Chapter 1

It was the Darcys first trip back to Hertfordshire since their wedding nearly four months before. Elizabeth's husband would have been willing to forego the visit, but as it was on the way to Pemberley, and they needed to return Elizabeth's sister Mary to Longbourn anyway (she had been staying with them in London for the last month), he grudgingly admitted that the visit would have to be made, but only on condition that they stay with their Bingley relatives at Netherfield. They exited their coach on reaching Longbourn, to the enthusiastic exclamations of Mrs. Bennet.

"Oh Lizzy, I am so relieved you've come at last! My poor nerves - I feared your carriage had broken down and you were stranded along the road! And Mary, look at you! You look quite fashionable, I should say almost pretty! Did you meet any beaus while you were in town? Mr. Darcy, it is such a pleasure to see you again, and your lovely sister. Come inside, Miss Darcy, and warm yourself!"

After being relieved of their coats, Georgiana was immediately dragged upstairs to be shown Mary's favorite sheet music, and to view Kitty in the new gown that Elizabeth had bought her. Everyone else was hustled into the front parlor by Mrs. Bennet, who barely took time to breath before launching into the latest family news.

"You know that your sister Lydia is expecting a child, don't you Lizzy?"

"Yes, Jane mentioned that in her last letter."

"In September - our first grandchild! Although I'm sure it's not to be our last," she said, winking at Mr. Darcy, who immediately went to look out the window to hide the fact that he was turning red; Elizabeth wasn't sure if it was from embarrassment or mortification.

"Well, with a little one on the way, I'm sure dear Mr. Wickham could do with a promotion," said Mrs. Bennet, looking expectantly at her son-in-law's back, which was getting tenser by the moment.

"Mr. Darcy has every intention of helping our brother in his profession, Mamá," Elizabeth answered for her husband. "But Colonel Fitzwilliam has assured us that Mr. Wickham must establish himself in his current rank before a promotion would even be considered. And you must remember, he has not been at his new post very long."

"Oh bother what Colonel Fitzwilliam says, they should make exceptions for gentlemen with young families. When I think of poor Lydia so far in the North, with no family about her and in her delicate condition, my nerves start to flutter..."

"My dear," interrupted Mr. Bennet, "why don't you ask Hill what's keeping our tea?"

"Oh heavens, I'd forgotten, excuse me, Mr. Darcy, I'll just go see what's keeping Hill." Mrs. Bennet scurried from the room calling for her ever-dependable Hill. Mr. Bennet took the opportunity to go to his favorite daughter and kiss her tenderly on the forehead.

"It's good to have you home, Lizzy, and to see your mother acting like herself again."

"Hasn't Mamá been acting like herself, Father?" Elizabeth asked with no little concern.

"Well, prior to your visit she hadn't mentioned her nerves in weeks, I was starting to worry. She has also been falling asleep over her needlework in the evenings."

"Jane did write that Mamá seemed quite tired lately. What has Mamá had to say about it?"

"Only that there is nothing wrong with her, that it was her time of life and slowing down was to be expected." Mr. Bennet lowered his voice, "She said her sister Philips when through the same thing last year."

"She may be right, but Aunt Philips is nearly five years older, Mamá is only forty-four and a bit young to be going through, you know..." Elizabeth blushed, it wasn't a subject one usually talked about with one's father. "Anyway, it wouldn't hurt to have the doctor look at her."

"That's what I thought. He's out of town for a day or two, but I left word for him to come by when he returns. Of course, your mother won't be too pleased to see him; she doesn't have as much faith in him as she once did. He doesn't take her nerves nearly as seriously as she does." Elizabeth smiled; no one took Mamá's nerves as seriously as she did.

"Mr. Darcy," said Mr. Bennet, addressing his son-in-law, still at the window, "while the ladies take their tea, would you care for something stronger in my library?'

"Thank you sir," replied Mr. Darcy, turning to join Mr. Bennet, "I would like that very much."

The doctor arrived to look at Mrs. Bennet the day after the Darcys departed for Pemberley. As her husband foretold, there was much fussing and clucking on Mrs. Bennet's part before she would submit to an examination. Afterward, the doctor peeked his head into the library.

"Well, it's not her nerves this time, Mr. Bennet, but it's nothing your wife has not suffered through before. She will explain it to you. I'll stop by tomorrow to see that everything is alright, not that she will need me, but you might." The doctor chuckled as he let himself out.

He's acting rather peculiar, thought Mr. Bennet as he made his way to his wife's room. He found Mrs. Bennet sitting on the bed, staring blankly in front of her, her mouth hanging open.

"My dear," Mr. Bennet said sitting down beside her, "The doctor said you are suffering from an old ailment, can you tell me what he was speaking of?"

She turned her head to him, made as if she was trying to speak, then settled for grabbing one of his hands with both of hers and placed it on her lap.

"Is it laryngitis then, Mrs. Bennet?" he asked.

She shook her head, then placed her husband's hand against her stomach.

"Come now dear, anyone else might think you are trying to tell me that you are with child," Mr. Bennet laughed, until he saw his wife nodding at him. He looked at his hand, then back to his wife's face. His mouth slowly dropped open.

"Oh, Mr. Bennet!" she finally whispered, "What are we to do?"

At the sound of her voice, he shook off the shock, gently took his wife in his arms and said, "What are we to do, my dear? It is not like we are new to this. We will do as we have always done and welcome another Bennet into the world."

"Thomas, I'm frightened. It has been 14 years, and after the last time..."

The use of his given name gave Mr. Bennet pause; they rarely used them between themselves anymore, only at the most intimate of moments, and one of those had gotten them into this situation to begin with. She did have due cause to be frightened - they both did, but he couldn't let her know that. The process of bringing a new life into the world was a dangerous time for both mother and child; more than one of his neighbors had lost a wife to childbirth. And though it wasn't part of normal after dinner conversation among gentlemen, it was common knowledge that most families had suffered the loss of a child or two prior to birth. He had counted himself lucky that they had only suffered one such loss, when Lydia was about two years old.

"Did the doctor give you cause to worry?" he asked. She shook her head.

"Well then Fanny, we will assume that everything shall progress as smoothly as it did with the five girls and you will present me with another... when?"

"October."

"Fine, in the fall then."

"But at my age, what will people think? And then if something were to happen..."

"What do we care what people think?" He felt his wife tense in his arms and decided she had a point - she should not have to worry about gossip in her condition, at least not yet. "Would you feel better if no one else were to know about this for a while, maybe until you were more confident about the child's health?"

She nodded. "Perhaps until I felt movement? I hadn't been that far along last time."

"We agree then. If you carry this child as you have our others, you won't be showing too much in the next month or two. We shall keep it to ourselves - and Mrs. Hill - she may be helpful to have in your confidence and we can count on her discretion, as well as the doctor's - I will send a note around to him directly. In the meantime, we will tell the girls that you are suffering from fatigue, which we expect you will recover from in due time." They sat in silence for a while; Mr. Bennet eventually felt his wife relax a bit.

"Mr. Bennet, perhaps it will be a son..."

"Now Mrs. Bennet, do not be getting your hopes up. We have had excellent luck producing daughters, I see no reason to change now. Besides, if you were to set your expectations on a boy, only to have a girl, what kind of welcome would you give her with a disappointed mother? No, we shall plan for a girl."

"But it is possible..."

"I will hear nothing more about it. We shall expect a girl," he said firmly.

"Very well - although I don't know what I can do about it now. But if we must have another girl, I hope she is as beautiful as Jane."

"She will be, and as clever as Lizzy, as accomplished as Mary, as skillful as Kitty, and..."

"...and as happy and carefree as Lydia!" Mrs. Bennet finished, to the reprimanding eyes of her husband.

"Well, maybe not quite so carefree as Lydia, but happy all the same."

"Yes, indeed, Mrs. Bennet" he said, giving his wife a squeeze, "and so shall we all, so shall we all."

Chapter 3

Elizabeth sat at her desk at Pemberley, puzzling over some letters that she had recently received. Her father had written to her within two weeks of their return to Derbyshire, much sooner than she would have expected, given her father's nature. He briefly mentioned in the letter that the doctor had been by to see Mrs. Bennet and that she was merely suffering from a bout of fatigue, which they expected her to recover from in due time. A letter from her mother made no mention of the ailment at all, which considering her mother's preoccupation with her nerves, seemed strange indeed. She wrote mainly of neighborhood gossip and visits the officers had paid to Longbourn. The letter was shorter than usual, and tended to wander from one subject to the next more abruptly than her usual style, but Elizabeth just attributed that to her mother's illness, if one would call it that. Jane wrote, among other things, that their mother seemed to be improving since seeing the doctor; although she still seemed tired, understandable given her fatigue, she was much happier than Jane had seen her in some weeks. That letter, more than those of her parents, was reassuring, and Elizabeth would have put any apprehension that she had concerning her mother's health to rest - if it wasn't for Mary's letter.

Mary wrote that although she saw no significant difference in their mother's daily activities, other than retiring earlier than was her norm, their father's behavior towards their mother had changed dramatically. She wrote:

It is rather Father's consideration of Mamá that has me concerned. He continues to tease her, but only good naturedly, never to vex her, as was always his pleasure. If she walks with us to town, he will send the carriage to Aunt Philips within the hour to wait on Mamá, so she will not have to walk home again. He accompanies her on daily walks in the garden, which I can never in my life recall him doing with her before. I would applaud our Father's efforts of kindness toward our mother and think no more about it, but for the extra care that Hill has also shown to her recently. She is always within easy call - indeed Mamá has not had to raise her voice for her in over a week - as you can imagine, the house is considerably quieter now. As conscientious and doting as Hill has always been, I suspect she is extending much more care to our mother than I should think a diagnosis of mere fatigue would warrant.

It frightens me, Lizzy, to think what could cause such a significant change on our father's part. I begin to think there is more to Mamá's illness than Mamá, Father, or Hill are willing to say. And I hesitate to bring the subject up with either of our parents in the event that my fears are justified, as doing so might cause them further pain. I am not alone in my suspicions as Kitty shares my concerns.

Mary's news alarmed Elizabeth not a little. Their mother seemed well by all accounts, yet Hill and their father treated her with unusual consideration. It puzzled her so much that she asked her husband's opinion when he joined her later that day. Mr. Darcy read the offered letters, mulled them over for some minutes, then offered a possible explanation.

"It could be that your father is being extra cautious with your mother now that she has a real complaint - perhaps to compensate for what he may see as a lack of concern on his part in the past. I remember you said he took more care with your younger sisters for a time after Lydia's marriage."

"Yes, he did - for a while, and it sounds typical of Father, but Mary seems quite convinced that there is more to this fatigue of Mamá's than meets the eye - that it may be something more serious which our parents do not choose to share with us. That would hardly account for the improvement in Mamá's spirits that Jane mentioned, though."

"Unless..." started Mr. Darcy, but he thought better of what he had intended to say, kept silent and fought the urge to wander to the window.

"Unless what, Fitzwilliam?" Elizabeth pressed.

"Unless it is something that your father is aware of that your mother is not," he said reluctantly, knowing the suggestion would add to his wife's worries.

"You mean the doctor could have told my father that something was wrong, without telling my mother? But then why wouldn't my father tell her?"

"Given your mother's nerves, he may have thought it would be best if she did not know - so she would not be upset."

"He is her husband. You would never keep such information from me!" It was not quite a question, but Mr. Darcy could tell by her expression that his wife was expecting an answer. He went to her, kissed her forehead, then drew her to him in a gentle embrace.

"No, I do not believe I could keep anything from you, dearest, even if I wanted to. You would know something was wrong at a glance, even if I tried to conceal it from you. But I am not your father, nor are you your mother."

Elizabeth pondered his words for a moment, then murmurred, "Poor Mamá. She could be..." the words stuck in her throat, "...and not even know..." Mr. Darcy, feeling her shake in his arms, tried to reassure his wife.

"I'm sorry I've upset you. Elizabeth, I think we are getting ahead of ourselves - we have no way at the moment of knowing what the truth is, and it is unwise to assume the worst when a simpler explanation is the more likely and less upsetting. I suggest you write to your father of your concerns; from what I know of him, he would confide in you above anyone, and it will put your mind at ease."

"And if something is seriously wrong with Mamá?"

"Then we will consult with the best doctors in London."

"Thank you, Fitzwilliam," she sniffed. "Have I told you how much I love you lately?"

"Not nearly enough, my sweet."

Chapter 4

Mr. and Mrs. Bennet sat on a bench at the far end of their garden, enjoying the view. The apple blossoms in the nearby orchard were nearing their peek, and sound of bees busy at work was in the air. After a time, Mr. Bennet spoke.

"How are you feeling today, my dear?"

"Very well, Mr. Bennet. I do believe I felt the child move last night."

"You felt her kick?" he asked in amazement - he hadn't expected this news for some weeks yet.

Mrs. Bennet smiled at his feminine reference. "Heavens no - it is still much too soon to feel a kick. I merely felt a flutter, but I'm sure it was the baby."

"A flutter, madam?" he asked suspiciously. "Are you sure it was not your nerves?"

"No sir, my nerves have been quite content lately, thanks I'm sure, to all your kind attention."

"It is no more than your due, Fanny. I am the cause of your present condition after all."

"I do not think you were alone at the time, Thomas."

"No. As I recall I had some rather pleasant company with me," he said, patting his wife's hand. She blushed prettily at his remark, reminding him of the girl that he had married twenty five years ago - had it really been that long? He would still catch a glimpse of that girl from time to time - but those times had become less and less frequent over the years as the visits by her nerves came more and more frequently.

"So, Mrs. Bennet, are you ready to make our little secret known to the girls, or would you like some more time to get accustom to the idea?"

"No, I am ready. We may tell Jane, Mary, and Kitty when you wish, Mr. Bennet. I suppose we will have to write to Lizzy and Lydia, but oh, how I should love to tell them in person!"

"Would you like to tell them all at once at Pemberley?"

"Don't be silly, Mr. Bennet! It is six weeks until we go to Pemberley. If we wait so long to tell the girls we will not have to tell them at all - as they will be able to see the truth quite plainly for themselves! You can not expect my gowns to keep everything hidden forever!"

"Not forever, my dear, only one more week. I thought we could leave for Pemberley a bit earlier than we planned, perhaps begin our journey in four or five days."

"But the Darcys are not expecting us for six weeks yet!"

"That is of no matter. When Mr. Darcy took my Lizzy away he told me we would always be welcome at Pemberley. I can think of no better time to make him good to his word. Besides, Lizzy sent me a letter last week - or was it the week before? - expressing concern for your health and offering us the services of the best doctors in London. Apparently she is under the impression that you are suffering from something worse than fatigue and she is very worried about you."

"Our dear Lizzy always did jump to conclusions. Remember how she had us all thinking how disagreeable Mr. Darcy was, when all the time he was better than a saint? Of course, I knew he was a good man all along."

"Of course you did, my dear," he patted her hand again indulgently.

"Oh, but Lizzy was very clever in securing his affections without any of us being the wiser. Good heavens, Mr. Bennet! If we are to leave in but a few days time we must start packing! HILL!" Mrs. Bennet moved to get up but her husband held her back.

"No, my dear, you have had quite enough excitement for one day, the packing will keep until tomorrow."

"But if we are to leave in four days, we have no time to lose! There is so much to do..."

"I must insist on this, Mrs. Bennet," his voice becoming firmer, "You are not to pack so much as a handkerchief until tomorrow. Why don't you go inside and write a note to Lizzy telling her of our change in plans, and I will send it express when I return."

"Return? Return from where?"

"I need to go to Netherfield and inform the Bingleys that we are leaving early. Besides, I need to speak to Mr. Bingley on another matter of some import."

"Well off with you then! I shall write to Lizzy. Goodness, so much to think about - I shall go quite distracted!"

Chapter 5

The Bingleys arrived at Pemberley the day after the Darcys received the express - the one warning of the Bennets' imminent invasion. The Bennets themselves arrived two days later, but by then Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy had departed for Newcastle. At first Elizabeth keenly felt the loss of her husband, as did Jane, but as their mother's enthusiasm for everything she saw at Pemberley tended to be on the loud side, Elizabeth thought perhaps it was for the best that her husband was elsewhere. She hoped by the time he returned in a day or two that her mother's appreciation would have subsided to a more reasonable level. Without him close at hand, Elizabeth had only her parents to be anxious about.

Elizabeth was happy to note that her mother looked well, although she appeared to have put on weight; but that to Elizabeth seemed a good sign. As for her father, aside from teasing her mother less and her sisters more than she remembered, he seemed quite himself. But when her two parents were together, (which was often as Mr. Bennet had taken to reading in the drawing-room where the ladies sat rather than in the library) then Elizabeth saw some of the changes that Mary had told of in her letter - and more.

They exchanged looks. Not tender looks of endearment that Elizabeth and her husband continually did, but it seemed to her that they exchanged whole conversations, some of which Elizabeth could interpret, most of which she could not. Mr. Bennet would send a look of enquiry Mrs. Bennet's way, as if asking after her health, and she would return him a reassuring smile. Mrs. Bennet would look to him before doing anything more strenuous than a stroll in the garden, and he would return a nod of approbation or decline. To witness this of a man who had all his life left his wife unchecked to do as she pleased was to Elizabeth mystifying indeed. What was more amazing was that her mother did not seem to be bowing to her father in submission, but rather to be humoring him - her mother was actually humoring her father! The strangest exchanges were those that seemed to make no sense at all. Mrs. Bennet could be in the middle of a conversation with her daughters, then she would pause for a moment as if waiting for something, look at Mr. Bennet, who would raise a questioning eye to her. She would smile at him, he would smile back at her, and then they each would continue on with whatever they were doing as if nothing had happened. Something was definitely going on that only the two of them was privy to, and whatever it was, it was extremely vexing to Elizabeth.

Mr. Darcy fumed quietly in his coach, listening to Bingley's incessant snoring. He should be home - with his dearest, loveliest Elizabeth and his beloved sister - just the three of them - by themselves - enjoying a few more weeks of the beautiful Derbyshire springtime - alone - Bennetless. (Elizabeth didn't count, of course, she was a Darcy now.) But somehow, and Mr. Darcy wasn't quite sure how it had happened, his father-in-law had contrived to have him traveling to Newcastle and back with Bingley to bring Mrs. Wickham down to Pemberley. It didn't matter that Mr. Darcy had offered to accompany Bingley - he had a sneaking suspicion that Mr. Bennet was still behind it.

Well, at least he hadn't had to see that much of Wickham at Newcastle, although Bingley had, much to his regret. Mr. Bingley had spent some time in the pub with Wickham while Darcy looked in on some friends of his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam, and apparently Wickham had revealed a little too much of his true nature for Bingley's comfort.

"Is something wrong, Bingley?" Mr. Darcy asked his friend while Mrs. Wickham was bidding farewell to her husband. "You seem upset."

"To tell you the truth, Darcy, I am." Bingley cast a black look at Wickham, who was whispering in his wife's ear and causing her to giggle loudly. "He doesn't love her! Oh, he said he was fond of her, even found her intriguing at times, but he laughed at the suggestion that he loved her."

"Why are you so astonished, Bingley? You know the circumstances behind their marriage."

"Yes, but she's having his baby, for pity sake - and yet he had the temerity to ogle the barmaid, right in front of me!"

"Any reason to think he will do more than... ogle?"

"No, he joked about - how did he put it? - his temptations - but said if he acted on any of them you would find out about it and tell your cousin Fitzwilliam, who would have him transferred to the hottest front he could find within a fortnight. Is that true, Darcy?"

"No," he said with a smile, "but it does no harm for Wickham to think so."

"You mean you don't have spies watching him, as he seems to think?"

"Let's just say Fitzwilliam has a lot of friends who take an active interest in our dear brother Wickham's activities." Then Darcy looked thoughtfully from Wickham to Lydia. "I'm surprised he admitted that he found Mrs. Wickham intriguing."

"Well, he had had a few by then, but you really shouldn't be surprised by it. She is a Bennet after all."

"Yes," Darcy laughed, "if there is one thing I should have learned by now it is never underestimate a Bennet."

Mr. Bennet called his daughters to order in one of Pemberley's large drawing-rooms. He stood behind his wife, who was seated comfortably in a chair, flanked by Jane and Elizabeth on a couch to his left, both their husbands standing directly behind them, having just returned from Newcastle that very afternoon. Mary, Kitty, and Lydia were seated on a couch to their parent's right.

"Many of you," said Mr. Bennet, in his best public speaking voice, "have expressed concerns about your mother's health. Well, the time has come to let you in on a little secret that we have been keeping. As some of you have suspected, your mother is not suffering from fatigue as we told you, but something more serious." Darcy squeezed his wife's shoulder in support as Elizabeth and Jane exchanged worried glances and clasped each other's hands. Mr. Bennet paused, building just the right amount of suspense; he was enjoying this immensely. "But as we told you, your mother's condition will pass in due time." He paused again, looking down at his wife and taking her hand before continuing. "We are, in fact, expecting another child, due to arrive in October."

Disbelief covered the elder sisters' faces, while shock was evident in Mary and Kitty's. They all stared at Mr. and Mrs. Bennet for a moment; the silence in the room was deafening, until - quite unexpectedly - Lydia began to laugh.

"What a joke!" she exclaimed. Gasps came from both Mary and Jane, Lydia was completely oblivious to the disapproving looks she was being given, and Mr. Bennet looked downright offended.

She rose and ran to her mother with a hug. "Don't you see, Mamá? My baby will be as old or older than its new aunt or uncle! What fun - our babies will be like sisters," she paused to consider, "or brothers, or brother and sister. We shall have so much fun playing with them together!"

Seeing his youngest daughter meant no harm, Mr. Bennet smiled at her and said, "I'm glad you find it so amusing, Lydia, what about the rest of you?"

Jane and Elizabeth looked at each other, each hoping the other would think of something appropriate to say; they were having trouble conceiving how such a thing could have happened to their parents. Their husbands, who knew all too well how such a conception took place, but did not relish the thought, merely cringed inwardly, then stepped forward together to offer congratulations to their father-in-law.

Mary came up next, eyed her father suspiciously, then kneeling by her mother asked, "Mamá, are you sure it's quite safe?"

"What do you mean, Mary - 'Are you sure it's quite safe?'" repeated Mrs. Bennet in annoyance, "You got here safely, didn't you?" Mr. Bennet patted his wife's shoulder to calm her.

"We understand your concern, Mary," he said, "But if the good Lord has seen fit to bless us with another child, we will just have to trust that He will also see your mother and your new sister safely through this."

"Sister?" asked Elizabeth in surprise, "You know it's a girl?"

"No," replied her mother, "Your father insists it is to be a girl - he will hear of nothing else." Elizabeth glanced at her father and stifled a laugh; somehow it seemed like one of the rare things her father would take in his mind to insist upon.

"But Papa, if it is a boy," said Kitty, "then the house won't be entailed away."

"Which is exactly why I refuse to consider anything other than a girl," said Mr. Bennet emphatically. "This child and the entailment are two separate issues. I will not have the weight of the family's future riding on such a tiny person. We have already accepted that Mr. Collins will inherit Longbourn; there is no point in changing those expectations when that hope could be in vain."

"You see," said Mrs. Bennet resignedly, "He is quite determined."

"I am indeed," he replied. With that, the remaining sisters gave hugs and congratulations to their parents. Kitty, who was excited by the thought of having a baby in the house, ran off to tell Georgiana and returned with her a few moments later so she could offer her congratulations. Names were suggested to both expectant mothers, the favorites being Cassandra and Jennifer, although Mr. Bennet, with a wink to Elizabeth, suggested Olive. Boys names were brought up for Lydia's consideration, Colin being the frontrunner.

Later that evening Elizabeth approached Mr. Bennet.

"I'm very happy for you, Father. It is obvious that Mamá is more than content with her lot, but how are you doing?"

"I have to admit, Lizzy, that I share the same concerns voiced by Mary. And the thought of starting fatherhood all over again is daunting; I feel rather like Abraham to your mother's Sarah, but for the most part, I am coping tolerably well."

"I'm sure all will be well with Mamá, she's a strong woman," she said with a reassuring smile. Her father nodded in agreement. "May I ask, when do you plan on telling the rest of our friends your news?"

"I will leave that up to your mother, with the exception of Mr. Collins - I can not resist the pleasure of soliciting his congratulations on my own impending olive branch."

"I'm surprised at you, Father, after what you said!"

"Come now, Lizzy, you wouldn't spoil all my fun? I've cut back considerably on teasing your mother, a man must have some sport."

"Just let me know when you plan on writing him so that I may send a word of warning to Charlotte; she may have to be on hand with spirits to revive the poor man."

"I can only hope, Lizzy, and regret that I won't be there to see it myself."

Lizzy just smiled at her father and shook her head. Apparently he hadn't changed that much after all.

Chapter 7

What an evening! At the first opportunity after the Bennet's announcement, Mr. Darcy invited Mr. Bennet and Mr. Bingley into his study for some brandy. His real motive was to get away from the overenthusiastic women in the drawing-room - Mr. Darcy no longer had any doubt that they were all Mrs. Bennet's daughters - even his Georgiana was beginning to sound like them!

"May I propose a toast, Darcy?" said Mr. Bingley, raising his glass, "to our good in-laws and their blessed event." Mr. Darcy also raised his glass to Mr. Bennet, who acknowledged them both with a nod.

"Thank you, gentlemen, although I had always thought that I would be the one toasting you." They chuckled, then when the silence began to feel awkward, Mr. Bennet continued. "I must thank you both again - I appreciate you going all that way to bring your silly sister-in-law down to us. I know Mrs. Bennet was very happy to see Lydia again, and to have her share in our news."

"Think nothing of it, Mr. Bennet," Mr. Darcy bowed, "It was our pleasure."

"Yes," agreed Mr. Bingley, giving Darcy a nervous glance, "a pleasure, no trouble at all."

Mrs. Bennet and Lydia stayed downstairs talking long after everyone else had gone up to their rooms, with the exception of Mr. Bennet, who had decided to take the opportunity to browse Mr. Darcy's library while waiting for his wife.

"My Wickham sends his regrets that he could not be here for you, Mamá, but you know, he could not be spared from his duties."

"Yes, Lydia, I understand the life of an officer is not his own. I am sure we will see your dear Mr. Wickham again, by and by."

"And I do so want our babies to meet and play with each other. Perhaps we could visit you at Longbourn at the New Year..."

"Oh no, Lydia! Your baby will be much too young to travel such a distance, and in winter! I shall not rest a night for my nerves, knowing my loved ones were making such a journey at that time."

"In the spring then, at Easter? Oh la - that's a whole year away! Well, I'm sure my Wickham could manage some leave by then."

"Oh, that sounds much better. Yes, next spring you must come to Longbourn!"

"Just think Mary, in the Fall we shall have a baby at Longbourn - in our own house - just like the Lucases always did!" exclaimed Kitty. She, Mary, and Georgiana sat on Georgiana's bed going over the evening's news. "I am relieved that Mamá is not really ill, I was so worried that she was dying - and all the time she has been expecting."

"She's not out of danger yet, Kitty," said Mary. "Having a baby can be difficult for someone Mamá's age. I don't know what they were thinking; I should have thought our parents were past the age of," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "lust."

"They are human, Mary. Of course - this would be perfectly normal for anyone else - just not our parents."

"Why not your parents?" asked Georgiana, "I mean, they do love each other."

Kitty laughed. "Mamá and Papa? Not that we've seen - and they act nothing like the lovers in my novels."

"Hmmph to your novels! But you have to admit," Mary countered, "Our parents have been very kind and attentive to each other of late. I should think that shows that they care for each other." Kitty shrugged noncommittally.

"I can't wait until my brother and Lizzy have a baby," said Georgiana, "I long to be an aunt."

"You won't have long to wait, I'm sure, judging by the way Mr. Darcy is always looking at Lizzy," said Kitty. They sat in silence for a while, until Georgiana got the nerve up to speak again.

"Girls," she said quietly, not even daring to lift her eyes, "how does a baby...happen?"

"Ask Lydia!" Kitty giggled. Georgiana was mortified by that suggestion - it had taken all her courage just to welcome Lydia Wickham to Pemberley.

"Kitty!" Mary admonished, "Proper young ladies do not discuss such things among themselves!" Then she turned to Georgiana and said kindly, "Georgiana, you should talk to Lizzy privately about this - it's her place, not ours." Georgiana blushed furiously, and nodded her head, extremely ashamed to have brought the subject up.

Kitty leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Don't worry, Georgiana - I'll tell you all about it after Mary goes to bed."

"They are going to need a lot of help at their age," Elizabeth told her husband as she climbed into her bed and snuggled next to him. "They will need a reliable nursemaid, and eventually a good governess."

"I'm sure they know all of this, dearest, they have been through it before. You should not worry about them, they will be fine."

"You know, until this evening I have never thought of my parents being romantic in... that way."

"They do have five children, Elizabeth," said Mr. Darcy dryly as he blew out the light.

"I know, I just never thought about them and... it."

"What?"

"You know."

"You mean this?"

"Fitzwilliam!" Elizabeth giggled.

"Or maybe this?"

"William!" she whispered in warning, which had no effect as Mr. Darcy continued his quest for what it might be. Elizabeth let out a long sigh, then a giggle.

"Oh... that!"

"Well, that mystery is solved," said Mr. Bingley as he joined his wife in bed, "Your mother's illness isn't an illness at all. You must be very relieved."

"I am, and I am so happy for Father and Mamá. A baby will bring such joy to their lives."

"Someday I hope we will have the same reason to be joyful."

"That day may be sooner than you think," said Jane shyly.

"You mean... you? We...?" Bingley stuttered. Jane nodded.

"I'm not sure yet, I only started to suspect the day after you left."

"This is wonderful news! Have you told your sister Elizabeth yet?"

"No, I wanted to tell you first. But let's not spoil it for Mamá - it's her time now, and as I said, I'm not sure yet. If I still suspect next week, I will ask Lizzy to summon a doctor, so we may be certain."

Mr. Bingley looked adoringly at his wife. "My sweet angel, you are too good."

The next day at breakfast Georgiana kept her eyes focused on her plate and did not say a word. She blushed whenever a new person came into the room, and blushed a deeper shade of red if that person was married. When she thought they weren't looking, she stole a quick, questioning glance at her brother and Elizabeth. Needless to say, the Darcys quickly noticed that something was bothering her, and Elizabeth asked to speak to her privately after breakfast.

An hour and a heart to heart talk later, Elizabeth thought she had done a fairly good job of undoing most of the misconceptions that Kitty had put into the poor girl's head about marriage and babies the night before. Georgiana was extremely relieved to learn that most children were the result of mutual admiration, respect, and tenderness rather than uncontrolled desire, seduction, and animal passion that Kitty had implied - and Elizabeth assured her that swooning was rarely involved. She felt much better and did not even blush too much when her brother came to ask after her a short time later.

Next, after a quick word with Jane, Elizabeth ushered Mary and Kitty into a private room where she and Jane gave them the same heart to heart talk. Mary was very interested, but embarrassed to be so; Kitty maintained her version, gained from extensive novel reading and hints dropped by Lydia, was much more exciting than that told by her sisters. Elizabeth sighed; it was going to be a long summer.

That same day Mr. Bennet returned to the peace of reading in the library. Apparently, since Hill had not accompanied them to Pemberley, Mr. Bennet had taken it upon himself to be available to Mrs. Bennet should she need anything; now that their secret was out, and he had Mrs. Reynolds and a whole houseful of daughters to watch over his wife, he no longer felt obligated to stand guard. He would still check on Mrs. Bennet from time to time during the day, and accompany her on a daily walk in the gardens, but he was relieved to be able to spend a few hours in solitude again.

The next week, after being seen by the Darcys' doctor, Jane and her husband announced that they too were expecting a child, due before the end of the year. Congratulations were given to the happy couple by all, and conversation much like the one after Mrs. Bennet's announcement ensued. But when Lydia brought up the subject of morning sickness, Mr. Darcy again sought refuge in his study, with Mr. Bennet following close behind.

"Mrs. Bennet, fortunately, has only been afflicted with that once," said Mr. Bennet, then the smile left his face and he seemed a bit uneasy.

"Elizabeth?" guessed Mr. Darcy, misunderstanding the cause of Mr. Bennet's discomfort.

"No," he said quietly, "It wasn't with the girls."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Mr. Darcy understood; his own mother had had at least two miscarriages before Georgiana was born.

"It was a few years after Lydia - it wasn't meant to be," began Mr. Bennet, but he was cut short as Mr. Bingley came in the room. Mr. Bennet laughed at his son-in-law's bewildered expression, obviously the morning sickness discussion hadn't agree with him.

"Just wait, my boy - it only gets worse. A year from now they will be swapping birthing stories and comparing dirty nappies." The younger men looked back at the elder in both disbelief and disgust. "Well, don't say I didn't warn you," said Mr. Bennet, then changing the subject, he raised his glass to Mr. Bingley. "So, I find that I can toast one of you after all,"

"Again - congratulations, Charles," added Mr. Darcy, relieved at the turn in the conversation.

"Thank you both. Jane and I couldn't be happier."

"I imagine it's just a matter of time before we are toasting you, Mr. Darcy," commented his father-in-law.

"It does seem to be going around," quipped Mr. Bingley.

"I assure you, gentlemen," replied Mr. Darcy with a slight blush, "If Elizabeth and I have any news to share, you two will be the first to know."

After visiting with her family for two weeks, Lydia returned to Newcastle, accompanied by her father and, unexpectedly, her sister Mary. Kitty had been slated to go, but when Lydia started raving about all the officers she would introduce her to, Mr. Bennet quickly changed traveling companions. Mary was a bit put out at being recruited at the last minute, but after Mr. Bennet assured her that they would have the better part of two days of uninterrupted reading time on the way back, Mary was more than agreeable to the plan. She went directly to the library to borrow a number of Mr. Darcy's books for the trip.

Kitty sulked for nearly half a day after Lydia left, then Elizabeth and Georgiana invited her to go shopping with them in Lambton and she was in good humor from then on.

The Darcys' guests had much to see during their stay at Pemberley. Besides the extensive grounds of the estate, which were seen by both walks and carriage rides, excursions to the many sights of Derbyshire were made. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet often opted to skip those in favor of a simple walk and talk in one of Pemberley's many gardens. Mr. and Mrs. Bingley were so pleased by these outings, however, that they fell in love with the countryside and eventually asked Mr. Darcy to let them know if any promising properties in the neighborhood turned up for sale.

The Bingleys returned to Netherfield after a month, but Mr. Darcy had the pleasure of his remaining in-laws for a total of six weeks before all but Kitty returned to Meryton; her visit was extended to the end of August.

Mrs. Bennet bid a tearful good bye to Elizabeth, thanking her for the hospitality of Pemberley, and leaving her with a parting request.

"Lizzy, you must promise me that you will go to Lydia when her time comes. I can not be there, but she should have some family about her." Elizabeth looked from her mother to her husband, for a moment at a loss what to answer.

"Mamá, I don't think it would be pos..." she began, until, to her surprise, her husband interrupted her.

"Of course we will go, Mrs. Bennet," he said. Mr. Darcy himself could not believe what he was agreeing to, but for some reason felt it was the right thing to do. Elizabeth had earlier expressed the same concern for Lydia to him, and being extremely happy to be getting his house back to himself, the visibly pregnant Mrs. Bennet had caught him in a particularly benevolent mood. Besides, now that the offer had escaped his mouth, he was too proud to back out of it. Elizabeth was stunned, as was her father.

"Are you sure? You have done more than enough already, we really shouldn't impose anymore..."

"It is not an imposition, is it Mr. Darcy?" interrupted Mrs. Bennet, "This is a family matter and he is family after all!"

"Yes, we are family, Ma'am. Elizabeth and I will go."

"This is getting to be a bad habit of mine, I'm afraid, Mr. Darcy," said Mr. Bennet, "I find myself again in your debt."

"It is I who will be forever in your debt, sir," he replied with a significant look at his wife.

"So right you are, Mr. Darcy," agreed Mr. Bennet with a smile. He bid him good bye, then turned to the daughters he was leaving behind. "Kitty, behave yourself, or I shall have Lizzy sent you directly home."

"I will, Papa," she promised.

"I'm sure Kitty will be fine, Father," Elizabeth assured him. Kitty had improved immensely since Lydia's departure. "She will be great company for Georgiana, they have become very close over the last few weeks."

He kissed them both, then helped Mary and his wife into the coach. Mrs. Bennet by this time had a noticeable tummy and every intention of sharing her happy news with her neighbors as soon as possible. Before entering the coach himself, Mr. Bennet had one more question for Elizabeth.

"You will post my letter, Lizzy?"

"Yes, Father. I will post it with my letter to Charlotte this afternoon."

"Good, then it will arrive before Lady Lucas has time to send him word of it, although I'm sure the effect will be the same, regardless of the origin of the message."

"Father, you can be unkind sometimes," Elizabeth said, not unkindly.

"But rarely, my dear," he winked, "and only to the truly deserving."

Chapter 8

A letter from Mr. Gardener, Mrs. Bennet's brother, was waiting for the Bennets when they arrived home from Pemberley (Mrs. Bennet had written him with her news the week before). He and his wife were surprised but delighted by the news that the Bennets were expecting. Mrs. Gardener offered to help out in anyway that she could, and even had some nursemaids in mind if her sister-in-law was interested. All the Gardener children sent their best wishes, the youngest two were particularly excited about soon having a cousin closer to their own age to play with.

The next morning Mrs. Bennet paid a visit to her sister, Mrs. Philips, who took the news quite differently.

"You must be mistaken, Sister," she said confidently, "You are too old to be with child." Mrs. Bennet told her sister that there was no mistake, she was indeed pregnant.

"Are you sure? The doctor could be wrong. Mrs. Yockle thought she was with child last year, but found it was just indigestion. Perhaps you have indigestion." Mrs. Bennet assured her that it was not indigestion, and for verification, indicated her enlarged midsection.

"Maybe it is a growth, then, Sister. Mrs. Finley has a growth the size of a melon on her back - she claims it saved her from drowning when she fell in a pond three summers ago." Mrs. Bennet agreed with her sister that it was indeed a growth - the kind of which she was very familiar with since she had successfully delivered five similar growths over the last four and twenty years! And if Mrs. Philips persisted in not believing her, she would feel very foolish indeed when October came and she found she was an aunt again.

For the first time in her life Mrs. Bennet left her sister's house thinking there sat one of the silliest women in England.

Mrs. Long was very pleased with the news when Mrs. Bennet told her that she was expecting, for that meant that Mrs. Bennet would soon not be attending Assemblies, which meant that she would not be available to escort the remaining Bennet daughters to the affairs. Therefore, it was likely that the Bennet daughters would not be in attendance - always a good thing for Mrs. Long's nieces. Now with Mrs. Goulding's cousin from Cornwall visiting for the summer, and Mr. Philips' new clerk from London due to arrive in Meryton next week, not to mention the two or three eligible Lucas sons - there would be quite a few quality gentlemen about - and no Bennet girls of consequence left in the area. (Mary Bennet was of little concern to Mrs. Long). Yes, her girls would have plenty of opportunities and very little competition. Mrs. Long smiled sweetly and told Mrs. Bennet that she couldn't be happier for her!

Lady Lucas found nothing disturbing about Mrs. Bennet being in the family way at her age - after all, Lady Lucas was almost Mrs. Bennet's age when her youngest child was born three years ago. But she was concerned what this news could mean for her daughter Charlotte - a Bennet son would prevent Mr. Collins from inheriting Longbourn. Living life with Mr. Collins was bad enough, she thought, but Mr. Collins without the possibility of Longbourn would be a tragedy. Still, Lady Lucas was as gracious as she could bring herself to be under the circumstances and wished her neighbor well.

After dinner that evening, Mary excused herself from the table to practice her music; Mr. Bennet asked his wife about the morning calls she had made.

"Mr. Bennet," she said sadly, "I have always considered my sister a very sensible gentlewoman, but today she was very foolish indeed!"

"Indeed, madam?"

"Yes. She said I could not be expecting as I was too old. She still did not believe me when I left."

"You will be happy to know that by the time I left our brother Philips this afternoon, your sister truly did believed you."

"She did?"

"Yes, she was shouting the news out her front window to Mrs. Finley across the street. You remember Mrs. Finley - the woman with the hump on her back?"

"Oh, spare me Mrs. Finley's back, Mr. Bennet! It was a very vexing visit - but at least Mrs. Long and Lady Lucas congratulated us properly."

"Lady Lucas congratulated us, did she?"

"Yes, although I think she was concerned for the Collinses, as I suspected she would be. I assured her that we were planning on a girl, but I think she is still a bit skeptical. And how did your friends take the news, Mr. Bennet?"

"Oh, I only stopped in on Mr. Philips, I saw no need to tell anyone else."

"What do you mean - no need to tell anyone else? What of our neighbors, and the tenants? Do you not think you should tell them?"

"As I said, I saw no need, my dear, for with Hill telling the staff yesterday, and you paying your calls this morning - the way gossip travels in this town, I assumed anyone that I would want to tell would already know long before I had a chance to call in person."

"Mr. Bennet!"

"Mark my words, Mrs. Bennet - all of Meryton and most of Hertfordshire will know of it by morning."

"Perhaps you are right," she said grudgingly, "And I am sure Lady Lucas has already written of it to the Collinses. Well and good - let them have the dread of the entailment hanging over their heads for a while. It would serve them right if we did have a son!"

"Mrs. Bennet..." warned her husband - still banning the topic of a boy. He would only discuss the possibility of a son with his brother-in-law and attorney, Mr. Philips; as far as anyone else was concerned - the child was to be a girl until proven otherwise.

"Very well, Mr. Bennet, I will say no more about it, but I am sure Lady Lucas will send them word before the end of the week!"

"Actually, my dear," said Mr. Bennet innocently, "I wouldn't be surprised if they knew already."

Chapter 9

Charlotte Collins sorted the letters that had arrived in the post, leaving her husband's on his desk in the bookroom while she took hers upstairs to read as she nursed the baby. Catherine Rose Collins was three months old now, and the only resemblance to her father that Charlotte could find was her willingness to please. Charlotte had never seen such a happy baby, and she had seen plenty! She had helped care for the oldest six of her brothers and sisters, and had practically single-handedly seen the youngest three out of nappies. She laughed to herself whenever Lady Catherine offered/dictated advice to her on childcare - as if someone that had watched from a distance as the servants raised her one sickly child could be considered an expert on the subject! But Charlotte dutifully listened and nodded and swore to diligently follow all of her ladyship's directions, intending to do none of it. Mr. Collins was more subdued at those times, as he knew - to his shame - that his wife had no intention of tending to his patroness' sage wisdom on this particular topic. He had learned long before the birth of their child not to question Charlotte about childbearing or childcare - or she would be very put out.

Charlotte opened the letter from Pemberley first, Lizzy's letters were always a treat - filled with humor and absurd events, usually poking fun at her own inexperience in running a household. The tone of this letter, however, was different, and its news, astonishing - her parents were expecting! How nice! But that explained the guarded tone of Lizzy's letter - she was concerned about Charlotte's feelings, and those of Mr. Collins', regarding the entailment. Well, Charlotte hadn't really planned on anything coming of that for another twenty years or more - she was in no hurry to see Mr. Bennet in his grave. She was content with her current situation at Hunsford; she had a comfortable home, respectability, and now her beautiful baby to look after, those had always been her main concerns. The prospect of inheriting Longbourn had never been foremost in her mind, although she knew it had been in her mother's. Besides, the child was just as likely to be a girl as a boy - and then any worry would be for naught. She saw no reason to fret about something that hadn't even happened yet.

She had just finished feeding the baby, when she heard a loud screech coming from the floor below. Taking the child with her, Charlotte hurried downstairs, where she heard moaning coming from the bookroom. There she found Mr. Collins, pale and shaking in the chair before his desk, staring at a letter in his hands and muttering to himself.

"This is awful, just awful," then seeing his wife, he exclaimed, "Oh Charlotte, I've just had news of the most horrible kind! I can not begin to tell you such ill tidings as has come in the post..."

"Good Heavens - has someone died?" she asked in alarm.

"Would that they had! No, it is my cousins the Bennets." That explained it all to Charlotte - her husband must have learned the same news that she had just received from Lizzy.

"Calm yourself, husband," she soothed. "Let me get you some tea, or perhaps sherry..."

"No - no, I must have the port - it is the only thing the will calm my nerves when they have reached this degree of agitation!"

"Very well, I will have a bottle fetched from the cellar."

"Don't bother, there is some on the bottom shelf," he pointed to the wall of books on the far side of the room. "Behind my copy of Sermons on Humility and Temperance."

"Indeed?" She handed the baby to her husband, who took her reluctantly, holding her at arm's length and causing her to screech, not unlike her father. Charlotte found the half-empty bottle of port behind the aforementioned book, and poured Mr. Collins a glass, which he swallowed in one gulp.

"Now," said Charlotte, retrieving and quieting the baby, "Tell me, what news?"

"This is from my cousin Bennet," said Mr. Collins holding up the letter. "He writes that his wife - she is... she is... with child." He said it as if someone had died.

"But that is wonderful news, Husband! We should be very happy for our cousins!"

"Don't you understand, my dear Charlotte? If the child is male, he will inherit instead of me! The enormity of the implications of this piece of information that my cousin so casually mentions three quarters way through his letter, as if it were an every day occurrence - mixed in with some nonsense about an olive branch of all things..."

"I understand perfectly well, dear," interrupted Charlotte, "But aren't you being a bit premature in your distress? After all, it is just as likely, if not more likely - given the Bennet's history - that they will have a daughter..."

"Oh no, if I know Mrs. Bennet, it will be a son! She has probably been praying to the Almight for a son for years now - and just like the parable of the widow and the judge - our Lord will grant her request, if for nothing else than to stop her from hounding him." He shook his head dejectedly, poured himself another generous glass of port, and proceeded to drain it.

"Then perhaps, Mr. Collins," replied Charlotte, seeing little sense in his logic, but willing to humor him, "you should pray to God that they have a girl. Surely our Lord can not refuse you if you pray fervently, and often - very often, constantly - in the church."

"Yes," he said slowly, swirling the last drops of liquid around in his glass. "Yes, my dear - excellent advice! Our Blessed Lord will undoubtedly give more weight to requests made by me - one of His most humble and devout clergyman - than to those made by a shrewish old woman who has so recklessly and negligently raised the children he had already entrusted to her care. I shall beseech Him directly, after I inform Lady Catherine of this truly horrible turn of events. She will want to comfort and encourage me in this terrible time of uncertainty."

"Undoubtedly, my dear," said Charlotte, with a sigh - at least now he would be leaving the house for a while.

Mr. Collins jumped to his feet, grabbed his walking stick, and rushed out the front door, nearly knocking over Miss Anne de Bourgh and Colonel Fitzwilliam, who were just coming up the walk at the time.

"Oh pardon me, pardon me!" Mr. Collins apologized while continuing on his way, "I have urgent business to discuss with my patroness that can not be delayed! It is of a nature that her ladyship will be most anxious to give me her views and noble advice upon - although I do not pretend to deserve the honor of..." his voice thankfully faded as he walked speedily away and out of sight, leaving Charlotte to greet her visitors.

Chapter 10

Charlotte had followed her husband out the door to find her friend Anne de Bourgh and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Anne had been a frequent visitor to the parsonage ever since the birth of Catherine Rose. The Colonel Charlotte had not seen since the Darcy/Bingley double wedding in December, but she was pleased to see that he was still as handsome as ever.

"Anne, Colonel Fitzwilliam, what a surprise. Do come in," welcomed Charlotte, as Anne relieved her of the baby.

"Rosie! There's my girl! Come to your Auntie Anne," she cooed to the baby, then proceeded to make introductions. "Colonel, I would like to present Miss Catherine Rose Collins, my goddaughter. Rosie, this is Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, your Auntie's cousin." The baby gave him an uncertain look. "Don't worry, he's quite safe. He's on our side," Anne whispered in her ear.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Collins," said the Colonel, gently putting a finger to the baby's hand and bowing, much to the amusement of both Anne and Charlotte.

Rose grasped the offered finger, but was not sure what to make of the very tall, red-clad figure before her. He was kind of like the Father man, but higher, with lighter hair and eyes - and this one actually spoke to her - like Mama and Auntie did. Always happy to be acknowledged, Rose condescended to give this newcomer half a smile. The Colonel lightly bounced her hand up and down, keeping eye contact and making inquires about her day. He did not ignore her like most Father-ish people. When he stopped talking he gave her a big, toothy grin; that settled it - he had Rose's approval, and was thus rewarded with the second half of her smile.

"You have a beautiful baby, Mrs. Collins," said the Colonel turning to Charlotte.

"Thank you, Colonel, she has been my joy since her birth in March." Charlotte blushed with pride. It was very kind of the Colonel to take notice of Rose, and he obviously had been around babies before.

"That was right around the time that the Colonel should have been here on his annual visit," remarked Anne, with a smirk. "It is so late in the year, I'm surprised he deigned to visit us at all."

"As I explained to your mother, Anne, I was delayed at Easter out of necessity, due to military business. I came as soon as I possibly could to pay you both my respects."

"I'm sure you did, Colonel," said Charlotte sympathetically.

"And I find on my return that a remarkable change has taken place in my cousin Anne, Mrs. Collins - she has talked more in this last day than I've heard her speak in the first twenty some years of her life!"

"And all about little Rose, no doubt."

"Mostly, yes," he laughed.

"Well, you should not be surprised that I said so little in the past," Anne replied with a blush. "I have never had so fascinating a subject to discuss before, have I Rosie?" Rose beamed at her Auntie. She loved being talked to, and Auntie spoke to her almost as much as Mama did.

"I couldn't agree with you more, Anne, if I do say so myself," said Charlotte. "Now, if you could show the Colonel the way to the back parlor, I will order some tea."

"Of course, this way Richard. Come on Rosie, let's find your basket," said Anne, walking toward the back of the house. The Colonel tarried a moment before following his cousin. Anne wasn't the only one who had undergone a remarkable change, mused the Colonel as Mrs. Collins walked away. Although he had seen her at his cousin's wedding, he hadn't really taken much notice of her. He had remembered the pastor's wife as a gentile sort of woman - good company and pleasant to be sure, but nothing to her friend Miss Bennet; besides, who looks at pastors' wives that closely. But now she seemed... rounder... than she had a year ago. It looked as if she had gained some much needed weight, due to the baby, no doubt - and it had remained in some highly desirable places, also - he supposed - due to the baby. He smiled; her figure now matched her personality - quite pleasant. Then he scowled, remembering her fool of a husband, and followed his cousin Anne into the parlor.

Mr. Collins layed his devastating news at Lady Catherine's feet, expecting his noble patroness to ease his burden with her irreproachable wisdom. He sat in silent anticipation, waiting for her enlightening response.

"Frankly Mr. Collins, given what I have heard of the wanton nature of the Bennet daughters, and have witnessed myself in that imprudent, unfeeling girl that bewitched my nephew Darcy, I am not at all surprised to hear that their mother finds herself in her rather embarrassing condition. It emphasizes the impropriety and rather baser habits rampant in lower circles of society."

Mr. Collins nodded his head in agreement, cousins or not, Lady Catherine was never wrong about such things - about anything.

"However, I can find no fault with Mr. Bennet. As a man of property, it is his right and duty to produce an heir, regardless of his age. Although your prospects will be greatly reduced if the child is male, you are still young enough that with certain economies of housekeeping, which I am constantly recommending to Mrs. Collins, your situation should remain quite tolerable."

Mr. Collins thanked Lady Catherine for her condescendence in taking his wife and his poor household into her interest, but at the same time, he was devastated that she was unsympathetic to his plight. Not that he would ever presume to think his patroness could have any opinion other than the most proper one to have, but that it was completely opposite to one that would be to his benefit was quite a blow.

"However", Lady Catherine continued, "You may still be in a fair way to inherit, as the inability to produce an heir seems to run in your family."

Mr. Collins was pleased that his patroness thought it unlikely that the Bennet child would be a boy, then on further reflection, lowered his eyes in shame for the fact that his only begotten child was a girl. That Lady Catherine herself had only produced a daughter did not seem to figure into Mr. Collins' logic, or lack thereof. Lady Catherine had long ago decreed that daughters were of little consequence to their fathers - thus Catherine Rose had been of little consequence to him, despite her illustrious namesake. The child was good as babies go, he supposed, but it had a nasty habit of squawking whenever Charlotte thrust it at him, which was very irritating, so he tended to avoid it. It was Charlotte's baby; perhaps if his wife ever gave him a son he would tolerate that one better.

The Colonel sat sipping his tea, watching his cousin encourage the baby to swat at stuffed figures hanging from the handle of her basket. Anne explained that Charlotte had made them; one was a Mama doll, dressed in blue, a Papa doll, dressed in black, and an Auntie doll, dressed in green. He was amused that the figure the child seemed to swat at the most was the Papa doll.

"No Lady Catherine doll?" inquired the Colonel.

"No, my husband thought it would not be very dignified. He wasn't too pleased with the Auntie doll either, until Anne insisted she wanted to be included."

"I considered it an honor," Anne put in. Charlotte smiled at her friend.

"Anne also told me she was quite honored to be named godmother."

"The honor was ours, Colonel."

"Even if I wasn't your first choice," teased Anne.

"You were always my first choice, Anne. I'm so glad that Lady Catherine decided she did not want yet another godchild when my husband asked her, and she suggested you in her stead."

"I was thrilled," Anne gushed, "especially since Rosie is the first baby I ever held." She emphasized the point by taking the child out of the basket and setting her on her lap.

"And who has the honor of being godfather?" inquired the Colonel

"My second eldest brother, Lewis, although Mr. Collins would have preferred my eldest brother William."

"You didn't agree?"

"No, my brother Lewis actually likes children, I can't say as much for William."

"Besides, Lewis is much handsomer than William," put in Anne.

"How do you know, Anne? You have never seen my brother William."

"Well, I have seen Lewis, and Maria assured me when she was here in March that Lewis is the handsome one," Anne said with confidence. She then turned and held Rose out to her cousin. "Would you like to hold the baby Richard?"

The Colonel hesitated; he had no fear of babies, however, as he was only acquainted his brothers children, and he regrettably did not know Mrs. Collins that well, he did not know if it would be appropriate for him to hold her child. Rose gave him an encouraging smile, which he returned in kind.

"Only if Mrs. and Miss Collins have no objections," he said.

"I have no objections if she doesn't, Colonel," offered Charlotte.

He took the baby and, talking to her, bounced her lightly up and down on his knee. She gurgled in delight and almost laughed.

"She likes you, Colonel," laughed Charlotte

"It is mutual, isn't Miss Collins?"

"By the way, I have some good news about your cousins, the Darcys."

"Oh?" asked the Colonel, shifting the baby off his knee and into his arms. She immediately started playing with his face, much to the amusement of Anne.

"Yes, they are soon to have a new brother or sister."

The Colonel, distracted by the baby squeezing his nose, did not hear the last part of Charlotte's sentence. "Oh, is one of Mrs. Darcy's sisters engaged?" inquired the Colonel, attempting to maintain a casual conversation despite the constant rearrangement of his facial features.

"No, Mrs. Darcy writes that her mother Mrs. Bennet is expecting a baby." Charlotte came to the Colonel's rescue and took Rose off his hands, although Rose was reluctant to give up his nose.

"Really?" exclaimed Anne. Any news about any baby fascinated her now that she knew one first hand.

"That must have been a surprise," commented the Colonel, still making faces at the baby.

"I can just imagine the look on cousin Fitzwilliam's face when he heard," said Anne. "Although I'd never say it in front of mother, he can be a bit stuffy at times."

"Lizzy didn't say how he took it specifically, only that the family was happy with the news."

"Oh Charlotte, doesn't that mean that if it's a boy..." began Anne, before putting her hand to her mouth. She probably shouldn't be mentioning the entailment in front of her cousin. The Colonel was confused for a moment, then recalled something Darcy had mentioned the year before about Mr. Collins being heir to the Bennet estate. A Bennet boy would change the fortunes of the Collins considerably.

"Yes, a boy would inherit Longbourn over Mr. Collins," said Charlotte, answering their thoughts, "but we are well settle here in Hunsford. I am sure we will be fine. Boy or girl, I am very happy for Mr. and Mrs. Bennet."

"That is very good of you to say, Mrs. Collins. I know many who would not take the news quite so graciously," the Colonel said kindly. Charlotte smiled, she knew one such gentleman intimately.

After her visitors left, Charlotte sat playing with Rose in her lap. "That was a nice visit, wasn't it Rose?" she asked. "That Colonel Fitzwilliam is going to make some lucky baby a good father someday, isn't he?" And some lucky lady a wonderful husband, she added wistfully to herself.

Chapter 11

Summer in Meryton was quiet and fairly uneventful. Mrs. Long was disappointed to see Mr. Philip's new clerk pay a bit too much attention to Mary Bennet, due to his connection with her uncle and also their common taste in music. Kitty returned in plenty of time to help with preparations for the new baby, after having spent a delightful few months with the Darcys. Mrs. Bennet ventured away from the house less as her pregnancy progressed, and was content to sit in the parlor or garden and work on her sewing, much of it being new baby clothes. She was nervous about the upcoming birth, but constantly reminded herself that it was nothing she had not been through numerous times before, and that there was currently nothing she could do about it anyway. Mr. Bennet alternated between dreading the upcoming blessed event and wishing the whole thing was over with and the child was safely out of his wife and in its cradle.

In mid September, about a week before Lydia's baby was due, Mr. & Mrs. Darcy left Pemberley on their promised trip to Newcastle. Elizabeth brought along a long letter from Jane to read, which had arrived the day before. She tried to amuse her husband with anecdotes about their friends in Meryton and how Mr. Bennet and Mr. Bingley were fairing with their wives' condition. Mr. Darcy smiled at his wife's efforts, but for the most part stayed silent.

"You get very quiet whenever I mention Jane's or Mamá's baby, Fitzwilliam. Are you... disappointed... that we aren't expecting as well?" Elizabeth finally asked.

"Good Heavens - no! Just the opposite," exclaimed Mr. Darcy, a bit too quickly. His wife looked confused at that remark and wasn't quite sure if she should be hurt or not. Mr. Darcy, seeing her distress, added, "Don't get me wrong, dearest, I want nothing more than for us to have children - eventually. It's just that... babies need so much attention and will take up so much of your time. I'm not sure I'm ready to share you yet, even with our own children. I'm being selfish, I know."

"But you don't object to sharing me with Georgiana."

"That's different, Georgiana is my sister and she knows... "

"She knows that you take precedence over her where I am concerned, whereas a baby will not - is that it?"

"I - I don't even know myself," sighed Mr. Darcy. He brushed his hand through his (beautiful, dark, curly) hair in frustration at not being able to put into words all the conflicting feelings he was having. Children of Elizabeth, he knew, would be as beautiful, intelligent and lively as their mother, but he remembered how little time his own mother had had for him after Georgiana was born, and after what he'd gone through to win Elizabeth, he was in no hurry to lose her undivided attention. He didn't even want to think what demands a newborn baby would put on her. Besides, it seemed to him that he had barely had his wife to himself since their wedding, with the comings and goings of her relatives; now they were joining more in Newcastle - at his own doing no less!

"It is true that a baby will take up a great deal of my time and attention," Elizabeth said gently after a moment, "but I promise you faithfully, my love, that should we have ten children, I shall always make some time everyday for you and only you." Then she added playfully, "And if not during the day, then certainly at night."

"You promise me this faithfully, Elizabeth?" he asked in amused disbelief, "even should we have ten children?"

"Quite faithfully, Fitzwilliam," she answered seriously. "Where else do you suppose those ten children will come from?"

Mr. Bennet passed the breakfast platter to his wife, who passed it immediately on to their daughter Kitty without taking anything.

"Aren't you hungry, Mamá?" asked Kitty.

"I thought I'd just have tea this morning," she replied.

Mr. Bennet, thinking his wife's lack of appetite unusual, glanced at her from time to time during the meal, and noticed that she seemed to grimace in pain at one point. Later, when he saw her do this a second time, he gave her one of those inquiring looks (that had so annoyed Elizabeth), to which she answered with a smile and a nod.

"And when, may I ask, Mrs. Bennet, did you plan on enlightening us?" he said drolly.

"I thought I'd wait until after everyone was done eating. These things usually take some time - no use in spoiling everyone's meal."

Mary and Kitty exchanged confused glances as their parents appeared to be the middle of a conversation that, as far as they knew, had never started.

"The key word being usually, madam. I recall Lydia arriving rather more quickly than the rest." Mr. Bennet shook his head in exasperation at his wife, then called out "Hill!"

The ever-dependable woman appeared instantly from another room.

"Would you be so kind as to send the carriage around to pick up the doctor, and send Jasper to Netherfield to inform Mrs. Bingley that it is time."

"Yes sir, at once," replied Hill. With an anxious look at her mistress, she hurried out to do the master's bidding.

"It is, Papa?" asked a startled Mary.

"Isn't it too early? Lydia hasn't even had her baby yet," exclaimed Kitty, who calculated their mother had another two weeks at least until her expected delivery date.

"It is not soon enough, if you ask me," retorted Mrs. Bennet.

"Babies make their own time, Kitty," said Mr. Bennet, "You should know that - you kept us waiting an extra three weeks. Now help your mother up to her room, girls, and stay with her until Hill comes. I will await the doctor."

He then went to his library and poured himself a drink; it was going to be a long day.

It had not been the worst two and a half weeks of his life, but Mr. Darcy knew it was the worst two and a half weeks of his marriage, culminating with this being the worst day. Mrs. Wickham had been in labor for 18 long, noisy hours, and every minute of that time Mr. Darcy had had to spend with his brother-in-law (he had been enlisted by his wife to "keep Mr. Wickham company") - every long, excruciatingly painful minute.

When Elizabeth finally popped her head out of the bedchamber after nine hours, saying the midwife thought it would be quite a while yet, Mr. Darcy ventured to suggest to his brother-in-law that they go out for a walk. Mr. Wickham agreed and led his former friend directly across the street to the nearest pub. Surprisingly Mr. Darcy had no objections; by that time he had to admit that he was in dire need of a drink.

It was around midnight, Mr. Darcy bought a bottle of brandy and sat down with Wickham at a corner table. For the next hour and a half, while Darcy slowly nursed the same drink, his brother-in-law helped himself to quite a few, while extolling the virtues of Newcastle, northern England, and his regiment. After such enthusiasm, Mr. Darcy was hardly surprised when Mr. Wickham stood up and announced:

"I propose a toast, Darcy - To the Bennet ladies - every blessed one of them!" Mr. Darcy raised his glass, but stayed silent. Wickham sat down and continued.

"I don't know what there is about those Bennet ladies, but one does not tire of them easily. Take my wife, at times she can be loud and vulgar - I would swear that I had married her Aunt Philips by mistake; then the next moment she will walk across the room with all the grace and dignity of Mrs. Bingley, although lately - slightly plumper. I've even heard her make remarks with as much wit as your Mrs. Darcy."

Mr. Darcy raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"I know what you're thinking - my Lydia couldn't tell the difference between Nelson and Napoleon, and you're right, and I'm sure she doesn't care - but she has her moments. Gad - you should see her read a ballroom - pure genius!"

"Excuse me - read a ballroom?" echoed Mr. Darcy, it was an extremely odd thing to say.

"Yes, it's uncanny. She will watch the goings on in a ballroom, and in a matter of minutes she can tell you who will dance with who and during what set. She can even guess at likely and past liaisons - and I've seldom seen her wrong - she's amazing! What a gift."

"Yes," agreed Mr. Darcy, with a hint of sarcasm, "I can see where it would be useful."

"Someday," Wickham said quietly, almost to himself, "someday it may very well be."

Something in the way he had said it caught Mr. Darcy's attention; it reminded him of their college days, when Wickham's more deceitful habits started coming to light, and he always seemed to be in the middle of one questionable scheme or another. After a few moments, Mr. Darcy gave up trying to make sense of his brother-in-law's remark; for now he would let it go. If he was up to no good, Wickham would eventually give himself away, and Fitzwilliam's friends would send him word of it.

"Lydia's been at it quite a while now," Wickham said casually, "I shouldn't think it will be much longer now. Care to place a wager on the outcome, Darcy? I'm laying 3 to 1 odds in favor of a boy."

"You're taking bets on your own baby? Isn't that a bit... crude, even for you?"

"It's all in good fun, Darcy. Loosen up."

"Your wife is in labor - aren't you worried?"

"Lydia is a Bennet, and very healthy - if you know what I mean," laughed Wickham. "She'll be fine."

"You aren't even nervous about becoming a father?"

"What is there to be nervous about? It's not like I will be rearing the brat."

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry Darcy," Wickham said in mock sincerity, "I mean, it's not like I will be rearing the child."

"You will be responsible for providing a good home for the child," said Mr. Darcy, full of indignation, "And of setting a proper example for that child to learn by. It is not a responsibility you can afford to take lightly."

"If you remember, brother, it is not a responsibility I cared to take on at all. Regardless, Lydia and I live well enough, I doubt a child or two will make that much of a difference. From what I've seen, they are hardly of much consequence, at least to a gentleman with an occupation. Lydia will tend them and keep them out from under foot, and I'll tell them an occasional bedtime story. How hard can it be?"

Mr. Darcy didn't answer, although he admitted to himself that he had no idea how hard it could be - but he did know that to do it properly would be much harder than his brother-in-law had any concept of. He pitied the child already.

"Don't be so serious, Darcy," said Mr. Wickham in a brighter tone, "Shall we get back and see if the little bun's popped out of the oven yet?"

That was nearly seven hours ago. Since then, Mr. Darcy had read every military journal and novelette in Wickham's cramped parlor, cringing with every muffled yowl coming from the other side of the wall, while Wickham absently played with a deck of cards. He was just considering whether or not to browse through one of several dress pattern books when the screams of Mrs. Wickham took on a sharper tone.

"Shouldn't be long now," said Wickham over the noise.

Mr. Darcy wasn't sure, but thought he detected a bit of tension in the man's voice. Maybe Wickham was getting nervous after all.

A few minutes later, a tired but beaming Elizabeth finally emerged from the other room and announced, "Mr. Wickham - it's a girl!"

Chapter 12

"It's a boy!"

That wasn't what he had been waiting to hear, so it didn't really register what she said at first.

"How is she?" he asked, ignoring the congratulations that his son-in-law was attempting to offer.

"He, Papa; it's a boy," Mary said again.

"Your mother - how is she?" Mr. Bennet asked impatiently. He had been waiting in his library with Mr. Bingley for hours, worried to death about his wife. Despite the assurances that the doctor had given them over the months, he knew Mrs. Bennet was still rather old for this kind of thing. Childbirth was probably the most dangerous time for a woman in his wife's station of life, and even if she had never had problems before, well - at least when she was this far along - fourteen years was a long time between babies.

"Mamá is alright, I guess. The doctor said you may come up now." Mary was slightly confused. After hearing about the entailment all her life, she just assumed her father would have had more of a reaction to the news that he now had a male heir.

She followed him up the stairs, where they encountered Kitty sitting on the top step, looking a bit pale and out of spirits. As anxious as he was to see his wife, Mr. Bennet paused to tease his daughter.

"What's the matter, Kitty - pouting because Jane sent you out too soon?" he asked.

"I wish - I can't believe Mamá went through that six times!" she exclaimed. "I'm certainly never going to have a baby!"

Mr. Bennet chuckled and patted her head, then continued on to his wife's room. At the door he turned to Mary and said, "A boy, hmmm? Your mother must be pleased."

Mrs. Bennet's voice answered from inside the room. "Yes, but as you insisted that had it been a girl, she would be equally welcome, I would have been just as pleased with another daughter."

As Mr. Bennet stepped in the room, a smiling Hill hurried by on her way out with a bundle of dirty linen. The doctor had just finished putting on his coat and looked as if he was making to leave. Jane stood beside the bed holding another bundle, which Mr. Bennet assumed was his latest child. Mrs. Bennet was lying in bed against a number of pillows, smiling serenely, but otherwise looking like she had just run a mile.

"Congratulations Mr. Bennet," said the doctor.

"Thank you," he replied absently, his eyes going between his wife and the bundle in his oldest daughter's arms.

"Mother and child are doing fine. I don't anticipate any problems, but I will stop in later today, just to check. Although it has not been the case with Mrs. Bennet, some woman do have complications after the fact."

"Can you stay for tea, doctor?" asked Jane, handing the baby to her mother.

"Thank you, but I think I had better..."

"You're welcome to something stronger in the library," offered Mr. Bennet.

"Yes? Well, I don't mind if I do."

"Charles will take care of it, Father. You stay here and visit with Mamá," said Jane as she, Mary, and the doctor left the room.

"And how are you feeling, my dear?" asked Mr. Bennet, settling into the chair beside the bed.

"Tired, very tired, but thrilled. I think he is the image of Mary when she was born. Look at him, isn't he sweet?"

"Excuse me, madam, but no son of mine shall ever be referred to as sweet. He needs his dignity after all."

"Very well, handsome then, and with good lungs - you should have heard him howl when he arrived."

"I did. Now hand the lad over to me so I can take a good look at him."

Mr. Bennet took the bundle from his wife as the baby's eyes opened briefly, revealing the promise of brown eyes, before clenching shut again. He was smaller and redder than any of the girls had been, understandable given that he had come a few weeks early. His fine, dark hair, still a bit damp, clung to his scalp, and he seemed to be sucking on his lower lip; but even with his eyes closed and lower lip sucked in, Mr. Bennet saw the similarities of this baby to his other children. His nose, mouth, ears, even the shape of his head, proclaimed to the world that he was a Bennet. Mr. Bennet glanced up to see his wife looking at him expectantly.

"Hmmm," he finally said, "I do see a family resemblance."

"You do?"

"Yes, he looks a bit like Mr. Collins."

"Mr. Bennet! You do delight in vexing me!"

"Truth be told, he appears to have the Gardiner mouth, the Bennet eyes, your nose, and I fear, my ears. It seems all he doesn't have is a name."

"That's easily done. He is your heir, so we can call him after you - and maybe that Oliver name you like so much for a second name."

"Ahhh, perhaps your brother's name would be a better choice for that," said Mr. Bennet quickly, not willing to push his old joke too far. "He has agreed to be godfather, after all. Thomas Edward - it suits him, if I do say so myself."

"Yes, it suits him very well. Oh Mr. Bennet, a son! God has been so good to us!"

After the midwife had gone home, Elizabeth excused herself from the room to give the new parents some privacy. Lydia sat up in bed holding her new baby girl out for her husband to see.

"Oh George, isn't she precious, just like a doll. Mrs. Blaine had warned me that newborn babies tend to look a bit scrawny at first, but not this one! She's plump and pretty right from the start."

"Yes she is."

"Could you hold her a minute? I've got to pull these covers up, I'm freezing."

"Uh, that's alright," responded Mr. Wickham a bit nervously, "You hang on to her, I'll get the covers."

"Don't be silly, it's easier for me to do it. Here." She handed the baby to her husband, who took it reluctantly. "And be careful with her head - she's not strong enough to hold it up on her own yet."

Mr. Wickham sat down in a chair by the bed and carefully turned the child around to see a pink sleeping face with fine, wispy brown hair buried deep inside the white fluffy blanket.

"She's so tiny," he said in awe. It was the first newborn baby he had ever held.

"She seems so now, but I wouldn't have agreed with you an hour ago - I thought she'd never come out. Goodness, my feet are like ice! Is it getting colder out?"

"No, it's bright and sunny, warmer than yesterday. She looks like you, Lydia."

"You think? I can never tell with babies. Oh dear, I'm shaking. Why is it so cold? Feel my hand." Wickham shifted the baby to one side and took his wife's outstretched hand; he was startled by how cold it felt.

"It is like ice."

Lydia clutched the covers tightly around her and started to panic. "What's wrong? I can't stop shaking - something is wrong! Get Lizzy! Get the midwife, George - hurry!"

Mr. Wickham got up still holding the baby, looked at the fright in his wife's eyes, then at the baby in his arms. Not knowing what to do with it, he tucked it under one arm and ran out of the room. Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy were standing by the window talking quietly together.

"Lizzy - Mrs. Darcy - your sister needs you, something's wrong!"

Elizabeth, not waiting for an explanation, ran past Mr. Wickham into the bedchamber.

"What is it, Wickham? What's the matter?" Mr. Darcy asked in alarm.

"I have no idea. I've got to get the midwife back; she can't have gone far. Here Bill, hold this - and mind the head!"

Surprised first by the use of a nickname he hadn't heard in nearly twenty years, then by Mr. Wickham thrusting a baby into his arms and rushing out the door, Mr. Darcy had no time to think. He held the baby with two hands like she was a piece of glass, afraid she would break if he moved wrong. Slowly he made his way to the nearest chair and carefully sat down, releasing a long held breath.

He hadn't held a young baby since Georgiana was born, and he didn't remember his sister being this small the first time he ever held her - but then he had only been ten years old at the time. He stared intently at the child's face, who stared back at him through cloudy blue eyes, and he was amazed at the familiar features he found there - similarities to Wickham, Lydia, Mr. Bennet, the late Mrs. Wickham, even his own dear Elizabeth. It was fascinating. Then, as he felt her move slightly in his hands, he wondered at how something so tiny could be a whole, complete, living little person.

A few moments later the midwife hurried through, going directly to the bedchamber, saying as she passed that she was sure everything was going to be fine. After the door closed in Mr. Wickham's face, he turned slowly around, looked momentarily at the baby in Mr. Darcy's arms, then went straight to a bottle of brandy in the cupboard. He poured himself a tall glass with shaking hands.

"Fancy any, Darcy?"

"No, no thank you. Wickham, I'm sure..."

"Gad Darcy!" Mr. Wickham interrupted, "Nothing can happen to Lydia - not now! I can't raise one of those..." he gestured toward the baby with his glass, "...alone - especially a girl! I don't know the first thing about it."

"Mrs. Wickham will be all..."

"I never even considered anything going wrong. Lydia was to tend any children. Without her... I don't know how you ever did it with your sister - raising a little girl by yourself..." Mr. Darcy tensed at his mention of Georgiana, just as Wickham spun toward him, desperation showing in his face. "You take her, Bill!"

"Wickham, calm down. You don't know what you're saying."

"I do. I can't keep her with me. In the military I could be moved at anytime, killed during a campaign even - then what would happen to her? No, Bill, you must take her. At least at Pemberley she'll have a chance at a more stable life, with you and Liz - Mrs. Darcy to raise her. Say you'll take her, please Bill!"

"George, this isn't necessary..."

"Just promise me, if anything does happen to Lydia, that you will take the baby to raise."

"If anything were to happen to Elizabeth's sister, of course we would - but Wickham, nothing is going to happen. I'm sure everything will be all right."

Mr. Wickham, relieved at his old friend's promise, sat down heavily in the nearest chair and downed the rest of the liquor in his glass. A moment later, the midwife opened the door and announced that Mrs. Wickham would be fine.

"She's just had a bit of a shock to her system - it takes a lot out of a body pushing a new life into the world. Mrs. Darcy will be ordering her some nice warm soup, and Mrs. Wickham will be right as rain after a good nap. You can go in and see her now if you'd like, Mr. Wickham."

He went quickly into the room as Elizabeth came out. She smiled reassuringly at her husband, then headed for the kitchen to give instructions to the Wickham's day maid on getting her mistress something to eat. She came back a few moments later to find Mr. Darcy gazing at the now sleeping baby in his lap.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" murmured Elizabeth softly.

"That she is - and so small, and perfect. Will ours be like this?"

"No, ours will be even more beautiful."

"I'd like one."

"They aren't always quiet and sleeping, you know."

"I know."

"And they will take up a lot of my time - time away from you."

"No - they will take up a lot of our time. We'll do this together, Elizabeth. I want to be just as involved in raising our children as you are."

"Very well, Mr. Darcy, I agree. We can start going over the details of ... acquiring ... one of our own as soon as may be. But in the meantime, I had better be getting this little angel back to her parents."

"I'll never make fun of Mamá's nerves again," said Lydia, now bundled in a number of blankets. "I feel rather silly, making all that fuss over nothing."

"Nonsense, how were we to know? It was very frightening," said Mr. Wickham.

"And my feet are still cold."

There was a knock on the door, followed by Elizabeth coming in with the baby.

"There's my little one! Come to Mamá, sweetheart!" gushed Lydia.

"Have you thought of a name yet?" asked Elizabeth, as she handed the baby to her sister.

"I like the name Alison - like Major Blaine's wife. How do you like it, dear?"

"Alison Lydia Wickham, it sounds grand," said Mr. Wickham. Lydia blushed, flattered by the addition of her name.

Elizabeth smiled at the genuine show of affection from her sister's husband. She excused herself from the room a moment later when the maid brought in the soup. Lydia handed Alison to her father, who accepted her much more easily than he had before.

"By the by, Lydia, I more or less asked Darcy to be godfather."

"And he agreed? Good, Lizzy can be godmother. Then maybe they will put something aside toward her dowry," laughed Lydia, only half in jest.

"My dear," said Mr. Wickham, leaning forward to kiss his wife's head, "You think more like me every day."

Chapter 13

Mrs. Bennet awoke from her nap in a happy mood. Just yesterday they had received an express from Elizabeth telling of the birth of their first grandchild, Lydia's new daughter Alison Wickham, and she had been born the very same day as little Thomas - Lydia would be so amused. Or at least she would, Mrs. Bennet thought ruefully, if Mr. Bennet ever got around to sending word to his northern daughters that they had a new baby brother!

Yes, she sighed, content again. Their new baby brother - Little Thomas. She smiled, and turned her head to gaze at the answer to her every prayer, to look upon her God-given triumph over that wicked entailment, to see - an empty cradle.

"Hill! Hill!" screeched Mrs. Bennet, "The baby is gone! Gypsies must have stolen him while I napped! Call the constable! Call the militia! Call Mr. Bennet!" Her nerves, which had had a tolerable rest for the better part of nine months, returned to her full force when she saw her son was not in the cradle in her bedchamber. Mrs. Hill came running and quickly checked the nursery, but the baby was not in the crib either. Nor did Mary, Kitty, or any of the house staff have any idea where he could be.

Moments later Kitty solved the mystery when she went to the study to alert her father of the situation. She found the baby safely in Mr. Bennet's arms, staring wide eyed at his father's mouth as he read to him from Gulliver's Travels.

"Thank goodness - you've found him!" exclaimed Mrs. Hill from behind, who then hurried upstairs to calm her mistress. Mary immediately took Hill's place in the doorway and peered around Kitty's shoulder.

"Don't you think Swift rather controversial for him, Papa?" she asked seriously, prompting her sister to burst out laughing.

"It's not as though he understands what's being said, Mary - he's only three days old!"

"Don't be too sure about that, Kitty, after all, he is a Bennet," replied their father, "And it's never too early to start the lad's education. Don't worry, Mary, Swift hasn't made much of an impression on him thus far. Thomas found his fist much more to his taste."

It was true. The child now had his eyes closed and was chewing on his fist with vigor. But even he paused to listen when loud thumps were heard coming down the stairs.

The girls made way for their mother as she entered the study crying, "Mr. Bennet, what is the meaning of this?!!"

"My dear, what a pleasant surprise," he answered. "I didn't expect to see you downstairs for another week."

Kitty crossed her arms and leaned back against the doorframe with an expectant grin on her face; she hadn't heard her mother rant for months and thought it might be fun to hear, as long as she wasn't on the receiving end. Mary, thinking her parents could use some privacy, pulled Kitty out of the room and closed the door behind them.

Mrs. Bennet took the baby from her husband, and patting the child gently, held him close. The baby, recognizing the scent of his mother, snuggled even closer and made soft, nuzzling noises.

"What did you think you were doing, Mr. Bennet - taking the baby away without telling anyone? Have you no compassion on my nerves? I nearly had an apoplexy!"

"I'm sorry, Fanny," replied Mr. Bennet, getting up and putting a hand on his wife's shoulder. "When I peeked in to check on you both, you were sleeping but the lad was stirring, and I didn't want him to wake you. I thought it might be a good time to introduce him to my library." Then, leaning towards the baby, he added, "We've been having a fine time, haven't we, Thomas? Maybe Mamá will let you stay a bit longer to talk with the old man?"

Thomas didn't answer. He just nuzzled at his mother's gown harder, his noises getting louder and more demanding. Mrs. Bennet softened a bit as her husband spoke so familiarly to the baby, and she changed her tone to match.

"I'm taking him upstairs now to change and feed him, but if you'd like, I'll have Hill bring him down when he is through."

"We'd like that, wouldn't we, boy?" said Mr. Bennet happily.

"In the future, Thomas, please let Hill or one of the girls know when you take him on an outing. You know how long we've waited for a son - I'm not as young as I used to be - my nerves can't take him disappearing like that again."

"I will Fanny, but you know, you're nerves can take much more than you think. They did very well for you, and me too, over these last few months."

"Perhaps, Mr. Bennet," she smiled, "but let's not put them to any more tests, shall we? They aren't as young as they used to be either."

"I don't know about your nerves, my dear, but I believe you are carrying the proof that we are both still young enough!" His wife, blushing sweetly, quickly left the room.

---

Chapter 13, Part II

For better or worse... Charlotte reminded herself of her wedding vows, ...and here is where the worst comes in. She pasted a false smile on her face and entered her husband's bookroom.

"My dear, I have had happy news today in a letter from my mother. Our cousin Mrs. Bennet gave birth to baby boy three days ago. Is that not wonderful?" Mr. Collins said nothing at first, he just stared at his wife as if she had spoken gibberish. After staring back at him expectantly for what seemed a very long time without getting a response, Charlotte added, "Mama writes that he is a bit small, as he came early, but otherwise seems quite healthy."

After another excruciatingly long pause, Mr. Collins blinked a few times, then finally appeared to comprehend what she had said.

"A - a boy? But - but - I was certain the Lord would grant my request that it be another girl. There must be some mistake..."

"I don't see how my mother could make a mistake about something like that."

"It - it is impossible that that woman would find favor over ... No! It can not be. Your mother is wrong. The Almighty would not allow such a thing to happen to me. I am an indispensable support to the most favored Lady Catherine De Bourgh; a shining example of righteousness for the humble inhabitants of Hunsford to model themselves after; I do His work diligently every day in this parish, and that puts me in good stead with Him. There has to have been a misunderstanding on your mother's part - that is what I shall believe until I hear otherwise. Now if you'll excuse me, my dear, I am going to Rosings, Lady Catherine may have need of me." He hurriedly left before his wife had anymore good news for him. He knew that he had to be right; he would just refuse to think anymore about any other such nonsense. In the end, his Charlotte would see that he would prevail.

Well, I've done my duty, Lord, Charlotte thought to her maker, as she watched her husband depart. Thank goodness one of us has some simple common sense. She went off to study her household accounts again to see what magic she could work. She had been anticipating a boy, for why should Mrs. Bennet be with child after so many years if not with an heir? Although a girl should have been just as likely, Charlotte had doubted that it would be so. In preparation she had cut back on expenses where she could and had managed to save a bit here and there over the last few months. She was sure that over the next 15 years or so she would be able to save enough for her purpose. Even if Longbourn were no longer in their future, her Rose would have a dowry, Charlotte would see to that.

A week later Mr. Collins received a letter in the post from Mr. Bennet himself, announcing the birth of his new son and heir Thomas Edward Bennet. He included a line, which Charlotte thought was especially for her benefit, assuring the Collins of the continued connection between their families, and that it could be depended upon in time of need.

That was little comfort to Mr. Collins. He could no longer pretend that his mother-in-law had been wrong about the child's gender. Although Charlotte gently reminded him that they should be happy for their cousins, Mr. Collins refused to hear her. He ranted for over an hour about the injustice of the world, the malicious nature of Mrs. Bennet in baring a boy instead of a girl, hinted that the woman must have been in league with the devil, exclaimed how he had never trusted the sincerity of Mr. Bennet's eyes nor anything he had ever said, and assured Charlotte how appalled Lady Catherine would be when she found out how very ill he had been used!

Later that day, when Lady Catherine failed to be enraged by his news and merely expressed surprise at Mr. Bennet finally begetting a son, Mr. Collins thought all was lost and took to his bed for a fortnight. As his appetite remained as healthy above stairs as it had below, Charlotte was confident that her husband was merely having a tantrum, and would come down in due time.

---

It was just after two o'clock in the morning when Mr. Bingley entered his wife's bedchamber and placed a tray of covered bowls before her. She was sitting up in bed and the tray came as close to her as her seven months pregnant tummy would allow.

"Oh, thank you Charles, I'm sorry to be such a bother," she said, putting down a letter she had been reading, then removing a cover from one of the two bowls.

"It was no trouble at all, darling. It's just - are you sure this is what you wanted?"

"Yes," she said shyly. "I'm ashamed to say that I've been dying for them for it seems ages." She uncovered the second bowl and gave her husband a grateful smile. He was so good to her.

"But are you sure? I mean, you had such a delicate stomach when we first found out you were with child - just the thought of some food would make you run for the nearest... Well, these two things - they don't exactly go together like... peaches and cream - if you know what I mean."

"Oh - but they do, Charles! They do! I just never realized it before!" She scooped a bit of plum pudding and added a slice of beetroot. Then popped the entire mélange into her mouth. "Mmmm!"

"Peaches and cream I can understand, but pickled beets and plum pudding?" Mr. Bingley grimaced and shook his head as he watched his wife pick up another pickled beet and a spoon of pudding.

"Delicious!" she exclaimed. "Oh, I'm sorry - would you like some?"

"Ahhh, no thank you Jane, I'll pass. By the way," he added, nodding toward the letter beside her, "What news from the Darcys? Have they returned from Newcastle yet?"

Jane wiped her fingers and mouth with a napkin. "Yes, they got back about a week ago, and Lizzy says Mr. Darcy misses my niece already. She wrote that it was amusing to watch Fitzwilliam and Mr. Wickham with the baby - when one would put little Alison down, the other would pick her up again. After a few days, she says even Lydia was scolding them to let the baby be!"

"That would be something to see - your little sister Lydia scolding Darcy! She sounds like quite the mother hen already."

"To be honest, before Lizzy's letter I was a bit worried that Lydia might not be ready for motherhood - I mean, I know I'm not ready for it..."

"You will be a wonderful mother, darling."

"Thank you, Charles, I hope so. But I am so much older, and I will have Mamá, Mary, and Kitty to help me - at least until we move in the spring. It seemed that once Lizzy left, poor Lydia would have no one to help her but Mr. Wickham."

Mr. Bingley began to make a face at the thought of Mr. Wickham helping Lydia do anything, but not wanting to distress his wife, especially in her present condition, he put on a pleasant smile instead and asked, "Did your sister mentioned something that put you at ease?"

"Yes. Apparently there is an older woman nearby - a major's wife - who has taken the younger officers' wives under her wing, sort of like a surrogate mother. Lizzy has met her and has a high opinion of her, thinks she is quite sensible, which is high praise from Lizzy. She or one of the other wives visits nearly every day to see if the new parents need any help. And since Lydia is such a poor correspondent, Lizzy asked Mrs. Blaine to let her know how the Wickhams are doing from time to time."

"That does sound reassuring. I am glad that we will have family nearby to help when your time comes - and don't forget, Louisa has promised to come and stay with us for a few weeks once the baby arrives."

Jane's smiled lost some of its sincerity as she replied, "It is so good of your sister to be willing to leave her husband for so long. We are both fortunate to have such a loving family."

They fell into silence for a moment, for although both young people had similar thoughts on that subject, they were kind enough to keep those thoughts to themselves.

---

Chapter 14

One morning Charlotte was surprised to learn from the kitchen maid that Mr. Collins had finally left his sick bed, had had his breakfast some time ago, and had already departed for Rosings. Happy that the man must have decided to make the best of it, Charlotte went on about her daily business, starting with seeing to the baby's needs.

Her own breakfast sat untouched as she attempted to feed Rose. Although her daughter did not usually object to eating her porridge, today she had just discovered that she could make some lovely patterns on the table if she could hit Mama's spoon just right.

"I guess you have had enough to eat, young lady," said Charlotte, putting the bowl out of reach. Instead of wiping the baby off right away, she adjusted Rose on her lap so she could play more easily with the porridge on the table. A few untidy minutes couldn't hurt, Charlotte reasoned.

While she watched her daughter develop some essential art skills, her husband returned - and apparently in a good mood, for he did not even notice the mess Rose was making.

"Good morning, Charlotte. And how is young Catherine today?" he asked happily.

Rose looked up. The Father man had actually spoken to her - at least she thought he did - it was hard to tell because he called her that Cat-Run name. Didn't he know that her name was Rose? Cat-Run was that loud lady that lived at Auntie's house.

"You seem in better spirits, dear," responded Charlotte. "Did Lady Catherine have good news to share with you?"

"Lady Catherine was kind enough to bestow on me many gems of wisdom this morning, for which I am extremely grateful; for anytime that great lady condescends to take notice of this poor clergyman, I am exceedingly delighted. However, as glad as I am to have been received by our patroness, I must confess that I owe the improvement of my spirits this morning to the enlightenment I received on the way home, which I am sure must have come from God Almighty Himself!"

Mr. Collins paused to give Charlotte an opportunity to give a small gasp, which he seemed to find in keeping with the occasion, then continued.

"Moments ago, as I was contemplating our sorry plight - a plight I have reflected much on these last few weeks, a plight which those unscrupulous Bennets have left us in - truly a most pitiable state..."

"Yes..." Charlotte prompted. Rose went back to playing with the porridge, she was used to her father's droning.

"As I thought of how wretchedly I had been used, I recalled again how careless my cousin Bennet and his wife have been in raising their five daughters."

"Mr. Collins, you really should not say such things of our cousins," cautioned Charlotte.

"You said as much yourself, my dear."

"I most certainly did not!" Rose looked up again - this could be interesting; it sounded like the Father man was being naughty and Mama was scolding him.

"You spoke only the truth, Charlotte, and as such, it is nothing to be ashamed of."

"I would never speak so ill of my good friends!" she insisted.

"But you did - when that youngest chit of a daughter of theirs ran off with that soldier last year, I distinctly remember you saying that her licentious behavior had proceeded from a faulty degree of indulgence."

"That is what my mother wrote to us - I was reading to you from her letter!"

"Well, it makes no difference, for it was the truth." The Father man was going to be in BIG trouble now - he wasn't listening to Mama.

"As I was saying," he continued, "I thought of how the Bennets would fare no better in raising this new son of theirs than they had with the daughters, and what a sorry childhood he could expect." Charlotte opened her mouth to object to husband's unkind words, but he left her no room to interrupt. "That put me in mind of something that her ladyship had mentioned at Rosings this morning. She generously cautioned me to instruct you to keep our young Catherine safe from chills this winter, reminding me of the many infants that perished last year."

"Yes," said Charlotte sadly, "the Newton and Patterson babies from fever, and the Delver toddler from whooping cough. But our Rose is such a healthy baby, and I'm sure we can keep her safe..."

"Lady Catherine was even kind enough to recommend a number of ways to eliminate drafts from the parsonage windows. She said if we made a paste of..."

"Mr. Collins, you said she put you in mind of..." Charlotte succeeded in interrupting. As much as she did not like the direction this conversation was taking, she had heard enough of Lady Catherine's helpful household hints first hand; she certainly did not need to hear them by way of her husband, too.

"Well, as I reflected on those poor, lost souls, a thought occurred to me - one that must have proceeded from the Almighty Himself, for a simple clergyman such as myself would never presume to think such a profound and ..."

"You were saying a thought occurred to you..." prompted Charlotte again, wishing he would get to the point.

"Yes, it occurred to me how fragile and uncertain a young child's life is in this world, more so with a frail, tiny baby with negligent parents like the Bennet lad. His chances of survival are greatly reduced."

"Mr. Collins - what are you saying!" Charlotte was appalled at her husband's implication.

"It occurred to me, my dear Charlotte, that the Lord may not have abandoned us, that we may still have a very good chance of ending up with Longbourn after all!"

"What an awful thing to say!"

He's done it now! thought Rose, Mama is REALLY mad!

"Nonsense - I speak only of possibilities. You said yourself that the child was on the small side - he may not grow healthy and plump like our little Catherine here. Small babies tend to be sickly - sickly babies tend to die early. Even if he does survive past infancy, accidents happen all the time - an unsupervised and likely reckless boy is apt to get into all kinds of trouble - a fall from a tree, a misstep in a stream, hunting accidents... "

"Mr. Collins! You must stop this talk!"

"I'm only thinking of our children, my dear. It is not at all unlikely that one day our Catherine shall live at Longbourn after all, as we all were meant to."

Charlotte was saved from answering by the maid, who announced that the carriage from Rosings had arrived for her. Charlotte, grateful to end such an unholy conversation, wiped off Rose's messy hands and face, took off her bib and began putting on her coat, which was in a basket nearby.

"Aren't you going to finish your breakfast?" asked Mr. Collins.

"No, I've lost my appetite," Charlotte said shortly. "Besides, Rose and I are leaving - Anne is expecting us."

"Oh yes, don't keep Miss De Bourgh waiting. And please give her my most humble regards. Well, there is no use in letting good food go to waste," he continued, pulling Charlotte's still untouched plate towards him and beginning his second breakfast. He had his faith back, God was in His heaven, and all would be right with his world.

"Say good-bye to Father, Rose," sniffed Charlotte, still angry at her husband's audacity, but determined to be civil and dignified even if he were not.

Rose dutifully brought her hand up and down in her newly learned trick of waving bye-bye.

"How long has she been doing that?" asked Mr. Collins in amazement, but still with a mouthful of food. He normally did not pay much attention to his daughter, thinking of her more as a creature of little significance rather than a true person. But if she was finally beginning to act like a real person, he thought, perhaps it was time that he gave the child some notice.

"For a week now," Charlotte answered. "She's very proud of it."

"As well she should be. Good-bye Catherine." Mr. Collins gave his daughter a small wave and the first real smile she had ever seen on him.

Hmmmm, thought Rose, This Father man did not seem so bad after all. He smiled and waved at her today. Of course he did call her Cat-Run again, but at least he seemed to be trying now. Rose smiled and waved back at him even harder as her Mama carried her out the door.

That image of her father stayed with Rose for a long time; it was the last image she ever had of him. Forty-five minutes later, the kitchen maid found Mr. Collins dead at the breakfast table, choked to death on braised kidneys.

---

Chapter 15

"Are you sure the staff in Town knows you are coming?" Mrs. Bennet asked Mr. Bennet.

"Yes, I'm sure," he replied as he pulled on his greatcoat. "Lizzy wrote that they sent an express to their housekeeper in London to expect Mr. Bingley and me this afternoon; she and Darcy should be arriving later this evening. We shall all leave tomorrow morning for Hunsford. I wish it were over with - I hate funerals, and this one will be particularly painful."

"Yes, Mr. Collins was such a young man. Poor Charlotte. Her father and brothers left yesterday, you know?"

"All of her brothers?" Mr. Bennet asked in surprise.

"No, just the eldest five; the other two are too young to attend, of course. I was surprised Lady Lucas did not go as well. If it were me, I should have wanted to comfort one of my girls - but I suppose she feels she must make preparations for Charlotte's return. With the baby, she will need more room than she did before her marriage, not that there is much room to be had. Perhaps when her brother William marries, she will move in with him."

"That is not likely - Lizzy said they never got on."

"What has that to do with it? Family is family."

"Charlotte and her daughter are our family too, Mrs. Bennet."

"I have not forgotten that, Mr. Bennet; I am not unfeeling. It is her exact situation that I dreaded for myself and our girls for so many years - that you would die, we would be left penniless, and find ourselves in the hedgerows. If our situations were reversed, and Charlotte had had a boy and I another girl, I should still be living with that fear. How strangely things have turned out."

"And where are our girls, by the way? I thought it was a bit too quiet. Are they not to bid their father good-bye?"

"I sent them up ages ago to bring Thomas down, I don't know what could keeping them."

"Most likely a dirty nappy, and neither willing to change it." As if on cue, a commotion of an approaching argument between the two remaining Miss Bennets could be heard coming down the stairs.

"...but Mary, he has been smiling - for weeks now," insisted Kitty.

"Not really, Kitty, he only smiles in his sleep - and that doesn't count. Those are more like ... practice smiles," Mary replied knowingly. "Hill says when babies truly smile, they smile with their eyes. Thus far I have not seen his eyes open when he's looked like he was smiling - have you?"

"I'm sure he must have..."

"There - that proves it," Mary said smugly as she reached the bottom of the stairs. She was carrying the baby, with Kitty following right behind. "If he had really smiled, you would know for certain, isn't that right, Mamá?"

"Goodness, you girls argue over the silliest things! Your father has to be on his way to pick up Mr. Bingley at Netherfield. Now kiss him good-bye, and pass Thomas to him so your father may do the same to him."

"Good-bye, Papa," said Kitty.

"Please give our heartfelt condolences to Mrs. Collins."

"Thank you, Mary, I will." Mr. Bennet received a kiss from both daughters, then took Thomas from Mary and swung him up slightly before settling him in his arms. "There's my boy!"

"Mr. Bennet, do be careful!" admonished his wife. Ignoring her, he continued his one sided conversation with his son.

"Will you miss the old man while he's away? Or can't you wait to start running the place on your own?" The baby stared back at his father for a moment as if in thought, then his eyes brightened and the corners of his mouth twitched upward for an instant.

"There - did you see that?" asked Mr. Bennet excitedly.

"See what Papa?" asked Kitty.

"He just smiled at me!" exclaimed Mr. Bennet. He then proceeded to tickle his son on his chin, "Didn't you, boy? You smiled at your Papa, didn't you?" Encouraged by his father's touch, Thomas answered back by repeating his smile, this time holding it - with both his mouth and his eyes - for a full fifteen seconds; time enough for even the dubious Mary to affirm that it was a true smile.

"There, Mr. Bennet, you have claimed your son's first smile!" triumphed Mrs. Bennet, "What a nice parting gift."

"Yes, it was, and one I'm glad for - I needed something happy to take with me. But here is the carriage. Good-bye, boy," he said, kissing the child's head before handing him back to his wife. "Fanny, I expect to be returning with the Darcys in a week. I'm sure you'll have no trouble while I'm gone. If anything does come up, your brother Philips can handle it, or perhaps that handsome clerk of his - eh, Mary?"

"Father! Mr. Stewart and I are just casual acquaintances," she said with a blush.

"Yes, you looked very casual together at Aunt Philips' pianoforte' the other night," giggled Kitty. "Every time he turned the page for you, you turned as red as you are now!" The only response she got from Mary was a glare.

"Hush Kitty, don't begrudge your sister a beau, she's doing very well for herself, which is more than I can say for you at the moment." Kitty stomped her foot at her mother's reprimand, but said nothing more. "Now, Mr. Bennet, don't worry - we shall be fine - but do tell the coachman to mind his speed."

"I will, dear," he said, giving his wife a quick peck on the cheek, causing Kitty to forget her sulking and start to giggle again. "Good bye girls, mind your mother." With a wink to Kitty, and a wave to the others, he was gone.

Mrs. Hill was just coming into the front hall when the ladies re-entered the house.

"Oh Hill, Papa got Thomas' first smile. I so wanted it to be me," said Kitty, forgetting that a moment ago she had claimed that her brother had been smiling for weeks.

"Never mind, Miss, the young master will be blessing all of us with smiles in a day or two, you'll see." The two girls passed into the other room, with Mary requesting Kitty's advice on a new bonnet she was trimming. Mrs. Hill approached their mother, and in a hushed voice asked, "Mrs. Bennet, didn't I see young Thomas smile at you this morning - after you fed him?"

"Perhaps, Hill, but Mr. Bennet need not know," answered Mrs. Bennet.

Hill smiled in understanding. "Of course, Ma'am. No need to tell the men folk every little thing, is there?"

---

Chapter 16

The maid went to open the door; Charlotte cringed; she knew what was coming. More visitors wishing to give their condolences to the bereaved. More parishioners with pity in their eyes, asking each other in hushed voices what would become of the pastor's widow and child, left behind with no visible means of support, assuring each other that Lady Catherine would see to their needs - at least until the widow was packed off back to her father's house.

Charlotte did not think she could take much more of it. She had been numb for much of the last week, trying to keep worries at bay by tending to Rose. Anne had been a great help, deflecting her mother's interference in a direction that would be of most use. In fact, all funeral arrangements for Mr. Collins had been left in Lady Catherine's capable hands. Charlotte was comforted in the knowledge that that was the way he would have wanted it.

She looked up when the latest group was ushered into the parlor, then smiled her first smile in a week that had nothing to do with Rose - it was Lizzy. Of course Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bennet, and Mr. Bingley were with her, but seeing Lizzy made her feel somewhat like her old self again, not some poor widow woman to be pitied.

"Lizzy!" Charlotte exclaimed, giving her friend a hug, "I didn't expect you. I'm so glad to see you! Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bennet, Mr. Bingley, it is so good of you to come."

"Oh Charlotte, we are so sorry for your loss," Elizabeth said, returning the hug.

"Mrs. Collins - Charlotte," Mr. Bennet said, "You have my deepest sympathy. My wife, Mary, and Kitty send their condolences as well."

"Thank you Mr. Bennet."

"And please accept the condolences of Jane and myself," put in Mr. Bingley.

"Thank you Mr. Bingley. How is Mrs. Bingley? I hope she is fairing well."

"Tolerably so. Although she would never admit it, I fear my wife has been a bit uncomfortable lately. I am hoping when we return to Hertfordshire that Mrs. Darcy's visit will make the remaining month of her confinement more pleasant for her."

"I am sure she will, it is one of Lizzy's special talents," said Charlotte turning back to Elizabeth.

Sir William Lucas approached to greet his neighbors, bidding the gentlemen to the other side of the room to meet the new cleric. Mr. Darcy ignored him, preferring to stay in his wife's company. He bowed as his cousin Anne joined them, carrying Rose in her arms.

"Lizzy, I am sure you remember Miss De Bourgh. She has been my rock ever since it ..." Charlotte paused to compose herself. Elizabeth gave her friend's hand a squeeze in support.

"Mrs. Darcy, it is good to see you again, and you Fitzwilliam," Anne said quietly.

"Please call me Lizzy," replied Elizabeth.

"And you may call me Anne. We are cousins now, too," Anne said, receiving a smile from Mr. Darcy, the first she could ever recall him directing at her.

"This must be young Miss Collins," said Mr. Darcy.

"She is beautiful," exclaimed Elizabeth, reached out for the child. "May I hold her?" Rose buried her face in Anne's shoulder at the approach of the newcomer.

"I'm afraid she is a bit shy of strangers lately, Lizzy," apologized Charlotte. "With so many coming and going this week, she doesn't know what to make of it all."

"Oh, I understand. This must be so frightening for her."

Rose peeked out to get a quick look at the lady who tried to take her from Auntie and caught sight of a tall man behind the lady. Even though he smiled, he was no one that she had ever seen before - like most of the people who had been coming into the house these last few days, making noise and upsetting Mama. She buried her face back in Auntie's shoulder.

"It is alright, Rosie," Anne reassured her. "Mr. Darcy won't bite."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that, Miss Collins," Rose heard a familiar voice say. "I can recall him biting me on at least two occasions."

She looked up to see a man in a red coat. Rose remembered him - it was Kerna! He had visited them once before - right before Mama added that red Kerna-Fits-Will-Yum doll to the row of dolls on her basket. He was Auntie's friend with the nice nose. To the others' amazement, Rose smiled at Colonel Fitzwilliam and reached out for him. He took her from Anne and as soon as she had settled comfortably in his arms, she immediately began playing with his face.

"That's a surprise!" exclaimed Anne.

"Why? Miss Collins and I are old friends," stated the Colonel. "Aren't we Miss Collins?" Rose just smiled widely at her new plaything and stretched his left nostril.

"Well," confessed Charlotte, "lately the only gentleman that Rose will go to willingly is my brother Lewis - and then only after he had been here for an entire day and was constantly playing the fool for her."

"He is so cute when he does that," Anne whispered to Charlotte.

"Perhaps it is my nose rather than myself that she remembers," suggested the Colonel as Rose started pulling on his right nostril. Charlotte took that as a cue to pry her daughter from the poor man's face. Although the Colonel acted as though he did not mind the abuse the child was giving him, Charlotte could not help but think that it must hurt a bit.

Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled thoughtfully as the mother adjusted her child on her hip. Not many women could look so well in that position, but Charlotte seemed to brighten when her daughter was near. The Colonel quickly recollected himself, and why he had called.

"Forgive my intrusion, Mrs. Collins. When I heard the sad news of your husband's death, I had to come and offer my regrets - and see if I could be of any service to you and your daughter."

The joy Charlotte had felt at seeing so many of her old friends, and particularly a new one, dissipated as she recalled her situation and the reason for their visit. Although she would be the first to admit that she had never loved her husband, they had managed tolerably well together. She even thought she might miss him - but more for her daughter's sake than for her own; she already was missing the independence she had known as his wife. And she had to admit that she did feel slightly responsible for the man's untimely death - they had been her braised kidneys he had choked on after all. Reluctantly Charlotte switched back to reality. The change was not lost on the Colonel, who regretted being its cause, nor on Elizabeth, who still wondered at the easy way Rose had taken to the Colonel.

"Thank you for coming, Colonel Fitzwilliam. You are too kind, but Lady Catherine and my father seem to have everything in hand. We are to return to Lucas Lodge next week."

"So soon?" asked Anne. Charlotte smiled weakly and nodded. The Colonel frowned, something that also was not lost on Elizabeth. She determined to speak to her husband later that evening.

---

The next day while the gentlemen attended the funeral, Elizabeth kept Charlotte company.

"So you are returning to Hertfordshire?"

"Yes, I am moving back to Lucas Lodge, at least for a year. I hate to put more upon my parents, but Lewis has offered his room to Rose and me so we will be able to get out from under foot if need be. And I would like to think that I could be of some small help to Mother and Maria with the other children."

"I have no doubt that you will be Charlotte, but ... well, Fitzwilliam and I have talked. We would be happy if you and Rose would come and stay with us at Pemberley."

"It is kind of you to offer, Lizzy, but I would never dream of imposing..."

"Nonsense! Was I imposing when I stayed with you last year? Truth be told, I would dearly love your company. And at Pemberley you would be among friends - family really - surrounded by people that love you, yet there is ample space for you to find solitude if you need it, without having to worry about Rose."

"Lizzy, I appreciate the offer..."

"Charlotte, just consider it, please. I would so love it if when we return to Derbyshire in December you would come with us."

"I think it unlikely, but I will keep it in mind. Thank you, Lizzy."

---

"So your mother and cousin have made peace?" Charlotte asked Anne after the rest of the mourners had left.

"Yes, they talked for quite some time before the funeral, and you saw yourself how cordial she was to Mrs. Darcy - Lizzy," Anne tried shyly.

"Well, at least cordial for Aunt Catherine," put in Colonel Fitzwilliam.

Anne laughed in agreement. "She was on her best behavior, I think the worst is over. Perhaps now she will let me visit Georgiana in Derbyshire."

"That would be nice for you, Anne. It would do you good to travel more," commented Charlotte. She paused, wondering if she should say more, then added, "The Darcys have invited Rose and I to stay at Pemberley with them for a while."

Anne's face lit up with excitement. "Oh do, Charlotte!" she exclaimed, "Then I could visit you and Rosie as well."

"Yes, then I cou ... uhh ... Anne could visit you," agreed the Colonel, blushing at what he had nearly said. He knew himself well enough to know that he was attracted to Mrs. Collins - but the woman's husband was barely in the grave, for heavens sake! There was such a thing as propriety.

Charlotte indulged herself in a bit of wishful thinking, reading more into what the Colonel did not say than she knew she should, then remembered how newly widowed she was - prompting her to become extremely mortified with herself. She quickly said, "I do not plan on going. It was kind of them to ask, but I am sure they were just being polite. I doubt Mr. Darcy would appreciate the intrusion so early in his marriage."

"I know my cousin, Mrs. Collins. If he was not 100 percent sincere in his offer, it would not have been made," Colonel Fitzwilliam assured her. Charlotte smiled in gratitude of his support and found her eyes locked with his for quite a few heartbeats more than was appropriate. It was unsettling for both of them, although an experience that either would gladly repeat.

"What did you tell them?" asked Anne, bringing the attention of both back to the conversation.

"That I would consider it and let them know before they left Hertfordshire in December. However, I know I shall remain with my parents."

"I am sure you will do whatever is best, Mrs. Collins," said the Colonel. "But know that my cousin's offer is true and that you and your daughter will be more than welcome should you decide to journey to Pemberley."

Charlotte saw the truth in his eyes, and was caught by them again. She turned away quickly, afraid she would read more in them than her common sense told her was possible. The Colonel chose not to look away, but said a silent thank you to the dear departed for his fatal eating habits, promising in return to keep a close eye on his young family - a very hopeful eye.

---

Chapter 17

The housekeeper met the travelers at the door of the Darcys' London townhouse as soon as they arrived from Rosings.

"Mr. Bingley, an express has just come for you from Netherfield - within this very hour! It is time, Sir. Your wife..."

"Dear Jane!" interrupted Elizabeth.

"Oh, goodness me!" Mr. Bingley exclaimed. "Darcy, I must have your fastest horse!"

"Of course, Bingley, you are welcome to him," replied Mr. Darcy, nodding a silent command to a groom who appeared out of nowhere, then disappeared again. "But if you wait just a moment for fresh horses to be brought out, we can all go on to Hertfordshire together in the carriage."

"Yes Charles," agreed Mr. Bennet. "That sounds like an excellent idea to me."

"I'm sorry, sir, but cannot waste a moment, and it would be a punishment for me to sit and worry so long in a carriage. I must be off."

"I understand perfectly," said Darcy with a glance to his wife. "But do be careful, Charles. Try to make it to Netherfield in one piece. We will be there shortly."

In an instant he was gone on the best horse Mr. Darcy's London stable had to offer.

---

Mr. Bingley jumped off the horse, ran into the house and up the stairs. He met Kitty coming out of Jane's chamber.

"Mr. Bingley, they aren't done yet. I would not go in there now if I were you," she warned, trying to coax him back along the hall and downstairs where she knew proper gentlemen were expected to wait.

"Kitty, I have to be with Jane!" he said decisively. Nothing would keep him from his wife at a time like this. She needed him! He pushed past his sister-in-law and into the room - then time stood still.

He had burst in at the worst possible moment for a proper gentleman to burst into a birthing room. What he beheld was so overwhelming that he just stood frozen - watching, listening, and unable to move.

"Just a little more..." said the doctor.

Of course, in his youth Mr. Bingley had seen more than one litter of puppies come into the world.

"You are doing fine, Jane," encouraged Mary from one side of her.

And he had witnessed the birth of numerous horses in his time.

"One more push, Mrs. Bingley," pleaded the housekeeper from the other side.

But nothing had prepared him for this!

The sounds ...

"Eeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwwweeeeeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwhhhhhhooooooooooooooooooooooooooeeeeeeeeeeeeee..." voiced Jane delicately - or at least as delicately as one in her present state could voice - which, to be honest, really wasn't very delicately.

... the colors ...

"The head is out ..." murmured the doctor. "Hmmm - a tad on the blue side. No matter, that should pink up presently."

... the sheer un-dryness of the whole business!

"... and here's the rest! Whoa - brought a bit of a shower out with you, aye Little One?" the doctor asked the squirming shape that Mr. Bingley could not quite make out. "Now Polly will tend you while I tend your mother," he added softly handing the still unseen object carefully to the housekeeper, who briskly wrapped it in a cloth and rushed off to a side bureau.

"Oh, Jane - it's a girl!" exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. Mr. Bingley hadn't noticed that his mother-in-law was in the room before; she was standing somewhat behind the doctor holding a bundle of clean linen.

Then Mr. Bingley heard a sound that was totally unfamiliar to him, and yet very familiar. It started out similar to mewing, but not like any cat he had ever heard. It grew gradually higher in pitch and louder, finally leveling off into short lusty cries.

Still Mr. Bingley just stood there, trying to take it all in - until he felt a slight pressure behind his knees and found himself falling backwards onto a chair. Kitty had pushed one into him from behind.

"I tried to warn you," she said smugly.

"Is she alright?" he heard Jane ask anxiously.

"As right as my last," reassured the doctor, but Charles did not hear him; he did not even hear the baby's cry as it lessened - he heard only his wife's voice. He came to himself at last and quickly went to her side.

"Oh Jane, you were wonderful," he gushed, "I can't believe..."

"Mr. Bingley, you should not be here!" scolded Mrs. Bennet, grasping her pile of linen closer to her chest.

"It's alright, Mamá," said an exhausted Jane. "I am so happy you are home, Charles - and that you are here, with us." She paused and looked at her mother. "Mamá?" she asked hesitantly.

"Of course, dear," said Mrs. Bennet, answering the unasked question. She handed Charles the linens. "Mr. Bingley, may I present your heir."

Charles blinked at the bundle in his arms and it blinked back. A little red face stared up at him then with an intensity that Charles had never felt before. The only thought that came to him was how much this child resembled a wise old man. Then the babe closed its eyes and Charles instantly was holding the tiniest baby he had ever seen - much smaller than he remembered his little brother-in-law being - with just a hint of wispy strawberry blond hair.

"She - she is beautiful, Jane," he said in awe, never taking his eyes off the child.

"Yes, he is, Charles. That is your impatient son," corrected Jane softly, "who would not wait for his Papa."

Charles looked up in confusion as the smiling housekeeper handed a second bundle to Jane.

"Here," whispered Jane, looking lovingly at the child in her arms, "is our daughter - who did wait for her father so he could see her grand entrance. And you are right, Charles. She is beautiful."

"Two?" he asked dumbly.

"Yes," she answered. "Two."

Mr. Bingley again felt the pressure behind his knees and gratefully sat down in Kitty's chair again.

"Then that's the one I just saw ..."

"... come into the world? Yes Charles. Oh - she just opened her eyes and they are ... violet? Yes, they are not quite blue. Truly Charles, they are violet. I wonder wherever she came by those?" asked Jane in astonishment.

Early morning trips to the kitchen to fetch plum pudding came unbidden to Mr. Bingley's mind.

"And if I am not mistaken, Jane, that son of yours looks to be a red head," proclaimed Mrs. Bennet. "Do you know of any in your family, Mr. Bingley? Your grandfather or an uncle perhaps?"

He thought for a moment, then replied, "I think I recall my great uncle Melcomb being referred to as a redhead." But in his heart Mr. Bingley suspected the true blame lay with pickled beets.

"And what am I to call my new grandchildren?" queried his mother-in-law.

"Charles Christian," replied Jane, getting a silent confirmation from her husband.

"And the girl?"

Mr. Bingley looked at his daughter, then with adoration into the eyes of his wife. "She is a miniature of her mother and heaven sent. Janet Grace?" he tried. Jane blushed, but nodded her agreement.

There must be such a thing as a flock of angels thought Mr. Bingley contently as he surveyed his little family, for surely he had been blessed with one.