with the baby's alert eyes.
“Just hold him for now, my dear. Let instinct rule. He will make his intentions known.” The doctor chuckled, bending to brush the infant's cheek with a fingertip. He placed a tender kiss to Lizzy's brow. “Congratulations, niece. You were amazing. You too, William,” and with a clap to his nephew's shoulder he departed, leaving the Darcys finally alone with their child.
Chapter Eighteen
Silence fell. The crackling of the fire, ticking of the longcase clock, muffled murmurs of voices from without mingling with the familiar creaks from within the mansion's walls, faint whispers of a November wind beyond the curtained windows, and the harmonious heartbeats and contented respirations of the three Darcys the only noises.
Lizzy's gown was opened, Alexander nestled with his belly and chest pressed flat along her torso, his head pillowed upon one soft breast.
He was wide awake and for a very long time Darcy and Lizzy stared, plainly stared, at the beautiful face of their newborn son as he stared back. He moved occasionally, emitting soft mews, pursing full pink lips, delicate eyelids fluttering, miniature fingers grasping and releasing a parent's finger. His mouth would open, apparently seeking as his surprisingly strong neck turned a wobbly head toward her breast. But then he would pause, quieting as he resumed his inquisitive inspection of his parents.
Lizzy sniffled, wiping at a falling tear and sighing deeply. “Are you in pain, dearest?” Darcy asked, reaching to stroke her chin as she shook her head.
“No. Well, yes, a bit achy and very tired, but the tears are of joy. Look at him, William! Is he not the most beautiful baby you have ever seen?”
Darcy chuckled, chest vibrating. “As you know I have limited exposure, this is an unfair question. Nonetheless, I cannot fathom any other being handsomer. He has your hair, Elizabeth, and your eyes.”
“His eyes are blue.”
“Yes, but shaped like yours. And he inherited your nose, thankfully.”
“It does not look like my nose, and besides, I adore your nose!” She turned her head for a peck to said proboscis positioned by her cheek. “It is easy to find for kisses in the dark.”
“Indeed, it is. He is beginning to seek more diligently. Perhaps hunger is winning over the need for sedate cuddling.” Darcy ran a fingertip over the tiny lips, Alexander instantly opening wide and searching.
“If he inherited his father's appetite, then this is likely true. Perhaps I should nurse him.”
“It appears he has decided the same. Look how he squirms to reach your nipple, just as Uncle said he would. Marvelous nature!” Darcy declared in awe, both parents watching in amazement as with minimal aid from them, Alexander wiggled and bobbed his way toward his mother's bared breast. They laughed as they fumbled to help him, but it was not overly necessary. The newborn fortunately knew precisely what to do, only requiring the nipple to come within proximity of his gaping mouth.
Lizzy gasped and jerked at the strong suck, fresh tears springing to her eyes as emotions consumed her.
“Are you well, Elizabeth? Does it hurt?”
She shook her head vigorously, relaxing further into his warm body. “No, no. It is… blissful! I just… love him so much! And you… William, I am so deliriously happy!” He held her firmly, rocking gently as she cried, Alexander oblivious to it all as he nursed and held tightly to his mother's finger.
Gradually she quieted, lifting her eyes to meet Darcy's adoring gaze. He bent, kissing her lightly. “I love you forever, Elizabeth.”
“And I you, Fitzwilliam. By the way, I know it yet a couple hours early but… Happy anniversary my darling. Do you like your gift?”
“I daresay I love both the gift and the packaging it came in. Happy anniversary, Mrs. Darcy.”
Many hours later, well after midnight and nearing the dawn of November 28, 1817, another date of import, Lizzy woke. The unfamiliar room was dim, Lizzy momentarily befuddled by the strange and empty bed as well as the cramping leg muscles, burning arms, and throbbing bottom. The happenings of the twenty-seventh rushed through her consciousness, Lizzy smiling brightly at the surge of exultation, and then suddenly panicking as the vacancy in her arms stabbed her heart.
Her eyes flew open and she painfully attempted to rise, halting and relaxing with a gratified sigh at the vision greeting her.
Darcy lay asleep on the narrow, short sofa before the smoldering fire. His vest had been discarded and the linen shirt loose and gaping open over his bare chest with a blanket haphazardly covering his lower body. His feet were also bare and one long leg had fallen off the sofa onto the floor while the other was draped over the arm and dangling from the knee on. His beautiful face was turned toward the bed, lips parted, and he breathed in a deep rhythm. Lying on his ample chest was Alexander. The baby was swaddled and dressed, one arm free and hanging over his father's side. His tiny pink face was visible, full lips parted just like his father's. Darcy held his son securely, even in sleep, one large hand resting on the infant's rear and the other hand wholly encompassing the curly brown- haired head.
Lizzy lay awake for a long while watching father and son in peaceful slumber. It was a picture more moving than anything created by the greatest artist. The new mother studied the scene in the finest detail, reverently hanging it in her mind's gallery to be remembered for all of her life.
Alexander William George Bennet Darcy, Heir to Pemberley, Master Alex as he would be commonly known to the staff as he grew, was hungry and it was quite feasible that the entire household knew it! The future Master of Pemberley's character was yet unknown, his personality to undergo years of molding and development, but one trait that was instantly recognizable was his demanding persistence.
“Merciful heavens, my sweet, you ate barely two hours ago! I apologize most profoundly for being a bit fumbling at the procedure and for yet providing little in the way of actual milk. Bear with me.”
“I cannot fathom where he comes by such a temper. Astounding, actually.”
“Most humorous, Mr. Darcy. Make yourself useful and prop that pillow under my elbow.
“Be thankful as the ability to suck well induces the milk to produce rapidly, or at least that is what the book states.”
It was mid-morning following his birth, the young master just over twelve hours of age. Despite Lizzy's playful teasing he actually had slept for nearly five hours nestled snuggly belly to chest with head tucked under his immeasurably proud father's chin and warm hand, lulled by the strong beat of a blissful heart beneath his ear. Darcy had awoken first, cramped and with no sensation to his left limb from the knee down, and a spreading wet warmth over his abdomen.
Both Darcy men had changed their clothing; elder Darcy with relief and baby Darcy with extreme indignation. Only the loving presence of his mother, and most especially her breast, had calmed him. He had eaten well, promptly falling asleep in Lizzy's arms, and woken two hours later apparently famished. In the meantime Darcy had called for coffee and tea, George had peeked in to assure all was well with the new mother, and the lovers had lost themselves in gazing at their son's face.
They were still lost. Darcy reclined with his wife on the bed, fingertips gently brushing over the wisps of brown curls while the infant nursed. Lizzy wore a smile unique to all mothers everywhere since time began, dreamily memorizing each twitch and curve, while allowing the sensations to course through her blood. Some were mildly unpleasant, such as the cramps elicited by his sucking, but most were joyous, such as the wash of intense love and happiness.
She rested her head onto Darcy's inner shoulder, sighing contentedly but wearily. “I think I could sleep for a
