“You rang for me, Mistress?” Mrs Reynolds asked after she bobbed a curtsy.
“Please close the door and take a seat,” Lady Anne requested. She waited until the housekeeper had done as she asked. “Were you aware that when I birthed William, I laboured for almost two days, and it was a very difficult birth, one I almost did not survive?”
“It was before you promoted me to under-housekeeper, but yes, there was some talk of that below stairs,” Mrs Reynolds owned.
“Based on my experience last time I delivered a babe and the five I lost in between; I must allow for the possibility that I will not live to see my son or daughter who will arrive in February or March.” Lady Anne held up her hand to stem the forming protest from her housekeeper. “I pray it will not be so, but I must prepare for that eventuality.”
“I understand. What do you require from me, your Ladyship?”
“My plan is to write some letters. I will entrust them to you.Ifthe worst happens, you are to give them to my husband. Will you do that for me?”
“Of course, I will, Mistress.” Mrs Reynolds had to dab at her moist eyes. “However, I pray that I will be able to hand them back to you when you are recovered and still here with us.”
“That is my prayer too,” Lady Anne agreed. “Thank you, Agnes.”
Once the housekeeper left, Lady Anne set about writing her letters. She completed two before she needed to rest as the babe she was carrying made itself known with some well-placed kicks.
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
By early February, Lady Anne Darcy was large with child and spent most of her time in bed, preserving her strength for the birthing process to come. As he did whenever he was not required to deal with estate business, Robert was sitting with her; this time he was reading her one of Shakespeare’s sonnets. Specifically sonnet 18: ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?’
“Robert, I love to hear you read to me, but we need to speak,” Lady Anne pleaded.
Knowing he had been putting off certain conversationsbecause it would make his worries all too real, Darcy put the book of sonnets down on the table next to him. He could no longer defer this without upsetting his beloved Anne. “Of what do you want to speak, Dearest?”
“Neither of us wants to speak of the possibility, but Robert, you must know that there is a chance I will not survive this birth. That is true every time a woman delivers a child, but we both know why the chances are greater for me. The reason I wanted to speak to you is that we can make some decisions now, and I will need some promises from you,” Lady Anne responded.
“I am listening. Tell me what you will.”
“In case I am not able to discuss this after the birth, may we select names for both a son and daughter?”
“Of course.” Darcy maintained his equanimity while he hated the subject.
Lady Anne rested her hand on her large belly. “What say you that if this one is a daughter we name her Georgiana Bethany? That will honour our late mothers. If it is a son, then I prefer Alexander Robert.”
“I like the names, but what of Bethany Georgiana, so your late mother’s name is first?”
“Unless you object, my preference is Georgiana first.”
At the best of times, Darcy could deny his wife nothing it was his power to grant, so he accepted her preference without argument. “And the vows you require from me? I will honour almost anything you ask of me except if it is to marry again if the worst comes to pass.”
“If God calls me home to His side, Mrs Reynolds will give you some letters. I need you to vow that you will do as I ask with those not for you. The one to you, you swear to do as I ask of you within. It does not demand you marry again.”
“You have my word of honour, but I want you here with me and not some letter,” Darcy responded.
“As I desire the same, my love.”
~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~
Lady Anne’s labours began just after midnight on the fourth day of March 1796.
By seven that morning, a little girl with a mop of golden blonde hair, similar to her mother’s, was born. Lady Anne was attended by Lady Elaine, Mrs Reynolds, and the midwife. The doctor was in the hallway outside of the birthing chamber.
Lady Catherine, whose husband had been lost to a severe bout of scarlet fever, refused to attend her sister because said sister had refused all entreaties to betroth their children. Lady Catherine thought she was punishing her sister when in fact she had gifted Lady Anne peace. Anne de Bourgh had been very ill, but she had survived.
The babe, named Georgiana Bethany as decided by her parents some weeks earlier, was as healthy as could be.
As soon as she was cleaned and swaddled, she was handed to the nursemaid to take her to the nursery, where the wet nurse waited to feed the tiny Miss Darcy.
