“It is insignificant. I will not leave you again, so do not ask.” His grip tightened and he pressed his cheek into her hair. “I love you, my dearest wife. Are you certain you are comfortable?”
“As much as is possible,” she laughed faintly, closing her eyes in an attempt to doze even if only for a second. “Comfortable” in any definition of the word became impossible as the subsequent hours unfolded. The contractions lengthened in both duration and intensity coupled with an increased frequency, which meant less time for her to recover in between. Those precious minutes were hastily consumed with ragged breathing and searing back pain. Somewhere in the midst she was incessantly plied with sips of water and cubes of sugar to keep up her strength.
Through it all Jane maintained her post to Lizzy's right side. Her placid strength, tranquil tone of speech, and gentle persuasion calmed Lizzy greatly. Since childhood Jane had been the steadying, rational voice amid Lizzy's ofttimes chaotic, impetuous nature. So it was now as Jane stroked her hand and forehead, murmuring pacifying sentences, relating memories of peaceful moments and places from their youth all designed to distract and soothe. It was successful to varying degrees as the afternoon waned into early evening.
Darcy kept his vigil to his wife's left side. Where Jane was the temperate tranquilizer, Darcy was the stabilizing stone. At times it was purely physicaclass="underline" his sturdy physique and capable hands essential for support and penetrating kneading to aching or cramping muscles. Other times it was his manly voice with resonant tones as he spoke of his love and pride, his soft lips brushing over her temples and knuckles, his fiercely kind eyes as he gazed with bottomless wells of adoration and encouragement. He seemed to instinctively know what she required at any given moment. If it was tenderness, then his voice and touch softened, stroking soothingly. If it was focus, then his voice deepened into the familiar ring of the Master of Pemberley, commanding her to concentrate and breathe.
“I cannot do it! Please make it stop!” Lizzy gripped his hand during one such incident, the spasms burning through the middle of her body in a fury. Her eyes were tightly shut, sweat beading on her brow, and head tossing to and fro while she whimpered.
Darcy grasped her cheeks in hands of iron, face inches from hers, voice low and resolute, “Elizabeth, look at me! You can do this and you will! Now, focus on me and breathe. Inhale deep, that is it, now exhale, good, and again. No! Open your eyes! Focus on me! It will pass. Breathe again and one more is gone, all the nearer to seeing our son. Excellent! I am so proud of you, Elizabeth.” And the litany would continue with kisses and caresses until the next pain.
None in the room sensed the internal struggle Darcy endured. A juvenile but persistent part of his soul wanted to scream in frustration, to rage against the impotence of a situation where the generally authoritative man of power was at the mercy of forces beyond his control. A small but very loud voice inside his head yelled at him to run, far away to some distant corner of the mansion where he could curl up into a fetal ball and hide from witnessing the agony suffered by the woman he loved more than life. Yet with typical, well-honed Darcy steel and discipline, he squelched those inner urges, recognizing them as childish and demeaning. Primarily he understood that despite his dismay at watching Elizabeth in her travail, there was in truth nowhere on earth he would rather be. As awful as it was at times, he knew he was providing a necessary service to his wife and partaking in a miracle. Always central in his mind's eye was the image of their baby, conceived in tremendous love, who would make his, or her, appearance to the world in due course. The thought of missing that advent was intolerable.
Dr. Darcy and Mrs. Henderson sat across the room, silent for the most part as they observed the unrelenting process transpiring on the bed. On occasion George would rise to assess Lizzy's progress, declaring with satisfaction that all was proceeding as expected. His dry humor, usually rather biting and sarcastic, was gentle with the perfect blend of wittiness and sensitive timing to ease the building strain. Mrs. Reynolds and Mrs. Hanford sat near the fire, keeping it blazing and rotating the waiting towels and linens. The housekeeper quietly communicated with Marguerite and Samuel, who loitered outside the room awaiting instructions for hot water or other supplies, and relayed information to Miss Darcy and Mr. Bingley. In fact, the entire household collectively sat on tenterhooks, no real work being accomplished as they awaited the news that all was well with their Mistress.
As dusk fell over the landscape, lamps lit and fires built, Lizzy successfully made the transition into the final stages of the birth process. Like all women down through the long ages since Eve, Lizzy instinctively sensed the subtle alteration in the contractions accompanied by an intense pressure felt low in her pelvis. Primarily it was an indescribable, uncontrollable urge to forcefully expel the cause of all her agony. It overwhelmed her reason, breathing no longer a viable option as the burning to her groin intensified torrentially; the heaviness demanding she hold her breath and bear down.
This she did, surprising her two companions who attempted in vain to persuade her to concentrate, but spurring her two childbirth professionals to jump up and lunge toward the bed. Darcy recoiled in shock when George sat efficiently on the end of the bed, spreading Lizzy's legs as he lifted the sheet. A quick probe confirmed what he suspected and after a nod to Mrs. Henderson, who turned to Mrs. Reynolds for instructions, he looked to Darcy with a beaming smile.
“Elizabeth is completely open now. Henceforth begins the real work, all else thus far leading up to this.” His fingers were between her legs, carefully palpating as she began to relax into Darcy's waiting embrace. “Elizabeth, look at me. Very good, dear. Now listen carefully. Your baby is very low and ready to be born. You are as open as you can get, making room for his body. Still, as I have discussed with William and he has shared with you, this can take time. The infant still has some distance to travel and you must use the remaining pains to bring him forth. Do you understand so far?”
They both nodded, Darcy wiping his wife's brow and neck with a wet cloth while Lizzy panted. Dr. Darcy resumed, “The contractions will space out a bit, but when they occur you must hold your breath and bear down, hard, with each one. It will hurt, Elizabeth, but you must persevere. Breathe when necessary, but keep pushing toward your derriere until the pain halts.”
“How long, Uncle?” Darcy asked in a hoarse voice.
“Let us wait and see how the next few contractions proceed.”
A flurry of activity erupted in the room. Fresh buckets of water were brought, George washing his hands and soaking several rags. Additional lamps were lit for illumination.
The Darcys noted none of it. Lizzy reclined on her husband's warm chest, cocking her head to better see his luminous visage. She smiled, raising a hand to stroke his cheek, and Darcy almost fainted with a surge of breathless joy. Never had she been more beautiful to him than at that moment. Her hair was disheveled and loose from its braid, face flushed and slightly puffy, lips dry; yet she exuded a radiant happiness that transcended the particulars.
“I love you, Elizabeth,” he whispered, cupping her face. “Thank you for allowing me to be a part of this miracle.”
She laughed, eyes twinkling and for the first time in hours responding with the friskiness of his Lizzy apparent. “Well, Mr. Darcy, considering you were an integral part of the inception of the miracle, it is only apropos you are present at its consummation! I would not be in this predicament if not for you and could not survive it without you. Now, do your job and hand me that glass of water.” She pursed her lips, blowing a kiss as she patted his smiling mouth with her fingertips, Darcy chuckling in a liberating release of nervousness as he reached for the indicated liquid.