Posted On: Wednesday, 12 February 2003, at 1:47 p.m.

There was a knock at the door. Elizabeth Darcy stirred, turning toward it. "Come."

Belle, Elizabeth's maid, peeked in. "The doctor has arrived, Mrs. Darcy."

Elizabeth sleepily rumpled her brow. "I've sent for no doctor," she said.

Belle opened the door more fully and stepped over the threshold. "No, ma'am, however, Mr. Darcy has."

Elizabeth sat up in the bed. "Mr. Darcy has returned?" she asked, still more confused. She placed her hand on her stomach as another of the hated waves of nausea washed over her. Damn, would it never go away?

Belle nodded. "Yes, mum, he has returned. Very early this morning he did, long before dawn. He asked after you, and Mrs. Reynolds let him know that you are not well. He sent for the doctor himself, who is here now."

Elizabeth straightened more in the bed, and ran her fingers through her hair, raising her eyebrow. "So Mr. Darcy sent for a doctor, did he? Well. I shall have to have a discussion with Mr. Darcy when the doctor goes," she said. "Send him in."

Belle looked at her. "If you please, mum," she began, stepping further into the room.

"Belle, you know you are always free to speak your mind with me," said Elizabeth sincerely.

"It's just that I can not imagine any other motive for his call on the doctor than to keep you in good health. He is the very best of men, madam."

Elizabeth smiled weakly at the young woman. "Yes, he is," she said quietly. She stared thoughtfully through a parting in the drapery to the outside. "Perhaps when the doctor goes, you shall send someone to make a fire in the hearth? It has been very cold out these past few mornings." She smiled again upon Belle, who curtsied and scurried out the door to send in Mr. Jacobs.

"Good morning, madam," said the doctor as he strode into her bedchamber. "I'm afraid I've no prior advice on your condition. Your husband's man said only that you were ill, nothing more."

Elizabeth sighed and conducted a short, whispered conversation with the doctor, during which her cheeks turned exceptionally pink. Mr. Jacobs examined her briefly, and another whispered conversation was held. "Thank you, Mr. Jacobs, for your time. It is most appreciated in this small matter."

"It is no small matter to my friend Mr. Darcy. Shall I have him fetched for you?" he asked.

She chuckled. "I suspect Mr. Darcy shall be waiting for you in the hall. Please, do send him in. I thank you again for your time."

The doctor bowed respectfully at her and left the room; Mr. Darcy followed immediately. He paused at the door, shutting it behind him. "Elizabeth-"

"Why did you not join me last night?" she asked softly. "I know I did not expect you until this afternoon, but you might have kissed my cheek or tucked my blanket round me to let me know of your return."

He took a step forward, sitting down on the edge of her bed. "Mrs. Reynolds said you had been ill," he replied. "I did not want to disturb your sleep."

"You might have told me you were summoning Mr. Jacobs. I might have been properly dressed for him."

Darcy took his wife's hand. "I know, and I apologize for my impulsive actions, but you must understand I was thinking only of your good health. Please do not be upset with me. It has been nearly two weeks since I have seen you."

She smiled at him, patting his hand. "I am not. Thank you for being so attentive."

He raised her hand to his lips. How soft her skin was; softer than in his dreams of the past weeks. "What is Mr. Jacobs' diagnosis?"

She looked up into his eyes, knowing that he had, indeed, suspected her condition, and hoped for an answer in the affirmative. "The doctor said that I have caught cold."

Darcy looked down at his boots, feeling disappointment wash over him. It had been nearly two years since their marriage, and he was beginning to become anxious.

Elizabeth tipped his chin up so that she could look into his eyes. "And also that you shall have a child in seven months."

Fitzwilliam Darcy began to breathe heavily, as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Words could certainly not express the joy he felt in his heart. He could not decide what to do. Should he hug her? Kiss her? Set straight about setting up a nursery for the babe? He wanted to tell her how much he adored her - worshipped her now that she carried his child, how relieved he was at the fact that he was not useless to her. How he would have loved her, if not for fear of hurting her! This woman amazed him, and her gift to him did ten times that and more. To his surprise, tears came to his eyes as he said the only words he thought he could without bursting, "I love you, Elizabeth."

"Why, Mr. Darcy," teased his wife, "I believe we must call Mr. Jacobs back. It looks to me as though your chest will burst!"

He let out a breath. "I suspect it just might, my love." He bent to take her face in his and kiss them, then kissed her cheek. "I trust you are healthy?" he queried.

"Very much so, thank you," she said, smiling at him. Even in his moments of greatest pride and happiness, his refinement seemed to shine through. "I assure you, we are both strong as oxen." She continued to look into his eyes a moment. "I promised Jane that I would visit her before her child is born this Christmas. It seems I have not long before I become a shut-in myself." She gave a more amused grin.

Darcy's smile fell. "My dear wife, you must remain at home," he said. "I shall not have the health and safety of my child and wife compromised by a casual visit."

"You know this will be no casual visit," she countered, not wanting to be upset at him. "I have made a promise to Jane, and I shall keep it."

"Elizabeth, please try to see reason. It has taken us so long to conceive; I do not wish to endanger this."

Elizabeth sighed, looking down at her hands in his. "Perhaps a compromise?" she said, looking up at him again.

Darcy tilted his head at her, indicating that he would listen to her proposal.

"'Tis a short trip; only thirty miles. I shall leave this afternoon, stay tomorrow and the next day, and return the next morning. I should remain seated the entire time with Jane in her bedchamber. After that, you are free to keep me under lock and key, and inform whomever you please of my condition." She regarded him with a raised eyebrow. "Fair?"

Darcy sighed. "Yes, I suppose it is fair. You should have liked to stay the remaining months with your sister, I know. But you must not tell her, and if you do, you must do so in the strictest of confidence. What would Bingley think if he knew I was allowing my expecting wife to romp about the countryside?"

Elizabeth smiled at him. What would you think of Bingley, should you discover that he stayed with his wife during much of the birth of their daughter? she thought, wondering if he should like to do the same. She hoped he would; she could not bear it without him. "I would not worry about Mr. Bingley," she said. "Would you fetch my maid so that I may bathe and dress?"

"Certainly I would, but you must first promise me that no one will know of the babe until your return."

She grinned. "Very well, Mr. Darcy. I promise. I could not say no."

Darcy gazed adoringly at his wife, allowing a small sigh to escape his lips. "Elizabeth, you know how I hate it when you call me mister."

She smiled reassuringly at him. "I know," she said. "It is just that these two weeks without you have rendered me quite unable to address you in any other manner but formally. I am quite unused to it." Elizabeth's husband smiled at the tease. "Darcy, my dear husband, I promise to be most careful and spare no precaution the next four days. Giving birth to your child shall bring me much more joy than seeing Jane's born, and I would never endanger that. I promise I shall return before you know I have gone."

He smiled at her, enveloping her small hands in his large ones. "I doubt that, for as I said before, it has been nearly two weeks since we last touched. I have missed you, and shall miss you again, quite profusely." Again, he kissed her hands. He looked up at her, his brow rumpling as he had a thought. "Are you feeling up to this, my love?" he asked, curious.

She let out a chuckle. "No, but as it seems my condition shan't improve any time soon, I see no reason to delay the trip any longer. I should learn to live with the nausea."

He returned the smile. "The next seven months shall be difficult for you, Elizabeth. You will not take very well to lying in."

"Especially when the spring arrives," she agreed. "I imagine I shall read many books near the open window."

"It is not my intention to make you a shut-in," he said. "I know full well that I could not be happy, were I not allowed to roam my own home or its grounds. However, in your condition . . . I only beg of you to be patient for this child. For its good health and safety as well as your own."

"And your peace of mind," she said with a smile.

He nodded. "I cannot disagree; I shall be very nervous until you are delivered." He kissed her hand one last time. "I shall fetch your maid," he said, a twinkle in his eye.

She nodded at him. "Thank you."

"Elizabeth, you are being deliberately willful. It will only be another few weeks. Can you not be patient?"

"If I am being willful, you are being obstinate!" she countered. "You do not have an extra forty pounds to carry. You are free to roam about as you please. Your back does not hurt, your feet are not swollen, and you are not constantly nauseous." She put her hand on her stomach, sitting down. "Can you not see my point of view? After the long winter, it is finally pleasant enough to take a walk. That is all I am asking."

He walked toward her, and untied the bonnet she wore around her hair, pulling it off her head. "I am truly sorry, but I cannot give in. It pains me to see you suffer. It is only three more weeks. In a month's time, you shall be walking your baby son or daughter in the spring air. Please be patient. I implore you to behave."

She sat back and sighed, slowly unbuttoning her coat. "I cannot take this much longer, Mr. Darcy," she said, her tone incensed. "You are infuriating! You are no help to me! You told me it was not your intention to make me a shut-in. I have not left this house in above six weeks. Mr. Jacobs advised only that I slow down; he did not say that I should stop entirely. I have grown tired of this," she said, swallowing a sob as her eyes filled with tears, "of sitting in here staring at these walls, and my only wish is for a walk outside. You deny me this; you implore me to behave like an errant child." Elizabeth thought back to an incident two months ago. She had been hurting all day and had left her room to walk along the long hallway. The elegant marble floor was cool on her swollen feet and the length of the hall allowed her to walk - or waddle - without concern for where furniture might have been placed. When her husband came upstairs to retire and saw her out of her bed and out of her room, he was furious with her, and demanded to know why she was not in her bed. Being both tired and frustrated with him and herself, she had not wanted another fight, and so played the obedient wife. She apologized, crawled into bed, and tossed for yet another restless and uncomfortable night. I should not have been submissive, she thought. I should have thrown him out and locked the door.

Darcy knew not what to do. He had been raised that expecting women did not venture from their rooms, did not take walks no matter the weather, did not disobey or curse their husbands. Elizabeth obviously had different ideas. Perhaps if your mother had not been so half-witted and had given your father a son, you would not be this way. You would not have spent so much time with your father. You would not be sitting in front of me now, cursing me because of what society deems is or is not appropriate. Perhaps you would not be sitting here at all. He sighed to himself. Perhaps you would be as silly as Mrs. Wickham is. He did not suppose anyone wanted that, least of all Mr. Darcy himself. But no matter her upbringing, at present she was his wife and she would damn well behave. "Mrs. Darcy, I believe I have expressed my compassion for your condition. However, under no circumstances are you to leave this room until that has been alleviated. You are no longer a child at Longbourn, you are the mistress of this house - of my house, and you shall behave as such." With that, he turned on his heel, and calmly walked out the door, closing them as he left.

Mrs. Darcy threw her bonnet at the closed doors. Damn him anyway! She rose, with some difficulty now as her child had grown considerably the past weeks, and locked those doors behind him. "Very well, Mr. Darcy. If you will not permit me to leave, I will not permit you to enter. I will not be treated like this." She crawled onto a chaise to try and get some rest, vowing to herself that he would not see her as long as she would not see the outside.

Darcy stormed down the steps, seething with frustration. He could not blame her for wanting to walk, or for stamping her foot, or for anything she had done the past six months. But his rearing had told him she should be quiet and listen to him during this time; that he knew what was best for her and the child. Yet how could that be? It was her child as well, and she carried it under her heart. He was certainly no doctor. Entering his study, he sat at the desk to write the only source of help he had.

May 3, 1814
Pemberley House

Dear Mrs. Bingley,

I write you this evening due to yet another confrontation with Mrs. Darcy. You are her sister and closest friend; therefore I implore you for help in this matter.

As you know she is close to giving birth to our first child, a child which took over two years to conceive. Throughout her confinement she has been restless and frustrated with her close quarters and pain. She and I share a love of nature, and not being able to indulge in the delights of spring has caused significant stress of late. Her need to stay confined is not sitting well with her, and since the beginning our very relationship has been rocky, to say the least, due to my reasonable request that she stay put. When I returned from Lambton this afternoon, she was bundled to go out for a walk, which I would certainly not permit. Needless to say, she is no longer speaking to me.

I wish only for our child's good health and safety. I do not do these things because I wish to hurt Mrs. Darcy, though I know they are having this effect. My upbringing was quite traditional, but Elizabeth is not the traditional type of woman. That is why I love her so greatly. There must be some kind of middle ground in which to meet.

Again I beg for your prompt response, as I would like to resolve this before the child is born. It would be most appreciated.

Yours &c.

Fitzwilliam Darcy

Jane Bingley held the letter in her hand, a smile spread across her face. She looked to her right to see Mr. Bingley sitting on the bed behind her, holding his son, also smiling. "What do you suppose I should advise our friend Mr. Darcy?"

"I believe Mr. Darcy would benefit from our experience," he replied. "Perhaps when you have finished feeding young Master Bingley you should write him. When you are through I shall send a footman to Pemberley." He stood to hand her the baby.

"Thank you, Charles," she said with a smile, accepting her son. She opened the front of her robe, and put him to her breast. Bingley stood behind the rocking chair that his mother had once rocked him in, watching. After a moment, he placed his hand on her shoulder.

"I shall leave you now to your son. When you have written a reply to Mr. Darcy, ask your maid to fetch me. I shall be in the library." He bent to kiss her forehead and smile, then left the room.

Jane had always thoroughly enjoyed this time; mostly because of the quietness it provided her with her child. It relaxed her, soothing away the frustration caused by screaming children and a hectic household. When Andrew had finished, she rocked with him a while longer, his head upon her shoulder, until he slept. She laid him in the bassinet and sat at her desk to reply to her dear brother.

May 5, 1812
Brettford Manor

Dear Mr. Darcy,

I understand you have not time to read through unnecessary civilities; therefore I shall get directly to the point.

The first thing you must remember is that Elizabeth is extremely free-spirited, making any kind of confinement extremely difficult for her. You really must be patient; this time is no easier for her.

I have been corresponding with her since she last visited five months ago. You must believe me when I say that she really is trying to be good. Following is an excerpt from one of her letters:

"Of late, I have found myself quite lonely. Mama's letters only serve to aggravate me, and you know how Papa is with writing letters. There is no longer any book interesting enough to occupy my mind, no needlework I find challenging. My maid, Belle, has an extraordinary talent for quilting, and in the beginning I thought perhaps she could show me how. It is much more complicated than I had first thought, and I found myself unable to concentrate with pain constantly nagging my back. Mr. Darcy is away much of the time, as normal; therefore I am without his company for conversation. I dwell on his absence sometimes and find I miss him terribly, but I know this is because of my condition. Truthfully he remains home more often since my confinement, and when I am in a proper mood he takes his tea with me in my rooms, and we converse quite happily. How joyous he was when first he felt the babe kick! Unfortunately for Mr. Darcy, I am hardly ever in a proper mood. I understand this is a frustration for him and I try to be good. He asks that I remain in my rooms, and I have not yet reminded him of his promise to me that I would not be a shut-in, but if there is no change soon, I shall. He knows of my love of nature. I do not wish to disappoint or upset him or I would bundle myself and take a walk without his permission. I need to find some relief of the constant boredom and discomfort. I feel as though I am locked in my bedroom like an errant child."

As you can see, Mr. Darcy, she is seeing your point of view. She is giving of her patience to you, but it has limits, as does yours.

I am certain your traditional upbringing will find you shocked and quite possibly appalled at what I have to say next, but please, take it to heart.

Upon the discovery of the impending birth of young Sarah Bingley, your friend Mr. Bingley was quite overjoyed. We, too, were strained at the unfolding of events thereafter, as we learned the unpleasant aspects of bringing children into the world. However, Mr. Bingley, being more good-natured than anyone I have known, seemed to sympathize with my situation, and though he asked that I remain placid and quiet, he did not make me remain placid and quiet. He was most forgiving, knowing that I was not myself.

During the last weeks of my confinement, he stayed at my side with Elizabeth, and were it not for my mother's arrival, he would have stayed through Sarah's birth despite the objections of the doctor. This accomplished two things. He was able to witness the goings-on, rather than listening to my screams from out in the hall, which put his mind at ease, knowing I was not harmed. I had his support and love to help in the delivery. Child birth is a very painful and difficult thing, sir, and your wife is going to need that help. I'm certain that if you speak with Bingley, he will tell you of no regrets.

One more word of advice is to allow Elizabeth to walk. Perhaps on a quiet morning through the upstairs, or down to listen to Georgiana play her pianoforte. Perhaps even outside, should a dry spring day arrive. This exercise will physically help in child birth, and perhaps ease her mind a bit.

I know you are not as tolerant as Bingley; however, I do hope you see some sense in these words. Your wife loves you dearly, and she is not purposely being difficult. She is not herself, and you must remember that the majority of the pressure is upon her shoulders. Or perhaps I should say her hips.

I shall probably see you the day after you receive this letter, and until I do, may you and your wife remain in the best of health.

Yours &c.

Mrs. Charles Bingley

"Good God, Bingley," he said aloud. I knew he was agreeable, thought Darcy, but present for a birth? Most inappropriate. He continued reading. Mrs. Gardiner would never stand for it, he decided. Or perhaps she might. Perhaps I could be with Elizabeth, if not for just an hour or two . . .

I must take her for a walk. How selfish I have been! I am all she has at present and I have neglected her. He chuckled lightly at the last sentences of Mrs. Bingley's letter, refolded it, and caught Mrs. Reynolds as she walked through the drawing room. "Mrs. Reynolds," he called, "would you please fetch Belle for me?"

Mrs. Reynolds stopped and turned, confused. "Yes, sir," she replied, wondering what on earth he could want with Mrs. Darcy's maid.

A few minutes later Belle stood in front of Mr. Darcy, who was re-reading Jane's letter. He chuckled. "This make perfect sense!" he declared, setting it down as Belle curtsied. "Hello, Belle," he said.

She nodded. "Master Darcy," she said nervously. A very pretty girl, Belle was quite young to be the mistress's maid already. Elizabeth had chosen her because of her honest face and quiet disposition. She had proven very trustworthy, talented, and dependable, though she was still clearly petrified of her mistress' husband.

"I understand you have a key to Mrs. Darcy's bedchamber," he queried.

"Yes, sir, I have that key," she said. "I shall fetch it straight away." She curtsied and was about to exit the room.

"Belle, wait," said Darcy, standing. "Please, wait just a moment. If Mrs. Darcy entrusted the key to you with the instructions not to give it to me, I shall respect that. I would not ask you to betray her trust."

She bowed her head a little before she answered. "Mrs. Darcy gave the key to me upon her arrival," she said, "and two days ago told me that if you were to ask for it I was to make my own decision whether to do so. I know she is upset with you," she whispered, "but if you intend to make amends with her, I shall open the door for you myself. I do not like to see her upset."

Mr. Darcy smiled at her. "Thank you, Belle," he said. "You shall fetch the key then, and bring it to me in my study?"

"Yes, sir," she said, curtsying, and left the room.

An hour or so later, Mr. Darcy silently unlocked his wife's door, stepping inside. She lay on the bed, her hair a mound of unruly curls upon the pillow as she rested on her side. He tiptoed over to her, gently laying the paper and a single rose next to her, and just as silently as he entered, exited the room.

Elizabeth stirred at the sound of the door closing. She felt something under her arm and sat up. "What is this?" She beheld the rose and the letter. "I see you've procured a key, Mr. Darcy," she said. She smelled the flower and picked up the letter. "My Love," she read on the outside. She opened it and groggily read.

My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth,

The night of our last meeting, out of frustration, I wrote to your sister Mrs. Bingley for help. Her response was, to say the least, both surprising and enlightening, and most helpful.

I must first let you know how truly sorry I am for neglecting you. There is no other reason or excuse but my foolish pride. I knew when we wed that you were a lively spirit; indeed, that is a great ingredient of my love for you. I feel excessively nervous at the prospect of becoming a father, and I do not wish anything to endanger that. You can not imagine the pride and joy I felt when I received a congratulatory letter on our conception from Mr. Bennet. I believe I very nearly burst. I am not ashamed at having a pregnant wife, and no longer think it to be socially inappropriate, nor something which should be concealed.

I know it is nearly too late for me to rectify any damage I have done, but I must try, and I must at least apologize. I hope I shall have opportunity again to help you through childbed.

If you are not still intensely angry with me, please meet me in the library upon receipt of this feeble rose.

Yours Forever,

Fitzwilliam Darcy
Proud and Arrogant Husband
Concerned and Joyous Expecting Father

She smiled at the letter, rubbing her eyes. She was shocked at his explicit use of words in the second paragraph, but it was not the first time he had ever surprised her, nor did she suppose it would be the last. She searched about the room for something to put on. It was late, and therefore she did not expect any servants to be about. She pulled on a heavier, looser nightgown, for it covered more skin than the one she wore, and put on her silk robe. It was not large enough to close around her, but it would keep her shoulders warm.

For the first time in five months, she opened her doors and stepped out to the hallway. With candle in hand she walked to the staircase, and navigated it slowly. She walked down one hall, turned, and walked down another. At the end she could see candlelight flickering from the library. She approached, and stood in the doorway, her hand on her stomach. He stood, momentarily breathless with surprise and delight at her arrival. He paused a minute, staring at her in the doorway. As she smiled at him, he thought she was more beautiful than he had ever seen her, one hand perched upon her ever-growing belly, the other daintily holding a candle.

"Elizabeth," he said, holding out his hand. She took it. "Are you warm enough?"

"Yes, I am quite warm, thank you."

He led her to the couch to sit her down, and sat with her. "Elizabeth," he said, catching his breath, "Elizabeth, please allow me to tell you how sorry I am. Deeply and truly sorry for having treated you like an invalid. Come, walk with me," he said, taking her hand again.

He led her down the hall, and carefully to the entrance of the house. He couldn't help but notice her smile, something which he had not seen for weeks, as he led her outside. "'Tis a dry night," he said, "and warm as well. Do you have slippers on?"

She shook her head, a sparkle in her eye. "If it is dry and warm, it should not matter."

He nodded in agreement, and led her up a hill near the back of the house. "My love, I present to you the stars," he said, gesturing to the sky. "I never should have kept this sight from your beautiful eyes."

Elizabeth breathed in the night air, inhaling down to her toes. She didn't know what Jane had said to Mr. Darcy to evoke such a reaction, such a change of heart, but she knew she was indebted to her.

"Your child kicks constantly," she said after a moment, still smiling. "You should know he or she is quite healthy, with very strong legs. Perhaps he will be a good rider."

Darcy smiled at the prospect. "Perhaps. Perhaps she will be a good rider."

"Would you prefer a son to a daughter?" she asked.

"I would prefer that my wife and child are healthy and suffer no ill effect of birth," he replied, quite seriously. "You must believe that I have thought of nothing more than that during the past months. Had I known I was being so overbearing, I never would have-"

"Stop," she said, silencing him with a finger to his lips. "Please, let us forget our differences. It is over now. We should concentrate on our child."

He smiled at her, marveling at her forgiving nature. "Very well," he said. "I don't suppose, when the child comes, we should refer to him or her as 'the child.' We have yet to discuss a name." They began to walk again.

"I had assumed you should like to name your son and heir after you," she said.

"I had not thought about it," he replied. "I am not entirely certain that is what I would wish to do. It would give me great pride; however . . . I might also like my son to have his own name. But, in any case, Fitzwilliam is not exactly a name appropriate for a girl."

She shook her head in agreement. "No, I don't suppose it is."

"Elizabeth is a very appropriate name for a girl." He sweetly kissed her hand.

"Please, not Elizabeth," she begged with a smile.

"Perhaps some derivative of it?" he said. "Lisa or Beth?"

"No," she laughed. "Not Elizabeth, not Lisa, not Beth. I would like a more unusual name; something less common."

"A splendid idea, but nothing so strange as to be odd or peculiar." He thought a moment, holding her hand as they walked. "Perhaps . . . Rebecca."

"A pretty name," she answered, "but I know two ladies named Rebecca, and am particularly fond of neither."

"Well, then," he said, deciding this was much harder than he supposed, "what is your suggestion?"

"I like . . . Cassandra."

"It seems very plain to me, but it is your decision."

"The problem with English names is that they are almost all very plain," she said, also a little frustrated. "We must name her something . . . different."

"Something Chinese?" he joked.

"Not quite so different," she said with a smile.

They walked along a while in silence. After they had passed the house, Darcy spoke. "When I was . . . I believe I was two and twenty, I was touring the continent. I believe I was with Fitzwilliam . . . no, it was Bingley. Our guide had both a son and daughter who visited for a time, while we were in Italy; the son my age, and the daughter about Georgiana's age at the time. They had come from a prosperous country family, much like your own. She was tall at her age, very beautiful for one so young. She spoke very eloquently and was well-read, so much so that in meeting her, I assumed she was much older, at least my own age. She took a liking to me, and we got on very well, as I did with her brother. We became friends during the time Bingley and I were there. When we left Italy, I began corresponding with her brother. I still hear from him from time to time. Quite a number of months after my return to Pemberley, I received a letter from him, telling me that his sister had died of rheumatic fever. I was devastated. She reminded me so much of my own sister, I suppose, that I took it very hard; very . . . personally. And yet, I had known her for so short a time; we were in Italy less than a month. It was such a shock . . . it made me to appreciate my friendships as well as my family. The young girl's name was Madeline . . . perhaps you would consent to so naming your daughter."

"I would," she said. "A less meaningful name would not do."

They stopped, and he turned to her, smiling. "Thank you," he said. He kissed her forehead. "I know this has been the briefest of walks, but it is dark outside. It was dusk when I received Mrs. Bingley's letter. Perhaps Georgiana will consent to play for you, even at this late hour, or we could read by candlelight in the library."

"No," she said, "I believe you are tired, and I have been tired these past months. We both need rest." She smiled at him.

He placed his hand on her swelling middle, throwing her one of his rare, toothy smiles at her as the baby kicked. "Tell me, my love, does that little foot inside you give you pain?"

She returned his smile. "More pleasure than pain," she replied. "But yes, it does hurt a little of late."

"The kicks will soon come from the outside," he assured her with another smile. "Come, let us retire." He offered his arm, and she took it, following the lantern back to the house.

He helped her slowly waddle up the stairs and led her into her room. He helped her undress, and upon seeing her naked body, big with child these many months, he suddenly realized how uncomfortable she must be, and was sorry all over again for having treated her as he did. He told her as much, walking to her, placing his hand again on her middle, amazed at how hot her skin was. "Elizabeth," he said, drawing even closer, "how I have missed you . . ." He reached out to touch her shoulder, but did not stop there. Soon he had all of her in his arms, trying very hard to avoid her sensitive areas.

"I have missed you as well, Darcy," she said. He held her close for a moment, then pulled back.

"Perhaps a nightgown?" he suggested.

She nodded, the smile still on her lips. "The pink one," she said, pointing.

He took it from the divan at the foot of the bed. "It has been too long since we spent a night together in this room," he said. "There was most certainly snow upon the ground. At least three months."

"I toss at night," she said. "I believe you would be better off sleeping in your separate bedchamber. I would be no help to you in your business if you did not sleep."

"I agree," he said, his eyes twinkling, "however, tomorrow is Saturday, and I most certainly will not work this Saturday, as it is my birthday. I have never really liked my separate bedchamber. My father did not spend much time there, and it therefore holds no happy memories. We have not spent a night there. It is indeed a lonely place," he nodded.

"You are certainly welcome to stay in my bedchamber, though upon reflection, I have always thought it our bedchamber. I only warn you of your certain discomfort due to mine." She smiled at him, running her fingers over his cheek.

He pulled the nightgown over her head, smiling as it draped itself over her. "Come let me lay you down."

She followed him to the bed and let him help her in. He undressed himself, walking around to the other side, and snuggled close to her. "This is a wonderful sensation," he said, and she could feel him smile against her back. "If only I had this warmth two months ago instead of that blasted fire that kept going out."

"Sometimes it is not the closeness that brings such heat to a room; rather it is the shared intimacies. Especially in this room," she smiled.

"Yes, we have had many of those," he agreed. He kissed her neck, and she rolled over to return his gesture. They kissed deeply for a few minutes, more deeply than they had in at least one month; perhaps two. He broke their last kiss and looked intently into her eyes. "Perhaps it might be best if I were lonely tonight. I do not wish to hurt you with any further shared intimacies."

She shook her head. "There would be no harm done," she assured him. "Mr. Jacobs happened to mention it, so quickly, in fact, that I am fortunate that I heard him. He said that as long as care was taken to avoid my seemingly never-ending stomach, there would be no concerns."

"Are you certain, my sweet?"

"Quite certain," she said, smiling again.

He smiled and dove into her lips once more.

Darcy woke happily the next morning, his wife in his arms. He groggily watched her sleep a while; she seemed actually restful. He kissed her cheek, and rose from the bed. He found his robe in the closet, as always, and wrapped himself in it with a smile, leaving the room to bathe.

As he sipped his tea in the morning room, reading a letter from Colonel Fitzwilliam, he noticed a very nervous Belle standing in the doorway. "Belle?"

She stepped a little closer. "Master Darcy, sir, good morning," she said quietly.

"Good morning, Belle," he smiled. "Is there something I can do for you, at all?" he inquired, a little amused at her discomfiture.

"Sir," she began again, "Mrs. Darcy wishes to see you in her bedchamber right away."

Darcy looked above the rim of his teacup at the young girl, and from her expression, which he previously had thought laughable, he knew whatever his wife needed to see him about was of the utmost seriousness. He put his cup down and thanked Belle, hurrying to Elizabeth's side.

"What is it, my sweet?" he asked tenderly, dropping to his knees by her bedside and kissing her hand.

"Darcy," she said, almost breathless, "I believe our child is ready to enter the world." She smiled at him excitedly, yet nervously. She was not due for delivery for at least another three weeks. Also, Elizabeth's pains were coming frequently; Jane had told her comfortingly that they would come slowly. "Perhaps we should send someone to fetch Mr. Jacobs, and someone to Brettford for my aunt and Jane."

He smiled widely. "Yes, I shall send for them. I shall find someone," he said, rising. His heart was beating wildly in his chest. "I shall return directly . . . stay there." He kissed her hand as he walked away.

He was only a few steps down the hall when he heard her yell in pain, and he tore back to her side. "Elizabeth," he said, his heart beating more and more strongly, "Elizabeth, are you all right?"

She laughed at him despite her pain, touching his cheek. "Yes, I believe this is quite normal, as difficult as that may be for us both to believe."

"Shall I send in Belle to comfort you?" he asked.

"I shall be perfectly well until you return," she smiled.

He nodded. "Very well. Remain still," he instructed as he walked away once more.

He was at her side on the bed over three hours later when Belle tentatively knocked on the door. "Master Darcy," she whispered.

"Yes, Belle?" he said, rising and walking to the door.

"I'm afraid Mr. Jacobs was not available; he was in surgery when Reynolds found him. He's sent a different doctor, and promised to be along shortly."

Darcy was infuriated. Mr. Jacobs was the best there was in Derbyshire, and he insisted that his wife be given the best of care. "Where is this doctor?" he asked, trying not to take his anger out on Belle.

"Right here," said a loud voice, and a tall, arrogant-looking man stepped forward. "I am Mr. Weldon. Step aside, sir, your wife is in capable hands." He brushed past Mr. Darcy to enter the room, and closed the door behind him.

Darcy looked at Belle. "I do not like this man," he said, and tried to open the door. It was locked. "Damnation! Belle, give me your key."

Belle obediently reached in her pocket and handed it to him. "May I suggest, sir, that you keep it for the time being."

"I have no intention of leaving this room again, thank you, Belle." He moved to unlock the door. "Mr. Weldon will need your help; stay with us."

Belle nodded nervously and followed Darcy as the door opened. He stormed toward Mr. Weldon. "I demand to know what you think you're doing, inviting yourself into my wife's chamber!" he yelled, finally able to unleash his fury.

"Sir," said the man, quite indignant, "I am here to help her. I understand you may be nervous, however, I am quite capable. I suggest you send in her maid, and perhaps be about some business until the child arrives," he said, opening his case. "You have no place here."

"Darcy," said Elizabeth weakly from the bed, holding out her hand, "Darcy, please do not go. Please."

Darcy looked at her gently, and then back at the doctor. "I will thank you to simply perform your duty as a physician and never mind my place. Pemberley is my home, and I shall decide what my place is." He turned and walked to Elizabeth's side.

"Darcy," she repeated, "please, I have no one else. I would want no one else. Please, I am frightened."

"I am here," he said, gripping her hand. "Elizabeth, do not be frightened. All will be well, I promise." He looked her over; she was pale and sweating, and her voice was weak. "Doctor, how is she?"

"Mr. Darcy, I assure you, she will be fine. You do not need to stay. I really am quite-"

"Listen to me, for I am only going to say this once," said Mr. Darcy in a threatening tone. "I am going to stay precisely where I am; do you understand me, Doctor? Right here. Do not bring this subject up again. Now turn your attention to my wife and her child."

"Mr. Darcy, you must know how fiercely I must oppose-"

"Do you not listen?" yelled Darcy, as Elizabeth yelled in pain. "My wife requires your medical help, and that is all I want of you."

Weldon sighed, knowing he was defeated. This Mr. Darcy was one of the most powerful men in four counties around; who was he to debate the issue? "Very well, Mr. Darcy." He nodded and went about examining Mrs. Darcy.

He hemmed and hawed for a few moments, and there was a knock at the door. Jane followed Mrs. Gardiner into the room. "Lizzy," said Jane, holding out her hand.

Elizabeth took it, and accepted a kiss from her aunt. "How long have you been in pain?" asked Mrs. Gardiner.

"Only a few hours," answered Elizabeth. "Three, perhaps four."

"Well," she said with a smile, "this has come about quite quickly, but I've no doubt everything will turn out well. Mr. Bingley is waiting for you downstairs, Mr. Darcy," she said with a pointed look at her nephew.

"I have no need of Bingley," snapped Darcy. "I will stay where I am."

"No, Darcy, you must go," whispered Elizabeth from her bed. "My aunt and Jane are here; they have done this before and can help me now. You must be patient." She stroked his face and smiled. "Please. It will not be long, and I promise that Jane will keep you informed."

Darcy was forced to acquiesce, and kissed her hand, her cheek, and her forehead as he stood. He watched her smile at him weakly, then glared at the doctor and Jane both, and left the room.

An hour or so after he had begun pacing the halls, Belle approached him nervously. "Master Darcy," she began, "Mr. Jacobs arrived a few minutes ago. He is in with Mrs. Darcy. Mr. Weldon has gone."

Darcy nodded. He turned to pace again, but instead, addressed his wife's maid. "Is there any word?"

"Not yet, sir," she said, trying to give him a reassuring smile. "But Mrs. Gardiner keeps telling Mrs. Darcy that she is doing well."

"Thank you," was all he said in reply, and Belle turned to continue to assist Mrs. Darcy. Darcy turned to continue to pace the halls.

The sun had been fully set for at least half an hour when he stopped next.

After he left it, Elizabeth's labor room had been eerily quiet. When he had gathered up enough courage to face both Mrs. Gardiner and Mrs. Reynolds' wrath, he had stopped his incessant pacing of Pemberley's halls in front of that room. He had wanted to burst through the door when he heard Elizabeth moan a little and Mrs. Gardiner remind her to "breathe through the pain." Mrs. Reynolds had just been exiting the room to collect some fresh cold water, and with one look sent him back on his way, pacing. Still, some time later, he could hear Elizabeth scream in great pain from one floor below . . . once . . . twice . . . three times . . . a reprieve of little more than a moment . . . once, twice . . . and then no more. Where he had been when those cries began, he stayed, wanting anxiously to know what it meant.

He had almost made himself move when Jane placed her hand on his arm. He turned. She smiled.

"Elizabeth?"

"Very well, sir," she said in response, "as is your new daughter."

He sighed visibly, relieved. Turning to glance out the window, he nodded, and turned back to Jane. "May I see her, Mrs. Bingley?"

"Of course," replied Jane, and moved out of his way so that he wouldn't trample her in his pursuit of Elizabeth's room.

Without knocking, he entered the room slowly. She sat with her eyes closed, the bed heaped in covers, a mound of pillows behind her. Closing the door, he walked over to her and gently picked up her hand. She opened her eyes, looked up at him, and smiled.

"Hello."

He breathed another sigh of relief and sat next to her. "Elizabeth." He kissed her forehead, then her hand again. "You are well?"

"I am, sir," she replied. "I am sorry it took so long, but we are all well. I am no worse for the wear."

He smiled again, and started to feel giddy. This was much better than he had expected, considering the horror stories he had heard from countless others, and what he remembered his own mother had been put through with Georgiana's birth, and his brother's, which had taken both lives.

A smile tickled his lips. "May I see her?"

Elizabeth motioned to Belle, and within a moment or two, Darcy's daughter was in his arms. He stared at her for a long moment before he looked up at his wife, happiness effused over his face, and proclaimed, "She really is quite beautiful."

Elizabeth smiled. "I could not but agree. Should you still like to call her Madeline?"

"Yes, I should. Do you approve?"

"Very much," she replied. "But suppose you held your son. What would you call him?"

Darcy looked up at his wife and smiled, replying very seriously, "I had not long known of your condition when I decided that no other name would do but Bennet."

Touched, she blushed. "For my father?"

"No. For you." He smirked at her. "As you well know, Lizzy."

She touched his knee and smiled in return. "Then, if you would give Madeline to Belle . . ."

"May I not hold her a while longer?" He looked truly hurt.

"Please."

Belle was given Madeline and she set her down in a bassinet near Elizabeth's bed. Jane came into the room, and placed a bundle in his arms.

"I am quite pleased to introduce Bennet Darcy to his father." She smiled up at him. "Happy birthday," she said sleepily.

"Elizabeth . . . twins?" She smiled sleepily at her husband, and nodded. "But how could you have not known?"

She laughed at him a little. "How could I have known?" she asked, then observed him as he looked at his tiny new son. Soon Belle came to take him away for a bath and a feeding, and Elizabeth noted that her husband looked quite disappointed when the babe was lifted from his arms. "He is a very handsome child, is he not? I believe he favors you, Darcy."

"And our daughter, where is she? I am sure I observed that she favors you, my dear Lizzy, and is, therefore, the most beautiful child in all of England."

Elizabeth smiled. "Mr. Jacobs said that they are both in the best of health. He said that they are quite large for twin babies, even though they do seem rather tiny."

"They are remarkable, as are you." He kissed her forehead and removed his coat, walking around the bed to lay next to her. He climbed up on the bed, boots and all, and wrapped his arms around her. Thus the Darcy family, Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth, Madeline, and Bennet, slept comfortably, Pemberley House only to prosper through the years.