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“I can remain acquainted with him while he sleeps.”

Jane laughed softly. The child stirred, and both parents bent toward him at once.

Darcy waited beside the chair. He remembered bending over Georgiana in just that way when she was small, persuaded that each movement required his attention. He had been thirteen and very certain that he could protect a sister who could not yet hold up her head. The confidence seemed painful now, but the memory itself was not wholly so.

“Will you sit?” Jane asked.

He took the chair she indicated. Charles stood beside her until she told him that she could not see either gentleman properly with one leaning over her shoulder.

He moved to the other side of the bed.

“We have settled upon his name,” she said.

Darcy looked from her to her husband. Charles appeared pleased and faintly embarrassed.

“Charles,” Jane told him.

“A sound choice.”

“I said she need not suppose herself obliged,” Bingley began.

“And I said I wished it,” Jane answered. “He may be Charles Bingley without my having been persuaded against my judgment.”

“I did not mean that.”

“I know. But you were offering me every other name you could recollect.”

Darcy looked at his friend. “Did you suppose that perseverance would improve your chances?”

“I supposed she ought to consider them.”

“I had considered them,” Jane said. She looked down at her son. “I like Charles.”

The simplicity of it silenced her husband more effectively than any argument could have done. He put his hand upon hers, careful not to disturb the sleeping child.

“Then Charles he shall be.”

“Charles Bingley, junior,” Darcy said. “It may be useful to distinguish which of you has been sent for.”

“I shall come in either case.”

Jane smiled. “I expect you will.”

Mrs. Talbot entered before the visit had grown long. She asked Jane how she felt, listened, and suggested that their company might allow her another rest.

Darcy rose at once. Charles lingered until Jane told him that she would call him when the baby next opened his eyes.

Chapter Fifty-Six

ON TUESDAY MORNING Sir lay outside Elizabeth’s door with one of her gloves between his paws. Sally appeared with its fellow.

“Then he has spared us the trouble of choosing an occupation,” Elizabeth said, rescuing the glove.

She had slept properly at last. A walk no longer required her to calculate how soon she must return to some unfinished preparation.

Before going out, however, she wished to see Jane.

Her sister sat against her pillows while Charles held their son. The baby had been fed and was now being admired for the way he kept his eyes open.