"Rebecca thinks kindly of everyone. She would deem any blackguard who presents himself as a suitor 'a lovely person'. And sense does not protect one from a bad marriage. Constance gave every appearance of good sense yet she married Vane."
I started to point out that sons were just as likely to make a disastrous marriage as daughters. However he seemed earnest in his distress. Such a reminder could hardly help his nerves.
"You must promise me that you and Fitzwilliam will look after her . . . if I'm gone."
"I can make that promise for the both of us easily," I said with a smile, thinking of Darcy's penchant for involving himself in the lives of his friends and family, it seemed unlikely he would refuse. "You would find it more difficult to convince Darcynotto meddle. Me as well."
"I will hold you to it," he said, "If you let any daughter of mine marry a foo,l I will haunt you from beyond the grave."
My chuckle was drown out by the sound of a second wail joining the first. All of James's attention was once again on the door to the bedchamber.
Several minutes later Mrs. Vane eased into the sitting room, a swaddled infant tucked in each arm.
"The midwife is seeing to Rebecca. I've brought you your daughters."
James approached timidly as though the little bundles contained vicious beasts. "Rebecca is well?"
"She is in perfect health," Mrs. Vane assured.
"And she is quite finished now? Not another three or four in there?"
"Quite finished," she replied succinctly, her face illustrating perfectly how tiresome she found his wit.
"Good, this is as much as I can handle."
"Well, aren't you going to hold them?" Mrs. Vane asked impatiently after several moments passed during which James just stood there fidgeting stupidly.
"I'm not certain I should. I might break them. You know, I haven't held an infant since you were foist upon me. I turned you over to the nurse as quickly as possible. That was some years ago—I was in university. I avoided my nieces and nephew entirely until they were out of leading strings." He was babbling. A man who had probably been in countless dangerous situations was frightened of his own infant daughters.
Mrs. Vane was having none of it. "Stop being a useless ninny. Here, make a cradle with your arm."
"My God, they are so small. Should they be so small?" James whispered once both bundles were placed in his arms. He was still standing rather rigidly, but his previous look of terror had morphed into a look of wonder.
"I understand it is normal for twins to be a bit small. They are healthy."
"Niece, come, have a look at my progeny. Stand in awe of their beauty."
I had remained seated, wishing James a moment of privacy. I stood now and crossed the room to get a better look.
"Well, in all honesty they are wrinkled and red and not particularly beautiful at the moment. But I feel certain they will be beautiful. And clever. Look at this one, she has the Darcy sardonic smile perfected already. I am in so much trouble. Perhaps it is better if I do perish before they grow up and I have to duel all their suitors," said James.
"James, do not talk so wildly," scolded Mrs. Vane.
"Do not nag me, Constance. Nagging is not a privilege of little sisters. Little sisters are for spoiling with sweets and when they are grown one gets to terrorize their beaux. On that subject, which one is the younger?"
"How can it matter? They were born only moments apart."
"It will the first question they ask. They are Darcys. We are competitive and relentless. You know that."
Before Mrs. Vane could make any retort, another woman entered the room, presumably the midwife. "The lady wishes to see you now," she announced.
Rebecca was propped up in bed, still in the yellow gown, hair beyond wild. I have never seen anyone smile so brightly while looking so haggard.
"They are perfect, my love," said James.
"I know. Well done of me, wasn't it?"
She glanced past her husband to where I hovered at the door. "Aren't they lovely, Lizzy?" she asked.
