Today they crossed the northern bridge spanning the river, bypassed the Village, and headed due east across the moor in a flash of black and brown with coattails flying. The final destination, a clump of trees on a small rise, was reached essentially simultaneously with the good doctor ever so slightly in the lead.

“Ha! I finally beat you!” George declared breathlessly. “Good boy, Aristotle, very good boy.” He rubbed his mount's sweaty neck, reaching into a pocket for an apple.

Darcy was grinning, face flushed from the cool air, the picture of health and happiness. Parsifal, on the other hand, appeared decidedly out of sorts, not at all pleased with being displaced by the upstart Aristotle. “Do not fear, old man,” Darcy placated, stroking and administering treats. “You are still my favorite.”

They dismounted, allowing the horses to wander a bit and graze. George pulled a cigar from his breast pocket, leaning against a tree to puff in contentment. Darcy absently picked up a branch fallen to the ground and peeled at the loose bark, his gaze fixed dazedly on Pemberley nestled across the valley. Silence reigned for a time, both men lost to individual thoughts. It was Darcy who broke the quiet.

“I was reading in the book yesterday,” he began, no need to clarify which book he was referring to as these sorts of introductions were becoming common, “and it was talking about the final stages of the labor process and how irrational the woman becomes. Have you seen this often?”

“It is as I told you months ago, William. Labor is intense and very painful. Women often lose sight of rational thought toward the end. It is why having someone dear who can retain that calm is so vital. Are you sure you are up to the task?”

Darcy continued to peel the bark strips, tossing randomly as he thought, finally speaking very slowly. “I want to answer with an unequivocal 'yes,' but the truth is I do not know what to expect, either of Elizabeth or myself. I cannot well tolerate seeing her in pain. So, I vacillate between wondering if I will faint dead or dash away in fright, or be strong and the calming influence she needs. Normally I do not doubt my backbone, but it is all so different where my wife is concerned.”

“Of course it is ultimately up to you, William, and none will think less of you if you opt to stay away as most husbands do. However, imagine it this way. You are in the sitting room or library or parlor, wherever, sipping brandy while your beloved wife is screaming and in intense distress. Pemberley is large with thick walls, but probably not thick enough. Even if you cannot hear her, your knowledge of the subject is too inclusive to not know what is transpiring. How would you tolerate that?”

Darcy shook his head, throwing the denuded branch away. “Not well.”

“For what it is worth, nephew, I think you will be amazing. Additionally, there is no doubt in my mind that Elizabeth will want you there and will respond to your presence.” He chuckled lowly. “You are becoming quite the trend setter, Mr. Darcy. Marrying for love not once but twice, wearing a wedding ring, sharing one chamber, and now attending your child's birth. Folks may write books about you!”

“Terrific. My life's goal.”

George laughed in earnest, inhaling deeply of the cigar and releasing a satisfied sigh. “Ah! Nothing like the taste of fine tobacco. Comes from our former colonies, Virginia grown. Do not worry so, William. Elizabeth is very strong and all seems well with her and the baby. One can never be certain, but I do not foresee any major difficulties.”

“Yes, she is very strong.” Darcy spoke softly with a tender smile. “Nonetheless, I am very thankful that no further serious labor pains have reinitiated with her resumption of physical activity.”

“Indeed. Including such activity of which I believe I recommended you two avoid.”

Darcy spun around in shock, eyes wide. “We have not… that is I have not…! Uncle, I would never do anything that might harm my wife or child. Never! I am not a beast!” His face was stricken, blanched, and jaw slack, but eyes igniting with flickers of anger.

George, for one of the few times in his life, was mortally embarrassed and ashamed. “Fitzwilliam, forgive me! Of course you would never hurt Elizabeth. I should not have assumed anything.”

“Why would you think this of me?”

“I do apologize, son. It is just that… well, if you must know, you and Elizabeth do not hide your physical attraction for each other very well.” He paused, Darcy too confused and irritated to be discomfited by the intimate topic, but George abashed and reddening. He glanced away. “The poorly repressed desire notable when you returned from Town miraculously disappeared on your birthday and since. I… well, I concluded wrongly, obviously.” His voice trailed away. It was an odd situation for the physician, normally being quite adept at holding blunt, personal conversations with patients. This was his nephew and niece, however.

Darcy flushed slightly, anger fading. “Yes, well,” he cleared his throat roughly, “there are alternatives.” His lips clamped shut, simply unable to continue. In no way could he verbalize the fact that his wonderfully giving wife gratified his physical yearnings. As blissful and relieving as it was to be loved in such manner by the woman he adored more than life, the activity was mixed with emotions of dismay as he could not fulfill her desire. Besides, nothing compared to making love to her in complete unity and his body ached to bond with her wholly.

He glanced at his uncle. George leaned against the tree trunk, cigar burning forgotten at his side as he stared downward. Assuming a neutral tone, Darcy spoke, “So, your professional opinion is that our child is healthy and could be born safely at any time?”

“Dates of confinement are not an exact science, William,” George spoke in his most authoritative pitch, relieved to be on firm ground. “Based on the information provided as to Elizabeth's cycles, when you first suspected her pregnancy, and her current condition, the baby could be born anytime between now and early December. In fact, I think I will halt the tea as she hates it so.” He chuckled, finally inhaling from the butt of his cigar. “Actually, I imagine we would all be thrilled to meet your firstborn as soon as he, or she, is willing to join the family.”

Darcy laughed too. “I can confidently proclaim that Elizabeth is ready to not be pregnant.”

George snuffed the cigar stub under his boot heel, not meeting his nephew's eyes. “At this point I would suggest embracing any activities that may elicit labor. I believe our mounts have rested. Race you back to the manor?” With identical grins they called to their horses.

Later that night Lizzy reclined on the sitting room sofa, propped comfortably on two plump pillows with her aching feet actively being massaged by her adoring husband. She read aloud while Darcy rubbed, squirming intermittently to ease the persistent strain on her lower back.

“Is your back paining you, my love?”

“Your son seems determined to kick me in the kidneys!”

Darcy laughed, patting her feet before he removed them off his lap. Falling to his knees aside the sofa, he scooted to her torso, placing his strong hands behind her back. He pressed hard, circular motions with firm fingertips over the lumbar regions next to her spine.

“Relax and close your eyes,” he commanded gently, but she already had her head thrown back onto the pillow and was vocalizing sounds of satisfaction. He observed her with a happy smile, kneading steadily and leaning into her neck to bestow soft kisses. Nibbling to her earlobe, he murmured lowly, “Dr. Darcy and I had an interesting talk today about babies and delivery.”

“Do I have you to thank for stopping the daily tea doses?”

“Partially, although he made that decision himself. His professional opinion, as he shared with you during dinner, is that our son could arrive at any time if he so desired. He even went so far as to suggest we pray for a speedy resolution to your discomfort and gave me ideas as to ways of hastening the initiation.”

He withdrew from her neckline, meeting her eyes with a twinkle, one hand traveling from her back to breast with gentle caresses.

“Are you certain you understood?”

“Quite certain.” He cupped one breast, holding tenderly as he continued, “Elizabeth, I love you so intensely and want to please you, and me as well I will admit. However, if you do not feel able or interested, all considered, I do understand. My only true desire is to show you my love for you in whatever manner, even if it is embracing you and nothing else.”

Lizzy smiled, reaching up wordlessly to stroke his perfect face. She feathered over his forehead, brows, eyes, noble nose, to jaw and lips. Lightly grasping his chin with two fingers, she pulled him toward her until his lips were a scant breath away from hers.

“Fitzwilliam,” she breathed, “love me.”

He released a soft moan when she encompassed his mouth, searching and seeking possessively. How heavenly it is to love one's spouse wholeheartedly, body and soul, without encumbrances. Naturally accommodations were essential due to Lizzy's greatly expanded abdomen, but only in the final moments of their lovemaking. Before sleep claimed them, warm and blissfully satiated in their mammoth four-poster bed, they would love hard and with a joy of surrender.

Bare bodies nestled all night in the way it was meant to be, as far as they were concerned anyway. The reality that their child would arrive soon, whether as a result of this session of love or mere time, meant that the beautiful swell created by his presence would soon be gone. Darcy took advantage of the ability to caress freely in the days ahead, always enamored by the miracle of her stretched flesh as their baby moved. Their child would not be fazed by the vigorous activity of his parents, opting to stay cocooned and grow a bit more.

Lizzy's increasing girth, fatigue, and irritability were not always conducive to frequent periods of lovemaking, but they managed to satisfy each other frequently enough over the subsequent days for neither to feel ignored or ungratified. In many respects the prime joy was in the long cold nights when nude limbs were entwined with dainty bare back pressed into hard, naked, and very hot planes of a manly chest, fingers laced, and breath tickling shoulders as they talked quietly about diverse subjects and then slept deeply.

One such subject involved Darcy's uncle.

Georgiana's and Lizzy's sincere love for George had assuredly grown, and the thought of him leaving was increasingly a cause of distress. Yet neither could claim the intensity of emotion that Darcy now held for his uncle. Only Lizzy was privy to the innermost thoughts of her husband, and over numerous late night conversations as they snuggled he revealed the depth of his affection.

“I know it will not be precisely the same as when my father died,” he said on one such night as they lay entwined, referring to George's probable departure once the baby was born. “After all, he will not be permanently gone. We can exchange correspondence of a far more familiar nature than we ever did before, and there will be the hope that he may return someday. I can prepare my heart in a way that I obviously never did with my father. Yet, on the other hand, I was still so young when he died. It was years before I fully grasped what I had lost and by then the pain was dulled and I had grown accustomed to his absence.”