Per tradition and the precepts of the Anglican Church of England, the christening ceremony served two vitally important objectives. One was the official naming and declaration of the child before the congregation, family, and God. The second was to receive the baptism into the Body of Christ, ensuring that the child begins his or her life on the proper pathway toward a mature affirmation of faith leading to complete salvation.

In order to correctly fulfill the first objective, the christening was to take place on Sunday during the normal worship service when the local congregants were assembled as witnesses. These witnesses accepted the partial responsibility of overseeing the spiritual upbringing of the child, who was henceforth a part of the flock. With this idea in mind, it was also critical to perform the rite at the parish church where the parents were members and by the pastor who ministered to them.

Due to the irrefutable fact of infant illness and subsequent death being a frequent harsh reality, the christening of Alexander William George Bennet Darcy was scheduled for the Sunday that fell three days after Christmas. The hasty departure of his father to Derby had necessitated a postponement until the following Sunday, arranged by Mr. Keith as one of the tasks assigned at the last minute by his Master.

The dawn of January fourth, 1818, with Alexander now a full five weeks old and stout, should have brought nothing but high enthusiasm to both his parents.

In the case of his father, this was true. The past days had been hectic ones between duties to his guests, endless hours opening presents, and extended hours with Mr. Keith, and three days on horseback to visit local clients, but the robust man in the prime of his life suffered no depreciation. Being home within the bosom of his family amid the comforting rooms, entertained and well fed, was all he needed to restore his equilibrium. The final crown to his joy was the formal presentation of his son and heir and the necessity of ensuring the new life’s dedication to Christ. With these pleasant thoughts premiere, Darcy woke as the first rays of sunlight bathed the snow drenched landscape and drew his sleeping wife closer with a dreamy smile, then drifted back into a doze.

In contrast, Lizzy roused roughly an hour later and vaulted from the bed. She dashed to the nearest window and ripped the curtain aside. Darcy jerked upright in sheer panic, shock rendering him speechless.

“The sun is shining!” She exclaimed ecstatically, glancing to her befuddled spouse then turning back to contemplate the outside. “No wind or rain or clouds! Oh thank you, Lord! Do you think it warmer?”

She whirled back to Darcy, who was now faintly smiling in amusement. His answer was to gaze pointedly at her rock hard nipples and spreading goose bumps as the frigid cold of the chamber waved over her bare flesh. He quite enjoyed the view of her alabaster nakedness and wildly disheveled hair as illuminated by the filtered beams of light, but she was beginning to shiver so he held out his arm beckoningly.

“I think you know the answer to that question, my darling. Come back to bed and let me warm you.” She hesitated, her face falling slightly as she glanced outside again before sighing and turning toward the welcoming bed and spouse. Darcy enfolded her, pulling down into the cushions, and covering with thick comforter and radiant body. He kissed her forehead, “Do not fret so. He will be bundled securely up to his eyeballs. No harm will come, I promise. He must travel beyond Pemberley sooner or later, and this is the appropriate occasion.”

“I know,” she mumbled petulantly. “I just… worry.”

Darcy smoothed the hair from her brow, kissing tenderly. “Focus instead on how precious he will look in his gown, fat rosy cheeks surrounded by lace, while we stand together at the altar with his godparents. This is a magnificent day! Be filled with only cheer, I beg you. I know for me it is a day I have longed for, for many years, one of the best days of my life after the day you married me.”

“Of course you are correct. Thank you, love.” She smiled. “He will be absolutely adorable, to be sure. Oh, I just love him so much! And you too, my dear husband.” And she hugged him tightly, the lovers losing themselves in soft kisses and caresses until Alexander’s hunger overruled.

“There, there, my darling. Hush now and do not be so vexed with your mama. You look absolutely adorable.”

“I thought he had grown so big until now. That gown swallows him! No wonder you are irritated, my lamb.” Darcy bent to kiss the flushed cheek of his fussing son, securing waving hands. “Only for a short time must you endure. It is important, even if you do resemble a blob of meringue confection. Be strong, my son, as life is full of these travails and clothing is rarely comfortable.” Alexander had calmed somewhat at the resonant murmurings of his father, but additional wails were clearly bubbling under the surface.

“Hold the skirts up so I can find his feet. Thank you. I should have placed the stockings and slippers on first. Oh, there he goes! Ticklish feet. Talk to him before he loses all control and wrinkles the material beyond repair.”

Darcy bent again to croon placatingly into a tiny ear while Lizzy finished the difficult task of placing small garments on a flailing limb. Mrs. Hanford stood nearby with the bonnet and silver cross in hand, smiling at the scene. Alexander was well fed and wishing to fall asleep as was typical, but instead was being subjected to the horrors of dressing in a lace encrusted gown with dozens of buttons that had required him to lie on his abdomen for far too long. At least now he was on his back, so all the surroundings, including the two beloved adults who cared for him so devotedly, could be visualized in the appropriate perspective.

“It is understandable, my sweet, cry if you must. I cannot say that I blame you, as you do look rather ridiculous…”

“William! He does not! He is adorable.”

“He looks like a girl or a doll all smothered in satin and lace. I cannot believe I ever had to wear this frippery, but traditions must be adhered to. Yes, that is the way of life, my son, lesson number two after the revelation is that clothing is generally uncomfortable.” He nibbled on Alexander’s neck, whose slow crying was replaced with baby giggles.

“I am sure you were equally adorable in this gown, although you would have filled it out better, since you weighed nearly two pounds heavier than Alexander at birth. Your poor mother.”

The christening gown currently disturbing Alexander had been sewn by Anne Darcy during her first pregnancy, expressly to be worn by the Heir to Pemberley. When that first child had ended up being a girl, Alexandria, she had instead been christened in the gown worn by her mother, the far more elaborate gown packed away until Fitzwilliam was christened.

Initially, Lizzy had imagined sewing a gown as well, but the plain reality was that she was not very skilled with a needle, especially when dealing with fragile fabrics. While in London she had examined several readymade garments, considered purchasing one that she liked, but was too embarrassed to do so. Darcy would laugh at her later when she finally confessed that she was ashamed to admit her deficiency to him. As sentimental as Darcy tended to be in many respects, he honestly could care less what his child wore during the baptism ceremony. It was only upon one of his excursions through the stacks of boxes stored in the attic that the resolution presented itself: the gown worn by him and sewn by his mother, discovered among the stacked boxes of memorabilia.