*NOTE: I have been going back through my fics and I think I have switched from Edward being named a curate at Delaford, to being named a vicar. I think the novel leaves this matter uncertain, but vicar makes more sense since presumably he acquires a living from Colonel Brandon's estate immediately and not conditionally upon someone else's retirement, so vicar he shall be henceforth. (Sorry-American lapsed Catholic here, trying to figure out the intricacies of CofE church hierarchies.) And while I'm at it, I TRY to be consistent with British English spelling, but sometimes my American spell check automatically "fixes" something and I don't notice it. Alas. Not that I'm trying to achieve a perfect match to Austen's language (for there are some things in my fics that Austen would not EVER say), but still-it helps me try to get the voices in my head lined up in a way that makes sense. That sounds like I'm insane. Hmmm…

It was a Saturday evening, less than a week since the Brandons' return to the estate, and Edward Ferrars sat in the tiny but well-appointed study going over his notes for tomorrow morning's sermon. The particular text from Corinthians troubled him in its wording, and he wished he could explain his doubts to a congregation largely unfamiliar with the idiosyncrasies of Greek grammar-but, he thought, the gist of his interpretation was sound.

The life of a vicar-much more complex and intellectually demanding than what he'd originally hoped for, a simple profession that would allow him to be of help to people who were in need. But this life had permitted him to marry his beloved Elinor-against all odds-and to be nearest to the people whom he cared for most in the world. And speaking of Elinor-where was she?

His wife had begged off from tea, complaining of illness, for (he calculated) the third time this week. As he did not remain at home during the day, but walked up and down the country lanes and into the village regularly to tend to the myriad needs of his parishioners while Elinor kept house and looked after William, he realized now that he wasn't sure if she'd taken adequate nutrition this whole week. Glancing one final time at his sermon, he capped the ink and replaced the quill on his desk and made for the chambers he shared with his wife and son.

William he saw immediately upon entering, for his cradle was placed within eyesight of the door that led into the sitting room adjoining the bedchamber. The babe slept healthily, a tiny snore emerging from his pouty lips and catching Edward's breath in his throat. He stole over to the cradle silently, ogling this beautiful child who blended Elinor's lovely features so perfectly with his own, leaving him no doubt that this, here, was his own son, his heir, his hope for the future. He was proof to the world, or at least the little corner of the world he inhabited, that Elinor Dashwood was now his wife-after all the longing and hardship they had endured-and that their love had been made manifest. Edward felt closer to God, felt as if he may just begin to understand the love that God held for his own children, now having one of his own. His reverie was broken up, however, by a sound from the other room.

Following the sound, he pushed the door open to the bedchamber, where Elinor lay on the bed-clearly in discomfort, whimpering quietly so as not to disturb anyone. Immediately he came to sit beside her. "Elinor! Whatever is the matter, my love! You've not eaten-are you ill in truth?"

"Oh, Edward-" Elinor looked at her husband, fear in her eyes. "I fear-I fear that I am ill, yes."

Edward's heart stopped for a beat or two. His voice coming out hollow, he asked, "Will you tell me the source of your affliction, my dear?"

"I'm-Edward, I think-I believe that I am with child again."

And just as suddenly as it had stopped, his heart began to beat with a wildness against his ribs. After a moment, smiling tentatively, he reached out for her hand. "Oh, my love-this-this is wonderful!"

Elinor took a shaky breath. "I am not certain-I wanted to wait another week to see if- but it seems I cannot avoid the truth any longer."

Edward's heart, buoyed by the news of a second child to come, sank a little at Elinor's tone. "Are you not-has this made you unhappy, my love?"

She smiled wanly. "I am happy-of course. Nothing could make me happier than to give you another child, and for William to have a playmate-it's only that-well, it's so soon."

Edward cringed inwardly. The doctor, in examining baby William immediately after his birth, had advised the Ferrars couple on the appropriate amount of time to wait before having relations once again so that Elinor could properly heal-and Edward admitted to himself that he had been counting the days, and gave her no leeway. Not that she had been an unwilling participant when he'd had her at last after so many weeks of frustrated lust-in truth, she had initiated things-but still, he ought to have exerted more self-control. The fact that he'd been assured by the doctor that nursing the new babe ought to have a limiting impact on her fertility was immaterial-it was a chance he'd still taken, and now would have to live with Elinor's disappointment as a result.

"I'm sorry-we ought to have taken measures-Elinor, please forgive me."

"No, no-Edward-that is, I am not unhappy about this. A child so close to William in age will be a blessing. Just think of how they will play and grow together. It's only that I am just now getting used to motherhood, and to think that soon I will have to double my efforts-and-and also, I think...I was not quite so ill the last time, was I?"

Edward shook his head. "Is this why you have not eaten? Elinor, you must conserve your strength, and eat more, not less, if the baby is to be healthy, mustn't you?"

With dry humour she asserted, "Don't think I haven't tried. The eating itself isn't the problem. It's just that I can't seem to hold anything down once it's been eaten."

"Anything?"

"A little tea, perhaps, and some broth-but otherwise, it's been difficult."

"For how long has this...this sickness taken hold of you?"

"Three weeks or so."

"Elinor-you could have told me."

"I wanted to be sure. I didn't want you worrying over me. You've got enough to contend with."

It was true-between the sermons and the odd wedding or christening, organising the Easter fete which was fast approaching, visiting the sick and elderly of the parish, keeping up with the Colonel and his needs and desires for how his parish ought to run (though his demands were few and his taste immaculate), and his latest project, as yet a secret from all but the Colonel himself, the building and eventual staffing of a girls' school to compliment the boys' school in the village, Edward was exhausted each night when he came home. He gave as much love and attention to his wife and son as he could muster, but there was no doubt he had never slept more soundly in his life, his energy completely depleted at the end of each day. But still-if anything should happen to his wife while he was too preoccupied to notice-would he ever forgive himself? Would any of those other matters, trifling by comparison, even register with him any longer?

"Elinor-you must promise to tell me, always, if there is something important on your mind that concerns us. I will always make time for our family. This family is the center of my whole world here." He stretched out to lay next to her, holding her in his arms, her golden hair glinting in the late-evening remnants of sunlight. He stroked her back and side and placed a kiss on the top of her head, feeling the reality sink in that once again, nestled within the sweet core of her body, grew a child that she had made with him. Kissing her lips chastely, he vowed silently to see her through this. He must.

After cradling her to him for some time, he got up and fetched their servant, Mrs. Collier. There must be something in this house that she could eat. If they had to turn the whole larder inside out to find it, they would do so.