Part 2

I had just finished Mrs Darcy's letter, and was still thinking over its contents.

I was rather shocked to have my steward deliver me a letter from my wife while I was working in my private study. At first I panicked, is there something wrong with her? But that thought was quickly banished from my mind. If that was the case, she would have sent a servant or at least a short note, and this looked like a rather thick letter.

When I opened it, I was utterly astonished to read that it told the story of the day at Rosings when she proposed. We had talked about that day before, but it was still enjoyable to read it all from her point of view. I laughed once again at the recollection of all the silly things we had said and done.

And then I came to the last sentence, to the part -

I slowly looked up from the letter in utter amazement. The sight that met my eyes was my dearest Elizabeth sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace, unwaveringly staring at me. My minx of a wife had snuck into the study while I was absorbed in her letter. She wore the same impish, mischievous smile she had while proposing to me that day. Oh, how could I resist that smile?

I had but a moment to observe all this, as I stood up from behind my desk and strode to her in three large steps. Never before had her petite form and natural beauty been more keen. Without a word from either of us, I sat down next to her. I leaned forward to whisper in my wife's ear, "Yes".

When I pulled back, the smug expression in her face had given way to confusion. I smiled triumphantly, for it was not often that I had the pleasure of confusing my intelligent, witty partner in wedlock."What is the matter my love?" I asked with a smirk of my own, "Do you not like to be given the vaguest answer that could be given under our current circumstances?"

That brought a smile back to her face, and she smilingly said, "Touché, sir".

"Yes, we do have a family tradition regarding the second child's name," I explained. "I am surprised that you have not yet puzzled it out for yourself. For many generations the second eldest Darcy child is given a name which combines the parent's names. You haven't noticed that Georgiana's name is a combination of George and Anne?" Lizzy looked thoughtful when she gave her answer, "Yes I have noticed that. But I only thought, and rather hoped, that this was only a whim of your parents. It seems we have a bit of a problem."

"Yes, I have thought on the subject before, and we are in quite a predicament. Just imagine! Fitzabeth Darcy" I said with a laugh.

"Elizabill" my wife suggested jokingly.

"Willabeth"

"Bethiam"

"Fitzel"

"Liziam"

We both burst out laughing, quite like that memorable day at Rosings.

"Poor child!" Elizabeth exclaimed, reverently passing her hand over her abdomen. Through all of our teasing the reality that she was once more carrying our child, had not yet reached me. A huge grin spread over my face and I believe at that moment I made a striking resemblance to my friend Bingley.

"So we are to have another little one!" I joyfully said as I embraced my wife.

She laughed at me, "Do you only realise that now, Fitzwiliam?" I smiled sheepishly at her. "I confess, everything has happened so quickly since I have finished your letter, the reality is still sinking in. Luckily we still have some months to get used to the thought, and choose a name."

"I think I can help you on that score. The Bennets also have a family tradition for the second born's name. For many generations we second children have been named after great monarchs. This tradition usually only follows the male Bennet line, but considering I do not have a brother, I see no reason that we cannot carry on with this tradition, if only for one more generation."

And so, seven months later I was holding sweet little James John Darcy in my arms, the happiest father in all the world. But my wife and I had long ago agreed that we would not let a Darcy tradition slip away as easily as that.

Two decades later

"Come, Darcy. I must have you dance!"

Bennet Anthony Darcy looked at his cousin Bingley in great annoyance. Although he had inherited his mother's natural good humour, he also had his father's abhorrence for large society gatherings.

"I know how you love to dance, and I daresay there are an abundance of pretty ladies you could choose from," Charles Bingley Jr. prompted his cousin with the same good humoured stubbornness of his father and namesake.

Bennet only scoffed and replied, "You know that I only enjoy dancing when society is not planning my wedding while I'm dancing the first set with a lady. Mothers are so eager to have their daughters agreeably settled. Since I came out into society I understand my father's strange behaviour in public and my grandfather's love of book rooms much better."

"Well let me at least introduce you to a few young ladies so that you could have some stimulating conversation," Jr suggested. "I hear that everyone is talking about some new book from that author friend of yours, what was his name again?"

"Dickens; Charles Dickens. I'm surprised you cannot even remember someone who's name you share."

"Don't raise your eyebrow at me cousin; you look just like your mother when you do that".

Bennet smirked and replied, "I take that as a great compliment, thank you Jr."

"Now come on or I'll tell that selfsame mother that you spent the whole evening sulking in a corner." Bingley said while dragging his friend out into the room. His cousin made a final futile attempt, "Darcys do not sulk".

"That's what you all say," he replied with a roll of the eyes. They approached a group of young women. "Ladies, allow me to introduce my cousin, Mr Bennet Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire. Darcy, I'm delighted to introduce you to Lady Merida Carlisle," said Bingley pointing to the nearest girl.

'No, Carlisle Darcy would not sound pleasant. And the second child? Berida? This one won't do.' Darcy thought.

Moving through the group Charles Jr introduced everyone to Bennet who, in turn mentally assessed the name of every girl as he had done with Lady Carlisle.

'Dankworth Darcy? Sorry Miss, I'll have to let you pass. Hough Darcy. Not too bad, but Emmenie? I shall not even attempt to make a name combination there.' His thoughts were vivid and impatient.

And so it continued until Bingley came to the last pair of ladies. "And finally we have the lovely Miss Lewis, and her sister Miss Mary Lewis"

Ah! Lewis would make quite a lovely name. But Mary wouldn't work, I would continually think of my aunt. What could the other's Christian name be? Well, the eldest is remarkably beautiful and I might gather her name from a conversation while we dance. Besides, I don't spot any matchmaking mama's nearby.

"Miss Lewis," he spoke up for the first time "Would you allow me the honour of the next dance?" The lady seemed pleased, and graciously accepted his offer. As they were engaged in the dance, Bennet put some of the conversational skills his mother had taught him, to good use. "If you do not mind my asking Madam, but what is your given name?"

She gave him a sideways glance and replied, "And what if I do mind, Sir."

He was taken quite aback by this answer, and tried to explain best he could, "Oh see, it is only a little trifling fancy of mine. I like to know the given names of all the ladies I am acquainted with."

"You did not inquire about Miss Woodhouse's name, Sir" she said with a mischievous grin.

You are quite observant, aren't you? Well, if only you imagined how strange 'Woodhouse Darcy heir to Pemberley' would sound, you would understand my reasons!

"I'm afraid I cannot give a reason for that, Miss Lewis. I apologise, for I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours." She only laughed merrily and said, "Oh, it is no problem Mr Darcy, for I never allow my pleasure to depend on people I don't know." And then she added, almost as an afterthought, "Except maybe that author Mr Dickens."

"You read Charles Dickens' works?" Bennet asked in surprise. "Oh yes!" The lady exclaimed. "He is one of my favourite novelists, do you enjoy his stories?"

His eyes lit up in delight, for there were few things that exited him more than modern literature. "As a matter of fact, I am a great friend of his. We met in London several years ago."

And so their dance passed quickly in animated conversation. By the end of the night, young Darcy even managed to find out the lady's name, through a secondary source, of course. Anita Lewis. It was perfect, and Bennet Anthony Darcy returned home in high spirits.

Five years, nine months and seven days later

Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth Darcy stood in the Pemberley nursery, quietly watching their youngest grandchild sleeping in the cradle. Behind them played the infant's older brother, Lewis.

"Only one week old and she has already stolen my heart." the elder Mr Darcy whispered into his wife's ear while thoughtfully fingering her greying hair. She smiled up at her beloved husband and whispered back, "Indeed she is quite the little angel. But I hope you shall keep a piece of your heart for our future grandchildren. Rest assured, I shall pester all our children until we have at least a dozen little ones running around Pemberley." The years had never succeeded in robbing her of her mischievous and teasing nature, nor her habitual raise of the eyebrow.

"Well, my love," her husband replied with a soft chuckle as to not awake the sleeping baby, " Twelve grandchildren do not seem like such an impossible task when you consider that we have six children to fulfil the duty."

"Yes, Fitzwilliam I'm aware of that. We had quite run out of family traditions for names by the time we got to little Marguerite," she said thinking of their fourth child.

At that moment James, or JJ as his mother jokingly liked to call him, poked his head into the room. "Mother, Father; the carriages are ready to take us to the church. You'll have to leave Lewis and Benita in the hands of the nursemaids. You wouldn't want to miss your youngest child's wedding, now would you?"

The End