Anne.”
“I’d expect nothing less, Mrs. Jenkinson.”
“I need for you to lean back a bit more, Mr. Joseph,” Elizabeth instructed. She bumped Mary’s knee to open the lady’s legs further. “I can see the head. Your child has dark hair,” she said nervously. Over the last hour, Elizabeth had questioned God’s reason more than once. How could He place her in such a situation? She knew nothing about delivering a healthy child. But here she was, offering advice to both mother and father.
Mary let out a toe-curling scream. Her stoicism had faded with the pain’s intensity. Now, she cried out freely. The spasms were only seconds apart. Less than ten minutes earlier, Mary’s press had sent a bloody liquid into a waiting bowl. Elizabeth had quickly changed out the bowls and returned to her position on the floor. “Mary, listen to me,” she demanded. “With the next pain, instead of screaming, I want you to lock your jaw and hold in your breath. Concentrate on pushing with your stomach muscles. You might even lean forward.”
“Are you certain, Mrs. Darcy?” a very ragged-looking Mr. Joseph asked.
“It is paramount to bringing the child into the world.” Elizabeth double-checked the proximity of the razor and the towels she had placed in waiting. “A few more times, Mary, and your child shall be in your arms.”
Elizabeth watched the exhausted expression leave the woman’s face, and paroxysms of pain take its place. Mary bit down on her bottom lip and pressed hard. “It’s coming,” Elizabeth coaxed. “You may let out your breath,” she instructed. What followed was an explosion of air preceding a long wail of release.
“Very good, Mary.” Elizabeth touched the child’s matted hair with her fingertips. “Catch your breath, for you must do it again.” Mary nodded weakly and gulped for air.
Soon, the next pain and then the next and the next arrived. Each brought further enervation on Mary’s part, as well as bringing more of the child into view. “The shoulders are clear,” Elizabeth reported as she supported the baby’s body. “Once more,” she encouraged. “Once more should do it, Mary. We’re almost there.”
“It is dark outside,” Mr. Joseph said out of nowhere.
His wife moaned, “What does it matter?”
Mr. Joseph laughed heartily. “It doesn’t, my dear. It was a bizarre attempt to draw your mind away and to give you strength to do the most miraculous thing a woman can do.” He kissed the top of his wife’s head.
Mary stiffened and pressed her hips upward. With a surge, the child slid into Elizabeth’s waiting hands. “Oh, my,” Elizabeth blurted and quickly turned the child over. Placing it on the clean cloths she had prepared, she began to wipe the blood and mucus from its body.
“Is it well?” Mr. Joseph demanded. “The child?”
Elizabeth ignored his question. “Stay,” she ordered when he started to move. “Mary’s body still has a job to complete.” All the time her fingers pried at the child’s small crevices with the soft cloths. “Come on, Little One,” she cajoled.
She lifted the child away from Mary’s body as far as the umbilical cord would allow. “I need help,” she mumbled.
“I will…” Mr. Joseph began again.
“No!” Elizabeth snapped. “Hold Mary. She has more pain to endure.” She turned her head toward the door. “Fitzwilliam,” she called. “I need you.” Immediately, the door opened. Her magnificent husband was where she expected him to be.
“What do you require? Is the child well?”
With her gaze, she indicated to Mr. Joseph to drop the sheet over his wife’s body. Then Elizabeth ordered, “You must help me cut the cord.”
In the next second, Darcy was across the room and kneeling at her side. “Tell me what to do.”
She stretched out the cord again. “Tie off the cord twice; once to stop the blood from Mrs. Joseph; once to stop the blood to the child. Then cut the cord between the two. Quickly, Fitzwilliam, so I can tend the baby.” Darcy did as she had instructed. Meanwhile, Elizabeth held the child close and began to urge the baby to take its first breath. “Come on, Sweet One.” She rubbed its back and pressed harder.
Completing the cut, Darcy whispered, “I have the child.” Darcy took the baby from her grasp. “See to Mrs. Joseph.” Then her husband walked away, the infant close to his chest. With an air of confidence, he swung the child around and laid it on the bed. “You can do this,” he said softly as he blew in the stone-still face. As she looked on, Darcy massaged the baby’s chest, placed a finger in its mouth to open it, and blew again. He bent closer and blew a third time. Finally, the Lord rewarded his effort. A twittering chirp escaped. “That’s right,” he whispered gravelly. “Once more.” He blew gently into the radish-red face. Finally, the infant opened its mouth and let out its own cry.
Darcy picked it up and turned to those on the other side of the room — only to discover a strange tableau staring intently at him. The picture of the three weary adults struck him as amusing. He laughed easily. “I assume you would like to meet Mr. Joseph’s son.”
Chapter 10
Elizabeth rushed forward to take the child from his arms. “My Goodness, what a miracle,” she said as she loosely wrapped the baby in a large cloth. “Come, Little One, and meet your parents.”
Behind her, Mr. Joseph rearranged his wife in his arms to better support her. “Our son, Mary,” he whispered hoarsely. “We have a son.”
When Elizabeth turned, she was startled to witness the pure love between a man and a woman, and for a moment, she wondered if her love for Darcy was as evident. Mr. Joseph caressed Mary’s cheek and stroked the damp hair from her face. His gentleness spoke volumes, and even though she knew Darcy loved her equally as well, Elizabeth drew the painful conclusion that without a child, something would always be missing. Swallowing back the loneliness, she hurried to deposit the child in Mrs. Joseph’s outstretched arms. “Master Joseph,” she said softly and kissed the screeching child’s forehead.
His mother’s finger stroking the boy’s cheek brought him the protection he had expected, and immediately, the child silenced. “He’s beautiful, Matthew,” she cooed.
Mr. Joseph reached around her and gently touched the baby’s tiny fingers. “The most beautiful child God ever created,” he rasped.
As Elizabeth looked on, the child’s fingers wrapped around Mr. Joseph’s pinky. Despite her happiness, she swayed in place, emotions overwhelming her. Immediately, Darcy was behind her. His comforting embrace encircled her, and Elizabeth allowed her husband to gently pull her against him. Darcy kissed the side of her neck. “If I’ve not told you recently,” he whispered close to her ear, “let me say how utterly amazing I find you.”
Elizabeth turned in his arms and collapsed against him, the adrenaline draining from her composure. Darcy held her tightly. “I’m frightened,” she murmured into his shoulder.
Darcy chuckled. “At least, you overcame the fear until the Josephs had their son.”
Elizabeth raised her chin to stare into his countenance. It was the face that she most trusted — the face of one who would never judge her — of one who accepted her foibles. “I did it,” she said in a gush of air. “Can you believe it, Fitzwilliam?”
“I always believed it,” he whispered. Darcy caressed her chin. “If anyone could save Mrs. Joseph’s life, it would be you.” Her husband glanced over her shoulder at where the Josephs still cuddled their child. “Let us step away and give Mr. and Mrs. Joseph a moment alone with their son.”
Elizabeth’s first instinct was to return to the woman, but seeing the Madonna-like look upon Mary’s face stilled her. She nodded and permitted Darcy to lead her to the other side of the room. They sequestered themselves behind the screen, and Darcy brought his wife into his arms. For Elizabeth, the exquisite feel of his strength bolstered her own. Instinctively, she raised her chin and accepted Darcy’s kiss. Gentle and loving, her husband’s embrace spoke of his devotion. “I love you,” she said as he released her mouth.
