For a second, just the barest second, the old dominant arrogance flared and he thought, Who cares what Elizabeth thinks? I am his father, after all! However, this treasonous thought was rapidly smothered. Instead, he paced in the corridor for quite some time while running over the various ways to broach the topic and make it palatable to his non-horse-loving wife. In the end he threw up his hands, literally, and just decided to be honest. This approach worked the best in the majority of situations anyway.
Luckily he found Lizzy in the nursery actively nursing their days-old baby and wearing the beautifully wistful expression dominant when Alexander was at her breast. At moments like this he could probably sell her on anything! For a spell he lost himself to the identical exalted abstraction, forgetting why he had come in the joy of gazing at his son, but eventually rational memory reasserted itself.
“Dearest, I came here specifically to ask your opinion on a matter that I have been contemplating. It will come as no surprise to you, of course, to hear that my greatest hope is that Alexander, as well as all our children, would inherit my love of horses and riding.”
“I doubt if that will be an issue to worry over.”
Darcy smiled. “Well, I do pray for the desire to be imbedded in his soul as it always was in mine, but I do not wish to be presumptuous. However, with that supposition in mind I have an urge to gift Alexander a horse, but not just any horse. Wolfram is who I am thinking of. He was born on the very night that you came here as my wife, you have bonded with him to a degree, and as the offspring of Parsifal I know he is of the very best lineage and dear to me.” He shrugged. “The latter reasoning is merely sentimental on my part, but there it is.”
Lizzy was smiling softly, but her eyes were slightly disturbed. “I think it a lovely idea, but will not Wolfram be too old for Alexander to ride?”
Darcy laughed at her ignorance. “Oh no! A well cared for, sturdy thoroughbred can live for twenty-five to thirty years easily, often more although not ridable in its seniority. Wolfram will be in his prime when Alexander transitions from pony to horse. They will have years together. My first stallion, Pericles, was given me by my grandfather when I was nine and I rode him exclusively until I was twenty-one. He was my friend and loyal companion. He only died four years ago, but could no longer run as fast as I wished nor jump fences. Parsifal was of Pericles's lineage, his grandson actually, but still a colt. Nonetheless, I was in love. I rode various horses for a couple years until he was mature enough to carry my bulk in the demanding way I required.” He laughed, closing his eyes in memory. “Mr. Thurber was nigh on to throttling me I think as I haunted the stables incessantly. He was new to the position of head groomsman and not yet familiar with my personal involvement. He grew accustomed to me in time. Anyway, I insisted on caring for Parsifal myself, no one else was to break him or train him or ride him, ever.” He looked at Lizzy with serious eyes, one finger stroking over Alexander's cheek absently. “The relationship between a man and his horse can be a strong bond, Elizabeth. I want Alexander to experience that if possible. As for Wolfram, he is a special horse and will be perfect for our son until he is an adult and can pick a replacement as I did. Does this meet with your approval?”
Lizzy nodded, but her eyes were yet mildly troubled. Darcy chuckled, bending to bestow a light kiss. “I can read your thoughts, Mrs. Darcy. Have no fear. I will not be trudging through the snow with our fragile infant in my arms to be introduced to his future steed.” He kissed her again and then kissed Alexander's hand before rising to leave. “Spring will be soon enough!” And with that final declaration and a roguish grin, he departed.
The proper documents were signed and notarized, ownership of one Wolfram deeded to Alexander Darcy of Pemberley. The new owner was unimpressed, not even opening his eyes when a proud father informed him of the transfer.
The first week passed blissfully. Alexander settled into a fairly regular routine, eating every three to four hours on the button all through the day, filling his belly to satiation finally enough to sleep for roughly five to six hours through the night. His parents had no comparison, but felt that he was overall a temperate baby. He assuredly had a temper, primarily displayed when he was hungry and when the, in his opinion, time-consuming silliness of diaper changing took precedence over his empty stomach. However, the very second the exposed nipple came within range of his seeking mouth, serenity and happiness as well as blessed silence descended. Once sated, generally handed to a waiting father for burping, Alexander was bonelessly lax.
“He is rather reminiscent of an inebriated person, limbs useless with eyes rolled backward and mouth widely open,” Darcy stated with a warm chuckle. “Drunk on milk, my precious?” He held his son on his shoulder, garments well protected with a cloth after lessons learned previously much to Samuel's dismay, gently patting his back. The spellbound father swayed slowly, wisely not wishing to churn a stomach full of milk, wiping the corners of the infant's mouth where remnants of his meal pooled. Alexander released a satisfied burp and slept on. “There's a good boy. Such a strong lad you are, yes. So sweet you are, my little love, Papa's little man.”
His tender murmurings continued. Lizzy observed with a smile from the rocking chair while reclasping her dress and adjusting her bosoms for comfort. Now that her milk production was fully established, Lizzy discovered the painful reality of a heavy breast, quite obviously not an issue ever encountered in her life! During her pregnancy the increased ampleness of her bosom, although extreme compared to her pre-gravid state, was far from the generous volume gifted to seemingly the majority of women. The normal application of gathers and inset stays to her gowns was more than adequate to support her altered physique. This was not the case now. Lizzy was frankly shocked at the affect of lactation on the size of her breasts, easily double her pregnant mass. The strain placed on her thin shoulder and chest muscles was considerable.
Luckily Mrs. Hanford had some experience in this matter. The nanny was not an overly large woman, and although beefier than Lizzy it was clear that there were similarities in bust to frame ratios. Sweetly and tactfully, she had approached her mistress with suggestions prior to Alexander's birth. An appeal to Madame du Loire had yielded an abundance of specifically designed gowns and stays for a nursing woman. The undergarments were fairly comfortable, prettily detailed, constructed of silky fabrics, and aided in restoring tone to her abdomen, but primarily it was the relief in having a support for her weighty breasts that was appreciated.
Darcy had extended no specific comments regarding his wife's lushly endowed bust line, but his eyes betrayed his thoughts. Obviously making love to her was out of the question for the time being, Darcy far too content overall to lament the necessary waiting, but his sleepy straying hands, which inevitably ended up cupping a breast, proved the train of his private musings. Watching Alexander nurse was elating for the delight in observing the natural activity of a healthy son, but also for the titillation of staring at her creamy bosom with imaginings running amok for when she was capable of resuming marital relations.
Darcy kissed the baby's head, sitting in the chair beside Lizzy and turning a radiant face to his equally radiant wife. “I do not think we shall hear a peep out of him for a while. He feels a bit heavier, have you noticed?”
“His cheeks are chubbier,” she said, brushing over the mentioned body part with a fingertip. “Considering how much he eats I am not surprised. I can feel the difference in my breasts when he finishes so I know he is adequately fed.” She laid her head onto Darcy's shoulder, sighing. “He is so beautiful. I never tire of gazing upon him. Did you read Papa's letter?”