“Mrs. Darcy is in your chambers, sir. Dr. Darcy and Miss Darcy are in the parlor.”
“Thank you.” He practically threw his overcoat at Georges with the stasis of dread vanishing in the liberation of his fears and the cavernous need to embrace his wife. Dignity be damned, he dashed up the grand staircase and turned left with long strides.
“Fitzwilliam!”
He pivoted at the sound of his uncle's voice. “Uncle! Elizabeth is in our chambers, yes?”
“I checked on her not fifteen minutes ago and she is sleeping now, William. Come into the parlor so we can talk.”
Darcy stood in stunned alarm, trying to read his uncle's face. “Is she…?”
“She is fine, but she is asleep and she needs her sleep. Allow her to rest undisturbed, nephew, and have a drink with me.”
“I am her husband and she needs me!” Darcy flashed angrily, face stormy.
George stepped closer, face sympathetic but determined. “What Elizabeth needs is a husband who is serene, stable, and informed. You are currently none of those things.” He laid his hand comfortingly onto Darcy's forearm. “Come have a drink, William, just for the interim, and let your wife sleep.”
Darcy glanced toward the far staircase, sighed, running a hand over a grey face as he nodded wearily. “Very well. Just tell me one thing first. Is she… is the baby…?” His voice broke, but there was no need to say more.
George smiled, placing an arm about Darcy's shoulders and propelling him toward the doorway. “Elizabeth is hugely pregnant and shows no signs of presenting you an heir in the immediate future.”
Darcy sagged with relief, simultaneously sighing and coughing and laughing with an edge of hysteria. “Thank God!”
“Yes, indeed. Georgiana, look what the wind blew in.”
Georgiana, of course, was dancing with impatience just inside the doorway and leapt at her brother instantly. “Brother! We missed you so very much! Welcome home. Oh, Lizzy will be so happy!”
Darcy clutched his sister tightly to his chest, desperately needing the love and warmth offered freely. George moved to the liquor cabinet, taking his time so the siblings could have their moment.
“Georgie! You have no idea how good it is to be home. How are you, my sweet?”
“I am well. You, however, do not look well at all. It is as Lizzy surmised.” She broke the embrace, leading him by the hand to the sofa.
Darcy fell into the cushions with a heavy sigh, pulling Georgiana down beside him and under his arm. “What did my wife surmise?”
“That you would push too hard and not take care of yourself. Be prepared; she will scold you.”
Darcy smiled. “I imagine I can tolerate her scolding quite happily. Thank you, Uncle.” He took the offered whiskey, drinking deeply and ignoring his uncle's sharp gaze. “Are you examining me, Dr. Darcy, intending to inform me how terrible I look and rebuke me for not resting?”
“No point in stating the obvious. And I examined you out in the hallway. I was currently trying to decide which tonic would be best for your cough.”
“I am certain whatever it is will taste horrible. Tell me about my wife and child.” All jesting gone, he duplicated George's stare.
“Three afternoons ago now she began having contractions. They were not severe nor regular, which is, if you recall from the text and our discussions, the sign of true labor. Nonetheless, they persisted throughout the evening and were intense enough to warrant medical intervention. Upon examination I ascertained no indication of impending birth and her waters did not rupture. Georgie dear, if this is too graphic, perhaps you should depart temporarily.”
“Thank you, I believe I will.” She kissed her brother's cheek and exited, face flushed.
George chuckled, but Darcy leaned forward avidly. “Continue frankly.”
“She has been a wonderful companion and comfort to Elizabeth, William. I have been quite proud of her maturity. Anyway, you understand of what I speak. As I told your wife, I was not overly concerned as the symptoms were tenuous; nonetheless, it cannot be taken lightly. I have her on a daily prescription of herbals that have some effect on inhibiting contractions. Additionally, I forced her to stay in bed until today.”
He started laughing, eyes twinkling. “I checked on her this morning and the first words out of her mouth were, 'How long are you to keep me chained to this bed, Dr. Darcy? Until I atrophy and fuse into the sheets?' Well, that is always a sign of the patient improving. So I have allowed her to walk about the room, but no farther.”
Darcy smiled faintly, but his eyes were troubled. “Are you sure she should be out of bed? I am quite familiar with my wife's temper and need for activity, but I do not want my child compromised. Nor would Elizabeth either, no matter her frustration.”
“Here are the facts: If your baby is planning on arriving today or next month, there honestly is little we can do to stop it. The herbs and bed rest may aid temporarily, but are no guarantee. The detriments to lying in bed for the next four weeks, especially with a temperament such as Elizabeth's, would likely outweigh any benefits. Secondly, as I explained to her, the baby is near enough to complete maturity to conceivably be born healthy. He is a Darcy after all!”
His attempt to lighten the mood was disregarded, Darcy shaking his head. “Possibilities are not adequate. I will not gamble on my son's life. Whatever you deem the proper treatment, it will be done. If I have to tie Elizabeth to the bed I will!”
“Well, that would be a sight to behold. Yet I see no cause for such drastic measures. The truth is, William, your presence will be the best medicine. Promise me you will not chastise your wife because she does not need your severity but only your love and support. To a great degree her own nature is against her. She does not take leisure well, especially when driving herself to avoid sadness and to please you. Most importantly, she honestly is dependent on you for her serenity. You are a fortunate man, my boy.”
Darcy smiled the first real smile since arriving, caressing and staring at his ring. “Yes, I am. It has been an hour now. Can I please wake her?” He spoke very softly, as a little boy pleading for permission, glancing to his uncle with beseeching eyes.
“Yes, you may.” Darcy jumped up enthusiastically with a broad grin, but George stayed him with a hand. “One last thing, William. For reasons we physicians do not completely understand, sexual activity can induce labor. We should give it a few more days to be sure how she will respond to other physical exertions. I am sorry.”
Darcy nodded, the grin in place. “No worries. I can control myself for the sake of my wife's health. Right now all I want is to see her face.”
“Glad to hear it; however, it is not only you who must find control. Women can be persuasive and none, I judge, more so than Mrs. Darcy.” He was smirking widely, Darcy actually flushing. Without another word, and to the sound of his uncle's laughter, Darcy left the room.
He opened the bedchamber door gingerly, peeking through the crack. The bed was empty, but he did not require that evidence as Elizabeth was readily seen standing on the balcony. She wore his robe, the same one confiscated while separated from him in June; her back was to the door and her braided hair fell down her back. She stared south, watching vainly for sight of a carriage, hugging the robe tightly against the mild breeze. Darcy approached cautiously, not wishing to startle, utilizing the seconds to drink in every part of her.
To his continued amazement she still did not appear notably pregnant from the rear. Her daintily thin shoulders and narrow waist were nearly unaltered with only the faintest hint of widened hips and bulging belly visible from this angle. He knocked lightly on the open balcony door, speaking softly, “Elizabeth?”