Page 90

“I say, Darce—stop pacing and have another whiskey. You’re making me dizzy.”

“Thank you, Bingley, but for the fourth time, I do not wish for another whiskey. As you can plainly see, I’ve not yet finished the first that you poured for me.”

Charles squinted at the glass that had been set upon the mantle several hours before (and was, indeed, nearly full) and then at the half empty bottle in his hand.

“But this is whiskey from the case my father left! I brought it just for you, in your time of need! If you haven’t drunk it, then where’s it gone? ”

Mr. Darcy gave his friend a dark look and muttered, “Drink your whiskey and go back to sleep, Bingley,” before turning his attention back to pacing the length of the library.

“I haven’t been… have I?” Charles was distracted from his argument by the glass in his hand that now appeared to have magically refilled itself. “Oh whatever.” He downed the whiskey rather more quickly than his father might have approved of and soon drifted back to the Land of Nod.

Meanwhile, the Earl of Matlock continued snoring without a pause.

In truth, Darcy was relieved. Although he appreciated that both the Bingleys and Fitzwilliams had come to Pemberley in time for the birth of his first child, there were moments when he very much would have preferred to be alone in this particular vigil.

He had been awakened not long after midnight when Elizabeth had rolled to the side of their bed and tried to stand.

Since returning from London, her belly had grown at such an astonishing rate that Will had found it nearly impossible to drag his eyes away whenever his wife was in the same room.

Fortunately, Lizzy had claimed to find his fixation amusing and teased that it must be something in the Derbyshire air .

When he realized she was trying to rise, Will had leapt from the bed to help.

After using the water closet, she had tried returning to sleep, but after enduring nearly an hour of restless wakefulness, Elizabeth finally admitted that the birthing pains had begun.

Darcy had instantly insisted on waking the doctor.

When she protested, he pointed out that the man had been hired to stay at Pemberley for precisely this reason and might as well be of use.

The specialist turned out to have little information to offer other than to agree that the birth had probably begun.

He recommended that both Darcys try to sleep or, if that was not possible for the lady, that she attempt to walk.

Fitzwilliam had insisted on doing whatever she did, and as Elizabeth knew it would be quite impossible to even feign sleep, he had found himself walking with his wife through Pemberley’s halls and galleries through the wee hours of the morning, entertaining her with stories of the various Darcy ancestors who stared down upon them.

The rising sun was just beginning to flood the hills with light when Elizabeth had doubled over in pain for the first time.

Thankfully, the servants were up and about by then and, in an instant, there had been a dozen hands reaching to help her, Mrs. Reynolds and Tilly at the fore.

Darcy had demanded the doctor and a footman had been sent running.

Fortunately, the physician was a learned man with experience in both pregnant women and nervous husbands.

Fitzwilliam had helped Elizabeth to the door of the birthing chamber and then she had been taken away from him. He had been preparing to argue when his aunt and uncle found him in the hallway, doubtless summoned by Mrs. Reynolds.

“No, Darcy; I will check on her. Why don’t you go have some breakfast, or perhaps there is some work on the estate you should see to?” Lady Eleanor had given her husband a pointed look and then slipped into the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Fitzwilliam continued staring at the door until Matlock caught his elbow and drew him away. “Come, son; there’s nothing left for us to do here. It is up to the women, now.”

This statement might have been meant to reassure the younger man, but Will found himself even more agitated than before.

However, in his distraction, Lord Henry succeeded in drawing him away and in short order Darcy found himself in the breakfast parlor with Bingley and Matlock as if it was any other Tuesday morning.

When his uncle attempted to serve him a plate piled with kippers and eggs, however, Darcy turned a disturbing shade of green and took coffee and toast in his study, instead.

Nearly an hour had passed and Fitzwilliam had just decided to return upstairs and demand to see his wife when he caught the sound of his aunt’s voice ringing down the hall.

When he discovered her in the breakfast parlor, calmly serving coffee to the doctor, however, he was so shocked that he stood in the doorway for a full minute before anyone noticed him.

“Mrs. Bingley is with her sister, Fitzwilliam,” said the Countess in a tone that was meant to be soothing but which sounded to Darcy like an admonishment to a child. He turned on his heel and completely disregarded the voices calling for him to come back.

After ascending the stairs two at a time, Will ignored the fact that he was out of breath and rapped sharply on the door. Before he had lowered his fist, the door opened and Elizabeth stood before him with a mischievous smile.

“And here he is, just as I predicted.” Glancing back over her shoulder, she called, “Jane, I shall be touring the gallery with my handsome husband. Why don’t you go down to breakfast?”

Turning to Mr. Darcy, she took his arm and drew him along the hall.

Observing his confused expression, she explained, “Your aunt felt that Bingley and Lord Henry would keep you occupied, but I said… oh!” She leaned on his arm with both hands as a pain took her, leaving Will feeling entirely helpless.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t feel better in bed?” he asked worriedly.

“Ahh… ahhh… no.” She took a breath very carefully, and then, reassured that it was over, tugged on his arm again so that she could continue walking. “The doctor believes it will be some hours yet, but walking may help things along.”

“And is there not something I may get for your relief? Tea, perhaps, or a glass of wine?”

Elizabeth only shook her head. “They gave me some broth earlier.” Darcy gave her a sharp look and she rolled her eyes. “I drank it… well, most of it.”

Deciding to accept her answer for the present, Darcy muttered, “Count your blessings. Matlock tried to feed me a plateful of kippers.”

Knowing of her husband’s distaste for that particular delicacy, Lizzy laughed aloud.

They continued their strange promenade for another circuit of the halls until the pain immobilized her again.

When it faded, she continued to cling to his arm, resting her head against his chest. “I’m frightened, Will,” she finally admitted in a whisper.

He wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and held her as close as he dared, burying his face in her hair. “I know, dearest… I know. It will all be well, I promise.”

Normally, Lizzy would have teased him for professing such omnipotence, but today she found that she did not have any zest for the contest. After surviving another round of contractions, she took a deep breath and rallied her spirits.

“Well, if you are determined to ignore all the business that I know is piled up on your desk, then perhaps you can tell me about this very mischievous-looking lady whose portrait hangs down at the end of the hall. She looks to me as if she was plotting to pepper the artist’s snuff box. ”

The Darcys walked and talked for nearly two hours before Mrs. Reynolds appeared to claim her mistress. “The doctor would like to check how you are progressing, ma’am.”

Left standing at the door again, this time Mr. Darcy found himself drawn downstairs and out to the stables by the other gentlemen.

It took some time, but eventually he convinced his uncle that they would have to knock him out and tie him to the horse before he would go riding about the countryside while his wife lay laboring above.

Next, Lord Henry did his best to draw his nephew into a discussion of the pedigrees and breeding plans for the various horses in the Pemberley stables, but when his questions drew only monosyllables, he became understandably exasperated.

Fortunately, at that point Bingley came through with an activity that required nothing more than a hound and a stick.

This sequence of events would be repeated with only minor variations for the remainder of the day and into the evening, finally culminating with the current situation wherein Darcy paced the library, entirely sober, while Matlock and Bingley had long ago succumbed to the aforementioned whiskey.

Pemberley’s master was just resolving to return upstairs and storm the birthing room when a very tired Mrs. Bingley appeared in the doorway.

“Mr. Darcy? Oh dear—they don’t look as if they’ve been much use to you…

I told Charles that the whiskey might not be such a good idea, but he was so very pleased to have it to offer you, particularly after his father… ”

Deciding that it would be faster to seek out the information he desired rather than wait for Jane to get to the point, Darcy stepped around her and took the stairs two at a time. He reached the door just as his aunt was stepping out into the hall.

Taking in his wild appearance, Eleanor smiled kindly and kissed his cheek. “Your wife is a very brave girl, Fitzwilliam. Congratulations.”

Still lacking any solid information, Darcy managed only a small nod before stepping around his aunt and into the room beyond.

The drapes were drawn and only a few candles lit, making it very dim and far too much like a funeral vigil for his peace of mind.

Even before his eyes adjusted, however, he heard the soft murmur of his wife’s voice. “Elizabeth?”