Page 99 of The Widower of Pemberley

Georgiana choked and spat out her coffee.

Her face was probably the reddest shade Elizabeth had ever observed on human skin.

Elizabeth tapped her on the back. “Are you well, dear sister?”

Georgiana giggled helplessly.

Darcy sipped his coffee, admirably keeping a calm mask.

There was, however, colour in his face that suggested embarrassment, and a glint in his eyes that showed amusement.

They went out for their walk after breakfast, and Elizabeth was glad to see that Emily was well recovered from her illness, without even a lingering cough.

When they returned to the house, Darcy asked Elizabeth, “Do you have more letters that you wish to write?”

She blushed, not quite knowing why. “I do.”

“Then you should take the time to write them,” he said in a serious but warm tone, “and we shall all sit together in the morning room while you do so.”

The previous letters had been to Jane and her father; Elizabeth began one next to Charlotte—a letter in which she was able to tell her friend that early appearances suggested she had been right when she said that Elizabeth would be happy with Mr. Darcy.

After that there was time to write half a letter to Mrs. Gardiner before Emily insisted that she have an opportunity to draw as well.

Her ink-stained apron and writing set were brought out, and then she was allowed to draw while Elizabeth and Darcy supervised her.

After this, Emily collected her ‘portfolio’ and dragged Elizabeth to the sofa so that she could show her every single one of the drawings that she had saved.

They were…the drawings of a child.

Even though Elizabeth’s eyes were busy looking the drawings over, and her mouth was kept busy praising Emily for their fineness and how they all were very like whatever it was that they were supposed to be very like, her mind was on Darcy and the way that he had behaved that morning.

He had heard what she said about not having enough time to write, and he was seemingly determined that she would henceforth have every chance.

Rather than being offended when she talked about a difficulty that she had, he had seen the reasonableness of her complaint and acted to help her.

She felt happy, warm…she wanted to embrace him and kiss him again.

“Oh, wait, what is this?”

Elizabeth took the piece of paper that Emily was showing her from the girl’s grasp. “Why, that is your father’s hand.”

“Papa was writing on it. But my drawing is much better thanhiswriting.”

Out of natural curiosity, Elizabeth tried to read Darcy’s neat, small handwriting that Emily had scribbled over.

Considerations on my intention to find a second wife:

Emily must have a mother.

That was followed by a section that Elizabeth could not read, and then the line:

My true nature will be understood in time by my child.

The writing beneath that was obscured by what Elizabeth, with more kindness than honesty, told Emily was an excellent elephant. Privately, she thought it looked a little like a shark.

Below that, Darcy had written:

I must marry to secure an heir, which is necessary as Pemberley is entailed.