A hush fell over the previously talkative assembly as Mr. and Mrs. Darcy carried their son to the designated bench in the front row. The sanctuary was pleasantly warm due to the combined effects of thick stonewalls, a mass of bodies, and the four braziers burning coal in each corner. Lizzy gently worked to remove the woolen blankets, revealing Alexander in all his lacy satin glory. A ripple of whispered awe ran through the congregants. Lizzy and Darcy shared a private smile and loving glance, hearts swelling with immeasurable pride and happiness.

Resplendent in his formal vestments, black cassock covered by a delicate white surplice and accented with a stunning cross of gold and green satin stole, Reverend Bertram stood in regal command behind the pulpit. The kindly face of the grey haired elderly gentleman shone upon each person equally, caring eyes touching every face. He signaled his wife, who sat at the five-year-old pianoforte which was a gift from their patron when the prior one grew impossible to tune adequately, and she applied competent fingertips to the ivory keys for the initial bars of “Come, and Let Us Sweetly Join” by Charles Wesley as the white robed choir entered to stand in their designated location.

Alexander’s eyes opened as the first voices rose in song. With the serious expression typical of the weeks old infant, he gazed up at his father, who was concentrating on the choir, and quietly settled in to listen to the disembodied singing and cadenced music as it lifted, harmonized, and swirled about the chamber.

The good reverend had long ago learned the necessity of keeping the introductory worship as short as feasible in hopes that infantile fortitude would persevere throughout the ritual itself. Even at that, there had been many a child whose wails nearly drowned out the verbalized blessings well before the assault with tepid water to a delicate forehead. Thus it was that as soon as the final strains of echoing music died, he lifted his hands and requested the congregation join him in prayer.

With bowed head, Darcy listened to the invocation while smiling at the blue-eyed stare fixed on his face. One chubby hand was wrapped around his thumb, and it was no surprise when Lizzy’s soft hand crept over, fingers lacing and simultaneously caressing both husband and son.

“Gentlemen and ladies of Pemberley Parish, welcome to this first Sunday of the year of our Lord eighteen hundred eighteen. Every day and every year granted to us by the gracious Hand of our merciful God is to be treasured and accepted as a gift. Nonetheless, there are certain days, certain years, and certain events that are marked as momentous. Supreme over all human celebrations are those that exalt our awesome Father, sacrificial Savior, and renewing Spirit. Yet, in the process of uplifting our hearts and minds in honoring and commemorating human occurrences, we are also reminded of the grace and mercy of the Creator of all. Today is such a day.”

Reverend Bertram paused, eyes sweeping the assembly and resting lastly on the Darcys. He smiled, continuing in his ringing voice, “Of all the miracles we daily witness, second to the reawakening of a lost soul finding Christ is the miracle of a new life created in the union between two who love and are joined in the Holy State of Matrimony. Today, this Fourth day of January, we gather here in God’s sanctified House to welcome a new life. Further, it is our joy and honor to perform the sacred ritual that will set this innocent babe, born into sin and darkness, upon the true path of Light and forgiveness.

“The Christening Sacrament, baptizing a soul in need of redemption, serves numerous functions. It is a welcoming of the child into the family, community, church, and the world. It is a formal blessing of the child, just as Jesus blessed the children in Mark chapter ten, verses thirteen to sixteen. It is a celebration of the life given, a life that is treasured and loved, a way to publicly thank God for this transcendent joy. It is to dedicate the child to God, vowing to raise him in the tenets of Christian faith. It is to purify by the washing of water, symbolically cleansing of the stain of Original Sin and imparting rebirth through Christ and the power of the Holy Spirit. It is a time of formal naming and presentation of the reborn Child of Christ to God and the parish community.

“All of these functions are willingly and wholeheartedly entered into today by Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy. With unification of purpose and free submission to God, they bring their first-born child, a son, before us now to receive the Sacrament. Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, if you will join me here with the godparents as well?”

Darcy rose, heart surging with joy. Glancing to his misty-eyed wife, he fleetingly envied the societal custom that said it was acceptable for women to shed tears but not men! The five of them, with Alexander quietly awake from the comfortable position nestled against his papa’s solid chest, gathered next to Reverend Bertram on the elevated chancel where he now stood beside the baptismal font.

Darcy stared into the beaming faces of each godparent, one by one meeting their eyes to convey an unspoken message of thankfulness and abiding affection. Jane Bingley, serene and beautiful in a pale yellow gown, golden locks shimmering in innumerable curls upon her head, cerulean blue eyes shining and brimming with steady love. Charles Bingley, stately in a tailored suit of brown, red hair gleaming in the sunrays through the high windows, eyes wide with lingering traces of amazement, but tender with eternal friendship. And lastly, George Darcy, resplendent in a modern suit of vivid blue with long fitted trousers and waistcoat of cream velvet, brown curls lying impishly over a high noble brow, dimpled and toothy grin extending to identical Darcy blue eyes with fathomless depths of compassion, twinkles of humor, and profound familial devotion.

Darcy and Lizzy turned their attention to Reverend Bertram, confident in the certain knowledge that Alexander was to be perpetually surrounded by the best of souls.

Reverend Bertram’s elderly but trained speaking voice rang out, easily reaching to the farthest ear and readily commanding the attention of the vigilant flock. “Loving parents, family, and friends, you have come to witness the dedication of this blessed child to God. Realizing that this baby is special because by his birthright he is a Child of God.”

He turned to Darcy and Lizzy. “Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, your gift of love for each other made this child possible, and your guidance, wisdom, and love assures the happiness of this new life. May you remember to listen with your heart to the indwelling Christ as you nurture, love, and watch this loving Child of God grow into his divinely inspired potential. Do you receive this child as a gift from God?”

In a clear voice they both responded, “Yes, we do.”

“Do you wish to give thanks to God and receive His blessing?”

“Yes, we do.”

“Then let us pray. God our Creator, we thank you for the wonder and miracle of new life and for the mystery of human love. We thank you that we are known to you by name and loved by you from eternity past. We thank you for Jesus Christ who has shown us the way of love. Bless these parents that they may cherish their child. Make them wise, patient, and understanding to help him grow as he ought. Surround this family with the light of your truth and the warmth of your love. We praise you Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen.”

“Blessed be God forever,” the entire assembly intoned.

“What name have you given to this child?”

“Alexander William George Bennet Darcy,” carefully articulated in ringing tones by a proud father.

“Who stands with you as persons of testified faith to offer their willing services as support in bringing Alexander to a conscious knowledge of Christ at the earliest possible age?”

Each godparent answered by stating their names, Reverend Bertram then asking, “Do you vow to withhold the tenets of your faith, set an example of Christian life and behavior, do all within your power to maintain a lasting relationship with Alexander and the Darcys, and be a support to them in the fulfillment of their vows until such time as God releases you when called home to Him?”

“I do.”

“I do.”

“I do.”

Lizzy was furtively dabbing at her teary eyes. She was afraid to look at Darcy, who she felt standing stiffly beside her; one glance at what she knew for certain was his patented rigid expression when overcome would surely send her over the emotional edge. She was correct, of course, as Darcy’s jaws were beginning to hurt from the tight grip he forced upon each muscle and bone. Alexander, in contrast, had accidentally wrapped his fingers around the ties to his bonnet and was happily ignoring all the drama about him in the delightful contemplation of flapping lace.

In fact, he was noticeably more disturbed by the sudden interruption to his play when passed from the familiar location next to the strongly beating heart of his father into the strange arms of another man than by anything that had transpired thus far. The surprising motion caused his arms to flail and partially lose their clasp on the entertaining ribbons, and then to make matters worse, his mother leaned over and removed the bonnet entirely! The indignity and annoyance of it all was almost too much to bear and his face screwed up in preparation to vocalize his opinion on the subject.

Fortunately, Darcy could read his son’s thoughts quite well and placed a firm hand onto his chest, leaning slightly to hush placatingly and capture Alexander’s gaze before it was too late. His timing was impeccable, Alexander calmed and distracted by the beloved face and voice.

Reverend Bertram chuckled, beaming upon the assembly. “Father to the rescue! Thank you Mr. Darcy for saving me from the arduous task of raising my age-crusted voice above the din!”

Darcy bowed slightly with a soft smile as the crowd rippled with quiet laughter. Reverend Bertram stepped behind the venerable baptismal font, a thick pedestal of white marble with curved inlaid strips of black marble and beaten copper between the four sides richly carved with images of Jesus blessing the little children. On top sat a bowl of intricately scrolled sterling silver, very old with aged tarnish spots impervious to the diligent efforts of numerous Pemberley servants on down through the centuries. This bowl served one purpose only: to hold the blessed water for christening Darcy children. Last used for Georgiana, the bowl had nonetheless been polished regularly and stored safely awaiting this very day.

Now Alexander’s head of massed brown curls dangled over the water-filled bowl as Reverend Bertram plunged his hand into the tepid liquid and said, “Alexander William George Bennet Darcy, I baptize thee in the Name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.”

Alexander blinked and flinched in surprise at the sensation of water poured onto his head, but remained peacefully gazing into the rector’s face. Lizzy squeezed Darcy’s arm, impulsively laying her head onto his shoulder while he blinked so furiously as to be unaware of anything but his own struggles to retain control.

Dipping into the small chalice of oil, Reverend Bertram anointed the babe’s forehead with the shape of a cross, speaking clearly, “I sign thee, Alexander, with the cross; the sign of Christ and His Church.”

Mrs. Bertram approached, handing a lighted candle to Darcy, Lizzy, and each godparent, while the Reverend completed the sacrament, “Shine as a light in the world to fight against sin and the devil.” Rotating and lifting Alexander so all could easily see his face, he finished in a booming voice, “Congregants, I present to you Alexander Darcy!”

A cheer went up, claps resounded, and shouts of Alleluia burst forth, as Mrs. Bertram and the choir added to the clamor with a rousing hymn. The noise was the final straw for Alexander who broke into serious cries just as Darcy hastily handed his candle to Lizzy and reached to rescue the upset infant from the Reverend’s arms.

After the service, a relieved and ebullient Darcy gladly welcomed the congratulations of the citizens, his jovial smile a sharp contrast to the somber man who had entered the chapel. For some reason that he could not properly identify, he felt as if a weight was lifted. In a perhaps illogical rationale, it was as if Alexander was more real now, permanent and protected in a way he had not quite been before. The final crescendo was the formal entry into the parish registry of Alexander’s full name, birth date, parents’ names, and father’s listed occupation as Master of Pemberley. A gathering of family and friends observed the procedure, Darcy applying quill to parchment page with studious intensity and writing each letter in his firm hand with precise penmanship. Legibility for centuries to come would not be an issue.