So, with no fear whatsoever that she would grow bored or annoyed, he launched into his tale. “This entire region was once the Saxon kingdom of Mercia from the fifth to sixth centuries. To this day, buried artifacts and old foundations from that era are unearthed. It was in the seventh century when the Saxons were introduced to Christianity, with a subsequent slow infusion of Biblical teaching and ways supplanting the old. In Spondon, there is an ancient church with both Celtic and Christian markings. In fact, religion was so important to the superstitious common folk that churches sprang up everywhere. Most of the remaining buildings from those times are churches.”

Their first stop only a few miles outside of Derby was, not surprisingly, a church. The focal point of the small village of Chaddesden was the church dedicated to St. Mary the Virgin. The building was certainly not the grandest example of the genre, but many of the stones were ancient beyond dating, the foundations laid in a time so distant as to be forgotten. The main architecture dated from the 1300s and, aside from necessary restorations, was unaltered. Again, Lizzy and Darcy strolled through the hushed interior and then onto the grounds, leisurely admiring and absorbing the peace that infused such places before resuming their journey.

They traveled through the village of Spondon, where another ancient church resided. The current building was rebuilt in 1390 to replace a far older one destroyed by fire. This one named after Saint Werburgh, the seventh century daughter of King Wulfhere of Mercia who became the senior Abbess of Mercia. So famous was she that some seventeen churches were dedicated to her throughout England. The little village sat on a hill offering a beautiful view of the encompassing Trent valley, including Derby itself a mere four miles away. Darcy and Lizzy paused to enjoy the panorama, sipping fruit juice contentedly in the relative silence of the sleepy town before continuing their quest.

They passed through Ockbrook, not pausing to inspect the church there, turning vaguely south until reaching Long Eaton on the northern banks of the River Trent. They halted here for a brief stretch of their legs and light repast on the banks of the river. Reclining on a blanket, watching the ducks paddling and fish leaping, they talked and ate. Although Lizzy seemed completely unaffected by her pregnancy, stamina and bodily functions all within normal limits, Darcy fretted. The book and Dr. Darcy clearly listed muscle strain, backaches, fatigue, and benign uterine contractions as frequently occurring during the latter months of confinement, even to the degree of causing early labor or bleeding. For this reason, as well as the delight of a leisurely pace to better inspect the countryside, Darcy did not want to move too fast or venture a prolonged excursion abroad.

The capstone of the day's expedition was Wollaton Hall near Radford in Nottinghamshire. This sixteenth-century masterpiece was reputed to be one of the most amazing manors in all of England. Darcy had long wanted to view it, but during his previous trips into Nottinghamshire he had taken a northeasterly route, which had precluded a visitation.

“Is Wollaton Hall grander than Pemberley?” Lizzy inquired with a teasing smile.

Darcy glanced at her face with a laugh. “Despite Miss Bingley's assertion that Pemberley is the grandest manor in all of England, and my own prejudice and pride regarding my ancestral home notwithstanding, I cannot in truth proclaim that it is the largest, most ornate, architecturally unique, or historically interesting specimen. Certainly not in all of the extensive kingdom, although I will affirm it the finest in all of Derbyshire. Or perhaps that is merely my arrogance shining through!”

Lizzy lifted her brows in mock shock. “You arrogant? How absurd.”

Darcy elbowed her side with a chuckle, continuing undeterred, “Be that as it may, we are now officially in Nottinghamshire, so I feel no sense of disloyalty if I am awestruck by another house.”

The crossing into the bordering shire was unremarkable. There were no road signs or change in scenery to indicate the passage. They drove on through several small hamlets, most no larger than a pub, and three or four shops, and crossed two small rivers before finally entering the deer park surrounding Wollaton Hall. The massive house was easily visible from far away, a truly impressive example of Tudor structural design with spires, towers, gables, carvings, and niches. Lizzy's breath caught and Darcy's regulated mien of complacency slipped slightly. The house truly was magnificent.

“Do you know the owner?” Lizzy asked in a stunned whisper.

Darcy nodded. “We are not intimates, but I have socialized with Lord Middleton on a handful of occasions. His wife delivered an heir this spring, which is why they were not in London for the season; otherwise, I am sure you would have met him yourself. He is a pleasant man, a few years older than me I am guessing.”

They alit some distance from the house, planning to merely walk about the grounds and admire. However, in one of those odd twists of fate which occur from time to time, one of the groundsmen spied them and recognized Darcy of Pemberley because the groundsman's sister happened to be a maid at Pemberley. Word traveled and within fifteen minutes of arriving, the housekeeper approached Darcy and Lizzy where they stood amid some shady trees.

“Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, I believe?” She asked with a curtsey. Darcy was surprised but hid it well with a formal bow and confirmation. “My Lord Middleton requests the honor of your presence, sir, and Mrs. Darcy as well, if it is not too inconvenient?” Naturally, they could not refuse, in truth the idea of seeing the inside of the manor quite appealing.

The Baron of Middleton greeted Darcy like an old and dear friend. “Mr. Darcy! What a delightful surprise. You must explain what business or pleasure brings you so far from Pemberley. But first, please introduce me to your wife.”

What followed was an unplanned but in all ways pleasant noontime visit with Lord and Lady Middleton of Wollaton Hall. Luncheon of a substantially improved cuisine than the snacks packed in their carriage was shared by the four, and conversation was gay. Lizzy had little in common with the rather mousy Lady Middleton except for motherhood, a topic her ladyship delighted in sharing. They did embark on a thorough tour of the manor, Lord Middleton intricately familiar with the array of structural oddities, art, and history, a subject riveting to Darcy, so the two men had an endless host of discussion pieces.

Finally pulling themselves away from their impromptu hosts, the Darcys resumed their journey. They were a bit behind schedule, but neither regretted the delay at Wollaton. Turning northwest, extending the loop toward Derby, they sedately traveled the five miles to Ilkeston. The moderate sized mining town naturally sported an old church, another dedicated to the Virgin Mary, built in 1150 with a noteworthy clock tower and effigy to the most powerful ancient Lord of Ilkeston, Nicholas de Cantelupe from the fourteenth century.

Again, they paused to wander about the prosperous town. Several shops interested Lizzy, the weaving of fine hosiery being an Ilkeston specialty. However, by four o’clock they were weary and ready to finalize their journey. The seven miles to Locknell Hall passed easily, the Darcys arriving to joyous enthusiasm from Chloe Drury and a more sedate greeting from her husband, Clifton. Thereafter followed another block of time spent in engaging company, even Darcy and Clifton enjoying themselves with billiards and chess.

Chloe could hardly wait to finagle privacy with Lizzy, grasping her hand the moment her parlor door was closed and pulling her to the settee. “Elizabeth, I was thrilled beyond words to receive your note. How fortuitous that you chose this time to visit. I have wonderful news.” She paused a moment before gushing with happiness, “Clifton and I are expecting!”

Lizzy squealed and hugged her tight. “Oh Chloe! That is marvelous news. When is your date of confinement? How are you feeling? Have you told anyone else?”

“Slow down, Elizabeth!” Chloe laughed. “One question at a time, please. The baby should arrive in late January, I am feeling as well as can be expected, and other than immediate family, we have told no others. There. Any other queries, Mrs. Curious?” They both laughed, Lizzy bending to pour tea.

“Well, I am overjoyed. Our children will be months apart. In fact, we all seem to be procreating at an alarming rate, rather like rabbits! Filling Derbyshire with the next generation of citizens in one fell swoop.” Lizzy handed Chloe a cup. “Mr. Drury must be ecstatic. Tell me, is he as ridiculous as my husband? If he is, be warned, as the nursery will be decorated lavishly, and there may be no toys remaining in the little shop on Oak Street!”

Chloe smiled sweetly. “Clifton is yet refusing to allow himself to anticipate fully.” She glanced at Lizzy's puzzled face and sighed. “I have told few this, Elizabeth, but I lost a child four years ago.”

Lizzy squeezed her hand in sympathy, instinctively resting the other on her own baby, safe and secure in her womb. Chloe continued, “We had been married but a few months when I conceived. All seemed well until the third month.” She swallowed in remembered grief, shaking her head briefly and then smiling weakly. “Since then we have tried but to no avail. The physicians all said there was no reason why I should not conceive, but it simply did not happen until now. We waited to be sure, but quickening has occurred and I am feeling well. Clifton is yet afraid to hope and would rather I maintain the secrecy, but I am too happy.”