“Did i see Lady Catherine leaving my brother’s study?” Georgiana asked Edward when she cornered him in the upper hall.
Edward’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, Her Ladyship sought me out as I used Fitz’s desk to write and frank my letter to the Earl and my report to the general.”
Georgiana frowned back. “May I ask Her Ladyship’s purpose? I worry our aunt intends some mischief.”
“I cannot speak to Lady Catherine’s Pemberley mission. I’ve spoken to her firmly regarding her family responsibility, but no one can hope to know Her Ladyship’s frame of mind.” Edward sighed in exasperation. “That wasn’t our aunt’s objective today,” he continued. “Today, Lady Catherine expressed her concern regarding your presentation.”
“You’ve been on English soil for less than six and thirty hours, and our aunt bothers you with such details,” Georgiana said incredulously. “Sometimes…” she groaned.
Edward caressed her cheek. “Sometimes what, Love?”
“Sometimes, I wish people would allow me to choose my own future.” Georgiana resisted the urge to stomp her foot in frustration. “At the moment, I wish Lady Catherine had never come to Derby for the festive days.”
Edward scowled deeply. “I wouldn’t have you upset, Georgie. I’ve informed Her Ladyship that Darcy will address your needs when the time proves necessary. Either Mrs. Darcy or my mother will serve as your sponsor.”
She knew she should express her gratitude for his advocacy, but Georgiana had never wanted a Season. She wanted the man standing before her. Tears misted her eyes. “I thank you for your attempt to stifle our aunt’s maneuverings.”
“Then how have I unhinged your composure?” Edward pressed, his mouth’s corners turned down. “Tell me what you truly want, Georgiana. Whatever it is, I’ll move the heavens to make it so.”
She gave him a chagrined smile. “If anyone could fulfill my dreams, it would be you; but I’m no longer a little girl. A new doll shan’t satisfy me.” She gave herself a good firm shake. Impulsively, Georgiana rose on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I came to offer my gratitude for your arrangements for the skating party. It’ll be a grand entertainment.” With that, Georgiana scurried away, making a point of adding a sway to her hips. After all, Edward was watching.
Elizabeth briefly closed her eyes and brought forth her husband’s image. “You may question my intelligence when I tell you that it took Mr. Darcy some six months to make inroads into my prejudice against him.” As she spoke, Elizabeth kept an eye on the mantel’s clock. Spotting the curious rise of Mary’s eyebrow, Elizabeth nodded. “It’s true: I tried desperately to dislike the man.”
“A man of Mr. Darcy’s consequence?” Mr. Joseph asked as he adjusted his wife’s position.
“Oh, quite so,” Elizabeth said playfully. “My father’s a gentleman; I’m a gentleman’s daughter; in that respect, Mr. Darcy and I are equals. But where the late Lady Anne Darcy was an Earl’s youngest child, my maternal aunts and uncles are country lawyers and clergymen. Our consequence is quite below that of Mr. Darcy’s family, and I allowed my own insecurities to blind me to my husband’s goodness. In those early days, with conceit, I thought my judgment impeccable.” Elizabeth paused to observe Mary’s reaction to her latest contractions.
“Go on,” the woman gasped and clung tightly to her husband’s hand. “Tell us more.”
Elizabeth bit her bottom lip and went through a mental list of what to expect next. She tried to remember all the details of Jane’s delivery. “I shan’t bore you with the specifics of our coming together,” she began before adjusting Mary’s position again. “Let’s say there was a great deal of drama, as well as some laughable moments.” Elizabeth continued her recitation to distract Mary from the current situation’s dire possibilities. “But you didn’t ask how we found each other. You asked how I knew that Mr. Darcy owned my heart. It was my husband’s sense of honor that solidified my admiration.”
“I would expect nothing less,” Joseph said breathily as his wife jabbed him in the ribs.
Elizabeth thought this the most bizarre conversation of her memory, but she did not hesitate to keep it going. “Please don’t confuse honor with respect. Respect is given because we like a person, and we can withhold it from someone who displeases us, but that’s not what the Bible teaches us of honor.”
“Honor thy mother and thy father,” Mr. Joseph stated.
“Exactly,” Elizabeth declared. “That’s how I knew Mr. Darcy would be a wonderful husband and father. I witnessed how my dear Fitzwilliam has devoted his life to honoring his own parents.” She shot a quick glance toward the room’s door. She had no doubt that Darcy remained outside in the darkened hallway. He considered it his province to protect those he loved. “And Mr. Darcy has served as his sister’s guardian for the last eight years. Miss Darcy blossoms under her brother’s administrations.You should hear him praise Georgiana’s potential.”
Mary grimaced, but she managed to say, “Honor has a… a language all its own.”
They all paused to allow Mary to work her way through another spasm. “That’s good, Mary,” Elizabeth encouraged. She handed Mr. Joseph a damp cloth to wipe his wife’s face. With everything settled again, Elizabeth returned to her story. Everything was coming together. From the beginning, she had found Mary to be a woman who loved a good tale. That’s why Elizabeth had asked her husband to read to the woman earlier. During that time, Mrs. Joseph had progressed through the stages of her delivery in a relaxed atmosphere. Now, this discussion on honor served the same purpose. Instead of fighting the pain, Mary embraced it. Elizabeth actually began to believe that together they would see this child to a healthy entrance.
“When Mr. Darcy speaks, my husband speaks honorably. His servants and his tenants accept the honor he freely gives them, and they respond with a sincere desire to help Mr. Darcy achieve his vision. My husband is the type of man who speaks with a person rather than to him, and when he speaks of someone of his acquaintance, he does so to the person’s face. Therefore, those who know him serve Mr. Darcy with passion.”
“Honor is God’s greatest gift,” Mr. Joseph observed.
“Honor elevates,” Elizabeth whispered as she turned her gaze toward the door. “It speaks with affection.”
“Lieutenant, do you have a moment?” The colonel had found his aide in the billiards room playing a solitary game.
The officer had come to attention. “I’m at your service, Sir.”
“No need for military protocol, Southland.” Edward chose a cue stick from those displayed. “How about a game?”
“Of course, Sir.” The lieutenant gathered the balls and placed them in the rack. “Have I done something to displease you, Sir? Your expression says you’re troubled.”
Edward laughed uncomfortably. “I’m not a man who easily expresses his chagrin.” He chalked his stick. Taking a deep breath to steady his strike and his resolve, he said, “I came to apologize for my earlier remarks.” The balls scattered to the table’s four corners, and Edward moved to line up his second shot.
“There’s no need, Colonel.” Southland waited patiently for his commanding officer to miss. “You spoke from regard for your family. I cannot fault that notion. I should’ve practiced more restraint. Call it my overwhelming joy at being home again. There was nothing about America that I found comfortable: not the society, and not the conflict. I’ve thought of England and Lewes every day for over a year; then we arrived in Liverpool, and within hours I was speaking to someone who held similar experiences. It’s a poor excuse, Colonel, and I’ll refrain from anything beyond polite conversation with Miss De Bourgh.”
Edward finished his third shot. “So you don’t find my cousin attractive?” he asked tentatively.
The lieutenant leaned against the wall. “That’s a loaded question, Colonel.” His voice held his suspicion. “If I say that Miss De Bourgh offers no allure, you’ll wonder how a man could fail to see your cousin’s merits. And if I speak openly of Miss De Bourgh’s appeal, then you’ll choose another reprimand.”
Edward straightened and took a close look at his subordinate. “You have good reason to be cautious, Southland. I’m unsure of my own motives.” The colonel paused to gather his thoughts. “I’d take it as a personal offense if someone trifled with Anne’s affections, but a part of me would like to see my cousin know a flirtation’s pleasure. However, a person participating in such a dalliance must be aware that my aunt has denied Anne many of the events in which my cousin could develop into a sophisticated young woman. Does any of this make sense, Lieutenant?”
Southland stepped away from the wall. “Admittedly, Sir, your message is garbled. It appears you’re extending your permission for me to further a relationship with Miss De Bourgh.”
“But I’m not encouraging you to give Anne false hopes,” Edward clarified. “I’ll be brutally honest, Southland. Anne is of a gentle nature, and I suspect she’ll take the slightest of attentions as a serious plight, which means my cousin is very susceptible to heartbreak. Therefore, although I truly believe Anne needs to know a man’s regard, I wouldn’t wish her to suffer. My feelings in this matter are mixed.”
The lieutenant placed his stick on the table. “I’d enjoy the opportunity to know Miss De Bourgh better.” His gaze met Edward’s. “You do realize, Sir, that I’ve no title and no profession beyond my service to my country.”
“I understand perfectly, Southland.” Edward squeezed the man’s shoulder. “You must decide whether to pursue the connection. It’ll not affect our relationship unless you purposely hurt Anne.”
“Mr. Bennet, might I request a few moments of your time?” Winkler asked as the guests gathered for afternoon tea. When Mr. Bennet’s eyebrow rose in curiosity, Winkler quickly added, “Privately.”
Mr. Bennet nodded his agreement. “This way, Winkler.” He led the clergyman across the hall. “Will this do?” They had stepped into an empty drawing room.
The man glanced about nervously. “Yes, thank you, Sir.” He paused awkwardly. “Perhaps we might sit.”
“Of course.” Mr. Bennet led the way to a cluster of chairs. Once they settled themselves comfortably, Bennet asked, “What might I do for you, young man?”
Winkler nervously cleared his throat. “I wished to speak to you, Sir, regarding your daughter Catherine. Miss Catherine and I have become acquainted over the past two years; with each of her Pemberley visits, I’ve found my affections for your daughter have increased. I’d like your permission, Sir, to court Miss Catherine with the hopes of making her my wife.”
“You hold a tendre for Kitty?” Mr. Bennet asked with amusement.
“Yes, Sir.”
“You will excuse my surprise, Mr. Winkler. Although Kitty has her merits, I have never considered her as a woman who might engender the regard of a sensible young man. I mean, your wife must have additional responsibilities beyond her role as mistress of your household.”
“She would,” Winkler acknowledged.
Mr. Bennet shook his head in disbelief. “It wasn’t so long ago that Mrs. Bennet allowed Kitty and my youngest Lydia to be given up to nothing but amusement and vanity. My wife permitted our daughters to dispose of their time in the most idle and frivolous manner and to adopt any opinions that came their way. Love, flirtation, and officers filled their heads.”
Mr. Winkler frowned. “But was that before any of your daughters married? If I recall, Mrs. Wickham took her vows over two years ago.”
Mr. Bennet laughed lightly. “I suppose it was. At Longbourn, it seems we’re always preparing for a wedding. The time goes too quickly for an old man.”
Winkler smiled at last. “My father refuses to realize that my sister is two and twenty. To him, Rose is a willowy girl of twelve.”
Mr. Bennet sat back into his chair. “Then I must reconsider how I see Kitty,” he said easily. “It’ll be an effort, but I’m willing to broaden my opinions.”
Winkler appeared confused by Mr. Bennet’s witticism. “I’m certain that Miss Catherine would easily fill the role of wife.”
“I need no convincing, Winkler,” Mr. Bennet said. “I concede my earlier error.”
Again, Winkler was flustered. “I have… I’ve spoken to Miss Catherine, and we’ve agreed to a time when I might court her. This will allow Miss Catherine time to observe what will be required of her as my wife. I’ve plans to educate the village children and wish to organize a charity for our elderly. I’d expect your daughter to embrace those initiatives and add her own special insights. Of course, I wish to speak to Mr. Darcy also.As Mrs. Darcy’s sister, Miss Catherine could hold great sway in the neighborhood.”
“It would appear that you’ve thought this through thoroughly. Mrs. Bennet and I would like to see Kitty well settled, and having her close to Jane and Elizabeth would be to Kitty’s advantage. I’ve no objection to your suit, Winkler. It’ll please Mrs. Bennet, as well.”
“We would wait for Mr. Darcy’s approval before announcing our understanding,” Winkler said.
“Then I’ll refrain from informing Mrs. Bennet of this fortuitous event. My wife dotes on her daughters’ successes,” Mr. Bennet said in renewed amusement.
Mr. Winkler stood and extended his hand. “Thank you, Sir. Perhaps we might carve out time during your stay to speak of possible marriage settlements. With your permission I’d ask for Mr. Darcy’s participation in that interview. He prefers to be made aware of anything affecting his position as Pemberley’s master, and he’s my patron.”
“Count yourself lucky, Sir, that the great man’s aunt is not the one from whom you must seek favor.”
“Miss Darcy and I have made arrangements for our Christmastide celebrations in lieu of Mr. Darcy’s presence,” Edward explained to the group gathered for afternoon tea. “Of course, we’ll join Mr. Winkler for services, and then return to Pemberley for an abundant meal. Knowing Mr. Darcy, there’ll be plenty of wassail and appropriate trinkets.”
“How about the Christmas pudding?” Mrs. Bennet asked.
“Elizabeth, Mrs. Reynolds, and I spent much of the Stir Up Sunday creating Mrs. Oliver’s special recipe,” Georgiana explained.
Kitty enjoyed a party, so she added, “Shall there be snapdragon and charades?”
“Between now and Twelfth Night, there’ll be plenty of games and music,” Edward assured.
“Roast goose?” Mr. Bennet asked.
“Absolutely,” Georgiana said. “And if anyone has a special request, I’ll ask Mrs. Oliver to do her best to meet it.”
Mr. Manneville chuckled. “Even very American delicacies, Miss Darcy?” he taunted.
“Within reason, Mr. Manneville,” Georgiana said tartly.
Edward added, “Tomorrow, we should be able to skate, and on Christmas Eve, we’ll hang the holly and other greenery.”
Georgiana left her position near the open door and joined Edward before the hearth. She slid her hand into the crook of his arm, and Edward automatically cupped her hand with his free one. “Of course, the Tenants’ Ball is set for Boxing Day. My brother and Mrs. Darcy shall entertain his cottagers and many from the village. It’s great fun — very much like a country assembly,” Georgiana declared.
“Without even the possibility of the local gentry,” Lady Catherine grumbled.
“Very true, Aunt,” Edward interrupted her possible tirade. “But that’s what makes the Pemberley Tenants’ Ball so enjoyable. No one has to worry about the ton’s arbitrary rules. A young man can show his intended his attentions without the two-set rule coming into play.”
Lady Catherine scowled, “Commonness.”
Tightening her hold on Edward’s arm, Georgiana clarified, “It’s not necessary that you make an appearance. Although Fitzwilliam would welcome your presence, there’ll be plenty of food and entertainment at the main house. However, your attendance would bring my brother a great honor in his tenants’ eyes.”
“The Bennets will be happy to partake of Mr. Darcy’s hospitality,” Mr. Bennet declared.
“As will the Bingleys,” Charles announced.
“I’d like to attend,” Anne’s quiet voice stayed the room.
“You most certainly shall not!” Lady Catherine roared. “Who shall protect you from the riff-raff?”
Edward smiled secretly. “If that’s your worry, Your Ladyship, I’ll ask Lieutenant Southland to escort Anne. You wouldn’t mind, would you, Lieutenant?”
Southland bowed to Anne. “It would be my honor, Miss De Bourgh.”
“See, Aunt, that was easy to resolve. The lieutenant will guard Anne from ordinary connections,” Edward said cynically.
“Everyone is welcome, but no one must decide tonight,” Georgiana said judiciously. “What the colonel and I wish to convey is the Darcys’ wish for an enjoyable Christmastide.”
“I didn’t hear you express an opinion of Mr. Darcy’s Tenants’ Ball, Miss Bingley.” Everyone had dispersed to late afternoon activities; Manneville had joined Caroline on a settee opposite the hearth.
“I thought you’d joined the lieutenant, Mr. Manneville.” Caroline said in feigned indifference.
“I begged a reprieve from the cold,” he confessed. “And you didn’t answer my query. That seems to be a pattern,” he teased. “Do you hold no interest in Mr. Darcy’s Tenants’ celebration?”
Miss Bingley shook her head. “It’s not my preference, but I’m sure my brother and Mrs. Bingley shall insist that we participate; therefore, I’ll be committed to make an appearance.”
“Why is the event repugnant?” Manneville probed.
Her brow lowered in a frown. “I don’t know how to explain without sounding extremely prejudiced.” Miss Bingley paused briefly. “And, of course, I don’t know why I might choose to share such intimate thoughts with you, Sir.”
“Maybe because you know that I’ll not judge you,” Manneville said quietly. “We Americans see issues differently from our British counterparts.”
As if embarrassed, Miss Bingley shifted. “You must understand, Sir, that my father sacrificed much to build his fortune — the fortune Charles inherited. He worked countless hours and dealt with scrupulous as well as unscrupulous clients, all to give his wife and children a better life. There was a time when all any of us could hope for was to live on Society’s fringe. All our wealth could not open doors, but slowly that has changed.
“To aid our transitions, my father sent Charles to university and my sister and me to a private seminary in London. We learned to associate with people of rank. It may sound petty, but to attend Tenants’ celebrations and to associate with those of lesser connections seems a betrayal to all my father wished for us.”
Manneville maintained his teasing tone. “I’m thankful to hear your explanation, Miss Bingley. I feared that jealousy precipitated your objections.”
“Jealousy!” she gasped. “To whom would I direct my disdain?”
“I’d heard,” Manneville said softly, “that you’d once set your sights on Mr. Darcy.”
She demanded, “Who speaks of my private life?”
Manneville chuckled. “Mrs. Bennet is only too happy to elevate her daughters’ virtues at the expense of others.”
“Vile, disgusting woman,” Caroline growled.
“Yes,” Manneville said, “the good lady regaled me with tales of your deceit in matters most personal — of your separating the former Miss Bennet from your brother and of your unsuccessful manipulations to land our host.”
Caroline turned red with anger. “That old tabby,” she spit out the words. “With such apparent connections, could anyone criticize me for dividing Charles from Miss Bennet?”
Manneville scoffed. “Then you don’t deny the rumors, Miss Bingley?”
Realizing she’d said too much, Caroline calmed her expression. With a deep sigh of exasperation, she confessed, “I have no wish of denying that I attempted to separate my brother from Miss Bennet. My only regret is that Charles spent several months suffering from disappointed hopes. I never wanted that for him.” She raised her chin in defiance.
Manneville tilted his head back and laughed soundly. “Good for you, Miss Bingley. I admire a plucky woman — one who knows what she wants and is willing to do whatever is necessary to achieve it. Too many women bemoan their fates.”
Obviously shocked by his response, Caroline stammered, “But I was… I was unsuccessful… unsuccessful in both cases.”
“We know disappointments,” he said as he stood and extended his hand. “What I want to know, Miss Bingley, is whether you’re the type of person who can focus her energies elsewhere and earn different fortunes.” He held her gaze for a few seconds before adding, “I thought I might take in the splendor of Mr. Darcy’s conservatory. Would you care to join me?”
She slid her hand into his. Manneville helped her to her feet. “Different fortunes? Of what type of fortunes do we speak, Sir?” She hooked her arm through his.
“Not houses or land or tenants,” he said as they strolled toward the door. “Connections and manipulations. Those are the real assets.”
“Lieutenant,” Mrs. Jenkinson said as she stepped up behind him. “May we speak privately?”
“Of course, Ma’am.” He glanced about the open foyer. “Why do we not step into the music room? At this time of day, the ladies are likely finished with their lessons.”
Mrs. Jenkinson gave a curt nod and turned toward the room. Southland watched her go before removing his outer garments. He’d just returned to the main house after adding a few inches of water to the ice pond. The cold had seeped into his bones, and he desperately needed a drink, but the lieutenant would speak to Miss De Bourgh’s companion first. All through the afternoon, he had recalled the colonel’s conversation, as well as the easy machination of his commanding officer. It seemed so perfect that Roman suspected a gambit. He’d considered Rosings Park and the De Bourgh family his own personal Holy Grail, and now that the proverbial carrot dangled before his eyes, he could see all too clearly how faded were reality’s edges: The De Bourghs did not lead an ideal life. Handing the Pemberley butler his gloves, Roman followed the matronly Mrs. Jenkinson toward the empty room.
Entering the well-appointed room, Roman walked leisurely toward the hearth. His instinct told him that Lady Catherine had sent her servant to warn him away from her daughter. Warming himself by the dying fire, he turned to the waiting gentlewoman. “How might I serve you, Mrs. Jenkinson? I hope your appearance doesn’t indicate that Miss De Bourgh is feeling poorly.”
Mrs. Jenkinson sat primly in her chair, but Southland noted her nervousness. “Miss De Bourgh is quite well, Lieutenant,” she said tentatively.
“I’m pleased to hear it, Ma’am.” Southland casually propped his forearm on the mantel. “I suppose we should proceed straight to the crux of what you were sent to say to me: Her Ladyship wishes me to stay away from Miss De Bourgh. Am I correct, Ma’am?”
Mrs. Jenkinson blustered. “I’ve no… no knowledge of Lady Catherine’s disapproval, Lieutenant. I… I wished to speak to you of my own accord.”
“Your own accord, Ma’am? I fear I don’t understand.” Southland abandoned his attempt at indifference. He came to sit beside the woman.
“I’ve but a few minutes before I must return to my duties,” the lady said. “Therefore, I pray you’ll forgive my abruptness.” Mrs. Jenkinson nervously ran a handkerchief through her fingers.
“I’m accustomed to plain speaking, Ma’am,” he assured her.
The lady swallowed hard and then brought her gaze to meet his. “I’ve served as Miss De Bourgh’s companion for more than a dozen years. She’s as dear to me as my own daughter.” She paused briefly. “Therefore, I wish to protect her from those who would practice a deception.”
“And you think me a bounder?”
Again, Mrs. Jenkinson’s back stiffened. “I don’t wish to make assumptions, Lieutenant, but your recent attention to Miss De Bourgh hasn’t gone unnoticed.”
“I’m well aware of Colonel Fitzwilliam’s initial objection to my conversations with his cousin, but he’s assured me that he’s withdrawn his opposition. Has the colonel returned to his earlier estimation?” Southland, too, held himself in ready alert.
Mrs. Jenkinson’s frown lines met. “I have no knowledge of Colonel Fitzwilliam’s opinions. He’s not spoken them before me.”
“If not Lady Catherine or Colonel Fitzwilliam, does Miss De Bourgh wish me to withdraw from our acquaintance?”
“It’s not my dear Anne’s wish either,” the lady confessed. “And before you ask, I would express no opposition of my own if your friendship is true.”
Southland smiled knowingly. “You wish to determine whether I offer Miss De Bourgh a false face.”
“I do, Lieutenant. Despite Miss De Bourgh’s handsome features, my dearest Anne has had few male companions. She is untested, and I wish to know your nature, Lieutenant Southland.”
“May I speak honestly, Ma’am?” The lieutenant sat forward to assure intimacy.
“I demand that you do, Sir.”
Southland nodded his agreement. “I’ve heard of Rosings Park and the De Bourghs all my life, and I wish to know more of each. Beyond that, I have no plans. Call it curiosity. Call it idiosyncrasy. I cannot truly explain my interest beyond those facts. For years, the Rosings’ family has held a certain mystery, but to be truthful, I never anticipated finding Miss De Bourgh so attractive, nor did I expect to enjoy thoroughly my few brief conversations with the lady.”
“The De Bourghs have their faults, Lieutenant. It wouldn’t be wise to idealize the life found at Rosings Park,” she warned.
“I’m aware of that folly,” the lieutenant conceded. “What I’d hoped was to spend time with Miss De Bourgh — to leave the ideal behind and to embrace reality. If the acquaintance proves to the lady’s liking, then we’ll see where to go from there.”
Mrs. Jenkinson’s mouth set in a firm line. “That may be difficult, Sir. It’s my understanding that you have no title. Lady Catherine isn’t likely to approve.”
The lieutenant sat back into the chair’s cushions. “If things were to progress to that point, I would remind Miss De Bourgh that she’s of age.Yet, it’s too soon to speak of these matters. While at Pemberley, I would prefer to cultivate the acquaintance. If that’s acceptable to you, Ma’am?” He grinned largely.
“I’ll be watching you, Lieutenant Southland,” Mrs. Jenkinson cautioned. “I’ll allow no one to injure Anne.”
“I’d expect nothing less, Mrs. Jenkinson.”
“I need for you to lean back a bit more, Mr. Joseph,” Elizabeth instructed. She bumped Mary’s knee to open the lady’s legs further. “I can see the head. Your child has dark hair,” she said nervously. Over the last hour, Elizabeth had questioned God’s reason more than once. How could He place her in such a situation? She knew nothing about delivering a healthy child. But here she was, offering advice to both mother and father. God possesses a unique sense of humor, she thought.
Mary let out a toe-curling scream. Her stoicism had faded with the pain’s intensity. Now, she cried out freely. The spasms were only seconds apart. Less than ten minutes earlier, Mary’s press had sent a bloody liquid into a waiting bowl. Elizabeth had quickly changed out the bowls and returned to her position on the floor. “Mary, listen to me,” she demanded. “With the next pain, instead of screaming, I want you to lock your jaw and hold in your breath. Concentrate on pushing with your stomach muscles. You might even lean forward.”
“Are you certain, Mrs. Darcy?” a very ragged-looking Mr. Joseph asked.
“It is paramount to bringing the child into the world.” Elizabeth double-checked the proximity of the razor and the towels she had placed in waiting. “A few more times, Mary, and your child shall be in your arms.”
Elizabeth watched the exhausted expression leave the woman’s face, and paroxysms of pain take its place. Mary bit down on her bottom lip and pressed hard. “It’s coming,” Elizabeth coaxed. “You may let out your breath,” she instructed. What followed was an explosion of air preceding a long wail of release.
“Very good, Mary.” Elizabeth touched the child’s matted hair with her fingertips. “Catch your breath, for you must do it again.” Mary nodded weakly and gulped for air.
Soon, the next pain and then the next and the next arrived. Each brought further enervation on Mary’s part, as well as bringing more of the child into view. “The shoulders are clear,” Elizabeth reported as she supported the baby’s body. “Once more,” she encouraged. “Once more should do it, Mary. We’re almost there.”
“It is dark outside,” Mr. Joseph said out of nowhere.
His wife moaned, “What does it matter?”
Mr. Joseph laughed heartily. “It doesn’t, my dear. It was a bizarre attempt to draw your mind away and to give you strength to do the most miraculous thing a woman can do.” He kissed the top of his wife’s head.
Mary stiffened and pressed her hips upward. With a surge, the child slid into Elizabeth’s waiting hands. “Oh, my,” Elizabeth blurted and quickly turned the child over. Placing it on the clean cloths she had prepared, she began to wipe the blood and mucus from its body.
“Is it well?” Mr. Joseph demanded. “The child?”
Elizabeth ignored his question. “Stay,” she ordered when he started to move. “Mary’s body still has a job to complete.” All the time her fingers pried at the child’s small crevices with the soft cloths. “Come on, Little One,” she cajoled.
She lifted the child away from Mary’s body as far as the umbilical cord would allow. “I need help,” she mumbled.
“I will…” Mr. Joseph began again.
“No!” Elizabeth snapped. “Hold Mary. She has more pain to endure.” She turned her head toward the door. “Fitzwilliam,” she called. “I need you.” Immediately, the door opened. Her magnificent husband was where she expected him to be.
“What do you require? Is the child well?”
With her gaze, she indicated to Mr. Joseph to drop the sheet over his wife’s body. Then Elizabeth ordered, “You must help me cut the cord.”
In the next second, Darcy was across the room and kneeling at her side. “Tell me what to do.”
She stretched out the cord again. “Tie off the cord twice; once to stop the blood from Mrs. Joseph; once to stop the blood to the child. Then cut the cord between the two. Quickly, Fitzwilliam, so I can tend the baby.” Darcy did as she had instructed. Meanwhile, Elizabeth held the child close and began to urge the baby to take its first breath. “Come on, Sweet One.” She rubbed its back and pressed harder.
Completing the cut, Darcy whispered, “I have the child.” Darcy took the baby from her grasp. “See to Mrs. Joseph.” Then her husband walked away, the infant close to his chest. With an air of confidence, he swung the child around and laid it on the bed. “You can do this,” he said softly as he blew in the stone-still face. As she looked on, Darcy massaged the baby’s chest, placed a finger in its mouth to open it, and blew again. He bent closer and blew a third time. Finally, the Lord rewarded his effort. A twittering chirp escaped. “That’s right,” he whispered gravelly. “Once more.” He blew gently into the radish-red face. Finally, the infant opened its mouth and let out its own cry.
Darcy picked it up and turned to those on the other side of the room — only to discover a strange tableau staring intently at him. The picture of the three weary adults struck him as amusing. He laughed easily. “I assume you would like to meet Mr. Joseph’s son.”