“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?”