Then the nighttime came. Transferring to the big bed, even with his stuffed animal companions to keep him company, proved to be a traumatic event. He refused to fall asleep in the bed, so for two weeks straight he stayed with his parents until asleep, before being moved to his room. Unfortunately he would wake later, something that was extremely unusual for him. Mrs. Hanford tried to sleep with him but the bed, although large for a toddler, was not large enough for a grown woman, some dozen animals, and a child who flipped about constantly. Often he cried out when waking suddenly from a disquieting dream, bringing his nanny quickly to console. Other times he simply woke, grabbed Dog, and padded down the short hall seeking solace from his parents. This came with risks, such as the first time he did so when Darcy and Lizzy were taken utterly by surprise and learned a valuable lesson in privacy and security.
On the night in question, they deposited a deeply sleeping Alexander in his own bed and then retired to their chamber for adult entertainment of a most intimate nature. It was nearing midnight and not five minutes after a mutually dizzying culmination with their bodies yet joined and Darcy crushing his wife into the soft mattress. He lifted his head with a groan to bestow an intense post-loving kiss. Pulling away and bending to kiss her glistening shoulder, Darcy noted movement in his peripheral vision. He turned, freezing instantly and barely halting the reflexive expletive that rose to his lips, eyes locking with the wide-eyed gaze of Alexander.
The toddler stood not a foot away in the gap between the bed curtains, serious face unperturbed as he said, “Papa, I scared. Bad dream.”
Lizzy jerked and squelched a scream, turning toward her son, both of them paralyzed where they lay for what seemed like hours. The foremost thought was one of intense embarrassment, although both were sending silent prayers that they had chosen to keep the covers over their bodies as they loved and that the curtains were drawn. However, they had no idea how long he had been standing there, neither noting anything other than their own zeal for the past half hour at least.
Darcy carefully disengaged from his wife, blankets held securely, although there was really nothing either could do about their nakedness. “I am sorry, sweet. Come here, Papa will make it all better.” He opened his arms and Alexander climbed onto the bed, nestling snuggly in the warm circle of his father’s embrace, clutching Dog tightly.
Lizzy had regained her composure, barely, rising to look over Darcy’s body and reaching to comfort her son. “Are you better now, darling?” She smoothed the crazy curls on his brow, his eyes meeting hers in the dimly lit darkness.
“Better,” he replied. “You better, Mama? Bad dream gone bye?”
“I am fine, sweetie. What do you mean?”
“You scream. Ogre get you too?”
Darcy howled, Lizzy slapping his back and hiding her instantly scarlet face in his shoulder. “It is well, Alexander,” he affirmed with a gasping laugh. “Papa was here to make Mama feel good… very, very good.”
“Fitzwilliam!”
Darcy had enormous fun with that one, but from that day forward, he did remember to lock the door securely no matter how caught up in their passion they were. Of course, they also remembered to unlock it later just in case a frightened youngster tiptoed in, as was the case from time to time.
Alexander’s transition was aided remarkably by the admission of Mrs. Hanford’s daughter Lisa as assistant nanny. Alexander knew the nineteen-year-old well, loved her even, so was delighted to have her close by at all times. Lisa was smaller than her matronly mother and accustomed to sleeping in a bed crammed with nieces and nephews, so slumbering with just Alexander was a luxury! By the time Michael made his appearance, the upheaval was adjusted to and Alexander would dwell in this room until his marriage many, many years hence.
Aside from that drama, the weeks after returning to Pemberley were tranquil. Their excitement was high, of course, but they were also calm and well prepared, having been through it once before.
Shortly after returning to Pemberley, father and son stood gazing at the massive tapestries tracing the Darcy ancestry that hung in the grand foyer. Darcy traced the lines, reciting the names to the raptly listening baby who said nothing until his father read the name Anton Darcy.
His chubby thumb exited his mouth with an audible pop, followed by a moistly declared, “Anton.”
“Yes. That is correct, Alexander. Anton Darcy was our ancestor, over two centuries ago. His son was Herbert Darcy, then John…”
“Anton.”
Darcy looked at the face so close and resembling his own, the baby’s eyes riveted to the fine threads scrolled to form the name Anton. Darcy smiled. “Indeed. Anton. Probably from the Roman influence. A shortened form of Anthony, or perhaps for Mark Antony, the Roman general who ruled for a time as Emperor. Do you like that name?”
“Anton.”
And that is how it began. Everything and everyone was “Anton” from there on. Even Dog was dubbed Anton for a time. When they told him that if the baby was a boy he would be named Michael, Alexander nodded calmly then pointed to Lizzy’s belly and said, “Anton.” They laughed and tried in vain to correct him, but what happened instead is that they grew to love the name and realized it flowed nicely. Thus it was decided that their second child, if a boy, would be christened Michael James Anton Darcy. They did toss around a few girl names, but Lizzy was convinced she was having a boy, so serious deliberation was ignored.
The waning days of summer led into a mild fall. Darcy was busy nearly every day, but always allotted time to play with Alexander. Now that he was older, Lizzy relinquished her hovering concern to a degree and Darcy was able to take his son into the stables or town, to visit with Mr. Vernor or Mr. Hughes, and once to Rowan Lake for naked bathing. Darcy chose a docile mare to ride around the corral with Alexander on his lap, the toddler unrestrained in his joy over the activity, much to Darcy’s delight and Lizzy’s resignation.
In every way life was picture perfection. Nothing marred the tranquility permeating the atmosphere of Pemberley as they enjoyed the sunlit days and nights of family felicity. Neither Lizzy nor Darcy took it for granted, but it was natural to relax into the contentment and almost assume that it could be thus forever. Very shortly they would discover that life is never perfect and that even the best marriages can suffer.
Considering the probable conception time, when Lizzy began experiencing symptoms and quickening, and how the pregnancy was advancing, Dr. Darcy’s professional calculation was for a date of confinement roughly one month before Alexander’s second birthday, November 27 of 1819.
Of course, they were wrong. In fact, they would be proven wrong on numerous counts regarding the outcome of their second child’s arrival into their happy family.
Aside from the fact that Michael delivered on September 14, nearly one and a half months before anticipated, labor onset took Lizzy utterly by surprise. She hummingly proceeded to sew, decorate, and arrange household matters in the days prior to his birth, sure that she had over a month yet to go. She suffered none of the weariness, backaches, or false contractions that had been rampant toward the latter months of Alexander’s gestation, and aside for a mild ungainliness, she was healthier than ever before.