Gentle reader,

Would you believe me if I told you that it was not my intention that the children's names rhyme? A happy accident in what will finally be a happy family, I suppose. Please continue to rate, review, and comment (and please note, if interested, I have another story for another fandom but of a similar theme).

Thank you, as always, for your support and fellowship.

Love,

RobinDesBois

Darcy had always been known for having a controlled, predictable life. Never making a move without precedent, never doing anything to reveal any weakness, never straying from the bounds of social norms.

Until the day he married Elizabeth Bennet, his life had never changed. She brought laughter and sunshine back into his home, and though never crossing the lines of social contracts, always pushing it a little at a time.

Then his children were born. They were provided with their father and aunt's crib, but it was immediately realized that a second would need to be commissioned; they would fit singularly for several years, but together they would outgrow it in months. The finest carpenter in Lambton was immediately given the commission to replicate the family crib. In addition to this, Lizzy and Georgiana had been stitching and knitting and embroidering for months on end-but only with one child in mind. Every maid in the house capable of wielding a needle was immediately reassigned to the needs of the young master and mistress. For the final nail in the coffin of his dignity, Lizzy had commanded the removal of the cribs from the adjoining nursery into their own room, meaning he was up attempting to assist his wife with her maternal obligations several times each night.

For Fitzwilliam Darcy, the worst part of the changes wrought on his life came in the form of his wife. Refusing to allow the wet-nurse her duties unless absolutely necessary, Lizzy was constantly exposing him to the temptation to carry her from the room and put another child in her as quickly-and as passionately-as he could.

Before the Meryton assembly, this assault on the custom comfort of his life would have bothered the stalwart Mr. Darcy of Pemberley. But the first time he woke to see his wife feeding his children, he knew there was nothing he would not due to ensure that this became his new normal routine.

Just a few weeks after they were born, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy experienced what they would both privately consider one of the proudest days of their lives. The small but beautiful church of Mr. Rev. John Bolton in Lambton village welcomed to the world the Darcy twins, baptizing and officially naming them Guinevere Anne and Bennet Arthur. The staff, of course, had already learned the names of their new charges, and had silently and unanimously decided that little Miss Gwen and young Master Ben would want for nothing.

The slow but steady loss of their staff to their children did not go unnoticed by Darcy and Lizzy, but they were secretly relieved; they had not found any supplemental staff for poor Mrs. Turner, whom Lizzy had grudgingly approved. The little Miss and young Master were not permitted to so much as hiccup without at least a maid or a footman running in to see to their needs; a cry would bring the staff of entire floor.

Two months later, the staffing problem remained unresolved, but Lizzy Darcy had bigger problems. She had (almost, but no one need know that part) recovered her health. She was walking as far as ever, though if pressed she would admit that she was resting a little longer after. She felt her body had changed, but not so much that she felt unattractive. Her desire for her husband had remained as steady as the man himself, but her body had finally acquiesced to the wishes of the heart and mind.

But just how, Lizzy wondered, shall I seduce him?