“What shall I do?”
“Help me to my room and send for Molly so I can change. You should alert Mrs. Reynolds and then come back to me. I am sorry. I fear there will be no rest for either of us tonight, my love. The midwife said that when the birthing process begins, it will be very important for me to walk as much as I am able. And since walking has been so difficult of late, I shall need you to assist me.”
“I would have it no other way and will stay with you through it all if needs be.”
“That would be my preference, though I doubt those who will be assisting will permit you to remain for long.”
“We shall see. Rest assured; I will do whatever is required, and whatever you want shall be my priority.”
“Dear, dear William, I love you so very much. At last our children are ready to make their presence known.”
The Birth
Having left Elizabeth to the care of her maid, William quickly alerted Mrs. Reynolds, who would see to the final preparations for what was to come. After dispatching a footman to bring the midwife from the village and notify the local doctor so he could plan his arrival accordingly, William went to his study and penned a note to the Kympton rector, asking for prayerful support.
Walking to the window and looking out into the night, William offered up his own prayer while waiting to be informed when Elizabeth would be ready for him to join her. He had promised her he would be strong for their family, yet the remembrance of what Anne suffered during Anna’s birth andwith the death of his son suddenly came crashing back with a vengeance.
With both Anna and Lewis, Anne had been ill for most of her pregnancies. By her own choice she remained confined to her chambers for much of that time, refusing to leave for days on end. During all of those long months, not once did she send for him, and while he tried to see her on a regular basis, for the most part she denied him entrance to her chambers, being too unwell. In both instances, Lady Catherine had insisted that Anne relocate to Rosings Park for the duration of her pregnancy and confinement, but Anne refused. Following her marriage to William, she had no desire to ever return to Rosings Park, not that she could have endured the travel while being so ill.
When it came time for Anne to deliver Anna, she was attended by Mr. Purdy, a doctor whom William had never cared for but who had been employed by the Fitzwilliam and Darcy families for as long as he could remember. After each visit the doctor consulted with William, though in the end the two men never completely agreed on what could be done to alleviate Anne’s suffering. When it came time to give birth to their first child, Anne had not been in the birthing chamber for much more than seven hours when his housekeeper sought him out in the library where he was waiting.
“Mrs. Troutman, how is my wife?”
“Sir, Mrs. Darcy has given birth to a beautiful daughter,” she said, with not much enthusiasm.
“But?” he questioned, knowing something was not quite right. “Is the child well? I heard no cry.” He panicked. “What are you not telling me?”
“Mr. Darcy, there was an incident during the birth which I must report.”
“Go on,” he bid the woman.
“Unknown to the doctor and those who were attending Mrs. Darcy, your wife petitioned her maid to give her laudanum for the pain.”
“Good God, what was she thinking?!” he said, more to himself than to the housekeeper.
“Mrs. Darcy is sleeping now, but towards the end she lost consciousness and we could barely rouse her to push out the babe. Eventually, Mrs. Darcy’s maid broke down and told us all. Thankfully your daughter is fairly small; otherwise I do not know how we might have managed her delivery.”
“And the child? You have not told me if she is well.”
“It will be several hours before we can know for sure. I am sorry, but your daughter was also affected by the laudanum. She was quite listless and pale after passing from Mrs. Darcy’s body. The doctor did much to stimulate her breathing, and when she finally took her first breath, there was no healthy cry, only a faint gurgling sound. Nevertheless, the wet nurse is encouraging the babe to suckle as we speak, and Mr. Purdy believes that much of the laudanum will pass through the child once she is able to take in an ample amount of nourishment. The midwife suggests you wait another hour while the maids finish taking care of Mrs. Darcy and your daughter. If you wish, you may see both of them at that time and hold the little girl. Mr. Purdy will be down momentarily and would like to speak with you.”
“I would imagine so.” He scowled. “Tell him I shall be waiting in the drawing room.”
Just then, there was a knock at the door, and none too soon. To William’s relief, it was one of the upstairs maids telling him that Elizabeth had finished changing and was waiting for him to join her. Putting those disturbing memories aside, William silently thanked God that Elizabeth was a strong, determined woman and nothing like poor Anne. Within minutes he wasupstairs and at her side, pulling her into his embrace and offering words of comfort and reassurance.
“Are you ready, my love?” He kissed her, not caring who might be witness to his attentions. At this moment Elizabeth and their unborn children were all that mattered. He would rally, supporting Elizabeth and the babes with everything he could muster. She was his present and future.
“Yes, William,” she lovingly smiled. “Let us begin walking. It will no doubt be several hours before I am ready to use the chair, but the more I walk, the sooner we will be able to see our children.”
Thursday, the Next Morning
William and Elizabeth walked much of the night throughout the confines of their suite of rooms, with an occasional turn down the length of the hallway, hoping not to wake the girls. During the early stages of her labour, Elizabeth’s contractions were fairly mild, causing no more than a dull ache in her lower back or across her lower abdomen. This was good, since it allowed her to periodically take a break from walking and rest in her bed while William sat next to her reading or massaging her feet. This routine, however, took a decided turn around six o’clock in the morning, a little after first light.
Without warning, Elizabeth’s pains came more regularly, increasing in intensity and duration. Each time she felt the pain, it was nearly impossible to stand, and therefore she relied heavily on William to hold her up until she was able to walk again. When being examined by the midwife, the woman predicted it still might be a few more hours before the mistress would be ready to push. At this time the village doctor was sentfor and a wet nurse was alerted in the event that Elizabeth had difficulty providing enough milk for two babes.
Per William’s request, Uncle Gardiner had sent a birthing chair to Pemberley several months prior since there was nothing of the sort in storage from Lady Anne’s time. Being that Elizabeth could barely hold herself up to walk, she knew the chair would greatly aid her as she progressed through the final stages of giving birth.
“My love,” William enquired after the midwife had finished examining her, “is there anything at all I can get for your comfort?”
