Okay, I wrote this like two years ago, tbh it's shit, hahaha. Lots of people seem to like it so if you do, that's cool, even if I don't, hahaha.

In all its vastness and splendour, the estate of Pemberley in the counties of Derbyshire was a spectacle admired by all. With its heavily ornamented structures and beautifully maintained grounds, Mrs Elizabeth Darcy, the recent Miss Elizabeth Bennett, was forever content, pacing the grounds in her daily exercise and endorsing her eager mind in its extensive library. On occasions which her beloved sister in law Georgiana was home, the two girls took much delight in lifting the estate with music; Elizabeth was much keener to practice with such company. While Elizabeth adored her new home, from even the smallest angle, it was the small drawing room towards the front of the house where she found most comfort.

It was a room of many occasions and had seen many distinct moments for Elizabeth. It was the place in which she received her beloved sisters when they were abroad, and the Gardeners on any occasion they happened to return to Longbourn – they were always warmly welcomed by the Darcys. It was the very room in which she had played the pianoforte upon her first visit to Pemberley, for the very man whom she now called her husband. It was also the room where the newlywed lovers had spent much of their first hours together as husband and wife, before departing to their bedchamber. Today, it was bestowed with another wonderful occasion as Mrs Darcy sat comfortably reading the latest word from Jane.

"My beloved sister," Jane wrote, "I can hardly write for the constant need to draw breath, though I am unsure whether it is from excitement or the common fatigue that arouses from my condition. But my dear Lizzy, I bring you the most joyous of news. Darling Charles and myself are to become some of the happiest people on earth. And I pray you will be happy also, when you discover that you are soon to become the aunt of our beloved child."

Elizabeth was in ecstasy. She read through Jane's letter with such haste as she found her eyes swelling with happiness. Jane's hand concluded, informing her sister she would be unfit to travel for quite some time, but would happily receive both Mr and Mrs Darcy whenever suited, for she would not be leaving home any time soon.

"Oh! Where is my husband?" Elizabeth exclaimed, almost leaping from her seat. Mrs Reynolds, hearing her cries, came hurriedly. "If you please, Mrs Darcy," she began, "I believe the master has just rode up from Longbourn."

"Well thank goodness for that," Elizabeth beamed through glistening eyes.

"Is anything the matter, Ma'am?"

"Oh, Mrs Reynolds!" Elizabeth clasped her hands and spun childishly, "everything is grand! I must see my husband!"

Elizabeth bolted through the corridors and down the steps to be met abruptly by her husband. He gently pulled off his riding gloves and held his crop looking flustered but not unhappy as Elizabeth greeted him. "Goodness, Lizzy!" He exclaimed as she ran to meet him, "what on earth has happened?"

"I have just received word from Jane!" She explained hastily, "such wonderful news! Come, make haste!"

Darcy smiled at his wife's spontaneous energy and obliged. Elizabeth sat him down in the parlour and called for tea. Darcy waited and listened to his wife with curiosity.

"I have just received word from Jane," Elizabeth explained. "She tells me I am soon to become an aunt."

Mr Darcy's face lit up, "she and Charles–?"

Elizabeth nodded, her eyes welling up again. She beamed at her husband. "Oh! Such happiness for them both!" She exclaimed. A wide grin spread across her husband's face. "She has such a good temper and he is kind and gentle, as you well know" Lizzy continued. "I know they will make wonderful parents."

Darcy smiled at her words. "I must write to Charles immediately."
"Jane said you should expect a letter in no less than a couple of days."

"I'll write ahead anyway," he added. "I must send my sincerest congratulations."

Darcy smiled kindly at his wife who continued to beam delight. He immediately got up and walked over to the writing desk, pulling parchment from the drawer and began composing an account to his dearest friend.

Elizabeth observed her husband at his task. He wrote hastily though with a steady, elegant hand. She smiled and observed mutual joy reflected in her husband's temper. He truly was happy for both Charles and Jane. He wore a quivering smile in nervous excitement, his lips twitched gently as he wrote. She watched as his brow lowered slightly, she suspected from concentration, however she then observed something else.

There was a subtle unease in his hand as it curved across the parchment. She had wondered if it was in ecstasy, however something told her otherwise. Though smiling, he wore his quizzical brow which commonly reflected unease, or concern. She recalled him wearing it the first night she met him, how different her opinion was of him now. She now understood the meaning of such an expression. It was not one of pride as she initially perceived. He had often masked it with pride under circumstances whence he bore ill confidence. She knew it was pain.

"Love, you are unwell?" She inquired.

He turned around wearing a tender smile, "I am very well, thank you," he told her. "I am thrilled for both your sister, and my dearest friend, and I think we must see them very soon."

Elizabeth smiled in response while privately maintaining her suspicions.

Dinner was brief as the couple hastily discussed arrangements for going to Netherfield. Elizabeth then composed a brief reply to Jane, informing her they would willingly be received at Netherfield late the following week. She placed her pen down and as she sealed her response with care, her thoughts turned back to her husband. Perhaps he was a little indisposed due to matters of business. Surely, he was happy, incandescently happy for Charles. Yet she was sure there was something else.

Clasping her candle, she ascended to their bedchamber, where she found her husband sitting upright, deeply endeavoured in Ann Radcliffe. Proper men never read novels however Lizzy could be quite persuasive and had managed to encourage her husband to read Udolpho for mere entertainment.

She tenderly greeted him, kissing his forehead as he smiled. "It is amusing, as you promised," he remarked.

Lizzy laughed. "A proper man would never admit to finding pleasure in an object as tedious as a novel," she mocked, tenderly.

"No," Darcy agreed, "however the sensible man would find no difficulty in contradicting that."

She smiled as she climbed into bed beside him and admired his action. He was enjoying it; that was obvious. He smirked frequently at the clichés of its content, all the while observing his constant distraction. His mind was elsewhere and she was aroused with mild concern. Finally, closing the book and placing it beside their bed, he turned to his wife with a tender gaze. She took his gentle hand and held it between her palms.

"There is no use hiding from me, Fitzwilliam," she spoke gently but firmly. "Will you kindly relay to me what has been troubling you?"

Her husband sighed but managed a small smile. "I promise you I am well, Lizzy," he told her, "I am thrilled for both Charles and Jane, and I am content with our own happiness." He placed a gentle kiss in her palm. She then placed it on his cheek.

"Please," she said sternly, "speak in earnest. I'll not mock you for any pain or worry you might bear. I am your wife, my ears are open to your words." She stroked his unshaven cheek tenderly. "Seeing you indisposed makes me feel ill at ease myself," she spoke gently, with heart. "Do not feel you need conceal anything. You have my heart, and in it I may share your delights and burdens."

Her husband sighed with much unease. He bore no desire to blame his wife for anything. He knew his behaviour to be foolish and childish, yet part of him thought it a natural desire. None the less, he knew he would have to say something. "Lizzy dear, you are indeed, my wife, as you have said" he told her. "I have offered you my love and you have returned it most willingly. That is all I can ever ask of you." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "While I am happy and satisfied with my present condition, I find myself–" his words caught themselves and he found himself inarticulate.

Elizabeth observed in confusion, but within a few steady moments, had managed to deduct what her husband was unable to voice. "Love, I–"

"Need not worry about such matters just now," Darcy smiled. "All things will come in good time. It is but three months since we married, we need not hasten ourselves. And I daresay your love alone has made me one of the happiest men alive."

"I am sincerely happy also," replied she, "however I must apologise if this is what has been upsetting you."

"I beg you not apologise, for you are not at fault," Darcy replied with haste. "God will bless us when he sees most fitting. I fear I am the one who is too at haste. These three months have been the best of my life and I am most content with my present position. I should be the one to apologise."

Elizabeth shook her head. "It is a natural desire which I share also," she explained. "I too long to see us blessed with our own children, and I am eager to bear them for you – for the both of us."

He placed a tender hand upon hers in response. Kissing her palm again, he spoke gently "we must count our blessings, Lizzy. We are fortunate enough as it is, and soon enough, we will see our own family. There is no hurry."

He was most kind, Elizabeth thought. Too kind. It was, after all, a most natural desire of a married man; that he should want children. Naturally, she was rather eager herself to commence a family with her husband. For some time she had hoped and prayed though was too frequently disappointed. She recalled weeping the last time her monthly cycle finally commenced – for a small while she had been sincerely hopeful. She did, however, so desperately desire to become a mother. Not merely to please her husband; she desired it also for herself. While her kind husband had made it quite clear she was not to blame in the matter, she could not help but feel slightly at fault.

As her husband blew out his candle, she moved close to him and allowed his warmth to sooth her in embrace. He was right, however. She especially had been blessed in their union and was in no position to complain. She was barely one-and-twenty, she was aware of her youth. There was much time ahead to consider such matters.