“Of course, William. You are always welcome. How can I help you?”

Darcy dragged a chair close to his uncle, sitting and placing the book onto his lap, giving Dr. Darcy an opportunity to read the title. With a raised brow and crooked smile, he answered his own inquiry, “Ah, I see. Honestly, William, you are the married one not I, although I do have some limited experience and will happily assist if you need. Or is it pregnancy-related concerns you have?” His grin widened at Darcy's expression of amused disgust.

The book Darcy held was the medical text, boldly emblazoned with the title: The Compleat Cyclopaedia of Midwifery and Reproduction. “The latter, Uncle, thank you,” Darcy replied sarcastically. “Elizabeth and I were talking after the whole skin-stretching scare,” he paused for a brief shudder before continuing, “and we realized that this book, which has been our primary resource for pregnancy information, may be lacking. We do not want to be unprepared for any eventuality, especially those details which are apparently so common as to not warrant entry into the text. You are our best asset.”

Dr. Darcy nodded seriously, all traces of humor receding. “This is wise. You know you can always count on me, son.” He smiled. “You know, William, I must applaud your enthusiasm and interest. It is the rare man who deigns to partake in matters generally deemed totally female issues. It warms my heart.”

Darcy waved his hand dismissively and flushed slightly, but he met his uncle's direct gaze with equal intensity. “Thank you, sir; it is not a tribute to my character, but rather to the rare woman I have been gifted. Someone as special as Elizabeth deserves a husband who will support her in all ways.”

“I will not argue your wife's stellar attributes, as I wholeheartedly agree with you, but do not sell yourself short.” He undraped his legs from the chair and sat up straight, leaning toward Darcy. “William, I have not been so fortunate as to find love to the degree as you have and James before you, but I do have a vast amount of experience with families and their interpersonal relationships. When one primarily encounters a family at their worst, suffering from disease or loss, one quickly notices what sets the successful, adjusted, and therefore capable of surviving trauma families apart from those who will fall to pieces. Always it is a deep devotion among the members, whether it parents or siblings or spouses. This devotion translates into the realm of childbirth as well. Those women who have strong support will manage far more capably then those who are alone or unloved. Elizabeth is blessed to have you there for her.”

“That is why it essential for me to know all I can about this process. I have seen hundreds of animal births and have a fairly firm knowledge base of human anatomy, but the books all seem vague regarding the details.”

Dr. Darcy nodded. “Yes, most would, although I daresay I could acquire a newer text than the one you hold and more comprehensive. Unfortunately, birth, as I said, is considered a female issue relegated to midwives and therefore deemed unworthy of a physician's attention, hence the lack of textual information. Personally, I believe the tide is turning on all matters sexual, and a revolution of enlightenment is approaching, but that is for another discussion. As for me, I do have superior knowledge in the field, having delivered hundreds of babies. Indian women prefer their dais, their term for midwife, but often one is not about or trouble arises and a doctor is called for. Also, the English women will not allow an Indian dai to attend their birth, usually, so if I am around, I get summoned!”

“Is birth truly as horrible as one hears? Horses, for the most part, birth so easily with rare complications. Humans seem to suffer profoundly and frequently…” He looked at his uncle with undisguised fear. “If anything happened to Elizabeth, I…”

“She is young and healthy, William, so I am sure all will be well.” He patted his nephew's trembling knee comfortingly. “Women in childbirth seem to fall into three basic categories. There are those who pass through the entire process with ease. This seems to be a combination of an innate control and an effortless, relatively pain free labor. They are the lucky ones. The worst are the women who fight the process, scream and thrash uncontrollably no matter what we do or say. Often the labors are not actually that horrible, but their lack of control and serenity create an atmosphere of intense stress, frequently leading to a negative outcome. Most fall into the middle category. Labor is so named because it is arduous and painful. There is no escaping the fact, but there are ways to control it and smooth the procedure.”

Darcy leaned forward, listening avidly. “What ways?”

“Breathing techniques, focus, meditation, positions, and the like. However, the one essential is loving support. I cannot stress enough how vital it is for the mother to be surrounded by calming, strong, devoted presences.”

Darcy sat back with a heavy sigh, mumbling sadly, “I wish I could be there with her.”

“Why can you not? You are the one she loves the greatest. You have the premiere relationship with her so should be there if she needs you.”

Darcy was staring at his uncle with stunned amazement. “You cannot be serious? Men are not allowed in birth rooms, Uncle!”

Dr. Darcy laughed, reaching into his coat pocket for a cigar. “I know you tend to be a stickler for the rules, William, but it is not a law from the Crown after all. You are the Master of the house and if your wife needs you, I judge you will rise to the occasion.” He lit the cigar, inhaling leisurely while watching Darcy's contemplative mien. “In the meantime, let us open that book and see what wisdom is imparted. Just promise me you will not blush every time the word vagina or penis or breast appears, alright?” He grinned and Darcy blushed.

It was close to noon before Lizzy was lovingly persuaded by her husband to relinquish the Festival management into the proficient hands of Mrs. Reynolds and the rest. Yesterday the thought of evacuating the house had appealed to Lizzy. Today, with workers arriving, wagons by the dozens rolling up to the side entrance, performers appearing, decorating and construction visibly transpiring, Lizzy experienced an internal sense of abandoning her duties. Only Darcy's gentle reminder that this is precisely the job of the commander, to delegate the responsibilities to his or her subordinates and trust that they will competently execute the tasks, finally swayed her. He certainly had no doubts regarding the adequacy of the Pemberley staff and his assurance in the end eased Lizzy.

Tightly packed into three open carriages with baskets, blankets, croquet and other game equipment, fishing poles, and a few miscellaneous necessities about their feet, the current inhabitants of Pemberley set off. Humor was high. Picnics always have a mysterious influence on folks, creating a carefree, childlike exuberance nearly impossible to resist. Lizzy was especially excited, as they were journeying along a thin track through the forest that led to a hidden lake and grassy knoll some three miles into Pemberley lands. She had never visited this part of the estate, as many of Darcy's planned excursions with his wife for spring having been postponed due to her accident.

The half-hour journey was delightful all by itself. Lizzy sat next to Darcy, who drove the open buggy, with Kitty and Georgiana seated in back. George Darcy commandeered the second vehicle with Anne de Bourgh and Dr. Penaflor. The last was steered by Richard with Jane, Charles, and Caroline Bingley. The narrow wagon trail was primarily utilized by the Pemberley huntsmen, so was rough, steep in places, and minimally maintained. Nonetheless, the terrain traversed was beautiful, counteracting the discomfort, at least as far as Lizzy was concerned. The vast forest looming to the east of the Manor covered miles upon miles, stretching far beyond the boundaries of Pemberley. Aside from the fringes, which formed the hidden grotto behind the Greek Temple, Lizzy had entered none of the wooded acreage.

The majority of the trees were species of oak with the random Scots pine, birch, rowan, and ash, many covered with a blanket of lichen and moss. Ground flora was thick in most places with a smattering of wildflowers, bluebells, rhododendrons, ivy, and ferns amongst the numerous shrubs. They halted at an extensive wild blackberry thicket, picking a bucket of dark berries for a later treat. The trees were dense in patches, impenetrable to the view beyond. Other stretches were sparse, allowing one to see for great distances, the grove extending for miles. The air was far cooler under the canopy of branches and leaves, smelling sweetly of fresh blooms, musky earth, and moldering wood. Twitters and warbles of varied birds were audible, mingled with the occasional scurry of small woodland creatures. At one point they stopped suddenly to allow a family of deer to cross the trail, and twice startled a fox. Darcy, the hawk-eyed hunter that he was, managed to efficiently drive and point to about two dozen game fowl and several rabbits, most of which the women did not see.