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
“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,
“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.”
