“Mr. Darcy,” said she, warmth suffusing her voice, “please allow me to congratulate you and Mrs. Darcy on behalf of the staff.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds,” said Darcy, emotion charging his response. “I appreciate your assistance to Elizabeth and us all in our time of need.”
“Not at all,” said the woman, stepping close to inspect the child in his arms. “Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Bennet did most of the work—I managed the details to ensure they did not need to turn their focus from your wife.”
Mrs. Reynolds extended a finger and stroked his son’s cheek, causing him to squirm a little. She gave a delighted laugh.
“So beautiful, not that I would have expected anything else from a Darcy and his beautiful wife.”
“I think he takes after Elizabeth,” said Darcy. “He has her eyes.”
“Perhaps,” replied Mrs. Reynolds, giving him a mysterious smile. “But I also see his father in the shape of his jaw, his nose, and the scrunching of his brow.”
Darcy laughed. “I would not wish him to resemble his mother at my expense.”
“Of course not. He is part of you both.”
With a few more strokes of her finger, Mrs. Reynolds shooed him toward the sitting-room where the family waited, promising to keep everything operating as she had for many more years than Darcy had known her.
The room hummed with expectation, though all conversation stopped when Darcy entered. Everyone who mattered to him was within. The younger girls, Lydia, Kitty, Mary, and Georgiana, looked up eagerly, appearing ready to dash to him to be the first to peer at the new life to come to Pemberley. Mr. Bennet was in the corner with Lord Matlock, hunched over a chessboard while Fitzwilliam stood over them in the attitude of giving them both advice. On another side of the room, Lady Susan sat with Anne, now Fitzwilliam’s official betrothed, and Miss Bingley, who had become dearer to the Darcys than he had ever suspected she would. Then his closest friend and his radiant new wife, the beautiful Jane Bingley, married for less than a month. Finally, the Gardiner family, Edward and Madeleine and their children, arrived at Pemberley just days before to spend the Christmas season with family. These people were his life, his family, far more important to him than social connections or empty acquaintances for show.
“Elizabeth has just given birth,” Darcy announced. “We have a son.”
As he expected, the girls squealed and darted toward him, though Mary followed at a more dignified pace. This was the signal for the rest of the party to join them, crowding around and taking their turns to exclaim over his perfection and coo to him, though he could not respond. Soon, they claimed his son and whisked him to a nearby sofa, where he would endure being passed from hand to hand until everyone had held him.
“Well done, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam, clasping his shoulder. “Have you decided on a name yet?”
Darcy smiled and nodded. “Elizabeth and I settled on David Charles Anthony Darcy a few days ago.”
Bingley and Fitzwilliam both grinned with delight at the honor of Darcy’s new son bearing their names. The earl looked on with interest.
“It has been a tradition in the Darcy family to endow the eldest son with the surname of his mother,” observed he. “Though the tradition fell by the wayside in recent generations until Jameson.”
“And yet,” replied Darcy, “my name always gave me grief, though I do not speak intending to insult. I honor my wife by remaining faithful to my vows and building a life with her—I do not need pretentious gestures to offer her what is already in my heart.”
“Some might take offense at your words,” said the earl, though his grin belied any such sentiments. “When I heard your father had given you my surname, I was amused by his presumption. With that in mind, I cannot fault your choice.”
That morning was the first indication of his son’s good temper, as he endured the disruption to his sleep without fussing. The atmosphere was festive as the season, the joy of new life and expanded horizons.
“Congratulations, son,” said Bennet. “My wife is no doubt ecstatic with her first grandchild.”
“I have not spoken to her yet, but I cannot but imagine she is.” Darcy, feeling a hint of mischief coming over him, added: “Now that Elizabeth has given birth, I suppose you must feel the need to return to your estate. You have been away from it for almost eight months now.”
“I warned you, Darcy,” rejoined Mr. Bennet. “Now that I have seen your comfortable—and extensive—library, I am not eager to return to Longbourn. You will just need to put up with me.”
The company, overhearing the exchange, laughed at the predictability of Bennet’s statement. Darcy settled for shaking his head in exasperation.
“I suppose there is no choice but to endure you.”
At length, even David’s easy temper appeared exhausted by all the fuss, his soft cries for his mother’s attention bringing animmediate return to Darcy’s arms. Lady Susan, who handed the child back to him, smiled and suggested he return to his wife.
“Your lovely wife is waiting to welcome her child again, and I must suppose he is hungry. There is no need to return to us tonight, William. We shall manage in your absence.”
With a grateful smile, Darcy took his child and left the room, arriving at the door to his private chambers with Elizabeth a moment later. Elizabeth, he noted, had moved from the birthing chamber, was bathed and dressed in a soft nightgown, sitting against several pillows in their bed while his mother and hers fussed around her. When he entered, her eyes brightened, her hands extended for the return of her family. Darcy obliged her at once, sitting on the edge of the bed, drawing her in for an embrace with an active child between them.
The soft cries of their son’s discontent interrupted their intimate reunion, and with a smile, Darcy placed the wriggling infant in Elizabeth’s arms. Within moments, he was nursing, his movements stilled, contented, while Elizabeth glowed with the love of a new mother. The image of them would forever remain etched in his mind, one he would recall fondly for many years as signaling a new beginning, a perfect point in time.
“Are you certain you do not wish to hire a wet nurse?” asked Darcy.
