animals was given a table with painted land and water for the appropriate creatures to dwell while waiting for the flood. The chest constructed by his father sat under one window and housed his favorite books, colored drawing chalks and crayons, and stacks of paper. Additional toy chests and shelves lined one wall. For a busy, nearly two-year-old, it was paradise on earth.

Then the nighttime came. Transferring to the big bed, even with his stuffed animal companions to keep him company, proved to be a traumatic event. He refused to fall asleep in the bed, so for two weeks straight he stayed with his parents until asleep, before being moved to his room. Unfortunately he would wake later, something that was extremely unusual for him. Mrs. Hanford tried to sleep with him but the bed, although large for a toddler, was not large enough for a grown woman, some dozen animals, and a child who flipped about constantly. Often he cried out when waking suddenly from a disquieting dream, bringing his nanny quickly to console. Other times he simply woke, grabbed Dog, and padded down the short hall seeking solace from his parents. This came with risks, such as the first time he did so when Darcy and Lizzy were taken utterly by surprise and learned a valuable lesson in privacy and security.

On the night in question, they deposited a deeply sleeping Alexander in his own bed and then retired to their chamber for adult entertainment of a most intimate nature. It was nearing midnight and not five minutes after a mutually dizzying culmination with their bodies yet joined and Darcy crushing his wife into the soft mattress. He lifted his head with a groan to bestow an intense post-loving kiss. Pulling away and bending to kiss her glistening shoulder, Darcy noted movement in his peripheral vision. He turned, freezing instantly and barely halting the reflexive expletive that rose to his lips, eyes locking with the wide-eyed gaze of Alexander.

The toddler stood not a foot away in the gap between the bed curtains, serious face unperturbed as he said, “Papa, I scared. Bad dream.”

Lizzy jerked and squelched a scream, turning toward her son, both of them paralyzed where they lay for what seemed like hours. The foremost thought was one of intense embarrassment, although both were sending silent prayers that they had chosen to keep the covers over their bodies as they loved and that the curtains were drawn. However, they had no idea how long he had been standing there, neither noting anything other than their own zeal for the past half hour at least.

Darcy carefully disengaged from his wife, blankets held securely, although there was really nothing either could do about their nakedness. “I am sorry, sweet. Come here, Papa will make it all better.” He opened his arms and Alexander climbed onto the bed, nestling snuggly in the warm circle of his father’s embrace, clutching Dog tightly.

Lizzy had regained her composure, barely, rising to look over Darcy’s body and reaching to comfort her son. “Are you better now, darling?” She smoothed the crazy curls on his brow, his eyes meeting hers in the dimly lit darkness.

“Better,” he replied. “You better, Mama? Bad dream gone bye?”

“I am fine, sweetie. What do you mean?”

“You scream. Ogre get you too?”

Darcy howled, Lizzy slapping his back and hiding her instantly scarlet face in his shoulder. “It is well, Alexander,” he affirmed with a gasping laugh. “Papa was here to make Mama feel good… very, very good.”

“Fitzwilliam!”

Darcy had enormous fun with that one, but from that day forward, he did remember to lock the door securely no matter how caught up in their passion they were. Of course, they also remembered to unlock it later just in case a frightened youngster tiptoed in, as was the case from time to time.

Alexander’s transition was aided remarkably by the admission of Mrs. Hanford’s daughter Lisa as assistant nanny. Alexander knew the nineteen-year-old well, loved her even, so was delighted to have her close by at all times. Lisa was smaller than her matronly mother and accustomed to sleeping in a bed crammed with nieces and nephews, so slumbering with just Alexander was a luxury! By the time Michael made his appearance, the upheaval was adjusted to and Alexander would dwell in this room until his marriage many, many years hence.

Aside from that drama, the weeks after returning to Pemberley were tranquil. Their excitement was high, of course, but they were also calm and well prepared, having been through it once before.

Shortly after returning to Pemberley, father and son stood gazing at the massive tapestries tracing the Darcy ancestry that hung in the grand foyer. Darcy traced the lines, reciting the names to the raptly listening baby who said nothing until his father read the name Anton Darcy.

His chubby thumb exited his mouth with an audible pop, followed by a moistly declared, “Anton.”

“Yes. That is correct, Alexander. Anton Darcy was our ancestor, over two centuries ago. His son was Herbert Darcy, then John…”

“Anton.”

Darcy looked at the face so close and resembling his own, the baby’s eyes riveted to the fine threads scrolled to form the name Anton. Darcy smiled. “Indeed. Anton. Probably from the Roman influence. A shortened form of Anthony, or perhaps for Mark Antony, the Roman general who ruled for a time as Emperor. Do you like that name?”

“Anton.”

And that is how it began. Everything and everyone was “Anton” from there on. Even Dog was dubbed Anton for a time. When they told him that if the baby was a boy he would be named Michael, Alexander nodded calmly then pointed to Lizzy’s belly and said, “Anton.” They laughed and tried in vain to correct him, but what happened instead is that they grew to love the name and realized it flowed nicely. Thus it was decided that their second child, if a boy, would be christened Michael James Anton Darcy. They did toss around a few girl names, but Lizzy was convinced she was having a boy, so serious deliberation was ignored.

The waning days of summer led into a mild fall. Darcy was busy nearly every day, but always allotted time to play with Alexander. Now that he was older, Lizzy relinquished her hovering concern to a degree and Darcy was able to take his son into the stables or town, to visit with Mr. Vernor or Mr. Hughes, and once to Rowan Lake for naked bathing. Darcy chose a docile mare to ride around the corral with Alexander on his lap, the toddler unrestrained in his joy over the activity, much to Darcy’s delight and Lizzy’s resignation.

In every way life was picture perfection. Nothing marred the tranquility permeating the atmosphere of Pemberley as they enjoyed the sunlit days and nights of family felicity. Neither Lizzy nor Darcy took it for granted, but it was natural to relax into the contentment and almost assume that it could be thus forever. Very shortly they would discover that life is never perfect and that even the best marriages can suffer.

Considering the probable conception time, when Lizzy began experiencing symptoms and quickening, and how the pregnancy was advancing, Dr. Darcy’s professional calculation was for a date of confinement roughly one month before Alexander’s second birthday, November 27 of 1819.

Of course, they were wrong. In fact, they would be proven wrong on numerous counts regarding the outcome of their second child’s arrival into their happy family.

Aside from the fact that Michael delivered on September 14, nearly one and a half months before anticipated, labor onset took Lizzy utterly by surprise. She hummingly proceeded to sew, decorate, and arrange household matters in the days prior to his birth, sure that she had over a month yet to go. She suffered none of the weariness, backaches, or false contractions that had been rampant toward the latter months of Alexander’s gestation, and aside for a mild ungainliness, she was healthier than ever before.

On the day of his birth there was absolutely no warning. She serenely wrote a letter to her mother while Alexander played with his Noah’s Ark on a rug by the window of her parlor, ignoring the minor irregular cramps that did not cause her to breathe heavily. In fact, she was more than halfway through the process before she believed it was real, calling for Dr. Darcy a bare four hours before the infant made his appearance.

Nearly every groomsman in Pemberley’s employ was sent to scour the estate for its Master and Mr. Keith, who had not thought it essential to share their agenda with anyone. Darcy was found and did arrive before the blessed event, relieved of his considerable self-reproach by a barely sweating Lizzy who assured him with a smile that she was feeling fine!

“Is it not too early, Uncle?” Darcy’s voice cracked, his face screwed into a worried frown with sweat beading on his brow worse than Lizzy.

“Babies come on their own timing,” George answered with a jovial smile. “Early or not, your son is coming, so let’s not worry about that right now. Fortunately you have me, the best physician in all of Derbyshire, if not England, and since it appears my formidable skills will not be called into play for the deliver of this precocious infant, I may prove my worth after he is born.”

“No offense, Uncle, but I hope not.”

“You worry too much, William.” Lizzy patted his cheek, gazing into his face with shining eyes from her perch against his broad chest. He was trembling, partly from the frantic ride back to Pemberley and pell-mell dash up two flights of stairs, but also from excitement mingled with fear. He could not believe it was happening today! Lizzy, conversely, was calm in between contractions. She spend more time trying to comfort him than the other way around, only losing her composure once it came time to push the baby out.

The wild drama was somewhat anticlimactic as Michael slipped into the world with minimal effort on Lizzy’s part. That was a miracle it would take her months to fully appreciate due to her and Darcy’s all-consuming preoccupation over his survival.

Michael was a fragile infant who required careful handling. The respiratory distress that George most worried about never transpired. Michael’s lungs were healthy, as he would display in due course. Rather, his delicacy arose in the vicinity of his gastrointestinal area, Dr. Darcy indeed proving his worth. The initial month was a trial, no other way to state it. Lizzy produced copious amounts of milk, but Michael simply did not have the strength to nurse on more than one side at a time and often was too sleepy to do even that. In the first week he lost precious ounces he could not afford. George encouraged the anxious parents to wake him every two hours for feedings, a schedule that did work in filling his tiny stomach, but was exhausting on Lizzy and irritating to an already finicky newborn.

Additionally, he was extremely sensitive in the amounts he could consume. Vomiting after each feeding became the norm with the fussiness of true colic following. Lizzy monitored every bite that passed her lips, obsessed with discovering what foods were most distressing to his stomach. Lizzy insisted on keeping him close and attending to caretaking since no one else could feed him, and he notably slept and digested better when nuzzled onto her chest. Darcy barely managed to touch his son in those early weeks, Mrs. Hanford even less. Without realizing what was happening, Darcy gravitated toward caring for Alexander since Lizzy seemed to have forgotten the toddler’s existence.

George experimented with numerous herbal tonics, not finding the precise combination that allayed the worst of the messy symptoms for nearly three weeks. It was only then that the babe began to gain weight and achieve a healthy, ruddy glow with plumping cheeks, softening skin, and brightening eyes. By his one-month birthday he had reached six pounds, a day of rejoicing for his frantic parents.

It was not until Michael began to improve and life settled into a semblance of order that the exhausted Master of Pemberley gazed beyond the confines of the nursery, Alexander’s room, and the bedchamber. The first shocking revelation was the physical appearance of his wife. The weight gained during her pregnancy had gone, leaving her gaunt and pale. Gray circles rested under her troubled eyes. Once rosy, full lips were chapped and dull.

Darcy’s aspect was not much better, he too having missed more meals than normally required to keep a man his size functioning, but he was hale compared to Lizzy.

Dr. Darcy watched them closely during those stressful first weeks and did his best to encourage rest and an adequate diet. A couple of thorough examinations determined that Lizzy was recuperating speedily from the birth itself, so other than plying her with strengthening teas and trays of hearty meats and fruits—most of which were left barely touched—he took no overt action, confident that once Michael improved they would as well.

Darcy, however, was profoundly disturbed. He was also disgusted with himself, engulfed with guilt at what he perceived as failing in his obligations. Therefore, in true Darcy form, he took charge of the situation.

“Elizabeth, Michael is past the crisis. His temperamental nature and crankiness is probably here to stay. You, however, are becoming increasingly cranky. I am ordering you to rest more often.”

“Ordering?”

“Do not bristle, darling.” He smiled at her scowl. “I am not demanding anything untoward. You need to rest and consume healthier meals for Michael’s sake as well as your own.”

Initially she complied. She left the nursery from time to time, dined in the dining room with Darcy and George, took walks in the hallway, and twice was enticed into the private garden with Darcy. She slept better at night and napped during the day with Michael. She refused to leave the bedchamber close to the nursery—this was extremely annoying to Darcy—and she always hurried back after any absence. But the improvements were pleasing to him, and to George, and for a week or so it seemed as if the tide was changing.

Yet on one point she stood firm and that was her unwillingness to abdicate Michael’s care to his nanny. She was compelled by some untamable force to touch him and check on him constantly. The fear of losing him had taken hold of her heart and she could not yield. Furthermore, she guiltily plunged into an urgent desire to care for and be with Alexander, thus consuming more of her time and energy.

Rapidly, her tenuous grip on health faltered as the stress of her set demands took a toll. When Darcy attempted to reassert his authority she refused to listen, no matter how calmly or rationally he spoke. Frustration mounted and petty spats were the result of nearly every conversation. Darcy’s natural patience held for a time, but the first in a series of intense arguments transpired over Michael’s christening.

“He will be six weeks old tomorrow, my love. He is healthy and strong, the weather is relatively fair, and it must be done before Richard and Simone depart for Europe.”

“No. He is still too small.”

“Elizabeth, be reasonable! He is nearly eight pounds now. He eats well, rarely regurgitates, and the colic is lessening with Uncle’s tonic. You are allowing your fears to rule your judgment.”

“If anything happens to him…”

Darcy gently clasped her arms, speaking softly. “Nothing will happen to him, dearest. He needs to be named and blessed. This is important…”

“More important than his life? Would you doom him to an early grave?” She spat, shaking off his comforting hands.

“Elizabeth! That is unfair and ridiculous! I would never do anything to jeopardize his life. How can you intimate such a thing?” Darcy was truly aghast.

“I will not allow him out of the house. That is final, William. It can wait until spring.”

“His christening will not wait until spring.” He spoke flatly, anger constrained and simmering. “I will grant one more week, that is all.”

“But…”

“There are no buts, Elizabeth. That is final.”

Lizzy stared furiously, trembling in rage, eyes filling with tears. Darcy sighed, moved despite his anger by the emotions he knew controlled her logic. He reached to caress her cheek, but she stepped away. “If he dies it will be entirely on your head, Mr. Darcy.” And she pivoted, exiting the room without a backward glance.