He did not turn but remained with his gaze fixed upon their precious babe. It was many moments before he spoke, his voice low after such a monumental day. “It never fails to astound me how very much Eleanor resembles you,” he murmured. “She is so tiny, yet she has your eyes, your lips, your dark curls, even that little crinkle that appears between your brows when you are contemplating something you find baffling.”

Just then, the young lady in question reached out one plump thumb and four fat little fingers and wrapped them around her father’s finger. She ignored Darcy’s attempt to extract himself and held tight, refusing to let go. She sucked on her bottom lip as she slept on.

Darcy smiled at her quiet determination. “She also seems to have inherited your willful spirit, as well,” he softly laughed. With a smile of her own, Elizabeth extracted her husband’s finger from her daughter’s firm grasp, then watched as he slowly raked his hands through his hair, his voice no more than a whisper. “I remember Georgiana being this small as though it were yesterday.”

Elizabeth’s heart went out to him. She knew, perhaps better than anyone, how attached her husband was to his sister and how acutely he was feeling her loss, especially at this moment. Having raised Georgiana on his own since she had been eleven, she had, in many respects, been more of a daughter to Darcy than a sister. He had become equally as attached to Lydia in the past four years, and having to part not with one but with both on the same day had been almost too much for him to bear. Elizabeth stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. Darcy’s arms instantly went around her, and she proclaimed, “It has been an emotional day, has it not?”

Darcy buried his face in Elizabeth’s hair, closed his eyes, and allowed the familiar scent of lavender to wash over him, as well as the comforting presence of her softness. The combination, even after the newness of their marriage had worn off, was still instrumental in soothing his agitation. “This day, I fear, has been more difficult than I had originally anticipated,” he admitted.

Elizabeth raised her head and kissed him. “My dearest,” she murmured as she smoothed an unruly curl from his brow, “I can only imagine how you must feel, but I suspect it will become easier with time. This is only the first day, and though Lydia is to reside in Scarborough, Georgiana will be settled only ten miles from Pemberley. She and Mr. Blake have promised to visit us often, and I need not remind you, Fitzwilliam, in the meantime you shall have a most attentive and loving wife to lavish affection upon you. As you are well aware, sir, you will never find yourself at loose ends so long as I am here to encompass every spare second of your time.” Elizabeth reassured him with another kiss and a warm look that brought him further relief.

Darcy smiled down upon her. His eyes closed once more, and with a sigh, he allowed his wife to placate him with her ministrations. Elizabeth said in a teasing voice, “You must also strive to remember that you have a family who absolutely adores you. I believe you know I refer to more than your son and daughter, my dear. You have several other sisters, you know, who love you, as well, to say nothing of an extremely attentive mother-in-law.”

At this declaration, Darcy laughed. “I do hope, however,” he said, “that your mother and her good intentions will remain at Longbourn with your father for some duration before coming to stay with us again. You must own that her exuberance can be trying, especially when there is a wedding at hand. And there has been more than one occasion during this visit, in spite of your father’s efforts to check her, when she attempted to lay the blame for Lydia’s initial desire to leave Longbourn upon my shoulders, alone. That, you must own, is hardly fair.”

Elizabeth sighed. “I cannot disagree with you, but I am more inclined to believe the happiness of her favorite daughter’s most fortuitous marriage to Mr. Brewster to have eclipsed any real resentment she may have once harbored toward you on that score. You know she would hardly be civil to you at all if that were the case—or to me for that matter—and she has been, for the most part, quite affectionate toward us both.”

“True. I cannot argue that, in many instances, your mother has been solicitous and kind, especially where the children are concerned, but it does not necessarily follow that because of it I am willing to excuse her more vexatious behavior. In light of all that has passed, you know how it infuriates me to hear her always speaking of frippery, suitors, and marriage to Eleanor. I am convinced that, having now lost all her daughters to common sense and enlightenment, your mother is determined to make ours into the silliest creature imaginable. I will not have it. For God’s sake, Elizabeth, she is but ten months old!” he shouted.

Though Eleanor slept on, young Charles, who had been sleeping on the other side of the nursery, stirred at his father’s harsh tone. Elizabeth laid her hand upon Darcy’s arm as she watched their son roll onto his stomach and snore softly, clutching a toy tightly in his arms. Darcy, his jaw rigid, exhaled and ran his hands across his forehead before he strode from the room.

When Elizabeth found him a few moments later, he was on the balcony just off the master’s chambers. His back was to her, and his hands were braced upon the railing, clutching the iron in his fists. His stiff posture told her all she needed to know—he was far from happy. She came to stand beside him and inquired, “What is it that is truly bothering you, Fitzwilliam? For though my mother has often incited agitation in each of us, you have hardly been yourself this day, my love.”

“Forgive me,” Darcy muttered, his voice barely audible, and after running the back of his hand across his mouth several times, he confessed, “All this business of courting and weddings, I believe, has finally taken its toll on me. I am not cut out for this, Elizabeth… this meeting with prospective suitors and judging correctly whether or not they are sincere in their attentions to those whom I hold most dear. I fear I am ever doubtful and suspicious, and that is very unlikely to change… ever.”

“You are an elder brother, Fitzwilliam, and now a father. Indeed, it is to be expected,” she replied.

“It is more than that. I remember well what befell both our sisters not so long ago, and at the hands of the same blackhearted scoundrel. However, in many senses of the word, we have been fortunate. Though it took time, Georgiana recovered and met Blake—an excellent man—and Brewster fell in love with Lydia, much in the same manner I fell in love with you. It is not every man who would overlook what either of them went through, nor excuse their actions in such events, but it is even more than that. I cannot help but worry that someday Eleanor will desire to leave our protection only to throw herself into the power of some undeserving man who could not possibly recognize or appreciate her true worth.”

Elizabeth moved to rest her cheek upon Darcy’s back and slipped her arms around his waist. “Are you?” she asked, “for I must say I am hardly concerned such a thing shall ever happen. We have many years ahead of us yet to teach Eleanor how to go about choosing a young man who is truly worthy of her love and admiration. I daresay when the time comes for her to surrender her heart to the keeping of another, she shall have no trouble whatsoever in discerning whether or not he is deserving of her.”

Darcy laughed ruefully. “Forgive me if I do not share your confidence. There is no way to ensure such a thing. If Georgiana so easily failed to see what a wretched mistake she was making, and then Lydia—though at the time your sister was hardly the woman she is today—I am afraid I cannot carry so much faith in my heart.”

“You fail to see the common element then, Fitzwilliam.”

He turned sharply. “You mean Wickham? Though he has been dead these four years, I had not thought you so naïve as to believe there are not others in the world very much like him, who would not hesitate to do just as much harm, perhaps even worse.”

“I was not referring to Mr. Wickham, my dear,” Elizabeth said. “I was referring to us, to our love. That is the common element or, rather, one not so common.” Darcy stared at her, and Elizabeth sighed, clearly exasperated. Rather than lose her patience, however, she decided to take pity upon him. “Though I have no doubt Georgiana has always been a very sensible young lady, she had not a mother to speak to her or to guide her and though Lydia had the benefit of such counsel at her constant disposal, one can hardly declare either my sister or my mother to ever have been sensible at the time. Neither of our sisters had anything truly tangible to base their woeful decisions upon. It was not until they were able to see what love should be—to observe it firsthand in us, and to discuss it openly and honestly—that they were finally able to begin to experience it themselves on some vicarious level and, ultimately, to apply that knowledge they had gleaned—that recognition—to their own circumstances. Because of this, they have been able to make sensible decisions for their own greater good and that of their husbands’, as well.”

Watching her husband struggle with this revelation, Elizabeth sighed and extended her hand to caress his abrasive cheek. “You are truly the very best of men, Fitzwilliam. Indeed, I have yet to meet any man who could ever begin to compete with your goodness and your sense of honor. Both Georgiana and Lydia were able to recognize that in you, as well. They chose to model their ideals after you, and as a result, they are now married to two very respectable men who love them unreservedly, in spite of their youthful indiscretions. I can almost promise you Eleanor will be no different and much quicker to pick up on it, I might add, simply because she will have me to explain it to her.”