Author's Notes

The final chapter, title inspired by The Beatles.

Chapter 9, And in the End, the Love We Make

It was a beautiful winter night. The sky was crisp and clear, every star a vivid diamond shining white against the endless expanse while dawn was but an abstract prospect they did not dread. Pemberley was still with nearly all of its occupants having long been in their beds by this hour.

Nearly all.

Silver and pale, the light of the full moon spilled through the lace curtains of the nursery while Elizabeth stood over the pannier awash in its glow. She was barefooted and in her nightgown as hot tears fell from her face thick and fast. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered indistinctly how it was she even had any left to shed, yet there they came, welling in her eyes with repulsive ease and deluging her cheeks with no indication of relenting.

Her fingers trembling faintly, she reached out to touch the mussed, woven blanket of the otherwise empty cradle. It was a creamy white coverlet that Mrs Reynolds had crocheted herself and given to the Darcys for the baby at Christmas. The housekeeper had done the same for Lady Anne when Darcy and Georgiana were born.

Suddenly Elizabeth was no longer only crying, but sobbing uncontrollably. She withdrew her hand and pressed it to her mouth as painful sensations came crowding in such fury until she thought she might lose herself to them. Vainly, she tried to quiet herself before she awoke the whole of the house.

"Elizabeth?" came a whisper.

She clumsily brushed at her face so Darcy would not see her tears, but there was little purpose in it. He had heard her.

Without another word, she felt him come behind her and hold her to him. There was nothing to be said, not just yet. Elizabeth closed her eyes and leaned back into her husband, letting herself draw strength from the powerful arm he had around her.

After a few minutes passed in that way, she turned more fully into his embrace so that the steady beat of his heart was at her cheek. Elizabeth looked up at Darcy to find his warm gaze fixed upon her. She stared into his eyes for moment. Her own eyes then drifted little by little down along his neck, past the breadth of his shoulders, until they came to rest on his other arm.

In the crook of it he cradled Elena Anne Darcy, pink and perfect, and slumbering quite cozily against her father's chest.

Contemplating her daughter's tiny face, hearing her make her endearing little grunting sounds in her sleep, Elizabeth's sight blurred with tears anew, but this time they were accompanied by a tremulous smile.

When one slipped from the corner of her lashes, betraying her, Darcy brought the hand he had around Elizabeth away to tip her chin up to face him again.

"What is it, Elizabeth?"

She shook her head slightly and bit her lip. "I…seeing the cradle unfilled…I could not…" her voice hitched, and another tear slid down her cheek. Even now, she could not say it. The trauma was too fresh, and anything stood to inflame the resonating pain when it had scarcely begun to be but a memory.

Darcy's thumb grazed her cheeks to dry them, all the while looking at her so tenderly that she knew he understood. He remained quiet, regarding her seriously. "There is no sense in you distressing over what could have been," he told her. "You will never find any peace in that."

It took a moment for Elizabeth to become conscious that he was repeating her own words to her, words she had told him early in the summer.

"I know, my love," she caught his hand and brought it to her lips. "I know."

He was right. If they were to heal, they had to let go.

The days between this one and that of Elena's birth had seen more than enough of such fears, enough for a lifetime…

.*.

After exhaustion claimed Elizabeth, Neil left the confinement room with a grave promise to Darcy that he would stay at Pemberley for the night to do what he could. He led Jane out, and seeing she was in no state to speak of what was happening, spared her the unhappy task of telling Georgiana, Bingley, Mrs Reynolds, and whatever portion of the staff was awake that it was possible that the Darcys' baby would not make it through the night.

Darcy numbly lifted Elizabeth from his lap laid her back against the bed. He then drew a chair to the bedside to watch over her. All along his movement through the room, he averted his eyes from the bassinet in the corner. If he looked, that would be the end of it; he would not be able to keep himself together, and he had to. For Elizabeth.

Eventually, fatigue conquered Darcy as well.

Very few hours had passed for them when Elizabeth suddenly awoke with a gasp. Sitting up, she brought her hands to her abdomen, convinced she would feel her child still inside and safe and realize that everything that had happened had been but a dream—a nightmare.

But when she met her diminished stomach, devastation came over her again with such intensity that she could no longer keep herself upright. The sole thought she knew for certain as all her desires, all her expectations, as everything came crashing down around her once more was that it had been no dream. It was real.

The pain she had suffered to bring their child into the world was nothing to this. Then, she had known the outcome to be worth any hardship. But now? What was there now but pain?

The mattress sank with the burden of more weight joining her on the bed and she could feel two arms enveloping her into their sheltering embrace. Darcy climbed between the linens with her, drawing her close to him as she wept with all the abandon of the first moment she had learned her baby would likely not survive. She could hear him whispering to her, but what she could not say. Trying to make sense of his words was too great of an effort and she could not attempt it. Instead she clung to her husband and let her tears soak the front of his shirt, his low murmuring at her ear and his warm breath against her cheek the only things that she would endure as she tried to shut out the rest of the world and its cold viciousness.

It was not supposed to be this way.

She freely gave herself over to sleep once more as it extinguished each of her senses one by one, her last coherent thought being the hope she would never have to wake up again to face what awaited her.

The next time Elizabeth opened her eyes, it was to the harsh light of morning filling the room and the sound of subdued voices close by. As she stirred, someone came to her and raised her up, trying to have her imbibe something from a glass they put to her lips. She turned away, refusing.

"Come now, Mrs Darcy," came the kind accents of Mrs Reynolds, "you must take a little of something. Just some water and a bite to eat."

Elizabeth shook her head. She wanted no food or drink. She wanted nothing, nothing that they could give her.

She felt another hand replace that of the housekeeper and press the glass to her mouth more firmly.

"Drink, Elizabeth."

It was the same tone Darcy used with the servants, the one that was an order not a request, but there was still a hint of pleading lurking somewhere beneath though he tried to conceal it. She parted her lips to sip at what he offered. The cool water served to sharpen her sight a little bit, and she gazed around the overly-bright room.

Darcy was beside her, but that she already knew. Near the door were Jane and Mrs Reynolds, both watching her with compassion. She looked away from them, not wanting to see it. Her eyes fell to the bassinet just behind her husband. The baby was not inside of it.

All of her breath forsook her. "Where is she, Fitzwilliam?" she asked panic-stricken. "She did not—she is not—" her voice broke on the word.

Darcy put the glass aside and took both her hands in his. "No, no. Neil is examining her."

She collapsed back onto her pillows, almost faint with relief. It was short-lived, however. Her baby was alive, but that solace came attached to an excruciating question: for how long?

Movement by the door caught Elizabeth's attention, and she unclosed her eyes. Neil had come, and he was supporting the newborn. She sat up at once, and in spite of herself, hope flared within her as she stared intently at the doctor's face.

Neil noticed her expression and shook his head regretfully. "There is no change."

Darcy clutched her hands more tightly. Elizabeth was shaking from head to foot as her frail hopes were dashed. The room was silent for a long while when it suddenly struck her that she had never even properly seen her daughter last night.

"Can…I hold her?" She would beg if she had to.

Neil hesitated, uncertainty of the wisdom in allowing her this etched in every line of his countenance. Little did she realize it was not for the child's health, but for Elizabeth's own sake that he was reluctant. He could not deny her, however. Much as he felt it would do no good, it was not his choice to make. Coming to a decision, he walked forward and put the baby into her arms. Though Elizabeth was not aware of it, he, Jane, and Mrs Reynolds left the room to grant the three of them this moment of privacy. All the same, Darcy turned away from the scene.

Elizabeth looked down into the swaddling, gazing hungrily. She was so very small. Her eyes were shut, of course, but she could make out the dark, thick lashes against her terribly white skin. The diminutive nose, the puckered curl of her lips, every feature of her face Elizabeth took in and committed to memory, loving her more desperately with every second that passed. In that moment, the hollow aching in her chest, the feeling her heart was shattered into a thousand pieces faded as she held her baby.

"Elena," unexpectedly broke from Elizabeth's lips as she remembered the name they had chosen for a girl. And just like that, tears gushed from her eyes. Elena. This was Elena. Her baby Elena.

"You have to fight, Elena," she told her in a distraught whisper. "I will not let you go. You have to fight. You have your father's strength, I know you can. Please, fight for me."

When Neil knocked at the door an hour later, he saw Elizabeth was still holding the baby and Darcy was looking not at them, but towards the door to Neil, more dismayed than ever.

"I am sorry, but I think perhaps you should try seeing if she will feed at all." In a more delicate voice, he said, "I do not wish to give you false hope. There is every chance she will not accept it." He tried to have Elizabeth look up from the baby to be sure she was listening to him, but to no avail. "Mrs Darcy, Mrs Reynolds will be in the gallery if you require her assistance."

It was fortunate that Neil had warned them, because if Elizabeth had expected the baby to take to her, she was mistaken. Nothing she did would induce Elena suckle or to even open her mouth. Though Mrs Reynolds was asked to come help, every effort was ineffectual. By the end of the countless attempts, Elizabeth was overwrought, and the housekeeper gently coaxed the baby from her and laid her in the bassinet so each could rest.

Though she did not wish to, Elizabeth did fall into a disturbed doze. Sometimes Jane sat with her, less often Georgiana would be there, but always present at her side was Darcy. He would not leave her. A number of times she awoke flushed and crying, and Darcy would lie with her, stroking her hair and back until she would quiet. Most times she lay passive in his arms.

The whole of the first day came and went in that manner. By the following morning, Elena was no better, and she still would not eat. Neither would Elizabeth. Although her husband had succeeded in getting her to at least take water, he could not persuade her with anything more substantial. Elizabeth became listless, and she spent greater lengths of time drifting in and out of a restless half-sleep.

During one of her more lucid moments in the early afternoon, Darcy was the only one with her, and he was trying once more to have her eat something from the tray Lily had brought earlier.

"Please, Elizabeth, just a few bites to keep up your strength."

"I am not hungry. Where is Elena?"

"She is right here," he replied, gesturing behind him towards the bassinet without a glance back. "Elizabeth, the baby may not eat, but you must—"

Darcy had only ever referred to their daughter as 'the baby,' and even through her haze, it did not escape Elizabeth's notice. "Elena, Fitzwilliam. Her name is Elena."

He looked at her with his mouth drawn into a thin line before deliberately saying, "Elena." It seemed as though the word caused him pain. A shadow passed over his features, and all at once he began with a catch in his throat, "I wish to God there was something—anything—I could—"

Elizabeth sat up so quickly, Darcy was alarmed into silence. "Do not speak to me of God, Fitzwilliam!" Her eyes, dulled with pain for almost two days now, cleared for an instant with something of their usual liveliness as anger flashed in them. "Not…not when…." She choked. Not even her own voice could turn traitor to her and utter the words that if spoken aloud would gain all the finality of the tolling of the death knell.

Grief consumed her again, and she was left without voice, without breath, and without hope. After all, what kind of God would let this happen?

Late in the evening on the second day following Elena's birth, Elizabeth was yet in her bed. Darcy was just beside her on it, and she at first assumed he had fallen asleep; however, when her eyes became accustomed to the shadowy light, she saw he was very much awake and watching her. She stared back at him, more tired than she had ever been in her life despite that she had done little but cry and sleep.

Darcy's face suddenly lost the semblance of self-control he had been feigning. "Come back to me. I cannot bear it," a single sob escaped him. "Not both of you."

For the first time in the past two days, Elizabeth met his eyes. What she found there made her feel a shame she had not known since the day he had given her his letter in Kent. Every agony of hers was reflected in his eyes. He was in pain too. How selfish she had been not to see it.

She began to press burning kisses against his brow, his cheeks, his eyelids, and finally his lips as he allowed himself to give his turbulent emotions their reign for the first time since Neil had told them the danger Elena was in. Darcy's reaction was instantaneous. They lay there crying and kissing, not with the usual intent, but as a desperate affirmation, a feverish reciprocity of reassurance they had no right to give but dared to anyway. Husband and wife endeavored to soothe one another in the face of a despair that tried to tear them asunder, their tears mingling together until they fell into sleep, tangled in each other.

Elizabeth roused some time later as awareness edged into her mind, uncertain what had been the cause. She did not open her eyes and instead clutched after the fluttering veil of sleep. Then it came again. Crying. Low and soft it reached her, but they were not the cries of a woman, nor of a man. As the sound continued, rising in volume, Elizabeth wondered why Jane did not go to Charlie.

Then her eyes flew open.

Her heart was in her throat as she wildly flung the linens away and started to her feet. Elizabeth held her breath as she looked into the bassinet.

Elena was crying, weakly, but crying all the same with her face scrunched up and her mouth open in little bleating wail.

"Oh, my darling!" Elizabeth took the baby into her arms and cradled her closely to her breast, kissing her tiny cheeks, now colored a very little bit.

She had cried more these past two days than she had in her entire life, and now her tears flowed once more, though this time it was with sheer relief and delirious ecstasy. Elizabeth attempted to hush the baby's whimpering, but only halfheartedly; she could not help but want her to go on crying forever because she thought it was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard.

"Fitzwilliam," she breathed, touching his shoulder as she sat beside him. He awoke at once, pushing himself to sit up, terror of the worst blazing in him as he searched Elizabeth's face.

He heard Elena before he saw her. Elizabeth could see the moment the baby's cries registered in his head. Darcy's frantic eyes froze, lingering on her as a tremor seemed to run through him. Then, slowly, he looked down. It was the first time he had looked Elena in the face since she was born, and the sight of his daughter stole his breath away. He brought a shaking hand to her lightly brush her head, almost afraid, but the instant he made contact with the warm baby skin, there was no fear. Darcy's face was transcendent, and Elizabeth knew from that moment on, she would have another with whom she had to share her husband's heart.

Darcy kissed Elizabeth before leaning his brow against hers so both of them could gaze upon the new little life they two had created.

.*.

In the days following Elena's recovery, she improved in health steadily, and by the time she was seven days old, it was as if she had always been the blooming infant she now was. Neil continued to stay on at Pemberley until five days had passed without her constitution showing any indication of declining, and he declared her out of danger.

Georgiana adored her niece from the first. However, it was not until the doctor left the house with the conviction Elena would flourish that she worked up the courage to ask if she might hold her.

"Am I holding her properly?" Georgiana asked nervously from the divan.

"You are doing wonderfully, Georgiana," Elizabeth assured her.

She looked back down at the baby in her arms reverently. "She is so beautiful."

"I think so too."

Darcy watched his sister, his daughter, and his wife from his place at the small library desk. Strictly speaking, he should have been in his study tending to estate business, but he found he was nigh incapable of straying far from Elena. He had brought some correspondence and documents to look over nearby as an alternative, but neither would that do.

As Elizabeth caught him looking up from his papers yet again, she gave him a teasing smile. "Are we distracting you, Fitzwilliam? Should I take Elena to the nursery so you can give your attention to another quarter?"

Darcy grinned as he dropped his eyes to the letter his solicitor had sent, but he could make no sense of it because his whole interest was reserved and invested entirely elsewhere. Elizabeth knew very well he would only follow if she did indeed go upstairs.

The door from the corridor opened, and in came Bingley holding both of Charlie's hands in his own as his son wobbled into the library, Jane just behind the pair of them. Cautiously, Bingley released his purchase to let him on his own, hovering. Charlie covered half the distance to the divan with teetering steps until he lost his balance and tumbled onto his behind. His father was upset he had not been quick enough to catch him, but Charlie, unhurt by his abrupt change in stance, only gave a burble of frustration and dropped forward onto his hands and knees to crawl for the remainder of the way to his destination. Elizabeth and Georgiana laughed.

"Nearly, Charlie," Elizabeth told her nephew as she scooped him from the floor by her skirts. She kissed the top of his head and sat him in her lap.

"I tell you, you should have seen him at Verburry," Bingley began. "Raised himself right to his feet with the leg of an armchair!"

"You have told them so, Charles," Jane said with a hint of mirthful affection at her husband's excitement. "At least three times by my count."

Bingley turned sheepishly to his wife. "Have I?"

Darcy shifted his gaze over to the foursome on the divan. Elizabeth was talking quietly to Charlie as he thoughtfully regarded his cousin. Never having seen another so close in age and size before, Charlie had been fascinated by Elena ever since the first time he had seen her. Every so often, he would reach out a hand to touch her as if wanting to see what would happen when he did. Elizabeth or Jane would remind him that he had to be gentle, but Charlie somehow already seemed to know, and only ever nudged her with delicate prods.

"Lizzy, have you taken your tea?" Darcy heard Jane ask from across the room.

Elizabeth looked up from the children. "Yes, Jane."

"And something to eat?"

"Yes, Jane." Only Darcy noticed when she made slight face.

For the past week, Elizabeth had endured Jane's upsurge of mollycoddling with a mixture of amusement, exasperation, and contrition. The chief of her patience for it was sustained only by the remorse she felt over the pain she had given her poor sister in the days just after Elena's birth when she refused to eat or leave her bed. Secretly, Darcy was glad to have Jane as his accomplice on that front.

Then again, the entire staff was also seeing that their mistress and master were well tended to. The whole of the household was overjoyed that all had come to such a happy conclusion. There was a child at Pemberley again, the child of one most had known as a boy and watched grow himself over the years no less. While Jane, Bingley, and Georgiana had been told at once that the baby had rallied, it was not until the second morning after Elena had shown her first favorable sign and Neil was confident she would only progress that Darcy went down to the servant hall to inform them of it. More than one of the women gathered there had burst into tears, among them Mrs Reynolds and Lily, the latter of which threw herself into the arms of the flabbergasted groomsman James unobserved in the uproar.

Elena began to cry.

"Oh no, do not cry," Georgiana said anxiously. She looked to Elizabeth as the baby continued to fuss. "I have upset her."

Elizabeth began to laugh, but checked herself when she saw Darcy's sister was truly panicked. "It is nothing you did, Georgiana. She is only ready for her nap. You did very well holding her." She rose with Charlie and handed him over to Jane, who had already come to take him.

There was a tentative knock at the door before it opened. It was the nursemaid the Darcys had obtained. Miss Hart might well be said to have the most undemanding employment of any given member of the staff at Pemberley. Elizabeth rarely relinquished her maternal right, even at night. That was not to say that the girl did not try to reassert her duties.

"Excuse me," she said with a curtsey to the room, "Mrs Darcy, I thought perhaps you might need me to bring the babe to the nursery."

"I will take her, thank you," Elizabeth declined politely, but declined all the same.

Miss Hart gave another curtsey, and Darcy could have sworn he saw her shake her head and smile on her way out.

Elizabeth turned back to Georgiana and bent to take Elena from her. His wife's face was alight as she held their daughter, as it always was. She quitted the room.

After a time, Bingley and Jane began talking of something with Georgiana, and Darcy stole out of the library and made directly for the nursery.

Easing the door from its frame, he found Elizabeth by the window as she rocked Elena. He paused as he caught her voice softly singing a lullaby. The sound of it was vaguely familiar to him, but it did not resemble anything she or Georgiana had played on the pianoforte before. Darcy listened a minute more from the door before he recognized it: she was singing the same melody he had heard her humming that day in the garden all those months ago, the day they learned that she was with child.

Elena had not been crying for some time. Darcy crept over to them and saw that she was fast asleep, her face half-cuddled into her mother and one of her tiny hands with the fingers curled into their usual fist resting against Elizabeth's breast. He did not wonder that his wife was not disposed to surrender their baby to her cradle just yet.

.*.

By the end of the second week of their stay, the Bingleys returned to Verburry.

Before Jane left, she exacted a promise from Elizabeth that she would care for herself, else she would return and install herself at Pemberley with her husband and son until she could be sure Elizabeth would never again neglect her own well-being so. Jane told her she had already spoken to Darcy of it and he agreed. It was the most immovable that Elizabeth had ever seen her normally even-tempered sister. She swore she would.

Things at Pemberley swiftly settled into a routine not very unlike the one that had existed before. Darcy still had the estate to manage, but he abandoned his work with more regular recurrence not only to see Elizabeth now, but to see Elizabeth and Elena. Georgiana sang and played on the pianoforte as much as ever, but along with her usual medleys of Beethoven and Vivaldi were interspersed old English and French lullabies she would learn especially for her niece. And though never unhappy, the household was noticeably more cheerful than it had been, every one of them infused with a felicity that was synonymous with their newest occupant.

As for Elizabeth, her days were the most radically altered, but she found she did not mind in the least. Tasks like dressing and bathing that once seemed commonplace were transformed into something marvelous when done for Elena, and although there were times when she wondered if she was handling motherhood as she ought to, she did what she thought was right.

To her delight, though not her surprise, Elizabeth perceived how naturally Darcy took to being a father. It was at once comical and moving for her to witness how something so small, scarcely the length of his forearm, could have such power over the formidable Master of Pemberley. The first time she came across Darcy asleep on their bed with a protective hand securing a sleeping Elena nestled atop him, Elizabeth could have cried at the picture they made together, the two people she loved most in this world. Though she had once been told daughters were never of much consequence to their fathers, Elizabeth was of the opinion that even Lady Catherine would rescind her pronouncement could she but see how Darcy tended to his daughter.

One late afternoon found Elizabeth and Darcy in their bedroom. Elena lay between them on the bed, staring up at her parents with bright, curious eyes, almond-shaped and fine; her mother's eyes.

Elizabeth caressed Elena's hair, full and satiny. "She has your hair after all, Fitzwilliam."

Darcy laughed lightly.

"It is true. See how the shade is a little darker? Just like your own."

"So she does." He leaned over to kiss Elizabeth languorously, and then pressed his lips to Elena's cheek very softly. As he drew back, she stretched out a tiny hand and touched his chin, one side of her mouth curving into a crooked smile.

"If anyone in Meryton were to see your face in this instant, none would ever think you fierce or disagreeable again," Elizabeth told him playfully.

Elena hummed and murmured little noises at the sound of her mother's voice.

"Elizabeth, remind me to buy something for Bingley next time we go to town."

She looked over to her husband in confusion. Darcy met her eyes, and she could see he was half in jest, half in earnest.

"I want to thank him for ever taking a house in Hertfordshire."

For a moment, his wife only stared. Then, a smile broke across her face, and Elizabeth's sparkling laugh rang out.

End Author's Notes

I hope the fact that I did scenes going from present to past and back to present again was understandable. If it isn't, let me know. Be honest now, who was fooled by the opening?

For those of you who I can't reach by personal message, like my anonymous reviewers, I say thank you now. For the rest, I will personally say so to each of you, but I want to say a collective thank you to everyone who has read and will read this story. I cannot express to you just how much your personal messages, favorites, subscriptions, and reviews mean to me. I want to especially thank those of you who have been around for the months it took me to complete this story, repeatedly reading and reviewing, in particular Fairies and Pat for our conversations which let me vent a bit when real life got me down and for encouraging me. Remember Fairies: we speak for the trees!

A crazy, amazing thing happened after I finished this last chapter. We have a family friend, who because of a medical mistake cannot conceive children naturally, and has been trying through in vitro for almost two years now. She and her husband have gone through more heartache than should ever be possible during the past two years. There are only so many times you can try this procedure, and a few months ago, she decided to go for her last allowed time. Yesterday, my aunt called to tell me that our friend is finally pregnant and it has carried longer than any of her previous attempts.

Please, if you have read this far, leave a review. A small comment will do, and it does not have to be gushing positive commentary. I welcome anything anyone has to say because I would like to improve how I write.

I really had a wonderful time writing for Darcy and Elizabeth again. This story was my escape when things in the real world just got to be a bit too much. I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.