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Elizabeth sat and listened as the men spoke. If she had any questions, she could ask Archy once they were alone. Archy would clarify anything she asked about.

“Yes, they could be,” Biggs concluded.

“At this point, make sure they are watched. If it is Mr Lucas Wickham, I will know how to act,” Hertfordshire instructed.

The two men bowed and left the study.

“It seems there is much to tell,” Elizabeth stated with an arched eyebrow. “I remember you remarking that Uncle Robert had not agreed to have his former steward transported; is that the same man?”

“Yes, my darling wife, I think it is that man. We will make sure he is watched and increase the guard on you and your sisters.”

“And on you when you are on your own. Admittedly, Archy, it is not very often you go anywhere without me, so as long as I am well guarded, you will be as well. John and Brian are excellent at what they do, and I know their men are very well trained.”

“Enough about that man, if it is him. Is it not time for you to rest?”

“It is. You take such good care of me. I could not imagine a better man than you. How I love you, my Archy.”

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

The Fitzwilliams and Darcys arrived on Friday, the eighteenth day of March. The former were without their sons, as were the latter without William.

Andrew and his new wife were at Hilldale in Staffordshire.

Richard was at Rosings Park, continuing to familiarize himself with the management of his new estate and to fix all of the problems left behind by Mrs de Bourgh.

William was overseeing the spring planting at River Run and was available if needed by Pemberley’s steward or Richard.

On Saturday morning, Hattie Phillips departed for Longbourn as planned with Cathy, Lydia, and Anna.

Although she had thought their house was spacious enough for their needs, Hattie had dropped her opposition and been convinced to move to Longbourn when His Grace and Lizzy had pointed out that it was advantageous for Cathy and Lydia to be raised in their ancestral home.

Frank had agreed as it was but one mile to Meryton, where his practice was, and besides his gig, they had the use of the Bennet carriage.

Before the Duke had added a team of carriage horses, there were times the horses were needed on the farm, but now there was no longer a conflict between agricultural versus conveyance needs.

The afternoon, after the midday meal, was quiet.

Elizabeth rested for a few hours after enjoying her food.

Elizabeth went to collect her Archy from the study and, with him, made her way to the library a little after three, where some of the residents of Falconwood were reading or playing games which did not generate much noise.

She sat on a chaise longue, a copy of Charlotte Smith’s Emmeline, The Orphan of the Castle in her hands.

Archy was seated on the same piece of furniture, and the dear man had placed her swollen feet on his legs, massaging them, not bothered by the others in the room.

Uncles Robert and Reggie were reading in one corner while Anthony—he and Charlotte had arrived two days previously—and his father were playing chess on the opposite side of the library.

As they approached the time for tea, Elizabeth had been reading the same page over and over again; yet she still could not say what was on it.

The dull pains had begun shortly after she sat.

They began low in her back and radiated around her belly, repeating every twelve to fifteen minutes.

From books she had read, Elizabeth was reasonably sure her labours had commenced.

Over the past month or so, she had experienced a random pain or two, here or there, but never continuous like they were now.

Looking up, Elizabeth saw Archy watching her intently. She was not surprised. They were both very much attuned to one another, so it was no shock that he had intuited what was occurring. “I think my labours have begun,” Elizabeth stated simply.

Hertfordshire removed his wife’s feet from his thighs and gently placed them on the surface of the chaise longue. He signalled the footman waiting at the door. “It is time,” was all he had to say.

The footman first went to inform the midwife and accoucheur.

Next, he spoke to Mrs Greaves, who made sure to notify all of the ladies who would attend Her Grace.

Then she went to supervise the maids who would be waiting with clean towels, sheets, or anything else which was needed.

Within moments of the Duke’s words, the house was a hive of activity.

Both Sir Frederick and Mrs Medford, the midwife, agreed that having hot water available when they needed it simply by opening a faucet in the bathing room was a boon to their needs.

Both of them believed in the highest standards of cleanliness.

“Come, my Lizzy.” Hertfordshire extended his hand. He was outwardly calm knowing how important it was for his wife to see that, but his insides were roiling as he thought of all of the things which could go wrong. “Are you able to walk, or may I have the pleasure of carrying you in my arms?”

“Thank you for being so solicitous of my needs, you darling…maaaan.” The strongest pain so far hit her at that moment. “I will walk. I remember Sir Frederick telling me exercise when labouring can be advantageous.”

As much as he hated seeing the clear evidence of his wife in pain, Hertfordshire schooled his features and escorted his wife to the birthing chamber.

He guided her into the room just in time for another pain to wrack his Elizabeth’s body.

He was well pleased to see the accoucheur, one of his nurses, and the midwife already waiting for his wife to arrive.

The ladies who were to support her filed in shortly after them.

“Archy, this is not a place for men,” Leticia told her brother. “You know the first time can be many hours, so go back to the library, and one of us will update you accordingly. We will take good care of Lizzy, I swear to you.”

Hertfordshire looked at his wife questioningly. She was the only one who could send him from the room.

“Is Sir Frederick not a man?” Elizabeth demanded.

She continued before anyone could retort.

“I will not do this without Archy with me. He will remain as long as he desires to be here. We are partners. We do everything together , and this will be no…difffferent.” The strongest pain so far had just moved through her body.

Mrs Medford looked like she was about to protest, but the accoucheur shook his head, and the midwife bit back the words she had intended to say.

A few hours later, after darkness had descended on the world, Archy was sitting next to Elizabeth, holding her hand. Each time a pain wracked her body—they were less than ten minutes apart now—she squeezed his hand for all she was worth, and never once had he uttered a word of complaint.

Charlotte was with her now, dabbing her forehead with a cool cloth.

The ladies were taking turns. They would be with Elizabeth for about an hour before the next lady arrived to assist. Sir Frederick was in and out of the birthing chamber, but his nurse and the midwife would only leave briefly if they needed to relieve themselves.

The pains had steadily increased in intensity, and as she lay on the bed waiting for the next pain to begin, Elizabeth was thanking God for sending her such a wonderful husband.

A little after eleven at night, the accoucheur examined Her Grace.

“I recommend you walk outside in the hallway. It has been about six hours now, which for a first delivery is not out of the ordinary, so I believe it will do your body good to exercise for a while. If it feels too uncomfortable to walk, or your waters break, please return to the birthing chamber forthwith,” Sir Frederick instructed.

“A walk sounds…woooondderfuuul!” Elizabeth managed just as a pain hit.

Hertfordshire assisted his wife into a sitting position, placed her night slippers onto her swollen feet, and then supported her as she stood shakily.

Lady Anne was with them at that point, so she took Lizzy’s other arm, and the three began a slow walk back and forth along the long hallway outside the birthing chamber.

“Walking eases the pressure on my back,” Elizabeth said just as the clock struck the twelfth bell. It was the twentieth day of March.

“It pleases me that it assists you. How frequent are the pains now?” Hertfordshire enquired. “I have seen you wincing much more since we have been walking.”

“My estimate is every three to five minutes…oh my, I had an accident.” Elizabeth looked at the liquid pooling beneath her.

“Those are your waters, Lizzy,” Lady Anne corrected.

“We need to return to the birthing chamber.” Hertfordshire did not wait for his wife to agree.

He bent down and scooped her into his arms like she was nothing.

Rather than complain, Lizzy snaked her arms around his neck and tucked her head in below his chin.

“The waters,” was all he said when he strode into the chamber.

Mrs Greaves and Lettie quickly changed Her Grace into a dry night rail. Shortly thereafter, she was seated in the birthing chair.

“Archy,” she moaned plaintively as the worst pain yet struck her.

Hertfordshire took his beloved’s right hand. “I am here, my love; you cannot see me because I am standing where I will not be in the way. By my word of honour, I will not leave you, even if in your distress, you send me away.”

Sir Frederick examined Her Grace, and then Mrs Medford did so as well. “We agree,” the accoucheur reported, “it will be time to push soon.”

“ I WANT THIS OUT OF MEEE !” Elizabeth screamed as wave after wave of pain devastated her body. “You did this to me!” Elizabeth screeched and immediately looked contrite. “I am so sorry Archy; I know not…get it out now!”

“It is time, Your Grace. With the next pain, push, push for all you are worth, and do it with each pain until I tell you to stop,” Mrs Medford commanded.

“I cannot; it is too hard…” Elizabeth whimpered.

“My brave, strong Lizzy can do anything she desires. You, my darling wife, are the strongest woman I have ever met. Now, my love, now!” Hertfordshire urged his wife when the midwife nodded.

She gave three huge pushes. “I cannot anymore,” Elizabeth claimed.

“Yes, you can, and will, Your Grace. I can see the head now; push for all you are worth,” Mrs Medford urged.

Elizabeth felt tremendous pressure, and all of a sudden there was a release, and as the squalling of a newborn babe was heard, she fell back into the birthing chair.

Archy was still holding her hand as the midwife and the accoucheur’s nurse took the babe to clean it off.

The new parents still did not know if they had been blessed with a son or daughter.

Mrs Medford returned to her and began to push on Elizabeth’s belly until she felt another release. She knew from her reading the afterbirth had been delivered.

No sooner had that occurred than Elizabeth was assisted from the chair by Archy, Charlotte, and Leticia.

With impressive speed, Lettie and another maid had her changed into a fresh nightrail, and Archy guided her to the bed.

Elizabeth was covered up to her chest by the coverlet and seated against some pillows, and her Archy had still not left her side, not even to see what the sex of their child was.

As soon as Lizzy was comfortable, Lady Elaine, flanked by Loretta and Margorie, approached the bed. The Countess had a swaddled babe in her arms, and all that the new parents could see was a shock of dark hair above the swaddling.

“Would you two like to meet your son?” Lady Elaine asked with a face-splitting smile on her countenance.

Elizabeth had the grace not to give her husband an ‘I told you so’ look.

She held out her hands, and the sleeping babe was gently lowered into her arms. He squirmed a little, his little lips sucked furiously, and soon he settled again.

“Welcome to the family, Matthew Archibald Winston Chamberlain.” They had decided on the names for a son and a daughter about a month previously.

“With his birth, we have one title again because you hold the new Marquess of Hertford in your arms; you did so well, my Lizzy.” Hertfordshire bent down to kiss his wife.

It was a signal for the rest of those in the birthing chamber to allow the new parents their privacy.

“He has your hair, my love,” Hertfordshire said as he gently brushed his fingers over the downy-soft hair on his son’s head.

He thought about Anthony and his being displaced as his heir apparent.

He was fully aware that his nephew would be happy for Lizzy and him, and there would be no rancour or resentment.

As they sat and admired the ‘most beautiful babe in the world’, their son scrunched up his face and let out a howl indicating his need for sustenance.

Elizabeth had agreed to a wet nurse for the night feedings, but she intended to feed her son as much as possible.

With a little help from Archy, she positioned Matthew at her breast, and he was soon drinking hungrily.

When their son was sated, Elizabeth handed him to his father, who gently patted his back until the babe emitted a healthy belch. Knowing she needed rest, Elizabeth reluctantly allowed Matthew to be taken by one of the half dozen nursemaids they had employed. She needed to sleep.

Soon she was asleep in her beloved husband’s arms, and not many minutes later, he too allowed Morpheus to claim him.