As he spoke he removed the robe, brushing and fondling over her body. With a fluid roll, she was on her back, spread before him in all her naked glory, his right arm supporting him. “William, your arm… we should stay upright.” He halted her words with a sensual kiss, left hand traveling with deliberate patience over her abdomen. Lizzy's massaging had done wonders. His arm was warmer and stronger, his amazingly masterful touch not the least bit diminished as was abundantly established in the following minutes.

Darcy watched her face, reveling in her passion and the transcendent beauty of her whole countenance. Lord, she was gorgeous! Observing her joy as accomplished through him was astoundingly erotic and stimulating, his love for her flourishing to a level of near agony in its intensity. As they made love, Darcy could feel the small swell of their child against his abdomen and it excited him tremendously. The blessed creation of their love pressing into him was an aphrodisiac. Their firstborn safe and secure, growing in the womb of his beloved wife thrilled him immeasurably. His release was like a surging tide, rushing over and through every cell of his body as a cleansing, refreshing wave, cries of delight rumbling out of his mouth in a gush of profoundly expressed love.

Darcy collapsed with a prolonged groan and ragged inhalation, barely rolling to Lizzy's side. With one arm and leg heavily draped over her, he grated her name and promptly fell into an exhausted sleep. Lizzy smiled, transferred the dead weight of his arm off her breasts, and then stared at him for very long while. She caressed tenderly, fingering through silky hair, inhaling deeply of his scent, in all ways satisfied and complete. Her husband was home… home not being Darcy House, but next to her and inside her soul. Smiling dreamily, Lizzy too fell asleep.

Lizzy woke refreshed and crushed under the immovable weight of her near comatose husband. Darcy had not budged an inch, respirations deep and regular as he slept. She kissed his shoulder then wiggled from under his limbs, physical necessities demanding haste. Upon reentering the bedchamber, she saw Darcy had yet to move. For another two hours Lizzy sat propped next to his warm, slumbering body, intermittently reading and staring at him. The lunch hour had long since passed when a famished Lizzy decided it was time to wake him, the baby's demand for nourishment coupled with the desire to hear his voice overcoming her sympathy.

She called for a tray of fruit and bread and a bottle of wine, and then returned to his side. Planting gentle kisses over shoulders and back, she whispered his name until he stirred. “Beloved, I am perishing from hunger but wish to eat with you.” He groaned, moving sluggishly and grimacing with discomfort. “Easy, love,” she whispered, “let me loosen your muscles.” She firmly kneaded the tightness across his back, palpating knots in both shoulders. Applying guarded attention to his left arm, he sighed in relief and it was clear that the rejuvenation was markedly improved.

“I had an interesting dream one night while you were away,” she began.

“Only one? I had dozens of interesting dreams every night, lover mine,” he said, opening one eye and grinning.

Lizzy laughed and slapped his back. “I am not referring to those dreams, Mr. Darcy. This was so vivid, as if a premonition or message. We were at Pemberley, and there was snow falling. I walked through your mother's rooms, now decorated as I have imagined them, on into the nursery. It was warm and cheery, painted a muted blue and yellow. An enormous cradle of oak sat in the corner with pillows of white linen and lace. You sat beside in a rocking chair with a small bundle held in your arms. I knew instantly it was our baby wrapped with blankets, although I could not see the face. You were crying tears of joy, your face resplendent with contentment, your broad hands securely nestling the infant's head and back.” Darcy had turned onto his side and was observing his wife's dreamy face, envisioning the scene flawlessly as she described it. “You looked up at me with a luminous smile and amazing pride. Then you said, ‘Elizabeth, he is so beautiful. Alexander, as we wished, shall be his name.’”

Lizzy gazed lovingly at her spouse. “It was so real, William. I woke immediately and he was fluttering crazily, so much so that I could almost feel him with my hand. I knew, I do know, as surely as I know my love for you, that this child is a boy. Does this sound insane?”

He sat up, requiring her assistance, and tenderly stroked her cheek. “Alexander is one of my names, as you know, but there are two facts of which you are unaware. Alexander is the name of the boy in the portrait of the first Darcys from the 1400s, the one who so resembles me as a youth. It is a family name that has materialized frequently, both in males and females, over the generations. I was gifted the name after my father's younger brother, who died at the age of twelve. My father had been extremely devoted to that Alexander, and I grew up hearing stories of this namesake whom I had never met. I always liked the name, not simply because of my uncle, but because it is a pleasing name. Strong, the name of a king, and can be shortened if necessary without sounding idiotic, like Fitz, which I abhor, or Will.” He kissed her gently. “I do not know if it was a message or a premonition, my love, but I can tell you that I have always desired my son to be named Alexander and we have never discussed this. So, I do not believe you insane.” He smiled, kissing her again. “I presume, therefore, that the Christian name has been unanimously decided?”

Lizzy laughed and nodded, hugging cautiously. “By the way, who on earth calls you Fitz?”

“No one more than once, I can assure you. Now, how about some lunch?”

They ate in the sitting room, contentedly snuggled on the sofa, conversing about general topics with laughter and effortless ease. Lizzy excused herself briefly, the need to utilize the water closet frequent. Darcy stood by the window when she returned and she encircled his waist, laying her head between his shoulder blades while he clasped her hands. They stood for a time in silence.

“William, I have something to tell you that I have avoided. Forgive me for evasiveness or concealment, but I feared your anger and disappointment spoiling our reunion. However, I cannot equivocate any longer. Lady Catherine came here on the day you left and… spoke with me. It was… unpleasant.”

Darcy turned and embraced her tightly, voice heavy with emotion when he replied, “I am aware of it, dearest. Lord Matlock wrote me, although not until the day of my accident.” He cupped her surprised face, eyes mournful. “Elizabeth, can you ever forgive me for not being here? I swear, I never thought she would do this. I thought time would have mellowed her opinion and when I wrote to her about our blessed news I imagined she would be thrilled for me. It is inconceivable that she did this, but more so that I abandoned you. Please, I beg you, forgive me for not protecting you and so foolishly assuming she would behave as a proper lady.”

Lizzy was shaking her head, tears springing to her eyes. “Oh William! It is I who should be begging your pardon!” She pulled away and began pacing, Darcy watching her in confusion.

“Elizabeth, I do not understand.”

Lizzy sighed. “She said so many things that were simply inane: accusing me of marrying you for your money, intimating that a Bennet could not birth a boy, saying that I was forcing you to harbor secrets from her and encouraging the rift, and other nonsense.” Lizzy glanced up at his darkening face then quickly looked away, flushing with shame. “She also talked about the lack of invitations as if she knew and how your social standing and the Darcy name had been hurt by marrying me.”

“Elizabeth, surely you lent no credence to that absurdity?”

“Not at first, no. Yet, I wondered. I remembered what you had said when you first proposed, about my rank and circumstances. She was right about the lack of invitations, and I know so little about your world and the requirements. I hated that I may have caused you pain or difficulties, even though I could not have done differently than to marry you. Then, Madeline told me that you knew about Lady Catherine's knowledge of my pregnancy, and I…” she caught her breath with a sob, “was angry and confused and hurt. It made perfect sense that she would attack me, hating me as she does and I thought… you should have…” she covered her face with her hands, collapsing onto the chaise in tears.