the country girl of her youth. She had worn her simplest gown, a lightweight muslin frock of forest green, and no jewels other than her wedding rings and dainty diamond drop earrings. As inconspicuous as she deemed herself, the truth was that she stood out in the crowd. However, she remained oblivious to this for the most part, simply enjoying traversing through her old haunts.
Memories assaulted her senses every step of the way. Naturally, the majority concerned exploits of her youth. Although she had only been away for half a year, she discovered bizarrely evocative reminiscences invading her consciousness every step of the way. All the thousands of sites that she had no longer heeded in her day-to-day jaunts suddenly emerged in stunning clarity with vivid images attached. What surprised her further was how many of the visions involved her husband! She could distinctly recall walking with her then fiance through these dusty streets, pointing to places as she disclosed childhood memories, glancing upward into his stoic face with the glittering eyes that revealed his pleasure in her silly stories. She smiled happily now, filing additional absurd tales to share with him later, knowing he would highly delight in them.
In need of nothing, she purchased little for herself. Her ample purse was put to better use by purchasing various odds and ends for her mother and sisters. By the end of the afternoon, they had each received several new ribbons and clothing items; Mary had also received new sheet music and four books, and Kitty embroidery essentials and perfume. Her mother was lavish in her thanks while expressing equal exuberance to all regarding her daughter's wealth. Lizzy was embarrassed and profoundly grateful that her husband was not present. Fortunately, the shopkeepers and unlucky patrons were rather accustomed to Mrs. Bennet's vocal recitations regarding the matrimonial victories of her eldest daughters.
At the butcher's shop, Lizzy bought a turkey and haunch of beef for that night's dinner to be hosted at Longbourn. The butcher, Mr. Trask, was a jovial man who was a friend to Mr. Bennet and thus well known to Lizzy.
“Miss Elizabeth, how wonderful to see you! Yes, yes, I know it is Mrs. Darcy now,” he boomed with a stout laugh, “but you shall forever be little Miss Lizzy to me.”
Elizabeth smiled warmly. “For you I will allow it, Mr. Trask. How is your wife, sir? Still putting up with you, or has she finally come to her senses and run away?”
Trask laughed, slapping his knee. “I see married life has not tamed that wit of yours, Miss Elizabeth! Well done! Your poor husband, to be saddled with such a wench!”
Lizzy assumed a mournful face. “Yes, it is a tragic affair. It is merely a matter of time ere a cell at Bedlam will be his home.”
The bantering went on for a bit more, interrupted by the entrance of Trask's son, Reynaud, the recipient of eighteen-year-old Lizzy's crush. She smiled inwardly, blushingly remembering her and Darcy's confessions of first loves and the pleasant aftermath in his study. She laughed at the past now, tremendously thankful that Reynaud had ignored her then. He glanced at her briefly and then returned for an open-mouthed stare.
“Son, you remembered Miss Elizabeth Bennet surely. Quit gaping and say hello, only be sure to address her as Mrs. Darcy or she may bite off your head!”
“Mrs. Darcy. It is nice to see you again.”
“Thank you, Mr. Trask. Are you well?”
“Quite well, thank you. How do you find… Derbyshire, was it not?”
“Correct. It is beautiful. Colder than here in the winter, with more snow, but so lovely. I understand you married recently to the former Miss Traverston.” The pleasantries continued for a bit, Trask the elder interrupting frequently to match wits with Lizzy.
Exiting the shop, Lizzy was in high spirits as they turned to proceed down the lane. It was a beautiful day, warm but not uncomfortably so, a light breeze cooling to the skin. Nonetheless, Lizzy suddenly experienced a rush of heat flow through her. She fanned herself vigorously to no avail, the flush increasing, and she grasped at Jane's arm frantically as her head began to swim alarmingly and her knees to buckle.
“Jane, I must sit down!” Luckily, there was a bench a few feet away, though Lizzy was barely sitting before faintness consumed and her world turned black. Jane efficiently took charge, sending Kitty into the nearest shop, the haberdashery, for water. Georgiana hastily assumed the task of fanning her sister-in-law, while Mary left to call for the carriage. Mrs. Bennet sat next to her daughter, dithering and chattering, but confidently and correctly announcing that the swoon was a classic symptom of pregnancy.
“Oh, yes! My nerves were horrible when I was with child. I fainted dead away more times than I can remember! Why, once I was in church and…”
Georgiana worriedly interrupted, “Perhaps we should alert my brother? He is only down the street a ways.”
“No,” Lizzy spoke weakly, “I do not wish to disturb his entertainment. This is perfectly normal, as Mama said.” Kitty returned with a glass of cool water, and Jane drenched her handkerchief to daub on Lizzy's forehead then insisted she drink the rest.
Georgiana was not convinced. “Elizabeth, he will be angry that we did not inform him. You know how he is!”
Lizzy snorted, “Oh, yes, Georgie. I know how he is! Never you mind, dearest. I will inform him, simply later instead of now, and will accept the wrath as it comes. I can deal with William.”
When the slightly tipsy and high-spirited Darcy and Bingley returned to Netherfield, barely in time to change before needing to leave for Longbourn, they discovered Jane, Georgiana, and Mary dressed and reposing in the parlor. Darcy naturally swept the room for his wife, turning his questioning gaze to Jane.
“Is Elizabeth yet upstairs?” he asked. It was an innocent question met with an odd response. Georgiana was guiltily evading his eyes, fingers fidgeting in her lap, as his did when nervous or distressed, and flushing mildly. Jane was composed, as always, yet stammered vaguely in answer.
“She is preparing for dinner, I believe. She rested earlier when we returned.”
Darcy frowned. It was nothing he could quite put his finger on, but a shiver of unease ran up his spine nonetheless. “Jane, is she well?” His tone was brisk and without waiting for her reply, he turned to his sister. “Georgiana?”
She started and flushed deeper. “She is fine, William. The fainting is natural, they say, and Mrs. Bennet told us…” But he was gone, long strides echoing down the hall.
Elizabeth was bent over the bed, fully dressed for dinner, carefully wrapping a package when her husband lunged through the door bellowing her name. She jolted in surprise, one hand moving to her heart. “William, you frightened me half to death! What in God's name—”
“Are you well?” he blurted, crossing hastily and clasping her hands as he stared fiercely into her eyes, brows tight and furrowed.
She frowned, honestly having forgotten the minor mishap of earlier. “I am fine.”
“They said you fainted! Why did you not call for me?”
“Oh bother! It happens to pregnant women, dearest. What were you going to do? Rush away from your game and carry me all the way back to Netherfield?”
“Perhaps!” he answered stubbornly. “You promised to not tax yourself, Elizabeth. Do I need to follow you everywhere?”
“I hardly think, Mr. Darcy, that walking through the short streets of Meryton qualifies as overly arduous. It could have happened just as easily in the halls of the house. Are you going to next lock me in my room?!”
“If I must, yes!” He glared and she glared back, hands on her hips.
“Try it and I will simply crawl out the window. Ask my father and he will tell you how capable I am at climbing!”
He stared for a moment, then threw up his hands with a growl and paced to the window.
A few moments later: “Here,” Elizabeth said as the package was thrust under his nose, “this is for you. A gift I purchased while exhausting myself shopping! Also, there is something adorable on the bed. I, too, think constantly of our child. I will meet you downstairs, hopefully in an improved humor!” And with a toss of her head she walked out of the room.
Darcy sighed, running a hand over his face, torn between frustration and shame. He walked to the bed. Lying there was the tiniest garment he had ever beheld: a gown in pale yellow with miniscule white pearl buttons down the front and a thin ribbon ruffle along the collar. Beside it sat a matching bonnet not much bigger than his palm and a pair of teensy satin booties edged in yellow. He picked up the shoes and plopped onto the edge of the bed, a
