Doctor Carter closed the door to Elizabeth’s bedchamber and entered her sitting room, where Darcy had been pacing in constant agitation for the last three quarters of an hour. Clearing his throat, the doctor said, “Other than a minor bump on her head, most likely from her fall in Hyde Park, your wife is perfectly healthy, Mr. Darcy. With any luck, everything will go smoothly, and there will hardly be any reason to worry for many months to come, but you had better accustom yourself to pacing, sir. You will find it to be the only thing you will be able to do once Mrs. Darcy’s time finally comes.”
Judging from the expression of alarm on his face, it was clear Darcy had no better understanding of Doctor Carter’s words than he had of Mrs. Gardiner’s. “I thought you just declared Mrs. Darcy to be in perfect health?” he asked.
The doctor observed him for a moment. “Mr. Darcy,” he said evenly, “may I inquire as to what knowledge you may have of your wife’s current condition?”
“I assure you, I have not the slightest knowledge of her condition. She has fainted twice today and has informed me she has been feeling faint periodically since Christmas. Surely that cannot be an indication of good health.”
Doctor Carter chuckled. “Sir, perhaps you should speak with your wife at this time. I assure you, Mrs. Darcy is feeling quite well—she is quite well—and is most likely anxious to inform you of her condition herself. If you find you are in any further need of my services, it will be my pleasure to attend you. Please feel free to summon me at any hour, day or night.” He placed his hat upon his head and said briskly, “Good day to you, sir,” before taking his leave.
Still ill at ease over the state of Elizabeth’s health, not to mention puzzled, he thanked the doctor, bid him a hasty farewell, and strode to the door to his wife’s bedchamber. He breathed deeply and ran his hands over his face several times before he finally turned the handle and entered. Elizabeth appeared to be lying peacefully upon the bed, wearing her nightshift and dressing gown. She smiled at him from the midst of a large pile of pillows and beckoned him to join her. He was at her side almost immediately.
“How are you feeling, my love?” he inquired, feathering a kiss upon her forehead as well as the hand he clasped almost violently in his. “Are you comfortable? Can I get you anything?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Have you spoken with Doctor Carter, Fitzwilliam?”
Darcy simply nodded and looked away, not trusting himself to speak.
“And?” she asked.
Her husband remained silent.
Elizabeth could not understand his solemn reaction—his complete lack of enthusiasm—to such wonderful, nay, such miraculous, news. Her smile faltered and then faded completely. “You are not pleased, then,” she whispered, a crushing burden of disappointment weighing upon her heart.
Darcy turned to look at her, a wealth of emotions flooding his eyes. He somehow managed to keep his composure as he muttered, “I wish only for you to be well, my love. That is truly the only thing that matters.”
She stared at him for a moment before she finally understood what he might be thinking. “Fitzwilliam,” she asked, her voice quiet, tentative, “you do understand that I am going to have a child and not apoplexy?”
He stared at her, his mouth literally falling open. “A child? You mean to tell me you are not… that you are only… that is to say…”
Darcy finally abandoned his attempts at verbal communication in favor of running the back of his hand over his mouth for several moments. Elizabeth watched with growing amusement as his agitation seemed to increase to what she suspected to be an almost intolerable proportion. At long last, he blurted out, “You are with child? Elizabeth, you are completely certain of this?”
Elizabeth stroked his cheek with her fingers and smoothed a stray curl from his furrowed brow. “Yes,” she assured him. “Of course, we will not know for certain until the baby quickens, but Doctor Carter is fairly sure I am, though only in the very early stages, and I believe my aunt also shares his opinion.”
Relief flooded his features and Darcy placed a kiss upon her temple before he buried his face in her hair. “Thank God,” he murmured, his voice strained with emotion.
Elizabeth held him close. “My dearest,” she said, her tone soft and soothing, “I promise you, all is well. Doctor Carter has assured me many women experience similar symptoms and go through their confinements with very little or no difficulty at all. He does not anticipate my confinement to be any different and believes we shall have a healthy son or daughter to bring to Pemberley sometime in the middle of September.”
Darcy raised his head and cradled her face in his hands, searching her eyes for a long while. “Elizabeth,” he began, his voice quiet and filled with hesitation, “does it not frighten you? Even a little? Are you not scared?”
Suspecting he had been thinking of his mother, she shook her head and smiled. “No. I feel only happiness. This precious new life has begun from our love, Fitzwilliam. It is an extraordinary gift we have given one another, is it not?”
Not trusting himself to answer, Darcy responded in the only other way he knew, and leaned in to caress her lips so tenderly with his own that Elizabeth shivered before he had barely touched her. As the tension of the last several hours drained away, he began to relax with her, deepening his kisses until he felt her body responding to his touch. It was not what he had planned after such an emotionally draining afternoon, especially when he was still uncertain of whether or not the doctor had imposed any limitations upon her. Reluctantly, Darcy pulled away and shifted his position so he could recline beside her on the bed. He removed his boots and covered them both with the counterpane. Elizabeth snuggled against him as he enfolded her in his arms, placing several kisses in her hair as he diligently proceeded to remove each pin. They lay quietly together for a long time, so long that both had begun to wonder whether the other had succumbed to slumber, but then Elizabeth heard Darcy ask, “Elizabeth, am I truly to become a father?”
Elizabeth shifted so she could look upon his face and smiled. “Yes, my dearest, you are going to be an excellent father.”
Darcy closed his eyes and tightened his arms around the woman he loved.
Elizabeth could see the corners of his mouth turn up in the barest hint of a pleased smile. “I love you, Elizabeth, more than I could ever express to you with mere words.”
Elizabeth’s smile grew wider. “As I love you, Fitzwilliam.” They soon drifted off to sleep, their repose being sound and filled with contentment, dreaming of the new life that had begun from their love.
Chapter 24
The Darcys were at breakfast several mornings later when the post arrived. A delighted smile spread across Elizabeth’s face as she plucked from the elegant silver tray held by one of the servants a thick letter addressed to her in a familiar hand. “What brings you so much pleasure, Mrs. Darcy?” her husband inquired.
“It is a letter from Charlotte.”
“Ah, yes. Miss Lucas. And what news does she send from Hertfordshire?”
Elizabeth broke the seal and began to read. “Oh dear,” she said after a few minutes. “She writes that her anticipated wedding to my odious cousin will take place at the end of next week. She says it is her dearest wish that we might attend.” She laid aside the missive and bit her lip as her husband scowled.