“Mama, you beautiful. Pretty dress.”

Lizzy curtsied, brown taffeta crunching. “Why thank you, kind sir.” Then she laughed gaily, kneeling for a tight embrace. “You are as handsome as your father, sweetheart. How do you like your suit?” She fingered the frilly, chambray collar framing his round face, brushing invisible lint from the blue flannel jacket tailored to mimic a gentleman’s coat only far looser and lighter. The roomy breeches were adorned with simple gold buttons, white-stockinged feet encased in basic house slippers of kid leather. It was the first time the toddler had ever worn anything other than the typical free flowing children’s dresses, or the airy Indian garments his godfather managed to provide no matter how Darcy frowned. He was a bit young for his garments, but he did look absolutely adorable.

Nonetheless, it was clear by the expression on his face, coupled with the constant tugging on clinging fabric, that he was far from enthusiastic about the change in attire.

“Itchy, Mama.”

“It is flannel, love. It cannot be scratchy. You will grow used to these clothes in time, but I promise you can change into your nightgown soon. Try not to squirm. Look at your papa. He is not fidgeting, is he? And his jacket is wool, which is scratchy.”

“Your mother is correct, Alexander. Try to be strong.”

“Ah! The corruption begins already!” George strode through the door at that moment, breezy and regal in an Indian silk of navy blue and silver, his three years in England not affecting his clothing preferences appreciably. Alexander took one look at his unencumbered godfather and assumed a childish pout astonishingly similar to his father’s frown.

“We were beginning to presume you had decided not to join us, Uncle. The Bennets should be here at any moment.”

“I was assuring that the chess set was ready. Elizabeth’s father has now surmounted me by three games at last count. I must prove my superiority!” He dramatically lifted his chin, fist high in the air, and winked at Alexander, who erupted in giggles, itchy clothing forgotten.

A footman entered, announcing the arrival of the Bennets. George scooped a still giggling Alexander into his arms as they moved into the foyer to greet their guests.

Mr. and Mrs. Bennet had changed little in the past years. Mrs. Bennet continued to bemoan her husband’s imminent demise, but the older gentleman showed nary a sign of going anywhere. If anything he held himself with an unusual spunkiness. Apparently the joys of observing his eldest daughters find happiness while providing him with an ever-increasing clutch of grandchildren had restored a semblance of youth. Mrs. Bennet was as breathless and flighty as ever; the consolation of fulfilling her appointed task in marrying her daughters adequately not yet penetrating her consciousness.

“Why, Mr. Darcy! How delightful it is to see you! How can we ever repay you for leasing Netherfield for the wedding? Your generosity is a testament to your excellent character!”

“Thank you, madam, but once again I must assert your error. All praise must be extended to Mrs. Darcy.”

“Nonsense! We know it is your doing, sir! Blessed we were the day you entered our lives, is it not so, Lizzy?”

“Absolutely, Mama. However, in this instance I fear my husband is telling the truth. You see, he preferred the joy of dwelling at Longbourn until I prevailed upon him the need for additional guest quarters. Quite distressed he was at the sacrifice, but I insisted.”

“Oh! What a dear, dear man you are!” She daubed at her teary eyes, missing Lizzy’s smirk and Darcy’s barely concealed frown of disgust.

Greetings erupted in earnest. Alexander was engulfed with hugs and kisses while the men greeted each other with more restraint. Lizzy promised that Michael would be brought down later, only then able to steer her sister to the back of the small crowd for a private chat.

“Have you heard from your fiancé?”

“Not as yet. I know he is busy in his own way to prepare for our wedding, but I do wish he would hurry along.”

“Have no fears, sister dear. I am sure he is as frantic to be with you as you are to be with him.” Lizzy smiled at Kitty’s pretty blush. “Surely you do not believe otherwise?”

Kitty shook her head. “No. I no longer doubt his devotion and honesty. I merely persist in a ridiculous fear that an unnameable force will separate us for yet a few more months!”

“I doubt that shall happen. When do you expect him to arrive?”

“Tomorrow or the following day. He was unsure, but he is insistent on passing a few days with the entire family prior to our wedding. How about Georgiana? Have you heard from her?”

“Not since they departed from Paris. William is fretful, not that there is anything remarkable in that.” She glanced fondly toward her spouse. “I assure him that all is well. She is in competent hands and would not miss your wedding.”

Kitty halted her just outside the parlor doorway, lowering her voice seriously. “Lizzy, I must inform you. We received word today that Lydia and Mr. Wickham will be coming to the wedding. I did not expect them; after all, they did not stand at your and Jane’s wedding, or at Mary’s. I am very sorry!”

“Do not be anxious. It was inevitable and we have been fortunate not to encounter Mr. Wickham in all these years. I appreciate you warning me so I can prepare William and Georgiana.” She looked at Darcy, who was currently in amused conversation with his father-in-law while Alexander tugged on his grandfather’s bushy muttonchops from his perch in the older man’s arms. “They do not anticipate residing at Netherfield, I pray.”

“Oh no! Papa disabused Mama of that notion immediately! There is more than enough room at Longbourn.” She too glanced toward Darcy with warmth. “I would never allow such disregard for Mr. Darcy’s feelings, nor Georgiana’s. I am truly sorry, Lizzy!”

Lizzy smiled warmly, kissing Kitty’s forehead. “Think on it no further, my dear. This is your time to celebrate. Nothing shall be allowed to mar that. Come, let us start the rejoicing now.”

The evening’s festivities were over, the Bennets safely returned to Longbourn after a delicious meal. Mrs. Hanford hummed while she knitted and kept an eye on Alexander, who was finally rid of the encumbering garments and nestled in sleep wearing a loose, cotton nightgown and hugging Dog against his chest. Miss Lisa read a book by the fire, all comfortably ensconced in the chamber selected to serve as nursery for the duration of their stay. The remaining Darcys relaxed in the tiny sitting room attached to their favorite Netherfield sleeping chamber.

Darcy sat at the small writing desk attending to a stack of papers that Mr. Andrew Daniels, his London solicitor, had sent to Netherfield. Mostly they were lists of various business matters to be handled upon his arrival in London, nothing urgent thankfully, as Darcy was distracted by the vision of his wife nursing their son.

As always, Lizzy respected his preference for silence as he worked. Her gentle murmurs and crooning to Michael were dulcet. She rocked slowly, eyes intent on the calm face of the babe, by all appearances ignoring her husband. If there was a bit more breast showing than was strictly necessary for the task it seemed to be guileless.

Darcy smiled, turning his gaze toward the parchment before him. He was not really fooled by her ploy, reasonably familiar with his wife’s tactics. Nor was he in the slightest bit dismayed, except that he really did want to peruse these lists and pen a brief note for Georgiana to be posted on the morrow.

He frowned. As Lizzy had intimated to Kitty, he was concerned that there was no letter from his sister. She may have been twenty years of age and well cared for, but some habits never die and one was the need to protect her. And, of course, he simply missed her horribly and was anxious to be reunited.

Movement from the chair again diverted him, pleasantly so as Lizzy transferred Michael to the right breast and apparently forgot to cover the left. She glanced up at her husband, the expression of contented innocence belied by a twinkle in her eyes. Darcy smiled in return, certain that his eyes were glowing even though he avoided directly gazing at the abundant display.

He pulled a blank parchment from the pile, dipped the pen as a prelude to writing while his thoughts veered not to wayward sister, but to his beautifully sensuous wife. A fresh wave of joy and relief washed over him, borne not from what he was certain would evolve into a delightful night of pleasure, but from the peace that now ruled after what had been several months of difficulty.