"I am giving her sound advice."
"By likening your nephew to a fortress? You make him sound terrifying. He is just a little shy, dear. Really. And perhaps a little . . . sedate. But Fitzwilliam is an absolutely lovelyperson."
"I am glad to hear you say so." This was spoken by Mr. Darcy—my Mr. Darcy—as he strode into the room.
My husband greeted his aunt and uncle, not effusively but warmly. To me he gave a curt nod.
Yes, an absolutely lovely person.
Fine. I perhaps deserved this less-than-affectionate greeting after last night's debacle. But he had been kind to me during my self inflicted illness and I had hoped we would continue being kind to each other today. Apparently not. The man was a fortress indeed. And crowning his walls were iron spikes.
"What could have possibly taken you away from your charming bride so early this morning?" Rebecca chided playfully almost as soon as Darcy had sat down.
In his usual succinct fashion Darcy replied, "I had things I needed to do."
Wonderfully vague. I suppose I could take heart in the knowledge he did not leave to idle about.
Either Rebecca understood the futility of pressing Darcy or she was too eager to move to the subject she was most desirous to speak of to bother, for she allowed this paltry explanation to pass without comment. Positively vibrating with joy, she said, "Well, I am so glad you have arrived. It would be better perhaps to wait until a time Georgiana—and Constance, of course, are here, but I can barely contain my excitement. It has been so difficult to keep it just amongst James and me all these weeks.
She paused to draw a deep breath, heightening the suspense. "Though I am certain you cannot yet tell, I am enceinte."
"Indeed?" my husband asked his tone infused with just the correct amount of incredulity. He kept his countenance perfectly. I, however, could not do so. I was forced to bite the insides of my mouth to keep from laughing. Oh goodness, did she really believe no one could tell?
"I have surprised you! You see, James, I told you no one could tell. You only notice now because I told you. You did not suspect?" she asked turning her attention back to Darcy.
"Not at all."
No one should be able to lie so confidently.
She looked to me and I managed what I hoped was an encouraging smile.
"I thought I might be too old to have children—such a wonderful surprise. James and I are so pleased."
The look on her husband's face suggested his feelings might be slightly less than pleased. In fact, the poor man looked queasy. Noticing my interest, he schooled his expression into something almost like elation.
Rebecca's further effusions were interrupted by a racket in the hall. A moment later a dog burst into the room, tiny legs carrying its over-plump body with astonishing alacrity as it yapped wildly.
"Sir Seb!" Rebecca cried in greeting to the mongrel, which only made it bark all the more excitedly. My husband plucked a biscuit from the tea tray and lobbed it at the dog. It fell instantly silent.
The butler arrived on the heels of the corpulent canine looking thoroughly discomposed.
"Mrs. Margaret Darcy and Miss Dorothea Darcy," he announced with as much decorum as he could manage.
"Ahem," prompted a voice from the entryway.
With great reluctance he added, "And Sir Sebastian Shivershanks." The butler shuddered delicately. Clearly it was beneath his dignity to announce a dog be he a baronet or not.
Two ladies entered, one very young and one very elderly indeed.
Apparently having forgotten she was no longer her companion, Rebecca sprang forward grasping the elder lady's arm and attempting to guide her to a chair.
The lady wrenched herself away, finishing the trek across the room on her own.
"Child, I am old, not an invalid. How many times must I tell you this? If anyone needs help finding a chair, it's Dora. Goodness, someone grab her before she strolls out the window."
Dora Darcy was the superior of my husband it would seem. He might be able to read in a moving carriage, but she could read whilst walking. Not in a straight line, mind you, but walking all the same.
"Dora!" shouted the venerable Aunt Margaret.
