He carefully wiped his wife’s tears, then took the baby from her arms. “She is a bit small,” he observed, cradling her gently.
“That is not unusual for being a little early,” the midwife said. “But she is breathing just fine. Strong lungs, that one.”
Mr. Bennet looked down at the wrinkled little face, her eyelids fluttering in sleep. “She is beautiful,” he murmured. “What shall we name her?”
Fanny wiped her eyes and managed a smile. “You chose Jane for my mother. I thought perhaps we could choose your mother’s name this time.”
He looked up quickly. “Elizabeth?”
She nodded.
He glanced back down at the tiny girl. “Elizabeth Marie Bennet,” he said softly. “Welcome, little one.”
Just then, Fanny gave a sharp cry.
He rose to his feet at once. “What is it?”
The midwife hurried to her side, frowning. “She should not be in pain. The afterbirth should have already—” She paused, pressing her hands to Fanny’s abdomen.
Her eyes widened.
“There is another babe,” she said in astonishment.
“What?” Had the moment not been so serious, Mr. Bennet would have laughed at his and his wife’s concurrent gasps.
“Twins,” the woman confirmed, and then—without asking—Hill was at his side, firmly guiding him toward the door.
“This is no place for a man,” the lady’s maid said.
Then shut the door in his face.
Still holding the baby, Mr. Bennet walked in a daze down the hallway and made his way to the study.
Stephens stood immediately at the sight of him.
“Mr. Bennet?” he asked, his gaze flicking to the infant. “Is everything…?”
“Apparently my wife is having two children today,” Mr. Bennet said faintly, and sank into his chair, still cradling Elizabeth in his arms.
A tiny wail began to build in the baby’s chest, and he rose again, bouncing her gently.
“There, there, little Lizzy,” he whispered. “None of that. All is well.”
He looked up at where Stephens said learning forward, concentrating on the babe. “Would you like to hold her?” he asked.
“May I?”
“Of course. I meant it when I said that I would like for my children to consider you family.” Mr. Bennet carefully passed his daughter in the valet’s arms.
Stephens looked down with quiet awe. “She is perfect,” he said.
Elizabeth squirmed and made another noise, rooting gently against the fabric of his waistcoat. He raised his brows. “Alas,” he said dryly. “I believe I am the wrong person to meet her current needs.”
Mr. Bennet chuckled and took her back. “Indeed. Let me bring her to the nursery. And I believe we must find a second wet-nurse—immediately. Please send someone to the village to make inquiries.”
As Stephens hurried off to do as he was bid, Mr. Bennet made his way up to the third floor. The nursery was warm and quiet, the windows curtained against the fading afternoon light. Inside, the nanny was playing with Jane on the rug, and the wet-nurse sat in a rocking chair, eyes widening at the sight of Mr. Bennet bringing the new baby himself.
“This is Elizabeth,” he said briefly. “I cannot stay long, as there is another child coming. Twins, as it happens.”
