Chapter 2

Elizabeth Darcy had desired a large summer house party, and she had brought it about, along with a ball, and a wedding, and as much as she had gained enjoyment from having all of these things, she now experienced equal enjoyment that these events were complete. The last of the guests – her own family, the Bennets – had departed two days ago for Longbourn, and now she could stroll Pemberley's gardens in the knowledge that her demands as hostess were significantly lessened.

Of course, there were still Pemberley's more permanent guests – Jane and Charles Bingley, and now their daughter, little Elizabeth Bingley, who, for a child with such amiable parents, did a remarkable amount of screaming. Such crying must have been loudest for the child's nurse, in Pemberley's freshly scrubbed and painted nursery, but could be heard through much of the house. Elizabeth found herself taking refuge in the garden frequently, and hoping that her own child would be more quiet. Not that this would be entirely helpful, as the Bingleys would be staying at Pemberley for some time, while they built a new house at nearby Clareborne Manor, and so long as little Elizabeth remained, the house was likely to be much less peaceful than usual.

Elizabeth smiled; she could not help but think tenderly of her own namesake, although she thought her husband, who looked rather disturbed by the sounds emanating from the nursery, was not quite so sentimental. They both suspected it of having driven the newly married Stantons from Pemberley sooner than expected, although it could not be denied that the opportunity to spend a honeymoon in Paris, and with more privacy than could be had, even in a house so large as Pemberley, held independent appeal.

Jane's birth, at least, had been as quick and painless as such a thing could be; Dr. Alderman had hardly arrived before it was time, and Elizabeth hoped this bade well for her own birth, as Jane's sister. Jane had been certain through her entire pregnancy that she was carrying a girl, and seemed quite content upon learning she was correct. Mrs. Bennet had been unexpectedly helpful and calm, in the time leading up to the birth, although this perhaps should not have been so unexpected, she having borne five daughters of her own. Upon learning the sex of the child, however, she had reverted to her usual self, pronouncing: "Well, I suppose we should not take it as a surprise. I only hope you do not have four more."

Charles, thankfully, upon being admitted to see his wife and daughter, had seemed ready to faint regardless of the sex, but had held himself upright as a look of happiness several times that of his usual happy countenance overtook him, and said she was an angel, and he had no doubt she should grow up to be as pretty as her mother. She might still grow up to be as pretty as her mother, but no one could call the child an angel at her present age, and the Darcys continued to receive profuse apologies from the Bingleys as to the disruption of their peace. They assured the couple they were still welcome; Elizabeth made frequent use of the gardens and the most distant sitting rooms of the house, and Darcy occupied himself with riding the estate grounds, or shooting, which the other gentleman of the neighbourhood were always quite enthusiastic about joining him in, often including Charles, although the latter generally went out with a guilty expression on his face.

"And how do you find the gardens today, Mrs. Darcy?" asked her husband, entering on one of the paths that led from the kennels, and still dressed in his sporting clothes.

"I find them very peaceful," she said, winking at him.

"At least no one need accuse that child of not having a healthy pair of lungs," he said, drily, settling in to walk beside her.

"Jane already wishes her to learn the pianoforte. Perhaps she shall have to engage a singing master, as well. We may well have the next opera diva here, under our roof."

"Indeed. Should we be quite certain there is nothing wrong with the child?"

Elizabeth took up his arm. "Dr. Alderman says she is perfectly healthy, and my mother claims we all were rather vocal, in our infancy."

"So you mean to tell me we will soon have two babies, making such noise?"

"You will feel differently, when it is our own child. Surely you must remember when Georgiana was born – did she not cry?"

"You are likely right, about it being our own child. But I do not remember Georgiana being loud, like this. I expect she was shy, even as a baby."

Elizabeth could not help but notice he sounded a little wistful, at the mention of his sister, to whom he had been more like a father to, than a brother, for so many years. Darcy had quite happily embraced Matthew as a brother – Elizabeth still struggled to call him that, for they had known him as Captain Stanton before, and he should by rights have at least been Sir Matthew, having earned a baronetcy, but he insisted on plain Matthew, for those that were now his family.

Yet Elizabeth could not forget the shocked expression on Darcy's face, when the Stantons had spoken of their invitation to Paris over dinner, and said they would be going. By Darcy's countenance, it had been clear he still expected to be asked permission, and he had realised quite suddenly that permission was no longer his to give.

"Georgiana and Matthew have arrived safely, and I expect we will have another letter from her soon," Elizabeth said, soothingly.

"I know," he said. "I just cannot help but think of all the other times, when we thought there was peace with France, and war broke out, and there were many of our countrymen trapped there."

"They are there with the official delegation, Darcy. You know that there are ships waiting to carry them off if such a thing happens. Failing those, I expect he would steal a boat and sail it across the channel himself, if that were required to get Georgiana to safety."

Darcy did not respond, but Elizabeth knew that he was aware she was right; in consenting to her marriage, Darcy could not have given Georgiana over to anyone more concerned for her wellbeing, nor so capable for seeing to it. And she could not help but smile; she was quite certain by his behaviour toward his sister, for whom he had been a guardian, that he would be a wonderful father.

They walked on for some time, enjoying the very many pleasures that a well-tended garden in early September could bring, before Elizabeth found herself overcome by the strangest sensation.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, halting and clutching her belly.

"Is something the matter, with the baby?" Darcy asked her, immediately concerned.

"No, it is very strange, like a little tickling inside," Elizabeth said, overcome by a feeling of the deepest happiness. "I believe it is the baby quickening."

Her pronouncement caused some confusion of actions by her husband; he made as though he was going to embrace her, seemed to think better of it, and finally gave her a very deep kiss, through which she could sense that he was every bit as happy about the event as she. Elizabeth had seen an accoucher in town, and he had warned her that the quickening might come later, in her pregnancy, this being her first child. This warning had soothed her, as had the continued thickening of her belly, but it was still a relief to have it happen; nay, something beyond relief, she realised, for there was a certain wonderment in this feeling of life, stirring inside her.

"I do not think the baby will mind, if you embrace me," Elizabeth said, for she could not resist teasing her husband.

"I did not want to make it stop. Has it stopped?"

"No, not yet. I wish I knew better how to describe it to you."

"I would imagine it to be rather indescribable," he said. "Still, I am glad I was here when you experienced it. The look on your face as you realised it was quite beautiful."

"I cannot say the look on yours was so. Will you ever cease worrying?"

"I believe I will, when the child comes of age."

Elizabeth chuckled and took up his arm again, and as they walked on, she thought that they could not possibly be happier than they were now, but then realised that they very likely would be, in just a few months.