He remembered all too well his mother’s ordeal when she had been expecting Georgiana and, even more vividly, the long, arduous birth and heart-wrenching sorrow that had followed. Though Elizabeth was not experiencing any difficulties other than those that all healthy young women who are fast approaching their confinement have in common, Darcy’s anxiety for her multiplied. For Elizabeth’s sake, he attempted to conceal his unease as best he could, but it did not take long for his astute wife to notice her husband’s agitation.

Elizabeth sensed Darcy’s anxiety growing daily and, knowing him so well, had her suspicions regarding the cause. She became especially concerned when she noticed his distraction was such that he had resumed his old practice of staring at her from across the room, much as he had done in Hertfordshire, to the exclusion of anyone else who might also be in their company at the time. Elizabeth had asked him, on several occasions, to confide in her, to share the source of his disquiet, but Darcy simply looked at her, shook his head, and kissed her as he assured her all was well and that he was tired or distracted. Elizabeth did not believe him for a moment, and one night, as she sat at the pianoforte and played a particularly moving love song, she happened to glance up to find his gaze fixed upon her with such a look of anguish it caused her fingers to fumble upon the keys. Their eyes locked, and then Darcy quickly turned aside his head and swallowed thickly. Elizabeth turned her attention back to her music with a frown.

At the end of her song, Darcy rose and strode from the room without so much as a word or even a look to her. Elizabeth followed him to his study. Without knocking, she entered to find him standing before a large window as he looked out into the darkness. His forearm rested against one of the window’s panes, his other hand on his hip.

“Was my performance so lacking you felt the need to flee without so much as a word to me?” she asked.

Her words were teasing, but there was a seriousness to her tone that caused him to shift uncomfortably. “Nothing is wrong with your performance, I assure you,” he said in a low, almost painfully quiet voice. “I am only distracted tonight, that is all.”

She crossed the room to stand beside him and placed her hand upon his arm. “Allow me to say, Fitzwilliam, that your assurances in this quarter have come to mean very little. Will you not finally speak to me of this thing that has been weighing upon you so heavily that you would persist in concealing it from me rather than confess?”

Darcy shook his head. “In this instance, I am afraid there is nothing that can be gained from my speaking of it. Indeed, I cannot.”

Elizabeth stroked her hand over his arm and asked, “You cannot, or you will not?”

He swallowed hard then. “Elizabeth, do not ask this of me,” he said, his voice hoarse. “It is not my wish to cause you distress.”

She stared at him, her exasperation and concern at his stubbornness evident. “Fitzwilliam, you cannot possibly cause me more distress by speaking with me than you already have by your refusing to do so. By your failing to confide in me, my agitation shall only continue to increase. Can you not see this?”

She squeezed his arm gently, and Darcy ran one hand over his tired eyes. A full minute passed before he inquired, “Are you certain you truly wish to know?”

“I do,” she said, her voice earnest. “Please, speak to me.”

He sighed and, after a few moments, began to speak in a pained voice, his gaze fixed upon some imaginary point as he continued to stare out into the darkness. “Whenever I close my eyes each night, whenever I think of you during the day—which, as you must know has always been constantly—I cannot help but be reminded of the very great danger I know you shall soon have to face. In vain I have struggled to think of happier thoughts, but I cannot seem to stop myself from dwelling upon the worst. I fear for you, Elizabeth, I fear for our unborn child, and, selfish as it is, I fear for myself. There is no possible way I can continue to exist if you do not. I cannot put it any plainer than that.”

Elizabeth, thankful to have her suspicions confirmed at last, said, “Fitzwilliam, indeed, you need not trouble yourself with such thoughts. You know I shall never leave you, and certainly not like that.”

Darcy turned then and faced her, his eyes tortured. “But you and I cannot know that, Elizabeth. Not for certain.”

“No,” she said. “No one can ever know anything for certain. We can only put our faith in God and hope for the best. Fitzwilliam, my mother bore five healthy daughters, and she survived each birth with no complications whatsoever. My pregnancy, from what I understand, is much like hers. In any case, you have seen for yourself and heard the doctors’ reassurances that nothing untoward has occurred to give rise to any worry.” She paused for a moment before adding, “I am not your mother, my dearest. I am myself. Though you were quite young then, you must recognize some difference in our circumstances. Can you not?”

He pulled her into his arms. “I can,” he admitted. “I know you are not her, Elizabeth, but it is because of her that I cannot help but to think in such a manner. Believe me when I say I do not wish to dwell upon such wretched possibilities.”

“Then do not,” she commanded softly. “Do not think any longer of such things. Only have faith in me when I say to you all will be well.” He said nothing in response, and Elizabeth said, “Fitzwilliam, I am so very happy I am carrying your child. I want for you to be happy, as well. We have only one short month until we shall become parents. Our privacy—our entire lives—will be greatly altered by this new life growing within me. Do not waste this precious time we have alone together with such dark thoughts. Do not dwell upon what may never come to pass. Rejoice in the knowledge that I love you and our child, and all shall be well in the end.”

Darcy nodded mutely and buried his face in her hair. Breathing deeply, he held onto her with a fervency and an emotion he had not dared in days. “Tell me again that you will not leave me, Elizabeth,” he whispered in a pleading voice.

“Never,” she promised with absolute finality. “I shall live a long, healthy life and bear you ten children, tormenting you daily with my impudence.”

Darcy laughed as he hugged her tighter.

Elizabeth smiled and placed a kiss upon his cheek. “Come,” she said. “It has been a long day, and I believe we are both in dire need of rest, my love. Let us retire and think no more of this.”

*   *   *

Many hours later, Darcy lay awake, unable to find repose, but, miraculously, not due to any tormenting thoughts that might have plagued him earlier. Elizabeth had been tossing in their bed for more than two hours, attempting to find a position she could abide for longer than ten minutes. The air had grown quite hot and uncharacteristically oppressive for Derbyshire, even for August, and Darcy longed to bring her some relief, though he hardly knew how. Finally, Elizabeth sat up and dropped her head into her hands. “I feel as though I will never again sleep longer than two hours altogether. I am so hot and uncomfortable, Fitzwilliam,” she whined.

Darcy sat up, as well, and rubbed her lower back. He hoped the circular motion might soothe her. “I am sorry, my love,” he said as he placed a kiss upon her exposed shoulder, where he then rested his chin. “I wish there was anything I could do to make you feel better. You know I would gladly take on your discomfort myself if it meant you would be easy. Perhaps a cool bath would do much to ease your suffering? Shall I ask Sonia to draw one for you?”

“No, it is now nearly three o’clock in the morning. Certainly, Sonia is asleep, and I would not wish to wake her, but,” Elizabeth said with a sly smile, “I do believe a swim in the lake would feel heavenly right now.” She threw off the tangled sheets with much enthusiasm, reached for her discarded shift and dressing gown, and then slid rather awkwardly from the bed.

Darcy leapt after her, and his concern for her safety returned in full force. “Elizabeth, certainly not. You shall be seen, and it could be dangerous. Do you not recall anything of our conversation? You are now heavy with child and should not be exerting yourself thus.”

“Nonsense. No one is about at this hour, and I hardly think you would allow me to go alone, in any case. The cool water shall bring me some relief, I am sure of it.” She patted her bulging stomach and grinned. “If anything, I shall be more buoyant with this ample body of mine. Indeed, I am convinced it is perfectly safe.”

Clearly unconvinced, but unwilling to argue with her, Darcy sighed. “Can I not persuade you to see reason?” he asked as Elizabeth fastened the belt of her dressing gown and busied herself by retrieving several towels from the edge of Darcy’s large copper tub.

“None whatsoever.” She smiled then arched her brow and extended her hand to him. “Come, Fitzwilliam. I suggest you make haste and dress yourself, sir. The lady of the lake beckons, and you know it is abominably rude to keep a lady waiting.”

Chapter 34

With the coming of September, so came Mrs. Bennet to Derbyshire for an extended stay under her son-in-law’s expansive roof. Much to the consternation of Pemberley’s master and mistress, Elizabeth’s mother was determined to be present for the birth of her first grandchild, whose impending arrival she did not expect until the following month. Having anticipated their wedding vows by more than a fortnight, however—and convinced their unborn child had been conceived during one of the amorous interludes preceding their marriage—Darcy and Elizabeth had decided to allow the world to believe the birth a premature one. Early births were not so uncommon, after all, and Elizabeth’s labor would take place without the presence of family members and friends and, most especially, the presence of Elizabeth’s mother.