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"You know what's interesting?" said Jocelyn from her position on the couch. "Austen never talks about the children and how they came to be about."
They were revisiting Austen, four years after their first endeavour.
"They're always fully grown children, ready formed," continued Jocelyn. "Or not worthy of mention at all."
"Mm," agreed Bernadette.
"I mean, imagine Mrs Bennett," said Allegra. "She would have spent eight years in confinement popping out those girls."
"Allegra," admonished Sylvia.
"Spare a thought for Mr Bennet in that," added Grigg smoothly, entering the room and taking a seat next to his wife.
Spontaneous laughter erupted.
Even the heavily pregnant and utterly emotional Prudie cracked a smile.
Later that night, Jocelyn yawned as she wrapped her form around that of her husband. "I couldn't imagine going through childbirth in Austen times."
"Mm," agreed Grigg sleepily, running his fingers through his wife's hair.
They had a slightly different opinion mere hours later.
"I've changed my mind," groaned Jocelyn as she paced the hall, the whimpering Abigail in her arms. "I want the nanny and the whole-separate-floors works."
"What?" asked the distracted Gregg, baby Emery wriggling in his arms and otherwise whining.
Jocelyn never had a chance to elaborate as another cry was heard: Georgia was joining in on her sisters' distress.
Grigg now with their two youngest children awkwardly in his arms, Jocelyn moved smoothly to settle their eldest.
Several hours later and they knew the reason for it all: chicken pox had arrived.
Two days later an exhausted Jocelyn flopped back against Grigg. He barely summoned the energy to press a kiss to her head, on the verge of sleeping.
"Do you know?" yawned Jocelyn. "Disease and medicine in Austen times would be a good topic for book club next month."
Finito.