5

Author's Note: I do not own or claim to own any of Jane Austen's characters listed. Have fun reading.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy paced outside of his own bedroom. His sister, backed by the advice of the midwife, had thrown him out. According to them, his 'smothering concern' was agitating his wife. This he doubted, but Elizabeth was in no state to tell them herself, as she was in great pain of labor to bring their child into the world. Was it to be a son or a daughter? The door opened, interrupting his reverie, and Mary Bennett looked in on him.

Elizabeth's younger sister was staying with them, as Mr. Bennett thought she had better chances of obtaining a marriage by attending the social functions around Pemberley than her own home. Darcy had discovered that Mary was not as undesirable as her plain countenance first hinted. She was in fact very intelligent, and could play the pianoforte rather well; she was also much more pleasant now that she was not competing with four sisters who were all much more handsome.

"There has been no change?" she asked him.

"Not at all, except I have been expelled from the room."

"Oh. Well, you were very distracting you know, pacing in such an ominous way. I'm sure it's for the best."

"I am sure it is not," he countered, "for I wish to be with Elizabeth."

Mary walked across the room to sit down at the window seat with her book, opening it to where the marker had been placed with one last absent-minded comment. "Well, you might as well get comfortable out here, sir; for they are not going to admit you and childbirth can take quite a while. Days, even."

Darcy could not imagine having to be under this type of stress for days. It was surely not possible. He cast the apparently unconcerned Mary a smoldering look of annoyance as the door opened again, this time admitting his housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds. She was carried a pan of steaming water, and bustled past him without even a word into the bedroom beyond. Once more it was just him and Mary in the sitting room. He resumed pacing.

"Must you pace so?" Mary had looked up from her reading. "It is ever so distracting."

"I must do something, or I will go mad."

"Well, then read a book, or write a letter, or go for a calming walk. I'm sure you will be fetched when Lizzy is ready to see you."

"Are you not the least bit anxious, Miss Mary?"

"No, and you are silly to be worried. Women have been having babies for all of time. It's not that big of a deal. "

"I would not be so bothered if I was with Elizabeth."

"It's a place for women, not men. That would not be proper. They will send for you when the child is born and the mess cleaned up."

This, of course, did not soothe Darcy's mind. What sort of mess was made during birth? He knew that it was supposed to be rather painful, but he'd never heard that it was particular messy. Of course, if men were always banished from the room they wouldn't know that. He sat down beside his writing desk but did not pick up his pen. He caught Mary watching him several times. Little did he know that she was very interested in this blatant show of emotion; it was very unusual for him and she'd never seen him react this intensely to anything. Even when he and Elizabeth were married, he passed the celebration with barely more than a smile.

Darcy became lost once more in his thoughts of sons and daughters, names, childcare, and other subjects relevant to the moment. The sun traveled its normal path across the sky, sending long dark shadows across the room. A manservant came through to light the lamps, then left. Head pillowed on his hand, Darcy had just begun to doze when the door to the bedchamber hallway opened and Georgiana rushed out.

"Will! Will, come on!" she entreated. "Wake up,"

Darcy was startled wide awake and looked fondly at his sister, despite the fact that she had thrown him out of the room earlier. "I'm awake. I'm coming." He stood and hurried behind her down the long hallway that led to the bed chambers. The first thing he noticed was it was not at all messy. Mary obviously had no idea what she was talking about. Mrs. Reynolds was fussing about her mistress, straightening the blankets on the bed and repeatedly asking if Elizabeth was really quite comfortable, to which Elizabeth replied that she was sure she was and would Mrs. Reynolds please stop fussing? The midwife was standing beside Elizabeth, smiling at her own handiwork.

Elizabeth herself looked quite radiantly blissful, even though there was a definite paleness to her skin and weariness in her pose and expression. She looked up at him and then her smile turned onto the bundle she held in her arms, her bright smile softening to quiet amazement. "Will, look." She had adopted Georgiana's nickname for him, and he couldn't say he minded. It made all of their conversations more personal that those he had with even his friends, to all of whom he was known as Darcy. He walked to the bedside and looked down upon his son. "Will, isn't he beautiful?"

"I think he will someday prefer the word handsome, but yes, he is perfect."

"Do you want to hold him?" Darcy nodded his assent and the boy was transferred from Elizabeth's arms to his own. His tiny eyes were closed, and it was quite amazing how perfectly sculpted everything was, from his tiny face to his even smaller fingers and toes.

"What are we going to name him?"

"I was thinking James, or maybe Nathaniel," Elizabeth replied, "What do you think?"

"I like Nathaniel," was his reply before he turned to dismiss the other women so that he could have a moment alone with his wife. He leaned down to kiss her gently, "and perhaps James for the next."

And, because all boys like to have brothers to play with, Nathaniel Darcy cooed his delight to his father's excellent idea.