Author's Note: Hello! Please indulge me by reading this. What follows is not a part of a Suddenly I See, but rather the potential first new chapter of a WIP with a working title of Pain and Perseverance. I am putting this note at the top to let you know both that it has nothing at all to do with SIS except that I wrote both. I am also looking for feedback regarding whether I should move forward with it. More on this in a second note at the bottom.

"Dearest," Fitzwilliam Darcy was looking rather sharply at his bride as he addressed her. They had been enjoying a companionably quiet breakfast at Pemberley, Darcy with a newspaper and Elizabeth with that morning's post.

At her husband's address, Elizabeth looked up from the letter she was holding but her gaze was quite blank even as she stared across the table at him.

Darcy was instantly alarmed. "What is it, Elizabeth?" he demanded urgently. A dozen scenarios ran through his mind but he couldn't bring himself to give voice to any of them. Had the new Mrs. Bingley met with some harm? Had Longbourn burnt to the ground? Perhaps Mr. Bennett had grown ill, or even died, and Mrs. Bennett had resolved to remove to Pemberley as a result.

At his question, Elizabeth blinked and seemed all at once to return to her normal self. "It is nothing," she replied, glancing at the paper in her hands once again.

Darcy's own eyes followed her gaze and lingered for a moment on what he could see of the contents. It was a large, roundly untidy hand but not one that he could recall having seen before. He knew Elizabeth corresponded faithfully with most of her family as well as with Mrs. Collins, but he was certain the letter could not have come from any of them.

A sense of unease spread through his gut, though he could hardly tell why.

He was saved from having to worry or guess further as Elizabeth folded the letter and continued speaking in measured tones. "I'll spare you the necessity of trying to make heads or tails of the manner in which she has chosen to phrase things and simply tell you that Lydia has written to inform me that she is in a family way."

At her words, Darcy felt momentarily overwhelmed as three distinctly different reactions swept through him. The first was a rush of love and gratitude for Elizabeth's careful circumspection in referring to her youngest sister by her Christian name, avoiding the unpleasant reminder that the foolish child was now Mrs. Wickham.

The second reaction was one of concern. Darcy had been first alerted to the existence of the news that Elizabeth had just shared with him when she had gasped very suddenly and sharply only moments before he had first addressed her. Was it only that the news was a surprise or was there something else to Elizabeth's reaction? She certainly seemed strained as she had relayed the news to him; her smile had been forced rather than sincere. It might have only been concern for his own feelings at the realization that he was to become an uncle to Wickham's spawn, but then again, it might be any number of other things. Darcy would not put it past Lydia Wickham to have phrased the matter in an indelicate fashion or to have used the event as a lever by which she meant to make some crass monetary demand of her more advantageously wedded elder sister.

Most visceral and almost shockingly violent of all Darcy's initial reactions to the news, was the disgust he felt at the thought of Wickham having fathered a child. With such a scoundrel for a father and with such an empty-headed wanton for a mother, the child was all but destined to be just as bad if not worse than his parents.

The uncharitable thought was followed with a quick rush of guilt. Not even born, and the child was already being judged and found wanting for any redeeming qualities? Of course such a thing was not in any way fair, but Darcy found that he could not fully repent the thought.

All of these things washed over and through him in the space of a few heartbeats, and Darcy busied himself for a few moments with precisely refolding and settling his newspaper, his mind frantically working for something sensible and appropriate to say in response to Elizabeth.

Something about her posture - or perhaps the manner in which she failed to meet his eye - tore at Darcy's heart. As if it were her fault that the unpalatable news had landed in her lap and she had been the only one able to pass it along to him.

Hastily trying out and discarding any number of ideas for a possible rejoinder, Darcy at last settled on a somewhat abrupt invitation to stroll through the gardens. He could not bring himself to ask after any particulars of when the babe was due to arrive, nor would he make any remarks about the child's prospects for life with two such wildly unsuitable parents to mold him into an upright citizen of good moral standing and character. However true such observations might be, it would only distress Elizabeth to think of it and besides, Darcy knew better than to point out her family's faults.

Once they had withdrawn from their repast, neither of them seeming to have much appetite after the contents of Mrs. Wickham's letter had been divulged, they repaired to the gardens for one of their customary walks. Although Darcy had never been opposed to the exercise before, he found he much preferred it since he had married Elizabeth. Seeing Pemberley through her eyes was something he never tired of and it seemed that Elizabeth was forever discovering something new, no matter how many times they meandered through the grounds and gardens of their estate.

"Are you terribly upset?" Elizabeth asked at length, her voice uncharacteristically subdued.

Darcy grimaced, cursing himself silently for having no better ability to make a creditable pretense of unconcern. Sighing, he tucked Elizabeth's dainty hand closer into the crook of his arm as he made his answer.

"I cannot pretend to not have some very serious qualms about the idea," he told her honestly. "You know how I feel about Mr. Wickham. To think of him influencing the life of an innocent, well..."

He let his voice trail away, pleased with himself both for having spoken Wickham's name without hesitation, as though it cost him nothing, and for having voiced his concern for the child without laying any of the potential blame at Mrs. Wickham's feet.

Elizabeth nodded, but kept her face turned down towards the path. With the brim of her bonnet blocking his view, he could only imagine her face looking thoughtful as she agreed with him. "Yes, I must also admit to some fears for the well-being of the child. I had thought when they married that I must accept the possibility of Lydia becoming a mother, but now I see I was not prepared at all for the reality of it."

She looked up suddenly, anxious. "Is there anything we might do for the child that his parents could not exploit?" Her face reddened as she said the words but she did not retract them.

Again, as he did every day, Darcy felt a surge of tenderness for the amazing woman that was his wife. She was so very good, but in an uncompromisingly realistic way. She was not like her older sister or Mr. Bingley, who wished so much to see the good in people that they often overlooked man's very real propensity for evil, as if pretending that someone had no flaws could somehow change what their actions might be.

"I am certain there is something we might do," Darcy assured his wife. "See to the child's education, perhaps. My own father did the same for the son of his steward. It seems only reasonable to assume that the child's circumstances would not otherwise permit such an opportunity."

Elizabeth laughed, though the sound was without any true humor. "If only a gentleman's education might also assure us of the babe growing up to be a gentleman."

Darcy paused, struck by how uncannily his wife's observation mirrored his own unspoken fears. Since Elizabeth had been the one to voice the uncharitable thought, he found himself in the unexpected position of being able to offer her the small comfort that his mind had conjured as a response to the idea.

Putting his own gloved hand over Elizabeth's smaller one where it rested delicately atop his forearm, Darcy replied with as much conviction as he could muster. "You didn't know him, but the elder Mr. Wickham was a good man and I never heard or saw any ill of his wife while she yet lived. We may fear the influence that George Wickham will have over his own child, but if a man may turn out to be wild and unprincipled despite a good example, there is yet hope for another child to have a better character than his upbringing might otherwise suggest."

"A very clever observation, Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth complimented him prettily, something of her old arch tones back in her voice, letting her know she was about to tease him as was her usual wont. "You might have more easily pointed out that perhaps I did not turn out to be quite so silly or nervous as is my mother; and this, despite her influence on my formative years! But I comprehend that you still would wish to stay in my good graces and so quickly discovered another example by which means you intend to comfort me. How shall I reward you for such superior forethought in dealing with my feminine sensibilities?"

Darcy felt himself grin and stopped walking, his sudden inertia drawing Elizabeth to a gradual halt. "I believe that the lady knows what sort of reward would be most welcome if, indeed, such a prize were really deserved."

Elizabeth looked up at him, attempting a expression of grave inquiry that was wholly spoiled by the smile that lurked in the corners of her mouth and sparkled in her fine, dark eyes. "I would not offer any remuneration that I did not believe to have been already so well deserved lest I be thought a teasing flirt, Sir," she scolded. "Whatever can the gentleman mean by casting such aspersions upon my meaning and intent?"

Inwardly smiling at the neat manner in which Elizabeth had turned the conversation on him, Darcy nevertheless kept his old and familiar mask of grave imperturbability fixed carefully on his face. "Only the very stupidest of men would think to imply anything untoward against a lady such as yourself. I merely meant to say that perhaps, in her generosity of spirit, the lady has ascribed more credit to her humble servant than that which he truly deserves."

Elizabeth's sparkling smile turned sly as she regarded him and so Fitzwilliam was not at all surprised to hear her declare that she could think of several ways in which she might take his speech as an insult either to herself or her family. He was still less surprised when she made no effort to enumerate those ways and instead rose up-a-tiptoe to offer him a kiss.

Having long since abandoned any discomfort he might have felt about so scandalous a display of affection, Fitzwilliam could only breathe an inward prayer of gratitude for the treasure that was his wife and meet her passion with his own.

When they pulled apart some time later, each one slightly breathless but also grinning idiotically at each other, Darcy could not help but murmur, "I love you, Lizzy."

As they always did, the simple but heartfelt words caused his wife's eyes to soften in response and her smile became somehow both warmer and more serious. "And I you, William."

It was tempting to abandon the walk through the gardens and to sequester himself with Elizabeth in their rooms for the remainder of the day, but Darcy forced the impulse down. He had a meeting with his steward that he must attend and Elizabeth had planned on an hour's practice at the pianoforte with Georgiana along with her usual custom of keeping up with her correspondence or meeting with Mrs. Reynolds to discuss the running of the house or planning of the menus.

With an inward sigh of regret, Darcy turned his feet back towards the path and husband and wife resumed their companionable perambulations, each one quietly engaged with his own thoughts.

Second Note: Hello there. It's been a while, hasn't it? I am sorry to use SIS in this way, but I didn't want to start another fic without being quite certain I would finish it (even if it does take me 3 years to do so, as it did with SIS!). My idea for this story would be that it is set in the Regency era, a few months after the events in Pride and Prejudice. No alterations to canon, just an exploration of the Darcys' lives, but with a backdrop of their struggles with infertility.

Not a happy subject, but one with which I am quite familiar for various reasons having to do both with people I know and my own experiences.

This means, of course, that I would have to buckle down and do all sorts of research, both to try to be faithful to the historical period and also to write as accurately as possible regarding the attitudes towards and the medical knowledge of infertility at the time. And I suppose that is the main reason I am putting this out as a feeler and to get feedback. I have several other things I could put my time and energy towards (not least of all, balancing my career while also going back to school for my MS degree), so I genuinely want to know if the subject matter is interesting or if it so gloomy people rather feel as though they would just as soon give a fanfic about it a pass.

As always, thank you for reading and my deepest thanks in advance if you should choose to provide me feedback on this topic.