Author's Note: Wrapping it up. Let me know what you think, and again, if anyone is familiar with the Scottish dialogue and wants to offer some advice on how to fix William's dialogue, it would be much appreciated.
Chapter 22
It should not be assumed that all was peaceful between the couple. Every so often, the combination of Elizabeth's sense of independence along with her heightened pregnancy hormones clashed with William's tenancy to command those around him, leading to an argument or two.
One afternoon a few days before their Thanksgiving meal, William came home early from work and, in his eagerness to protect Elizabeth and their unborn child, overstepped those boundaries between the two. "Elizabeth, you should be resting. Let someone else handle the arrangements for our guests," he urged, concern etched on his face.
"I'm perfectly capable of managing, William. I don't want to be coddled," she snapped, her frustration palpable, exacerbated in part due to the ache in her back.
After some time, she admitted to her aches and he did eventually convince her to rest, with a kiss and the promise of a full body massage. A week later, he found a masseur who specialised in pre-natal massage and arranged for her to treat his wife weekly as long as she could.
Not long after that, they had another argument over the placement of a particularly delicate mobile in the nursery. Elizabeth, fueled by her nesting instinct, had a specific idea in mind which did not mesh with William's.
"William, I think it would look better hanging by the window, catching the sunlight," Elizabeth suggested, her eyes sparkling with determination.
He furrowed his brow as he argued his own point of view. "I believe it should be near the crib, where the baby can see it more easily."
A pregnant pause hung in the air, and then, like a sudden storm, their conflicting opinions collided.
"William, I appreciate your input, but I have a vision for how I want this to look. It's important to me," Elizabeth asserted, hands resting protectively on her burgeoning belly.
He, in turn, stood firm. "Elizabeth, I want the best for our child, and I believe my suggestion is more practical."
The atmosphere in the room grew tense as their voices rose, each stubbornly defending their stance. In the midst of the heated exchange, Elizabeth's heightened emotions got the better of her, and she felt a wave of frustration and tears threatening to spill over.
"William, I can't do this right now. We can talk about it later," she declared, storming out of the room to seek a moment of solace.
As the door closed behind her, William sighed, realizing the delicate balance they needed to maintain. Moments like these were inevitable, as they merged their lives and personalities, yet it was frustrating that such a small matter led to such a ridiculous argument.
Later, after emotions had settled, they found each other in the quiet space of their bedroom. The soft glow of the lamp illuminated the traces of lingering tension on their faces.
"I'm sorry, Elizabeth, mo ghràdh," William began, his voice gentle and apologetic. "I sometimes forget to consider your perspective. We're in this together, and I need to be more mindful of your point of view."
Elizabeth, too, offered her own apology, acknowledging the importance of finding common ground. They embraced as a silent agreement passed between them. In the complex dance of marriage and impending parenthood, they understood that disagreements were inevitable, but the strength of their bond lay in their ability to navigate through them, always returning to the foundation of their love and commitment.
Though tensions occasionally arose, every argument became an opportunity for growth and learning for the couple. Apologies were exchanged, compromises reached, and the anticipation of parenthood acted as a unifying force. As they approached the due date, they took comfort in their shared journey. Building a family meant more than just blending names or resolving disputes—it involved weaving their individual histories into a tapestry of shared love. The occasional conflicts, like passing clouds, only enriched the colors of their connection, making the impending arrival of their child even more meaningful.
As Christmas arrived, the couple opted for a more intimate celebration at home, foregoing the larger family gathering in London. Elizabeth's advanced pregnancy discouraged long-distance travel, a decision supported by her doctor. Nevertheless, the solitude proved to be a cherished opportunity for the newlyweds to create their own festive atmosphere within the confines of their home.
In the coziness of their bedroom and by the crackling fire in the lounge, they shared quiet moments and exchanged thoughtful gifts. The physical limitations of Elizabeth's pregnancy didn't deter them from finding other ways to connect intimately and bring each other joy.
William, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, teased, "Who needs mistletoe when we have each other, mo ghràdh?"
Elizabeth laughed, enjoying the warmth of their private celebration. "True, William. We have our own 'wee' little Christmas cocoon right here."
Her attempt to imitate his Scottish burr made him bark with laughter. She elbowed him in the ribs in reply, forcing him to retaliate by tickling her, though that only lasted a few moments before the baby's presence made itself felt, and Elizabeth had to retreat to the bathroom for a minute.
Amid the playful banter, they found solace in the simplicity of being together, embracing the unique moments the season offered. They reminisced about their wedding, shared dreams for the future, and reveled in the anticipation of becoming parents.
In the nursery, surrounded by the carefully chosen decorations, they sat together in the soft glow of the holiday lights. William's hand gently rested on Elizabeth's belly as they discussed their hopes and aspirations for the little one soon to join their lives.
"I want our child to know both of our worlds, William. To appreciate the rich history of Scotland and Tennessee and the warmth of a loving home," Elizabeth mused, her eyes reflecting the dreams she held close to her heart. "It was not something that I experienced, at least, aside from the time spent with my Granny, and I want that happy childhood for our children."
He nodded, a tender smile gracing his lips. "And I want them to be curious, adventurous, like you, my love. To find joy in the simple moments and embrace the beauty of both our cultures. We will not be like your parents, who drifted apart and did not make the effort to ensure their children grew up knowing they were loved. And I pray that they will not be orphaned like Georgiana and I were and like you were. I pray that will live to see our grandchildren and perhaps even our great-grandchildren someday."
"Oh, William," she cried as she snuggled more deeply into his arms. "I know that we cannot control these things, but I do hope you are correct, and we will live to see more children born and be able to watch them grow into adults."
This led to a conversation about the types of parents they hoped to be, and they laughed together about some of the ideals they hoped to instill into their children as they grew.
They welcomed Hogmanay in the company of William's friends, who had gathered in Inverness for the New Year festivities. Elizabeth chuckled at the recurring theme of bonfires in Scottish celebrations, finding amusement in the shared traditions.
As they prepared for the festivities, William explained the significance of the "first footer" tradition to Elizabeth. The first person to enter the house on New Year's Day was considered a harbinger of good fortune for the upcoming year. The quality of the gift brought by this "first footer" determined the level of luck the family could expect throughout the year.
"The better the gift, the more luck for the family in the year to come, mo ghràdh," William teased with a twinkle in his eye, emphasizing the importance of this cherished tradition. Elizabeth embraced the concept and prepared an appropriate gift for their hosts for the evening.
The Hogmanay celebration took place at a university friend of William's house in Inverness, where laughter and cheer filled the air. The warmth of the fireplace competed with the lively tunes of traditional Scottish music playing in the background. The scent of a variety of rich, hearty dishes wafted through the rooms, enticing everyone to indulge in the feast that was provided.
As the clock approached midnight, as it always seemed to do, anticipation was heightened for many in the room. William and Elizabeth smiled at each other as they joined in as everyone began the countdown, their glasses raised—Elizabeth's with sparkling cider while most of the others were drinking whisky or other libations—and made ready to toast to the arrival of the New Year. The crackling bonfire outside cast flickering shadows on the walls, creating an enchanting ambiance that added to the revelry.
When the clock struck midnight, cheers erupted, and the room erupted in a chorus of "Auld Lang Syne." William, with a playful glint in his eye, embraced Elizabeth for a sweet New Year's kiss, sealing their hopes for the coming year.
The "first footer" tradition unfolded as friends took turns entering the house, each carrying a gift that ranged from traditional shortbread and whisky to more whimsical tokens like a lucky charm or a sprig of heather. Elizabeth marveled at the diversity of gifts, each one contributing to the festive atmosphere. They had brought with them a small plate of homemade shortbread—a recipe Elizabeth had experimented with and, in her opinion, perfected in the last week—along with a fifth of Pemberley's best whisky.
Amid the lively conversations and laughter, Elizabeth found herself engaged in delightful exchanges with William's friends, savoring the camaraderie and the welcoming spirit of Hogmanay and her husband's friends. It was a different celebration than she was used to with her single friends in Tennessee, and she enjoyed the newness of it all. It was also quite different to celebrate with other couples, a few of whom had children as well, and Elizabeth was treated to a bit of advice about her upcoming delivery and raising their child. Although Elizabeth was tired, the party continued well into the early hours of the morning, with the group sharing stories, enjoying traditional dances, and reveling in the shared joy of the start of a new year.
As they returned home late on the morning of New Year's Day, Elizabeth was pleasantly surprised to find a collection of gifts waiting at their front door. William explained that several friends and co-workers had expressed their intention to drop off presents—a thoughtful Scottish tradition that extended the celebrations.
"Looks like we've had some 'first footers' of our own," William chuckled, bending down to gather the gifts that were stacked neatly on their doorstep.
Elizabeth's eyes widened as she surveyed the diverse assortment once they had them inside and began opening the various boxes. "Shortbread, whisky, coins... and coal?" she questioned, pointing at the latter with a curious expression.
William grinned, "A gift to express hope for warmth and prosperity. It's a traditional touch for the New Year."
She nodded, appreciating the symbolic gesture. As they unpacked the gifts, Elizabeth's excitement grew, especially when she noticed the thoughtful inclusion of several baby gifts. There were nappies, both disposable and reusable, outfits, and an array of toys.
A particularly large box had been overnighted from William's family in London. Elizabeth couldn't contain her laughter when she uncovered a tiny baby kilt, complete with a matching shirt, socks, sporran, and even a balmoral hat, all in the tartan adopted by the Darcy family.
"William, this is adorable! Our little one will be the most stylish baby in the Highlands," she exclaimed, holding up the miniature kilt with a delighted grin.
He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "That he will, mo ghràdh."
"He? Do you know something I don't, Will?" she teased back.
"That remains to be seen, leannan, but every man wants a son to continue his legacy. Not that I would not be pleased with a daughter, but I do hope for at least one of each someday. I will be happy with whoever comes."
She smiled at him, her gaze tired, but full of her love for him. He saw it and began to move her toward their room. "Come, mo ghràdh, it is time for you to rest."
"Will you join me?"
He nodded, and the two headed up the stairs, seeking respite in a morning of sleep to recover from their late-night festivities. Upon waking, Elizabeth busied herself in the kitchen, utilizing the iron skillet she had brought from Tennessee to bake a pan of cornbread. Alongside it, she prepared a hearty dish of black-eyed peas and used the leftover smoked ham from their Christmas meal to enhance the flavors.
Despite the challenge of finding specific ingredients in the local markets, Elizabeth had placed several online orders for Thanksgiving and New Year's, ensuring she had everything she needed for the meal. As the aroma of the comforting Southern fare filled the kitchen, she couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction in bringing a touch of home to their celebration.