Authors: Linda Wells
“OH!” She gasped and her face reflected the sudden onslaught of undeniable pain.
“Oh Lord!” Darcy cried and turned to the door. “Mrs. Reynolds! Somebody!” He turned back to her in time to see her curl up into a ball and whimper. “Dearest? Is it coming fast?” She nodded and panted, her eyes opening wide and then squeezing shut as she finally gave voice to the agony of the intense contraction.
“Oh . . . I . . . I am wet!” She gasped and Darcy looked to her dress, it was soaking. “Oh it hurts!”
“Sweetheart . . .” Darcy quickly removed his coat and rolled up his sleeves. “What am I to do with you? Can we make it upstairs?”
“Noooo!” She screamed and panting she shook her head, “Will, it is like with Rosa, it is so fast . . . oh . . . oh . . . so . . . oh, Will, it feels so . . .” She reached for his hands and stared into his eyes. “I want your hands on me, Will, no one else. Only you.” She gasped again and cried out. “OHHH!”
Whipping the blanket from her, he laid it over the bare wood of the floor before the fire. He looked around desperately and pulled over an overstuffed hassock, and piled pillows against it. Then standing above her, he shook his head, and scooped her up in his arms to carry her over to her makeshift birthing bed. “You did this on purpose.”
“Yes.” She grimaced and held her breath.
“Breathe, Lizzy, breathe.” He whispered and kissed her. “I am going to look and see.” She nodded and he lifted her skirt above her knees. Looking back up, he stared at her. “How long have you been labouring? You are ready to give birth.”
“Not too . . .” His look demanded the truth. “A half hour after you collapsed in exhaustion from our lovemaking.” She smiled and took his hand in hers. Darcy groaned, but could not hold back his smile. When he looked back to her, he found his handkerchief and wiped the tears running down her face before wiping his own.
“You had this planned all along.” He chastised her gently. “Dearest I am no midwife, I am just . . .”
“I trust you.” He closed his eyes against the burden she had given him, and listened to how much she truly had planned ahead. “I knew that you sent for the midwife, I knew help would be here if you needed it. I just prefer you. I want you.”
“Lizzy.” He sighed and kissed her softly, and kissed her palm when she caressed his face. “We must remember this, dear. It is proven fact now that repeated lovemaking induces labour for you.” He sniffed and wiped his eyes again, and held her hands as she squeezed hard and cried out. The sound of running feet could be heard but he focussed on her contorted face. “Breathe, dearest. You are safe, I will not leave you.”
“He is coming . . .” She gasped and pushed, and screamed.
“Mrs. Darcy!” The midwife flew in. “What are you doing here? Mr. Darcy move away, I will . . .”
“You will watch and direct me.” He said calmly, never taking his eyes from Elizabeth and watching for the baby’s head to crown. “I will deliver the baby.”
“Mr. Darcy, I strenuously object!” Mrs. Barker declared. “You have no business . . .”
“Ohhhhhhhhhh Willl!” Elizabeth cried and pushed hard. The baby’s head appeared and disappeared again.
“You are doing fine, love.” Darcy forced his voice to remain strong. “We have done this before; you will be wonderful.” He glanced at Mrs. Barker pulling things from her satchel. She opened a bottle and waved it under Elizabeth’s nose. The scent of lavender filled the air and Elizabeth visibly calmed. He drew a deep breath and without thinking, massaged over her, relaxing the muscles and willing the baby’s head to return. Noticing Mrs. Barker’s look of surprise at his action he murmured, “I have read a great deal about techniques to aid birth.” He had almost begun to feel confident when he saw that the knife the midwife had laid out was crusted with blood. “You!” He bellowed. “You will not touch my wife with that blade. Mrs. Reynolds!”
“Yes sir!” She ran off to call for a knife.
“See here, Mr. Darcy, I have delivered more babies than you have . . .”
“
Not
at Pemberley, madam. We do not tolerate filth here.” Elizabeth’s cry brought his attention back to the baby and with a mighty push and excruciating scream, the head was suddenly delivered. Darcy’s relief was cut short by Mrs. Barker’s immediate reaction.
“The cord!” She started to reach forward and Darcy spotted the problem, the cord was wrapped around the baby’s throat. He looked at her for direction. “Lift it away, do not pull!” Gingerly, Darcy slipped a finger beneath the cord and lifted the loop over the baby’s head. “That’s it, sir. Now wipe the eyes and mouth.” Ignoring the unknown towel she presented, he supported the head with one hand and untied his cravat with the other, using the pristine white cloth to gently clean the face. “Be grateful this is not her first child, sir.” Mrs. Barker whispered, staring at the size of the baby’s head in proportion to Elizabeth’s body.
Darcy felt terror sweep through him when he saw the eyes of experience looking upon his wife, and knew instantly that birthing a child of this size could easily kill the mother. He closed his eyes in prayer and was jolted back with Elizabeth crying out again. “It is almost there, love, the hard part is over, come, one more big push.” His smile looked more like a grimace, but he locked his eyes with hers. Mrs. Reynolds knelt behind Elizabeth and supported her shoulders as Millie flew in bearing blankets, followed by maids carrying water. “Come love, give our baby life.” He encouraged her and with one more push, the heir of Pemberley slipped into his hands. “ohhhh.” He whispered and forgot his duty for a moment.
“Turn him over, sir!” Mrs. Barker’s fingers were itching to grab the baby. “He must breathe! Rub his back! Wipe his face!” Startling, Darcy did as he was told and at last, the baby took his first great gulp of air and suddenly turned pink. He opened his mouth and furiously began to cry.
“A boy? He is enormous!” Elizabeth cried and laughed. “Oh Fitzwilliam! No wonder I was so big!” Darcy lifted him up and beamed at her. “Your son! Your heir!”
“Our son, dearest.” Elizabeth gasped when the slippery child wiggled and Darcy momentarily lost his grip, but his sure hands quickly had the baby under control. The parents exchanged glances. “I think that he just warned us that he will be a handful from birth.” He lay the baby down on the towel Millie had placed on Elizabeth’s belly and sat back to watch her caress the mop of wet dark hair on his head. “He is beautiful.” He laughed. “He truly is enormous! He is nearly as big as you, love!”
Elizabeth gasped and grimaced, and he recalled the rest of his duty. Mrs. Barker gave up trying to do the work and instead nudged him. “Massage her belly, sir; get the rest out of her.”
“Yes, madam.” He said calmly, and keeping his eyes on his wife and son, he massaged until the placenta was expelled. He was silently handed pieces of twine and confidently, he tied off the cord, and cut it with a clean knife. The boy was bathed by Millie and wrapped up in a fresh blanket. After Darcy washed his hands in another basin, he scooted up to sit next to them, and kissed Elizabeth’s cheek. Exhausted, she leaned into his embrace and did not hesitate to open her dress and offer the baby her breast when he was placed into her arms.
“Come now, little man.” She coaxed him, rubbing his cheek with her finger. “Come and have a drink, you must be hungry after all that work.”
Darcy chuckled and rested his cheek on her head. “Of course you did no work at all.”
“It was not so very bad.” She whispered and heard his sigh.
“He is twice the size of Rosalie. It is a miracle that he came so easily, and that you did not tear. Rosalie paved the way.” He looked up to see Mrs. Barker nodding seriously and closed his eyes, hugging his oblivious wife possessively.
Elizabeth smiled down at her hungry son. “I would do it again in a heartbeat.”
“Twelve more times?” He smiled to see her head shake. “I am so proud of you, I love you dearest Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth looked up to him and they kissed. “I love you, my Fitzwilliam. Only you will deliver our babies.” He blushed and looked down, entwining her fingers into his and supporting the baby with her. Reaching up, she caressed away the tears that flowed freely down his face. Neither of them paid any heed to the activity around them as the remains of the birth were whisked away and Millie sponged Elizabeth. Staff hovered outside of the study, ready to clean the sofa and floor, and anxious to catch a glimpse of the all-important heir. The Darcys sat embraced with their eyes closed, their temples touching, and listening to the unknowingly missed, but suddenly familiar sound of a humming baby as he fed.
“Look at the size of him!” Mrs. Reynolds sobbed. “No wonder we thought it was twins!”
“He is a Darcy.” Elizabeth whispered. “Of course he is a man from birth.” The baby at last opened his eyes and looked up to them. She smiled to see her husband’s serious blue gaze staring up at her. “He is a Fitzwilliam!”
“Will he remain that way, do you think?” Darcy asked softly and bent to kiss the baby’s cheek.
“Time will tell.” She sighed and they watched as his eyes blinked closed. “What shall we name him?”
“Hmmm.” He looked around the room. “I suppose there is no possibility of naming him after this room.”
“Study Darcy? I hope not.”
Darcy hugged her tight. “Any favourites? We have talked about so many.”
“No Fitzwilliam?”
“No.”
“Not even in the middle?”
“What about you?”
“I love your name, I always have, from the first moment I heard it spoken.” She whispered. “Please? For me?”
“How can I possibly deny that?” He laughed and hugged her. “And what is the first name?”
“Asher.” He tilted his head and she declared it definitely. “Asher Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
Chuckling, his hug tightened. “Why not.”
“He must meet his sister.”
“In time, love.” Darcy whispered. “I will bring her to you later on.”
“Mr. Darcy.” Mrs. Reynolds cleared her throat. “Perhaps we should get Mrs. Darcy up off of the floor and changed?”
“Are we on the floor?” Elizabeth whispered without opening her eyes.
“I believe we are.”
“Such an improvement over the glade.”
“Perhaps with the next we might actually be in a bed?”
“No, I propose a garden bench.”
“We would be outside again.”
“Hmm.”
“Dearest?”
“Upstairs?”
“Yes.” His voice was soft but commanding and she looked up to see his worry remained. “I will not relax for weeks, you know, but I prefer you in bed.”
“You prefer me in bed . . .” Darcy pressed his fingers to her lips. Elizabeth’s eyes danced. “Yes, Husband.”
“MASTER ASHER FITZWILLIAM DARCY.” Darcy sat in the rocking chair in the small nursery next to the mistress’s bedchamber. The door was open between the rooms and from his position he could watch Elizabeth peacefully sleeping while holding his slumbering son. “I have been waiting a long time to talk to you.” He caressed his finger over his baby’s cheek. “Of course I did not know that my son was coming today, I would have been joyful for a little sister for Rosalie, but now that you are here, I will not deny my delight.”
Bending to kiss his chubby cheek, he drank in the familiar scent of a newborn. “I have thought so much of what I would want to tell you, all that I want to teach you, my son. I have read my father’s journals, and he began with me almost the day I was born, and so I will with you. I will show you every corner of our home. I want you to know every stone, every beam, every painting. I want you to know the stories behind everything so that you can tell your son one day. I want you to explore the gardens and make them your private playrooms. I dream of the day when I place you on my lap and we ride together and explore the estate, and the day when I first introduce you to our tenants and begin to teach you our duty to them.”
Darcy chuckled softly when he yawned. “I look forward to you riding off alone, leaving me behind to fret and your mother to calm me while you discover your favourite places and make this land your own. This is your land, Son. It is all yours, and your mother and I will teach you to love it and value it as deeply as we do. We will teach you to care for your sister and any other siblings who join you. You will have the heaviest burden, and I pray that I have the ability to teach you how to bear it, and I pray that I will not die and leave you to face the task before you are ready. I will teach you pride, and I pray that it is pride of your home, not of your status. You have won the luck of the ages, Son. You have the most wonderful mother, she will teach you compassion and love, she will teach you to value people and not possessions. She will teach you who to look for in your partner for life. Mind her, Asher. She has so much to give you. Respect her, she demands it. Love her, but then how can anyone not love her?” Darcy kissed the baby and looked back to the bed and smiled. “Have you been spying on me?”
“Yes.” Elizabeth had rolled to her side and was watching him. “Will you come in here? I am afraid that walking will be a challenge for some time.”
“Of course.” Darcy rose and tried to wipe his eyes on Asher’s blanket. He handed him over to her and kicked off his slippers before climbing onto the bed and sitting up against the headboard. Elizabeth scooted back against his chest and his arms came around them. “Does this mean that you will actually remain still for an entire month as your nurse demands?” He kissed her frown and rested his head against hers, reaching to take his son’s remarkable hand and marvelling as he gripped his finger. “I cannot get over his size.”
“I am certainly reminded of it whenever I move.” She looked up to him with a sparkle in her eye. “And I thought that you were the one of great proportions.” Darcy groaned, and she laughed when he hugged her. Her smile disappeared and she spoke softly. “I heard the staff talking about how this could have ended quite differently.”