Darcy and Fitzwilliam: A Tale of a Gentleman and an Officer

“Do something… anything… Save my baby.” Lizzy was hysterical. “William, whatever happens to me, save our baby.”

“What is it?!” Darcy demanded. “Please tell me what is going on!” Lizzy’s cries were ripping open his heart. “Where is that damned doctor?!”

Amanda gently felt inside and realized the child was presenting face forward, the back aligned to Lizzy’s back. Her father had spoken of this sometimes occurring, but she had never seen it before. During his lessons, he had explained the grave danger it presented to both mother and child. The need was to open her wider, and there was only one way Amanda knew of to do that.

“Oh, I am so stupid. All the signs have been there! Lizzy, I am sorry, but I believe we must get you into a different position.” Amanda reached out her hand to grab Lizzy’s arm. “Since we have no birthing chair, I think you’ll have to squat or kneel.”

A shocked Darcy had already motioned for the maid to take his place. He was instantly at Amanda’s side and pulled her hand from Elizabeth. “Excuse me,” he said in a harsh whisper, “perhaps we should wait for the doctor to arrive.”

Amanda struggled to pull back her hand from his grasp. “Mr. Darcy,” she whispered, “She is in agony. The child is facing forward, a very difficult and dangerous delivery, especially for a woman so small.” She then spoke in a lower voice, hoping Elizabeth would not hear. “We really have few alternatives. Elizabeth is weak and may not have the strength or the will to take much more.”

The anger on Darcy’s face quickly dissolved into fear, the full impact of what she was saying hitting him brutally hard. Not waiting for his answer, she pulled her hand away and pushed the sheets farther back. “No! Wait! This is barbaric!” he shouted as Lizzy grabbed his arm.

“Please, William, do as she says.” She was growing weaker by the moment. “Remember, if you must choose, choose the child. Please, please, promise me this.” He could see the agony in her eyes.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked Amanda, his voice hoarse.

“Help me get her out of bed. Get behind her—you must support her weight as she kneels over this pillow.” Not really certain of what she was doing, she grabbed one from the bed and threw it to the floor. “If that doesn’t show quick results, you will have to help her walk about. Hurry, please. This should open her more—I will try what I can to turn the child.”

Darcy and Mrs. Winter struggled to bring Elizabeth to the side of the bed, and then he grasped her under her arms, supporting her as she began to stoop. Amanda pulled up Lizzy’s nightdress to massage her belly.

***

His heart was near breaking. How could she feel so light and look so huge, and still be so small? How could any of this end without disaster? Would she disappear in his arms like a fog, insubstantial, fragile? She had begged him to choose the child if it came to it, but how could he? She was his whole life. He would surely go insane without her, would never want to live, and it would be this damn child’s fault. No, he would choose Lizzy over it if it came to that, without a moment’s hesitation, would never allow Lizzy to die if it was within his power, even if she never spoke to him again. No. His only desire was to stop her pain by whatever means possible. He watched as Amanda knelt before his wife, her hand probing inside, and willed himself not to pass out from the tension.

“I believe it’s moved a bit…” The next few minutes were an eternity as Amanda alternately rubbed and massaged Lizzy’s stomach with one hand while the other felt within for any change. “It is moving! The baby is turning,” Amanda held her breath as she made small, twisting motions with her hand.

***

“One more push, Lizzy,” Amanda ordered.

“Push, darling, push,” called Darcy simultaneously.

“It’s coming—the head is clear.” Amanda continued her probing and gentle pulling. Within another moment, the baby swished through, slimy and wet, cradled in her waiting hands.

Darcy gasped out in a choking sob, “Thank God.”

An exhausted Lizzy collapsed back into his arms, and he clutched her tightly to his chest, unknowing and unseeing of the activity happening around them. She was pale, she was weak, but she was alive. Alive and, incredibly, smiling.

After cutting the cord, Amanda brought the child to a table. She ran her finger around the child’s mouth, after which she began to pat its bottom, softly at first and then a good little slap. The wail that emitted from the baby was heard throughout the household. They heard it in the hallways, in every bedroom, parlor, and convenience, and it continued, down into the servant’s hall. It was heard even by people walking outside. There were a full two seconds of quiet before the cheers started from below, from the basement on up throughout the house.

“Mr. Darcy, you may help Elizabeth back into the bed.” Amanda’s voice seemed to come from miles away as he lifted Lizzy up into his arms and placed her gently down. Her eyes blinked and then finally opened to his.

“God, I love you, Lizzy,” was all he could say before he kissed her forehead. “I love you.”

“Have we a son or a daughter?” she asked weakly, but Darcy did not hear nor care. She was alive.

***

“Mr. Darcy, would you like to meet your son?” Amanda had wiped the worst of the moisture from the child and had wrapped him in a soft towel.

It was a moment before her words penetrated. He was only just beginning to breathe again. Did he want to meet this child, this little interloper who had caused so much trouble and upheaval? Who may have nearly caused his Lizzy her life? He felt oddly indifferent about the prospect, caring only that his beloved wife lived, but there she was laughing and nodding. That is a good sign, he thought vaguely. Suddenly, memories flooded over him of his father’s rage and grief being replaced by an equally ferocious love at the sight of his newborn daughter, even though Georgiana survived but not his wife.

Yes, he thought, perhaps I should meet this son of mine.

***

Darcy’s first breathless impression of the wriggly, warm bundle in his arms came as a complete surprise. “Oh, my God, he’s beautiful. Lizzy. He’s absolutely perfect.” A groundswell of instantaneous love washed over him, shocking him with its force; protective adoration for the child nearly overwhelmed him. And then the boy opened his eyes. When Darcy saw his Elizabeth in those eyes, and then himself and then his mother and father, a laughing sob escaped his lips, and he brought the infuriated little face to his, kissing it tenderly, his heart overflowing with love. How could he have sacrificed this precious life, this angel? How could he ever have chosen between them? It was inconceivable to him now. “Lizzy, he’s so… huge!”

The baby, looking baffled at all this intense scrutiny, gave a tiny sneeze, and Darcy began to laugh all over again. He took the child toward the window for better light.

“Mr. Darcy,” Amanda called out. “Excuse me, but I suggest you bring that child to his mother before she leaps off the bed. We are not quite finished cleaning the afterbirth yet.”

“Oh, Lizzy, forgive me.” She had already squirmed to the edge, about to launch herself across the floor and claim her son in another moment. He swiftly brought the child over to her eager arms, and she reached out, bringing the tiny bundle into her embrace. Darcy sat behind her and held them both, the new parents gazing lovingly together at their child.

Darcy took off his neck scarf, wiping the perspiration from Elizabeth’s face, kissing her over and over, hugging her head to his chest. “I love you, William,” she whispered. “Thank you for my son.”

***

It was over.

With the new family huddled together on their bed, the very proud and proper Mr. Darcy finally gave in to his own tears as his arms wrapped around his world.

His wife and his child were alive.