Jane Bennet

After some weeks from the visit which had been brought upon them, Jane had endured plenty of thoughts. It was not at the forefront of her mind as she found the concept of the question frightening and wary, but it had remained there. It stood in her mind when she changed Emmy and put her to bed. It lingered as she read stories to Duckie and set him down for his nap, but it resonated most when Jane looked at her eldest.

Lydia was now nearly eight years old and it was in her that Jane often saw the remnants of Stu in her eyes and the shape of her nose. It reminded her that Carwood had grown to love another man's child and had looked past biology to do so. He had done such a noble and loving thing and she wondered why she should not do the same.

Now, weeks later, she felt that she had made an about-turn in her decision, but there was a problem at hand. How was she to tell Carwood that she wished to help two men out and give over her body, if only for the better part of a year?

It was unfathomable.

It was impossible. The news reached Jane with alacrity and she could not recall a time in recent history that could compare to the anguish that ripped through her. The details were scarce, but what she knew was enough to make her panic. Carwood and Lydia had been out for the day and Carwood was injured and there was no news of her daughter. Stricken of all other thoughts, Jane threw on whatever clothes she had presently and ran as quickly as she could for the clinic, not stopping a single moment though her breathing suffered for it.

When she arrived, she covered her mouth as a sob of relief assaulted her to see Carwood breathing. She launched herself from the door to his bedside and wrapped her arms around him, burying her tears in his chest. "Carwood," she wept. "Carwood, where is Lydia?" she demanded, the world blurred behind her tears and her words high and girlish. She was so scared and her daughter was not with her husband, where was her daughter? "Carwood," she pleaded, breath hitching in her throat. "Carwood, where is Lydia?" she demanded, words barely more than a hyperventilated exhalation. "Where is our daughter?"

It was a strange sound that roused Jane from her sewing in the mid-afternoon. The weather outside had taken a turn for the frightful and she was not yet accustomed to having so many floors of a building as their home. It was taking some getting used to, to be sure. The bedrooms seemed to have remained on the same floor, but it required stairs to go to other places in her house -- such as the ballroom and the kitchen.

This sound, however, was coming from the bedroom of the children and it was not Lydia's voice.

Warily, Jane roused herself to her feet. "Carwood?" she summoned. "Carwood, are you busy at the moment?" It was best to investigate in numbers, she believed. If something was amiss or if someone had managed to break in, she wished for the aid.

Lydia had insisted upon two stories before bed this evening. Jane, never one to deny her children anything that they requested, had patiently read through the books, providing the voices with as much steady enthusiasm as she could bear. Once her eldest was asleep, Jane made her way to Duckie's room in order to change him, feed him, and ensure that he was well-content. As ever, he wriggled and babbled as she worked, but she had grown to find his state of unrest a fond thing. It reminded her, almost, of Kitty and Lydia and she thought that at least Richard would never hurt for activity.

An hour later, she was quite ready for bed herself, though the hour was still early. Still, Jane marked the day as a success. She was tired, yes, but had the presence of mind to still be thoughtful and alert. Her body did not ache as it had in the early days, which made her grateful that the worst of Duckie's infancy seemed to be over. With such a thought came others, but they were not plans to be made on her own.

Upon reaching her shared room with Carwood, Jane set to undressing as her mind ruminated on the possibility it had happened upon. Her fingers brushed against the corset once her linens were off and she cast a gaze through the large room. "Carwood?" she called, softly so as not to wake the children. "May I request your help?"

After so long of a wait, Jane found that the actual event rushed onwards. It seemed as though her small child was not willing to come out. It seemed as though Lydia would celebrate her fourth birthday before Richard ever established the date of his own birth. And then, suddenly, it was as though God above had challenged her and deemed that she would wait no longer. Within the first hours, Jane could already tell that this would be faster than Lydia's birth, as she seemed to feel the pains much closer together at an increasing rate.

With it, she felt a deep sadness pervading her mood. For all that she knew she ought to embrace the joy of a new child, she could not help but remember all those dear to her who were with her the last time she gave birth. Dr. Maturin and Stuart and so many more dear friends were no longer with her and it brought tears to her eyes through every moment of the birth.

She had been correct in her estimation, however. From the moment in which her water broke to Richard being placed in her arms, only fourteen hours had elapsed. It was a welcome change from the first event in which it had been days of suffering and oh! It had been worth it, of course, but it had been such a feat of endurance.

Now, with Richard bundled up in a swath and cleaned of all the grime and blood that covered him -- the necessary medical aid performed by Doctor House -- he rested comfortably in Jane's arms as Lydia slept soundly at her side. She had been eager to join her Mama, but Jane had insisted that she be kept outside until things were more civilized. At four, perhaps she would already begin to bring these memories forever forward with her.

"Hello, little Duckie," Jane greeted her young son fondly, brushing her thumb over the tufts of blond hair at the top of his forehead. "We have been waiting ever so long to actually meet you."

It did seem a strange and happy coincidence. Jane herself was pregnant and Lady was at the same time. Though, Jane felt remiss in that she had not noticed her own dog was pregnant until very nearly the end. She had departed from Dr. Magnus' clinic with the news that Lady would be giving birth quite soon and that she would have a litter to contend with.

Jane, crouched in front of her dog, studied her with worry. "I do not wish you to think me a terrible owner," she expressed her concerns to an animal that she knew could not return her words. She felt a duty to apologize, nonetheless. "We shall find a home for your darling pups, I promise you," she insisted, looking to the path behind her and thinking of what might be an option.

Perhaps she might advertise. Or perhaps she would be lucky enough to bless her friends with the gift of a new pet and joy in their lives.

When the month of February arrived, Jane began it worried a terrible deal. Her illness had, as expected, cleared and she was left feeling far more refreshed than she had been in the duration of the cold months. What troubled her, however, was her weight. She had been raised by her Mama's concerns and knew that she must keep her girlish figure.

Recently, it seemed as though she had put on so much more weight than she ought to, taking her daily walks as she did. She sought aid with Dr. House, as she had grown used to consulting others when their professional opinion was needed. It was then that he did her check-up and it was now that she returned home, a look of shock on her face.

Perhaps happiness would soon follow, but at the moment she could not do anything but stand in the front hall as she removed her shoes, so focused on such a small task as Dr. House's news took its time to settle.

In ways, Jane could not possibly believe that she stood here with Carwood and met with the certainty that she was to be his wife in a matter of moments. Throughout the ceremony, it was all she could bear to think about and when it was through, she could not believe it, yet. She continued to steal glances from him and felt her breath in her chest catching at every moment.

"Carwood," she whispered to him when the event was over and their closest friends had witnessed the loveliness, "Carwood, we are married," she spoke the words with great reverence and awe. They had allowed their best persons to stand at their sides. Lydia had been the flower girl, and Jane had permitted both Jack and the Doctor to walk her to Dale, who had officiated with such a lovely air.

With Ianto as her best man, Jane felt as though she had the very best of friends surrounding her and was equally glad that they had decided on a very casual party. There was food, of course, and drinks, but she did not feel as though she ought to worry in regards to whether she was playing hostess appropriately.

She still could not quite believe, really, that she was once more married.

Of all the places that they might have gone on the Island to enjoy some time together, Jane found herself hard-pressed to enjoy any choice like the one they had made. She adored the beach as it was so unfamiliar and lovely at once and was such a fond place in her memories. It was here that they first met and she felt as though it kept a special place in her heart.

She had dressed in freshly-laundered linens and now made her way to meet him, hoping that he would not find her late. She had placed Lydia at the Children's Office in the hope of offering privacy were they to wander longer than they had possibly planned. When she saw him in the distance, she brightened far more than before, waving as she approached. "Carwood," she greeted warmly, leaning on her toes to kiss him. "I do hope I'm not too late."

Jane had taken the food for Carwood and had moved it to New Pemberley, for while she did not think either of them unable to remain in decency about the other, she still felt it best that they did not cause a scene -- even in happiness. She arranged the birthday cake and sucked sweet frosting from off her pinky to assure that it still tasted wonderful, giving a nod of pleasure when it was no less tasty than when she had made it.

It felt as though her whole body hummed in anxiety, utterly unsure as to what was to come next. To be sure, she knew of her love for him, of his love for her, and of his adoration for Lydia, but she had done this once before to great disaster with Mr. Bingley and once in a most unconventional way with Stuart. She had no basis to work upon and that scared her, truly.