To Conquer Mr. Darcy

Fifteen

Elizabeth’s pains began just before dawn one fine night in May. She was grateful they were not severe initially, though it was a struggle to mimic sleep in order not to disturb her husband. She was grateful when he finally awoke and she could move more freely. She accepted his affectionate kiss, then said briskly, “I am quite hungry this morning. I think that I shall ring for Lucy to bring me breakfast immediately.”

He looked at her oddly. “Too hungry to wait to be dressed?”

She surprised herself with her acting ability. “Not as hungry as that, but perhaps I was too active yesterday. I thought I might spend the morning resting.”

“As you wish, my love,” he said. “I am tempted to offer to bear you company, but I fear that it would not be rest that you would be getting, in that case.”

She managed to smile through a strong cramp. “Another time, William, I shall be happy to take up your offer.”

Fortunately, Lucy arrived shortly thereafter. Although Darcy’s presence inhibited her from speaking directly, Elizabeth managed to communicate her situation in pantomime when his back was turned. Lucy’s eyes widened, and she said in a nervous voice, “I will fetch your breakfast right away, madam.”

It seemed to take an inordinate amount of time for her husband to ready himself for the day, but Elizabeth knew that it was only her own anxiety and increasing discomfort that made it seem so. When finally he departed with an affectionate kiss and a promise to check on her later, she breathed a sigh of relief. His departure was followed so promptly by the arrival of Mrs. Reynolds, accompanied by Lucy, that Elizabeth knew she must have been awaiting her opportunity.

“So your time is upon you, Mrs. Darcy?” Mrs. Reynolds asked briskly.

“It would appear so,” replied Elizabeth with a grimace as another pain seized her. Mrs. Reynolds placed her hand over Elizabeth’s abdomen, feeling the strength of the contraction.

“The midwife has been sent for, and I expect she should be here soon. Meanwhile, it does you no good to be lying so. You must walk around, Mrs. Darcy.”

The idea seemed completely lacking in appeal to Elizabeth, but she obediently followed the housekeeper’s instructions. “I cannot walk far in this room,” she observed with a touch of amusement.

“When Mr. Darcy has left the house, you may walk in the corridor, madam.”

“Where is…” Elizabeth paused during another pain, and Mrs. Reynolds took her arm to support her. “Where will Mr. Darcy be going?”

“Wilkins is taking care of that, madam; you need not worry about Mr. Darcy. Lucy, I think that you had best fetch Anne Fletcher,” Mrs. Reynolds said.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow as Lucy left. “Mrs. Fletcher?” she asked, wondering why on earth Mrs. Reynolds should want one of the cooks at a moment like this.

“You seem to be moving along more rapidly than I would expect, madam, judging by your pace, and Mrs. Fletcher is very experienced in these matters. She can stay with you until the midwife arrives.”

A brief panic swept through Elizabeth. “You will stay, too, will you not, Mrs. Reynolds?”

Mrs. Reynolds smiled warmly and patted her hand. “Of course I will stay.”

Mrs. Fletcher proved to be less concerned than the housekeeper about the imminence of the event, especially once Elizabeth admitted that the pains had been going on for some hours. She encouraged Elizabeth to partake of some soup and bread, for she would be needing her strength.

The day seemed interminable to Elizabeth as her pains continued. By midafternoon she felt already exhausted, and as the pains continued to increase in their intensity and frequency, she could no longer keep a stoic silence. “Soon, Mrs. Darcy,” the midwife reassured her during the interval between her pains. “Soon it will be time.”

Shortly after Elizabeth cried out at one particularly agonizing contraction, firm footsteps could be heard in the hallway outside, followed by the stern voice of Wilkins. “Mr. Darcy, you must come back downstairs. You cannot be with her, sir; you can do her no good. Please, sir, come down with Miss Darcy.”

“I will see her! Out of my way, Wilkins, immediately!”

“Sir, it is not proper…”

“Wilkins!” Darcy’s voice had become threatening.

“Oh, let him in,” Elizabeth said resignedly. “He can do no worse here than anywhere else.”

The midwife glanced at Mrs. Reynolds, who gave a slight nod, just as the door opened and Darcy entered, his face ashen. He knelt immediately next to Elizabeth and took her hands in his. “Elizabeth, no one told me, or I should have been here far sooner.”

Elizabeth managed a slight smile. “I told them not to tell you.”

“How are you, my dearest?” He pressed kisses on her hands.

“As well as can be expected.” She gripped his hands tightly as a strong pain tore through her. She bit her lip to stop a cry, unwilling to behave in a manner that could increase his worries, no matter the provocation, but she could do nothing about the tears that leaked from her eyes.

“You are doing well, Mrs. Darcy,” the midwife said. “A few more like that, and you will be ready to push.”

“Thank God,” said Elizabeth fervently as the pain eased.

Darcy looked up at the midwife. Every woman in the room was firmly ignoring his existence. “Something is wrong! It should not hurt her so much!” he exclaimed. He was not reassured by the barely disguised smiles that met his comment.

“William, it always hurts this much. Often much more,” said Elizabeth with some exasperation.

“Are you certain?”

“Mr. Darcy, your wife is doing very well. You need have no worries,” said the midwife.

The pain came again, and Mrs. Reynolds gave her a cloth to bite on. “Oh, Elizabeth,” Darcy whispered, tormented by the sight of her suffering, which seemed to go on and on. Tears streamed down her face.

Mrs. Reynolds said sharply. “Mr. Darcy, I will not have you upsetting your wife. If you can do no better than that at comforting her, then begone!”

Again in a painless interval, Elizabeth could not help a weak smile at the look on Darcy’s face as he received this scolding, but it seemed to serve. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, not taking his eyes off her for even a moment.

As the next pain took her, he said, “Look at me, Elizabeth.” She looked into his eyes as if receiving strength from him, clutching forcefully at his hands. A minute later his gaze warmed as she relaxed. “You are very strong, my love!” he teased, glancing down at their entwined hands.

“William,” she murmured, allowing her head to rest on his shoulder momentarily, praying this would end soon.

He whispered endearments to her as her pains came and went until the midwife announced, “Mrs. Darcy, at the next one, you must push, as hard as you may. Mr. Darcy, it is time for you to leave, sir.”

“No.” Darcy’s voice was implacable.

“Mr. Darcy, it is most inappropriate for you to be here at all, but especially not now! I must ask you to leave!”

“No!” he snapped.

“Leave be,” Mrs. Reynolds told the midwife. “He can be stubborn as a mule when he sets his mind to it.”

Elizabeth gave a feeble laugh, both at the housekeeper’s statement and at her husband’s complete lack of reaction to it.

“Now, Mrs. Darcy. Push now!”

Afterwards, Elizabeth could remember little of the next period beyond her husband’s eyes holding her and her hands clutching his fiercely. She recalled crying in excruciating pain, and Mrs. Reynolds’ voice calmly detailing her progress, until she experienced a sudden release from her suffering.

“You have a son, Mrs. Darcy!” Mrs. Reynolds announced with delight. Elizabeth, unable to appreciate anything beyond the pain having come to an end, collapsed against Darcy, who by this point had all but forgotten in his intense involvement with Elizabeth that a baby was to come, and seemed taken by surprise by the news. The midwife tied off and cut the cord, and a cry filled the room. Mrs. Reynolds, a broad smile on her face, took the infant and swaddled him in the prepared cloth, then gently placed him in Elizabeth’s arms.

Elizabeth stared at the tiny face surrounded by a headful of dark hair, awash with feelings she had never felt before. She tickled his small hand, feeling euphoric as he gripped her finger with his minute, perfect fingers. She turned to Darcy with a smile of ineffable happiness, only to find him gazing in complete fascination at his son.

“Mrs. Darcy, you may be more comfortable in the bed for the remainder,” said the midwife gently. Mrs. Reynolds reached to take the bundle from Elizabeth’s arms, but Darcy was there before her. His wife’s existence clearly faded from his mind as he held his son, absorbed by the miracle before him. Mrs. Reynolds, shaking her head with amusement, helped Elizabeth up from the stool and to the bed.

“I do not believe that I shall want to sit down for a very long time!” said Elizabeth with feeling as she collapsed back against the pillows. The midwife began to massage her stomach to encourage the afterbirth.

Mrs. Reynolds approached Darcy and said briskly, “Mr. Darcy, I do not believe that you are required for this part. Give that child back to your wife, and go tell Miss Georgiana that she has a nephew, and you can return when we have finished here.”

Darcy looked at her blankly for a moment, then reluctantly surrendered the infant to Mrs. Reynolds, who tucked him into Elizabeth’s arms. He kissed Elizabeth’s cheek lightly, then whispered in her ear, “Thank you, my love.” She looked up at him, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Out, Master William!” Mrs. Reynolds demanded, and with a roll of his eyes, he obeyed. She looked over at Elizabeth, and said authoritatively, “I told you he would be trouble.”

“You did indeed, Mrs. Reynolds!” Elizabeth agreed with a laugh before her son engaged her every thought once again.

Elizabeth was asleep by the time Darcy was permitted to return to her. The completion of the delivery, the cleansing and the first lessons from Mrs. Fletcher on putting the babe to her breast had taken the last of her energy, and she had drifted off despite a new appreciation of how uncomfortable certain portions of her would be for the next few days.

Darcy slipped into the room quietly so as not to disturb her. It was twilight, and he found the picture of his wife and son asleep together in the gathering darkness immensely appealing. He stood and watched them for several minutes before giving into temptation and gently easing the bundle out of Elizabeth’s arms. The baby stirred for a moment, and Darcy froze, but then he slipped back into a deep sleep.

Darcy settled himself in an armchair beside the bed, gently cradling the baby in his arms. He traced the tiny features with his eyes and allowed himself to lightly touch the soft baby hair. He could hardly allow the reality of the moment, but the pleasure it gave him to hold his son could not be denied. He was still gazing raptly at him some time later when Elizabeth awoke.

Their eyes met and held, a silent message flowing between them. Finally Darcy said, “I had not realized that he would be quite so small.”

Elizabeth smiled warmly. “He will grow faster than you think. He has the look of you about him, I think.”

“Do you? I cannot see it; he looks exactly like himself. How are you, my love?”

“Well enough; I have no complaints. But we must think about a name for that young man, William.”

“Richard,” he said, looking down at the baby, and despite his extraordinarily gentle tone it was clear that he was making a statement rather than a suggestion.

“Am I not to be consulted on this?” Elizabeth teased. Richard had, in fact, been on the list of names she had considered, but she saw no reason to give in to him quite so quickly.

He smiled at her with mild embarrassment. “Only if you agree with me, but he really must be Richard, you see.”

“And why, pray tell, must he be named Richard?”

“Well, mostly because if it were not for Colonel Fitzwilliam, he would never have been born.”

She raised an eyebrow. “William, I have the greatest respect for your cousin, but I fail to see what he has to do with Ri… with our baby’s birth.”

She could see even in the growing darkness that his cheeks flushed. “It is because of something I never told you, my love. Do you recall when I returned to Hertfordshire to court you?”

“Of course.”

“The truth is that it was not my idea. I had already given up on you, and decided I did not deserve you. I never expected to see you again, then Richard came along and browbeat me into trying one more time, else I should have spent the rest of my life regretting you.”

She gazed at him tenderly, touched by his disclosure. “Very well, I suppose that is an acceptable reason. Richard it shall be.” The subject of their discussion opened his eyes, stirred by the sound of their voices. She held out her arms for him, and Darcy somewhat reluctantly surrendered the infant. Smiling down at her baby, she tried to persuade him to nurse, with eventual success. “Mrs. Fletcher assures me that this will become easier with time,” she said ruefully to William, who was watching the process with fascination.

“Will you have the nurse take him for the night?”

She considered the matter. “I think I shall. She can always bring him to me if he needs me, and I certainly need the rest. I would like to be able to enjoy our son tomorrow beyond merely falling asleep with him!”

“I assume I should stay in my own room tonight,” Darcy said tentatively.

Elizabeth looked up at him. “I had hoped that you would stay with me. It would comfort me to sleep in your arms.”

Darcy’s happiness at this response was apparent. “It would be my pleasure, my love. You may be certain that I would prefer not to let you out of my sight! But you must first have a little supper, to keep up your strength.”

“William,” she said indulgently, “the baby has been born, and you do not need to watch over me so closely any longer.”

“I enjoy taking care of you, Elizabeth. And remember, you need to keep your strength up for tomorrow, too.”

“Well, then, I suppose that I must have my supper,” she said with resigned amusement. She noted that he was watching young Richard with the intensity he usually reserved for her, and it warmed her heart to see how quickly he was becoming attached to their child.

After Elizabeth had eaten what he considered to be an adequate amount, Darcy announced that she could go to sleep whenever she wished. She felt a pang when the nurse took the baby, but was reassured in the comfort of Darcy’s embrace. He kissed her chastely on the forehead before bidding her good night, treasuring the opportunity to hold her in his arms, and grateful beyond words that all his fears had proved unwarranted.

“By the way, William,” she said drowsily as she was about to drift off to sleep, her head resting on his shoulder, “I find it hard to believe that you could be browbeaten into doing something you did not already want to do.”

“Most likely not, my love. Now go to sleep; we have a great many tomorrows still ahead of us.” He kissed her gently, reflecting back on those weeks in Hertfordshire when he had so desperately sought her affections, and felt a thankfulness beyond his ability to express that she had rewarded him with the gift of her love. He would be ever sensible of the warmest gratitude towards his cousin who, by convincing him to risk offering her his heart once more, had been the means of uniting them.