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I t was little more than six months later that Darcy paced the floor of his library at Darcy House. It was too soon, far too soon to face losing her. His cousin Richard approached him holding a glass.

“Drink this, Darcy. It will be some hours yet.”

He nodded his thanks and took the glass, unable to speak. Elizabeth was upstairs. And he couldn’t be with her.

All he wanted to do was pace the floor, his heart and mind upstairs where his wife was labouring alone. Well, not alone, of course. But without him.

His cousin crossed the room with a further whisky for the duke, sitting white-faced on an upright chair at the far side of the library. Darcy could spare him barely a moment’s thought.

Both men had spent the last few months in a state of high anxiety, unable to think of anything other than their fears for Elizabeth.

He was still disbelieving that she had managed to withhold the news of her condition for so many months, and could hardly countenance his shame that he had not noticed the changes in her earlier.

He smiled wryly as he paused at the window. He ought to have become suspicious when she had shown no desire to go to Pemberley for the summer, instead, finding occasions she ‘must’ attend and full occupation in town.

But he had discovered her, crushing her to him in delight and joy, and they’d had several weeks of quiet happiness together before she had shared the news with her father.

Then his physician had written to him. Darcy shuddered. He would never forget that day.

Sir Charles had called both him and the duke to a private consultation at his Harley Street rooms.

“I wanted to speak to you both of my concerns without informing Lady Elizabeth.”

With those words, Darcy’s world had come crashing down around him, the following hour driving a sword through his heart. It was all his fault.

“I must tell you that modern medicine cannot help if the infant is too large to pass through the birth canal. And that we will not know until labour is well-established.” The doctor had looked at them both with sympathy in his gaze.

“All may yet be well. It is hard to tell from a lady’s stature whether this will cause difficulties, but Lady Elizabeth is of a very slight build and therefore the risks to her and the child are there.

I could not accept the honour of this case without informing you of the greater risk to her and give you the opportunity to seek a second opinion.

However, I would pray that you give no intimation to her of my words.

I believe she would be best not knowing of the difficulties she may encounter. ”

Afterwards, Darcy had gone back to Osborne House with the duke to talk without Elizabeth suspecting anything.

“What will you do?” The duke sounded old and tired, the shock within him echoing Darcy’s. “I thought marriage would protect her, or I would have kept her with me longer.”

Darcy had clutched his glass. “You could not have known. And I did not think of it, and am as much to blame.”

All they could do was to vow she would never know of their fears — and agree to make these months the happiest for her that they could.

And that had given him memories, memories of such joy as he had never known until they were wed.

Walking through the great gardens of Kew Palace and exploring the orangery at Kensington; watching her enjoying the company of her infant brother and the rest of the family.

Memories of her mischievous delight in the frustration of Lady Catherine and Collins at the foiling of their plot, and the safe arrival of the infant Rose Bingley.

Several days each week, she joined the duke, and Darcy could not but count the hours until he could be with her again. But he could not deny her father time with her now. It was all they might have.

Time stood still. Only the clock showed the passing of the hours. Mealtimes came and went ignored. Night passed, ignored.

Darcy was losing hope, and he watched the diminishing of the older man, sitting silent, hour after hour.

His cousin had been silent too, for many hours now, only moving to order fresh coffee, or a plate for them that neither man could touch.

Towards the end of the second day, Mrs. Gardiner came into the room, her face showing sorrow and exhaustion.

Darcy staggered, and grasped the back of the nearest chair. “Please …”

She approached him and extended her hand. “I’m sorry, Mr. Darcy, it goes very hard with her. But she is asking for you. Can you be strong for her?”

He almost bolted from the room. “Take me to her.” Nothing mattered except the opportunity to be with her before he lost her.

“Sir Charles does not think it a good idea, but I believe we ought to honour her wish.” Mrs. Gardiner looked determined, and her words told him he might have to overrule his own physician.

He glanced at the duke as he left the room. But there was nothing he could say.

Three flights of stairs. He could not be polite and walk with Mrs. Gardiner. He took them three at a time, barely noticing the heavy silence and stillness of the house.

He brushed past Sir Charles and the midwife, seeing they were dishevelled with tiredness. He had eyes only for Elizabeth, tiny and white-faced in the large bed. But she extended her hand to him, and he dropped to his knees beside her.

“William. Thank you.”

“Oh, my dearest, dearest Elizabeth. Are — why are you thanking me?”

“For being willing to come upstairs.” Her whisper was faint and her hand tightened in his, and she suddenly screwed up her face.

Mrs Gardiner appeared at the other side of the bed, and wiped Elizabeth’s forehead with a wet cloth.

Darcy leaned forward and put his face beside Elizabeth’s.

“My beloved. How can I help you best?”

There was no reply for long minutes, until she relaxed, her breathing fast and laboured. She pulled his hand to her face. “Please help me to get up.”

“You can’t get up!” Was she delirious? He cast a fearful glance at Sir Charles, who shook his head, his expression defeated.

“Lady Elizabeth, this may take a while longer. Mr. Darcy may stay with you if you desire it.”

She shook her head weakly. “Please, William. I need you to do this.” Her whisper was weak.

He would do anything for her — but to let her rise from the bed?

“It will be easier for …” her whisper was cut off as her body went rigid again. More long minutes of watching her agony.

How could he stay and watch?

How could he leave her?

“Hold me, William. Let me stand, and you can hold me up. I’m sorry to ask this of you, but … the only way …” her whispers were intermittent, faint.

If this was what she wished, then he would do what she asked. It might be all he could do for her, and she was too fatigued for him to question her.

It was no time at all before he was standing with her leaning into his embrace. He’d leaned down to have his arms around her where she wanted, and she rested her head against his chest. “Thank you. This will be easier.”

Long minutes. Darcy bent his head to touch Elizabeth’s as she rested hers against him. He must remember this forever. It might be their last moments together.

He felt her huff a silent laugh, and he looked at her. “Don’t be afraid, William. I am going to do this.”

Her body tensed in his embrace. Long, long minutes, and then a cry of relief.

The midwife was bending to her task, then lifting something in a towel. “A boy!”

A thin, weak wail that pierced Darcy through, and Elizabeth sagged in his arms. In an instant, he’d lifted her, and the midwife held the child next to her as Darcy placed her tenderly on the bed, his eyes only on her expression of incandescent joy as she looked at the crumpled features of their son.

There was a touch on his shoulder. “May I relieve the pain of the duke and tell him?” Mrs. Gardiner’s whisper drew him back to the room. He nodded, and she was gone.

There was much activity around Elizabeth, but Darcy didn’t move. His arm was under her shoulders and his head rested against hers. He had thought he might never see her again. How could he leave her now?

But it did not seem long before she stirred beneath him.

Her hand came up to his face. “My own dear William. Thank you. Now I would ask you to leave me to the ladies so I might refresh myself. Would you do me the favour of sending up tea — the very largest teapot they have — and then go to my father and tell him I am well?”

Sir Charles laughed. “I think you have done well, Mr. Darcy. Remember to take some refreshment yourself. You may return in half an hour.”

It didn’t seem that he had been without rest for two days. Darcy hurried down the stairs and turned into the library. The duke was waiting by the door. He wrung Darcy’s hand.

“Thank you, thank you, my boy! Mrs. Gardiner told me that you saved Elizabeth’s life today. Thank you!”

His voice was quavery and he sounded very old. Darcy thought his own voice might sound no better. He sank onto a chair, and the duke sat down, too.

“Tell me how she is, Darcy. Tell me everything.”

Darcy shivered. “No, there are some things better not. But she is well.” He looked across at his cousin.

“Might you ring the bell for me, Richard, and summon the housekeeper?”

Within moments, she entered, her face wreathed in a smile almost as wide as he thought his own must be. “Lady Elizabeth is asking that you send up tea, Mrs. Porter — the very largest teapot, she said. Then you might send refreshments to us in here.” He glanced at the clock.

“Sir Charles says I may return in half an hour, so I will rejoin her then.”

“The largest teapot!” Richard laughed. “I believe all will be well if she is asking for that.”

The duke nodded. “I am … so thankful. But now I feel weary.” He looked at Darcy.

“If I return home, will you undertake to let me know of any changes — anything at all, and permit me to return?” His face settled into the old familiar lines of sorrow.

“It will be hard to wait through her confinement, so I will rely on you to keep me well informed.”

Darcy dipped his head. “I will. But I will also say that I doubt very much whether Elizabeth will follow all the usual confinement strictures.” He smiled.

“Perhaps, after you have slept, you will return tomorrow and meet your grandson at the very least. Or — would you prefer to take a chamber here to rest close by?”

The duke’s face brightened. “The boy is well?”

Darcy felt rueful. “I am afraid I looked only at Elizabeth. But I heard him wail within an instant of the birth, so I have some confidence.”

“I could not have found a more devoted husband for my daughter, had I searched for many years. Thank you, Darcy.”