While some universally acknowledged truths are quite easy to fulfill given a proper bend of knee and ring, it is sometimes not enough to satisfy any mother freely willing to admit to wanting more. Upon occasion, it is most true that the most sought thing after marriage and money is that oft-desired asset of grandchildren.

Some families fulfilled this with ease as was the case of the Darcys, who gave birth to a healthy baby boy named William in the icy month of December, though truly, it was Elizabeth who did most of the work, as she relayed to Mrs. Bennet in a post the week after the delivery.

The letter to Jane had been full of joy and delight at the news:

Dearest Jane,

I have given birth to a healthy boy and Mama would be quite proud as he does already content himself in crying and keeping me up at all hours. It is a lucky thing, then, that I adore him more than I could adore anyone (save for my dear husband, Papa, and yourself, rest assured) and that I would gladly listen to the music of his screams for hours upon end.

His name is William and I would be most honoured if you would be his godmother. I do think that Darcy will ask Bingley to serve as godfather, so you see, not only will the child be loved unconditionally, but the arrangement will serve as quite convenient. We shall expect a visit of you soon, but do not rush on our account. I would be hard-pressed to entertain, given my current exhaustion and forcing Darcy into social situations is a cruelty that even he does not deserve (as he has done nothing in recent days to deserve it).

Yours,

Lizzy

Though Jane and Bingley were dearly happy for their relatives, the matter of children had been a constant topic of discussion between them that did not cease, not t'wixt visits to Pemberly, nor moving from Netherfield, and the discussion only increased when tasked with visiting Longbourn.

Even a year to the date of young William's birth, the topic of children did arise with some frequency and now, Jane's tone took on worry with every passing conversation.

She lay in Bingley's arms, content to let the quiet of the night pass them by. They had only thirty minutes past redressed in their nightclothes (he had been ensorcelled by her appearance in the candlelight and could wait no longer to undress her and make love) and now lay awake, listening to the crackling of the single candle beside the bed.

It was Jane that spoke first, and with the familiar worry that had begun to inhabit her voice as of late. "I am sure it is my fault," she murmured gravely. "I cannot give you an heir, Charles, I…"

"Jane!" Bingley remarked with some alarm, his eyes wide with worry all his own. His red hair was quite a mess and he had the beginnings of a shadow upon his cheeks as the hours of twilight were upon them. "Darling, please, do not speak this way. It is said that this is the husband's own fault, and I am sure that is mine."

Such discussions were common between them, in which blame was portioned and appointed to themselves and then redistributed when the other claimed that the original confessor could hardly be at fault.

"My own father," Bingley continued, brushing his thumb in soft circles at Jane's hip, wrinkling the soft fabric of her slip, "had trouble conceiving with my mother and now look! There are three of us and we are all quite healthy," he assured, ever optimistic.

Jane sighed and rested her cheek upon Bingley's shoulder, resting close to him and his warmth, along with the warmth of the words he offered. He stroked her hair with softness and great love, pressing a kiss there upon her temple.

"You must not worry, Jane," Bingley said, with only a note of fear in his knowing tone. "We shall soon have many children to our name and we shall look back upon this and think nothing of it, truly."

Silence passed between them as Jane occupied herself with the study of running her fingers up and down the strip of skin between his trousers and bedshirt and he ran his hands through her hair.

"Lizzy is still arriving tomorrow with Darcy and William," Jane murmured sleepily, her eyes already half-shut with the weariness of the evening. "I do hope he will be able to aid with your finances."

"It is a trifle of a worry," Bingley assured, his own tone befitting that of exhaustion. "Merely enough to investigate and hardly enough to harm our situation." He wrapped his arms about her waist and pulled her closer still. "Jane, with all this worry, we shall commit ourselves to gray hairs and early deaths, I fear, and I cannot bear to part with you. We simply will have to find some way to solve all our problems."

Jane smiled up at Bingley, more than a touch besotted and quite clearly believing that her husband could indeed move the moon. "You'll find a way."

Bingley, however, laid awake far longer than Jane did, holding his wife and filled with the worry that he would not and would doom her to perpetual worry and strife.

Jane and Bingley were both present to greet Darcy, Elizabeth, and the little one upon the drizzling and damp February day, shielded by the large covering above the porch. The carriage bringing the Darcy's was quite on time and Jane was more than slightly delighted to see her sister and her godson (and of course, her brother-in-law, though she could never muster the same amount of pure delight as she had reserved for her nephew).

"There are rooms prepared," Jane assured Elizabeth as she helped to lead them inside. Darcy and Bingley had already absconded to the study to discuss numbers and figures (such tedious gentleman's topics). She turned to the manour's housekeeper, a Mrs. Brown who was from the North and always helped Jane with her dressing, and smiled with a demure nod. "Mrs. Brown has offered her assistance with William."

Elizabeth gave Jane quite a grateful smile. "Jane, honestly, while I hardly want to disillusion you to the nature of children, they are quite the handful. Thank you for the help," she said, words never filled before with such gracious thanks.

She and Mrs. Brown were off, heading towards the second floor and the prepared guest rooms and in the privacy of the hallway, Jane stopped and allowed herself a moment to exhale shakily and collect herself.

William was a beautiful boy, taking after his mother's curious nature and inheriting both her colouring and facial structure. He bore the hair of Mr. Darcy, however, and had sternness to his face that Jane hoped would melt with age, lest he be bullied as a child for being too severe and serious. He was so thoughtful and curious of the world which caused an ache inside Jane to see a boy so earnestly wonderful and thought that Lizzy could truly have had only the most perfect of children; William was going to be a fine boy, could not be anything less for his parentage.

"Mrs. Bingley, are you all right?"

The voice startled her out of her thoughts, but when Jane realized that it was only Mr. Townsend, the house's main butler who had served the Bingley family for thirty years – having been hired by Bingley's father thirty years ago. He was a loyal and kind man, who had been hired straight out of his teens and had quite the distinctive and calming voice. He had taken it as a personal quest, it seemed, to calm Jane when her nerves threatened to get the best of her.

Even now, he had a cup of tea upon a tray.

"Mr. Townsend," she greeted, affixing a polite and small smile upon her face to reassure him. "I am merely nervous."

"Is it Mrs. Darcy?" he asked, his voice as smooth as the sherry that Bingley often enjoyed in his study sometimes, before Jane would visit him from her rides on their land. "Her room is quite ready, I promise." A smile lit up his face – which was a crooked smile and did make Jane smile herself but for the lovely imperfection that made him so unique. He had a lovely head of hair that was blond and graying at the temples and was a tall man. Her husband had spoken of a grievance between his father and Mr. Townsend, but Jane could not see it possible for Mr. Townsend to ever do something to Bingley Senior to cause a disagreement and so she attributed it to misunderstanding.

"No," Jane assured, quite fervently. "Of all things, my sister's visit is truly the best of possible occurrences."

Mr. Townsend smiled sympathetically, something flashing past his eyes.

"Is it the lack of children?"

His familiarity went uncommented upon as Jane did not mind such personal discussion with so trusted a servant. Jane's non-answer gave a perfectly thorough answer to that question and she looked away, saddened and heavy with a grief she could not name. The disappointment overrode anything else and she nodded.

"My dear," Mr. Townsend murmured, extending the cup of tea towards her. "You must not worry over such things. You are a young woman and there is plenty of time yet." He smiled reassuringly. "Spend some time with your sister and I am sure before the day is out, you shall feel all the better."

His advice was well placed and Jane departed with sincere thanks for the tea, but she was not thirsty quite yet and placed it back on the tray, earning a promise to be served again soon.

She resolved to think negatively no more on that day and to catch up with Lizzy on all the latest news of Pemberly and Derbyshire.

Darcy had been pacing up and down the length of the study with a ledger in his hands and he made the most distressing disapproving noises that Bingley had ever heard. They were enough to give him nerves to rival Mrs. Bennet's. "Darcy, you cannot do such things to me!" Bingley protested. "Honestly, man, you'll have me unfit!"

He turned, glancing up, his taciturn demeanor not ever departing as he set the finances back upon the desk (which appeared quite unused).

He merely resumed his study of the books, sending Bingley into a fit of frustration, slumping over into the office chair, all bound with red leather. "And there he goes," Bingley narrated idly, gesturing into the air. "Fitzwilliam Darcy, off he goes with his disapproving noises," he continued, mimicking and mocking each grunt and thoughtful 'hmm', "and withholding the truth from his very best of friends. Honestly, one would think Wickham had left you a plea for money in my books!"

Without raising his gaze, Darcy replied in turn, "I see Mrs. Wickham's letters have reached your door as well?"

"Yes, but that is not the topic at hand," Bingley dismissed it immediately. "What is wrong with the figures of the house?"

Darcy set the ledger down and regarded Bingley with a sympathetic look, sighing. "I did fathom it would happen, but I'd hoped it would be later and not sooner." His visage took on a wry smirk. "Bingley, your assets are being stolen by one of your servants."

Bingley's face went ashen and he stared at Darcy, yanking the figures towards him, studying them as though he had the slightest idea what they meant and as though he did not pay an accountant a great deal of money per annum to tell him what to do. "That's not possible!"

"Not only is it possible, it's probable and it's happening," Darcy informed him. "You see these figures here?" He gestured to a specific line. "This was petty cash and items you had lying about the house. You've had no visitors in the past month as Caroline is in London and Louisa is busy with Mr. Hurst, and I do not think Jane capable of carrying such a large sum away from you. Therefore…"

"It is one of the servants," Bingley realized, staring down at the desk in horror. "Darcy, I must fire the perpetrator," he said, but it was phrased as a question.

"Unless you wish to set a precedent that stealing from your wealth is perfectly acceptable."

"No! Hardly not!" Bingley said firmly. "No, this cannot be. I will deal with it immediately." He faltered, glancing up at Darcy. "As soon as you help me ferret out the thief?"

"But of course," Darcy agreed easily. "I could hardly let you do it alone. You'd likely let the man or woman off with a gentle scolding."

Bingley had the good grace to smile at that, almost ashamed. Truly, he thought that his staff could do no harm by him, especially since so many of them had served his father before serving Bingley himself and his father had been so adept at choosing those who would remain loyal to the Bingley name.

Bingley closed the books firmly. "Jane need not know about this," he said. "She has enough to worry of, and this will only damper her spirit."

"Let Elizabeth tend to her spirit," Darcy assured, taking a seat opposite Bingley and easing back into his chair as comfortable as a king in a throne. "She and William can no doubt put a smile upon even the darkest of faces."

Bingley could hardly pass up an opportunity so perfect and chortled in almost immature amusement. "Even yours?"

Darcy did not see fit to supply a reply to such a thing and Bingley was content to laugh at his own joke as he tucked away the business and moved on to far more pleasurable topics of conversations; their wives.

Jane settled herself within Elizabeth's room, setting a blanket on her sister's lap to keep her warm when she remarked that there was a mild draft and worried for William's sake. Jane smiled demurely and did not remark on the resemblance between Elizabeth and their mother when it came to worrying. Some things were not meant to be said; merely thought.

"…and just the other day," Elizabeth was saying proudly, bouncing William on her knee, "He tried to speak Darcy's name, but it came out as something rather incoherent."

"Oh!" Jane remarked, eyes bright. "But it was close?"

"Quite," Elizabeth agreed. "Soon he shall either be babbling his father's name or that of a stranger. We shall soon know. For the sake of my dear husband's ego, I hope for the latter," she said, with a smile upon her lips. Jane gave Lizzy a stern look but it melted quite quickly when little William gave a plaintive cry and Elizabeth was there in a moment, soothing him. "I am half-ready to tell Darcy that his first word was not his name at all, but rather, 'Jane'."

"Oh, do not implicate me," Jane said in swift reply, though there was a joyous light in her eyes and a teasing note in her voice. "I would hate to be upon the receiving end of a stern letter."

"Which he would no doubt pen with such extraneous information that you would only find out about his grievance upon page three," Elizabeth replied, with an air of haughty knowing, and yet, deep love. "I never thought I might meet a man who wrote as many letters as you and I."

"Is that so?" Jane teased gently.

"And hardly did I think I would fall so recklessly in love with him," Elizabeth agreed ruefully.

"The most terrible kind of falling in love!" Jane said, delightedly. "Oh! Lizzy, it is so good to see you so happy," she observed with a small sigh. "It is all I ever hoped for."

Elizabeth beamed, letting out emotions that Jane mostly kept to herself. "I admit, I'm quite ecstatic to see myself so happy." Sobering up, she reached over and took Jane's hand with her free one that was not occupied in holding William. "The same happiness will find you too, Jane, I promise," she swore.

"And I am sure of it," Jane agreed, rising slowly to her feet and leaning over to place a kiss to William's head. "I hope you won't mind if I take tea while you prepare for bed?"

"I would not fault you for a second," Elizabeth promised, balancing William upon her hip. "We'll simply visit his father."

Jane watched her sister and nephew depart with a look of fondness in her eyes and she sighed, rising to her feet. Perhaps Mr. Townsend would have that cup of tea still ready for her in the kitchen.

Elizabeth entered the study to find her husband and brother-in-law deep in their cups of port. "Gentlemen," she greeted, walking in after she was announced. "I've brought more male company for you to further corrupt with your ideals and principles of business."

Darcy rose to his feet to greet Elizabeth with a deep kiss upon the lips that had Bingley looking aside to give them a moment of privacy. "I assure you," Darcy said, his tone serious, "that William will only learn his accounting from me and not his absentminded uncle who has no head for numbers."

Elizabeth peered past Darcy. "Bingley, do you really think that true?"

"Oh, not only is it true, but I am also poor with history," Bingley agreed swiftly. "I have no concept of time but the time before me."

Elizabeth smiled widely at that and pressed a finger to Darcy's chest. "Perhaps you should focus more upon the present and not the past, as Bingley does." She sat down gently. "Jane is taking tea before she resigns for bed." Bingley nodded, clearly grateful for the information, but Elizabeth did not linger on the subject, peering at the wide array of books on the table. "And what have you men discovered about the Bingley affairs?"

"It is quite simple," Darcy replied. "Their generosity and kindness has finally caught up to them. There is a thief in the home."

"A thief!" Elizabeth reacted with shock. "After your goodwill and Jane's charity? Some people are truly too ungrateful," she said, almost snidely. "Have you discovered the criminal yet?"

Darcy glanced to Bingley and Bingley glanced back, but neither man spoke up until Elizabeth prodded them onwards and William let out a cry, as though to agree with his mother.

"It's obviously someone who has both access to the bedrooms and the kitchen, where they could be hiding the money," Darcy informed his wife. "We've narrowed it down to the waitstaff; the butlers, the maids. I was just about to suggest we go to the kitchen and discover any possible hiding places for coin."

"Quite smart," Elizabeth praised, rising to her feet. "Are we idling for any purpose besides cooling your heels?" she asked, quite perfectly in dominance of the conversation and aware of it.

Bingley nearly jumped to his feet. "I'll join you soon," he said, offering a brief smile. "I think that first, I must check on Jane." Elizabeth and Darcy exchanged a look, but said nothing. It was clear as the sun during the day that the Bingley household was experiencing a time of stress. He offered another brief smile as he hurried out and left the Darcy family to their own wiles.

Elizabeth wandered to the door and nodded, indicating that they should still pursue their lead. "Do you think the stress too much?" she asked of her husband, voice quiet to prevent any eager ears from eavesdropping. "Do you think it harmful?"

"I think Jane and Charles stronger than we give them credit for," Darcy said, a hand upon the small of Elizabeth's back. "And their troubles with conceiving are merely temporary. No doubt nature shall right everything in due time."

They walked in thoughtful silence the rest of the journey towards the kitchen, but when Darcy pushed into the room, Elizabeth was meanwhile distracted with a loud shout coming from the upstairs bedroom.

And the profanity her husband let loose from within the kitchen was hardly encouraging. Elizabeth wandered inside to see a teacup shattered on the ground and a knife lying upon the table, as though misplaced.

And from upstairs, Bingley was rushing down, pushing into the kitchen with a look of wild panic in his eyes, a piece of paper crumpled in his hand.

"Charles," Darcy snapped, immediate and almost cold (Elizabeth knew it was only done to get Bingley's attention). "Bingley, what's the matter, what is the manner of this mess?"

Bingley only stared at the teacup, his face pale and his gaze spooked. "Jane's gone," he said, voice hollow and distant. "She's gone."

tbc