Disclaimer: I have never given birth myself so I don't pretend to know how it feels.

Chapter 9: December 1814

Jane hid her fear under an encouraging smile. "I will help you to your room," she said calmly, though her eyes were apprehensive. "It may be a false alarm."

Still supporting her sister, she turned to Georgiana. "Have your brother called back at once. You can tell a servant where to find him and Charles."

Georgiana nodded and ran.

Once in Elizabeth's room, Jane assisted her to her bed and propped her up with several pillows. Lizzy's face was still very white, and her eyes were wide and frightened.

She said nervously, "What if the baby comes today?"

Jane knew only that Elizabeth should not be alarmed and so she said comfortingly, "Then we shall manage quite well. Do not worry Lizzy. It cannot be helped."

Lizzy lay back with a small nod, but she was biting her lip in anxiety.

Jane crossed to the window and looked out impatiently. It was too soon to expect the men's return but she looked anyway. The sight of the muddy, icy ground did nothing to improve her mood.

Lizzy gave a little cry and twisted in pain on the bed. Jane was by her side immediately. When this contraction had passed, Jane took a cloth and began to wipe Lizzy's forehead gently, for she was sweating, despite the cold outside.

It struck Jane that Lizzy would be more comfortable in a nightgown so she helped her sister undress and don a simple wrapper.

Ten minutes passed in silence. Then, a commotion was heard in the hall below and a moment later, Darcy was in the room, still yanking off hat and gloves. He threw them aside hastily and knelt beside the bed.

Elizabeth smiled weakly and reached for his cold hand.

"Lizzy," he cried in a horse whisper. "Jane, what is going on? Tell me."

Before Jane could reply, Elizabeth gave a gasp and clutched Fitzwilliam's hand so tightly he thought she would break every bone in it.

Jane looked at the distraught husband with a worried face. "I don't think the baby is going to wait any longer," she said hesitantly.

"But the midwife hasn't arrived; the baby's not due for another two weeks," he said in a strangled voice.

"Neither of those things alter the facts," Jane returned resignedly.

An hour passed with contractions every fifteen minutes or so. Lizzy was almost unconscious. She drifted between sleeping and waking, brought to every so often by an extra strong rush of pain that made her whole body tighten together in order to bear it.

Fitzwilliam was still kneeling beside her. She had not released his hand and it was red and sore from being squeezed.

A servant had been sent for the doctor, but he was unlikely to arrive soon, the hour's ride to Lambton being doubled by the bad condition of the road, making a four hour round trip. Bingley, preferring action to waiting downstairs, had gone out to the road again, hoping against hope to see the coach bearing the midwife coming down the icy thoroughfare.

There was something nagging at the back of Lizzy's mind, but she was in too much pain to try to think clearly.

A knock sounded in the stillness between contractions. Fitzwilliam pulled his hand free, jumped up and had the door flung open in an instant. Bingley stepped back a pace.

"Is she here?" Darcy demanded. "Or the doctor?"

"No," Charles replied regretfully. "I rode some way along the road and my horse slipped on the ice once and nearly lamed itself. It is impossible for the midwife to come until it melts some Darcy. You know that getting down the drive was hard enough. I thought you would go down for sure, racing back like that when the servant came for you."

Darcy leaned wearily against the door. "No sign of the doctor either?"

"None. It is too soon to expect him anyway."

Darcy cursed himself under his breath. "I should have planned this better," he groaned, dropping his head.

Charles gave him an attempt at a smile. "Well, I am downstairs if you need me. Georgiana is also eager for news."

"Fitzwilliam?" Elizabeth's voice came faintly from the bed.

He was by her side in an instant. "What is it Lizzy?"

"Mrs. Moore," she whispered. "Mrs. Moore will come."

Darcy looked blank. "Who?" he asked her gently.

The aching, tearing pain was beginning again. It was drowning her. She couldn't see or hear anything but the roaring in her ears. "In the village." she gasped and then clutched the bedpost as the only stable thing in an ocean of pain.

Jane's soothing hands were on her head and her gentle voice came though the blackness, "You are doing well Lizzy, and you are strong and brave. Stay with me Lizzy."

She stayed.

Darcy had heard her final words and rushed out of the room and down the hall, past a startled Charles. He ran to the entrance without putting on his coat. Bingley caught him halfway out the door.

"Darcy this is madness! Put on your coat," he commanded in a tone most unlike his usual good-natured one.

The burst of cold air on his face had brought Darcy to his senses and he turned back to grab his coat.

Georgiana ran into the hall and caught his arm. "Where are you going?" she asked breathlessly. "How is Lizzy?"

"Georgiana," her brother began earnestly as he fumbled with the buttons of his coat. "Do you remember Mrs. Moore in the village?"

"Yes, her house was the one that caught fire last spring," she said. Her face lit up. "Oh, Fitzwilliam! She is a midwife. I remember Lizzy talking to her now, but it was so long ago I forgot."

Fitzwilliam was already gone. Bingley hurried after him. "Darcy let me or one of the servants go."

"No," he said. "I am no good to her in there right now and I must do something. I know just where she lives too and can tell her the state of things on our way back."

They reached the stable and Darcy saddled Ulysses himself, too impatient to let anyone else do it. He mounted in a moment and rode off at a canter in the direction of the village, the brave horse stepping carefully to avoid slipping on the treacherous ice.

The contractions were coming every ten minutes now. Mrs. Reynolds had offered her assistance to Jane, who gratefully accepted after confirming with her sister who could only nod gratefully. The worthy housekeeper had born three children of her own which gave her some experience. Both women were secretly in dread of the responsibility for the safety of mother and child now thrust upon them.

I will never forgive myself, Jane thought in a moment of dejection, if Lizzy should die.

Mrs. Reynolds was thinking of sweet Anne Darcy, who had died of complications shortly after Georgiana's birth.

Darcy's mind was running along those the same lines as Ulysses struggled to keep his footing. He had to guide the horse carefully and did his best to keep his thoughts on the slippery path, but to no avail.

If Lizzy should suffer the same fate as his mother, her death would be on his shoulders.

So used was Darcy to carrying all the responsibility that there was no blaming the weather or the midwife or God. The fault must be all his own.

He cut off the path, found the opening in the hedge, and rode through and thence across a field. This shortcut was only slightly less slippery, the grass being flattened and brown from the long week of rain. From there one had only to remove a fence rail and one was in the village. He pushed Ulysses a little faster. There it was. The house at the end, with the new walls just starting to turn grey.

He jumped off and hammered at the door. Mrs. Moore opened it and the expression of shock in her wrinkled face was evident as she beheld the Master of Pemberley, with a wild look in his eyes, standing outside her door.

"Mr. Darcy!" she gasped.

"Mrs. Moore…" and in a few moments he had acquainted her with the general situation.

She bustled into the house and gathered a few things together while Darcy and his horse waited impatiently.

"You were right to bring only the one horse," she said as she reappeared. "I wouldn't know how to manage one."

"The state of the ground would make riding difficult for the most experienced of horsemen," Darcy replied as they began to walk quickly up the road. "I was hoping you would ride and I could lead the horse. Then all you would have to do is hold on."

"It's not quite proper," she said with one of her twinkling smiles, "for you to walk an' me to ride. But I suppose under the circumstances it would be best."

Darcy helped her mount and set off at a fast walk for home.

"You can turn off here and cut across," she said, pointing to the shortcut.

Darcy turned to look at her with his hand already on the fence rail. "I was just going to turn there myself," he said. "I always went across that way to get to the village when I was a boy."

"Yes," she said, "Now that I think of it, it was you as showed it to me, when you were a lad only ten or eleven."

This little shared knowledge of the secret of the fence rail and hedge gap made him feel a ridiculous sense of confidence in the old woman. It wasn't a rational feeling as he told himself, but it was there anyway. He led on, with a firmer step.

In another half hour they had reached Pemberley house. Bingley and Georgiana hurried out and Darcy ran upstairs, leaving them to show Mrs. Moore the way.

The scene, as he opened the door to Elizabeth's room, was much the same as when he had left. Lizzy cried out and Jane turned to him with an exhausted, hot, and very worried face.

"Darcy! Did you bring her?"

"Yes," he was on his knees beside Elizabeth, stroking the hair back from her damp forehead.

"Oh! Thank God," Jane gasped in relief. "Where is she?" But Mrs. Moore was already in the room. Lizzy cried out again.

The midwife turned to Jane, "Contractions every few minutes now?"

"Yes."

Mrs. Moore turned to Darcy, still bent anxiously over his wife. She said in a business-like tone, "You better leave me look at her now, Sir." He rose and stepped back a pace. "Well, go on," she said, waving her hands in the direction of the door.

He opened his mouth to protest, shut it and turned away despairingly. He cast one last, longing look at his Lizzy as he went out. It might be the last time he saw her alive.

Mrs. Reynolds followed him out and gave him an encouraging smile and light touch on his shoulder as she passed. Fitzwilliam lent against the wall and listened quietly. Georgiana came up the stairs softly and put her arms around him. He sighed heavily.

"Come down and sit with us," she invited. He nodded and followed her slowly.

In the parlor, Bingley was sitting quietly. Darcy slumped into a chair beside him and Georgiana took a place near the door. The waiting commenced in earnest.