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B ennet sat in his library, his fingers steepled before him. Even though the babe was not officially expected for another month, his family’s life was soon to be turned upside down. And without doubt it would remain so, long after the infant arrived.

He sighed and climbed tiredly to his feet. This time, he was determined not to make the same mistakes as he had on previous occasions. This child — son or daughter — would not be spoiled or sheltered. This child would have its father as a constant presence in his — or her — life.

Bennet poured only a small amount of whisky, knowing it was rather early to begin drinking, given that there would be many guests arriving today, and he could hardly avoid partaking with his visitors.

Still, until someone arrived, perhaps he ought to look at his correspondence. He’d already been through it over the weeks, taking out the letters from Elizabeth, from his brother Gardiner and other people he wanted to hear from. These others had waited too long, he supposed.

He broke the seal on the first one, and adjusted his spectacles. Kitty’s school.

Dear Mr. Bennet

Thank you for the reply to our last. I can confirm that Mr. and Mrs. Longford have agreed their willingness to take Miss Catherine Bennet with them on their tour of the north country as a friend to their daughter.

We are pleased with the progress your daughter has made and are confident she will benefit from the educational opportunities the tour will involve, and also from the good example provided by Miss Longford and her parents.

You will no doubt hear from Miss Bennet yourself in the near future, and we understand she may be invited to undertake her first season with Miss Longford, depending on her behaviour over the next few months.

Bennet folded the letter and placed it under the paperweight on his desk. The duke would undoubtedly be glad to hear the news.

It was a pity the news was not so good from Lydia’s school. Bennet tightened his lips; he must also discuss with the duke what to do.

Undoubtedly the news of his wife’s loss of interest in Lydia had inflamed the situation with his youngest daughter, leading to the school’s suggestion that some financial inducement be provided to arrange a marriage with a suitable man who both lived far away and could also control her impulsive, foolish nature.

No, Bennet would not make the same mistake with this new child.

He would have to speak with the duke and Darcy. He doubted he could come up with enough funds to induce anyone to take responsibility for Lydia.

Then he would have to go to see her. Perhaps he could take Elizabeth with him. She’d be able to persuade Lydia in the same way she could persuade anyone, even the birds out of the very trees.

He glanced up; perhaps she would be here soon. She and Darcy had not stayed long yesterday, to allow Mrs. Bennet time to rest.

His eyes misted over as he remembered Elizabeth’s earliest years, those years when he believed that she was his daughter in all but birth. He remembered her joy, and the infectious happiness which could raise the spirits of all around her.

He was surprised he hadn’t divined that something was wrong with that impression; the fact that the Gardiners insisted in having her to stay far more often than they did Jane — and from her earliest years.

Perhaps he was glad he hadn’t realised. Those first fourteen years had been very sweet.

And now she had fully taken her place in society. She was married to a man who suited her admirably, and who loved her enough to treat her well and protect her. Bennet could not wish for anything more — except perhaps that she lived closer.

His library was now crowded with guests. The duke had arrived soon after Jane and Elizabeth with their respective husbands. Jane and Bingley had soon left the room to sit with her mother and Mary, and Bennet nodded at Elizabeth as she offered to pour the tea.

“Is it only for me?” she asked, looking round. “Are you having something rather more palatable?” Her laugh was musical, and, as always, rendered whatever she said as completely inoffensive.

“Looking at your papa’s expression, Elizabeth, perhaps we ought to retain our faculties a bit longer.” The duke sounded amused. “I believe there is a great deal to discuss.” He looked at his daughter. “Would you care to leave us to it, Elizabeth, and take the opportunity to speak to Mrs. Bennet?”

“Do you really think I’d not wish the opportunity to discover what you are all planning?” Elizabeth looked disbelieving, and Darcy laughed.

“I believe you would be hard put to make Elizabeth agree with you, sir.”

“Bennet is our host today,” the duke looked at him. “What say you, sir?”

Bennet raised his eyebrows. “I agree with both of you. And one of the matters we need to talk about would require her assistance, so, if you consent, I would like her to remain with us for the time being.”

“Thank you, Papa.” Elizabeth began pouring the tea.

He turned and looked at the duke. “Would you care to discuss the issues as you see them? Then I can tell you what other matters have arisen recently which I would value being able to discuss with you.”

“Very well.” The duke sat back and crossed his legs.

“As I understand it, at this particular time, our attention should be on the dangers of allowing Lady Catherine and Mr. Collins to appear at Longbourn and throw it into disarray and disturb Mrs. Bennet’s peace of mind.

As well, they must not be permitted to begin the slightest rumour that the child is a changeling, should it be a son. ”

Darcy nodded. “I agree. I do think, however, that my aunt might appear earlier than we suspect.”

“Can you confirm the date the child is expected?” The duke looked at Bennet, who glanced at the closed door and lowered his voice.

“I have put out a slightly inaccurate version of the facts to both the midwife and the apothecary, I am afraid. Therefore the official calculation is that the babe is not due for another month. However, I believe the birth will be within the next week or two.”

“Next week!” Elizabeth’s astonishment was complete.

Bennet raised his brows at her. “I know you don’t remember the previous occasions, Elizabeth, but I assure you that without this subterfuge, your mama would be in a state of collapse by now with the apprehension of her forthcoming trials.”

Darcy’s glance flickered at Elizabeth. “Perhaps we just need to acknowledge the date and move on.”

“Of course. What do you know of what your aunt is planning, Darcy? Will she demand entry here and accommodation?”

“I believe so. I have spoken to my uncle at length, but he appears unable to persuade her otherwise.” Darcy sat forward.

“However, if she believes the child is not due for another month, then we might need to plan for her arrival thinking she is in plenty of time, when this house is, in fact, busy with that actual event.”

Bennet grimaced. “I hope she does not distress my wife.”

Darcy looked around the room. “Firstly, we must agree that neither she or Collins has access to the house — or even the park. If we succeed there, then even her voice is unlikely to be heard by Mrs. Bennet. As for the rumour that the child might be a changeling boy, I believe you may need to have an outside verification of the fact that the child is indeed delivered of your wife.” He smiled thinly.

“It is unfortunate that the local lawyer is a relation of yours, so he will not be able to avoid accusations of a conflict of interest.” He laughed, unamused. “I think the local magistrate might do.”

The duke cut in incisively. “You make an eminently good point, Darcy.” He glanced at Bennet. “We ought to call Sir William now, and instruct him to be available at any time.”

Bennet nodded reluctantly. “I may have no choice in the matter, but it will be difficult to have him in the house at that time.” He laughed suddenly.

“At least I will not have to permit him in the bedchamber during the birth as the poor queen has had to.” Darcy’s reluctant smile warmed him.

His son-in-law’s normally impassive features made it hard work for Bennet to read the man’s feelings.

The duke looked up. “Excuse my thoughts, but I wonder if I might be permitted to look around the upstairs while Mrs. Bennet is with her family downstairs?”

Bennet nodded reluctantly. “Perhaps you could do so in the presence of Sir William as well as Elizabeth, Your Grace.”

Elizabeth rose to her feet. “Do you wish me to send for him, Papa?”

“Not yet, my dear.” Bennet glanced at the duke. “There are other matters we need to discuss before you leave us. One letter bears good news, the other less so, and I would be grateful of further assistance.”

“Lydia.” Elizabeth sat down heavily. “When I received her last letter, I thought there was something amiss.”

Bennet was pleased, however, when that very night, Mrs. Bennet had the last word. Young Thomas Bennet arrived swiftly and noisily into the world at three o’clock in the morning, barely allowing time for Sir William and the apothecary and midwife to be called first.

Bennet could not prevent the moisture in his eyes as he looked down at the son he’d been waiting for these five and twenty years.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Bennet.” He bent down and kissed her forehead. “You are amazing.”

His wife seemed to have grown in confidence within the last hour, though her expression was still almost disbelieving. “I’ve given you a son.”

“Just so, my dear. I hope all the worry was worth it.” Bennet glanced up at the clock. “I will go to write some letters with the news and tell the family.”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Bennet! And you must write to the terrible cousin of yours and tell him he will no longer take Longbourn.”

“I was thinking of family at Netherfield first, Mrs. Bennet. Jane and Elizabeth will wish to greet their little brother. As soon as the hour is suitable, then I will ask brother Phillips to write a properly legal letter.”