“Caroline, this is a marvel!” Darcy exclaimed, losing his usual formality in surprise. “How wise of you to create it larger, as it will fit well over his toddler bed. The colors are remarkable! Thank you, Caroline. We will treasure it always.”

Caroline was beaming, all the typical arrogance erased in the light of the Darcys’ praise. For one of the first times in all his years of acquaintance with her, it suddenly struck him how truly beautiful she was when her features were allowed to relax and light with an honest smile. Abruptly, the epiphany bolted through him that this is what his wife and friends saw in his countenance now as compared to the severe façade presented for most of his life. With a surge of emotion bordering on affection, he grasped one of Caroline’s hands and brought the fingers to his lips for a thankful kiss.

“Thank you, Caroline, from the bottom of my heart.” He spoke softly, the words reaching only the immediate bystanders. “Elizabeth and I will cherish this gift created from your heart. Our greatest wish is that someday we may be honored to return the gesture when you are blessed with the exalted joy of motherhood.”

Caroline’s mouth had fallen open, eyes misty as she gazed into Darcy’s shining visage, swallowing the lump formed with difficulty before murmuring, “You are welcome, Mr. Darcy.”

Kitty stepped into the slightly awkward tableau, handing her gift to Lizzy. “It is no big thing,” she stated apologetically, “but I did do all the work myself!”

Lizzy laughed. Of all the Bennet sisters, Jane and Mary were the only two who excelled and actually enjoyed working with needles in all the various methods. Lydia hated it the most, probably never finishing a project in all her life, but Kitty came second. Lizzy delighted in embroidery, as long as it was not too complicated a pattern, and found a relaxation in knitting, but that was it. Crocheting was out of the question and sewing she abhorred. Lizzy had noticed a calming of Kitty since Lydia’s departure and, upon rare occasion, observed her head bent over a hoop. If she had created a gift of any sort with her own hands, it would be a prize to be sure, no matter the caliber of craftsmanship.

As anticipated, the gown sewn and detailed by Kitty was not a masterpiece. But its beauty was in the simplicity of design, especially as compared to many of the fancy infant dresses thus far given. Constructed of plain white cotton with eyelet lace along the collar and sleeve edges, the gown itself was pure in its minimalism. Clearly, Kitty had devoted her skill and time to the embroidered border of the skirt. In painstakingly perfect stitches and every color imaginable, she had fabricated a flowing pattern of inch-high stick figure children at play: skipping rope, swinging, bouncing a ball, running, jumping, rolling a hoop, swatting a shuttlecock, tumbling, and blowing soap bubbles. It was playful, colorful, and utterly delightful.

“Oh, Kitty! I love it! The pattern is wonderful! I can imagine Alexander doing all these fun pastimes. Thank you so much!” Darcy thanked a blushing Kitty with a regal bow and courtly kiss to the fingers.

Hugs and kisses became rampant and enthusiastic as the family gifts were gradually unveiled. The men began to drift closer to the fray with sincere smiles of delight. The presents varied widely and reflected the personalities of the individuals involved. Silver implements abounded per tradition, with Alexander provided a wealth of eating utensils, porridge bowls, and cups. The Gardiners, Bennets, and Lady Catherine, as the eldest family members, especially adhered to the tradition of silver, each implement beautifully carved and shiny. Lord and Lady Matlock gifted a gorgeous silver and lapis lazuli inlaid brush and comb.

Anne and Raul sent the complete series of S. & J. Fuller paper doll books. These were instantly popular among the guests, and the precious books were passed from hand to hand with each adult reverting to childhood as the dolls were dressed and the story verses read aloud. Darcy finally confiscated the expensive books before “they are smudged and creased beyond Alexander being able to read them.”

Samuel and Marguerite kept to the theme of literature with both volumes of Ann and Jane Taylor’s Poems for Infant Minds, Rhymes for the Nursery, and Hymns for Infant Minds, signed to Alexander Darcy by the loyal personal servants. Not surprisingly, Mary and Mr. Daniels gifted a small white-dyed leather Bible and accompanied publication of inspirational quotations from spiritual writers.

Numerous gifts came from the servants, most of a simple nature such as the crocheted blanket with embroidered clusters of Sweet William from Phillips and his wife, but two stood out from the rest. Mr. Clark and the entire grounds-keeping staff presented Lizzy and Darcy formally with a three-year-old oak sapling, carefully cultivated in the orangery from an acorn harvested off the enormous oak marking the eastern boundary of the private garden.

Standing with grubby hat in hand, his staff crowded behind, Mr. Clark had nervously delivered his speech to the touched Darcys that afternoon in the Conservatory. “Reckoning how much you enjoy gardening, Mrs. Darcy, and as Pemberley for generations now has gained renown for her landscaping, we”—he swept the hat toward the shuffling gardeners—“figured a tree to mark the young Master’s birth was appropriate. It will grow with him, strong and enduring, so it had to be an oak. There is a perfect plot in the garden for it, with a few re-plantings come spring, but of course you can decide to plant it wherever you wish it to be.” The Darcys assured him that the private garden would be preferred, trusting to his expertise. Lizzy was so choked up she could barely speak, Darcy maintaining his equilibrium adequately enough to thank the groundskeeper and his excellent staff with the essential pomp and formality.

Mrs. Reynolds provided the final habiliments to the christening outfit with a superbly crafted bonnet of lace and satin, and tiny slippers of pliant kid leather sewn by her hand. She had produced both with Darcy’s christening gown in mind, keeping to the old-fashioned style and sparing no expense in purchasing fine Alençon lace similar to the original. The entire project was taken on faith, hoping that her Master and Mistress would choose her gift over the ones worn by Darcy. The finishing touch came from the Bingleys. As godparents, they added an elaborately carved stout silver cross pendant on an ebony and ruby beaded chain. The necklace was stunning, the fiery red and bold black a masculine contrast to the ruffles and lace. Darcy was elated.

Richard, typical man, went farther afield from the standard infant paraphernalia. His box was far and away the largest, too big to set into a lap. Rather, he deposited the hefty, and obviously heavy, unwrapped parcel onto the low table before Elizabeth. Grinning widely, he addressed Darcy and Lizzy, “I am well aware that this is not a customary christening gift, but then neither is the gift you bestowed upon your son, Darcy.”

Darcy raised a brow. “What are you referring to?”

Richard grinned further, glancing to Lizzy’s baffled face. “Surely you have informed your wife of the generous bequest awarded to your infant son?”

Lizzy started laughing. “Shame on you, Colonel, trying to cause your cousin trouble. Of course he told me about Wolfram. Asked my permission, if you must know, although I judge he would have finagled the transaction somehow whether I deemed it suitable or not. My only stipulation was that he forbids Alexander to ride a fully grown stallion until he can competently manage a pony.”

“Which will be by the time he is six or seven,” Darcy stated firmly, prideful assurance evident on his face. Lizzy merely shook her head, but Darcy was lost momentarily in dreamy visions of squiring his son about the corral. Horses never far from his thoughts upon any given day, it had occurred to him soon after Alexander’s birth that the year old colt Wolfram would be in the full bloom of his maturity when Alexander was ready to make the transition from pony to horse. Lizzy may not be thrilled with the idea of her son atop a feisty horse, but marriage to Darcy made it inevitable, so she had happily agreed to his desire to deed Wolfram to Alexander.

“In all honesty, Elizabeth, horses are as important to me as Darcy.” Lizzy smiled at that understatement, Richard continuing without pause, “I think Wolfram an excellent choice, but in the meantime, until he is strong enough to ride a full grown horse he will need to ride a pony. If I know my cousin he already has one of the Connemaras picked out for him.” He glanced at Darcy with a questioning grin, but Darcy merely pressed his lips together, his expression speaking volumes nonetheless. “So, with that in mind, I had this fashioned for my newest cousin by a leather maker named Anderson in London.”

Darcy was already whistling, familiar with the prestigious Anderson and his equestrian products, and standing with unveiled excitement to lay eyes on what he now suspected was in the box. He was correct. It was a pony-sized saddle crafted for dressage in the fashion of Gueriniere and included all necessary tack. Fine cowhide tanned and dyed a deep brown then polished and oiled until gleaming and supple. “Alexander” was stamped into each saddle flap in a stylized script with a shooting star bursting off the R’s final curve. The entire ensemble was exquisitely constructed.

“Along with this saddle ensemble, I vow to lend my superb horsemanship skills to teaching Alexander to be a superior rider. I am better than Darcy, so it only fitting I extend my expertise.”

Darcy merely grunted his disdain toward that statement, otherwise ignoring the grinning Richard for meticulous examination of the saddle. Collectively the men assembled for inspection, offering vastly superior interest over this one item to all the others combined.