Christmas and new year had passed like a daze, and everyone of the Bromptons was waiting for the next event: Elizabeth's baby. The couple had decided to stay at the Brompton estate so that they would not be alone in theirs when the time came.

Andrew was excited too, but just like all the months before, he had not truly felt happy or excited about anything. Surely, he would smile and laugh when he was supposed to, but when he was alone, he would take off the smile and show the sadness he truly felt.

Was it silly to feel this way because of a woman? It felt quite unmanly, but was it truly? Had Hawthorne not gone through exactly the same feelings for Elizabeth? The only difference was that Hawthorne truly was to blame, while Andrew was not. If only Victoria would see that...

Andrew mentally shook his head. Now was not the time to think of it. He had to smile, for his family could wake up any moment and enter the breakfast room. They should not find him staring blankly into space, for if they did, they would worry more about him, rather than be exited for Elizabeth.

He moved his eyes to the newspaper, pretending to read it, when his mother entered. She told him good morning, then started her breakfast. Not much later, Mary and Thomas arrived as well, too moody at this time to say anything. Andrew was not surprised by it, for it was always like this. They needed their breakfast before they were pleasant.

"Andrew," lady Anne suddenly said, "are you alright? You have been reading the same page for half an hour."

He did not look up at his mother, for that would only tell her he was not alright indeed. So instead, he murmured: "tis a good article."

Lady Anne did not react to it, but Andrew could feel her eyes remained on him for a while. He was indeed not alright, but he had not been for months now. He always told himself he merely needed time, but he had gotten time – five months now – and he had not felt any better. It made him wonder if he would stay the grumpy man he is now, or if he needed more time.

Suddenly the door opened again, and Elizabeth walked in, heavily leaning on her husband. Lady Anne's head shot up immediately and she asked: "Elizabeth, are you alright?"

"Yes, Mother, I am," she said, but her face told a different story. She was in pain.

"The baby is coming, yes?" their mother asked. That got everyone's attention, even Thomas and Mary's. Elizabeth did not react and stumbled her way to a chair where she dropped down on.

Everyone was eyeing her with wonder and excitement, but it was Hawthorne who answered, clearly annoyed by his wife's decision: "yes, but she wishes to have breakfast first."

Lady Anne stood up, severely eyeing her oldest daughter. "Elizabeth Anne Hawthorne, you must stay in your bed and give your baby a proper birth."

"Mother, I shall," Elizabeth complained, "but I ought to take care of myself first. And right now, I wish for food, and for you to remain calm."

"How can I remain calm when my first grand child will be born on the chair of my dining room?!"

"Mother," Elizabeth sighed. "I shall go to my bed in due time, but it is not now yet."

"But Elizabeth, you are in pain," Mary spoke, trying to sound calm. "The baby could come any moment."

Elizabeth looked at her sister. "You ought to remain calm as well."

"I am trying to be, but it would be easier if you were in your bed."

"You," Elizabeth said, pointing at Mary, "shall not enter my room while I give birth." Then she turned to her mother and said: "and neither will you."

"But, dear," their mother spoke, pretending she was not hurt by her daughter's decision, "who will?"

Elizabeth's eyes met Andrew, but he was certain she did not want him to be there. A man was not supposed to be inside the room while a woman gave birth – not even her husband. He knew who she wanted inside the room with her, for she had already told him before. But Andrew would never be able to fetch her, for she would not listen to him. He also doubted he would be back in time – if all would go right.

So he shook his head. "No. No, Elizabeth. I am not getting Victoria."

"Either you get her, or I give birth with only a midwife."

Andrew merely shook his head, not wanting to say his words again. O how he would love to get the lady and see her again. It would be amazing if she could be there to support his sister on one of the most important moments of her life, but if she truly wanted to be here, would she not have visited? Or did she hate Andrew so much, she could not even stand the mere sight of him?

"Fine," Elizabeth said, "then I give birth alone."

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Everyone was in the parlour, waiting for Elizabeth to stop shouting and the crying of a baby to start. It was a hopeful moment, but all eyes were on Andrew, blaming him for Elizabeth's decision to give birth alone. It had been hours since she had asked for Victoria, and Andrew knew he would have had enough time to fetch the lady and please his sister, but he could not. She did not want to see him anymore, so he would leave her alone – no matter how much it hurt him.

He also hated himself for not doing as Elizabeth asked. Twas because of him that she had to go through the birth of her first child alone. Twas because of him she had no one to hold her hand and tell her all will be alright.

Twas because of him Victoria was hurt. Yes, he was not to blame for what she believed, but he was to blame for not trying more to tell her the truth.

Should he try more? Should he go to her once more and make her listen to him? Should he go more than once? Would she want to hear the truth? Would she believe him?

The only one who did not blame Andrew, was Hawthorne, for his mind was occupied with scenarios of doom. It was not unusual if a woman died while giving birth.

Trying to set his mind off Victoria, he stood up and walked to his friend, patting him on the back, before he went to the liquor cabinet and filled two glasses with whatever he could find. He gave one of them to his friends with an encouraging smile, the other one he drank himself. He did not need it as much as Hawthorne, but he needed it nevertheless.

Twas many hours later, when Hawthorne had finally taken a seat because his feet hurt from all the pacing, that silence filled the house. Everyone waited to hear the next sound, and the silence had never been so loud. Even Andrew had forgotten everything he was thinking about just before as his mind was praying for Elizabeth to be alright.

And finally, after what felt like hours, the silence was filled by a soft cry that warmed everyone's heart. A sigh of relief was let out by everyone, and some even dropped a tear. Hawthorne jumped up and rushed to the door, but was stopped by lady Anne, who told him to wait for the midwife to come to them.

"Like I have not seen my wife unclothed," he murmured while walking back. The room remained quiet until footsteps were heard coming down the stairs, and the door swung open. Before the midwife could say a word, Hawthorne had already left the room to rush to his wife.

"She is doing well," the midwife told everyone else in the room. "As is the baby."

With a smile, they all walked upstairs and entered Elizabeth's room. Hawthorne was already on his knees next to the bed, smiling down at the small baby in his wife's arms. He planted a kiss on its head before lady Anne walked closer and looked at her daughter and grandchild. "Well?"

Elizabeth's smile grew as she proudly said: "it is a boy." Lady Anne squealed before she bowed down to look at her first grandson.

"Mother?" Elizabeth said, ending the word with a high note. She shared a look with Hawthorne, who gave her an encouraging nod. She moved her eyes back to her mother. "We have decided on a name for him, but we would like to get your blessing."

Lady Anne looked at her daughter, surprised and curious. She did not answer, but merely gave a nod.

Elizabeth pursed her lips and took a deep breath. "We would like to name him Francis, after Father."

Though Andrew could not see his mother's face, he was certain the lady was fighting back tears, just like Mary was doing. Andrew and Thomas smiled but kept their mouths shut, both loving the idea of having a nephew honouring their father.

Lady Anne started nodding, wiping tears away with her hands. "Of course you have my blessing," she said, before reaching over the baby to hug her daughter. Tears were now flowing, not only lady Anne's, but also Elizabeth's, Mary's, and even Hawthorne's.

Tears of happiness, cries of joy and many compliments filled the room the rest of the day, while the young Francis was passed around every one of his family, each one admitting their love for the boy they had only just met.