My Dearest Mr. Darcy: An Amazing Journey into Love Everlasting

Chapter Fifteen Thirty Is an Auspicious Number

Lizzy returned to her self-appointed duties with a relieved smile on her face. She would not feel completely secure until she could feel his solidity under her hands and gaze upon his healthy face, but her anxiety was alleviated. While apprehension waned with subsequent letters written in an ever increasingly firm hand, desolation and melancholy flourished unabated. The pain in her heart rose with each passing day, allayed somewhat in rejuvenating sleep and sweet dreams.

As the third week without her husband advanced, Lizzy and Georgiana walked to the orphanage in the Village. They each carried a basket filled with baked treats for the children, dressed warmly against the chill air. October had passed into November, the last of the Pemberley harvests reaped and marketed. The fields now lay tilled and bare. A light drizzle of rain had fallen last evening, leaving the ground moist with shallow puddles in places, but today was clear with the clouds lingering over the Peaks.

“If William were here he would predict the rains, whether they are gone for now or to return.” Lizzy spoke softly, gazing at the horizon.

Georgiana smiled, squeezing her sister's arm. “Yes, he always knows. It is a gift I do not possess. Of course, if he were here he would likely forbid you to walk, especially if he judges the rains to resume.”

Lizzy laughed. “True, although I think I would welcome his overprotective domination if it meant I could hear his voice.”

“He shall be home soon, Lizzy. He will not miss his birthday. He knows how important it is to you, and nothing will keep him away.”

“As desperately as I need him, I fear him overtaxing and becoming ill again.” She sighed loudly and shook her head. “Enough! He has begged me not to fret, to trust him, and I will. His letter yesterday said all was proceeding expeditiously.”

“Did he give any indication of when he would be home?”

“No, unfortunately. I think he is afraid to say much so as to not disappoint. In truth I do not expect him for another week, probably breezing in exhausted on the day before his birthday!”

“Why so long?”

“He had reckoned it would take two weeks at the least to conclude his affairs, and I think he was being generous at that so as not to increase my distress.” She smiled at his ever conscious desire to assuage. “He was ill for a week, if my figuring is correct, then the slow recovery. I can still discern a weakness in his handwriting and weariness in his words. I am sure he is not able to work up to his normal stamina.”

“Well, perhaps you are correct, and I suppose it best he take it slowly. Still, I know he will be here by his birthday! William always keeps his promises.”

The children jumped for joy, delighting in the treats and affection from Mrs. Darcy and Miss Darcy. The joyful, innocent presence of the children never failed to cheer Lizzy, the afternoon hours spent very happily with only fleeting thoughts of her husband intruding. Toward the end of their visit, as the clouds were gradually blowing back toward the valley, Lizzy felt the preliminary twinges of pain.

She held a newer arrival to the orphanage, a girl of three years, as she stood watching groups of children playing hopscotch and jumping rope. One minute everything was roses, Lizzy laughing at the antics and blissfully snuggling the soft body against her breast, when the familiar vague contractions were abruptly displaced by a sharp stab of pain lanced through her abdomen rippling from back to front and down to her groin. It resembled the innocuous false labor pains that Dr. Darcy assured were normal and necessary, but was far more intense. She gasped, bending involuntarily as she rubbed over her belly. It passed as swiftly as it came, Lizzy breathing deeply and almost convincing herself it was not significant when an identical pain struck. She released a squeal, doubling over and nearly dropping the little girl, who was clinging to her neck in fright.

“Mrs. Darcy? Are you well?” It was Miss Seymour, the orphanage director, inquiring as she rushed to rescue the child.

“No, I think I need to sit. Oh!”

Rapid activity ensued, Georgiana calling immediately for the nearest carriage. In short order Lizzy was home, George carrying her to her third-floor chamber in an amazingly strong grip for such a thin man. The pains continued at an irregular rhythm and intensity. Lizzy realized once the initial shock was past that the pains were not horrible, but definitely more severe than normal. It was the stress of what they signified that sent her into trembling sobs.

“Calm yourself, Elizabeth. Georgiana dear, hold her hand and speak soothingly. Elizabeth, I must be allowed to examine you. Relax, all will be well.”

His final sentence, uttered in Darcy's gentle tone, was more then she could handle. “George, I cannot… have this baby… now…”

“Well, he may very well have a differing plan, my dear, but we will not know until you settle down. This may be unpleasant and embarrassing, Elizabeth. I am sorry.” He kept a steady stream of placating murmuring as he performed the intimate examination, Lizzy far too distraught to be embarrassed.

“Listen carefully, niece. At this point there is no internal indication that your baby wishes to be born.” He laid his broad hands over her abdomen, palpating the intermittent muscle contractions. “The pains are not regular, which is a good thing. Mrs. Reynolds,” he said, turning to the housekeeper standing nearby, “ask Mrs. Langton to brew a large pot of very strong tea, dregs included, of red raspberry leaf and chaste tree leaf. She has the herbs as I supplied them prophylactically. Elizabeth, focus on me, dear.”

Lizzy was crying silently, enormous tears sliding down her cheeks, but she met his sympathetic blue eyes. “Listen, dear, very clearly to me. If your baby does decide now is the time for his birth, he is near enough to complete maturity that he will likely be healthy. He feels to be of a sufficient size.” He pressed his long, firm fingers into her belly on both sides of the swell, palpating the shape hidden inside.

“You can ascertain his size?” Lizzy asked with surprise.

“It is not an exact science, but one develops a sense for these things over time. I am an excellent diagnostician, if I say so myself, and not half bad as an obstetrician.” Lizzy could not prevent a tiny chuckle escaping, George smiling in return. “There, better, Elizabeth?” She nodded faintly. “Good. It is vital you remain calm. The tea I ordered may halt the contractions, but primarily you need to rest. My professional opinion is you have been given a fright and a warning. However, this could be a sign that you will not be waiting until December. Only time will reveal. In the meantime I am restricting you to your bed.”

Lizzy was weeping again, Georgiana smoothing the hair from her brow as Mrs. Reynolds entered the room. “George,” Lizzy whispered between soft sobs, “please, I cannot do this without William! I need him…”

“Shhhh… Be still. Say no more, Elizabeth, as I concur. Do not fear; I will send for him.”

Dr. Darcy's summons, conveyed by one of Pemberley's own groomsmen on the fastest horse available after Parsifal, finally reached Darcy after first being delivered to Darcy House and then the offices of Mr. Daniels before discovering the addressee busily working up a vigorous sweat at Angelo's Fencing Academy. It was the only recreation Darcy had engaged in during the weeks in London and the only reason he had broken from his self-proscribed strict business agenda for this excursion was a raging need for physical exercise.

However, moments prior to the message's delivery he was beginning to seriously doubt the wisdom of his actions. The symptoms from his illness were essentially gone with the exception of a nagging cough and persistent muscle fatigue. He stood in the center of the floor facing his current adversary, Lord Miles Holt, whom he had prevailed over each time in the past, wheezing and six points behind! So much for proving your potency and health, Darcy! he thought with towering sarcasm and chagrin.

The interruption by the Academy's manager was abundantly welcomed by a frankly gasping Mr. Darcy, but followed by instant fresh sweat, this time of the cold variety, with the appearance of a Pemberley groom.

“Forgive me, gentlemen, for the disruption. Mr. Darcy, this man has a message for you.” The groom nervously stepped forward, bowing as he handed the sealed parchment to his Master. Darcy removed his protective glasses with a slightly tremulous hand, murmuring his pardons as he exited the room.

William,

Forgive the abruptness of this letter, nephew. First, Elizabeth is well. However, today she began suffering with true birth pains. Even as I write this note the pains have lessened and the baby shows no overt signs of an imminent arrival; therefore, my medical opinion is that you will not be a father quite yet. Nonetheless, Elizabeth needs you. Tarry no longer, William. Do not be reckless, but come home.

George

Darcy's heart constricted painfully, lips pressing together in a tight line. Not hesitating for a second, nor allowing the fear to overwhelm him, he jumped into action. The hasty and rude orders barked at Pemberley were courteous compared to the rampage he went on once at Darcy House. The effect was as he demanded, though. Within an hour the Darcy carriage was clomping away from Grosvenor Square toward Derbyshire. He refused to halt until well after dark, resting at a cheap carriage inn for six hours. He was again on the road as dawn broke over the eastern horizon.

Weary with grey circles under his eyes, rumpled, unshaven, and jittery with anxiety, Darcy caught his first sight of the pinnacles atop Pemberley by early afternoon. Relief washed through him, tears stinging the eyes that automatically lifted to the southeast corner windows. Naturally from this distance he could see nothing of significance, the manor as beautiful and serene as always.

“Hold on, beloved. I am home.”

The relief to be at Pemberley was palpable, but only partially allayed Darcy's paralyzing anxiety. He sat in the stopped carriage waiting for the coachman to open the door rather than hurdling out as he anticipated doing for the simple reason that he was terrified at what he might find. The cold gust of air hitting his face when the door opened restored him and with a steadying inhale, he disembarked.

Apparently no one had witnessed his unexpected arrival, the footman Georges glancing up in surprise when Darcy walked into the foyer. He snapped to attention briskly, his greeting interrupted brusquely by his Master.

“Where is Mrs. Darcy?” His voice was firm, the fear at the answer well hidden.

“Mrs. Darcy is in your chambers, sir. Dr. Darcy and Miss Darcy are in the parlor.”

“Thank you.” He practically threw his overcoat at Georges with the stasis of dread vanishing in the liberation of his fears and the cavernous need to embrace his wife. Dignity be damned, he dashed up the grand staircase and turned left with long strides.

“Fitzwilliam!”

He pivoted at the sound of his uncle's voice. “Uncle! Elizabeth is in our chambers, yes?”

“I checked on her not fifteen minutes ago and she is sleeping now, William. Come into the parlor so we can talk.”

Darcy stood in stunned alarm, trying to read his uncle's face. “Is she…?”

“She is fine, but she is asleep and she needs her sleep. Allow her to rest undisturbed, nephew, and have a drink with me.”

“I am her husband and she needs me!” Darcy flashed angrily, face stormy.

George stepped closer, face sympathetic but determined. “What Elizabeth needs is a husband who is serene, stable, and informed. You are currently none of those things.” He laid his hand comfortingly onto Darcy's forearm. “Come have a drink, William, just for the interim, and let your wife sleep.”

Darcy glanced toward the far staircase, sighed, running a hand over a grey face as he nodded wearily. “Very well. Just tell me one thing first. Is she… is the baby…?” His voice broke, but there was no need to say more.

George smiled, placing an arm about Darcy's shoulders and propelling him toward the doorway. “Elizabeth is hugely pregnant and shows no signs of presenting you an heir in the immediate future.”

Darcy sagged with relief, simultaneously sighing and coughing and laughing with an edge of hysteria. “Thank God!”

“Yes, indeed. Georgiana, look what the wind blew in.”

Georgiana, of course, was dancing with impatience just inside the doorway and leapt at her brother instantly. “Brother! We missed you so very much! Welcome home. Oh, Lizzy will be so happy!”

Darcy clutched his sister tightly to his chest, desperately needing the love and warmth offered freely. George moved to the liquor cabinet, taking his time so the siblings could have their moment.

“Georgie! You have no idea how good it is to be home. How are you, my sweet?”

“I am well. You, however, do not look well at all. It is as Lizzy surmised.” She broke the embrace, leading him by the hand to the sofa.

Darcy fell into the cushions with a heavy sigh, pulling Georgiana down beside him and under his arm. “What did my wife surmise?”

“That you would push too hard and not take care of yourself. Be prepared; she will scold you.”

Darcy smiled. “I imagine I can tolerate her scolding quite happily. Thank you, Uncle.” He took the offered whiskey, drinking deeply and ignoring his uncle's sharp gaze. “Are you examining me, Dr. Darcy, intending to inform me how terrible I look and rebuke me for not resting?”

“No point in stating the obvious. And I examined you out in the hallway. I was currently trying to decide which tonic would be best for your cough.”

“I am certain whatever it is will taste horrible. Tell me about my wife and child.” All jesting gone, he duplicated George's stare.

“Three afternoons ago now she began having contractions. They were not severe nor regular, which is, if you recall from the text and our discussions, the sign of true labor. Nonetheless, they persisted throughout the evening and were intense enough to warrant medical intervention. Upon examination I ascertained no indication of impending birth and her waters did not rupture. Georgie dear, if this is too graphic, perhaps you should depart temporarily.”

“Thank you, I believe I will.” She kissed her brother's cheek and exited, face flushed.

George chuckled, but Darcy leaned forward avidly. “Continue frankly.”

“She has been a wonderful companion and comfort to Elizabeth, William. I have been quite proud of her maturity. Anyway, you understand of what I speak. As I told your wife, I was not overly concerned as the symptoms were tenuous; nonetheless, it cannot be taken lightly. I have her on a daily prescription of herbals that have some effect on inhibiting contractions. Additionally, I forced her to stay in bed until today.”

He started laughing, eyes twinkling. “I checked on her this morning and the first words out of her mouth were, 'How long are you to keep me chained to this bed, Dr. Darcy? Until I atrophy and fuse into the sheets?' Well, that is always a sign of the patient improving. So I have allowed her to walk about the room, but no farther.”

Darcy smiled faintly, but his eyes were troubled. “Are you sure she should be out of bed? I am quite familiar with my wife's temper and need for activity, but I do not want my child compromised. Nor would Elizabeth either, no matter her frustration.”

“Here are the facts: If your baby is planning on arriving today or next month, there honestly is little we can do to stop it. The herbs and bed rest may aid temporarily, but are no guarantee. The detriments to lying in bed for the next four weeks, especially with a temperament such as Elizabeth's, would likely outweigh any benefits. Secondly, as I explained to her, the baby is near enough to complete maturity to conceivably be born healthy. He is a Darcy after all!”

His attempt to lighten the mood was disregarded, Darcy shaking his head. “Possibilities are not adequate. I will not gamble on my son's life. Whatever you deem the proper treatment, it will be done. If I have to tie Elizabeth to the bed I will!”

“Well, that would be a sight to behold. Yet I see no cause for such drastic measures. The truth is, William, your presence will be the best medicine. Promise me you will not chastise your wife because she does not need your severity but only your love and support. To a great degree her own nature is against her. She does not take leisure well, especially when driving herself to avoid sadness and to please you. Most importantly, she honestly is dependent on you for her serenity. You are a fortunate man, my boy.”

Darcy smiled the first real smile since arriving, caressing and staring at his ring. “Yes, I am. It has been an hour now. Can I please wake her?” He spoke very softly, as a little boy pleading for permission, glancing to his uncle with beseeching eyes.

“Yes, you may.” Darcy jumped up enthusiastically with a broad grin, but George stayed him with a hand. “One last thing, William. For reasons we physicians do not completely understand, sexual activity can induce labor. We should give it a few more days to be sure how she will respond to other physical exertions. I am sorry.”

Darcy nodded, the grin in place. “No worries. I can control myself for the sake of my wife's health. Right now all I want is to see her face.”

“Glad to hear it; however, it is not only you who must find control. Women can be persuasive and none, I judge, more so than Mrs. Darcy.” He was smirking widely, Darcy actually flushing. Without another word, and to the sound of his uncle's laughter, Darcy left the room.

He opened the bedchamber door gingerly, peeking through the crack. The bed was empty, but he did not require that evidence as Elizabeth was readily seen standing on the balcony. She wore his robe, the same one confiscated while separated from him in June; her back was to the door and her braided hair fell down her back. She stared south, watching vainly for sight of a carriage, hugging the robe tightly against the mild breeze. Darcy approached cautiously, not wishing to startle, utilizing the seconds to drink in every part of her.

To his continued amazement she still did not appear notably pregnant from the rear. Her daintily thin shoulders and narrow waist were nearly unaltered with only the faintest hint of widened hips and bulging belly visible from this angle. He knocked lightly on the open balcony door, speaking softly, “Elizabeth?”

She turned slowly, eyes widening in a delayed reaction when she realized it was not George Darcy. With a gasp and sob she cried his name, crossing the short distance as if flying weightless, and was into his arms. Pressing with steely hands on his back and face buried into the hard planes of his chest, she dissolved into tears.

Darcy embraced her with steady strength, hands caressing all about the trembling surfaces of her backside; his face embedded into her hair as he bestowed hundreds of kisses to her head. “Elizabeth, beautiful, dearest wife. Hush, love, I am home. I will not leave you. I love you, my heart. Please do not cry…”

On it went, Lizzy lost to salving tears. Darcy swept her into his arms, carrying to the sofa by the smoldering fire and sitting with her tightly clenched in his lap. Her face was nestled into his neck, fingers running through his hair as her weeping slowly subsided. He gave her the time she needed, hugging and stroking tenderly. Reaching gently to cup her jaw, he leaned back while pulling her head away, thumb caressing over her cheek, and met her eyes.

“Do not cry, beloved, please.” He brushed over her lips lightly as the familiar jolt of pleasure rocked through his being. Her lips parted, insistently deepening the kiss. Darcy thought he could die of happiness right then. Embracing his wife, tasting her mouth and tongue, the intimacy of her womanly curves snuggled into his body, her tiny hands kneading and seeking, and the muted sounds of contentment escaping all conspired to overwhelm his senses.

The kiss broke, but their eyes remained closed with faces touching, cheeks fondling cheeks, noses grazing, foreheads in contact, and nuzzling kisses over all features while murmured endearments fell. Lizzy shivered at the blissful sensation of roughly whiskered cheeks and chin scraping the delicate flesh of her face, inhaled deeply of his woodsy scent, trembled afresh at the vibrantly adoring tones of his voice, and leeched the radiant heat always emanating from the sturdy muscles of his body.

Softly and huskily whispering into his ear between infinitesimal kisses, she said, “Dearest love, forgive me for forcing you away from your business, but I was so afraid. I should feel more ashamed of my selfishness and pathetic reliance, but I do not. I needed you here, and now I know precisely why.” She withdrew a few inches to clearly view his beloved face, frowning instantly upon noting the lines of fatigue and marked pallor.

Darcy was attempting to wipe the drying tears with his handkerchief, his smile sunny. “I am at fault for ever leaving you, and if you are selfish or pathetic, then I am as well. We can be a matched pair of hopeless romantics.”

Lizzy was barely listening, swiping at the handkerchief impatiently as she trailed fingertips over his face. “William, you look terrible. Are you still unwell?”

“I have been hearing this frequently lately. Very well, I shall confess to being tired beyond belief, consumed with worry, still a bit weak from my ordeal, and with a lingering cough. All of this will surely evaporate now that I can sleep in your arms, not to mention being dosed with some horrid concoction of Dr. Darcy's. Perhaps in a day or two I will again be the 'handsomest man of your acquaintance.'”

Lizzy chuckled lightly, still stroking over his face. “You are forever the handsomest man not only of my acquaintance but in the entire world, just a bit worse for wear at this current time. Now you are here for me to nurse you back to health.”

“How odd. I was under the impression that I had come dashing home to care for you.” He smiled, caressing over her abdomen. “Seriously, Elizabeth, how are you feeling?”

“No pains for the past two days. Well, other than the usual vague ones. He is active and apparently unperturbed by stressing his parents so profoundly.” She swallowed, eyes moistening. “I was very frightened, William. Not so much by the pains themselves, but because you were not here. No one should see him before you. George says he would be fine if born now, but I do not want to take the chance.”

“I concur. We will be cautious and do all he recommends. However, he did make one point we should bear in mind: if our son wishes to come, we cannot prevent it. I do not want his introduction to his parents to be anxiety filled. It will be a joyous welcoming, Elizabeth, replete with enthusiasm, hope, and love.”

“This is why I need you here, my heart, to cheer me up and keep me focused.”

Cosseted for the next two hours, they talked and kissed and nuzzled. The baby responded to his father's persuasion by rolling about and kicking. Lizzy, as Dr. Darcy intimated, was not pleased at the restriction in sexual activity, but she did not argue the logic. The yearning boiled under the surface, but as much as they desired each other, the desire for a healthy child was greater.

Lizzy was allowed to join the family for dinner, walking slowly on Darcy's arm. She felt not the least bit delicate or uncomfortable, frankly more concerned by the deepening circles under her husband's eyes, but he insisted she lean on him. It was tempting, but she did not tease him as to what she would do if he collapsed! George presented Darcy with a bottle of thick greenish fluid, which he did not ask the contents of, preferring not to know what bizarre extracts he was forced to imbibe. Whatever it was, his throat was instantly numbed, and the nagging tickle that kept him from attaining a deep sleep disappeared. Additionally, either there was some hidden ingredient that sedated or he was simply wholly depleted because he slept blissfully embracing his wife for twelve hours straight.

The days following Darcy's return passed in calm serenity. None of the four occupants wandered beyond the immediate garden pathways, and hardly even there as the weather was decidedly unpleasant. Lizzy experienced no further contractions of any notable intensity, devotedly drinking the foul-tasting tea four times a day as prescribed. She smothered her natural inclinations and irritation, resting frequently and walking short distances only. In all ways she was the perfectly obedient patient.

Darcy's cough diminished to a rare event of minor duration and strength. He was correct in judging that restful sleep and tranquility would restore his energy and health. The muscle aches and weakness faded rapidly, and the color returned to his cheeks as the duskiness vanished. His pleasure and frank relief at discovering all Pemberley affairs managed competently and completely in his absence was overwhelming. Mr. Keith only had a list of four items that needed to be discussed with the Master. Mr. Daniels sent a small packet containing the unfinished business, none of which were vital, allowing Darcy the time to attend it at his leisure. Slowly life was settling into the typical winter stasis with nothing of vast import looming, even the birth of their child an event to anticipate with nothing but excitement.

Darcy seemed to handle his uncle's interdiction to forsake making love to his wife with equanimity. If Lizzy noted a churning blaze in his eyes from time to time when he thought she was not looking, she said nothing. In truth, Lizzy discovered her sexual desire muted as the baby's weight pressed upon her body and increased her fatigue. At times the romantic feelings would surge, especially in the mornings when she was most rested and her husband traditionally his most amorous.

They slept together, as it was quite simply unthinkable to be apart, but Lizzy wore a gown and Darcy a nightshirt or breeches. The barrier of clothing did not prevent Darcy's desire to any great degree, but it was a tangible reminder for a fuzzy brain to be restrained. Feeling her husband's desire was stimulating to Lizzy as well although her craving was not as pressing. Nevertheless, neither was overly concerned about denied lovemaking as the infant's health was of prime concern. Dr. Darcy did not withdraw the ban, and they knew that each passing day allowed the baby to mature, possibly the difference between life and death. That idea was sobering and effectively squelched passion, even Darcy's.

The Bingleys arrived for a short sojourn to honor Darcy's thirtieth birthday. His wish to completely ignore the day was also ignored, but Lizzy had submitted to his request for a modest celebration. The plan was for nothing more than a private dinner party with a handful of their friends. The gentlemen had tentatively discussed a hunt if the weather permitted.

November the tenth dawned cold with a drizzling rain. No sun was forthcoming to wake the Darcys at the dawn so they slept late. Lizzy stirred first. As usual it was the call of a full bladder that invaded her restful slumber, care taken as she hastily but gently removed herself from Darcy's unconscious grip. He sighed sleepily, garbled something, and rolled to his back.

Lizzy returned from the water closet fully intending on pressing chilled feet against her spouse's shins as she returned to the land of dreams, but she halted at the sight greeting her. It was not at all unusual for her potent husband to wake in some degree of arousal, his morning amorousness generally greeted with delight and openness by an adoring, and fortunate, wife. Today was typical with Darcy asleep on his back, the evidence of his virility not hidden by the covers.

Remembering his first gift to her on the morning of her birthday in May, she smiled lasciviously and crawled under the blankets. Nestling close, she starting with moist kisses along his neck while reaching pointedly under his nightshirt.

Darcy jerked, instantly wide awake with thighs clenching and body rippling. “Elizabeth, what…? Wait, we cannot…”

“We cannot, my lover, but I can. Now lie back, relax, and enjoy.”

Lizzy knew well the extreme gratification to be found in pleasing her husband. The long time without her did not afford him the greatest regulation, but enough to thoroughly enjoy all the wondrous thrills she bestowed upon his body. Lizzy's satisfaction in observing the man she loved so profoundly attaining satisfaction through her manipulation was excessive.

Seconds later, his body yet shuddering and skin ablaze, he pulled her into a sturdy embrace and captured her whole mouth in a penetrating kiss. The satiation achieved was immeasurable yet a mere fragment of the total desire he possessed for his wife. He pressed her harshly into his torso with hands caressing roughly in the need to show her his lingering hunger for her.

“Lizzy. Lord what you do to me!” He moved his hands to her face, panting roughly, and pressed his forehead against hers. For a very long while he held her in silence, his breathing and heartbeat gradually resuming regularity. When he spoke his voice was very deep and gravelly, “I was dreaming of you and I together under the trees. Thank you, my lover, for this morning. It was… you are… unbelievable. As satisfied as I am right now, my heart aches as I cannot return the gesture.”

She halted his words with a long, teasing kiss. “Fitzwilliam, you are truly too wonderful and a bit of a fool. I am abundantly content to give you this gift. You give me so much, endlessly extending yourself in hundreds of ways to please me. I am blessed and exhilarated to have this opportunity to focus only on you. Happy birthday, William.”

Darcy faced his birthday with a broad smile and spring in his step that was noticed by all, especially George Darcy, who in turn leapt to the wrong conclusion and kept a very close eye on Elizabeth. For her part, Lizzy was in a gay mood. She felt wonderful physically despite the consistent nags of advanced pregnancy, was emotionally joyous at the chance to honor her spouse on his special day, and spiritually thrilled by the peace she noted on his face. She was a bit smug about it, too!

The misty rain ceased by noon, the men folk jumping up instantly to take advantage of the break in weather for their hunt. Darcy, Bingley, and George were met by both Vernor men, Albert Hughes, and George Fitzherbert on the fringes of Pemberley's forest. The Sitwells would be arriving in the afternoon for the dinner party. Unfortunately the Drurys would not be able to attend as Chloe's pregnancy was far advanced and had not been an easy one. Georgiana spent the morning hours with her tutor, allotting Jane and Lizzy a block of time for sisterly companionship.

“Why did it have to rain?” Lizzy asked. She stood in her parlor staring out the window. “Now the walkways are slick and muddy.” She sighed loudly, turning to join her sister on the settee.

Jane smiled. “I have never known you to be inhibited by the weather. Is Mr. Darcy's overprotectiveness wearing off on you?”

“Not completely; however, I must confess that in this instance he is wise. I am ashamed to admit it, but I have discovered a slight unsteadiness at times. All this weight on my poor hip bones, I suppose.” She placed her hands on either side of her belly, smiling ruefully. “It is not worth the risk. Instead I wander up and down the halls where chairs are readily available.” She shrugged.

“Considering the length of Pemberley's halls, it is likely more exercise than if you walked to the rock pond and back.”

“Your tea, Mistress.” Mrs. Reynolds entered with the pot of Dr. Darcy's prescribed brew, Lizzy wincing. “Drink it all this time, Mrs. Darcy. I will be checking. Mrs. Bingley, this is for you.” She sat the pots down onto the table, bobbing a curtsy, and then departing after a pointed glance to her Mistress.

Jane began laughing the moment the door closed. “The fever of safeguarding appears to be contagious.”

“I am carrying the Darcy heir after all.”

“Pish! It is because she cares for you, Lizzy, any fool can see that. By the way, you speak of your weight, but do you remember Angela Harley? Poor dear was enormous. I seriously began to have doubts at the whole concept of matrimony and maternity watching her.” Lizzy was laughing at the recollection. “You, dear sister, are yet svelte in comparison. I do hope I am as fortunate when the time arrives.”

Jane's voice softened and she glanced away, Lizzy watching her with sudden speculation. “Jane, is there something you wish to reveal to me?”

Jane blushed brightly, staring into her lap. “I should say nothing yet, Lizzy, as we are not certain.” She glanced up at Lizzy with a shy smile, continuing, “Oh Lizzy, I have been bursting to tell you! Charles and I may be expecting!”

Lizzy clasped her hands with joy. “Jane! How marvelous! I cannot believe that Mr. Bingley has managed to maintain his calm!”

“We only days ago began to suspect and cannot be certain. Please, Lizzy, say nothing, except to Mr. Darcy of course, but no other. I know you are not the superstitious type, but I do so want to present Charles a child and fear if we speak of it too forcefully it will prove false.”

“Oh Jane, you are so silly! Nonetheless, I understand the necessity in waiting to be sure. I knew it would be lovely having you close. Now our children can grow together as playmates. Oh happy day!”

“Speaking of babies, have you heard from Charlotte?”

“Not for a month or so. In fact I was beginning to worry as I know she was due early this month. Her last letter assured me all was progressing normally. Mama's recent letter mentions nothing, so there must be no news to report or surely Mama would know!”

“Quite uncharitable of you, Lizzy, but I agree that it is true. Your tea is getting cold and you have yet to finish it. Tsk, tsk! Mrs. Reynolds may turn you over her knee. Here, have a scone. That may help the flavor.”

“No, place it amid the curls just above her left ear. Excellent! Absolutely stunning. Once again, Marguerite, you have created a flawless masterpiece.”

“Thank you, sir. With hair such as Mrs. Darcy possesses it is an easy task. I was assuming the amber necklace, madam? Does this meet with your approval?”

Lizzy shrugged. “Perhaps you should ask my personal fashion advisor.”

Both Lizzy and Marguerite looked questioningly to Darcy's reflection in the vanity mirror. “By all means the amber necklace and earrings.”

Marguerite disappeared into the closet, Lizzy gazing at her husband via the mirror. He stood in the doorway of her dressing room, dressed in a spectacular ensemble of dark gray pantaloons and jacket with waistcoat in silvery threaded purple, observing the final preparations of his wife with a happy smile on his lips. Lizzy wore the auburn gown from their renewal ceremony, her hair truly magnificent with a single clip of diamonds now nestled above her left ear.

Marguerite returned with the jewels, Darcy stepping forward to wordlessly take them from her. “I will finish here, Mrs. Oliver. Enjoy your evening with your husband.”

Marguerite curtsied, with a faint rosiness highlighting her pale cheeks, and departed. Moving behind Lizzy, Darcy encircled her slender neck and clasped the necklace in place, fingertips brushing over her skin. He bent to bestow a tiny kiss to the nape of her neck, handing her the earrings and speaking roughly, “Earrings are beyond my expertise. Elizabeth, you are breathtaking. One of the best birthday presents in all my life, sans your bookmark, is the vision of you as you are now.”

His hands rested lightly on her shoulders, Lizzy clipping the earrings on. “Thank you, my love. However, maybe this year's present will please you.” She stood and took his hand, leading into the bedchamber. The wrapped gift sat on the sofa, Lizzy encouraging Darcy to sit and handing it to him. “Happy birthday, William.”

“I will remind you that I requested no gifts.”

“Surely you did not think I would obey such a ridiculous order? Be thankful I did not invite all of Derbyshire to pay homage. After all, it is a remarkably special day, your healthy birth the beginning of the pathway leading you to me. Now open.”

He slowly untied the bow, pulling the wrapping away from the large, flat box. Lizzy was biting nervously on the corner of her lip, Darcy glancing at her with a soft smile. Inside under layers of tissue paper was a framed portrait. Darcy's breath caught and mouth fell open as with trembling fingers he removed the picture.

It was Lizzy dressed in one of his favorite gowns: a satin dress of navy blue with silver trim that beautifully accented her fuller bosom, capped sleeves off the shoulders exposing the creamy lusciousness of her flesh and swanlike neck. She wore his mother's pearl necklace and dainty drop earrings, thick chestnut tresses elaborately coiffed with tiny pearls woven into a strand of curls cascading over her right shoulder and wisps of hair brushing delicately along her temples. The artist had masterfully captured the vibrant sparkle of her eyes, faint twist of bubbling humor on her lush lips, and barely suppressed verve evident in the tilt of her head. The portrait was miniaturized, approximately twelve inches high and eight inches wide, but the realism was so astounding that the image verily leapt off the canvas.

“Elizabeth! It is unbelievable. When did you…? Who…?”

“I confess I deceived you, my love. Many of the afternoons you thought me shopping or visiting Harriet I was sitting for this. I think it good. Do you like it?”

“Good? It is stunning. You are stunning. I am at a loss for words! Thank you, Elizabeth!”

“I thought you could place it on your desk amid the clutter.”

“It may distract me too greatly as the accuracy is remarkable. I will anticipate hearing your voice emerge from the frame. Besides, workmanship such as this deserves a place of honor.”

“It is yours to do with as you wish. However, I did want it where you could view it frequently. Think of it as me watching over you.” She reached to tenderly stroke his cheek, Darcy grasping her hand for a kiss to the palm while yet staring raptly at the painting.

“You know I require no tangible remembrances of you, but I will treasure this always. Yes, you are correct. I will place it on my desk, even clearing some of the mess to denote an esteemed locale. On the left corner, I think.”

“You could remove that hideous statue of the bull.”

“I like that statue! Oh, you are teasing me.” He laughed, bending to kiss her pert lips tenderly and caressing her jaw. “Thank you, my dearest love. It is perfect. You never cease to amaze me. I love you, Elizabeth. May I share the painting with our guests?”

“As you wish.”

Lizzy may have ignored his pleading for no gifts, but she did grant his wish for an intimate gathering. Aside from George and Georgiana, no other guests gave gifts. The focus was on fine dining and sedate entertainment. The Sitwells had traveled from their home near Chesterfield, residing at the Hughes's. In lieu of attending, the Drurys had sent best wishes for a joyous birthday.

All were in awe at Lizzy's miniature portrait, praising the artistry and sentiment. Darcy momentarily slipped away from his guests to reverently place it in his study, clearing a corner of the enormous desk with a smile as he imagined all the subsequent days spent at his labors with her beautiful face gazing upon him. He touched the gilded frame, chuckling happily as he freshly acknowledged the vast difference between this birthday and the last versus every other in his entire life. His mother and father, when he was young, had showered him with gifts, prepared his favorite dinner and dessert, and a handful of times in his youth held small parties with his closest friends. Then there were the grief-filled years after his mother died when celebrations of all sorts had practically ceased. His birthdays then were family affairs only with little in the way of gaiety. As he had told Lizzy last year, his adult birthdays had passed virtually with no recognition except for modest gifts from Mrs. Reynolds, Georgiana, and occasionally Richard.

Only once, when he turned two-and-twenty, was there a memory attached: Richard and Stephen Lathrop had conspired and surprised him at White's. The gents there had toasted to his birthday, his health, his prosperity, his future, on and on until the toasts declined to the realm of drinking a shot for his horse, his hair, his teeth, his boots, and so on. All he really remembered after that was waking up the next morning, shockingly actually in his bed at Darcy House, with the headache to beat all headaches. For the successive years he was blessedly content to forego any revelry.

This birthday was sedate, Lizzy certainly not physically able to tolerate an exaggerated affair and Darcy content to sip brandy while conversing and listening to his sister play and wife sing. All things taken into account, turning thirty was a blissful transition, Darcy glad to put the pain of his twenties behind and embrace the promised joy of his thirties and beyond.