Author's Note:

Hi, guys! I bring another short chapter today! As you'll see, I've started skipping months. Whenever I do, I'll let you know at the beginning of the chapter (or section), the month and year.

For future reference, in this story, Elizabeth and Darcy met in October 1811, married in December 1812, and Bennet was born in September 1813.

As always, thanks for your comments! They keep me writing!

Stay safe!

Jen


What Fitzwilliam would always remember about this holiday at Budleigh house was that it was the first time he heard his son laugh as Elizabeth was shaking his rattle in front of him, his arms reaching out to try to take it from his mother. They both froze in place as they heard the sweetest sound in the world and watched their child's big, toothless smile.

Soon, the four families headed back to their respective homes to let the new parents become used to their son.


49.

July, 1814

Fitzwilliam found very quickly that the answer to 'how much can a child grow in a week' was 'a great deal.' The first half of the new year brought so many changes that his son seemed to learn something new each week. He had been surprised when at four months he rolled over from his tummy to his back and even more so a few months later when he started turning his head when he heard his name. Fitzwilliam was extremely delighted, however, when Ben started making sounds as if he was imitating speech—the tones varying as if he was asking questions or telling stories that made no sense.

He relished the moments when it was only the three of them in bed before they went to sleep. He realised that Bennet found skin to skin contact just as soothing as he found heartbeats. And so the most calming experience of his life was when he lied on his back in bed shirtless with his sleeping son lying on his chest, feeling his father's heart underneath his cheek. He wondered how so many fathers could hold their children at arm's length and not adore them completely.

Bennet's sixth month of life had been a difficult time. His teething had him crying half the day away and both new parents were desperate to ease their babe's pain. Massages, cold washcloth and fruits relieved the pain briefly but he was soon crying at the top of his lungs again. Elizabeth could not have been more grateful to be living with her parents-in-law than she was then when their support and assurance that everything was normal was constantly required. And the reward was the most adorable white little tooth in the lower front of Ben's mouth, which only made his smiles look more charming. He did, however, seem to enjoy the cooked vegetables and soft fruit he was now allowed to eat, even though he was still nursing. If he preferred the sweetest fruits over anything else, it was attributed to his mother's own inclination for everything sweet.

However, now that Bennet was ten months old, Fitzwilliam lived in constant panic as he saw his seemingly fearless son crawl and lunge forward with no consideration to his surroundings. Since he had dominated the art of crawling, he had now begun to stand while holding onto the furniture, which was not all reliable or stable enough to support him. Since he was never left alone, Fitzwilliam had—quite wrongly—assumed that they could keep an eye on him constantly, but he had soon learnt that babes could sense the second you turned around. Even more dangerous was his tendency to drop and bang objects.

Therefore, he found he had to be constantly alert and saying things like:

"Mrs. Reynolds, before you bring tea, could you remove that crystal fruit bowl from the parlour? Bennet can reach the coffee table now and it is only a matter of time before he tries to hold it."

"Yes, sir," the housekeeper replied and took the aforementioned bowl from the parlour.

"We must take better care now that he is crawling so much," Lady Anne commented.

Bennet followed the housekeeper with his eyes as if he had been planning to do exactly what his father had feared.

"Oh, you curious little darling," Elizabeth laughed at her son's disappointed expression. "Come here, Bennet."

Bennet looked up from where he was sitting on the floor to his mother and, instead of crawling back to her, he held onto the coffee table and stood up on his short, chubby legs.

"Mamamamam," he babbled, for he could now say "Mama" and "Papa" variations indistinctly of who he was talking to.

Fitzwilliam almost jumped from his seat, filled with fright, when Bennet let go of the coffee table and took a step forward. He heard Georgiana gasp and could see, in the corner of his eye, that his own father was about to stand as well when his mother put a hand on his arm and whispered 'no.'

No! What did she mean 'no'? His son was about to fall down! He might hit his head against the coffee table! Against every fatherly instinct, he remained sitting, every muscle in his body tense and ready to pick his son up.

Bennet hesitated when he felt his family's fear, but he took another step, followed by another. His wobbly legs struggled to balance his body as he walked a few more steps quite clumsily before his legs gave out. Before Fitzwilliam could catch him, Bennet's fall was prevented by Elizabeth as she held him just in time.

"Oh, my darling! You are such a smart boy!" Elizabeth congratulated him. "Is he not wonderful, Fitzwilliam?"

"He gave me the fright of my life," he sighed as he calmed down and looked at his son's big grin. "But he seems extremely proud of himself. I have seen that impertinent smile on someone else before," he said, smiling at his wife.

"I do not understand your meaning, sir," Elizabeth replied in mock seriousness.

"Well, I am glad he inherited his mother's boldness and not his father's over-cautious nature," Georgiana teased his brother.

Lady Anne laughed and turned to her grandson. "That was quite daring, my dear."

Bennet fussed, clearly expressing his wish to be let down on the floor again where he proceeded to repeat his performance. The following days were a repetition of Bennet's newly acquired ability. He took a few clumsy steps on shaky legs, struggling for balance before he fell—for he did indeed fall many times, most of them on his bottom—before he stood up again as if nothing had happened and, not discouraged by his fall, tried again. Fitzwilliam could not help but feel frightened each time and he thought he could almost feel it each time Ben fell.

The worst part was feeling that this constant fear was only the beginning of many years of prolonged concern and apprehension.


I do not own any Pride and Prejudice properties, nor do I make any money from the writing of this story.

Characters and situations, created by Jane Austen, are taken from Pride and Prejudice and from the Pride and Prejudice (1995) adaptation created by Simon Langton and distributed by BBC.

This story is released under the GPL/CC BY: verbatim copying and distribution of this entire work are permitted worldwide, without royalty, in any medium, provided attribution is preserved.