Author's note: Baby is due in April NOT August, thanks go to michchick for pointing that out. Also, this chapter is longer because I had a specific place at which I wanted to finish so I was working backwards while writing this story! I don't know how long it will be until the next installment because I'm going back to school on the 19th August but I'll try my best, I promise. Enjoy!

Friday 24th December 1813

12.30pm

The drawing room at Netherfield had not been so full since the two most eligible young men in the country were married off to the most charming young women in Hertfordshire. However, only two momentous occasions had occurred since that date and they were both coincidentally in the same room together on a fine winter day. Mrs Hurst was the first, one of the few fortunate women in the first circles who had married for money and now had a male heir – removing the necessity of ever having to lie with her husband again. Now five months old, Lawrence Hurst was round and cried for the majority of his waking hours, an occupation in which he was most efficient. It was his squeals of discomfort and annoyance that had captured Elizabeth's ears and kept her in a terrified trance for almost a full ten minutes, when her Aunt Gardiner kindly distracted her and turned her attention to her own child.

"Lizzy, pray tell me, how have you been faring recently?"

Elizabeth smiled gratefully and set down her cup, "I am perfectly fine, thank you."

Mrs Gardiner sighed and her voice dropped to a whisper. "Elizabeth, I know that it is not in your nature to cause any worry, but you really needn't – "

"Aunt, I am hiding nothing. There is nothing to worry about." Mrs Gardiner raised her eyebrow, informing her niece that she was fooling no-one. "I simply do not see the reason why I should alarm anyone any more than is necessary with comments about my condition that do not interest them."

"Very well," Mrs Gardiner put a reassuring hand on her niece's arm, "but I am interested, Elizabeth. Please, I would like to know. I have done it myself you know."

Elizabeth's eyes widened at her comment, but conceded that in this situation, her Aunt's interest was purely for nostalgic reasons. "The baby has been moving very much. It feels . . . so strange." Lizzy could not help but smile as she felt a sudden pressure on her lower abdomen and patted her swollen stomach to inform her baby that was indeed talking about it.

"Indeed, I am not surprised. I remember carrying my Alicia, goodness almost fourteen years ago now, she ensured I knew her presence very well." Mrs Gardiner paused and exhaled thoughtfully then, causing Lizzy to furrow her brow. "Your uncle, he was very concerned, being our first child obviously neither of us knew what to expect and every pressure, sensation or feeling was examined." She laughed at this thought, recalling it as a happy time it seemed. Elizabeth thought on her own husband's conduct.

"Fitzwilliam's concern is not so comforting. He and Jane are driving me to distraction with their incessant coddling." Elizabeth slammed down her cup again in an impetuous moment of frustration as she remembered that earlier this evening her husband had tried to convince her to stay in her rooms to rest.

Mrs Gardiner started at this; she had not heard Lizzy complain for a very long time, especially when it concerned her husband. "Elizabeth." Mrs Gardiner's voice changed to a motherly tone Lizzy had only heard her use when addressing the children. "Mr Darcy loves you very deeply. You know that, Lizzy, he is only showing the expected concern, as is your loving sister. They are good intentions; they are trying to comfort you, Elizabeth."

"They are trying to comfort themselves, Aunt. It has nothing to do with my comfort. I have told Fitzwilliam almost nothing about the little one because I am terrified that he will assume everything is a complaint."

"You must explain to him, Lizzy. He must feel very isolated from you."

At this point, Elizabeth had lost her patience with the discussion. In her mind, any concern was a personal affront on her ability to endure this aspect of womanhood with dignity and grace. "It is not your concern, Aunt. Perhaps you should leave it with me."

Mrs Gardiner recognised in Elizabeth the same stubbornness that had probably prevented her from forming an attachment to her husband earlier in their acquaintance. She knew it was pointless to argue with her: Lizzy would come around eventually, after a bit of heartache of course.

"Mrs Hurst." Mrs Darcy addressed the woman on the opposite side of the room clearly, giving Mrs Gardiner no room to doubt that their conversation was over. "How are you and your son? I hope you had a more peaceful term than I."

Mrs Hurst smiled condescendingly to Mrs Darcy, "My dear Mrs Darcy, I had no such problems; Mr Hurst did not show concern for me, really." She paused to pick up her tea, "if I am perfectly honest, he showed not the slightest bit of disquiet during my time."

Mrs Gardiner gently nudged her niece, "I think you should thank Mr Darcy, Elizabeth." Lizzy could not but smile at Mrs Hurst and avoid the knowing gaze of her Aunt.

"Lizzy," said Jane, moving with Georgiana from across the room where she had been turning pages for Miss Darcy.

"Yes Jane?" Inquired her sister, glad for a chance to move on from the prying of Mrs Gardiner.

"Are you absolutely sure you cannot stay with us until the New Year, Lizzy?" immediately Mrs Darcy began to sigh impatiently, and even Mrs Gardiner slipped Jane a warning look, "it would save you so much anxiety – "

"Jane I will not repeat myself, we cannot stay: Mrs Reynolds is expecting us and I will feel more comfortable at home. You know Mr Darcy will not let us travel any later."

Georgiana offered an explanation for their short visit, "For my brother's peace of mind we are spending as little time as possible away from Pemberley at the moment."

Lizzy smiled and took her sister's hand, "He would think us mad to suggest we stay longer and I cannot stand another lecture on how badly it would affect my nerves. Mine! It is Fitzwilliam about whom I am concerned." Georgiana squeezed Lizzy's hand in support and Mrs Bingley moved over to see her guests on her husband's side.

Mrs Gardiner attempted one last effort to convince Lizzy of her husband's sincerity, "Elizabeth, you really should appreciate Mr Darcy. You know he speaks sense in this situation."

"Yes Aunt, I understand that, but his concern is an annoyance rather than a comfort. Now let us leave it at that."

Saturday 25th December 1813

8:30am

"Elizabeth, this is not to be borne!"

"Indeed it is not, Fitzwilliam." Lizzy returned her brush to her vanity table and turned to look her husband in the face. It was Christmas morning: in the past few hours they had happily opened presents and exchanged greetings with their family. Then as they returned to their rooms, Mr Darcy had informed her that she was not to attend mass. She would not stand to have her decisions made for her. Unfortunately, Lizzy was finding it particularly difficult to argue: her baby was kicking beyond that which she had ever felt . . . yet. "You are being unreasonable, Fitzwilliam."

He sighed in an effort to control his rising ire, "it is for your protection, Lizzy. I would not do it if it was not for your own good, you know that – "

"No! It is for your own good, your protection! You want your own fears put to rest because you think they correspond with mine. They do not!" She walked towards her dressing room and picked up her coat, but before she could put it on, Mr Darcy grabbed it from her. "Mr Darcy," she wrenched her coat back from him and spoke with a fierce anger in her voice that she could not expel, "I wonder so very much why you agreed we accept this invitation if you are now so worried all the time. Why did you want to come to Netherfield? And how, may I ask, will you fare on the journey home?"

Her husband sat on the settee and held his head in his hands. Not for the first time, Elizabeth saw how genuinely he was distressed over her condition, but to her surprise as much as his, such an expression did not satiate her grief, or his. "I want you to have as much rest as possible now, because we are making such an extensive journey tomorrow."

Lizzy did not think she could grow much angrier. She thought to herself that if she were any younger, or if she were by herself, she might have been driven to a fit of tears. "This is nonsense, Fitzwilliam. If I am by myself, not only will I be alone on Christmas Day, but I will have nothing on which to focus except my own fears. I would be better amongst others." She stopped in front of him here and lifted his head to drive her point home, "I will not stay."

"Please, Elizabeth." He begged of her in a soft, quiet tone as she struggled to conceal another painful kick.

"I promise not to stand, and to keep hold of your hand during the entire service." She said, mimicking his tenor. He sighed, admitting defeat.

"I love you, Lizzy."

"William," Lizzy gave him a kiss and ran her hands through his hair: something she had not done in some time. Her husband seemed to realise this and smiled when he returned her favour. It was only when Jane came in to ask if Mr Darcy were ready, that the two were reminded by Mrs Bingley that a woman so far along in her condition did not attend public events.

Elizabeth stayed.

11.30am

"And lo, the Angel of the Lord appeared before them and they were sore afraid . . . "

Fitzwilliam Darcy had not listened to anything the reverend had said. It was only due to the fact that it was the Christmas season that he knew the subject of the sermon. His impatience to return home and see his wife had been quite visible, so much so that his younger sister had to still his hand as it rapped on the pew in front.

"We shall be at Netherfield soon," she had whispered to him, "and at home shortly after. Calm yourself."

It was this reprimand that had forced him to grasp the fact that he should have stayed with her. His regret was not dispelled when he entered their chambers, and found her sleeping quite soundly, surrounded by chaos. As he walked towards her, he passed her coat and her shoes had been thrown away in her anger and when he reached her side, he could see her complexion was pink and streaked with dried tears.

"Lizzy, my dear," he touched her face gently, but thought the better of waking her, preferring to sit by her until she woke. Soon, he noticed she was clutching something in her hands and slowly moving what first looked to be a piece of cloth, he saw that she, most likely in her anger, had snapped her hand-mirror and was now cradling it in the handkerchief he had given her when they were courting. It almost moved him to tears, himself: he had known she would be distressed and he immediately set on apologising for not having the sense to remain with her. Mr Darcy was not an ignorant man, and knew that his concern was an irritant to his lively wife. He knew she would find it difficult to contain and save her energy, but he thought that she would be a little more understanding of his feelings. This was quite selfish of him, but he could not help himself. He was worried and frightened and it was the only time in his life where he could do nothing to prevent such feelings: when Georgiana was found, he had rid both their lives of Wickham; when he proposed to Elizabeth and failed, he had attempted to see to it that her admonishments were not in vain; and when they were engaged, and he realised he was falling short in his part as her fiancée, he kissed her. At this point, he felt an idiot. What was he to do now he saw he was falling short as her husband . . . and a father?

Sunday 26th December 1813

2am

Margaret Gardiner stood at the open window of the library at Netherfield. It was a striking night; the faint beam of the moon played shadows on the floor and the breeze was wafting coolly through the room. Standing and enjoying the early morning wind was something she had not done since she was carrying her youngest child: it was soothing, and a welcome relief from the heat and discomfort of sleeping. Tonight, it was not sweet memories of her children that occupied her mind, but the knowledge of just how much Lizzy took after her: she was just as immoveable as Margaret herself had been and even moreso, because whilst they both were determined and sensible, Lizzy had a very passionate nature which when coupled with the drain a child has on one's energy must make for a very confusing time. Margaret knew that Elizabeth was not making it any easier by putting distance between her and her husband, especially considering how much he cared for her.

Suddenly, Mrs Gardiner could hear the door creak tentatively and a few carefully placed footsteps followed by a sigh of relief. She realised that Elizabeth was more like her than she first thought. "Is there something wrong, Elizabeth?"

Lizzy jumped and her hand flew to her chest in release as she registered the unexpected presence. "Good God! Aunt, I did not know . . . what are you doing here?"

"I might ask the same of you, Lizzy." She watched as Lizzy looked away, guiltily. "Our discussion today reminded me of something I used to do when I was in your condition. I would get very hot and a secret little stroll in the breeze would soon set me to rights."

Elizabeth smiled at the similarities between them, "well, there is nothing the matter with me, I was . . . hot."

"I know you think your mother was not good for very much, but she must at least have taught not to lie."

"I am not lying."

"There are windows in your own rooms."

At this, Lizzy was ready to jump to her own defence. But today she had been firmly put in her place when she realised she was not to be seen in society, and that her husband had not stayed with her. It was the first time she had ever felt so alone when most would argue it was the only time when that was impossible. She had nothing to say, and so sat down at the window and fingered her husband's handkerchief, or hers now, she supposed it was.

"Lizzy," Mrs Gardiner sat near her in the light of the moon and endeavoured one last time to advise her niece, "You are perfectly right to feel worried and alone, but it need not be this way." Lizzy breathed in, in an effort not to cry from the weeks of stress that she had only brought upon herself. "It is unjust to treat your husband in such a flippant manner when you both feel the same"

"Aunt, you do not understand." Elizabeth stood, with some trouble, and faced her confidant. "I cannot do that. If I show the slightest inclination towards how I actually feel then I will have no freedom at all," she could not help herself now, and the hated tears flooded her eyes to the point where she could barely see beyond her nose. "Worse than that, what would Fitzwilliam do? Knowing that I – the one who actually has to give birth – am terrified beyond that of which I have ever known myself capable." Now, as she was sobbing pathetically, she wondered why her Aunt did not move to comfort her, until she felt her husband's arms envelope her and his kiss on her forehead.

"I think my work is done," Margaret whispered to herself and she quietly slipped from the room to leave the young lovers to reconcile.

Fitzwilliam knew enough about his wife to realise all she needed was his support, and holding her close to him he simply moved her to the settee and waited for her to speak.

"William," she said raising her head, "I'm sorry."

"I understand and I have first hand knowledge of your disposition, Lizzy. I know you need adventure and freedom. I do not contain you deliberately. I . . . feel redundant on my part and I will try to be more considerate. But you must do the same."

"I did not mean to keep you at such a distance" she held his hand, "I am sorry,"

"Do not apologise."

Elizabeth looked at him, confused. "But – "

"No. You have done nothing for which you need to apologise, you are having a baby!"

"We are having a baby" She corrected him.

"Yes," he smiled at the thought, and leant down to kiss her abdomen, laughing when he felt a kick under his hand. "But it is you who must give birth, as you said. Do not conceal your feelings from me, simply to keep up appearances."

She smiled at him and he caught a glimpse of the sparkle she had in eye when she was about to tease him, "are you sure you can cope with the erratic feelings of a woman in the family way?"

"I am only wary of her sharp tongue," she laughed at his reply, "I can comfort her, if she will allow me." Elizabeth became solemn at this, and wrapped her arms around his neck, which pressed the baby against his stomach and caused him to momentarily lose control of his speech: she was very beautiful, her dark eyes still swathed him and he would gladly be lost in them again and again. "You are quite the most beautiful woman I have ever seen"

"Indeed? I should hope so; I am carrying your child, sir." She slipped out as he quieted her lips with his, before they returned to bed for a true reconcilement.

Tuesday 28th December 1813

11am

It is not the usual objective of a servant to concern herself with her own anxious feelings. At her mother's knee, this particular servant had learned that it was the aim of the staff to learn how to make their presence unknown, and it was this piece of advice that had remained in the forefront of Mrs Reynolds' mind as she carried out her role as housekeeper of Pemberley. Nevertheless, she could not but surrender herself to her nerves and anxieties every time the Mistress of Pemberley got nearer to the last months of her term, and therefore closer to childbirth. This time, Mrs Reynolds was struggling not to lose sense completely, as not only was the young woman in question with child and close to the end of her condition, but she was not currently stationed at Pemberley, neither had she been for eleven days now.

"The Master Chambers are ready, ma'am." Mrs Reynolds was jostled from her reverie by the childlike lilt of upstairs maid, and smiled at her gratefully.

"Thank you, Anna." But the young maid did not seem to follow the natural presumption of disappearing once more. Rather, she was rooted to the spot and her eyes were fixed on her shoes. "Is there something else, Anna?"

"No, ma'am, it is just . . ." she hesitated.

Mrs Reynolds had just about lost her nerves. She was already a wreck waiting for the now tardy masters of the house: she had no patience for a diffident servant. "What is it, Anna? I am distracted enough as it is."

Anna wrung her hands and boldly said her piece, "we are worried too, ma'am, about the Mistress and the young baby. Please, ma'am, we were wondering when they are expected."

The old woman could not be angry for such concern: of course others would be just as uneasy and she knew the baby was eagerly awaited. "Dear Anna, they are expected presently and have been for some time." Upon seeing the fear in Anna's expression at such news, she continued, saying, "You must rest easy my dear, I have here," and she held up some papers, "reports of their safe arrivals at every scheduled stop as well as notes of their leave-taking. Do not worry." Anna immediately dropped to curtsey and Mrs Reynolds knew without looking that she had once again become the invisible servant.

Unexpectedly, Mrs Reynolds caught a glimpse of a footman dashing up the steps with wild abandon. "Madam, I see them!" At once, it seemed as though the British Army itself was forming on the lawn: Mrs Reynolds marched to the head, picturing just ahead of her a cloud of dust and hearing the sound of galloping hooves, and behind her two house-maids, the Butler and three footmen formed the welcoming party. Inside, she heard the swift and light footing of the parlour-maids as they too returned through concealed passages and swirling stairs to become the unseen help, leaving the spotless living rooms behind them.

And as the fine carriage drew ever closer to its destination, Mrs Reynolds uttered final words of warning to the few servants who were seen by the family, "Remember, now: cleanliness may very well be next to Godliness, but serenity and efficiency are next to Mr and Mrs Darcy and they are your employers." Barely controlled glee flashed across the faces of the gathered servants before the carriage came to a standstill and the composed figures of well-trained hands greeted the eyes of the Darcys.

"Mr and Mrs Darcy, Miss Darcy, welcome home. I trust your journey was uneventful?"

Tuesday 4th January 1814

3.22pm

"Thank you, Doctor." Said Elizabeth as her lady drew up her covers and handed her tea.

Dr Howards turned into his coat and smiled appreciatively. "You are quite welcome, Mrs Darcy. Remember, although I know you do not like it much, rest and relaxation is paramount."

"Yes, Doctor. I assure you, I am not above resting when I need it."

"He must know your disposition, my dear." Her husband stepped back into the room and after shaking Howard's hand made to kiss his wife. "You can be quite determined." She laughed and raised an eyebrow.

"Ah, Mr Darcy, I would have a word with you." The doctor motioned outside and lowered his voice to such a degree that Mr Darcy was forced to lean in to hear him. "I have informed your wife that she is doing extremely well and that she should deliver in April with few complications, God Bless her," Mr Darcy smiled, "but it is now come to pass that the child has grown so much as to prevent her from being comfortable, I suspect it has been so for some months?"

Mr Darcy only sighed in agreement.

"I thought as much. In any case sir, it is now your task and not her maid's to ensure she remains as comfortable as possible. I know you will be the person to whom she turns is she is troubled –"

"Sir, I have been concerned with her comfort for quite some time now."

"I know. It is not in my habit to tell the father to be the source of comfort for the mother, but your regard for your wife and hers for you is well-known, sir. More than you might know. I cannot emphasise enough how difficult this particular stage can be," Darcy's lips thinned at this and his posture tensed, "fortunately, Mrs Darcy is young, healthy and very indomitable. I have no doubt she will do quite well. Goodbye Mr Darcy, Mrs Darcy." The doctor shook his hand, tipped his hat to the Mistress and quitted the house. Mr Darcy was surprised to see a man of his age move with such purpose, until he reminded himself that the man held lives in his hand and decidedly forgave his quick pace.

He turned to his wife, and wondered very much how he was to cope with such a dramatic shift in the family dynamic: a child. There had not been a child at Pemberley since Georgiana and despite the knowledge that the entire household was excited to hear the coming pitter-patter of tiny feet, he was quite nervous. He had not a clue how to be a father. True, as Lizzy had pointed out, he is almost such a figure to his sister but Darcy had the feeling that this was going to be different, and he didn't see that gender made it easier either way: if it was a son, he would be expected to instill in him the manners of a gentleman, how to act in the presence of ladies, how to run, how to shoot, how to fish, how to handle the tenants and most importantly, he thought, how to please his mother: if it was a daughter, it would be equally as difficult, because he thought he should feel more protective of her than a son, but would not have the responsibility of teaching her how to be a lady, how to sew etc. She would be like her mother and he would be at a loss, a complete loss. Out of his thoughts he was soon drawn by the voice of his wife, entreating him to come and feel the baby kicking. He smiled as he felt the movements and came to the conclusion that it mattered not whether they had a son or a daughter, as long as he could kiss both the baby and the mother every day afterwards for the rest of his life.

Thursday 10thMarch 1814

1pm

"She is asleep." Declared Mr Darcy as he entered the parlour to the eager eyes and ears of his extended family, "I think she shall do so until we retire."

"Excellent, I thought she might. She has been quite tired of feeling tires, I think." Jane offered as she studiously sewing at her gift for the baby.

"I am quite pleased with your little gift there, Jane. It shall look quite well on a son." Mr Darcy sighed impatiently and his eye met with Mr Bennet's who stood to pour a much overdue brandy for his sons-in-law.

"Mrs Bennet, please let me make this clear to you," he paused to ensure she was listening, "Neither I, nor your daughter anticipate the gender of this baby. Furthermore, I certainly care not whether it is a son or a daughter. I assure you I cannot make up my mind which would be more difficult. If I ever do, I shall consult you immediately." Mr Bennet chuckled at this, deciding upon yet another good reason for consenting to this marriage: Lizzy had obviously taught him a joke or two.

"Well, Mr Darcy, I understand you. I was merely complimenting Jane's work. It is not my doing if her design does better for a boy than a girl, perhaps you should talk to her." Mrs Bennet sat back in her chair with her own knitting: a cap, blue.

"I assure you Mamma; I did not set on creating a gift that only had half a chance of being suitable." She looked at Mr Darcy and saw his agreement with her, "but I am glad you like it." Darcy and Bingley accepted their refreshments from Mr Bennet and continued in their own purposes: Bingley conversing with those who would join him, Darcy staring into the flames of the evening fire, Mr Bennet reading an extract from Pemberley's extensive library, Mary doing the same and the three remaining women undertaking the tasks of making presents to welcome the long-awaited child.

At length, it was Mr Bennet who addressed the subject that was at the forefront of everyone's minds. "How do you think she will do, Darcy?" He whispered low enough to allow his youngest daughters not to hear him as they were at another part of the room.

Fitzwilliam thought for a moment that he should say that he truly did not know and could not say any more. Upon further reflection he thought the better of it, though. He must say something of comfort to his wife's father. "She is confident, I will say that. If the birth itself goes as well as her term has, we shall be alright. Though of course, we are all nervous and my wife is not the least of us."

"Indeed she is not." Said Jane, looking up from her needle, "I have no doubt she shall come through, however. That is just in her nature and it is natural to be fearful of such a thing."

"Elizabeth had just that kind of an optimistic personality, especially where it concerns you, Darcy, that she will no doubt concentrate on the happy thought of the baby to help her through any uneasiness." Bingley's cheerful tones rang through to Darcy who, to his own surprise, blushed at the outspoken acknowledgment that Lizzy was chiefly pleased when she was around him.

"Indeed," came Mrs Bennet's voice which was considerately quiet, to everyone's pleasure, "Lizzy shall do perfectly well, I have no doubt of it. She has always seemed to me to be a good prospect for a mother." Mr Darcy was inwardly calmed at their quiet sincerity and confidence in his wife's ability. It frustrated him, however, that they were so peaceful where he was in turmoil: he simply could not stop thinking that not only was his heart sleeping with his wife upstairs, but that is would very soon be walking around outside his body, crashing and bumping into things. And there was nothing he could do about it.

11.38pm

They had been discernable for some time now, and yet every twist, turn and push, every little movement was like new to Elizabeth. It was a particular hobby of hers to lie still and wait to feel the baby move, as if she needed a pinch to ensure it really was there. Remaining still had been a regular habit for her as of late, due to her increasing size causing discomfort after the slightest bit of movement. She was now in the month before the baby would be born and yet she had felt restless recently, she was always aware of everything despite the constant reminders to relax, and the thought of having to wait above a month was giving Lizzy no little amount of unease. "And all because it is my first baby," she thought.

Subconsciously she felt a soft, repetitive motion on her cheek and drawing herself out of her thoughts, she opened her eyes to see her husband looking down at her. "You should lie in bed; it is only a few feet away."

"I know, but what a ridiculous thought: that I should be forced to move to another piece of equally comfortable furniture only to take up my present position."

He laughed at her comment, "it is much more comfortable in bed and you know that. Lizzy, I cannot carry you."

She sighed and sat up, with a considerable amount of help, "oh goodness no, it would hurt me more than anything. This baby is quite nicely stretched out and is currently pushing at my ribcage. It is quite considerate of it, you know."

"Cannot you move it? I know you make me push down upon it when I want to feel it move." He said, whilst helping her across the room.

"Oh I suppose, but I am told that it will settle in the right place in its own time and I am not to be impatient or it might suddenly change." She lay down on the bed, "much better, you were right."

"I must be, for with you I can never be wrong. Nor would I want to." With that, he kissed her softly: their lips coming together and apart several times before he extinguished the candles and returned to the other side of the bed, only to kiss her once more and lie next to her, ready to sleep.

Elizabeth was not so prepared. "William?"

Fitzwilliam unwillingly opened his eyes, "Yes?" was his reply.

"I want to know how you feel now we are close to the birth." He was surprised at the concern in her voice as he had not thought it was quite that close himself: another month or more they had been told.

"Lizzy, I – "

"Stop that." She interrupted him with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"What?"

"Do not answer me like that. I want to know what you think, truly. Even if your thoughts are nor coherent or disjointed, please tell me: I can comfort you as well you know."

He absent mindedly stroked her arm as he answered her, "I am more worried than I can possibly say. I cannot tell you why, but I am in a constant state of awareness and I feel that the baby should come soon."

She nodded and tenderly held his hand and kissed it, pausing just to gather her voice, "and how do you think I feel?"

He looked at her in the moonlight and saw tears glistening in her eyes and watched her as they fell rapidly down her cheeks. "Elizabeth," he attempted to clear her tears but saw that there were far more of them than him and so he settled for holding her protectively in his arms, "what has suddenly made you so frightened?"

"I am quite as aware as you and more confused as to why. My mother spoke to me today about . . . what to expect."

"Oh for god's sake, does that woman have no sense?"

"William, curb your tongue please. I do not want you to suddenly come into the habit of profanity when we are about to be parents. She . . . was only trying to be helpful."

"In the same way she was helpful about what you should do on our wedding night?" He raised his eyebrows but thought the better of expending his energy on a tired and unchanging subject. "Very well, Lizzy please listen to me. If Lady Catherine, your mother and the Queen can survive childbirth, then my dearest Elizabeth can do it ten times over. And consider my dear, we have another month to wait, give it time." She laughed heartily at his analogy and conceded that his answer was quite sound. They, consequently, returned to sleep, both of them absolutely convinced that they were resting on borrowed time.

Friday 11th March 1814

4am

It started as a small niggle in the back of her mind: the faint knowledge that something was sore and that it was coming again and again. As she slowly regained consciousness, Elizabeth realised this pain was not sourced in her head, but rather directly south at the base of her pelvis. A cramp, very small at first and it did not last long but a cramp nonetheless. Lizzy was wide awake now. It reminded her of the hiccups, the painful ones that often meant one could not speak for a lengthy amount of time. These cramps, like her fondly remembered hiccups, would come and go, and every time they ceased she felt relieved but anxious, as she knew it was only a matter of time before another came along. "Oomph," she breathed, no longer able to keep quiet under the pressure, and grasped at the sheets in an effort to silence her noises. This should not be happening. Another month, a whole extra month she had to prepare herself. "What are you playing at?" she thought to her baby in a vain attempt to hold off the cramps until April. As the pain subsided she looked at the clock. Almost five o'clock, this had been happening for almost an hour now and although she hated it, she absolutely knew she had to tell someone. And he was asleep next to her, blissfully unaware that his child was tediously punctual. "William," she said. No response and she could not get another breath out as the cramp doubled her as far over as her abdomen would allow. "Wil – ow . . . ooh." She grabbed at his hand and squeezed it as if trying to throw some of the pain onto him.

"Argh," he said as the pain registered and woke him with a start, "Lizzy what are you doing?" Anger fell from his face as he saw her struggling to breathe through the pain, "oh, Lizzy, what is it? It is not labour, surely?" And he laughed nervously at the prospect, but stopped when he saw utter fury on the face of his wife. "But, it is not for another month!"

"Why are you telling me that? I know! I am the one in pain, not you!" She was shouting now as it was the only way she could make any legible sounds at all. The cramp left her now, and she fell back onto the pillows in exhaustion. Fitzwilliam noticed beads of sweat on her forehead and realised someone else besides himself must be told.

"Who should I fetch?" He stroked her face and kissed it, holding her hand in support, "tell me what to do, Lizzy." She looked at him, smiling and kissed his hand, closing her eyes as she waited for the next cramp.

"Mrs Reynolds. There is not any need at this point to wake up the household, and the midwife need not be fetched, the water has not fallen." He did not know exactly what she meant by waters, but he ran to call for Mrs Reynolds and left her alone for only a moment. Though when he returned with the housekeeper, she was sat up and breathing through another pain, sweat now plainly visible on her face and neck. Fortunately his efficient staff had brought a cool cloth and water with her to at least ensure she was not hot.

"William," she cried out and he went to her, "it hurts." He was moved to tears as he could do nothing at all, nothing to help her as she clasped his hand at another cramp, and shut her eyes.

"Elizabeth, I love you, I love you very much." She smiled through the throbbing and he saw tears fall from her eyes as she wanted to laugh, but could only cry.

"Goodness," the voice of Mrs Reynolds came as she busied about the room, opening a window, gathering clean sheets and extinguishing the candles as the light poured in from outside: it was a beautiful sunrise but the housekeeper was focused on her ailing Mistress, "I had not thought they would come so fast and so early. I shall call your maid Ma'am. Do not be surprised if this labour moves faster than one, anyone would have thought." Mr and Mrs Darcy looked up at this, startled that it should be so soon.

"At this rate," they thought, "we shall be parents before breakfast."

"Why is it so early?"

"I do not know, Ma'am, but it sometimes is the case that children are bon early. Do not be alarmed, but you must relax. I cannot emphasise that enough." She bustled out of the room to call the midwife, leaving them alone.

"You know as well as I do that we do not have much time together." Said Lizzy with great effort, as her husband tried to shush her, "To that end, I have bought you something." He was genuinely shocked. She must have seen such surprise written all over his face, as he had taken no effort to hide it. Then: "In the drawer at my vanity table, there is your present." Fitzwilliam rose and opened the polished wooden drawer carefully and saw a handsomely wrapped paper package: it was deep red paper and tied with a white ribbon. "I tried not to make it blue," she said from her place, "Jane told me about your gallant speech to my mother." He laughed to himself and moved towards her, tenderly fingering the box.

"It is very handsome, Lizzy." He sat next to her and pulled out the ribbon as the paper revealed a black velvet case. He carefully prised open the lid to find eight Italian cigars.

"They are called Tuscanian Cigars and I am told they quite the most fashionable thing to smoke in the ton," she lifted one to examine its shape and highlighted to him the tapered end and thick middle which gave greater aroma. "They are for you, Charles and my father to smoke while you wait for our little one."

Darcy held the cigar himself. He recalled his first smoke: "When my mother was in labour with Georgiana, it had come two days before I was due to leave. Consequently, my father was with me in the front parlour. He was worried, I knew, about her. But he was also worried about me: I was too young to fully comprehend the situation and so to comfort me, he gave me one of these."

"You were ten!"

"It mattered not. I hated it and I only had my next at university." He drew breath and inhaled the scent of the tobacco. "It reminds me of my parents." He stopped reminiscing as he saw she was experiencing another cramp, but he held her hand again, swept hair from her face and neck and pressed the cool cloth to keep her temperature down.

6.33am

Lizzy simply could not believe her situation. She vividly remembered how unhappy she had been when she thought she could never see Mr Darcy again: she loved him and she had done, at that point, for longer than she realised. She wanted to marry him and have him look at her the way he had done at Pemberley. When she discovered his helping her sister she was balled over by his generosity, and when he returned to Hertfordshire she spent the majority of their time together trying to avoid his eye in case he should remember how inconsequential she was. But Lizzy also recalled the overwhelming joy when he had told her that his efforts were in her honour, that he still loved her and that he wanted to marry her, still. Now, she was carrying his child – but not for much longer. The cramps were coming harder and lasting for longer now. She had brought herself some relief by walking about the room but that was an increasing difficulty as she could not remain standing when the cramps came. It broke her heart to see him watching her in labour, but he did not falter: he held her up, helped her sit down and lie back and made sure she was as comfortable as possible.

"William, you really needn't do this," she said during intermittence from the cramps.

"You do not want me to?"

"No! Not at all, that is not what I meant, only that I don't want you to have a magnified fear of this . . . situation."

"I am anxious Lizzy, but I will not deny that I am frightened. How could I not be? You are hurting."

"It is natural, you said yourself that many women before have done this, and I am no different." He handed her to the bed and knelt down beside her, kissing her hand. It reminded Lizzy of the time during their engagement that he had taken up the persona of a lovesick suitor and proposed to her dramatically: begging her forgiveness and passionately kissing her hand in testimony of his love for her. She, in response, had kissed him: their first kiss.

"You are my wife, my Elizabeth and I cannot lose you." His face fell and she felt her heart breaking again.

"You are breaking my heart, Fitzwilliam. See" and she placed his hand on her abdomen, "it is only a baby, and it loves you very much." They kissed until she was overcome with another cramp and he held her hand while she wrung the bones to breaking point.

"Try walking again, Mrs Darcy. It might encourage the labour along." Mrs Reynolds stepped into the room with fresh water and a clean cloth. Mrs Darcy's maid, Judith, carried fresh towels and draped them over the chairs near the newly lit fire to warm them.

"Come, Lizzy." He helped her up again and they walked the perimeter of the room albeit very laboriously.

"Mr Darcy?" Mrs Reynolds inquired. "I would appreciate this time with your wife as much as possible if I were you. I am being generous at this point in allowing you to stay, the midwife certainly shall not."

"I assure you I value every second with her, whether she is in labour or not." Lizzy leant her head against him in thanks and pressed his hand.

"Take the old water away, Judith," she instructed the maid who did as she was asked, "How do you feel, ma'am?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath before answering, "I feel tired, of that much I am certain." She sat down and massaged her back. "I cannot get comfortable, I feel as though every position is limited."

"Tis natural, ma'am and it will only get more uncomfortable. But if discomfort is all you feel then you are lucky. It perhaps means however that this will be a long labour and that is good. I will tell you that an early birth is not what we had been hoping for, although it is not uncommon. Be patient." Lizzy nodded at her words and continued to walk with the support of her husband, the words 'not what we had been hoping for' ringing in her ears.

In the silence that followed, Darcy's voice shot through it like a sword, "Lizzy, what is that?"

She followed his gaze to her feet, where there was a clear fluid pooling. "I – I cannot . . . I do not – Mrs Reynolds?"

"Yes ma'am?"

"What is happening?" Mrs Reynolds expressions did not grow concerned as she knelt to examine the substance, only more informed. "What is it?" Lizzy asked again.

"It is the waters, they have come, and now I must call the midwife. I am afraid your pains will only get worse." She handed the panic-stricken Mistress a fresh gown, told the Master to get Judith to clean up when she returned and darted out of the room.

"William?" The weary voice of Elizabeth pierced the silence again.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

7.47am

The midwife hired by the Darcy's was quite unsurprisingly well-respected and efficient. She had met on several occasions with Mr and Mrs Darcy where they learned that her young face did not betray her years of experience: the youngest child of twelve others, she delivered her first child for her eldest sister at the age of eleven and assisted in every birth that followed "as my family's station in life," she explained "did not allow us to afford help from outside, we needed every form of aid available. I became experienced in the field, so to speak. Ma'am, sir, I assure you that not only do I have excellent experience in my position, but I try my utmost to make the first days of every new life as wonderful as possible . . . for every family member," she looked pointedly at both mother and father.

When Mrs Ian-Jones walked purposefully into the Master quarters at Pemberley she did what she always had done and surveyed the room to decide what had to be done, despite being slightly thrown at an early morning call a whole month before she had expected such a summons: firstly, she saw the Mistress on her side in the middle of cramp being comforted by her husband. Evidently, she could no longer stand which was a clear indication of increasing labour although it did not necessarily mean the baby would shift in the immediate future. There was a problem in that the husband was still there, he must be removed but she saw such knowledge in his eyes although there was fear there also. As it was, the rest was as expected: the housekeeper and the maid were cooling the room by putting out the fire and opening other windows. The air was still and fresh and excellent for keeping the room at a steady temperature throughout the birth.

"Mr Darcy?" Mrs Ian-Jones addressed the Master clearly.

"Yes ma'am, I shall leave. Give us a moment."

"I shall, sir." She went about making herself scarce for a while.

"My dearest and loveliest Elizabeth," she smiled at his echoing the words he first said upon their engagement, "I cannot believe we are here."

"I can. I can tell you when you asked me to marry you that I would not have said yes unless I knew I wanted to be a parent with you."

"You have been a mother all this time, I think."

She smiled, "indeed I have, and now you should go . . . you must prepare for becoming a father." She kissed him softly and they sat cheek to cheek for several seconds, before he stood and picked up his package, walking reluctantly to the door.

"I love you too, Lizzy."

8am

Darcy rang for his valet as he entered his dressing room and had the man tested on his dressing skills as he readied himself for breakfast to ensure he was there before anyone. They would therefore know without him having to speak that something had happened. He wandered into the breakfast room in the direction he assumed from experience was the seat at the head of the table and thankfully on this occasion he was correct and landed safely in an upright position. Darcy held his head in his hands: he was so tired, and yet he felt guilty for feeling so because he had no right while his wife had to cope with giving birth. And god knows how long she was in pain before she woke him. "Long enough to ascertain it was not isolated pain, probably." He thought to himself.

In the distance, the sound of voices came from what Darcy could only assume was upstairs, and he prepared his vacant expression. Within a few minutes, Jane walked into the room looking fresh-faced and free-spirited. "That is how my Lizzy should look." He thought, and then realised that his wife would likely want her sister with her when she gave birth. And so he looked her directly in the eye when she sat down with Georgiana and Bingley.

"Fitzwilliam, whatever is the matter?" Jane inquired with a perfectly justified look of curiosity on her face.

Then Georgiana spoke, having noticed the difference in the breakfast party this morning. "Are you not eating with Lizzy this morning?"

"Perhaps she is tired; she does have a good reason for feeling so." Jane offered.

"Well, it is lovely to have you eat with us, Darcy." Bingley said, happily.

"Indeed, brother. A most wonderful surprise, although I do miss eating with Elizabeth."

"Fitzwilliam, why do you look like that?" Jane was on her toes now: she knew and she could feel something was wrong and yet, he looked overjoyed, he had a stupid grin on his face which he was desperately trying to conceal. "What is Elizabeth doing?"

"At the moment, I cannot tell you. When I left her, however, she had been in labour for more than two hours." Jane's expression was priceless and Darcy wished he had some way of recording it to show Lizzy later. Georgiana and Bingley stared at him open-mouthed with barely controlled excitement on their faces.

"Goodness, what a time!" Georgiana exclaimed. "We had not thought she was due until April!"

"Nobody did." Darcy explained, sipping his coffee. "Least of all Elizabeth and she had mentioned feeling some kind of nervous anticipation."

"She is delivering over a month early; you do not think there will be anything wrong do you?" Jane's voice rang out with disquiet and her face showed the same.

"I do not know. I sincerely hope not, but though both Mrs Reynolds and the midwife were thrown, they did not look alarmed and I have been assured that such an early birth is not uncommon." He held his head back in his hands. "Of course, I am terrified. I have never felt more helpless in my entire life." Darcy felt a hand on his shoulder and the soothing voice of his sister-in-law.

"I will go to her now. And more than that, I shall report her progress to you myself." Darcy nodded and kissed her hand in thanks.

"I would be very grateful, Jane, thank you."

"Please darling, give her our love." Bingley said as he stood to kiss his wife goodbye.

"I certainly shall." And she left to attend to her sister.

"Well, brother," Georgiana said after Jane had left, "and what do you want to do today?" She teased.

"I must give myself an occupation or I will be driven to insanity."

"Perhaps," Bingley suggested, "you might send an express to the Gardiners inviting them to join us: that was the plan. You might also think of informing your other extended family."

"Whom do you mean?" Georgiana inquired.

"The Fitzwilliams, your cousins and Lady Catherine would be thrilled to hear the news." Darcy gave him a dark look at this. "Do not give me such a look. I am well aware of your fervent dislike but she did come to Pemberley and was civil to you, all was she not? And she does have a right to know. You cannot avoid it, and perhaps a baby is exactly what is needed to bring the family together."

Darcy knew he was right, of course, and set upon the task, however grudgingly, of informing his relatives.

8.16am

"Lizzy?" Jane entered her sisters' rooms to an unexpected scene: she had assumed the room would be in chaos with her sister inconsolable and the staff trying desperately to calm her. On the contrary, Elizabeth was silent. She was lying on her side, awake, but one could easily have assumed she was dosing in and out. Mrs Reynolds and a woman whom Jane could only guess was the midwife were almost asleep at her side. "This is going to be a long labour, I think." She thought to herself.

"Relax . . . breathe through the pain . . . you're doing very well," Jane turned her attention back to her sister and saw the young maid, Judith, kneeling by the bed and holding Elizabeth's hand. "Think of your beautiful baby," and Lizzy laughed through her grimace, "I would bet he is very handsome, ma'am."

"Why do you assume it is a boy?" Elizabeth said after her pain had left her.

"I have always felt it was a boy." She laughed at her own naivety, "Well, perhaps it is just my imagination."

"Would you be disappointed if it is a girl?"

"Not at all, ma'am: she would be very much like you, I think, and the master would not know what to do! That would be fun to watch."

Lizzy laughed, then said: "Yes indeed it would, he would love her more than anything."

"Certainly, ma'am, but I think that true regardless of the sex."

"Indeed."

"If I may say so, ma'am, he loves you more than anything." Lizzy pressed Judith's hand and thanked her. Then, looking up, she caught sight of Jane standing in the doorway.

"Jane!" The addressed woman moved towards her sister. "How does my husband fare? Is he crawling up the walls with boredom yet?"

Jane giggled. "Give him a few more hours. I do believe Charles told me he would advise him to write to your extended family."

"It is a good idea and much more amusing than this, I think."

"Out of the two of us, Lizzy, I think you are in more of a position to judge that than I." Elizabeth smiled and Jane pulled a chair closer to the bed, taking up Judith's previous role as her sister's comforter. "Although I must tell you, Lizzy, I am quite excited."

"Good. Someone should be."

"What do you mean by that, Lizzy? Surely you are looking forward to the end of this?"

"Of course I am! But it feels so far away at the moment that I am more impatient than anything. I am not frightened, as some would think, especially my husband. These pains have come so often now that I can cope quite amiably."

"I admire you, Lizzy."

"Thank you, Jane. It means a great deal to me." They sat in silence for a while until Lizzy spoke again, "Jane, how long do you think we have before mama comes?"

Jane's brow furrowed and she glanced at her watch, "I do not know exactly. I would say any moment now."

Suddenly, Elizabeth's voice dropped to whisper and she eyed the sleeping figures of Mrs Reynolds and Mrs Ian-Jones. "Jane, I need youto help me through this."

"Lizzy, you know I will."

"I want you to keep hold of my hand and take the baby from the midwife and hand it to me. I want to see him." Lizzy was now struggling to speak for lack of air: another cramp was on its way and she closed her eyes once again and went silent.

"I promise, Lizzy." Jane said, as she saw what pain her sister was in. "I will do that."

10.02am

Darcy handed the last of the letters to a footman and instructed him to send them, express, to their respective owners. He had heard the steps of Mrs Bennet enter the breakfast room and then quickly exit, only to run up the stairs and, he knew, to his wife. He had heard nothing else. No screams, no moans, no shouting. Exactly what he had not expected, and the frustrating thing was that he did not know if hearing such noises would make him feel any better. He supposed they would not at first, but then as least he would have been aware of some kind of progress. As it was, there seemed to be none at all. Then again, such sounds would have been disturbing and he would not know how to handle hearing Lizzy in that way.

"Mr Darcy?"

"Jane's voice" he thought, "No, it cannot be!"

"Mr Darcy? May I come in?"

"Yes," he said quickly. Jane walked lightly to his desk and smiled. His face fell upon seeing no baby in her arms.

"Before I begin, as you can already see, the baby is not here yet." He nodded and sat back, "however, Lizzy is doing very well."

"In what way is she doing well?"

"She is . . . very quiet. Perhaps you have noticed."

"Yes. The silence is not much of a comfort though it may be preferable to noise."

"The midwife told me she has never seen a first-time mother so calm, but then, that is Lizzy."

"What do you mean?"

"She has always dealt with pain that way. When she was stung as a child she never made a sound: mamma thought she had been struck dumb." Darcy laughed. "Obviously that was not the case. With Lizzy, the worse the pain, the quieter she gets. I think she puts all her energy into just seeing through every cramp. According to the midwife, it's the best way." Darcy nodded in understanding, finding it hard to imagine her in agony. "And," Darcy looked up again, "according to Mrs Reynolds, it is what your mother did." He caught his breath: his mother whom he remembered being healthy before she had Georgiana but the amount of energy it took out of her eventually killed her. She did not see her daughter beyond her second year and even those days were long and she was always exhausted.

"My mother,"

"Yes, except Lizzy, between every pain, talks about you, about the baby, the family, her friends and everything."

Darcy exhaled, "my mother could barely keep her eyes open. She was in and out of consciousness."

Jane smiled and walked towards the door. "Lizzy said that would cheer you up."

12noon

As the clock struck noon, every eye was turned to a timepiece: in the drawing room, those not permitted to be in the birthing room sat in silence. Not primarily out of fear, rather boredom and in want of something interesting to say: in the master rooms, the Mother, the Grandmother, the Aunt, the Midwife, the Housekeeper and the servant watched the hands roll by. Every second was a minute, every hour . . . a day.

3pm

"Mrs Darcy?" An almost inaudible voice spoke to Elizabeth in the quiet of her mind. She opened her eyes and saw every other figure was asleep.

She replied, therefore in an equally silent whisper, "Yes Mrs Ian-Jones."

"I thought we had agreed you were to call me Anna. Mrs Ian-Jones is too much for a woman in labour."

"Yes . . . yes we had. What is it Anna?"

"I want you to tell me the very second you feel the need to push."

"What do I need to push?" Elizabeth yawned tiredly, not bothering to try.

The woman smiled, or so Elizabeth thought in the darkness. "The baby, remember?"

"Yes, yes. I am sorry. I am tired, that it all."

"I know, my dear. Give me your word now, will you tell me when you feel the need to push?"

"Yes, I give you my word."

6pm

Jane Bingley stood at the door of the dining room at Pemberley. In front of her, seated anxiously awaiting whatever it was she had to say, was her brother, her sisters, her father and her husband.

"Well?" Darcy's impatient voice rose and addressed her, however shortly.

"Everything is going smoothly." Darcy sighed, frustrated. "Do not assume that the baby will be born today, or even tomorrow."

"Is there not any certainty as to when it will arrive?" Georgiana held her brother's hand, asking the question on his behalf and in a more courteous manner than Jane thought the man himself would have done.

"I'm afraid not, Georgiana. It could be born any moment, or it could be a few more days. These things are irritatingly unpredictable, especially with a first."

Jane saw her father's face: washed in misery and exasperation. He missed his daughter and he wanted to see that she was alright, but his daughter was faster on her toes than he, "Is Lizzy well?" Mary wondered.

Jane made an effort to smile. "Yes, she is, under the circumstances. In fact, Fitzwilliam, she told me that you had better smoke your cigars tonight as the baby may not wait for much longer." Mr Bennet clearly found this highly amusing and chuckled, eyeing his son-in-law. "At least someone is confidant about the time of birth." Jane finished.

Sunday 13th March 1814

3.22am

Elizabeth lay wide awake in her bed, gazing across the woods of Pemberley through the open windows. It was a beautiful sight, the early morning sky. Her mind had been dwelling on her mother. How she had not noticed her presence for almost seven minutes because she was so industrious. It was upon watching her mother helping cool the room, holding her hand, reassuring her that Lizzy realised she had never truly seen Mrs Bennet as a mother. Here, while one of her children was hurting she was a proper maternal figure, without any superfluous qualities. Despite reluctance to even have the woman in the room with her at first; Elizabeth had to admit that her figure across the room, holding a child's gown that she had lovingly stitched was a soothing thought.

Slowly, Lizzy felt a dull pain in her thighs and assumed it was a cramp. But this did not feel like the others and it was not a pain, more of an urge. "Oooph," She breathed.

3.24am

Darcy stood at an open window, staring up at the windows of the master quarters. She was up there in labour, and he so desperately wanted to see her face. He realised that they had not been apart for such a time since the day they were married. "I would vow never to be apart this much again," he thought, "but that will be impossible when we have more children." More of this seemed interminable, but he knew that once they had seen this through, he would be able to do it again quite well. "Yes, but that is what you thought before you asked her to marry you, again."

*WARNING: This scene may be unsuitable for younger readers*

3.27am

"Anna? Anna, wake up, please." Lizzy whispered as loudly as she could to the woman sleeping in the chair on her right without waking the others.

Anna stirred. "Elizabeth, what is it?"

"I . . . I feel like pushing." Lizzy could say no more, she was incapacitated by another searing pain but again she made no noise – except deep and tremendously laboured breathing.

"Alright, Jane, wake up, you must keep talking to your sister all the time, even if she does not reply." Anna's mind seemed to do a thousand things at once as she went about the room swiftly but silently giving each person a crucial role in the final few minutes of labour: "Mrs Reynolds I want you standing behind me with warm towels from the fireplace, ready to clean and wrap the baby. Judith, it is your task to clean the sheets during the birth as best you can: there will be blood so keep your wits about you." She turned to Mrs Bennet, "you ma'am, are here to comfort your daughter. You have experience and she trusts you."

Jane looked at her sister: Lizzy was yet again in another cramp and she had not realised that her deep breathing had turned into moans from the back of her throat. "Keep breathing, Lizzy. Concentrate on that."

Unbeknownst to Jane, Lizzy had entirely shut off the rest of the world: she had only left a small line of communication open for Anna. With her eyes closed, she waited through the urge. "I want to push!" Lizzy forced out between breaths.

"I know, but you must wait for the next cramp. Don't rush it; you'll only hurt yourself and your baby." Lizzy moaned a little again but fell silent quickly, the room filled now with Anna's quiet instructions and nervous breathing from everyone. "Right," she said as she folded down the bedcovers, "Lizzy, listen to me. I need you to spread your legs apart as far as you can." Lizzy did so, but could not lie on her side and hold her legs up simultaneously and so Jane did it for her. It was not exactly a picture of modesty, but Elizabeth was comfortable with her sister holding her hand and her leg.

Suddenly another cramp forced Lizzy's muscles to contract and push. "Can . . . can I push?"

"Yes, go ahead." Anna said, surprisingly calmly. Lizzy did as she was told and gave in to her urge, but it was not quite as satisfying as she had hoped: yes the urge was gone, but a whole new pain arose at the base of her pelvis and she knew as every mother does, that it was her child's fault. Even then, however, she made no sound, only breathed arduously. "Good, very good."

"Keep breathing Elizabeth, it will help." Mrs Bennet's words of support floated through Lizzy's barrier and she took more breaths in an effort to keep going, but found that she could not.

"Wait," she managed to say, "I cannot keep going."

"Nobody expects you to, Elizabeth." Mrs Bennet said while wiping her daughter's brow with a cool cloth.

"Your mother is right. Wait for the next contraction now."

Unfortunately, the urge to push returned swiftly and Lizzy was in no mind to deny herself any small pleasure she was offered. And so she pushed.

"Very well, it seems you have a wilful daughter Mrs Bennet."

"She has always been so, Anna."

"I see something, I think. Mrs Reynolds?"

The housekeeper moved closer and confirmed what Anna had suspected, "A head."

"What?" Lizzy shot back into the room, abandoning her silent world.

"Do not focus on that, your concern is pushing and breathing when it feels right, ma'am. Concentrate please." Lizzy reluctantly returned to her sanctuary but realised the vast benefits when the next pain cramped her again.

"Lizzy, I am so proud of you!" Jane exclaimed, briefly reminding her silent sister of the true excitement of their situation.

Lizzy relaxed again after the pain had dulled for a moment and addressed her sister, "Jane, it is not over yet. Tell me that when I hold my baby in my arms." Another push and she felt she would never complain about a bee sting ever again: it was unlike anything and she felt no reaction would be suitable to fit her pain, so she kept quiet and carried on breathing and pushing.

"Lizzy that is excellent, keep going . . . keep going." Anna's calm words of confidence urged Lizzy on until she thought something was horribly wrong: the stretching pain had gone but she felt her pelvis closing in a sharp rush of pain. In the split second before reality dawned, Lizzy's heart skipped a beat.

"Elizabeth," the soft voice of her sister broke through her panic and Lizzy opened her eyes. Without warning, the cries of a baby reached her ears and she sat stunned, until she realised those cries were from her baby. She knew not what to do – and so she laughed and, joining her baby, she cried. Looking around the room, she followed the source of the sound to Mrs Reynolds, who was, she noticed, cleaning a rather large amount of black hair.

"Congratulations, ma'am." Judith's sweet little voice was recognised by Elizabeth, but she did not turn her head, "You have a son."

"A son," whispered Lizzy. Carefully, Mrs Reynolds placed a little bundle next to Elizabeth. She savoured every inch of him, from his pink skin to his shocking amount of jet black curls.

"Lizzy," said Jane, "I am so proud of you." Downstairs, at the door to the drawing room, Mr Darcy stood, straining to hear another second of the sound he was positive he had just heard.

4.15am

"Are you absolutely convinced you heard something, Darcy?" Bingley asked exasperatedly yet again. He was growing concerned that the man was inventing things just to give him something to do. "It might have been an animal."

"I am not imagining things, Bingley. I heard something."

"Yes, something. You do not know what it was." Darcy walked away from the door and towards his sister.

"Oh Fitzwilliam, you always did warn me against wishful thinking." Georgiana nevertheless took up the role of gatekeeper and stood by the door.

"Perhaps you should try sleeping." Kitty offered.

"I cannot sleep. If she is not sleeping, I am not sleeping." Mr Bennet watched this scene from an armchair by the fireplace and shook his head in amusement.

"Darcy, you will wear yourself out. I still remember waiting for Lizzy to arrive." His sons-in-law actually laughed at this: a welcome relief from the frustration. Georgiana, however, was engrossed in what she saw descending the stairs.

"Brother, you might want to see this." In a moment, he was beside her and, following her gaze, was immediately frozen in place. Upon seeing his expression, Bingley, Mr Bennet, Mary and Kitty were up and staring at the door. Georgiana and Darcy stepped back to allow Jane to enter with her precious bundle, and as they did so, the infant shouted out in impatience, and those in the room grinned until it hurt.

"I think he wants to meet his father." Jane said softly, cautiously passing the baby to Darcy.

"What did you say?" Darcy asked.

"He wants to meet you." Darcy looked down the babe, who only gurgled in greeting. "You have a son."

6am

Darcy entered the master rooms as the sun rose. Normally the beautiful design of the room would fill his mind, but not today. On this occasion, he had eyes for none other than his exhausted and physically and emotionally drained wife, Elizabeth and their son.

"Good morning, William. Did you enjoy your cigars?" Her voice was such a relief to him: he had not anticipated it to be so and yet he knew he should have having been so worried about her. Seeing that she was well, if not perfect, was enough to sustain him for the moment, however.

"I do believe you have excellent taste in tobacco, madam." He said, moving toward her. "Elizabeth," He looked at her as he at beside her on the bed: she was propped up slightly, but quite clearly had been sleeping sporadically. "I did not mean to wake you."

"You did no such thing. I was waiting for you." She tried to pull herself up, but her recent exercises had given her muscle fatigue, and she could not sustain such a movement. "Ow,"

"Lizzy, don't do that, what do you want?"

Lizzy blushed sheepishly, "I wanted to kiss you." Darcy laughed and gave in to her desires.

"Oh William, I missed you so." She was happy to see him: there was no better word for it. She had never felt to content in her life. Yet she knew when she fell in love with him that she could only realise such a feeling at his side.

He leaned toward her and whispered "And I you," before meeting his lips with hers. Their reunion was short-lived, however, when another cry of protest came from a crib near the window. "I do not think he wants to share you." Lizzy laughed and held back tears as she watched her husband handle their son and then place him in her arms.

"He is so handsome." She said, brushing a few stray curls from the face of the dosing baby. "Like his father."

"Perhaps he is, but he will be just like his mother: wilful and persuasive and I will have no power over him."

"I think you know you have a very great power over me, and if he is as his mother, at least you know he will love you so much that it hurts."

Darcy kissed her again. "The feeling is mutual."

"I cannot believe how much I love him. And it is not even as if my love has been split between the two of you."

"It has expanded." He finished her sentence and kissed her once more, letting the sleeping infant wrap a little hand round his finger.

"Exactly." She said, sighing and closing her eyes.

"What is the matter, Lizzy?" He asked when he saw her brow furrow.

She sat up, looked at their son and panicked for a moment. Then, looking at her husband she addressed the only issue that had not occurred to either of them. "Fitzwilliam . . . what do we do with him now?"