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

Chapter Eighteen Alexander

Silence fell. The crackling of the fire, ticking of the longcase clock, muffled murmurs of voices from without mingling with the familiar creaks from within the mansion's walls, faint whispers of a November wind beyond the curtained windows, and the harmonious heartbeats and contented respirations of the three Darcys the only noises.

Lizzy's gown was opened, Alexander nestled with his belly and chest pressed flat along her torso, his head pillowed upon one soft breast.

He was wide awake and for a very long time Darcy and Lizzy stared, plainly stared, at the beautiful face of their newborn son as he stared back. He moved occasionally, emitting soft mews, pursing full pink lips, delicate eyelids fluttering, miniature fingers grasping and releasing a parent's finger. His mouth would open, apparently seeking as his surprisingly strong neck turned a wobbly head toward her breast. But then he would pause, quieting as he resumed his inquisitive inspection of his parents.

Lizzy sniffled, wiping at a falling tear and sighing deeply. “Are you in pain, dearest?” Darcy asked, reaching to stroke her chin as she shook her head.

“No. Well, yes, a bit achy and very tired, but the tears are of joy. Look at him, William! Is he not the most beautiful baby you have ever seen?”

Darcy chuckled, chest vibrating. “As you know I have limited exposure, this is an unfair question. Nonetheless, I cannot fathom any other being handsomer. He has your hair, Elizabeth, and your eyes.”

“His eyes are blue.”

“Yes, but shaped like yours. And he inherited your nose, thankfully.”

“It does not look like my nose, and besides, I adore your nose!” She turned her head for a peck to said proboscis positioned by her cheek. “It is easy to find for kisses in the dark.”

“Indeed, it is. He is beginning to seek more diligently. Perhaps hunger is winning over the need for sedate cuddling.” Darcy ran a fingertip over the tiny lips, Alexander instantly opening wide and searching.

“If he inherited his father's appetite, then this is likely true. Perhaps I should nurse him.”

“It appears he has decided the same. Look how he squirms to reach your nipple, just as Uncle said he would. Marvelous nature!” Darcy declared in awe, both parents watching in amazement as with minimal aid from them, Alexander wiggled and bobbed his way toward his mother's bared breast. They laughed as they fumbled to help him, but it was not overly necessary. The newborn fortunately knew precisely what to do, only requiring the nipple to come within proximity of his gaping mouth.

Lizzy gasped and jerked at the strong suck, fresh tears springing to her eyes as emotions consumed her.

“Are you well, Elizabeth? Does it hurt?”

She shook her head vigorously, relaxing further into his warm body. “No, no. It is… blissful! I just… love him so much! And you… William, I am so deliriously happy!” He held her firmly, rocking gently as she cried, Alexander oblivious to it all as he nursed and held tightly to his mother's finger.

Gradually she quieted, lifting her eyes to meet Darcy's adoring gaze. He bent, kissing her lightly. “I love you forever, Elizabeth.”

“And I you, Fitzwilliam. By the way, I know it yet a couple hours early but… Happy anniversary my darling. Do you like your gift?”

“I daresay I love both the gift and the packaging it came in. Happy anniversary, Mrs. Darcy.”

Many hours later, well after midnight and nearing the dawn of November 28, 1817, another date of import, Lizzy woke. The unfamiliar room was dim, Lizzy momentarily befuddled by the strange and empty bed as well as the cramping leg muscles, burning arms, and throbbing bottom. The happenings of the twenty-seventh rushed through her consciousness, Lizzy smiling brightly at the surge of exultation, and then suddenly panicking as the vacancy in her arms stabbed her heart.

Her eyes flew open and she painfully attempted to rise, halting and relaxing with a gratified sigh at the vision greeting her.

Darcy lay asleep on the narrow, short sofa before the smoldering fire. His vest had been discarded and the linen shirt loose and gaping open over his bare chest with a blanket haphazardly covering his lower body. His feet were also bare and one long leg had fallen off the sofa onto the floor while the other was draped over the arm and dangling from the knee on. His beautiful face was turned toward the bed, lips parted, and he breathed in a deep rhythm. Lying on his ample chest was Alexander. The baby was swaddled and dressed, one arm free and hanging over his father's side. His tiny pink face was visible, full lips parted just like his father's. Darcy held his son securely, even in sleep, one large hand resting on the infant's rear and the other hand wholly encompassing the curly brown-haired head.

Lizzy lay awake for a long while watching father and son in peaceful slumber. It was a picture more moving than anything created by the greatest artist. The new mother studied the scene in the finest detail, reverently hanging it in her mind's gallery to be remembered for all of her life.

Alexander William George Bennet Darcy, Heir to Pemberley, Master Alex as he would be commonly known to the staff as he grew, was hungry and it was quite feasible that the entire household knew it! The future Master of Pemberley's character was yet unknown, his personality to undergo years of molding and development, but one trait that was instantly recognizable was his demanding persistence.

“Merciful heavens, my sweet, you ate barely two hours ago! I apologize most profoundly for being a bit fumbling at the procedure and for yet providing little in the way of actual milk. Bear with me.”

“I cannot fathom where he comes by such a temper. Astounding, actually.”

“Most humorous, Mr. Darcy. Make yourself useful and prop that pillow under my elbow. Your son is heavy on my tired arms. There you are, darling, that's my bright boy. Ouch! Goodness, I certainly know where he gets that talent from!”

“Be thankful as the ability to suck well induces the milk to produce rapidly, or at least that is what the book states.”

It was mid-morning following his birth, the young master just over twelve hours of age. Despite Lizzy's playful teasing he actually had slept for nearly five hours nestled snuggly belly to chest with head tucked under his immeasurably proud father's chin and warm hand, lulled by the strong beat of a blissful heart beneath his ear. Darcy had awoken first, cramped and with no sensation to his left limb from the knee down, and a spreading wet warmth over his abdomen.

Both Darcy men had changed their clothing; elder Darcy with relief and baby Darcy with extreme indignation. Only the loving presence of his mother, and most especially her breast, had calmed him. He had eaten well, promptly falling asleep in Lizzy's arms, and woken two hours later apparently famished. In the meantime Darcy had called for coffee and tea, George had peeked in to assure all was well with the new mother, and the lovers had lost themselves in gazing at their son's face.

They were still lost. Darcy reclined with his wife on the bed, fingertips gently brushing over the wisps of brown curls while the infant nursed. Lizzy wore a smile unique to all mothers everywhere since time began, dreamily memorizing each twitch and curve, while allowing the sensations to course through her blood. Some were mildly unpleasant, such as the cramps elicited by his sucking, but most were joyous, such as the wash of intense love and happiness.

She rested her head onto Darcy's inner shoulder, sighing contentedly but wearily. “I think I could sleep for a week. After I eat the entire kitchen, that is.”

Darcy kissed her brow, hugging close as fingers played through her hair while yet caressing the baby's fine locks. “As soon as Alexander is satisfied I will call for another tray and help you to freshen up. Marguerite is drawing a bath.”

Marguerite assisted a stiff and hobbling Lizzy into her bathing room while Darcy stayed with the baby. He lay with him on the bed while Lizzy bathed, Alexander enjoying a brief span of contented wakefulness after filling his stomach. Father and son studied each other, Darcy again examining each feature and marveling at how tender yet sturdy the helpless infant was. He recalled a vague memory of his mother telling him not to fear holding Georgiana as, “She will not break, Fitzwilliam. Babies are tougher than most give them credit.”

He could better perceive this in Alexander than he could as a young boy with Georgie. His legs kicked forcefully against Darcy's palms, the very bones firm inside robust muscles. He gripped Darcy's fingers or hair when it came within reach with tight fists that actually caused pain. His movements were random and uncontrolled, but strong, even lifting his head for short spells and arching his spine to the point of nearly flipping over! Of course, his stamina was transient, the hours-old infant sleeping more than anything. However, that was a delight as well. Darcy's tender crooning, arising from some internally paternal instinct he did not know he possessed, pacified Alexander, eyes drooping and limbs relaxing as his father whispered nonsense and devotion in a melodic voice.

Mrs. Hanford assumed her attendance over the sleeping infant while Darcy retreated for a thorough cleansing and a shave. He returned to discover his wife walking about the room, gently bouncing a soundly sleeping Alexander in her arms. Darcy scowled and grasped her elbows as if she were an invalid, ordering her back to bed.

Lizzy laughed, tiptoeing to kiss the creases between his brows. “If I lie in that bed a moment more, I shall scream. Sore muscles need to be exercised, as you well know.” She rubbed the slowly fading wrinkles with a happy grin, Darcy gradually matching her expression, as she continued musingly, “Alexander has your eyebrows, nearly your whole face in point of fact. Shall be an advantage for me now that I finally know how to read the moods and thoughts so dramatically detailed in your eyes and perfect brow.” She encircled his neck with one smarting arm, intent on indulging in a time of pleasurable kisses. Darcy blissfully submitted, hands flattening on her back as he tentatively pulled her close to his body, thrilling at the ability to do so. The soft bundle between their chests that was their swaddled son did not inhibit drawing her tighter than he had been able to do for the past several months.

Of course, nothing further could be accomplished so soon after giving birth even if Alexander had not decided to interrupt for another feeding. George visited several times throughout the day, but did not examine Lizzy. Rather he asked a number of pointed questions that caused her to absurdly flush considering the events of yesterday, to his great amusement. Since nothing appeared to be remiss, Lizzy actually feeling quite well aside from being extremely tired and sore, he left it at softly spoken reminders of what to watch for. And a new, foul-tasting tea concoction to ease the pain and augment her recovery.

Mrs. Hanford was stationed in the adjoining nursery. She was beckoned upon occasion, offering light assistance and words of advice, but mostly left the trio alone. The various family members paid short visits throughout the day, but they kept it brief as well. Partly this was due to the understanding that this time was special and should be spent alone. However, it was also because everyone knew that November twenty-eighth was not just the day after Alexander's birth, but it was also the Darcys' first wedding anniversary.

The Darcys' one-year anniversary was spent focusing on their baby rather than wholly on each other as they had tentatively planned, but neither minded in the least. Darcy had not arranged any wild celebration, knowing that Lizzy's condition, assuming she was still pregnant, would preclude anything extreme. Instead he had ordered the staff to prepare a lavish dinner setting in the conservatory. That was now out of the question. Even if Lizzy had felt physically capable of dressing and walking the long distance to the orangery, the thought of leaving Alexander or taking him on any excursions abroad was inconceivable. So, with a rapid shift in thinking, vases of flowers were displayed about their temporary bedchamber and a table was set for dining. Instead it was the Bingleys, also celebrating one year of wedded bliss, who would benefit from Darcy's devising!

The Darcys' commemoration of a joyous year's end was a quiet affair, the perfect cap to a busy day. Lizzy napped intermittently between nursing a demanding infant with a healthy appetite and visits with the family, but was still fatigued from her ordeal. They ate heartily of the stupendous cuisine created by Mrs. Langton for the anniversary, exchanged gifts that would be treasured, and blissfully returned to the comfort of the bed for cuddling and further staring at Alexander. Many anniversaries would be celebrated down the long years graced to them by the Almighty, some quite extraordinary for various reasons, but how could any trip to a foreign land or massive gala transcend the joy of their firstborn?

“My life has altered so dramatically this past year,” Darcy mused. “It is fantastic and I could almost be convinced I am dreaming it all if not for the tangible touch of you and our perfect son.” He leaned to bestow a kiss to Alexander's chubby fist tightly clenched around his index finger. The baby lay asleep on the bed between his mother and father, their bodies nestled as close as possible without smothering the contented infant. Lizzy's nose brushed the fine tresses as she inhaled his innocent fragrance and planted an endless amount of soft kisses. Darcy played with her lengthy hair spilling over the pillows, knuckles frequently caressing over her face.

Lizzy smiled through her weariness. Her body ached in unmentionable places and she was utterly exhausted; nevertheless, her happiness rushed through every fiber of her spirit as a surging wave. She spoke in a bare whisper, voice hoarse from the strain of birth and fatigue, “I do know what you mean. If anyone had told me fourteen months ago that I would be joyously married to the most amazing man in the world and with a child at my breast… well, I am certain I would have laughed! Now look at us, William. Together a year and blessed with a priceless gift. What was it you said once? 'A part of you and me, created by God through our union.'” She shook her head, “I still cannot believe you are mine, and now we have a baby! It is fantastic.”

Alexander released a soft drowsy sigh, arching his head toward Darcy with petite lips sucking on an imaginary nipple. Thick lashes lay on rosy silky cheeks, his skin fair as was both his parents. The contrast of milky skin and chestnut hair was striking and so beautiful. Naturally his parents thought him lovely beyond any child alive, but the truth is Alexander was adorable. It was indisputable that he favored his father, but there was much of his mother about his features: the curly hair, diminutive nose, rounder eyes, and bent pinkie toes. His feet overall were long and broad like his father's, but the toe was a Bennet trait. Darcy was thrilled about the little digit, already delighting in ticklish nibbles; Lizzy was less than enthused, having always been embarrassed by what she considered a flaw, but her husband adored her feet—as well as everything else.

Darcy smiled at the joy elicited by the mere presence of their infant, leaned to kiss his forehead and inhaling deeply of his clean scent. “I smell the soap, but there is something indefinable about him. It is his very skin, his essence. He is so unbelievably sweet! I never imagined it possible to love someone so newly acquainted and largely unknown to this degree. He is a miracle, Elizabeth, and I cannot thank you enough.” He met her glittering eyes, leaning to now kiss her equally as tender. “I love you, my wife, beyond measure.”

“And I you, beloved. My heart is filled to overflowing. My soul is dancing a lively jig even if my body is too weary to respond!”

She yawned widely, Darcy chuckling faintly. “Close your eyes and sleep, dearest. Uncle says it vital you rest while Alexander does.”

“Fitzwilliam, will you stay here with us? Please?”

“Of course!” He was genuinely surprised at the question and the tone of pleading it was asked in. “My place is with you, no matter the bedchamber. I would not leave even if you begged me to do so. When you feel ready, we will return to our favored bed, but until then you are stuck with me in this smaller one.”

Lizzy smiled drowsily, eyes falling shut and voice a bare murmur, “Thank you. Should we move him to the cradle? I do not wish to, but I fear squishing him.”

“He will come to no harm. I do not want him so far either. Sleep, Elizabeth,” he whispered, drawing the blanket further over his wife and dreaming babe, stroking over her warm skin as she promptly succumbed to her fatigue. They slept all three together, Darcy awake long after his wife and child, watching over them as they rested with emotions unnameable alive inside of him.

The first days of parenthood were tremendous. Lizzy recuperated rapidly. Too rapidly as far as Darcy was concerned, his fears at her overextending falling on deaf ears. What she could not quite communicate to him was how marvelous she felt. Yes, her feminine regions were sore and swollen, her muscles were stiff and achy for a couple days, and it took her about a week to regain her natural vigor and no longer be stricken by fatigue, but these were minor irritations compared to the joy suffusing her soul. Additionally, the simple delight at suddenly weighing about twelve pounds lighter was stupendous!

Lizzy kept to her chambers during those early days of rejuvenation, Darcy leaving rarely. Upon occasion Alexander did sleep tucked into a ball on the mattress with a parent nearby, but the bulk of his early life was spent in someone's arms. Neither mother nor father wished him out of sight, even the dozen steps to the nursery. Mrs. Hanford was constantly in residence, educating Lizzy and Darcy on the basic principles of diapering and dressing and bathing. Her knowledge was of a practical, experiential nature. Often it was the simple things that books did not teach that she readily knew and imparted with confidence that eased the Darcys.

For example, Alexander's first several bowel eliminations were decidedly odd and frightening, the new parents greatly relieved when the nanny assured them it was normal. For her part, the negligible time spent thus far at Pemberley had not fully prepared her for the intense interest both Darcys shared for all things regarding their son. Nothing escaped their notice, especially Mr. Darcy, whose eagle-eyed penetrating gaze frankly unnerved her initially, but speedily grew ordinary and was balanced by the tender devotion evident. All the rumors circulating since the Master's marriage were witnessed firsthand by the nanny, and her happiness with her new path in life was immense.

Alexander was alert more often than either of them had expected, his bright blue eyes penetrating and serious. It was a gaze, even in its infantile state, that was eerily like his father's.

Yet most of his awake-time was devoted to the all important chore of eating. There were a handful of slumbering stretches that lasted longer than three hours, but very few. The short nap followed by a voracious interlude at his mother's breast was a typical pattern during those initial days. By the end of the third day Lizzy's milk would be fully producing, allowing for longer reprieves between nursing, but for those first days he was never well satisfied. Naturally she minded not at all, generally holding him as he slept rather than placing him into his cradle. In fact, he would not sleep in his cradle for several days.

When Darcy was not present, which was rarely, and even a good portion of the time when he was, Jane or Georgiana, and often both, would be found placidly sitting nearby with a cup of tea or embroidery hoop in hand. These were episodes of pleasant conversation, one eye on the flashing needle and the other on Lizzy and new nephew. Both women possessed calm natures that pacified while also ready to jump up the instant she needed anything. Their constant vigil and serene presence soothed all of them and granted Darcy the relieving freedom to move beyond the chamber as required. Naturally the conversation often centered on Alexander and the soon-to-arrive Bingley baby, but general topics ranged wide as the women passed the hours companionably.

“I wrote to Mama and Papa a few days before I came here,” Jane said at one point. “I told them about our blessed news. Caroline and the Hursts are arriving next week, so we will announce our blessing to them then.”

“Are they staying for long?”

“Probably through the holidays. Do not make that face, Lizzy!”

“Forgive me, Jane, but I must confess I am happy it is you and not me! Although I suppose we shall host them a time or two. Caroline Bingley irritates me and the Hursts are boring. Sorry, but you know it to be true. Perhaps I can plead lingering post childbirth fatigue. Certainly I do not want a host of people handling our fragile infant, and William will absolutely forbid it. We have not discussed it, but what are your plans for Christmas?”

“Typical celebrations at Hasberry. I greatly anticipate a lively holiday in my new home. Yes, even with the Hursts and Caroline!” She laughed at Lizzy's harrumph. “But do not fret overly, dear sister. I assure you we will not willingly face the wrath of Mr. Darcy by invading your peace too radically.”

“Don't be silly,” Lizzy teased. “We want you and Charles here for Christmas dinner at the least. And for the christening in January. I can happily endure Caroline and the Hursts for a few days.”

“We shall see,” Georgiana muttered under her breath with a wink toward Jane that Lizzy ignored.

She continued, “Papa wrote and said they plan to arrive a week before Christmas. I think he wanted to be very sure not to be here during the birth, five previous times more than sufficient! I can only be grateful at that insight as I vastly preferred my husband by my side then Mama shrieking through Pemberley's halls.” They all laughed, Lizzy shaking her head at the momentary vision of her mother attempting to “help” during her labor.

“Will Mary be accompanying Mr. and Mrs. Bennet and Kitty? I know she is currently at home pending her wedding in February,” Georgiana asked.

“I am unsure. William and I extended an invitation to her and Mr. Daniels, although I believe the poor man will sooner tread over hot coals than reside as a guest here. We do hope Mary can persuade him.”

“As do I. I miss Mary, and it would be fabulous to have Mary attend the Cole's Masque with Kitty and me.”

Jane laughed. “I would not set my hopes on that, Georgiana. Mary despises dancing and would need to be chained and dragged there involuntarily.”

The idle chat and laughter continued until interrupted by the menfolk.

Darcy did not go farther in those early days than the hallway, his dressing room, or sitting room where he would attend to his personal needs or relax with Bingley over a cup of hot chocolate. Two days after the birth, Darcy and Bingley engaged in a handful of backgammon games in the well-appointed game room. They conversed companionably and snacked on Mrs. Langton's excellent gooseberry jam-smothered biscuits and drank hot black tea. It was an enjoyable session, but eventually Darcy grew anxious, missing his family.

“Come, Bingley,” he said to his friend. “Let us see what our beautiful wives are gossiping about today. Besides, you have not gazed upon my handsome son since early this morning. He needs to recognize the face of his Uncle Charles.”

Darcy was already at the door, Bingley trailing with a chuckle and privately wondering if he would be as giddy upon the arrival of his firstborn. Most likely, he thought with a smile.

Jane sat on a settee before the roaring fire with needlepoint in hand, talking softly as Lizzy completed burping Alexander from the pillowed comfort of a second settee while Georgiana reclined on the chaise with a forgotten book on her lap. The men joined the ladies, Darcy crossing instantly to his wife for a tender kiss and taking Alexander from her sore arms as he sat beside. General conversation ensued, Lizzy leaning gratefully against the solid strength of her husband's side. It was Darcy, sleeping baby cradled in his arms, who broached an important subject in his typical forthright manner of speaking.

“Charles, Jane.” They glanced over simultaneously, brows lifting slightly at the serious tone. “Elizabeth and I have a question of extreme magnitude to ask of you. It is essential you understand that we have given this a tremendous amount of consideration and are absolutely convinced of the wisdom in our choice. Although we would make every attempt to comprehend a negative response, it would be deeply distressing as we are confident in our judgment. We in no way want you to be obligated, however, if you feel just cause to decline.”

“Speak freely, Darcy, without the extended preamble!” Bingley interrupted with a laugh, turning to his wife with a sidelong glance at his friend. “Mr. Darcy could run for Parliament considering how long winded he can be at times.”

Lizzy chuckled from where she leaned on Darcy's shoulder, patting his arm. Darcy pressed his lips together, not angry but not as amused as the others in the room, continuing as if Bingley had not spoken, “Personality traits notwithstanding, Elizabeth and I wish to humbly request that the two of you consider accepting the position of godparents to our son.”

Jane smiled softly, eyes tearing as she gazed at her sister. She had wondered if they might choose her and Charles, although Lizzy had extended no hint of such, nor had Jane mentioned the speculation to anyone, not even her husband. It was more a conjecture based on hope. Still, as greatly as she had secretly wished to be given the esteemed role in her first nephew's life, she was deeply moved.

Charles was stunned and it showed in the comic wide-eyed slackness of his face. As close as he was to Darcy, and perhaps partially because of his intimacy with the morally reserved man, he naturally assumed the choice would be a near relative or even one of his lifelong Derbyshire friends. Bingley well knew Darcy's strong religious convictions. Conversely, he had not been raised as rigidly, his lackadaisical father more apt to sleep late on Sunday morning suffering from a massive post-drunkenness headache than escort his children to church. Faith-based tenets were taught tenuously at best throughout his youth, and only in later years in his desire to break away from the waywardness of his early existence did Bingley begin to attend services with any sort of regularity. What he had discovered was a fount of peace and stability that he embraced, but not to the great degree of Darcy.

Darcy was smiling affectionately at his young friend, insightfully clarifying in his quiet voice, “You see, my dear friend, being a godparent is not exclusively about teaching Alexander the specific doctrines and theological creeds. That is what the Church and pastors are for. It is more about being an example of those Biblical principles, living them out within sight of his immature mind, teaching as a model of what is virtuous and acceptable. You and Jane exemplify everything that Elizabeth and I want our son to be in life.”

“Of all the couples we know,” Lizzy added, “not only do you breathe integrity and love and faithfulness, but you truly love him. We know you always will. It is vital to us that Alexander grows knowing that his godparents are not merely accepting a tradition or honored obligation but are performing a duty out of devotion.”

Bingley glanced at his wife, throat tight as he swallowed the forming lump, their eyes meeting with instant communication. No hesitation or need to discuss the matter. “We would be honored, William, deeply honored,” he finally squeaked out. “Lizzy, thank you. Yes, absolutely we will stand with you before God and commit ourselves to Alexander.”

Charles and Jane departed two days later, but only because Darcy declared with obvious remorse that the innocuous-appearing clouds gathering over the distant Peaks portended a snowstorm. Jane peered at her brother-in-law with clear doubt at his assertion, but Bingley immediately began making plans to leave. Long association with his friend's uncanny ability to predict the Derbyshire weather, a talent he assumed was genetic, gave him no cause to pause.

The sisters said their adieus in the bedchamber while Darcy descended the stairs to spend the final hours with Charles in the billiard room. Jane held a sleeping Alexander, while Lizzy stretched a bit by pacing about the room.

“Jane, I cannot thank you enough for being here with me. I do hope I can return the favor when your time comes.”

“Absolutely! I will need you there most assuredly. However, it is I who should be thanking you, Lizzy. Now I know most clearly what to expect and can attend to my thoughts for the following months and bolster my mental strength.”

Lizzy laughed. “Knowing you, I doubt you will raise your voice even once, as I did, nor release a peep. Even worse, you shall probably have a four-hour travail and I shall never speak to you again!”

“If I am so fortunate, I think I could deal with never having you speak to me again,” Jane teased in her quiet voice, Lizzy laughing so loudly that Alexander started in his aunt's arms. She soothed him, resuming, “When do you plan to leave these rooms for the rest of the house? Your pacing is a plain indication of your restlessness.”

“Tomorrow. I intend to show Alexander the immediate rooms at the least, even if I have to barrel through William's body to do so! I cannot say I am ready to tackle too much, but these rooms are stifling me.” She sighed, sitting onto the edge of the sofa next to Jane, fingers automatically traveling over Alexander's satiny cheek. “I redecorated these rooms and they are lovely, but I already miss our bedchamber. It just… does not feel right somehow.” She smiled and shook her head, glancing to Jane with a faint blush. “I know I am being silly.”

“No you are not. Be patient, Lizzy. I do not think you can fully trust your emotions so soon after birth. You will know in your heart when it feels proper to move. William is here with you so it truly cannot matter all that much.”

“Thank you, Jane. Of course you are correct, and William says the same. I will miss you so very much! You and Charles must hurry back for a longer visit around Christmas, even if that means bringing the Hursts and Miss Bingley!”

The storm did strike late that evening, dropping four inches of powdery snow; nonetheless, it did not overly hinder the message that an heir to the Pemberley estate and fortune had been born. The news speedily disseminated throughout Derbyshire, the horrid weather not preventing gossip. The official announcements were not yet printed before congratulations were arriving to the manor, servants sent trudging through the snow and chill winds to deliver penned parchments by the dozens. It would be over a week before Darcy visited with the local gentlemen at the pub in Lambton, then discovering that it was Albert Hughes's father, Wentworth Hughes, who won the wager on nearly all counts. One hundred twenty-three pounds for guessing birth date, closest time, and sex! The gents toasted the new father, plying him with cigars and humorous words of parenting advice.

Back at Pemberley, as the weeks moved toward Christmas, life fell into the typical routines for this time of the year. Nevertheless, covering it all, threading through it all, and as a foundation of it all was Alexander. He was the star, the sweet center of attention, the innocent being that had every last soul wrapped around his tiny fingers. Lizzy did begin walking with him the day after the Bingleys left, Darcy at her elbow as they slowly traversed the endless corridors of the top floor. They took turns carrying him, pointing to various portraits or wall hangings, some of which were actually colorful enough to capture his brief consideration. Mostly he slept nestled onto a shoulder, the exercise being essentially for Lizzy's benefit.

Even the sporadically encountered footman or maid could not resist a spontaneous smile and warm gaze to touch the young Master's face. Lizzy was delighted to proudly show him to anyone, Darcy also overcoming a natural devotion to protocol by introducing him with a broad grin.

Georgiana and George joined the excursions from time to time. The dear doctor adored his grand-nephew, easily ensnaring the infant's serious gaze what with the garish outfits he wore, a voice exactly like his nephew's, and a natural storyteller's dramatic flair for enunciation. George found a captive audience to his wild tales, Alexander mesmerized by the theatric facial expressions and mimicking noises. “Aunt Giana,” as she would become to the array of nephews and nieces to eventually join the Darcy family, seized every moment possible to bond with her first nephew. Her clear devotion to him and sweet disposition would prevail, forging a deep love that would last down through the decades.