The mist parted to reveal Darcy and Hannah, still at the hotel in London. They sat at the table, chatting like sisters, discussing how different their lives would be in New York, now that they were part of Margaret’s social circle.
“Think of all the people we’ll meet and…” Hannah stopped mid-sentence. “Darcy… these people in New York… what if some of them met Rory during his travels and know he didn’t have a wife or child?”
The thought sent a chill up Darcy’s spine. Gossip from such a chance encounter could expose their charade. A sudden stabbing pain in her abdomen caught her off guard. She sucked in a breath and bent forward, her hands balled into fists.
Hannah was scared. She reached out for her friend, but Darcy waved her away.
“Don’t worry. It was but a twinge. I’m feeling better already.”
Honor suspected Darcy was in labor. She wished Margaret was here.
“Why didn’t I consider the possibility someone would know Rory? He passed out calling cards to nearly everyone he encountered, and he…oh!”
Darcy wasn’t able to ignore the next contraction. She doubled over until the pain ebbed.
Hannah jumped to her feet. “Come, Darcy. We need to change you into a dressing gown before the pains worsen.”
She helped Darcy change and get into bed.
“I must fetch Margaret now. Keep your wits about you. I’ll return presently.” Hannah darted from the room.
Honor drifted into the folds of the familiar fog and watched through the haze as time zoomed past. When the mist receded, Darcy was still alone in the hotel room, writhing in pain with each contraction, her hair soaked with perspiration.
All at once, the door burst open and Margaret rushed in. “How close are the pains?”
Darcy moaned, “Close. Very close.”
Margaret crossed over to the dresser. She withdrew an egg timer from a velvet bag and used it to determine Darcy’s pains were a little more than three minutes apart.
“You’re doing fine,” she comforted.
Margaret poured a basin of water and carried it to the bedside. She wet a small rag, dabbed it gently against Darcy’s forehead.
“Where’s Hannah?” Darcy sobbed.
“She’ll be here soon. She went to fetch the doctor.”
Just then, a new contraction caused Darcy to cry out. Margaret held her hand and murmured soothing reassurances until the pain passed.
Darcy was miserable. Between contractions, she told Margaret about her new concern that Hannah would come into contact with an individual who had actually known Rory.
“It might be wise to give the baby another name besides Collins.”
Margaret listened, her eyes filled with compassion. It was evident that giving Rory’s child a different name was painful for Darcy to consider.
“I’ve watched you and Hannah grow very close over the last months. At times I find it difficult to believe you didn’t know one another before we came to Europe.”
Darcy nodded, then winced as a new pain flooded her body. Margaret dabbed Darcy’s face with the cool, wet cloth, waiting patiently for the contraction to end.
“You and Hannah have already blended your memories together, and are going to blend your futures together in New York. So, why not blend your names together as well?”
At first, Darcy was confused. “Blend our names together?”
“Yes, blend Collins and Johnson together into a new name like Collinson or Johncollin…”
“Oh, I see. Yes, that’s a superb idea.”
Margaret’s idea calmed Darcy’s fears, while at the same time, providing an activity to distract her from her labor pains.
Finally, Hannah returned with the doctor in tow. “I’m so sorry to have taken so long, but the doctor was, um, indisposed for a time,” she fretted.
The doctor let out a loud belch and Honor realized he had been drinking.
A young servant followed behind Hannah and the doctor, carrying a pot of coffee. She poured a cup for the doctor, and then looked around, uncertain what to do next. She looked positively relieved when Margaret waved her away. Without a moment’s hesitation, she scooted out the door, leaving the coffee pot on the table.
Margaret narrowed her eyes and took a long, hard look at the doctor. She planted her hands on her hips and demanded, “Are you too drunk to deliver a baby?”
“Madam, I’ve delivered dozens of babies while in much worse condition than I am in at the moment.”
Margaret’s voice was icy. “If you seek to comfort me by providing knowledge that you are often drunk while working, you have failed miserably.”
The doctor wasn’t humiliated or angered by her remarks. He gave her an amused smile and then sauntered over to where Darcy lay moaning in great distress.
He lifted one of Darcy’s hands and placed it on his palm. He began to rub it gently with the fingertips of his other hand while looking directly into her eyes. “There, there, sweet lady. Your pain will be over soon.”
His technique calmed Darcy instantly.
“May I have permission to look beneath your gown?”
Darcy nodded.
He gently laid her hand down and moved to the foot of the bed. Once he finished his examination, he announced, “Your baby will soon be here.”
Without altering his relaxed demeanor, he ordered Hannah to bring several towels and hot water. Hannah ran to do his bidding while Margaret stood at Darcy’s side, arms folded across her chest, watching the doctor’s every move.
The doctor picked up the mug of coffee, drinking deeply of the bitter brew. Afterward, he turned to Margaret. “Where’s the lady’s husband during this crucial time?”
“He was killed in an accident several months ago.”
Honor wasn’t sure the doctor believed her.
When Hannah returned, he tied a rag loop to both sides of the headboard and then pulled one of Darcy’s hands through each loop.
“Hold on tightly,” the doctor instructed. “This will give you added strength when it’s time to push your baby out.”
He tucked some towels beneath Darcy’s lower body before taking another long drink of coffee. Then he bent Darcy’s knees and braced his hands against them. Once everything was in place, he instructed, “Take a deep breath and push with the next pain.”
Darcy did as she was instructed, straining with the effort over and over again, as she endured several more contractions. Honor couldn’t feel Darcy’s contractions, but she experienced the panic that was welling up inside her tormented body.
Margaret and Hannah took turns dabbing the wet cloth against Darcy’s brow.
“Just a little while longer Darcy…there’s a brave girl,” Margaret murmured.
“You’re doing wonderfully, Darcy,” Hannah added.
Darcy was becoming exhausted. Margaret, Hannah and Honor were worried, but the doctor didn’t seem to share their concern. He just kept telling Darcy she was doing fine; encouraging her to take deep breaths and push harder.
The doctor studied the women, especially Margaret. Suddenly, a look of recognition lit his features. He was about to say something when Darcy let out a painful howl.
“Ah, your baby is beginning to show itself. This is good. Keep pushing.”
“I can’t push anymore,” Darcy wailed, exhausted.
The doctor ignored her pitiful protests. Alternating between encouragement and commands, he persuaded her to push even harder.
Honor moved to the foot of the bed and watched with fascination as a patch of the baby’s dark hair became visible. With a few more pushes, the baby’s head was out and resting in the doctor’s hand. He gently coaxed one shoulder out and then whoosh…the rest of the baby slid out into the world and began to cry.
The doctor announced, “You have a fine daughter, my lady, and she has a strong pair of lungs to boot!”
He handed the baby to Hannah while he quickly delivered the placenta, then tied off and cut the umbilical cord. The doctor cleaned up the mess, while Margaret helped Darcy change into a fresh gown and settle into bed. Hannah washed the baby’s perfect little body and swaddled her in a blanket.
Darcy was physically and emotionally spent, but smiled when Hannah gently laid her newborn daughter in her arms. Darcy stared at the magical bundle in her arms and whispered, “Welcome to the world, Hope Marie Colson.”
Hannah gasped. She understood the name immediately. The child represented the spark of hope Darcy kept alive in her heart, the memory of her own lost sister and a sir name that merged the Collins and the Johnson families forever.
Darcy smiled. “Do you like her name?”
Hannah bobbed her head up and down, gleeful, but too choked with emotion to find words.
Honor staggered back and sat heavily into a chair, finally grasping her connection to these women. Hope Marie Colson. She had just witnessed the birth of her great grandmother.