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Darcy glanced up to see her smiling at him. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Elizabeth bit her lip, as if laughing inwardly at some private joke.

He stood and came closer, looking over her dress again and trying to determine if he had missed something. “Have I said anything amusing? This is one of your new gowns, is it not?”

She stepped forward and rested her hands upon his chest. “I am merely enjoying my very great fortune in marrying a man who likes to discuss ladies’ fashions and presses me to spend so much of his money on new frocks.”

Fitzwilliam’s chuckles joined her own, for both were well aware of how miserable he was made by Society ladies who could converse on no other topics than lace and sleeve lengths.

After some further teasing, Darcy encouraged her to inspect his bedchamber and dressing room, both of which she found quite pleasing.

Fitzwilliam was still dissatisfied by the idea that they had separate bedchambers, even if they had no plans to sleep separately.

“The floor plan that we conceived for our suite at Pemberley is far more sensible.”

“Yes, dearest, but as we agreed, the rooms at Pemberley are more flexible in their layout. Here, we would have to take out walls rather than just re-assigning their uses. Let us try it for a time, shall we? Besides, if my wardrobe continues to grow at its current pace, then my bedchamber shall soon be little more than an extension of my dressing room!”

Fitzwilliam considered this for a moment and then brightened. “Excellent—shall I take you shopping tomorrow, then?”

Amid much laughter, the pair finally departed his (their) bedchamber and made their way downstairs. Mrs. Wilkins was as good as her word and they were soon settled companionably in the library with tea and all the mail that had accumulated since the wedding.

Elizabeth put aside a letter from her mother with a grimace but eagerly opened a rather dirty envelope addressed in her eldest sister’s handwriting.

Darcy watched out of the corner of his eye as her expression shifted from pleasure to concern to amusement. When she reached the end of the letter and then turned back to reread some previous section, he gave in to curiosity. “And how are Mr. and Mrs. Bingley faring?”

Elizabeth looked up at him and rolled her eyes. “Well, they certainly are having an adventure, even if they have not yet seen much of France… or any of Paris for that matter!”

Fitzwilliam’s eyebrows shot up and he moved to sit at her side, already berating himself for not trying harder to discourage his friend from visiting France on his wedding trip, given the unstable politics on the continent.

Elizabeth caught a glimpse of his disquiet and touched his arm, “No need for such a grim demeanor, my love—nothing very terrible has happened. Their trip simply has… not gone precisely to plan.” She turned over the page so that he might read it from the beginning.

équihen-Plage, Calais

My dearest Lizzy,

I pray that this letter finds you and Mr. Darcy both well.

I know not when it will reach you, but I wanted to assure you that we have reached France safely, if not quite according to schedule.

As you know, we had intended to leave early on the morning after our wedding.

We were delayed slightly over breakfast when my mother brought our sisters and Aunt Phillips to visit…

Although Darcy did not say anything, he could not prevent making a small noise in his throat. Elizabeth merely rolled her eyes and commented, “I warned Jane that they would have no peace at Netherfield.”

Her husband wisely chose to hold his tongue and continue reading.

Fortunately, the roads were good and we were only slightly late in reaching the docks.

We were able to find rooms without too much trouble, despite the late hour.

The next morning, we found our ship and Captain MacLean greeted us personally—he had known Charles’ father and was glad to see my dear husband ‘all grown up.’ He was very kind and even had us for a cup of tea in his private quarters.

It is quite astonishing how these sailors take advantage of every last bit of space; the chairs folded down from the walls of his cabin and even the table was secured to the floor so that it would not slide around in rough seas.

I fear that we realized the advantage of such an arrangement almost immediately, for a storm came upon us as soon as the ship left the harbor.

I shall not go into detail except to say that it was quickly clear that both Charles and I are very sensitive to the motion of the waves.

Lizzy, I shall never be able to thank you enough for insisting that I take Madame Lavoisier’s niece as my maid.

Marie was the only one who did not become seasick and, indeed, looked after all of us, even Charles’ man.

The crossing took longer than usual because of the weather but we did eventually make land.

Somehow Marie got us all settled at an inn run by a very kind couple who even speak a little English.

Charles and I were both very weak when we arrived; unfortunately, we were barely recovered from the seasickness when we both fell ill with a slight fever.

Do not worry, Lizzy, for it is just a little cold and we are both recovering.

Madame Mesnier has us wrapped in blankets and sitting on a balcony in the afternoon sun; she is a great believer in fresh air as a cure (I believe you would like her!).

Her husband is a wonderful cook and has been stuffing us with all sorts of fish stews and pastries.

When we are well enough, the Mesniers have a cousin with an open carriage who shall take us on a tour of the countryside, including an old ruin that they say has been drawn by all the great painters.

Jane’s letter continued thus for several more paragraphs, describing the small happenings on the seaside below the Bingleys’ balcony and the plans they were making for when the couple was feeling well enough.

She closed with more reassurances that they were both feeling better by the day, that Lizzy and Mr. Darcy must not worry, and that they would certainly be returned to London in time to attend the Matlock ball.

Below Jane’s signature was a bit of chicken scratch that could only be attributed to Charles Bingley.

Darce—

Had a [blot] rough crossing but recovering in lovely little seaside village [blot blot]. Don’t worry—all’s well. [blot] not sure if we will make it to Paris, but [blot] enjoying ourselves nonetheless. Excellent food and wine [blot] Hurst would be jealous!

Yours etc.,

[blot] Bingley

Elizabeth could not help but chuckle at her husband’s face while he attempted to decipher the scrawl. “Your friend’s handwriting is certainly unique.”

Darcy was still trying to decide how concerned he should be, but her comment prompted a slight smile. “Indeed. It has always been so with Bingley; interpreting his scribble is a skill few achieve.” He studied his wife’s face carefully. “You don’t seem particularly worried.”

Elizabeth tilted her head and took back the letter to study an earlier section.

“Jane would tell me directly if they were in need of our help. Also, she is not one to lie about unless she is extremely ill, yet clearly this is not the letter of an invalid. I rather believe that she is enjoying the excuse to relax for a few days.”

Darcy wrinkled his brow. “But I thought that she was as eager as Bingley to see Paris?”

“Oh, she was… but the fact remains that Jane has born the brunt of our mother’s nerves for the past months and shall do so again when they return to Netherfield. I suspect she didn’t know how wonderful a few weeks of peace would be until it was forced upon her.”

While Darcy pondered this insight to his new sister-in-law’s disposition, Elizabeth turned her attention to another letter in her pile of mail. In short order she was exclaiming over a note from her Uncle Gardiner with such joy that Fitzwilliam promptly forgot about the Bingleys.

“Aunt Maddy has had her baby! A girl—a little early, to be sure, but my uncle says that both mother and child are healthy!”

Before he quite knew what was happening, Darcy found himself on the way to Gracechurch Street.

Unaccustomed to such easy familiarity among relatives, he insisted upon sending a note to the Gardiners before leaving Derwent House, though in truth the messenger arrived only minutes before the carriage.

It was soon obvious that there had been no need, for upon entering the Gardiners’ home the Darcys joined a motley company of friends who had stopped by with a similar goal of wishing the family joy.

After giving her uncle a tight hug, Elizabeth joined the ladies gathered around the chair where Madeleine Gardiner and her new daughter were comfortably ensconced.

Darcy spent more time congratulating Mr. Gardiner; the man looked exhausted but also brilliantly happy. “Ah, just you wait, young man… your turn will come sooner than you think, and then you shall know true bliss, to behold your wife and newborn babe!”

Fitzwilliam made appropriate noises but retreated to a corner when others came forward to congratulate Mr. Gardiner again.

Intellectually, Will knew that the man’s words were true, both in the probability that Elizabeth might come to be with child at any time, and also of the joy that he expected to feel at being a father…

so why did the thought fill him with terror?

“…a great responsibility, isn’t it, sir?”