Chapter 38

Chapter Thirty-Eight

A s the time for Elizabeth’s confinement drew nearer, Darcy grew increasingly anxious about the impending birth. He had taken to hovering near her at every moment, aided by many of Pemberley’s servants, who felt it was their duty to remain close to the mistress during this crucial time.

Winters in Derbyshire were not always kind, and this particular year brought a relentless series of biting cold days and snowfall that blanketed the estate in a thick layer of white. The winds frequently howled, rattling the windows of Pemberley, and the unpredictable weather only heightened Darcy’s nerves. He worried not only for Elizabeth’s well-being but also for the safety of their child.

The weather compounded Elizabeth’s discomfort as well; she had quickly adapted to country life and relished spending time outdoors. However, the current conditions made this nearly impossible, and her daily walks—essential for alleviating her discomfort—became increasingly difficult to manage.

“Are you certain you are comfortable, my love?” Darcy asked one evening, his voice laced with concern as he adjusted the blankets around Elizabeth, who was seated by the fire. She looked radiant, her cheeks flushed with warmth, but he could still see the signs of fatigue etched on her face.

Elizabeth smiled reassuringly, though she could sense his growing agitation. “I am quite well, William. I promise you, I have been in worse discomfort. The fire is warm, and I am enjoying your company.”

Darcy frowned, unconvinced. “But what if the baby arrives tonight? I cannot bear the thought of you enduring any hardship. Perhaps we should summon the midwife to check on you, just to be safe.”

Elizabeth chuckled lightly, amused by his overprotectiveness. “You would have her at my side every hour of the day if you could, would you not? It is only a few more days, I assure you. You need not worry so. I shall tell you immediately if I feel any changes.”

He shook his head, determined not to relent. “I cannot help but worry. You mean everything to me, and the thought of anything going amiss is unbearable. You deserve all the care and comfort I can provide.”

“William, I appreciate your concern, truly. But I have faith that all will go well. Our child will arrive when it is ready, and we must trust in that,” she said, patting his hand.

Darcy’s expression softened at her words, though he could not entirely quell the unease that coiled in his chest. “You are far more courageous than I, Elizabeth. I wish I possessed your strength. All I can do is stand by your side and hope for the best.”

“Your love is my strength,” she replied, reaching for his hand and intertwining their fingers. “We shall face this together, just as we have faced everything else.”

As the days passed, the anticipation in the household grew palpable. Servants moved about with purpose, preparing the guest chamber for the arrival of the midwife and ensuring that all was ready for the birth. As the end of Elizabeth’s confinement drew closer, Darcy had implored the midwife to stay at Pemberley, adding another set of watchful eyes to ensure Elizabeth’s care and comfort.

Elizabeth remained composed, but even she could not deny the flutter of nerves she often felt. She wished her Aunt Gardiner could have been with her, but it was far too difficult to travel all this way.

Late one evening, a sudden storm swept through the area surrounding Pemberley, the wind howling fiercely as thick, swirling gusts of snow fell outside. Elizabeth lay in bed, wrapped in blankets, her heart racing as she sensed that the moment she had been waiting for was drawing near. She glanced at Darcy, who was finally sleeping soundly after a night of fretting when she had grimaced in response to a pain.

“Fitzwilliam, wake up,” she urged, her voice steady despite the whirlwind outside. “It is time to fetch the midwife.”

Though it took a moment, Darcy slowly came to consciousness. “What … what did you say?”

Elizabeth felt a wave of discomfort wash over her. She inhaled sharply, her eyes widening as she clutched her belly. “You need to fetch the midwife and Mrs. Reynolds. I believe it is my time,” she said, her voice steady yet laced with urgency.

Darcy shot upright in bed, instantly alert. “What do you mean it is your time?” he asked, his brow furrowed with concern. “Are you certain?”

“Yes, Fitzwilliam, I am certain,” she replied, forcing herself to remain calm despite the tightening sensation. “The contractions have begun. I need you to act quickly.”

He scrambled from the bed, throwing on some clothes in haste, his hands trembling with a mix of anxiety and determination. “I will be back in a moment. Just stay here and breathe. I will not be long. ”

As he rushed out of the room, Elizabeth took a deep breath, trying to quell the rising tide of discomfort. She focused on the flickering candlelight, its warmth a small comfort against the storm raging outside. She could hear the wind howling, echoing her own nervous anticipation.

A moment later, Darcy returned, his face pale but resolute. “Help is on the way, Elizabeth. And I am here. I will stay by your side if you wish it. You do not have to go through this alone.”

“I want you to stay with me if you can stand it,” she replied gently, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “And I need you to breathe with me. We cannot have you passing out and becoming one of the patients.”

As another wave of discomfort washed over her, she squeezed her eyes shut, breathing through it. Darcy moved closer, taking her hand and holding it firmly, her pain appearing to give him strength. “You are incredibly strong, Elizabeth. We will get through this together.”

She nodded, finding strength in his words. “I know. I have faith that we all will be well.”

Just then, the door opened, and the midwife entered, her face a picture of calm amidst the chaos. “Mrs. Darcy, I am here,” she announced, her voice soothing. “Let us prepare for the arrival of your little one. Mr. Darcy, I must ask you to leave.”

“No,” he replied, “Elizabeth wishes me to stay with her.”

“You can return after we have her settled,” the midwife replied. “There are several things we need to do to prepare Mrs. Darcy for the birth, including moving her into the birthing chamber. Let us do what we need to and then you rejoin your wife.”

Reluctantly, Darcy moved to do as he was asked, but only after receiving a patient smile from Elizabeth. He stepped out into the dimly lit hallway, taking a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling within him. He leaned against the wall, straining to hear any sounds from the room, praying for Elizabeth’s safety .

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a servant came out into the hallway from the mistress’s chamber. “Mr. Darcy, you may come back in now.”

Darcy entered the room and went directly to his wife’s side. Her face was glowing although she was clearly weary. The midwife and other servants worked efficiently at the foot of the bed, arranging the necessary items, while Elizabeth’s breathing quickened with each contraction.

“Elizabeth,” Darcy whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her forehead. “You are doing so wonderfully.”

As another wave of discomfort washed over her, Elizabeth gripped his hand tightly, her nails digging into his palm. The midwife’s voice was calm as she said, “Just a little longer, Mrs. Darcy. You are almost there. Focus on your breathing.”

Darcy watched as Elizabeth breathed through the pain, her brow furrowing. “William, I—” she began, but another contraction hit, cutting off her words. She closed her eyes, trying to push through the discomfort. He squeezed her hand, attempting to reassure her.

Minutes passed like an eternity. Soon, the midwife guided Elizabeth through the final steps of childbirth, and they heard her announce, “Congratulations, you have a son.”

Tears of joy sparkled in Elizabeth’s eyes as she cradled the tiny, squirming bundle against her chest. “William Edward,” she whispered, her voice filled with love.

Darcy leaned closer, overwhelmed by the sight of his wife and their newborn son. “He is perfect,” he murmured, emotion thick in his voice. “Just like his mother.”

Elizabeth smiled, her exhaustion forgotten as she looked down at their child. “Look at him, Fitzwilliam. He is the best part of both of us. ”

“Yes, he is,” Darcy replied, his heart swelling with pride.

Once Elizabeth was helped into clean clothing and settled back into her chambers, the maid returned, cradling the now washed and swaddled babe. “Here you are, Mrs. Darcy,” she said, her eyes sparkling with warmth.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth replied, her voice barely above a whisper as she reached for her son.

Darcy joined her on the bed, his heart racing as he took in the sight of his wife holding their child. Elizabeth's face lit up as she cradled little William against her chest, and Darcy could not help but smile at the beautiful scene before him.

“Can you believe he is ours?” Elizabeth asked, her eyes shimmering with wonder.

“I can hardly comprehend it,” Darcy replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. “He is everything we have ever hoped for and more.”

Elizabeth looked down at William, her expression softening. “He is so small and fragile,” she murmured. “I want to protect him from everything.”

Darcy nodded, understanding her sentiment. “We will do everything in our power to keep him safe. He is our greatest responsibility now.”

Following her conversation with Mrs. Allen, Jane wrote to her sister to apologise for her previous attitude, acknowledging the insights she had gained in the weeks since their last exchange. This letter led to a thawing of relations between Jane and Elizabeth, bridging the gap that had formed between them. Jane was overjoyed to learn that Elizabeth had given birth to her son, William Edward Darcy, just a few days before Christmas .

Elizabeth congratulated her elder sister on her courtship with Mr. Collins and expressed her delight that the two would likely marry the following summer. Despite the invitation to attend Jane’s wedding, whenever it might occur, Elizabeth had to decline. With a newborn to care for, the Darcys had no intention of travelling to London until after William’s first birthday. The thought of navigating the bustling city with a young child seemed daunting, and Elizabeth wished to create a serene environment at Pemberley for their son’s first year.

However, in a gesture of goodwill, Elizabeth extended an invitation for Jane and Mr. Collins to visit Pemberley in the autumn. Elizabeth hoped it would be a delightful opportunity for their families to bond, and she was eager to introduce her son to his aunt. Jane, touched by the invitation, promised to discuss it with Mr. Collins, but since their future together was still uncertain, she neither accepted nor declined the offer.

As the days passed, Elizabeth embraced her new role as a mother, cherishing every moment with her son. The winter season brought its own magic to Pemberley, with snow blanketing the grounds, and the warm glow of the hearth filling the house with a comforting light. Elizabeth would often find herself gazing out the window, dreaming of the adventures that awaited William in the years to come.

In her letters to Jane, she shared stories of the baby’s milestones—the first time he smiled, the way he cooed when she sang to him, and how Darcy could spend hours simply watching their son, his heart full of love and pride. Elizabeth’s joy was infectious, and Jane found herself swept up in her sister's happiness, longing to hold her nephew and share in the laughter that echoed through Pemberley’s halls.

While the invitation to Pemberley remained an open promise, Elizabeth felt assured that no matter the distance or the time apart, the bond between sisters would continue to strengthen. Their hearts were woven together by love and shared experiences, each anticipating the moments that would unite their families in the future.