She is responding very well to the treatment. I have noticed a number of revealing glances between Miss de Bourgh and Raja. Not sure how I feel about it. I would be thrilled to see both young people find love, Miss Anne especially as she deserves some reward for tolerating her mother all these years with stoic patience. However, it is easy to misplace gratitude for affection. What is surprising is that Raja seems to be drawn to her and he has never taken his innate empathy to such degrees. I will study the situation carefully, not that there is much I can do to halt it, but I do not wish to see either hurt unduly.

Elizabeth, I am relieved to note, appears her sunny, exuberant self. Her pregnancy by all appearances seems to be progressing without complications. William is walking a foot off the ground, his eyes following her every move, not that they did not do so before. The day we arrived he was retrieving furniture from the attic. I was delighted to see the old cradle. I remember Phillip lying in it, as well as William so many years later. I know it is an heirloom, probably slept in it myself, although as there were two of us I truly do not know what Mother did! Should ask William if he unveiled a second cradle in the attic. Interesting.

I am anxious for the festival. Elizabeth is being quite secretive about the planned activities, although I can readily discern from her smug expression that it is to be an extravaganza extraordinaire! I have such fond memories of past festivals. Mother vainly tried to keep us inside but we always snuck out and mingled with the servant's children, all of us getting filthy and eating until we were ill. Good times. I specifically recall that it was the day before the Festival when James turned twenty, home from University for the summer and to celebrate his birthday on June 4, and my parents invited old Lord Matlock and his family to the Manor for the party. It was the first James, or any of us for that matter, had seen the Fitzwilliam girls for a number of years. Malcolm and James were at Cambridge together and close friends, so Father decided to include them on the guest list. Anne was fifteen, I think, and absolutely stunning. So was Muriel actually. Catherine was not there, as I remember, probably married to Sir Louis, now that I consider it. Anyway, even Alex and I at twelve could appreciate an attractive female, but James? Lord Almighty! One would think by his age he had seen his share of gorgeous ladies, but apparently not. Or, more to the point, I now know in my age-earned wisdom, not the one who would steal his heart. James took one look at Lady Anne and fell head over heels. It was clear to everyone present; James completely tongue tied and goggled eyed. Ridiculous, in fact, and Alex and I loved it! Teased him mercilessly, but he was undeterred, even when threatening to beat us senseless. Yes, indeed, happy memories!


July 31

Pemberley

Visited Rowan Lake today for a refreshing picnic organized at the last minute by Pemberley's most excellent Mistress. However, before I relate the day's fun, I must jot down the astonishing and amusing conversation with William earlier in the morning.

He discovered me where I was hiding in the library, entering sheepishly and carrying an enormous book in his arms and asking if he could have a private chat. It was exactly the opening I had been waiting for without even realizing it. He had questions about Elizabeth's pregnancy and birth, all understandable and typical questions, but the very fact that he was inquiring about a delicate, female-related topic proved to me even further the superior nature of the relationship they have. I teased him a bit as it still sends me into near hysterics how a grown man, married to boot, can blush so readily! Brilliant! I was kind though, turning on my Dr. Darcy pose and launching into it.

His quick grasp of matters obstetrical did not surprise me in the least. William's intellect is no longer a revelation. Nor was I overly shocked that he would be intimately curious about his wife's condition. I suppose I should have been though, as it is highly irregular, yet for some reason I was not. Everything about the Darcys' relationship has amazed me. Their level of intimacy shared, so blatantly apparent to anyone with a moderately discerning eye, is profound in its depth, so it seemed natural that he would want to know what to expect and what his beloved wife would suffer. Nonetheless, I was stunned on two counts: One, I suggested he consider being with Elizabeth during her delivery and after only a brief moment of flabbergast, he embraced the notion utterly and with an obvious relief that was uplifting to witness. Second, and secretly for the time being, I realized that I want, more than anything I have wanted in recent months, to be the one who delivers their baby! I truly did not anticipate the emotion and was frankly overwhelmed. Luckily William was caught up with his own emotions and did not notice me swallowing repeatedly and furiously blinking my eyes! Heavens! What is happening to me? I swear I have become a sentimental old fool overnight!

We talked for a long time, covering everything I could think of about the remaining months of her pregnancy and the birth process itself. No matter how delicate or vague I attempted to be, William always asked something pointed, frequently grasping a concept yet elucidated or leaping forward several steps while I was still explaining the fundamentals! Wonderful boy! All blushing ceased, William immersing himself so fully into the topic that I think a herd of elephants could have roared through the room and he would not have flinched. I have never seen a person focus as he does, except perhaps me when dealing with a medical trauma. I was frankly exhausted, truly at a loss as to what other information to impart, but he kept on, always thinking of something or referring to some obscure line in the textbook, which I think he has memorized cover to cover. I am quite certain we would still be in the room if not for Elizabeth interrupting to drag us away for the picnic.

Her brows rose dramatically at noting the book, but she said nothing. “Uncle and I were talking,” William says with dry understatement, meeting Elizabeth's glittering gaze candidly. The humorous lilt to her lovely lips was telling though, and I swear the two exchanged a full conversation without uttering a word. Marvelous!


August 7

Pemberley

Seems as if I barely arrived and now I am leaving! Not sure what came over me yesterday, but tomorrow most of us are departing, except for William and Elizabeth, who will be touring the southern Midlands. And, if I know my nephew even slightly, most likely purchasing anything remotely infant related within a fifty-mile radius.

I feel the itch to travel, but not with the same vagrancy typical of me. No, Jharna, it is not my usual restlessness. Quite the opposite, in fact. These past weeks have been so marvelous, and being at Pemberley has filled my soul with a peace I honestly have not felt in decades, even with you, my devoted lover. It is home. Perhaps I am sensing my mortality creeping up on me, not that I plan on departing this earth anytime soon. Fifty-three is far from old, I declare with shaking fist to the heavens! No, it is still this blasted sentimentality that has invaded my person. Ga!

The simple truth is that I feel the complete opposite of restless. What would that be? Calm, abeyant, satisfied? All of the above, I suppose. So, I want to take advantage of the fine weather and visit a few more old friends in London and the surrounds, and then visit Estella. All of this traveling and imposing on other's hospitality is welcomed with great anticipation, yet also because I want to be done with it and return to Pemberley before the winter and Baby Darcy is born. I planted the seed yesterday, both William and Elizabeth surprised by my hint. I do hope they take this separation to get used to the idea because I will deliver their child if I have to apply my brutal strength to the task and physically evict the midwife from the room! Of course, they adore me so I do not think that will be necessary. Yes, Jharna, smug as always.

Additionally, the lovers need some time alone. I swear those two are as transparent as glass. I know a gentleman should not entertain musings of another's sexual relationship, but it is nearly impossible not to do so around them! Poor Georgiana. Good thing she is used to being on her own because I seriously doubt she sees any more of her brother now then she did before! Be that as it may, they are rather cute together—awful word but it is apropos in this case—so I am casting no negative judgments. Warms the heart, actually, which is another reason I need to depart for awhile: I am becoming far too maudlin with all this romance in the air. Time for the Colonel and me to remember we are bachelors, loose and unencumbered!

Raja, I am coming to accept with equanimity and happiness, shall likely not be counted amongst the unattached for very much longer. As I have written, the affection, nay Love… call it what it is, George… is genuine between him and Miss Anne. His plan, he tells me now, is to work his charm on Lady C. I advised him just to tell her he is royalty and that will be that; but he is far too noble, wants to earn her approval on his own merits, gain respect, etc. I just laughed, slapped him on the back, and wished him well in the endeavor. So first I absolutely have to tarry in Kent as I would not miss this for the world!

Malcolm and Madeline are off to tour through Wales, taking Georgiana with them. Leaves the newlyweds utterly alone, which I know pleases them. They intend to take a small jaunt through the lower Midlands, William told me. He wants his wife to be familiar with her new shire. Plus I think they plan to purchase baby essentials. I thought it odd they did not denude London of every last diapering cloth or bonnet. Apparently they have chosen to strip Derby bare instead! First, however, he asks me seriously if I felt a woman in her fifth month should travel. I assured him that pregnant women are truly not all that fragile, especially with husbands who dote and fret so ridiculously. He was not particularly amused, but reassured. Besides, what can possible go wrong in my beautiful and peaceful agricultural county?

Anyway, I am off to Kent and then Darcy House for a spell before Devon. No agendas! Absolutely not! Allow the wind to carry me wherever it sees fit. Perhaps no longer restless per se, but definitely insouciant and aimless!

Chapter One

Correspondence

The sun had long since set. The full moon cast a pale bluish glow over the carpet and furnishings near the widely open windows of the Darcys' spacious private sitting room. It was far too warm on this late August evening to have a fire lit, but several oil lamps and candles illuminated the area near the empty fireplace. Darcy, as always, refused to grope in darkness or strain his or his wife's eyes while they read.

They reclined on the chaise, Lizzy nestled between her husband's legs with her back pressed into his bare chest. Peaceful silence surrounded them as they attended to the stack of correspondence that had accumulated during their journey south. Darcy, especially, was still working his way through the pile that seemed to grow rather than diminish as business-related items were continually added to the top.

Tonight he eschewed any business letters, choosing to read a lengthy missive from his sister while absently toying with a lock of his wife's hair. Lizzy smiled and lightly stroked her husband's cloth-covered thigh as she read a letter from her sister Jane that had arrived that day.


My Dearest Lizzy,

My heart nearly stopped as you related your trauma with the bandits! Oh, dearest sister, how absolutely awful an experience! I am trembling yet at the horror of it and the thankfulness in your recovery. How proud of Mr. Darcy you must be! Charles was not at all surprised. I recall him telling me once that Mr. Darcy was an excellent marksman. Of course I am quite certain he never anticipated his dear friend utilizing his skills so. Has Papa written you? Undoubtedly he shall relate the episode in an amusing manner, but Mama was quite taken by your mishap. Her nervous attack was of stupendous proportions. She has been abed for two days, despite your and Mr. Darcy's assurances that all was well. Papa retreated to his library as usual, appearing only to halt the mournful letter she had penned to you! Therefore you shall necessarily be required to affect commiseration when next you write to Mama.