To Conquer Mr. Darcy

Fourteen

Elizabeth was pleased to discover Darcy’s frame of mind substantially improved by the next morning. If not in particularly good spirits, he no longer appeared actively distressed, even when it came time to depart for St. Clements. They arrived there just before the hour to find Lydia fidgeting in her impatience for matters to proceed, and full of complaints about her stay in London. Mrs. Gardiner was clearly tempted to put in a few words of her own, but managed to restrain herself to sharing with Elizabeth some of the frustrations of the past two weeks.

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief when they entered the church and found that Wickham was in fact there. Her one fear had been that he would somehow fail to appear. He greeted them both in his most amiable manner, and Elizabeth was proud to see Darcy managing to be in general civil. Fortunately, the ceremony began shortly thereafter.

As Lydia came down the aisle on her uncle’s arm, Elizabeth could not help thinking back to making the same journey herself in Matlock, but the similarities between the two occasions ended there. Lydia’s giggling and flirtatious glances at Wickham seemed to make a mockery of what should have been a solemn occasion, and while Wickham’s demeanor was more appropriate, she knew the ceremony meant nothing to him but a source of income. The curate had little interest in the occasion, since Wickham lived in the parish but was not a churchgoer, and he gabbled his way through the service as quickly as possible. At one point Elizabeth turned to Darcy and saw that his jaw had a grim set to it. With a feeling of mischief, she whispered to him, “Are you arguing with me again?” and was pleased to see the corners of his lips lift in a barely disguised smile.

The service could not end soon enough for Elizabeth, and afterwards she bore Lydia’s company as well as she could manage while Darcy, Wickham, and Mr. Gardiner met with Darcy’s attorney to finalize the money matters. When they returned, Lydia and Wickham set forth on the coach to Newcastle after a few more foolish comments from the bride.

“I am glad that your father did not give in to your mother and allow them to return to Longbourn,” Darcy said in Elizabeth’s ear.

“I was grateful that you were there when the question arose, or I fear that he might have been unable to hold his position. My mother can be very persistent.”

“I am hardly surprised, though I do not believe that I am in any position to criticize anyone for being persistent,” he teased. “But let us bid your aunt and uncle farewell; Georgiana will be expecting us home soon.”

Their first months at Pemberley passed quickly. It was soon difficult for Elizabeth to recall a time when Mr. Darcy had not been in her thoughts constantly, and she became accustomed to the duties of the Mistress of Pemberley, with substantial assistance from Mrs. Reynolds.

One day after they had been discussing the menus, Mrs. Reynolds said, “If I may consult you on a separate matter, madam, I have been wondering whether to start preparing the nursery. It has not been used since Miss Darcy was a babe, and it is not in the best condition.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, wondering whether this question dealt in generalities or if Mrs. Reynolds had made some surmises. She herself had been questioning for some time the changes she was feeling in her body. She ought to have suspected that Mrs. Reynolds would miss nothing. Elizabeth had no doubts that the housekeeper was eagerly anticipating the arrival of Mr. Darcy’s children, and surely she would have been watching carefully for any signs that the mistress might be increasing. “You seem to have some suspicions, Mrs. Reynolds,” she said delicately.

“You have had that look about you of late, Mrs. Darcy,” she acknowledged.

“I have had some suspicions of my own, but they are nothing more than that, so I would appreciate it if this went no further at this point. I have no great expertise in this matter, and I would not wish to raise any false hopes.”

“You have not shared this with Mr. Darcy, I assume,” Mrs. Reynolds said with the boldness of a long-time family servant. “He still seems very happy.”

“Why should he not be happy?”

“Oh, madam,” Mrs. Reynolds said, “I venture to guess that when informed of the situation Mr. Darcy will suffer from a case of nerves such as you will scarcely believe, and it will be all we can do to contain him. It was so when his mother was increasing, and I have no doubt that it will be all the worse for that.”

It came to Elizabeth that Mrs. Reynolds had not raised this subject by accident. “Pray continue.”

“The young master was quite affected by Lady Anne’s illness after Miss Georgiana’s birth; we thought at the time that she was unlikely to remain with us. He had always been close to his mother, though never closer than when he sat with her every day during her recovery. When he discovered that she was once again in a delicate condition a few years later, he became quite, shall I say, paralyzed with concern for her, fearing the worst. All of us tried to reassure him, but he would not speak of his worries to anyone. When his worst fears came true, he was devastated.” Mrs. Reynolds paused. “To this day, I have seen that he is uncomfortable when confronted with any woman in such a condition, and I can only imagine that it will be all the worse for him when it is his wife he sees before him.”

This was hardly what Elizabeth wished to hear; she had found herself feeling increasingly needy of Darcy’s support and affection during this time of uncertainty. It was difficult enough for a woman as independent in spirit as she to feel so reliant on another, and the idea that he might himself be in need of support—extensive support, if Mrs. Reynolds was to be credited—was a disturbing one. It was a grave disappointment to think that his response to her condition might not be pleasure or anticipation, but rather distress; she certainly did not wish for him to suffer in any way, and she had so looked forward to surprising him with the intelligence that their family was to increase. If only she could be nearer to Jane, or to her aunt Gardiner… but such thoughts could bring her no satisfaction. “I see,” she said slowly, beginning to realize just how alone the Mistress of Pemberley could be in some matters. She found herself wishing that she could open up her heart to Mrs. Reynolds as Georgiana and occasionally even Darcy did, but she was cognizant of the inappropriateness of such a course of action.

It occurred to her that, given the turn of the present conversation, she could, however, turn to the housekeeper for some of the information that she felt herself to be so sadly lacking. “Mrs. Reynolds, it would be helpful to me if I had more knowledge of the signs I should be watching for in myself to have more certainty as to my condition.”

Mrs. Reynolds realized that the mistress, living at such a distance from her family, was left without more experienced women to turn to for assistance in these matters. Suspecting that the strong-willed Mrs. Darcy might not respond well to a motherly sympathy from her, she said briskly, “Indeed I would imagine so. One can never know for certain, of course, until the babe quickens, and I suspect you are not so far along as that, but there are certain signs that can be a good indication.” She proceeded to elaborate on some of the changes that would accompany such an event, concluding that there was an excellent midwife in the district, and that Elizabeth would be in good hands should she be required.

To her attentive listener, her words served only as a confirmation of her suspicions, and she thanked Mrs. Reynolds for the advice.

The housekeeper looked at her sharply. “You might wish to consider taking Lucy into your confidence, Mrs. Darcy. She is very discreet, and would be invaluable in helping you through the more difficult times, especially if you choose not to share the news with Mr. Darcy as of yet. You can also rely on Wilkins, who has had a good deal of experience in seeing Mr. Darcy through difficult times.”

Elizabeth promised to consider these thoughts. After leaving her presence, Mrs. Reynolds shook her head with a smile. Yes, she could certainly be proud of Mrs. Darcy, and grateful that she had the strength to handle some of the master’s complexities. She would need help, however, and the housekeeper went off to consider how best to support her once Mr. Darcy became aware of the situation.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth laid her head on her hands. She considered how to handle the matter, finding that she was reluctant to keep a secret from her husband, yet understanding that if it was to cause him the degree of worry Mrs. Reynolds feared, it would be best to limit the time he would need to face that worry. She sighed, thinking of her husband’s impressive ability to prognosticate the worst possible outcome and his propensity toward anxiety. Why could this not be simpler? she asked herself in some distress. Why could he not simply be pleased and excited, as any other man would be?

At length she resolved to wait. The Gardiners were due to arrive for their Christmas visit the following week, and would be staying for over a fortnight. After their departure, if all the signs still suggested that her suspicions were correct, she would tell him. She would certainly take advantage of her aunt’s presence to discuss the matter with her, as well.

Over the next weeks, it became increasingly clear to Elizabeth that there was in fact an extensive silent conspiracy devoted to protecting Darcy from painful knowledge. Certain subtle changes began to take place within the household. Fires were built up higher in rooms when she was present, the foods served shifted further towards her preferences, with obvious attention to a potentially queasy stomach, footstools appeared near the chairs she favored when none had been there previously, and she became aware that the footmen were taking careful note when she departed on her walks and the direction she took. The stealth with which this occurred was more convincing than anything else to Elizabeth that Mrs. Reynolds’ concerns were well-founded, if her fears were shared by other servants who had been with the family for years. She found herself grateful for the quiet fuss being made over her comfort, not so much for the physical changes as for the expression of concern it represented.

She found it less difficult to keep her knowledge of her condition from Darcy than she had expected when she considered how much it might trouble him. The arrival of the Gardiners provided a helpful distraction. She was delighted to see them, and looked forward to long talks with her aunt. It was her first chance to meet the newest of the young Gardiners, now only two months old, and holding him made her dream wistfully of the time that her own child would be in her arms. She was pleased to see Darcy enjoying the company of the older Gardiner children; had his behavior towards Georgiana not already told her that he would be a devoted father, this would have been evidence of it.

Elizabeth relied heavily on Mrs. Reynolds for the arrangements for Christmas, allowing her to dictate which servants would go home, and which would have their families join them at Pemberley. The house was decorated with holly and ivy, the midwinter greenery adding a welcome touch of informality to the stately halls of Pemberley House. Elizabeth enjoyed the quiet solemnity of the season with her family, and was pleased with the atmosphere of tranquility that attended the gathering.

It was clear that Darcy was also contented with the holiday, which was certainly livelier for the addition of the Gardiner family and Elizabeth’s influence. Although he was genuinely sorry to see their guests depart, he was also grateful to have Elizabeth to himself once more. He arranged matters so that he could spend much of the day in her presence, enjoying the peace and pleasure that he experienced by her side. Snow began to fall by evening, and she convinced him to come outside to watch it with her, and in the silence of the darkness he put his arms around her, more caught by her beauty than that of nature. “Let us retire early tonight, my love,” he said softly in her ear.

She looked up at him affectionately. “I thought you would never ask.”

Elizabeth had felt the quickening a few days earlier, and it seemed wrong not to share her knowledge at this point, but his countenance exhibited such a happy tranquility that she had not been able to bring herself to do anything that might shatter it. After they had retired and taken their pleasure of each other, however, she knew that she could no longer delay.

“William,” she began as she lay in his arms, then lapsed into silence as she realized that in her wish to avoid thinking about his reaction, she had given no thought to how to share the news with him.

“Yes, my love?” he asked affectionately, winding her hair around his hand.

“I love you very much—I hope you know that,” she temporized.

“I believe that I do, but I never object to hearing it. As it happens, I adore you passionately.”

She took a deep breath, but then said nothing. Her weakness in this matter was infuriating, but the truth was that she was afraid of hearing that he was upset over her state. The idea of their child was such a happy one to her that she knew it would be difficult for her if his reaction were in the least negative. She buried her head in his shoulder, trying to summon her courage.

His voice was very gentle. “Whatever it is, I will not be angry with you, my love.”

There were times when she wished that he could not read her quite so well. “I do have something to tell you,” she said slowly, “and I am concerned as to how you will react, but I doubt that you will be angry.”

“Well, I shall attempt to brace myself,” he said with a slight smile.

She despised how dependent upon his approval she felt in her present condition. Unable to bring herself to say the words, she instead took his hand and laid it on the place where the baby had begun to make himself felt. She found herself holding her breath as she awaited his understanding.

Her first indication of his comprehension came when she felt his body stiffen slightly. “What is it that you are trying to tell me, Elizabeth?” he asked, his voice level.

“That you may expect an heir to Pemberley in several months,” she said, relieved to finally say the words.

Darcy felt as if a great weight had fallen in on him. He had known on some level that this moment would come sooner or later, but he had wanted so badly to deny it. Like a prisoner waiting to hear his sentence, he said, “In several months?”

“My aunt suspects it will be late in May,” she said softly. The answer to her question was apparent; he evidenced no pleasure at the intelligence. Very well, she told herself firmly, ignoring a stab of pain, I shall have to be pleased and excited enough for both of us. She awaited his response, and when it became clear that none was immediately forthcoming, she anxiously added, “My dearest, have you nothing else to say?”

“Please, Elizabeth!” He caught himself, and seeing the look on her face, sighed almost imperceptibly. Yes, he needed to say something, but it would not be easy. “That is very exciting news, my love; forgive me if it takes me a little time to become accustomed to the idea.” A little time? he asked himself mockingly. I doubt that I shall ever become accustomed to this idea. He gathered her to him almost convulsively. He knew that he should be expressing his delight to her, but that far he could not bring himself to go. “I love you, my sweetest, loveliest Elizabeth,” he whispered, wondering how he could possibly survive it if the worst happened.

Determinedly, she said, “And now it is your turn to tell me what is troubling you.”

“My love, there is no need to worry about me,” Darcy said in what he hoped was a reassuring voice.

Elizabeth decided to change her strategy. “William,” she said teasingly, “if you do not tell me about whatever implausible conclusion you have reached, I will have to take drastic measures to make you do so.”

He accepted the distraction gladly. “And how, madam, do you plan to make me speak?” he asked lightly.

She raised herself off the bed and leaned her hands on his shoulders. “By physical force, if necessary, sir!”

An unwilling smile began to tug at the corners of his mouth at the image of Elizabeth attempting to bodily subdue him. “I tremble before you, my love.”

She kissed him lightly. Her voice serious again, she said, “I beg of you, William, do not exclude me. I cannot tell you how that pains me.”

“Elizabeth, please believe me…” She could tell from his tone that he had no intention of sharing his concerns, and she had no patience for his reserve.

“I do not believe you, William! I am not so lacking in perception as to be unable to ascertain when something is troubling you. How would you feel if you knew that I was keeping something from you under these circumstances—would you not feel hurt and betrayed?” She knew of nothing that would be more likely to force him to speak than to indicate that he was paining her by not doing so, and she was determined not to rest until he understood her need.

She had trapped him; he recognized it immediately. With a deep sigh, he said, “Enough. Since you will not be moved, I will tell you of my reservations, although it goes against my better judgment. But please be patient with me; this will not be easy for me.”

Her face softened as she relaxed back into his embrace. “Thank you, my dearest.”

Darcy hardly knew how to begin to put his thoughts in order. The last thing he wanted was to bring worries to her mind that could only make matters more difficult for her, yet he knew with the instincts he had developed in his time with Elizabeth that she was correct to be concerned that secrecy on such a matter could come between them. “I cannot deny that I would like to see our children running through the halls of Pemberley,” he began slowly. “At the same time, I am all too aware of the risks of childbearing, and I find the idea of any risk to you, my dearest, well-nigh intolerable.” There was no point, he thought, in saying that he would rather not have an heir than have her face that danger. There was, after all, nothing that could be done about it.

Relieved that he was sharing his concerns, she responded with logic that she hoped would ease his mind. “But there is no reason to feel that I am at any risk. I am young, of good health, and my mother gave birth to five children in six years with what I understand to have been remarkably little difficulty.”

He sighed. “It is nothing so rational, my love. I had the misfortune of watching my mother go through a long illness and eventually die in childbirth, and the idea that the same could happen to you…” He found he could not complete his thought.

She stroked his hair tenderly, sensing the strong emotions he was working to suppress. “Will you tell me about it, love?” she asked gently.

He gave her a startled look. “About why I fear losing you?”

She smiled at him understandingly. “No, William, about your mother.” She held her breath awaiting his reaction.

It did not come immediately. “Elizabeth, my dearest love, forgive me; that is a subject that I find very difficult to discuss,” he finally said carefully.

Elizabeth’s instinct was to reassure him that he need say nothing that he did not wish, but she knew that would not serve. She simply waited, reminding herself of the importance of this. At last he sighed. “You are not going to rest until I accommodate you, are you?”

She shook her head. “I am afraid that I will not, given that her ghost threatens to stand between us.”

He acknowledged her point with a quirk of his eyebrow. “What would you like to know, then?”

She smoothed his hair from his face. “Can you tell me what happened?”

He closed his eyes, a pained look on his face. “Once, when I was young, perhaps seven or eight, I was tormenting my mother with complaints about why our family had no other children, and demanding a little brother. Her spirits were quite lively in those days, but I recall that she had tears in her eyes when she told me that the doctors had said that it would not be safe for her to have another child. I gather there was some cause for concern at my birth that led them to this conclusion. Needless to say, I felt ashamed of upsetting her, and the moment stayed with me as a result. When it became clear a few years later that she had acted against the advice of the doctors, I could tell that my father was greatly concerned, although my mother seemed not to be. I did not know who to believe, but it weighed heavily on my mind.”

He sighed before continuing. “You have no doubt heard that she was very ill after Georgiana’s birth. I remember that she was well and happy one day, then the next everyone was speaking in hushed whispers, and I was told that my mother might not be with us much longer. As it happened, that stage lasted for months. She was too ill even to hold Georgiana, but she seemed to find some comfort in having me sit with her, so I spent hours each day at her side, talking to her, reading aloud, or just bearing her company, and wondering if she would see the next dawn.” His voice caught, and he stopped speaking.

She sought to bring him back to the present by kissing him tenderly. “Where was your father during that time?”

“I hardly saw him,” Darcy said tightly, leashed anger apparent in his voice. “He knew that he was responsible for what had happened, and he could not face her. And poor Georgiana was a victim as well. None of us had time for her, and she was left to the wet-nurse and Mrs. Reynolds.”

Puzzled, Elizabeth asked, “What had your father done, that he was responsible for your mother’s illness?”

He turned his head to look at her, his gaze dark and penetrating. “The same that I have done, to be responsible for the risk you face.”

She sat up, appalled by his words. “William, do you blame yourself for my condition?”

His voice was steely as he said, “You did not create the situation by yourself, and we are both aware which of us insisted on the circumstances that led to it.”

“William, this is not a cause for regrets, but for rejoicing! It is a normal part of life, and you are not at fault for sharing my bed. I would have it no other way! From what little you have said, it sounds as if your mother wanted another child desperately, and was pleased by her condition. I do not know where you came upon this idea that it was something your father forced upon her, but I insist that you disabuse yourself of it immediately!”

His look was impenetrable. “She never recovered, Elizabeth. She improved, certainly, but she never regained her vitality, and was never again the lively, witty woman she once was. Yet five years later, he did it again, but that time we all knew what was to come to pass. I watched her fade away for months, and one evening I bade her good night, and the next morning Mrs. Reynolds told me that she was no longer with us.” His voice was raw with grief.

She looked at him steadily, seeing the confusion of the boy he had been, losing his mother to death and his father to grieving, his understanding of the situation limited, but trying to take on the responsibility of an adult through it all. “William,” she said gently, “would you have denied your parents the comfort of each other’s love? What happened to your mother was tragic, but it was no one’s fault.”

He was silent for some time, moving only to stroke her hair. “Elizabeth, my family was never the same afterwards. My father grieved for years, and he and I were not the best of friends afterwards, because I reminded him too much of my mother, and I blamed him for her death. That was when George Wickham made his way into my father’s confidence, and I fear made some efforts to turn him against me. It was a bitter time.”

“I am so sorry, my dearest. How unfortunate that you in some ways lost both parents at the same time, and at a difficult age.”

He turned onto his side to face her. “It took you to bring the joy back to Pemberley, my love,” he said with intense feeling.

“Oh, William,” she replied, her heart aching for his losses.

“I mean it, Elizabeth. There was always grief here, to one extent or another, after my mother’s death, and although the loss impacted me less once I was out in society, I became trapped in another net, one of people who valued me only as a commodity. I became world-weary and cynical. There were so few people whose affection I trusted—and then I met you, with your liveliness and wit and infectious smiles, everything I had lacked for all those years.” He paused for a moment to kiss her with an emotional urgency. “So you can see, my dearest, most beloved Elizabeth, why the thought of losing you torments me.”

She held his face in her hands, gazing into his eyes. “I can see why my condition will raise unhappy memories for you, dearest, but you have no reason to fear for me,” she said steadily. “I am not your mother, and the past is not the present. So long as you are able to tell me what you feel, we can share this burden, but I will not allow you to have the past predict the future.”

He gathered her into his arms. “Darling Elizabeth,” he murmured, his voice evidencing a slight quiver.

She held him tightly, speaking endearments quietly in his ear, until she felt his body releasing its tension. “All will be well, my dearest,” she whispered.

“I shall require a great deal of reassurance of that,” he replied in a muffled voice, turning to kiss her tenderly.

“I will be happy to reassure you whenever you like,” she said lightly, “because I know that your worries are groundless.” She gave him a teasing smile, then added, “I can offer this as proof of my position: as nearly as I can judge, every servant at Pemberley has known of my condition for weeks, and their only thought has been to protect you from the knowledge of it.”

He turned a startled stare on her. “No,” he said disbelievingly.

An amused smile curved her mouth. “Yes. You have a very devoted household.”

He rolled onto his back, covering his face with his hands. “There is no privacy to be had as Master of Pemberley,” he said with bemused regret.

“None, so far as I can see. Fortunately, you do still have a few consolations.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “What consolations do you have in mind, my love?”

She smiled slowly and ran her hand down his side slowly. “Tell me what you would like,” she whispered provocatively.

“You,” he said intensely. “You, now and always.” He tangled his hand in her hair, pulling her head towards his, then slowly lowered his mouth to hers until they met in passionate communion.

Elizabeth woke during the night with the feeling that something was amiss. The fire had burned down, but she could tell from his body that Darcy was wakeful as well. He was, in fact, making no effort to sleep, but was propped up on one elbow beside her, his other hand resting lightly on her side.

“William, are you well?” she asked with sleepy concern.

“Quite well,” he said softly. “I am sorry to have disturbed you, my love.”

“What keeps you awake so late?”

“I have been thinking.”

“Now that is a dangerous activity. I hope it is not a serious matter.”

“No.” He moved his hand, caressing her body gently. “I have been thinking about our child.”

She reached up to touch his cheek. His countenance seemed quite peaceful, but she was not without concern. “And have you reached any conclusions?”

He smiled and kissed her tenderly. “Only that the idea pleases me. I have never truly permitted myself to consider the possibility in the past, so it is rather new to me, but I find the thought of a child of ours to be an agreeable one.” His tone shifted slightly. “Which is not to say that I am not still worried, but I have been meditating instead on the happiness this could bring.”

His words brought tears to her eyes. “Oh, William,” she whispered, her voice choked.

“What did I say?” he asked in dismay.

She smiled through her tears. “Nothing. I am happy to hear it. And I fear that I am quite foolishly emotional these days, so I advise you to accustom yourself to it.

He gathered her into his arms. “Elizabeth, my dearest love. You may be as emotional as you like, so long as you are mine.”

“Always, my love,” she said tearfully.

He slid his hand along her side, bringing it to rest cupped around her breast, somewhat more generously proportioned than usual owing to her condition. “I have been appreciating, too, some of the changes in you that I had failed to note prior to this.”

With an amused look, she responded, “There are quite a number of them, I must say. And I have been feeling him move for several days now.”

“You think it is a boy, then?”

“I have not the slightest idea,” she said with a laugh. “I must call him something, though!”

“Well, I would prefer a girl,” he said definitely. “A girl with her mother’s eyes.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Not an heir to Pemberley?”

“Next time.” A shadow crossed his face, and she knew that his fears had not left him. “Promise me that you will take the best of care of yourself, Elizabeth.”

“I promise,” she said with an indulgent smile. “You need not worry about that; you have any number of servants who have been watching my every move for weeks, and I have no doubt that they would now not hesitate to report any transgression I should make to you immediately!”

“I hope that you will forgive me if I become somewhat overprotective.”

“I have been anticipating it already,” she said ruefully.

“Perhaps you could consider it a disability of mine.” They smiled into each other’s eyes. “I love you very dearly, Elizabeth.” He kissed her with a gentleness that gradually changed to something very different. By the time he released her, she was feeling pleasantly breathless.

His hands began to caress her body, lingering over her abdomen. “And I have a confession to make,” he continued, in a voice that made her pulses race. “I find that I enjoy the idea of my child inside you far more than I should.” Had she any doubts about the manner of his enjoyment, they were quickly put to rest.

Elizabeth was pleased to discover that Darcy’s warm feelings about the upcoming addition to their family persisted. Fortunately, he did not attempt to disguise his periods of anxiety, allowing himself to be reassured by his wife, as well as enduring on a few occasions lectures from Mrs. Reynolds on the subject. If pressed, Elizabeth would have admitted to feeling somewhat smothered by his attentiveness to her health and needs, but it seemed a small price to pay for his greater comfort.

Some weeks after he learned of her condition, Darcy said, “I have been wondering, my love, if it is approaching the time for us to be seeking a wet-nurse.”

Elizabeth gave him a startled glance. “I had not intended to employ a wet-nurse, in fact. I see no reason why I cannot manage on my own.”

“I do not wish you to have any unnecessary stress, and it seems it would be a way to ease matters for you,” he said persuasively, knowing better than to insist immediately.

“William, this is a perfectly natural event, and it will be no different for me than for any other woman. The stress, as you call it, is no danger to me,” she responded firmly.

Darcy frowned. “Elizabeth, I realize that you think I am being foolish, but if there is anything that can be done to allow you an easier recovery, I would feel much better if we did so.”

“I shall be recovered in a matter of a few days! This is nothing to be concerned over!” Elizabeth looked at her husband in some frustration. She did not want his anxieties to affect their everyday family life, yet wished to be sympathetic to his needs. Finally another tack occurred to her. “William, are you aware that women who do not nurse their own babes tend to increase again much sooner than those who do?”

“That seems an unlikely story, Elizabeth,” he said dubiously.

She rolled her eyes. “If you wish, I will ring for Mrs. Reynolds, and you may ask her as to the truth of it. It is hardly something I would expect a man to be aware of.”

He considered this. “Are you certain of this?”

“William, it is well known among women,” she said firmly.

His expression lightened. “Then by all means, let us not employ a wet-nurse, my love. I am in no hurry to repeat this process!”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow amusedly at the alacrity with which he accepted the idea. “You do not wish this child to have younger brothers and sisters?” she teased.

“Allow me some time to recover from this experience first, I pray you!” he responded playfully, but with obvious meaning.

As her time drew nearer, the signs of stress on her husband grew somewhat greater. Elizabeth, after giving the matter some thought, requested Wilkins to attend her.

“You sent for me, madam?” asked Wilkins from the door of her sitting room.

“Yes, Wilkins; please come in and sit down.” Elizabeth noted the subtle look of surprise on the valet’s face.

“Yes, madam,” he said, and awaited her pleasure.

“Wilkins,” she said, “We have an incipient situation on our hands for which some advance planning would not be inappropriate. May I speak frankly?” He inclined his head in agreement, and she continued, “As you know, we have the expectation of adding the new heir to Pemberley to our family in the very near future, and I anticipate that the occasion of my indisposition will be a very difficult one for my husband. I wanted you to be aware of this, as it is not unlikely that you will be the one who will have to manage the situation when it occurs.” She watched him for his reaction.

“Ah, yes, madam,” said Wilkins carefully. “Mrs. Reynolds and I have already addressed this question.”

Amused that the staff were, as usual, more aware than she anticipated, Elizabeth said, “What conclusions did you and she reach?”

He colored slightly. “We have plans for a variety of contingencies. Should we receive notice of the situation before Mr. Darcy, we have several, umm, prepared emergencies that will require his immediate attention on other parts of the estate. If this is not possible, Mrs. Reynolds and I will remain with him, and should either of us deem it necessary, we will make liberal application of brandy, dosed with laudanum if required. Do these plans meet with your approval, madam?”

“They do. Dare I assume that you have already inducted Lucy into this conspiracy?”

He had the grace to look somewhat embarrassed. “Yes, madam.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Well, I am relieved that I can leave Mr. Darcy to your capable management, then, Wilkins.”

He stood and bowed to her. “I shall do my best, madam.”