Spring arrived at Pemberley not with a gentle sigh, but with a riotous, determined explosion of life. Crocuses punched through the last of the snow, followed by a carpet of bluebells in the woods. The air, once sharp and cold, now carried the moist, fecund scent of earth and new growth. With the thaw came visitors, drawn by the dual attractions of the season and the news of the Darcy heir.
The Bingleys were frequent, doting guests. Jane, her own pregnancy beginning to show, would sit for hours with Elizabeth, their conversation a comfortable blend of sisterly gossip and the shared, mysterious language of motherhood. Bingley and Darcy would walk the grounds, their friendship deepened by their new, common status as husbands and expectant fathers.
Other visitors came and went, paying their
