The Trouble with Mr. Darcy

Chapter Twenty-One On the Banks of the Serpentine

“You look absolutely beautiful, Mrs. Darcy.”

He crossed the room, fingers lifting to tie the bonnet strings under her chin.

“Thank you, dearest. I desperately need to stretch my legs, so I also thank you for allowing me to leave the house.”

“Since when have my allowing or not had any bearing on your actions, especially walking?” He shook his head while laughing. “I can recall perhaps a handful of occasions when my dominating demands were harkened to when you disagreed with me. In this instance I surmised this venture wise for everyone involved, as it may improve your grouchiness.”

“It will improve my grouchiness, I can assure you. Being cooped up irritates me…”

“Yes, I know,” he agreed with a teasing lift to his left brow.

“I shall not deny it. And I will only partially blame you and the good doctor for keeping me chained to the house since I admit to not being hale enough to journey far. Of course, a large part of that is entirely your fault, Mr. Darcy.”

“Ah, I see we are going to start that standard accusation again, even before we are certain.” He grinned, extending his arm, which she readily took.

“Indeed we are. I am preparing you for the eventuality, whether I am with child now or at a later date.” She tiptoed and planted a firm kiss to his dimpled chin. “How do I look? Well enough?”

He grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning her uplifted, smiling face side-to-side. “Hmmm… Rosy, if a bit pale from want of sunlight. Eyes clear, lively, and sparkling. Cheeks full and nose pert. Adorable in every way and full of youthful vigor. Quite perfect, my dearest wife. Perfect.”

“Thank you.”

“As stunning and hearty as you appear, are you sure you shall not be overcome with nausea midway along the promenade?”

“I make no promises. But my stomach is currently stable and I do not plan to embarrass you in front of all London society.”

“I was only thinking of you possibly messing this gorgeous gown. I would be standing there foolishly grinning and declaring to any onlookers that my divine wife may soon be presenting me with a daughter.”

“Ridiculous man. Now who is leaping ahead before we are certain? In all seriousness, thank you, William, for planning today and setting aside your business to be with us.”

“Nothing pleases me more than the thought of spending an entire day with my family and our friends. Besides, I need this outing and respite from the chaos as much as you.”

“Are you sure nothing will interfere? No pressing affairs that Mr. Daniels will insist must be attended to immediately or the fate of Pemberley will teeter on the edge of destruction?”

He winked, lowering his voice in mock secrecy, “I told him I was leaving the country for a while so he would not pester me.” She laughed and shook her head, Darcy continuing in a normal tone, “I am all yours today. Did you doubt my assertion?”

She shook her head, eyes flaring with sudden mischief and promise. “No. Merely wanting to reaffirm. I intend to prove my healthiness to you, my husband, so you will no longer worry and annoy me with your overbearing attentiveness. I want to walk the garden paths, frolic with the children, laugh with our friends, and eat until bursting. Then”—she leaned into his body, mouth brushing against his ear—“later while the children are napping I will further prove my robustness by removing all your clothing and ravishing you all afternoon until you are begging for mercy.” She seized the lobe between her lips, tugging decisively before running the tip of her tongue over the sensitized skin.

Darcy growled deep in his chest, pulling her body hard against his torso. Huskily, he responded, “Do not tease me if you are unsure of the outcome.”

She placed her smiling lips lightly over his. “I am acutely aware of the outcome and prepared to ensure you are not disappointed.”

“I am never disappointed with you, Elizabeth. However, I will admit the prospect as you outline it is abundantly appealing.”

He brushed his lips over her collarbone, Lizzy squeezing tightly. “You have been so patient and devoted, Fitzwilliam. My love for you has grown to another level through this trauma. I cannot explain it, but I know it to be true. Your care for our sons and me has been remarkable. My gratefulness is not the root cause of my yearning to love you, but I will say that the emotion augments my desire. Truthfully, as much as my pride hates to admit it, I do feel vulnerable these days. It may be pathetic, but activity clears my mind and erases the residual fear. Vigorous loving declares my vitality in a special way that heals me, not to mention how enjoyable it is to love you.”

She ended her statement with a teasing smile, but Darcy sensed the unease underneath. His embrace was tender but stalwart, gazing into her eyes for several heartbeats before whispering, “Elizabeth, I love you.”

The consuming kiss that followed conveyed his boundless love and happiness, Lizzy returning the searing exchange wholeheartedly. Instinctively their hands kneaded and stroked as mouths battled gloriously. Lizzy’s escalating ardor was felt deep in her belly, in those hidden places that only his touch could reach. Darcy’s heightening passion was felt pressing hard into his wife’s lower abdomen.

Both of their hearts were pounding, the mutual rush of blood and heavy breathing drowning out all extrinsic sounds and Darcy had taken a sideways step toward the bed when they were interrupted.

“Mama! Papa! I got bread cumbs for the duckies! Nanny has Michael dressed and sent me to get you. Hurry! Carriage outside!” Alexander had barreled into their legs, grabbing on to skirt and breeches, and was tugging insistently. Darcy and Lizzy staggered at the forceful impact, clutches steadying the other as they separated a pace. Lizzy burst into laughter, Darcy turning his red face and aroused body away from his son. Fortunately Alexander was innocently impervious, although as he grew, his awareness would follow a similar path as Darcy’s with regards to his parents. Frequent embraces of an intimate nature would be a matter of course for the numerous Darcy offspring to witness, their parents’ love and passion multiplying as the years progressed.

But for now the toddler was only interested in picnics and play at the park. His parents followed him to the foyer, his piping voice nonstop in expressing his enthusiasm. George scooped him up, playfully planting his large hand over the child’s mouth.

“Uncle Goj!” He exclaimed as soon as his mouth was freed. “You smashing my bread! How duckies eat them now?”

George rolled his eyes and then winked at Lizzy and Darcy, the group chatty as they filed onto the street and into the parked carriage.

The short drive south on Park Lane to the Hyde Park Corner entrance on Knightsbridge took longer than typical due to heavy traffic. It was a gorgeous day in April with crowds of merrymakers taking advantage of the placid temperatures in dozens of outdoor pursuits, carriages and horses and pedestrians vying for space on the walkways and avenues. The sun shone brightly, but a steady breeze off the Thames cooled the air. Scattered white puffy clouds offered breaks in the sun’s direct intensity and created interesting shadows along the ground.

The intriguing combination of shadow and clouds fascinated Alexander and finally halted his tongue. From his perch on Uncle Goj’s lap, he could study the patterns formed by the cottony clouds high in the azure sky and the silhouettes moving over the land. Darcy kept a close eye on Lizzy, but she appeared perfectly fine as she sat beside him chatting with Georgiana, who sat across holding a wiggling Michael and next to George with his sedate burden.

The ladies fluttered fans, but more out of habit and to keep the dust away from faces sheltered by wide bonnet brims. It was tolerably warm and the open calash permitted the gentle wind to waft over their bodies. George, of course, was attired in a flowing Indian garment of lightest silk, pale blue with edgings in navy that accented his sapphire eyes. His head was hatless in defiance of proper fashion, and a flashily embroidered and beaded pair of new juttis adorned his long feet. The cut left most of his upper feet bare, Darcy frowning upon seeing the scandalous footwear, but George just grinned and wore them anyway.

Lizzy and Georgiana were gowned in dresses of finely woven muslin as thin and loose as modesty would allow. Georgiana’s was dandelion yellow with lacy sleeves capped upon her shoulders. Lizzy was similarly clothed, her gown a fallow-brown trimmed in copper with layered half-sleeves. Their wrist-height gloves were netted for ventilation, leaving the greater part of their arms bare and unprotected except for the matching shawls currently bunched at their elbows. Fashionably protecting their fair faces from the harshest rays of the sun were brimmed hats strategically placed to shield while also accenting elaborate coiffures and jewels.

Darcy, naturally, was resplendent and every inch the dashing English gentleman. From his tall, felted beaver hat to the tips of his polished, mid-calf Wellington boots, he oozed 1820 style. Although he did own a large collection of longer trousers and pantaloons, Darcy still preferred breeches, today wearing a calf-length pair of beige nankeen precisely tailored for his muscular lower body and tucked with barely a wrinkle into the tops of his black boots. His brown-and-gray-striped waistcoat and jacket of Prussian blue were sewn from lightweight kerseymere, the lacy white cravat tied elaborately but loose, all designed to withstand the soaring heat and humidity of a London summer.

As usual, it was his professional valet who selected the day’s attire, Darcy rarely having an opinion on the subject. Samuel was well aware of the societal nuances in dress and accoutrements that were essential for the various meetings, activities, and places that filled Mr. Darcy’s schedule, knowing it better than Darcy did. Today he had decided that, although still April and the average temperatures not rising to drastic levels, his Master would be worried over his family and thus would need to be comfortable. Of course, Darcy did not know this was Samuel’s reasoning, simply donning the individual garments with barely a glance. His only disagreement was on wearing gloves or taking a walking stick. He did not care for the ridiculous affectation of a dandified cane when he was perfectly capable of walking unassisted and he also wished to keep his hands bare and unencumbered so he could delight in the touch of his wife and sons.

He reached across to rescue the increasingly rambunctious Michael from Georgiana’s questionable grasp. She smiled her thanks, but otherwise maintained the steady prattling conversation with Elizabeth. Lizzy’s cheeks were rosy and eyes alit with delight as they turned onto the spacious access through the massive gates at the corner entrance to Hyde Park.

The King’s Road, built by William III in 1690 as a direct route between Kensington Palace and St. James’s Palace, was one of several carriageways cutting through the enormous royal park, but it was by far the largest and most popular. It was broad enough to easily accommodate three carriages abreast, thickly paved with a sea of coarse gravel from the Thames, and lined with manicured lawns, hedges, and footpaths. With over three hundred lamps positioned to illuminate the thoroughfare at night, this avenue held the distinction of being the first in the country to be artificially lit, a fact Londoners were proud of. Officially named The King’s Road, the corruption of the French “Route de Roi” led to the more common, humorous name of Rotten Row. Of course, there was nothing “rotten” about it, the avenue pristinely maintained and scenic with a stunning view of the Serpentine’s glittering blue waters through the trees and bushes to the north.

The fine carriage emblazoned with the Darcy crest was admitted to Hyde Park, the guard nodding briefly to the driver. The true “fashionable hour” for promenading and flirting would not be until later in the afternoon, but at this earlier part of the day, Rotten Row was far from empty. Several equally fine carriages were making their way west along the avenue, mixing in with the dozens of pedestrians and equestrians roaming up and down the graveled track. The clamor of hooves, wheels, and raised voices was intense, even with the relative sparsity in noontime visitors. Lizzy and Georgiana began waving at people they knew, Darcy nodding sedately as well, but the driver did not halt. Under orders from Mr. Darcy to proceed west until signaled to stop, he urged the horses at a stately pace.

They traveled roughly a mile, slowing for occasional brief conversations with known acquaintances either mounted on magnificent steeds or reclining in opulent carriages. Finally, when nearing a grouping of tall cedars and a bubbling fountain near a diverging footpath, Darcy addressed the driver and instructed him to halt. It was here that the occupants disembarked for their exercise.

The Darcy House footman jumped down to open the calash doors and then turned to assist Mrs. Hanford from her perch next to the driver. The perambulator was untied from the rear footboard and a protesting Michael secured inside the cushioned bed with a wide, leather strap spanning the opening. Darcy had been forced to emergently fashion a restraint for the small baby carriage two days before they departed Pemberley, after Michael exploded in a fit of temper while strolling with his parents and brother through the private garden. He had dropped his favorite toy, a ring of metal keys that clanged so beautifully when shook, arching his back and kicking his legs so violently that it was only Darcy’s swift reflexes that saved the contorting infant from tumbling to the pebbled pathway. It was an incident that had never remotely occurred with Alexander, taking both parents utterly by surprise. The agitated father had marched into the stable yard and enlisted the aid of the mechanical wizard Stan in the project. So far the shackle was working fairly well to keep Michael in place, but Darcy remained vigilant.

“Calm down, you rascal!” Darcy knelt by the pram, tucking the folded blankets and padding around his irate son, propping him safely so he could see over the edge without escaping. “Here are your keys and your rattles. Elizabeth, do we have one of those biscuits he loves? Excellent. Here you are, sweet. Yum. There, much better, yes? Now can we take our walk? So many pretty flowers and people to capture your attention. Let us pray, that is.” He leaned to kiss the soft forehead, wiping the tears off the ruddy cheeks. Michael gnawed on the hard cookie and reached one hand toward the beloved face of his father. Darcy snatched the chubby fingers between his lips, nibbling until Michael erupted in bubbling giggles.

“And what, pray tell, will you do when he begins to walk? Put him on a leash?”

Darcy glanced upward into the grinning face of his cousin Richard, a smiling Lady Simone on his arm. “I certainly hope such a drastic step will not be necessary, but with this one I may have no option.” He smiled at his son, bestowing another kiss before rising. “Glad you could join us, Cousin. Lady Simone.” He bowed. “A delight to see you. You are well, I trust?”

“Quite well, Mr. Darcy. Thank you. Elizabeth, you look especially radiant. I was so worried for you.”

“Thank you, Simone. I am fully restored, partially due to your husband’s efforts. I have not had the opportunity to thank you properly, dearest Richard.” Lizzy reached to take his hands, squeezing firmly.

“Please, Elizabeth, you shall embarrass me!” Darcy coughed at that ridiculous statement, the colonel ignoring him. “I was delighted to be of service. Besides, your husband needed me to watch his back. Pathetically inept without me to take care of him.”

She shook her head, face serious. “I shall not allow you to jest or make light. I know what you did for us, and I can never adequately express my appreciation. If not for you, your associates, and your intervention, we may not be here. And William could have been…”

She choked on the words, lowering her head to compose her emotions. Darcy touched her lightly on the small of her back, a tender caress as he spoke into the unsettling moment. “Mr. and Mrs. Bingley approach, dearest. Alexander, run and greet your cousin Ethan.”

Lizzy smiled, her emotions again in check as she scanned the group of people milling about the lawn. She looked up at her serene spouse. “I see you have indeed invited everyone we know to join our excursion to Hyde Park.”

“I may have mentioned it to one or two people. How they chose to spend their time is outside my purview.”

Lizzy laughed at his bland statement and squeezed his arm once before joining Simone to accost her sister. The women welcomed each other, voices musical as they ambled the trail leading toward the river’s edge where the blankets were spread. Lizzy’s joy in the out-of-doors was evident to her husband, who turned a carefree face toward Bingley as he neared.

“Elizabeth appears her usual lively self,” Bingley noted, inclining his head to George and Richard in greeting, “and the weather today is perfection for a picnic. Grand idea, Darcy. We have the tents erected and enough food to feed half of London.”

“That is unlikely once I eat my fill.”

“We considered your attendance, Dr. Darcy, and have provided accordingly,” Bingley countered with a wink to his friend.

The four gentlemen assumed a knot trailing leisurely behind the ladies with the children and nannies in between. They exchanged pleasantries for several minutes until Darcy touched Richard’s sleeve, pausing in his steps.

“What is the verdict from Newgate?” he asked, eyes intent upon his skipping son.

“Guilty, all of them, on numerous charges. As pathetic as they were as guards, each one of them possessed histories of crimes that continued to grow with further investigation. In the end, my brilliantly fabricated story was irrelevant. Rather disappointing in a way, but I am glad to see it done. Frankly, I am weary of remembering the night, as exciting as it was in some respects.”

Darcy frowned, but George chuckled. “Rethinking your decision to retire, Colonel?”

Richard shook his head. “Not in the least. Domesticity fits me, I have discovered to my surprise.” George snorted humorously, Richard continuing with a laugh, “I have happily foregone tramping through blood and mud, as have you the jungles and deserts, all for the sake of a fine meal and warm bed. We are not so dissimilar, Dr. Darcy.”

“True, true.” George mourned.

“Surely there are no legal consequences, is there, Darcy?”

“No, Bingley. Mere formalities to appease the authorities. They only spoke with me once, and Colonel Fitzwilliam twice. Orman remains silent and his helpers are grossly ignorant and untrustworthy, so nothing damning there.”

“What did you find when you went to Bethlam, Dr. Darcy?”

George shook his head, his expression unusually serious when he answered Bingley’s question. “Horrid place. Diseases of the mind have never held much interest for me, I am afraid, so I cannot judge with confidence. But his caretakers and the doctors say he is beyond being cured.”

“Based on what the newspapers have written, I was under the impression that the new building in Southwark is impressive and modern. Is this untrue?”

“Oh, it is a fine building, Mr. Bingley. Well constructed, spacious, on a lovely plot of land, and with a fresh water supply. It is the attempts at psychology and healing of mental illnesses that leave much to be desired. Not that I have any enlightened ideologies, but what takes place at the aptly named Bedlam is frequently inhumane, although they do try.”

“I have difficulty mustering any remorse for what Orman may be suffering.” Darcy’s voice was strained, his eyes hard as he stared straight ahead toward his wife and son.

“I comprehend your sentiment, William. We all do, naturally. But I think even you would be softened by what takes place there.”

Darcy did not respond to his uncle’s assertion, feeling not a twinge of compassion for the insane Marquis.

George continued, “Be that as it may, Orman has earned a private cell and is receiving better than normal care. His wealth affords that, at least for now.”

“His wealth is not as vast as one might expect. Mr. Daniels did further probing and, in addition to what the inspector told me today, I believe Lord Orman’s fortune has been largely squandered. For years I have heard the rumors of his decadent lifestyle and mismanagement of his estates. I witnessed it myself. It is just one of a dozen reasons why I loathed him long before he attacked my wife.” Darcy’s normally warm baritone was cold, the contempt evident under the careful regulation of his speech. “He has massive debts accrued, no legitimate heirs, and his crimes are innumerable. My solicitor said that the Crown would likely assume his properties eventually, the subsequent liquidation of his inheritance being confiscated to pay his debts with little left in reserve for his use. Again, I cannot evoke the slightest sorrow or compassion.”

He looked at his uncle with eyes glacial. George nodded and said nothing more. An uncomfortable silence fell. It was clear to all involved, especially those who had known Darcy for extended periods of time, that his mind would not be changed or fury soon relinquished.

They resumed their stroll to the end of the path. The joined waters of the damned River Westbourne and the onetime natural springs that randomly dotted the center acres of the recreational grounds in the heart of London had, since 1730, formed the curved pool spanning the interior of the vast park. Named the Serpentine by Queen Catherine, whose idea it was to revamp the royal hunting and leisure preserve nearly a century prior, the lake was now a prime locale for socializing and diversion among the upper echelons of the ton while away from their country adobes.

Alexander, Ethan, Hugh, and the other children were squealing with glee at the numerous hungry-looking ducks swimming on the surface of the crystalline waters. Harry Pomeroy, a mature youth of nine whole years, stood with the older boys watching the frolicking youngsters, they refusing to cavort as the babies did, but their eyes shone nonetheless.

A wide lawn stretched along the southern shore where they stood and the untamed tree- and shrub-dotted northern banks were visible across the river. The gardens retained a wildness about them that was pleasing to the eye, if not as relaxing as a more sculptured landscaping would be. A sizeable amount of the northern acreage was yet forested and reserved for royal hunting of the deer that freely roamed. Only Kensington Gardens to the west, those lands that surrounded the Palace and were segregated from the rest of the park by the harmonious sunken fence established as a boundary in Queen Catherine’s day, were truly designed and manicured to any great degree. Here in Hyde Park proper, there were only a few areas that could be considered formalized or groomed, such as Rotten Row and the Ring north of the Serpentine.

“I read that his Majesty is considering a renovation of Hyde Park,” Bingley said in an effort to break the silence.

“Indeed,” George answered. “He has requested the presence of architects, engineers, and gardeners from all over England. One article said that John Rennie is designing a bridge to span the Serpentine and that Decimus Burton wants to erect a grand entrance of some sort at the corner.”

“What? Nash has not been invited as yet?” Even Darcy chuckled at Richard’s remark.

“Give it time, Colonel. I am sure the eminent John Nash shall be involved eventually, but I also heard a rumor that our new King wants to renovate Buckingham Palace and has enlisted Nash for that project.”

“Excellent. I can imagine Parliament is thrilled at those drains on the treasury.”

“No politics today, gentlemen,” Darcy interrupted, speaking for the first time since halting. “Let us focus on our families. Speaking of which, Richard, your stepson approaches.”

“Father Richard, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, Dr. Darcy.” Harry Pomeroy bowed to each man before turning to his stepfather. “The boys wish to remove their shoes and stockings and walk in the water. Do they have your permission?”

The fathers nodded their approvals, Richard adding with a smile, “You may join them, Harry. I am sure the water is refreshing.” The older boy lifted his chin and frowned, saying nothing as he turned to rejoin the children currently screeching with joy as they tossed bread by the handfuls and were enveloped by a cloud of quacking ducks. Richard laughed softly, shaking his head. “He thinks he is so grown-up. Reminds me of another boy I once knew.” He glanced slyly at Darcy, who, as typical, ignored his cousin and kept his attention focused on the six men approaching.

“Darcy! Thank you for inviting us. It is a fine day for a leisurely hour in the park.”

“You are most welcome, Sitwell. I knew Elizabeth would appreciate visiting with her friends. How are you, Gerald?”

“Excellent. Could not be better.”

“I know why you are wearing that grin, Mr. Vernor,” George said with a smile. “Mrs. Vernor will be soon presenting you a third child by the looks of things. Congratulations.”

Gerald Vernor bowed, his face beaming. “Thank you, Doctor. It could be any day now, so we are anxious. We waited so long after Spencer that we were beginning to think that was the end of Vernor children. But God has blessed us, and we are humbled and deeply appreciative. The boys are even more excited to greet what they are convinced will be a little brother.”

“Marilyn can barely contain her glee,” Albert Hughes said with a chuckle. “The fact that your child will be mere months younger than ours was not lost on her, I can assure you. And Michael is close in age as well. Our gatherings will surely be lively affairs for the next dozen years or so.”

Darcy smiled, remaining mum on the possibility of yet another Derbyshire baby to join the mix. The symptoms Lizzy experienced were ambiguous at best, neither of them yet credibly trusting the notion so keeping it a hopeful jest for now. Even the eagle-eyed, intuitive diagnostic skills of Dr. George Darcy were not adequate to confirm the inconspicuous signs.

Mr. Hughes continued. “Darcy, as soon as we return home for the summer I need to bring Christopher to Pemberley. He is anxious to transition from pony to stallion, and I will have him ride none but your thoroughbreds. Marilyn would prefer a colt, but I think I can sway her to accept a smaller stallion.”

George laughed. “Sway her, you say. I am not married, mind you, but that does not seem like an enviable proposition. I wish you well in that endeavor, Mr. Hughes.”

Mr. Sitwell spoke in his quiet voice. “Mrs. Darcy appears well, Darcy. Julia was extremely distressed at the horrible truth. She wanted to rush over to Darcy House yesterday afternoon immediately, but I urged her to wait until today.”

Darcy nodded, his gaze on his wife, who was currently being embraced by a tearful Julia Sitwell. Lizzy, Jane, and Simone had joined Chloe, Julia, Marilyn, Harriet, Alison, and Amelia, who had arrived earlier to set up the blankets and picnic essentials. The gentlemen stood at the edge of the pathway, near enough to hear the murmur of excited voices if not individual words. Lizzy turned to catch Darcy’s eye. She was smiling broadly, her face shining and filled with happiness. She mouthed thank you, Darcy inclining his head slightly in response.

“Lord Orman has always been a scoundrel, but I never thought him capable of something so heinous. Wickham either, for that matter,” Mr. Vernor murmured with a visible grimace. He shared a look with Hughes, whose pale face and unnerved eyes revealed a similar inquietude at men they have known for decades behaving evilly.

Hughes cleared his throat, speaking hesitantly and not gazing directly at Darcy when he asked, “I know you are undoubtedly weary of discussing the matter, Darcy, but I am nonetheless intrigued if you have discovered how Orman and Wickham devised such a heinous act.”

Darcy continued to stare at Elizabeth, the pain cloaked behind a neutral mien but notable nevertheless. “Orman was not completely in his right mind, Vernor, not that that excuses his actions. And we saw what Wickham became, his sanity undoubtedly questionable as well,” he responded coldly, proceeding then to give the bare outline of how the two wicked men consorted and plotted.

“My God,” Vernor whispered, truly shaken. “I had no idea. Darcy, I am… stunned. And so sorry.”

Darcy barely hid the grimace the memories evoked. “Thank you, Gerald. I must reiterate that this is to go no further, gentlemen. I trust you in this.” Darcy met each of the men’s eyes, holding firm with a stern stare.

“You know we are trustworthy, Darcy. As are our wives,” Mr. Fitzherbert verified.

They all reaffirmed their silence, Darcy finally sighing and relaxing. “Elizabeth and I want to forget the whole episode. She is well and Alexander is safe. That is all that matters now. Any subsequent talk will only lead to ridiculous insinuations and upset my wife. I will not allow that.”

Darcy never spoke of intimate details or publicly acted in an improper manner, but the intense relationship he shared with his wife was known to his closest friends. These men had known him for years, or, in the case of Gerald Vernor and Albert Hughes, for all of his life. Therefore, they could readily interpret the unconscious gestures and expressions that crossed Darcy’s normally constrained body whenever Mrs. Darcy was present or mentioned. All of them had been witness to tender interactions that were, in most cases, so naturally done that neither was aware of it. Darcy’s friends were no longer shocked or perplexed by the unexpected choice he had made, all truly caring for Elizabeth and happy for the subtle alterations to Darcy’s severe personality. None of them experienced the same intensity in their marriages, so were honest in not comprehending how stricken Darcy probably was by the recent attack. Still, they did love their own wives and children, empathizing and agreeing with the need for secrecy and protection.

“You know we would not wish for gossip, and desire Mrs. Darcy forget it ever happened. Do not fear from us, but what of your staff or others involved?”

“And what of the legalities?” Stephen Lathrop added his concern to Vernor’s.

“The magistrate was uninterested, for the most part, and there were few queries,” Richard explained to the new arrivals, saving Darcy from answering. He gave the same summary related to Bingley, finishing with a warm smile and glance toward Lady Simone. “My wife took pity upon the pathetic, nearly starved, and dimwitted girl used by Orman and Wickham as a slave and God only knows what else. She has been sent to the Fotherby estate to be employed as a kitchen scullion. That will be a far better life for her.”

“Those of my staff who are aware of anything beyond Mrs. Darcy being ill are trustworthy.” A cloud crossed Darcy’s face, his lips setting in a stern line. “All loose ends have been accounted for,” Darcy concluded decisively, the image of Mrs. Smyth’s rented hack wheeling away from Darcy House a perversely happy one.

Mr. Drury, as if divining Darcy’s train of thought, asked, “Have you interviewed my housekeeper’s sister as yet? I scanned her résumé before referring her to Mr. Daniels. It appears impeccable and I can attest to Miss Inglorian’s competence in managing Locknell Hall. If her sister is half as capable, she will be a fine housekeeper for Darcy House.”

“Elizabeth and I have an appointment with her tomorrow. Thank you for the recommendation, but I trust you will understand my caution. I intend to explore all candidates thoroughly and not be hasty in hiring. In fact, Mr. Daniels is supposed to deliver a report today on his findings for the three women we are considering, Mrs. Hass one of them.”

“No, of course I understand your caution, Darcy,” Drury assured him.

“And speaking of Mr. Daniels, your junior solicitor approaches now,” George inserted.

“I apologize for being late, gentlemen. I cannot fathom the mystery of it, but apparently one small child refusing to wear shoes can delay an entire household! Then we stopped at Darcy House to deliver a sheath of papers from my father. I think you will be pleased with the applicants, sir. Are you sure Mrs. Darcy is constitutionally restored to manage three interviews tomorrow? It can be exhausting.”

“My wife thrives on such challenges, Mr. Daniels. The activity will be good for her.”

“Mrs. Daniels will be happy to hear that. She was concerned, naturally, although it does look as if Mrs. Darcy is recovered.”

Silence fell among them, each man lost in personal thoughts of the staggering events while watching their wives and children. Darcy again studied his wife, but she was laughing gaily while nibbling on pieces of cold pheasant and pickled beets. He smiled at the odd dietary combination, praying that it portended of a blessed addition to their family. With her woman’s monthly cycles not resumed after Michael’s birth, there was no way to gauge when she may have conceived, or if she had, therefore they were forced to wait for a surer sign than strange cravings or vague nausea.

“Dare I ask what of Wickham? How have you dealt with that, Darcy?” Mr. Vernor broached in a low voice.

“Circumspectly, Gerald. We agreed that there is no reason for the family to know what happened. Aside from Mrs. Daniels and Mrs. Bingley, of course.”

“Will he be buried in Hertfordshire then?”

Darcy met his lifelong friend’s eyes, understanding the unasked question. “I pray Mr. and Mrs. Wickham are unable to observe events on earth for a host of reasons. If they can, then I must trust they understand why their son will not rest alongside them at Pemberley.”

The men nodded, none disagreeing with his sentiments, and George laid a consoling hand onto his nephew’s shoulder, his voice matching the proud cast to his face when he spoke. “William has paid the burial expenses and wrote a letter to the Bennets eloquently expressing his belief that the Wickhams would appreciate their son being buried where his wife will some day rest.”

The surprise at that gesture was clear upon each face, Clifton Drury whistling and verbalizing what they all thought, “That is generous to say the least, Darcy. Under the circumstances, it is a remarkable action on your part.”

“Generosity had nothing to do with it, I assure you,” Darcy said bluntly. “I was only thinking of my wife and how to minimize her distress. Wickham’s body has been sent to a Meryton mortician who will handle the process with Mr. Bennet’s direction henceforth. I am done with it. They are awaiting Mrs. Wickham’s arrival, who we just heard today from Mrs. Bennet diverted to Bath after Major General and Mrs. Artois’s wedding. A dispatch has been sent. Beyond that, I do not care, to be brutally honest. My family will be leaving for Rosings soon, thus the mourners will not include us.”

“I am happy to hear your plans for Kent have not changed, since new scenery is a wonderful remedy, although Mrs. Hughes insists the seaside best cures her troubles and boredom. Her prescription is several weeks for complete healing, of course.”

“Oh have no fear, Mr. Hughes”—George laughed—“Mrs. Darcy highly enjoys her visits with Lady Catherine! I believe the stimulus of confounding witless Mr. Collins and sparring converse with Lady Catherine will invigorate more than gallons of seawater or gales of sea air.”

Darcy grunted, wincing at their laughter and the vision drawn by Dr. Darcy’s statement. Yet he could not resist a smile—hidden behind a rubbing thumb over his lips—at the undeniable truth of how Elizabeth behaved and the guilty entertainment he reaped whenever dwelling at Rosings. “Elizabeth’s pleasure is derived from visiting with Mrs. Penaflor and Mrs. Collins, strolling the gardens and walkways of the Park, and upon this occasion seeing our new niece,” he stated firmly with an attempted glare at his uncle.

George shook his head, not the slightest repentant. “We shall see which brings her greater relief. I know I am most delighted by annoying Lady Catherine, but then my faults are blatant and myriad compared to Mrs. Darcy.”

“Be sure to take careful notes since I shall not be there to bask in the fun,” Richard requested.

George sketched a check mark in the air, the two exchanging impish grins. Darcy broke into the laughter coming from his friends, voice serious, “You should come with us, Cousin, and not to harass our aunt but to visit Anne and Raul. I doubt they will make the trip to Town this season so soon after Margaret’s birth. The boys would enjoy Rosings Park and the clean air would benefit young Oliver.”

“We had considered it. However, now we think waiting until later in the summer might be best. Rigorous travel is inadvisable at the moment.”

“Is Lord Fotherby’s health again poor, Colonel? I thought his new treatment regime was an improvement.”

“The medicines I and Dr. Angless are using are helping, Mr. Lathrop, but not a cure, sadly. Nevertheless, Lord Fotherby is fit enough to travel I would imagine. Somehow I do not think it is his constitution Colonel Fitzwilliam is concerned about.”

Richard flushed but could not completely hide the light in his eyes even as he attempted to glare at a smirking George. “Just once I wish you were not so skilled as a diagnostician, Doctor.”

Vernor and Hughes puzzled the pieces first, Gerald whistling while Albert extended a hand that Richard automatically shook. “Congratulations, my friend! Well done! Babies and more babies!”

“No public announcements as yet, gentlemen. I am leaving that honor up to Mrs. Fitzwilliam when she decides the time is appropriate. I dare you to cross my wife on that count, Dr. Darcy!”

George pressed a finger to his clamped lips, the other men subduing their congratulations to happy smiles and minute gestures.

“In lieu of my cousin gaining the spotlight with his public announcement, how about I offer one of my own.” All eyes looked to Darcy, who was broadly smiling but gazing over their shoulders toward the picnic area. He indicated the young man approaching with an elderly, stately woman on his arm, Lord and Lady Matlock flanking, and said in a voice bubbling with pride, “Come. Let us join the ladies before they consume all the food. I am parched and famished, plus I wish to proclaim our recent great fortune to the entire assembly.”

He stepped away from their cluster, Richard muttering in mock disgust, “Oh God help us, he is going to make a speech. So much for slaking our thirst and hunger.”

“Fear not, Colonel. There is plenty for all, and while everyone is distracted over William’s announcement, we can dive in unnoticed and steal the best morsels. Come! No slight intended, but feminine company is preferable to a group of prosy old men!” And with a swirl of silk around limber, bony legs, Dr. Darcy flounced across the lawn toward the reclining women.

“Prosy?” Gerald Vernor asked.

“Old?” Albert Hughes commented drolly. “Has he forgotten who the eldest of this group is?”

“This is my uncle we are talking about here,” Darcy said with a chuckle. “Do chronological years really enter into the equation?”

There was no need to answer the redundant question, so they merely shook their heads and followed the doctor’s mincing steps—in a suitable strolling gait—until reaching the canvas sunshade where the ladies and children reposed.

“Lady Warrow”—Darcy bowed deeply toward his great-aunt—“I am pleased you could join us.”

“I adore dining in the out-of-doors, Mr. Darcy. It is a delightful pastime as long as not undertaken too early in the day, mind you. I rarely rise before nine o’clock and it does take this old body far longer to reach a state proper for public viewing than it once did.” She patted the perfectly coiffed silver curls bouncing youthfully at the nape of her neck, the other palm smoothing the fashionable French Empire gown of white lawn that draped her slim body.

“My Lady, you surely jest! Your beauty shines as brightly as ever and you appear no older than I recall from my youth.”

The marchioness fluttered her fan as daintily and coquettishly as a maiden, but her eyes sparkled with a sultry gleam present in few mature ladies. “Dr. Darcy,” she drawled, “where you learned to charm and flirt is a story I long to hear, since I know you did not obtain the skill from my brother, God rest his soul.”

George extended his arm, Lady Warrow leaving Mr. Butler’s side to take the offered support from her nephew, winking as he murmured in a secretive tone, “Indeed it is a dazzling tale, Aunt, but unlikely fit for fragile ears.”

“Thankfully my ears have not been remotely fragile since I was sixteen, so I shall look forward to the conversation. For now, however, we must content ourselves with tales of young, innocent love. I assume you wish to inform the group of our mutual happiness, Mr. Darcy, but you better hurry or I shall blurt it out myself.”

Darcy bowed, grin still broad as he extended his hand to Georgiana. She had managed to remain sitting on the blanket next to Lizzy and not bolt upwards the second Sebastian entered her vision through the greatest of willpower. Now it was as if she was released from a restraining tether and she did jump up, practically hopping across the short distance to take her brother’s hand. At this point there were few doubts in anyone’s mind as to what the news was since Sebastian and Georgiana were staring at each other in utter adoration.

“My friends and family members, it is my great joy to announce that Mr. Sebastian Butler has won the heart of my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy. That his heart has equally been wrest away by Miss Darcy has been affirmed via several sources, most emphatically by the wrester. Thus, it was fairly easy to grant Mr. Butler the honor and privilege of her hand in matrimony when he sought my permission.”

He took their hands and linked them together within his own, continuing in the same resonant timbre, “Join Mrs. Darcy and I in congratulating the betrothed couple!”

From there on it became noisy, laughter and overlapping conversations ruling long into the afternoon. Richard congratulated Darcy on announcing in a concise manner, to which Darcy responded with words that shall not be repeated here. Georgiana and Mr. Butler somehow managed to stay within two feet of each other all afternoon, even when playing with the children. Lady Simone broke her self-imposed plan to delay voicing her hopes by first whispering her suspicions to select ladies, and then two or three others, and before long the whole group knew, thus making it unnecessary for the Fitzwilliams to remain mum. The gentlemen expressed unknowing surprise at the news, Simone too busy receiving congratulations to notice those whose acting skills were inadequate. Richard proved to be as long-winded and emotional at speeches as Darcy ever was, a fact Darcy jumped on with taunting glee!

Harry eventually broke down and removed his stockings, ending up getting wetter and muddier than anyone else. In fact, the only youth who maintained his poise was Oliver, the nearly eighteen-year-old resisting the urge to act other than an Earl should without too much difficulty. Michael’s encounter with the water, while held by Lizzy, elicited squeals of delight but the flapping ducks brought lusty yells not easily quenched. Fiona Lathrop fearlessly joined in with the boys, earning instant respect to be remembered for years to come.

The ducks decided braving the screeching children was worth the treats delivered, but apparently the frogs and lizards disagreed, since not a one was discovered no matter how exhaustive the searching. Dozens of bulrushes were broken during the amphibian/reptile quest and many more were stripped for the pleasure of floating seeds, but luckily the groves were plentiful so the visible effect was negligible.

Kites were strung but the breeze never grew brisk enough to gain altitude. Lawn games were more successful thanks to the level turf. The slopes and valleys located nearby served well for tag and tumbling. Butterflies, moths, and assorted flying insects drifted about, much to the delight of Stuart Vernor and Andrew Fitzherbert, who were fascinated by bugs and captured several interesting specimens for their collections. Julia Sitwell set up her easel, as did her eldest son, Rory, the two capturing the rippling waters of the Serpentine in watercolors with impressive skill. Sebastian withdrew his Tromlitz flute and Georgiana her Celtic lap harp, the expert musicians dazzling everyone with a variety of tunes.

The adults were tireless in their enjoyment of the sunny weather, fine food, and companionship, but the younger children succumbed to extensive play and full bellies. Lugging inert bodies back to the waiting carriages proved harder than carting the loaded baskets down had. Those, at least, were now nearly empty and servants arrived to assist with the larger items. Nevertheless, it was late in the afternoon before they were fully unloaded at Darcy House and the Darcy boys were tucked into their respective beds for naps.

Darcy fell onto the settee before the unlit fireplace in his and Elizabeth’s bedchamber with a loud sigh. He was waiting, rather impatiently, for his wife to emerge from her dressing room. The vague references to freshening up and getting comfortable, whispered in a sultry drawl, did not induce relaxation, but instead instigated certain bodily reactions of a heightening nature.

Elizabeth dearly enjoyed surprising her husband. Of course explicit visual or tactile inducements were unnecessary, but he knew she would not see it that way. Therefore, his mind was pleasantly wandering. Would she wear the over-sized shirt of his that still drove him insane? Would she appear deliciously naked? Perhaps wearing one of the devilish costumes that her modiste designed? Would her hair be yet pinned up so he could thrill in releasing each lustrous tress? Or down in a cloud of fluid waves shrouding her elfin face and delicate shoulders? Would she splash her alabaster skin with her signature essence of lavender or the special musky jasmine that she wore as a treat just for him?

The musings meandered as he removed his shoes and jacket. Again, it truly did not matter; anything she chose was guaranteed to provoke him into a raging inferno of wanton desire. Merely the thought of her was affecting him and his next sigh was more of a moan as blood rushed in a hot surge through his vessels.

He reached a hand to loosen the suddenly constricting cravat just as the door opened. His breathing hitched and hand halted halfway toward his throat, the brief paralysis broken with a cleansing release of air as his eyes swept over the woman who utterly owned his soul. A brilliant smile illuminated his face as he drank in the vision of Lizzy gliding across the short distance.

Her hair was down, tumbling chocolate curls framing her cheeks and falling to her waist in a lush veil. She had chosen to remain in the creamy tan gown with copper trim that she had worn that day, only without any undergarments thus allowing the sheer muslin to cling to her flesh and offer tantalizing hints of the perfection underneath. The fact that a portion of his brain had been disrobing her from this particular dress all day made her choice to keep it on all the more stimulating.

He extended one arm, palm upward, murmuring gutturally, “Ah, Lizzy. What are you trying to do to me?”

She smiled in return, taking the offered hand and lacing her fingers between his, but moved around the narrow settee until behind him. She leaned down, kissing each fingertip ensnared amid her fingers, only then answering his question with a hot whisper against his right ear. “I think you know precisely what I am trying to do. And that I am succeeding admirably.”

He moaned, dropping his head onto the back of the sofa and gazing into her eyes. “You were succeeding before you entered the room, my lover. Now you are killing me!”

“You can handle the stress, my virile husband.” She moved her hands to his shoulders, kneading through the fabric of his waistcoat.

“That does feel wonderful, but I have to say that my shoulders are not the prime area of my body screaming for your touch.”

Smiling as she lowered her mouth to his, her kiss was every bit as penetrating upside down as it was straight on. Darcy cupped her face in his large, warm palms, preventing her straying away from his lips. Nimbly she unbuttoned the waistcoat and top part of his shirt, fingertips grazing over the hairs and skin revealed in the gap before attending to the knots of his neckcloth.

Lizzy had no proof, and could certainly never ask, but she had come to believe that Darcy’s valet drew some sort of mischievous enjoyment in fabricating new, intricate knots for his master’s cravat. Samuel was just as stoic and professional as on the day Lizzy met him as a new bride, marriage to Marguerite not visibly loosening the strict propriety that encased him, but upon occasion she had seen an odd gleam in his eye when Darcy exited his dressing room. He knew that Lizzy was as apt to undress her husband as he was. Darcy, of course, despite his adherence to proper fashion, was not a dandy and therefore paid scant attention to how his neckcloth was tied. But Lizzy saw the humor in it, delighting in the challenge and added thrill as she deciphered the puzzle, unveiling her spouse’s manly neck to her seeking caress.

Today she only loosened the wrapped silk, leaving the looped fabric around his neck and pulling the shirt collar free. Only then, after sliding her palms down his chest to the edge of his breeches waistband and stroking back up to his flexing shoulders, did she withdraw from the delights of his mouth to pepper soft kisses over his face. Straightening, she looked into his half-lidded eyes and clasped the hands that cradled her face. She kissed each palm before releasing them and moving to stand in front of him at his bent knees. There she paused to run her gaze over every masculine inch of his figure, noting the indications of his fervid desire with rising zeal.

Darcy was breathing heavily, lips plump and ruddy from the pressure of her mouth. His skin was alive and tingling from her caress, his heart harshly pounding and arousal aching. He groaned, shifting restlessly on the couch and pressing anxious palm into his thighs as the need to touch her overwhelmed. His frayed restraint faltered dangerously when she unclasped the two buttons between her breasts and proceeded to inch the gown’s sleeves off her shoulders until the décolletage slipped lower. When she then delivered her special seductive smile and bent nearer, offering an abundant display of her bosom in the process, he knew his control was a breath away from being lost. Fortunately, she grasped the dangling strands of his cravat and tugged upward before he literally took matters into his own hands!

Requiring no further inducement he leapt to his feet, broad hands instantly spanning her slim waist and drawing her tight against his body. “Elizabeth,” he moaned, lips traveling hungrily over her neck. “You do delight in tormenting me.”

A rapid undressing commenced while edging toward the bed. Darcy murmured endearments and erotic phrases as typical while grazing over her bared skin. Lizzy silently absorbed the spiraling sensations, allowing her hands and mouth to express her desire. Until, that is, Darcy reached to unwind the cravat from around his neck.

“No,” she gasped, staying his hand. “Leave it on. I find it alluring.”

He laughed softly. “As you wish, my love. Let me take you to our bed.”

They stretched onto the down coverlet, bodies sinking into the fluffed surface as they eagerly reached for each other. Instantly their limbs entwined, hands stroking and fondling, and kisses vehement. Lizzy twisted one long end of the hanging neckcloth around her forearm, grasped the ruffled knots still intact at his throat, and pulled his body onto hers, welcoming his weight with a satisfied sigh as the established rhythm of loving was initiated.

She kept one hand entwined with the white silk, kissing and licking the exposed skin of his neck as they swayed together. Darcy growled, voice rough against her ear, “Is the effect of my cravat as you anticipated, love?”

“You tell me.”

“Indeed I would answer affirmative. And here I thought it was the removal of my neckcloth that aroused you. How inventive of you to leave it on.”

“I would never wish to be boring.”

“That is absolutely impossible.” He shifted to bestow a scorching kiss, accelerating the undulating pace. “Making love with you shall never be boring. That I can promise.”

“No, I do not believe it shall,” she agreed with a promising lilt and lifted brow. Then without any warning she forcefully pushed against his body, Darcy understanding the purpose and rolling smoothly onto his back with his lover in tow and crushed against his torso. Their steady rhythm recommenced after a brief hiccup, and Lizzy resumed her oral play at his neck.

Darcy closed his eyes and arched his neck, a sonant hum expressing his satisfaction at her antics. He caressed lazily over her silky skin, happy to relax and drift with the pleasurable sensations as she unhurriedly trailed kisses and unraveled the complex ties.

Finally she released the last binding and lifted onto her elbows to begin slowly unwinding the damp material from around his neck. Darcy watched her with interest, noting the arch expression in her feverish eyes that meant she had something else planned.

Exchanging a lusty grin with her more-than-willing spouse, Lizzy sat up astride his hips, palms smoothing the trailing silk over his chest all the way to where their bodies joined. Then she lifted the strips of cloth and tickled over the hard ridges of muscle and taut nipples as he writhed underneath her. The ends of her long hair brushed his skin, one leg slithered supplely over his with tiny toes tantalizing. Her whole body energized his sensitive nerves until he was both dazed from the intensity while also alert in anticipation for more.

With a leisurely motion she pulled the silk from his neck and held it to her nose, inhaling deeply. “It smells of you,” she whispered. “Of your cologne and natural scent. The process of unraveling the ties as I draw closer to that hidden part of you that is only for me to touch is vivifying.”

“Elizabeth,” he growled with need, thrusting upward hard and deep. The previous cat-like purrs of contentment had turned to breathy moans and the gentle caresses to demanding strokes. He suddenly yearned to kiss her amazing lips—still wearing that teasing, sensuous smile that drove him crazy—and encircling her wrists with hot hands he tugged.

Instead of complying Lizzy chuckled and evaded his grasp. “Patience, love,” she admonished, waving her finger and fluttering the cloth over his face. Then she tossed her hair, arching her back and exposing her long neck to twine the white silk around, pulling the fabric slowly through her fingers and down between her breasts.

“How do I look?” she asked huskily.

“Far better than I ever have while wearing it, I assure you,” was his guttural response.

She smoothed the tails lying in the valley of her chest and over her belly, all the while watching the open-mouthed mesmerizing intensity of his stare. When she reached the dangling tips at her naval she bent slightly, feathering the edges along his abdomen and groin. The response was fierce, his body shuddering and muscles clenching as an animal growl burst from his throat.

“Inventive enough?”

But the words barely escaped her lips before he sat up, large hands encircling her waist with urgent purpose. Simultaneously his mouth clamped onto hers, the kiss as demanding as the savage pace he set. Meeting his every stroke, Lizzy wound the silk over his shoulders and tied a loose knot at the nape of his neck. The ends she clinched amid her fingers, holding fast while embedding into his thick hair.

Long minutes later he lessened the furious movements, withdrawing from her lips and resting his forehead upon hers. Voice a hoarse rumble, he said, “Your inventiveness drives me mad, Elizabeth. My desire for you is uncontrollable, especially when you toy with me. God, how I love and adore you!”

“I love you as deeply, Fitzwilliam, especially the uncontrollable you.” She smiled into his glazed blue eyes, resuming the wild pace previously set. “I enjoy driving you mad… as you do me. No… need… to… stop…” the latter whispered breathlessly into his ear, punctuated by licks and suckling kisses.

Darcy swallowed and moaned, skimming his hands upward to cup her breasts, thumbs rubbing over her nipples. “Yes! Oh, yes, my Lizzy!”

Later, quite a while later, Darcy pulled his wife’s body tight against his shivering side. With a contented sigh Lizzy nestled comfortably, head lying on the firm pillow of his upper left chest and hand stroking over the drenched hairs covering his muscular torso. She burrowed closer, squeezed his waist, and planted a kiss on his breast. “I love you.”

“I love you, Elizabeth. So very much.”

Silence fell. They listened and absorbed the natural noises of breathing, strong hearts beating, and stroking fingertips. They were wrapped in a warm cocoon of peace and words were not necessary to convey the depth of feeling.

“If you are not already with child,” Darcy’s subdued rumble broke the calm, “perhaps we conceived this afternoon. It was remarkable,” he finished with understatement.

There was humor in his tone but also a hint of hopefulness. She squeezed his waist once again before recommencing a tactile investigation of his figure.

“You no longer have any fears at the possibility? No lingering dismay for the ill timing?”

“I never felt dismay at the idea of another baby, my heart. My fears were only for your health and for our relationship.” He paused, voice dropping into a husky timbre. “Those fears were ludicrous. I should have trusted in what we have learned and in what we have built together. God in His mercy has given us many blessings and He will care for us.”

She lifted onto her elbows, lying half over his body, and looked into his eyes. “I have a strong suspicion that this afternoon’s assignation shall have no bearing on a conception that has already occurred, but it is nice to hear your positive thoughts on the subject. After all, there are dozens of rooms vacant at Pemberley to fill.”

“A dozen may be difficult to accomplish”—he laughed—“even for us! I am content to fill a portion of the bedchambers and leave the remainder to be occupied by visiting children. Pemberley has her limits and with the rapid procreation happening around us, I daresay there may come a day when we reach maximum capacity!”