The man on the galloping stallion seemed to glide across the hills. The tall, dark man rode as if one with the black horse, seamless and smooth. Darcy was returning from a long day of riding over the estate. It was the middle of September and the harvest was beginning. He was tired after all the riding, but it had been necessary to plan the harvest. He was tired, too, from worrying over his wife. When they had returned from Scotland nearly two months ago, Elizabeth had promised to leave Pemberley at the first sign of pregnancy. She had waffled a bit, once home, but a visit to the local midwife convinced her. Her mind still went back and forth and he knew her struggle. He had resumed marital relations, more out of desperation for his wife than of any thought of procreation, somewhat reluctantly. Therefore to keep himself from fretting and worrying, he had begun to keep a calender of his wife's monthly cycle. According to it, she was two weeks late. He spurred the horse and hurried home. He must have a discussion with his wife.

Back in the great house, Elizabeth sat in the parlor with Georgiana and MacDuff, awaiting the arrival of Darcy and the call to dinner. The clock chimed the hour, and, startled, Elizabeth rose from her chair. "Is that the time? And Fitzwilliam is not returned. I must see if Cook can delay dinner. Please excuse me," and she glided out of the room.

At her departure, Georgiana leaned closer to her husband. "Are you certain, Angus?"

"I believe so, Georgie, love. I've been monitoring her closely since your return from Scotland. During her examination three days ago, she denied a start to her cycle. Today, it is two weeks."

"Perhaps, we should begin to plan our return to London. If we leave, she may be more easily convinced to accompany us."

"Good, idea, love," MacDuff replied, kissing her forehead. "We are getting no where with researching past records here. Since all of the losses occurred here, we must assume there is something at Pemberley and get her away for the duration."

"There is another reason as well."

"What?"

"I'm actually quite surprised you do not know, Angus, and a little jealous. You've been more observant of your sister than your own wife! If there is something at Pemberley that disrupts pregnancy, I should leave too, as soon as possible."

"Georgiana?" MacDuff, sat back, astounded. "Are you, too?"

"I believe so, my love. I am four weeks late."

MacDuff turned on the sofa and gathered his little wife in his arms. "Oh, my love!" he sighed as he began to kiss her cheeks, her forehead, her neck.

"Angus, stop. We are in a public room!" Georgiana blushed.

MacDuff sat back and admonished her, "Then you should not have told me such private news in such a public place." And he kissed her lips, deeply.

Elizabeth returned to the doorway and paused as she watched MacDuff tenderly kiss his wife. She smiled at the sight and ran her hands down her sides to her stomach. "I must tell Fitzwilliam tonight," she thought.

D&ED&ED&ED&ED&E

Darcy stood looking at the fire, holding a half-drunk glass of brandy in his hand. He hated confronting Elizabeth, even when he knew he was right. It ruffled her, being told what to do. He truly wanted their marriage to be a partnership, for them to be equals, at least in the privacy of their own home. Having to call her out, force her to admit to her pregnancy and then banish her (at least in her mind) to London did seem dictatorial. However, he could not lose her. He sighed and drained the glass. He turned from the fire and slowly went upstairs.

Elizabeth sat in front of the mirror in her dressing room and brushed out her hair. After witnessing Georgiana and MacDuff's tender kiss in the parlor and hearing of their desire to return to London, she had almost spoken of her own news. But, she knew Fitzwilliam would never tolerate such a private thing spoken of, especially in front of his sister. She was excited to tell him. She was happy, although she felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of leaving Pemberley.

She put down her brush and stood up, blowing out the candles on the table. She took up one taper and went into the bedroom. Darcy was not there. She crossed the room and entered the sitting room that divided the master's and mistress' bedchambers and entered the cold room. There was a light under his dressing room door. She idly thought of the wasted space this extra bedroom was as she stood in the dark waiting for him to emerge. Perhaps some remodeling was in order.

Darcy was startled by his wife waiting in the cold and the dark when he opened his dressing room door. "Lizzie!"

"Oh," she cried as he shook her from her reverie. "Fitzwilliam, there you are. I must speak to you."

"And, I you, my love, but let us go to your chamber where it is warmer." He laid his arm around her waist and guided her back to the light and the warmth. He could feel her softness under his forearm and he tightened his hand on her waist. His near-constant desire for her would not aid him during this sure-to-be most difficult discussion.

Darcy led Elizabeth to a chair close to the fire and took her taper from her hand. He set it on a table and then turned to her. Her eyes shone in the firelight as she reached out to take his hand. He knelt beside her, holding her hands in his and took a deep breath. This was going to be more difficult than he had thought.

"Elizabeth," he started just as she breathed, "Oh, Fitzwilliam!"

They both smiled. "I am sorry," Elizabeth said. "You go first."

"All right," Darcy said. Squeezing her hands gently between his own, he said quietly, "I know, and I wish you would have told me."

"Know what, Fitzwilliam?"

"I've been keeping track, Lizzie, since our return from Scotland. And you are correct, your schedule is very precise. So, I know."

"Keeping track? My schedule? What are you talking about, Fitzwilliam?"

"You are with child, Elizabeth."

"You know! Oh, you know." Elizabeth stood up abruptly and walked to a window, looking out into the night. She put one hand over her eyes and slightly shook her head.

"I'm sorry if I cause you distress, Lizzie, but I do know and I am saddened that you did not tell me at once, as you promised you would."

Elizabeth put her other hand over her mouth and shook a little more.

"I know you do not want to leave Pemberley," he said, walking towards her. "But you and I and Dr. MacDuff all agreed that even though no true reason was found, it would be better for you to spend your confinement away from home. And that time should begin as soon as there was any suspicion."

Elizabeth's shoulders began to shake and as Darcy reached her, he placed his hands on them gently.

"Please do not be upset with me, darling. I only want what is best for you. And how fortuitous is it that MacDuff plans to return to London? You can all go together." He slid his hands down her sides and held her close to his chest. His hands cradled her still flat abdomen. "I only want what is best for you and our child." He nuzzled in her hair at her shoulder as she remained silent and continued to shake. "What is it Lizzie, please?"

Elizabeth finally brought her hands down from her face and turned to face her husband. There were tears shining in her eyes, but her face reflected only joy. She laughed aloud but for a moment and then brought her hands up to cup his face. "Oh, my love. We have been at cross purposes. I came looking for you tonight to tell you my news and you circumvented me! And it is fortuitous that the MacDuffs wish to return to London. I wish to hie there immediately, or to Jane. Fitzwilliam!" she exclaimed as he lifted her and spun her about the room.

He stopped and kissed her soundly before setting her on her feet. "I dreaded this conversation. I worried that you would see me as forcing you to go against your will and all the time you have been excited to tell me." She nodded. "Oh, Lizzie!" and he kissed her again, this time softer and more passionate. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and returned his kiss with vigor.

After a moment, he pulled away and tried to set her apart from him, but she clung tighter and kissed him again. After another moment, he whispered, "My love, we must plan. There is much to coordinate."

"Tomorrow, Fitzwilliam, tomorrow," and she pressed closer still and kissed him yet again.