She could hear the pitter patter of small feet breaking her consciousness before she heard the soft call of "mama" as her fourteen month old son made his wobbly way to their bedchambers, nursemaid in tow. Bennet George Darcy was heartbreakingly charming and had stolen the hearts of the whole of Pemberley. His mother and father, awoken by his morning routine, shared a brief smile before finding their bedclothes and greeting him enthusiastically at the threshold.
Elizabeth Darcy waddled in a manner not dissimilar to the infant, heavy as she was with their second child, and began to converse small nothings with little George. His countenance shone with pleasure at the attention his mother was bestowing upon him.
"Goodness," she breathed, "you are getting to be a big strong boy aren't you." Her husband, who had been watching his family with a gentle fondness, rescued his wife and took his son into his rather stronger arms. Tickling the infant, Mr Darcy gestured for his wife to take her toilette whilst he attended their son. George chuckled his delight at his Papa's silliness and squirmed away from his long fingers.
He relished these small familiar interludes before he had to become a shutaway in his office for the day, or worse still, the longer interludes when he had to be away from Pemberley. George altered considerably in the weeks that he spent away managing their estates and it was insupportable being from both his ancestral home and his darling wife and son.
It was a matter of no small consternation that he had to leave them both, in the dead of winter no less, to go to his cousin in her time of need.
Lady Catherine de Bourgh was gravely ill and Anne had written to him express in order to request her cousins' presence. Richard was serving in Salamanca and Darcy couldn't in good conscience leave Anne to the mercy of her mother and Mr Collins. He was not a monster. Though it pained him to leave his family at such a time, he knew that it was the correct thing to do. It was what his mother would have wanted.
He had noticed Elizabeth's momentary crestfallen look when he told her of his impending departure, but apart from the initial disappointment, she had managed admirably to put on a brave facade. She had encouraged his departure, attempting as ever to restore the familial harmony that his aunt had so callously destroyed when she condemned his choice of bride so openly and viciously. Nervous as she was about the prospect of birthing their second child in the near future, she pitied poor Anne's predicament and knew that her husband needed to depart. She, at least, had their darling George.
He had arranged for Georgiana to arrive at Pemberley for the Christmas season early, to coincide with his leaving, so that his wife would be well looked after in his absence. He regretted that he could not also make the most of this time with Georgiana, for she had been so long in Town for the masters, but resolved that he would at least be back for Christmas to finally relax with them all, and the newest addition to his family. His mien softened to consider his future happiness, and then clouded when he considered the trials he had to undertake before returning to such felicity.
He sighed and returned his attention to his son, who was still babbling happily in his father's arms.
All too soon, he was holding his family in a crushing embrace on the steps of Pemberley, dreading the next two weeks of comparable solitude.
"Farewell, my love," Elizabeth breathed as he placed a lingering kiss on her hairline. "Would that I could accompany you. If only my ever-expanding middle had begun to grow two months earlier," she chuckled, "or if only your aunt had been more considerate with her timing." Her eyes were sparkling with mirth and Mr Darcy drunk it all in, trying to remember every detail of her darling face. He pressed a hand to his waistcoat pocket where next to his father's pocket watch sat a miniature that he had commissioned of his wife shortly after they wed for occasions such as these.
"It is indeed my fault for not being more expedient in settling your condition, darling Lizzy," he smiled at her, "and therefore I must suffer the consequences of my tardiness. My most sincere apologies m'aam."
"Your apology will be accepted upon one condition, sir," she retorted in a haughty tone.
"Oh?" He muttered, inhaling her lavender scent.
"Return to me with utmost haste and with the exact same amount of Fitzwilliam Darcy that you left with." He heard her worry underneath the jest and squeezed her waist in acknowledgement.
"On my word," he replied.
George took that quiet, tender moment to reassert his presence, and his father bent down to caress his son in one hand and the unborn babe in the other.
"Farewell my loves," he sighed.
An air of melancholy seemed to settle upon his countenance as he turned from her. Squaring his shoulders, he climbed into the carriage and settled into the plush velvet seat for the long journey to Rosings Park. As the frosty miles began to pass behind him, his trepidation rose. He resented being away from his wife and returned to his reserved nature in preparation for his dealings with his aunt. They had not spoken since he had supposedly spurned his uninterested cousin and he was more anxious about seeing her than he cared to admit.
Elizabeth Darcy cradled Bennet George and hummed a soft tune under her breath, desperately trying to remain rational and calm, and praying that the babe's timing would be more careful than theirs. As if sensing her sadness and worry, George snuggled further into her arms. His solid weight brought his mother from her reverie and, with a kiss on his forehead, she returned inside.