Karen Wasylowski - Darcy and Fitzwilliam - A Tale of a Gentleman and an Officer

“Yes, Harry. I am your poppa now. And you are my son.”

Harry stretched his arms around Richard’s neck for a hug. He sighed in his contentment. “Good.” Then he yawned.

Tears welled in Richard’s eyes, his hold tightening on the child. “Well, why don’t you snuggle in and try to get some rest? You look very tired, and I’ve heard these things can take a while. If you like, I can tell you some more of my stories about that horrible little Frenchman.”

After two miserable hours, Darcy had walked off his anger and was turning onto St. James Street, although still several blocks from his house. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets while his thoughts were miles away from where they had started, the anger that had propelled him into madness now completely dissipated to be replaced by a mental assessment of Elizabeth’s upcoming final month. He shook his head in wonder. How in hell would they survive? His glance drifted far ahead, down the street to where their house stood, spying in the distance what appeared to be the bright light from the front foyer of their town home. He stopped dead in his tracks. I must have left the door open. Oh, what an idiot! He quickened his pace.

As he came closer, he could hear panic in the raised voices coming from the vicinity of his house, the shouted commands in the still night. Apprehension began to grip at him. The figure of his butler, Winters, was recognizable on the top stair, pointing to the left as a footman went running in that direction. Then he saw another one of his footmen change direction as soon as he spotted him, and was fast approaching, waving his arms frantically.

“Mr. Darcy, come quick. It’s the baby!”

“What about the baby?” Darcy bolted past the gasping footman. “Is Mrs. Darcy all right?”

“The baby is coming now, sir.”

Darcy was startled at first then greatly confused, his panic intensifying. “But we have four weeks left…” By this time, another figure was out the door, off running to the right, when Winters spotted Darcy and waved to him from the threshold.

“Mr. Darcy, thank heavens you’ve returned, sir!” The poor old retainer was gasping for breath. Darcy had reached the gate and could see curtains from neighboring homes being pulled back and people gazing out. He pushed his way past several gentlemen who had crossed the street, curious as to what was wrong.

“We have several footmen out trying to find a doctor, sir. Please do not be alarmed.”

Darcy charged up the front steps two at a time and grabbed his butler by the shoulders. “What in bloody hell do you mean? Where is Doctor Baire? Where are the other doctors? Where is the midwife? Have you not tried to find the midwife? Who is with Mrs. Darcy?”

Darcy had just walked, actually run, into his worst nightmare.

“We have at least five footmen out searching, sir.” Winters’s voice shook. “I am certain it won’t be long.” Although he was attempting to look confident, Darcy could see the fear in the old man’s eyes.

“Darcy!” He heard Fitzwilliam’s voice from inside and ran instinctively toward it, quickly seeing him at the doorway of the smaller ladies’ parlor. He held a sleeping child in his arms.

“Who’s with her?” Darcy’s breathing was uneven.

“Amanda and Mrs. Winters, and her maid, I think.”

Darcy was at the top of the stairs before he could finish.

“Stop pushing now, Elizabeth. I am going to feel your stomach again.”

Darcy looked uneasily at the figure lying on the bed, nearly hidden by Mrs. Winters and the maid as they crisscrossed his view. Cara ran around to the other side of the bed, and he then saw his Lizzy being held in a half-sitting position against another maid, his wife’s fingers clutching desperately at the covers beneath her. Amanda turned toward him slightly as she sat down on a stool placed between Lizzy’s legs.

It was the sight of blood smeared across Amanda’s apron that finally shocked Darcy back to his senses, roused him from his frozen stance in the doorway, and propelled him swiftly into the room.

“What the devil is going on here, Elizabeth?” An anxious-looking Darcy walked quickly to the side of the bed. “You are not due to deliver for another four weeks.” With that futile objection voiced, he pulled the maid from behind his wife to take her place, supporting Lizzy’s back. Kissing her neck and cheek, he tightened his arms around her.

“Are you all right?” he whispered into her hair. “Please be all right.” He pressed his eyes closed to compose his escalating emotions and prayed that the good Lord would spare him from having a heart attack until he knew his wife was safe.

Amanda gave him a sympathetic look. “Evidently someone failed to inform the baby of the delivery date. I assure you, Mr. Darcy, your child is coming now.”

“William, please calm yourself.” Elizabeth could feel his pounding heart beneath her cheek. She looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. “I only thank God you are finally here. I love you, William, remember that , whatever happens . Please forgive me.”

He did not like her words. Frightened by what they implied, he roughly kissed her mouth then pulled her firmly back against himself and closed his eyes to fight off his own stinging tears. “Nothing to forgive,” he finally managed to say, his voice thick with emotion. “Love you so much, Lizzy.”

“Did you know that Fitzwilliam and Amanda were coming here this evening?” When he did not respond immediately, she shook her finger at him. “You must tell me things like this, William. I haven’t even prepared a room for them.”

“I could not, Elizabeth.” In his concern for her, he actually had forgotten about Fitzwilliam’s escape, but that was something he would never admit. “Fitz swore me to secrecy. Besides, I…” He looked on in terror as her face began to contort, a sudden scream erupting from her as she stared straight at him. Her hands were clutching and tearing at the sheets. It was a mind-numbing scream. It was ear-deafening. He shook his head at the ringing in his brain.

“Elizabeth, please be sensible. He made me swear.” He realized she was not angry with him, only in the midst of a labor pain, when she squeezed his hands until his fingers nearly popped like little balloons. He tried not to flinch until she relaxed her hold.

“Is everything all right?” he asked Amanda, dreading the response. “Is this normal?”

“Everything appears to be fine, Mr. Darcy. Although she has had a rather rough time of it, she is a strong and brave young woman. I am very proud to call her Cousin. All right, now push again, Elizabeth; we shall soon see the crown hopefully.”

Lizzy began crying and laughing, eager that the end might be within sight. She weakly pressed her head against Darcy’s chest. “Amanda and I have progressed to using our Christian names. We feel we are quite well acquainted by now.” She inhaled raggedly. “Well, here we go again.” She began once more to push and cry and grunt and swear with pain.

“Are the pains always so tremendous? I thought they would build up gradually. Perhaps there is something more happening here since the child is coming so early.” It was less than a quarter hour later, and Darcy was shocked by Lizzy’s grueling labor.

“Actually, the child appears to be full term, so do not be concerned with that. Unfortunately, I think your wife has been having pains for longer than you know. Since they were in her back, she failed to identify them as her labor.” Amanda turned to the side table for a towel, certain the birth was only moments away.