Having missed both the actual day of his son’s birth as well as the time he turned one, Darcy awaited eagerly Bennet’s second birthday. The night prior, Darcy went to the nursery just as his son was being prepared for sleep. He had purchased a small pony, which even now was happily frisking about in the stable. Darcy found himself quite at sixes and sevens with his own anticipation of his son’s joy in the animal. Bennet was quite sleepy, but still enjoyed having his Papa put him securely into his bed.
“Bennet, I am eager to celebrate your birthday. Two years old! Quite a young gentleman.”
“Mama says cake,” Bennet replied.
“Ah, yes. A special cake for a most wonderful son.” Darcy stroked his boy’s soft, rounded cheek. He could not help himself, and asked, “So tell me, is there anything you would especially wish for your birthday? A toy or…perhaps—”
“Butter,” Bennet replied sleepily.
“Butter?”
“Butter,” Bennet confirmed. “No sisters, just butters.”
Darcy sat back, surprised by the request. Bennet had never seemed particularly impressed by his interactions with other children, but it seemed that might be changing.
“Well, brothers do take time to arrive, my darling. I do not think I can procure one for you by tomorrow.”
Bennet mumbled something, having already succumbed to sleep. Darcy watched him for a few pleasant moments before going to the drawing room. Elizabeth was therein, playing some Christmas carols on the pianoforte. He joined her, always loving it when she sang to him.
When she paused, he informed her, “Our son would like a brother for his birthday.”
She laughed. “Is that all? Let me see whether I have one in a closet somewhere.”
He chuckled, his hand tracing her spine. After a short pause, he asked, “Bennet was…well, it was an easy birth, was it not? I believe you said it was.”
“Oh yes. Nothing to it at all.”
“So you would like more children or…”
She turned towards him then, giving him her attention in full. “I would love more children.”
“Is that so?” He leaned in to give her a series of light kisses on her mouth. “How many?”
“A lot. Ten, twelve. So many that we would run out of names for them all.”
“Seems we had better get started, then.” He rose and quickly swooped her into his arms, ready to take her up to their bed, but her next words stopped him.
“If memory serves,” she said with a little wink, “that fainting couch over there does very nicely.”
Thus, the Darcys spent Bennet’s birthday bleary-eyed, tired, and more in love with one another than ever. As Bennet stood in the stable shrieking with delight at his pony (who he named Horse, after being discouraged from naming it Pop), Elizabeth remarked, “This feels very much like the first days we were married, this feeling of…happy lethargy.”
She gave her husband a smile that seemed innocent, but there was a naughty twinkle in her eyes.
“I like that,” Darcy mused, and after seeing that the stable boy and Bennet were occupied with Horse, pulled her closer. “A felicitous fatigue, you might call it.”
Elizabeth laughed just a bit, then with an arch look said, “A satisfied sleepiness perhaps?”
Darcy shook his head instantly. “Oh no, Mrs Darcy, not at all. I have missed you a very, very long time. Last night, delightful as it was, was not nearly satisfactory.”
Elizabeth blushed and looked at him, murmuring, “I have missed you as well.”
Spying the stable hand coming towards them, Darcy quickly said, “I adore you.”
“As do I, you,” she said with a tender look that nearly melted him.
About the Author
Amy D’Orazio is a long time devotee of Jane Austen and fiction related to her characters. She began writing her own little stories to amuse herself during hours spent at sports practices and the like and soon discovered a passion for it. By far, however, the thing she loves most is the connections she has made with readers and other writers of Austenesque fiction.
Amy currently lives in Pittsburgh with her husband and daughters, as well as three Jack Russell terriers who often make appearances (in a human form) in her book.
A Wilful Misunderstanding is Amy’s sixth book.
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