A cool breeze floated in through the open window of Elizabeth Darcy. It crept under the down covers that lay atop her warm bed and gave her the slightest chill. She stirred slightly, and her eyes fluttered open. Dawn…another beautiful sunrise. Turning away from the window, Elizabeth noticed the company of one she had fallen asleep without. Her husband, Fitzwilliam Darcy. She had grown accustomed to calling him Will, feeling the name Fitzwilliam held stuffy, overly aristocratic qualities, and believing that Will or William would certainly befit him well enough.

Unfortunately, due to her husband's busy schedule, Lizzie had also grown accustomed to going to bed alone many nights out of the week. But she was always comforted by her husband's presence in the morning, whether he be in bed beside her, or up and about, fixing her breakfast in bed or reading the newspaper. This particular morning, however, dear Mr. Darcy was too tired to even stir when his loving wife kissed him tenderly on the mouth in an attempt to rouse him. Seeing an opportunity to spoil her husband rotten, Lizzie leapt from the bed, and hurried downstairs, throwing her husband's dressing robe about her as she went. She scurried the long trot to the kitchen where she kindly shooed the cooks away. She was going to surprise Will for once with the luxury he so often bestowed upon her, sometimes waking up an hour before the sun even skimmed the sky, knowing his wife's penchant for watching the sunrise. She would cook him his favorite meal; soft boiled eggs with a piping hot cup of tea and a croissant with freshly churned butter. She would prepare it all herself, and bring it up to him, awakening him with the sweet aromas and an even sweeter kiss. Then, after serving him his meal, she would bring him his newspaper and watch him read. She so enjoyed watching him mull over current events, and found him especially handsome whenever he was pensive.

After gathering together all of her ingredients, she went to work, watching the progress of the eggs carefully and waiting patiently to remove the croissant from the pastry box. She put the tea kettle on, keeping an open ear for the whistle so she could stop it before it grew too loud. Suddenly, movement in the entrance to the room caught her eye, and she glanced up to see her husband peering around the corner.

"What are you doing out of bed?" She asked. After a brief pause, Will spoke.

"Good morning, darling, good morning, love. How did you sleep? Quite well, surprisingly, and yourself?"

"Stop your joking this instant and go back to bed!"

"Hmm…I get the sneaking suspicion you want me to go back to bed." Lizzie darted for the door, and laughing, Will turned on his heel and childishly ran for the stairs. Lizzie smiled as she returned to her meal preparation. She loved the fun they had together, the banter, the witty repartee. It was a carefree and loving marriage, and propriety held no real position in the privacy of the Darcy home.

When she finally finished her toil in the kitchen, she placed the food upon a tray, and delicately carried it up the stairs towards the bedroom.

Will, who had been staring dreamingly out the window, upon hearing her approach, leapt like a little boy right under the covers. Lizzie peaked her head in the door and said, "I saw that, sneaky devil."

"I can put nothing past you, my pearl."

"My pearl? Is it Sunday?"

"It is."

"Then you must hurry with your breakfast which I have so diligently made for you, and then we must prepare for church."

"And I say we skip church and stay abed all day. I've no duties in the office today, so I am at my leisure."

"What is astounding me is that you had duties on a Saturday. I was disappointed to be falling asleep without you again."

"And I am sorry, my love."

"No, do not be sorry, I know you work hard."

"I don't have to. I could hire a few more clerks to see things over so I may be home more often."

"You will do no such thing, Mr. Darcy."

"Mr. Darcy? Does this mean you are cross with me?" He asked with a slight smirk, though Lizzie could tell he was concerned she might be slightly unnerved.

"No," Lizzie said with a chuckle. "Not cross, simply firm in my resolve. One of the things I admire most about you, darling, is your insistence to work when you needn't work another day in your life. You don't fall back on your bottom and let others handle all of the hard work, rather you work diligently for what you have."

"I am only afraid that I might be neglecting you."

"Will, you shower me daily with all of the love a woman could hope to receive in a lifetime. If that is neglect, may all women know it as well as I." Will smiled and put a hand to Lizzie's face.

"How I love you, dear girl."

"And I love you." They kissed. "Now, eat this breakfast I prepared for you so unexpectedly this morning."

"Ah, yes, what a surprise to be receiving breakfast in bed, I never would have suspected." They shared a laughing glance and Will began on one of his eggs. "Are you to join me, Mrs. Darcy?" Lizzie smiled at her favorite endearment, but shook her head.

"No, I'm not hungry this morning." Looking concerned, Will placed his spoon upon the tray.

"You have not had much of an appetite at all these last several mornings. Are you ill, Lizzie?"

"No, I'm not ill."

"Well it is not like you. You normally have the appetite of a lumberjack." Lizzie laughed.

"Yes, well I should think you'd be happy that your wife is being a bit more dainty."

"Absolutely not, I take pleasure in watching you consume large meals, and I am constantly dumbfounded on where you put it all." He had become such a joker, though Lizzie suspected that was how he always was, but was too wary of society's judgments to let it show. "Seriously, Lizzie, is there a need for the family doctor to come and see you?" Lizzie took a deep breath.

"He's already been." Will looked extremely perplexed, but Lizzie wanted to keep him hanging a little while longer. "He gave me some news, darling, and I wanted to tell you last night over dinner, but you were overdue, so I postponed it until this morning."

"What is it, Lizzie?" Will took her face in both of his hands, his eyes still showing great amounts of concern.

"Dr. Billings believes…that I may be with child." Will was silent for a long moment, staring into his wife's eyes, his eyes widened with shock. Placing a hand to Lizzie's stomach, he asked softly, "Really? Are you sure?"

"As sure as we possibly can be."

The concern slowly faded from Will's eyes and in a flash of a moment he leapt up off of the bed, cradling Lizzie in his arms, and spun her about, exclaiming, "WOOHOO! HUZZAH!" All kinds of overjoyed exclamations that caused Lizzie to laugh out loud. Mrs. Harris and Mrs. Mayweather, the housekeepers came running up the stairs, their eyes wide with terror.

"Is everything alright Mr. Darcy?" Mrs. Harris, a portly middle aged woman asked as she wiped her hands on her apron.

"You are screaming loud enough to wake the dead," added Mrs. Mayweather, who was slimmer than her companion, but older as well, and covered with feathers having left her duty of plucking a chicken for that evening's supper.

"Congratulate us, ladies!" Will said. "Mrs. Darcy is expecting!" Mrs. Harris gasped and clapped her hands together in surprise, but Mrs. Mayweather looked confused as ever.

"Expecting what?" She was also a bit senile.

"A baby, you silly woman." Mrs. Harris answered, and Mrs. Mayweather, having been a housekeeper at Pemberly since Darcy was biting ankles, screamed with joy.

"Oh, sir! Oh, sir, that is certainly wonderful news! Oh, I must go fix you something at once…a tart, or a pie…something sweet for Mrs. Darcy!" She turned and ran from the room, feathers flying, and stocky Mrs. Harris in hot pursuit. Before she reached the stairs, however, she turned back and said, "Mr. Darcy, put your wife down this instant! She must be handled gently in her delicate condition." She then turned and bounded down the stairs, and Will, understanding her command, set Lizzie down gently on the bed. He kissed her warmly, then looked deeply into her eyes.

"Oh, my Lizzie…I love you so much. Oh I wonder what it will be."

"Well, hopefully it will be a baby, darling."

"I mean whether it will be a boy or a girl. Is there a way of knowing?"

"There's an old wives tale that you can tell by the way I carry…but we won't notice that for a while yet. What would you like it to be? Either way, the child is destined for greatness…great pride, great stubborness, and unbelievable intelligence…from his mother." Will laughed.

"You, Mrs. Darcy, are a wicked jester in a court of fools."

"Does that make you the fool, my love?"

"Well, I certainly am a fool for you. And you are right. It does not matter the sex…he or she will be just as perfect as their mother." And with that, he kissed her again.