My Dearest Mr. Darcy

Back at Pemberley, as the weeks moved toward Christmas, life fell into the typical routines for this time of the year. Nevertheless, covering it all, threading through it all, and as a foundation of it all was Alexander. He was the star, the sweet center of attention, the innocent being that had every last soul wrapped around his tiny fingers. Lizzy did begin walking with him the day after the Bingleys left, Darcy at her elbow as they slowly traversed the endless corridors of the top floor. They took turns carrying him, pointing to various portraits or wall hangings, some of which were actually colorful enough to capture his brief consideration. Mostly he slept nestled onto a shoulder, the exercise being essentially for Lizzy's benefit.

  Even the sporadically encountered footman or maid could not resist a spontaneous smile and warm gaze to touch the young Master's face. Lizzy was delighted to proudly show him to anyone, Darcy also overcoming a natural devotion to protocol by introducing him with a broad grin.

  Georgiana and George joined the excursions from time to time. The dear doctor adored his grand-nephew, easily ensnaring the infant's serious gaze what with the garish outfits he wore, a voice exactly like his nephew's, and a natural storyteller's dramatic flair for enunciation. George found a captive audience to his wild tales, Alexander mesmerized by the theatric facial expressions and mimicking noises. “Aunt Giana,” as she would become to the array of nephews and nieces to eventually join the Darcy family, seized every moment possible to bond with her first nephew. Her clear devotion to him and sweet disposition would prevail, forging a deep love that would last down through the decades.

  IS HE ASLEEP?” DARCY asked Lizzy from the doorway as he entered the nursery.

  “Yes. Mrs. Hanford, you will ring me if he wakens?”

  “Of course, Mrs. Darcy.”

  “Do not fret, my dear. He has eaten well and should allot you at least three hours to dine. You need a full meal for a change.” Darcy soothed his wife with a tender caress to the small of her back, bending simultaneously to bestow a light kiss to Alexander's forehead. The baby, hours away from being four days old, lay soundly asleep in his cradle for the very first time. His tiny mouth was parted in sleep, as Darcy's always was, miniature fists curled to either side of his head and round bottom lifted into the air as he snuggled into the cushioned mattress.

  “Are you sure he will be warm enough? Perhaps we should add another blanket.”

  Darcy touched his cheek. “He feels warm, and Mrs. Hanford will ensure the fire stays lit. Come, love, all will be well, I promise.” Lizzy reluctantly allowed her husband to lead her away, not realizing that the separation was no easier for him. Darcy shared a last glance with Mrs. Hanford, the understanding nanny nodding and smiling with reassurance.

  Darcy had lovingly, but firmly, informed Lizzy that tonight they would dine with George and Georgiana. As difficult as it was to leave their son, Darcy was craving a full-course, freshly served meal. Furthermore, he knew that for Elizabeth to regain her strength it was essential her diet improve beyond quick trays served in their chambers. Aside from the nutritional aspects of the decision, he judged that dressing in more than a nightgown, primping her hair, and wearing a few jewels would mentally aid in her total recovery.

  Lizzy had tearily argued, Darcy embracing her and nearly relenting, but finally she had agreed. Now Darcy could only stare at his wife and the vision she presented. Marguerite had coiffed her hair in a basic, unadorned chignon with the strand of sapphires about her slender neck the only jewels. She wore one of the gowns designed for her by Madame Millicent in London for when she was early in her pregnancy, and already a mere four days since delivering she was slim enough to wear it, the creamy tops of her lactating breasts beautifully displayed.

  He halted her in the bedchamber, Lizzy glancing up into his face with surprise and sudden hope. “Are we staying after all?”

  Darcy smiled, cupping her face with his palms and shaking his head. “No, beloved. I intend to guarantee you eat until bursting, drink a glass of wine, laugh with your family, and unwind. First, however, I must tell you how absolutely stunning you are. God, Elizabeth! You take my breath away!” He encircled her neck, bending for a teasing and earnest kiss. “Delicious. Come, Mrs. Darcy, the clock is ticking, knowing the appetite of our son.”

  Lizzy was greeted with enthusiasm by George and Georgiana. Darcy, bless his amazing heart, had placed a goose down-filled cushion on the chair to his right, guiding his wife and lovingly assisting her to sit, a chore that was yet painfully accomplished. A large part of her heart and soul remained upstairs, but the warm welcome and dazzling brilliance of the appointed dining room calmed her. With the serving of the first course, a delicious roasted red pepper soup, Lizzy wholly relaxed into the joy of fine dining with dear loved ones.

  “I received a letter from Raja today,” George began as the entrée was served, all looking to him with rapt attention.

  “Did he finally propose?” Georgiana burst out, flushing instantly at her rude interruption and glancing at her brother in expectation of his rebuke. None was forthcoming, however, as he was as interested in the answer as she was.

  George continued with a chuckle, “Apparently so. Down on one knee with a bouquet of flowers to which was tied an engagement ring obtained from Spain, a family heirloom, he writes. Reciting poetry, no doubt, knowing Raul, although he does not say such. Anyway, Miss de Bourgh had to think on it for a few days…”

  “She did not!” It was Georgiana again, but this time they all laughed as George shook his head.

  “No, dear niece, she did not. He does not specify, but I can read between the lines. I rather imagine instantly leaping into arms or fainting dead away more the order of events.”

  “Anne is more the blushing and nodding sedate type, but there could have been some leaping involved,” Darcy said dryly.

  “Speaking from experience, nephew?” George winked at Lizzy.

  “No leaping—although there nearly was fainting, from me.” He squeezed his wife's hand. “Does Dr. Penaflor give any other specifics? Dates, perhaps?”

  “Lady Catherine's reaction?” Lizzy interjected with an evil twinkle.

  “I expect Lady Catherine has passed the recent months figuring how to incorporate royal Spanish elements into the de Bourgh family crest. Raja is ever the diplomat, not to mention a future son-in-law, so I cannot glean anything untoward. He has well established himself in the community as a worthy physician, already asked to be on the hospital board. I shall allow myself to take some credit in that as I did train him, passing on my superior expertise. Kent is blessed.” He paused for a smug grin and bite of braised chicken.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “Raja says they are tentatively planning a February wedding. He and Anne desired an intimate Christmas ceremony, but Lady Catherine insists on her daughter and heir having an elaborate affair with probably all of England invited. I added the caveat there, but would wager the truth of it.”

  “Why does everyone insist on February weddings?” Lizzy moaned. “I do not think it wise to take Alexander anywhere during the winter.”

  Darcy brought her knuckles to his lips, speaking softly. “Do not fret. We will attend if possible, bringing Alexander if he seems hale enough, or we will not. In the end our son's health is of the greatest importance. Anne and Mary will understand this.” Lizzy nodded, smiling bravely.

  “Well,” Georgiana broke the silence, “I think it is very romantic. So much love in the air. I cannot be happier for both Anne and Mary. Maybe we can even find someone for you, Uncle. Miss Bingley is yet unclaimed.”

  George literally spit his wine, Lizzy bursting into loud guffaws, and Darcy attempting to glare at his sister, but unable as he hid a smile into his napkin.

  “Oh Lord forgive me, but bachelorhood has never conjured more appeal than at that vision! Shame, Georgie, shame.”

  “Do not be so hasty, Uncle. Miss Bingley will be visiting over the holidays so you can reconsider the notion at your leisure.”

  “Enough,” Darcy
said with a sharp laugh, “joking at another's expense is unattractive and uncharitable, no matter how humorous. Remember this, Georgiana.”

  “Yes, brother.”

  Lizzy patted her hand. “Speaking of hospitals and superior expertise, what of the hospital in Matlock, George? Other events transpired and I never heard the outcome of your interview.”

  George laughed. “Yes indeed, other events transpired.” At dinner on the night Lizzy went into labor, George had casually mentioned that he was offered a position at Matlock Hospital. The burst of hopeful delight that flowed through each of their hearts was powerful. Questions had poured forth, but George became evasive after the declaration, skillfully diverting the topic.

  “It was intriguing. The facility is fairly modern for a rural establishment. The board approved of my credentials, naturally, and personally I was a smash.” He grinned then shrugged. “I was guaranteed a position, but have not decided for certain.”

  “You know you are welcome to stay at Pemberley as long as you wish, whatever your decision.”

  “Thank you, William.”

  “Alexander would miss you and I rather appreciate having a physician in residence.” Darcy smiled at his uncle. “Additionally, the community could use a doctor of your talent, but do not let the praise swell your ego any further!”

  “That would be impossible, I fear. In all seriousness, I confess I have enjoyed my time home more than I imagined I would. It is a difficult decision.” His grave tone touched all of them. For months now they had all privately wondered what his plans were, hoping and praying that he would stay.

  “Oh, Uncle! You must stay through Christmas at the very least!” Georgiana pleaded.

  “That I can promise, my dear. I refuse to sail in the winter.” He shuddered. “I am a very poor sailor and the Channel crossing is hideous in the best of weather. No, I fear you are stuck with me until spring!”

  Georgiana clapped in glee, Lizzy stating, “That is excellent news! We Darcys are all quite selfish, Uncle, so garner no qualms. We desire your presence for as many months or years as you wish to grace us. And besides, my father would be crushed not to have another chance to triumph at a game of chess.”

  The next day Darcy was sitting in his study attending to a short stack of papers that he could not ignore. It involved details on the horse breeding program, a lengthy report necessary to complete per the request of Duke Grafton. Darcy was poring over a comprehensive list of the current stable stock when an epiphany struck him: the perfect endowment—deeding the ownership title of Wolfram to Alexander Darcy. His heart began to race and within seconds he was dashing from the room to find his wife, skidding to a stop midway down the hall when additional enlightenment dawned: Lizzy may not be so overjoyed at the idea.

  For a second, just the barest second, the old dominant arrogance flared and he thought, Who cares what Elizabeth thinks? I am his father, after all! However, this treasonous thought was rapidly smothered. Instead, he paced in the corridor for quite some time while running over the various ways to broach the topic and make it palatable to his non-horse-loving wife. In the end he threw up his hands, literally, and just decided to be honest. This approach worked the best in the majority of situations anyway.

  Luckily he found Lizzy in the nursery actively nursing their days-old baby and wearing the beautifully wistful expression dominant when Alexander was at her breast. At moments like this he could probably sell her on anything! For a spell he lost himself to the identical exalted abstraction, forgetting why he had come in the joy of gazing at his son, but eventually rational memory reasserted itself.

  “Dearest, I came here specifically to ask your opinion on a matter that I have been contemplating. It will come as no surprise to you, of course, to hear that my greatest hope is that Alexander, as well as all our children, would inherit my love of horses and riding.”

  “I doubt if that will be an issue to worry over.”

  Darcy smiled. “Well, I do pray for the desire to be imbedded in his soul as it always was in mine, but I do not wish to be presumptuous. However, with that supposition in mind I have an urge to gift Alexander a horse, but not just any horse. Wolfram is who I am thinking of. He was born on the very night that you came here as my wife, you have bonded with him to a degree, and as the offspring of Parsifal I know he is of the very best lineage and dear to me.” He shrugged. “The latter reasoning is merely sentimental on my part, but there it is.”

  Lizzy was smiling softly, but her eyes were slightly disturbed. “I think it a lovely idea, but will not Wolfram be too old for Alexander to ride?”

  Darcy laughed at her ignorance. “Oh no! A well cared for, sturdy thoroughbred can live for twenty-five to thirty years easily, often more although not ridable in its seniority. Wolfram will be in his prime when Alexander transitions from pony to horse. They will have years together. My first stallion, Pericles, was given me by my grandfather when I was nine and I rode him exclusively until I was twenty-one. He was my friend and loyal companion. He only died four years ago, but could no longer run as fast as I wished nor jump fences. Parsifal was of Pericles's lineage, his grandson actually, but still a colt. Nonetheless, I was in love. I rode various horses for a couple years until he was mature enough to carry my bulk in the demanding way I required.” He laughed, closing his eyes in memory. “Mr. Thurber was nigh on to throttling me I think as I haunted the stables incessantly. He was new to the position of head groomsman and not yet familiar with my personal involvement. He grew accustomed to me in time. Anyway, I insisted on caring for Parsifal myself, no one else was to break him or train him or ride him, ever.” He looked at Lizzy with serious eyes, one finger stroking over Alexander's cheek absently. “The relationship between a man and his horse can be a strong bond, Elizabeth. I want Alexander to experience that if possible. As for Wolfram, he is a special horse and will be perfect for our son until he is an adult and can pick a replacement as I did. Does this meet with your approval?”

  Lizzy nodded, but her eyes were yet mildly troubled. Darcy chuckled, bending to bestow a light kiss. “I can read your thoughts, Mrs. Darcy. Have no fear. I will not be trudging through the snow with our fragile infant in my arms to be introduced to his future steed.” He kissed her again and then kissed Alexander's hand before rising to leave. “Spring will be soon enough!” And with that final declaration and a roguish grin, he departed.

  The proper documents were signed and notarized, ownership of one Wolfram deeded to Alexander Darcy of Pemberley. The new owner was unimpressed, not even opening his eyes when a proud father informed him of the transfer.

  The first week passed blissfully. Alexander settled into a fairly regular routine, eating every three to four hours on the button all through the day, filling his belly to satiation finally enough to sleep for roughly five to six hours through the night. His parents had no comparison, but felt that he was overall a temperate baby. He assuredly had a temper, primarily displayed when he was hungry and when the, in his opinion, time-consuming silliness of diaper changing took precedence over his empty stomach. However, the very second the exposed nipple came within range of his seeking mouth, serenity and happiness as well as blessed silence descended. Once sated, generally handed to a waiting father for burping, Alexander was bonelessly lax.

  “He is rather reminiscent of an inebriated person, limbs useless with eyes rolled backward and mouth widely open,” Darcy stated with a warm chuckle. “Drunk on milk, my precious?” He held his son on his shoulder, garments well protected with a cloth after lessons learned previously much to Samuel's dismay, gently patting his back. The spellbound father swayed slowly, wisely not wishing to churn a stomach full of milk, wiping the corners of the infant's mouth where remnants of his meal pooled. Alexander released a satisfied burp and slept on. “There's a good boy. Such a strong lad you are, yes. So sweet you are, my little love, Papa's little man.”

  His tender murmurings continued. Lizzy observed with a smile from the rocking chair while reclaspi
ng her dress and adjusting her bosoms for comfort. Now that her milk production was fully established, Lizzy discovered the painful reality of a heavy breast, quite obviously not an issue ever encountered in her life! During her pregnancy the increased ampleness of her bosom, although extreme compared to her pre-gravid state, was far from the generous volume gifted to seemingly the majority of women. The normal application of gathers and inset stays to her gowns was more than adequate to support her altered physique. This was not the case now. Lizzy was frankly shocked at the affect of lactation on the size of her breasts, easily double her pregnant mass. The strain placed on her thin shoulder and chest muscles was considerable.

  Luckily Mrs. Hanford had some experience in this matter. The nanny was not an overly large woman, and although beefier than Lizzy it was clear that there were similarities in bust to frame ratios. Sweetly and tactfully, she had approached her mistress with suggestions prior to Alexander's birth. An appeal to Madame du Loire had yielded an abundance of specifically designed gowns and stays for a nursing woman. The undergarments were fairly comfortable, prettily detailed, constructed of silky fabrics, and aided in restoring tone to her abdomen, but primarily it was the relief in having a support for her weighty breasts that was appreciated.

  Darcy had extended no specific comments regarding his wife's lushly endowed bust line, but his eyes betrayed his thoughts. Obviously making love to her was out of the question for the time being, Darcy far too content overall to lament the necessary waiting, but his sleepy straying hands, which inevitably ended up cupping a breast, proved the train of his private musings. Watching Alexander nurse was elating for the delight in observing the natural activity of a healthy son, but also for the titillation of staring at her creamy bosom with imaginings running amok for when she was capable of resuming marital relations.

  Darcy kissed the baby's head, sitting in the chair beside Lizzy and turning a radiant face to his equally radiant wife. “I do not think we shall hear a peep out of him for a while. He feels a bit heavier, have you noticed?”