“Shall I inform Miss Darcy?”
“If she is awake, yes please. She can keep Mrs. Darcy company as soon as she wishes to. Whatever else you deem sensible; I trust your judgment at this juncture superior to mine. Oh, coffee, please.”
She curtsied and left, passing George Darcy in the sitting room. He approached with casual strides, tea cup in one hand and muffin in the other, dressed in a flowing garment of canary yellow with green edging.
“I was informed that babies are birthing hereabouts? Elizabeth! You are still pregnant!” He stopped abruptly on the threshold, feigning shock.
“Yes, Uncle, we thought we would wait for you. Now that you have arrived, perhaps you can work your magic and speed the process along?”
“Alas, my dear niece, magic does not reside in these hands. Only staggering expertise and superior knowledge. William, you do intend on dressing and shaving? Your baby's eyesight will suffer if greeted by such a frightful vision.”
“And your brash appearance is benign?” Elizabeth interjected.
“Babies love bright colors. Stimulates the retina.” He had crossed to the fireside chair positioned across from Lizzy, sitting and extending long legs nonchalantly as he bit into the muffin. “So,” he resumed while chewing, “tell me how we are faring, dear.”
Lizzy launched into a briefly detailed synopsis of her contraction history while Darcy stood nearby, not sure whether he was calmed or irritated by his uncle's blasé attitude. Luckily he had no time to figure it out as another pain began, Darcy swiftly kneeling at his wife's side to assist and comfort. George ate in silence while Darcy stroked Lizzy's forehead and murmured soft encouragement until the pain passed, leaning for a brushing kiss.
He sat back on his heels, yet holding Lizzy's hand, and turned to his placidly masticating uncle. “What is the plan, Dr. Darcy? What is your professional opinion?”
“Elizabeth, I fear you are yet in the early stages of labor. I could examine you, but it is not necessary. Trust me when I tell you that you will know when the labor is causing changes and nearing completion. The truth is, as we have spoken previously, the birth course will be set by the baby and internal forces. However, there are some actions that may affect the outcome.”
He sat up briskly, suddenly alert and businesslike. “Here is the plan. William, you will freshen up and dress, then go have a full breakfast…”
“You were serious about that?”
“Absolutely. Well, not about the baby's eyesight part, but you do need to take a few minutes for yourself.”
“I am not leaving my wife!”
“Dearest, I think your uncle is right about this. No, listen. I will need you more later, and you need to be fresh and energized. Food is essential for you as you get grumpy when hungry.” She smiled tenderly, caressing the hand clasped in hers. “And only I am allowed to become grumpy today.”
“I will not leave her, William, and Mrs. Reynolds should return momentarily. We will call you if needed, but trust me in that nothing will change in the following hour, sorry, Elizabeth.”
“Write to Jane and Charles, beloved, and take care of yourself. I will be fine.” She halted as another pain enveloped her. Darcy assumed his role as comforter.
George rose to answer the knock on the sitting room door, revealing a tray-encumbered Mrs. Reynolds trailed by three equally laden maids. “Well, well!” He declared with a broad grin and snatched a blackberry tart, biting hugely. “Mmmmm… Oh my, this is heavenly.” He sighed, eyes closed in ecstasy. “Mrs. Langton is a gift from God.”
“I believe these were for Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, Dr. Darcy,” Mrs. Reynolds said with a smile, “but by all means, help yourself.”
“Thank you, madam. Actually, the father-to-be is ordered to break his fast with his sister, and none of these delicious edibles are appropriate for Mrs. Darcy. She is restricted to liquids and perhaps fruits, if she can tolerate. Anything heavy will induce nausea.” He turned to one of the maids. “Miss, we will require a steady influx of hot, sweet tea and juices.” He continued his orders for the kitchen then enlightened the housekeeper on the current status of her Mistress.
Meanwhile, Lizzy's latest contraction ebbed with her husband by her side. He gazed intently at her face, smoothing over her brow as they simultaneously released the final breath. Lizzy chuckled lowly. “I appreciate the empathetic reactions, but you do not need to breathe with me each time. I fear you may faint!”
He shook his head, serious and troubled. “It is unconscious, for the most part, but I find it helps.” He traced fingertips over her features, pausing on her lips, “Elizabeth, I am so proud of you already. You are so brave and in control whereas I am near to collapsing in a heap. I abhor seeing you in pain, even for the cause of bringing our child into the world. I feel helpless.”
She pulled his head onto her breast, caressing through his hair and kissing his wrinkled forehead. “You are my rock, Fitzwilliam. I could not manage this without you. In fact, this morning, when my pains began, it was all I could do to not wake you! I love you and need you by my side. I was so selfishly happy when you woke up.”
“Which is why I cannot leave you now,” he stated firmly.
“Yet you will, because I will insist. Shhhh…” She pressed two fingers onto his parted lips, Darcy having lifted from her chest with a ready protest. “You will do this for me, to ease my mind. Write to Jane, bathe, eat, allow Georgiana to calm you, and return to me renewed. Then you can help me walk a bit. I am feeling cramped and edgy. The last few pains have hurt a bit more, but primarily I am thirsty and need to stretch.”
Darcy assisted her rising, lending both arms to aid her waddling gait into the sitting room.
“Mrs. Darcy, I brought cold juice as well as hot tea. There is food if you feel able, although Dr. Darcy suggests consuming cautiously to stave off nausea.” Mrs. Reynolds prattled on as she fluffed several pillows on the chaise, Darcy assisting his wife to sit comfortably while George poured a tall glass of juice.
Lizzy drank the entire glass in practically one swallow. Mrs. Reynolds busied herself preparing a cup of tea and small plate of sliced fruit, Darcy suddenly acutely aware of his attire. The housekeeper had certainly seen her Master in casual garb on numerous occasions, but the addition of another body into the room made him keenly aware of the number of people that would be shuffling through before the day was over. The idea of wearing full formal dress was unappealing, but staying clothed in merely a robe was untenable. On top of that revelation was the hollow emptiness in his stomach starkly awoken by the array of food on the table. All at once the thought of coffee was an immeasurable craving.
He glanced back at Lizzy, who was observing him with a tiny smile. “Go eat, but kiss me first.”
He bent obediently and complied, softly and with reverence, brushing knuckles over her cheeks as he tasted the apples on her lips and tongue. “I love you, Mrs. Darcy, with all my soul. I will return quickly.”
The respite was beneficial for both of them. Darcy wrote the note for the Bingleys, sending a groom to Hasberry posthaste. His plan was to then wash quickly, but Samuel had a bath drawn and the sight was far too inviting to resist. He bathed thoroughly, unable to avoid closing his eyes for a spell and allowing the soothing water to ease his tension. Not for long, however; the desire for coffee and food was almost as strong as the desire to return to his wife. Samuel, wisely and surprisingly, had chosen his Master's most comfortable clothes: breeches of soft wool, thin hose and house shoes, lightweight linen shirt, thin waistcoat, and summer jacket. All were quite inappropriate for this time of year yet somehow even the inexperienced valet knew his Master would be sweating before the day was over. A cravat was not offered nor would have been worn.