Where The Heart Belongs

by Tilly Davis

  ‘It can be our secret then,’ Elizabeth said, squeezing Sir William’s hand.

  ‘What can be a secret?’ Charlotte asked, returning with a tray of glasses.

  ‘Oh, only that I’m going to marry you off,’ Sir William said, smiling broadly at his daughter, ‘to a clergyman nonetheless, I hear there are plenty available.’

  The merrymaking went on long into the evening, and as the shadows were drawing around Netherfield, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy made their way outside to the waiting horse and trap.

  ‘Will we see you tomorrow, Elizabeth?’ Mrs. Bennet asked.

  ‘We may wish to rest tomorrow, Mother,’ she replied.

  ‘She is being stolen away from me already,’ Mrs. Bennet said.

  ‘Come, my dear, you have four more daughters here currently, one missing for a day will not hurt,’ Mr. Bennet said.

  ‘And Lydia to depart soon, oh, whatever shall I do?’

  ‘We will never fully desert you, Mother,’ Elizabeth said, ‘we could not even if we tried.’

  ‘Goodnight, Elizabeth, and to you too, Mr. Darcy, we look forward to welcoming you to Longbourn whenever you so wish.’

  ‘Take good care of my daughter, sir, for she is a pearl of great price,’ Mr. Bennet said.

  ‘I shall do, sir, and I thank you most graciously for allowing me to care for her in such a way, I shall not let you down.’

  And with that Mr. and Mrs. Darcy rode off towards Netherfield, Mrs. Bennet, a glass of punch in one hand and a white handkerchief in the other, waving them off.

  ‘I, too, must depart now,’ Mr. Bingley said to Jane, ‘it’s getting late and I must escort Georgiana home to Netherfield, I do hope I shall see you ever so soon, it has been a perfect day.’

  ‘I hope so too,’ Jane said, ‘I had it in mind to walk over and see my sister in the coming days, if you should permit it?’

  ‘Permit? Why, I should encourage it,’ Mr. Bingley said, ‘well, goodnight.’ And with that he and Georgiana set off on foot towards the parkland, Mrs. Bennet lamenting the possible loss of another daughter as Mr. Bennet returned her inside, assuring her that such loss was the gain of others.

  And so, peace fell on the Meryton district, and the memories of that happy day endured in the minds of the local folk for many years to come. As the moon rose over Longbourn and Netherfield, it could be said that the happiest of people were now to be found beneath it, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy now having found the love they so desired.

  Part V

  Of Life and Death

  1

  A Longbourn Affair

  It was eight months after the wedding, and the newly wedded Mr. and Mrs. Darcy had settled well into domestic life at Pemberley. Mr. Darcy’s Derbyshire estate was amongst the finest in England, the great house resplendent against its back of lush gardens and manicured lawns.

  At first Elizabeth had found it somewhat overwhelming, though she had found considerable support in this from Georgiana Darcy, who had become a firm friend to her in the early days of her marriage. Georgina knew that her brother could be somewhat difficult at times and she had assisted Elizabeth in navigating his ways.

  Thus, as the summer had turned to autumn and then to winter, and Elizabeth had received visits both from Charlotte Lucas and from her sisters, life at Pemberley was most conducive. Charlotte Lucas was herself now betrothed to be married to a member of parliament of her father’s acquaintance, she to be married in the summer.

  The Bennet sisters had visited twice, though not Lydia who was far too busy about her London life to make trips into the countryside, and were all in good spirits, the most exciting news of all being that Mr. Bingley had proposed marriage to Jane and that she had accepted. Elizabeth of course had been delighted at this news and had visited her sister at Longbourn to personally congratulate her.

  It was a cold March day, the wind whistling around Pemberley, and the rain driving against the windows. Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam were about their breakfast, Georgiana having slept late that morning.

  Just as they were finishing, the footman brought in the day’s letters, placing them on a silver tray next to Mr. Darcy.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘there is a letter here for you, Elizabeth, is that your mother’s hand I detect?’

  ‘It is, why, she only wrote to me last week, and surely my own response cannot have reached her so soon,’ Elizabeth said, taking the letter and cutting the seal. Opening it she read in silence, before letting out a slight gasp.

  ‘Whatever is the matter?’ Mr. Darcy said, looking anxiously at his wife, in response she read out loud.

  My dear Elizabeth,

  I am sorry to impart such sombre news after my last letter was filled with such joy but circumstances require me to do so.

  Your father has taken to his bed and the doctor believes he has a fever from which there is little hope of recovery. He is in good spirits, though weakening by the day. We have kept a constant vigil at his side but my purpose in writing to you is to implore you that should you be able you must journey to Longbourn immediately, he would so dearly love to see you, and if this be the end then let that end be one happily surrounded by his family.

  I realise the journey will take you several days but I believe he shall remain with us a little longer, your father has always been strong, and he was so happy to see you married.

  Come at once if you can, we would so dearly love to see you.

  With my affection and love.

  Mother, etc.

  ‘I simply must go at once,’ Elizabeth said, jumping up from the table, ‘simply at once.’

  ‘But in your condition, would it be wise for us to undertake such a journey?’ Mr. Darcy said, for Elizabeth was now heavily pregnant with their first child.

  ‘And not see my father on his deathbed?’ Elizabeth said, tears now flowing down her cheeks.

  ‘No, you’re right, absolutely we must go,’ he said, and rang the bell to summon the footman.

  ‘Have the stable hands make ready the horses and our carriage, we leave for Longbourn at once,’ he said.

  Assenting, the footman departed and with all haste Mr. and Mrs. Darcy made ready to depart for Longbourn, Elizabeth fearing that they would be too late.

  Having bid farewell to Georgiana, the two now climbed into the waiting carriage, Mr. Darcy informing the driver that they must make all haste southwards, though of course they would need to overnight upon the way.

  Mr. Bennet had been unwell for some weeks, indeed he had been unwell for some years but now it was catching up with him. He had taken to his sickbed some days previously and in himself he knew that he would not rise from it as one of the living. Mrs. Bennet and his daughters had offered something of a stoical attitude towards the affair, but they too realised that this was not simply an illness from which their father would recover. When the doctor had left he shook his head at Mrs. Bennet, who supressed a wail of sorrow at the prospect of losing her beloved husband, but surrounded by her daughters, the family comforted one another and pledged to keep vigil at his side.

  The news that Elizabeth was pregnant with her first child had given cause for much joy, and Mr. Bennet in particular had seemed delighted at the prospect of becoming a grandfather, writing personally to Elizabeth to congratulate his daughter upon the forthcoming joy.

  Now that she was so close to giving birth, the shock that her father lay upon his deathbed had filled her with horror, and no doubt hastened the forthcoming arrival. As she and Mr. Darcy rode southwards in the carriage, she knew that it was her only wish to see her father one last time and tell him once again how much she loved him.

  Mr. and Mrs. Darcy had overnighted at an inn on the road south, it was a tolerable place in which to rest, though neither slept well that night, both rising early, eager to depart.

  As they drove south the weather improved and as they entered the district of Hertfordshire the sun was shining, albeit weakly, down upon them.

  ‘It has been a mild winter,’ Mr. Darcy
observed.

  ‘They say a mild winter fills the graves in spring,’ Elizabeth said sadly.

  Mr. Darcy remained silent, they had spoken very little on the journey south, Elizabeth lost in thoughts of her father, and the happy memories of her childhood. She could not have wished for a better man and role model in her life, and his gift of words and wisdom would remain with her forever.

  It was late in the afternoon when they arrived into Meryton, the little town appearing as it had always done, the bell for evensong tolling gently across the parish. They would stay at Netherfield, Mr. Darcy having sent word ahead the night before so that they were expected, and they imagined that they would find Mr. Bingley at Longbourn with Jane, which indeed they did.

  It was five o’clock when they drew up outside the house, its familiar façade appearing itself in sorrow, the curtains of the bedrooms all closed.

  ‘Do not say we are too late,’ Elizabeth exclaimed, doing her best to climb quickly from the carriage.

  ‘Let me assist you,’ Mr. Darcy said, ‘come now, be careful in your condition.’

  Elizabeth allowed herself to be helped down from the carriage and rushed towards the door, knocking and entering without waiting.

  ‘Elizabeth,’ Mrs. Bennet exclaimed from the top of the stairs, ‘I had only just received word that you were on your way.’

  ‘We left at once. Where is father, in his bedroom, are we too late?’

  ‘You are not too late, Mary and Jane are reading to him at the moment.’

  Mr. Darcy now appeared in the hallway, the carriage driver having been instructed to wait.

  ‘Mr. Darcy,’ Mrs. Bennet said, effecting an odd curtsey towards her son-in-law, ‘Mr. Bingley is in the parlour, won’t you step in.’

  ‘Thank you, I will, Elizabeth must go to her father at once.’

  He stepped into the parlour where he found the gentleman in question reading, as Elizabeth made her way upstairs and embraced her mother.

  ‘My, you are far on now,’ Mrs. Bennet said, ‘far on indeed, the journey will only have hastened this happy affair along, but we are grateful to you for coming, Elizabeth.’

  ‘When I received your letter, I could do nothing else but come,’ her daughter said, ‘he is in here?’

  ‘Indeed.’

  Elizabeth pushed open the door to her father’s bedroom and found before her the ailing man, propped up in bed, wearing his nightclothes and nightcap. On either side of the bed sat Mary and Jane, the former with an open volume of poetry, reading gently as Mr. Bennet sat half asleep, his eyes closed, though apparently still alert.

  ‘Elizabeth,’ Jane exclaimed as her sister went to the bedside.

  The two embraced as Mary stopped reading and also greeted her sister. At the cessation of the poetry, Mr. Bennet opened his eyes and gave a small smile before weakly opening his mouth.

  ‘Elizabeth? I was not expecting you, you have come all this distance only to see death when you are carrying life.’

  ‘I had to come, father, I had to come and see you,’ she said, sitting gently on the bed and taking hold of the old man’s hand. He smiled at her and did his best to squeeze her hand.

  ‘What happy fate should bring you here, and now all my daughters present to me.’

  ‘Is Lydia here too?’ Elizabeth asked.

  ‘She and Mr. Wickham arrived from London this morning,’ Mary said, ‘they are with Kitty in the drawing room, Mr. Bingley is reading in the parlour.’

  ‘A great gathering,’ Mr. Bennet said, ‘I have no doubt there is a classical reference to which I could allude, but it escapes me at this moment.’

  ‘Are you comfortable, father?’ Elizabeth said.

  ‘I have everything I need, my family around me, Mary to read to me though I know she detests my choice of reading matter,’ at this he laughed, ‘and I have lived a long and happy life which has left the legacy which now surrounds me, so yes, I am comfortable even if I am in a little pain.’

  Elizabeth embraced her father who commented on how far on she was in her pregnancy, her sisters also enquiring as to her health.

  As the shadows drew around Longbourn, candles were lit in Mr. Bennet’s room and the family took it in turns to sit with him as he drifted in and out of sleep.

  ‘I fear he is not long for this world,’ Mrs. Bennet said, as she entered the parlour where Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy were sitting with Mr. Bingley and Jane, ‘he is ailing, and growing weaker by the hour, he would not touch the soup prepared for him.’

  ‘I am just glad we have arrived,’ Elizabeth said, ‘I should have been deeply sorrowful had I not seen him before his hour.’

  ‘It may be tonight,’ her mother said, drawing the curtains across the windows.

  As night fell on Longbourn, Doctor Dukes paid a visit to his patient, arriving as the clock on the mantelpiece struck nine.

  ‘It is very good of you to come at this late hour,’ Mr. Bingley said, greeting the doctor at the door.

  ‘I was passing on my way home and thought it would not do to leave seeing my patient until the morning,’ Doctor Dukes replied.

  Upstairs the family were gathered around Mr. Bennet’s bed and as the doctor made his ministrations, Mrs. Bennet clasped her hands to her face, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  ‘Hush now, Mother,’ Jane said, placing her arms around Mrs. Bennet, ‘father would not wish you to be sorrowful.’

  ‘I have made him as comfortable as possible,’ Doctor Dukes said, ‘as comfortable as he may be, continue to keep him warm and to minister the tonic which I have left, I shall call again tomorrow.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Elizabeth said, as Mr. Bingley escorted the physician downstairs.

  The hours were drawing in but none wished to leave the bedside of their father, Mrs. Bennet seated close to his bedside on a chair, in which she nodded off at moments, shaking herself awake each time.

  They sat in silence as Mr. Bennet slept, the sound of his deep, strained breathing the only thing breaking the silence. It was around midnight when Jane, herself feeling sleepy, looked up, the noise having suddenly changed.

  ‘Father?’ she said.

  ‘Mr. Bennet, wake up?’ Mrs. Bennet said, the family now rousing themselves and crowding round the bed.

  ‘Mr. Bennet? Oh, Mr. Bennet, won’t you wake up, come now, please?’ she said, and shook him gently by the shoulder.

  Elizabeth reached out her hand to touch her father but he was still, his breathing no longer erratic but stopped, his eyes closed.

  Mr. Bennet was dead.

  At this realisation Mrs. Bennet let out a wail of sorrow and sobbed uncontrollably into Jane’s breast, her eldest daughter too now crying as she held her mother.

  Elizabeth could not take her hand from her father’s, but she felt Mr. Darcy’s hand upon her shoulder, the rest of the sisters now comforting one another as Mr. Bingley and Mr. Wickham looked on.

  The scene around the bed was one of tragedy, as the family mourned the loss of their father who had been such a prominent figure in all their lives, his legacy, as he had said, that which was before him.

  It took some time before the open mourning turned to quiet contemplation, Mrs. Bennet insisting that she remain at her vigil for the rest of the night, none of the others wishing to leave either.

  As the sun rose the next morning the family still found themselves gathered by the bed, but most had fallen asleep in the early hours. Only Elizabeth, though exhausted, had remained awake the whole night, the man who in life had meant so much to her now lying in death before her.

  It was hard for the family to tear themselves away, but guided by the wisdom of the gentlemen present, Mr. Darcy in particular, practical steps were now taken, with Mr. Bingley taking it upon himself to walk immediately into Meryton and inform Doctor Dukes of his patient’s death.

  Only Mrs. Bennet could not be removed from the room, she stating that she would more gladly have gone to her grave too than be separated from her husband. As Doctor Dukes made rea
dy for the burial, an announcement was placed in the local papers and soon all of Meryton knew that the kindly gentleman of Longbourn, father to five of the handsomest young ladies in the district, was dead, his funeral arrangements shortly to be announced.

  Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy were to remain at Netherfield until after the funeral had taken place, it being decided that Mr. Bennet would be buried in the graveyard at Meryton, a plot reserved for Mrs. Bennet too. The service would be conducted by Mr. Hicks and take place the following Tuesday.

  And so, it was that Mr. Bennet came to pass away, and in the days that followed a deep sense of mourning came over Longbourn, such that none of them had experienced before.

  2

  An Unwelcome Visitor & New Beginnings

  The day of Mr. Bennet’s funeral dawned damp and cold, the mist sitting over Longbourn and Netherfield, enshrouding the district in its dank mirk. The Bennets had risen early, the funeral to take place at eleven o’clock, the gravedigger’s cart arriving to collect the coffin from Longbourn at ten o’clock.

  Mrs. Bennet had sat almost constantly with her husband since his death, and now that the coffin had been placed downstairs in the parlour, the curtains closed, and a black drape set across it, she sat in silence amidst the candles which now burned, illuminating the mournful scene.

  As ten o’clock approached, Elizabeth and Jane entered the parlour and sat on either side of their mother who was dressed in a black dress, her head bowed low.

  ‘It is nearly time for us to depart for the church, Mother,’ Jane said gently, taking hold of her mother’s hand.

  ‘If only I could sit with him just a little longer,’ Mrs. Bennet replied.

  ‘We shall be able to visit the graveyard every day,’ Jane said, ‘and we have father’s portrait in his study to look down upon us, perhaps it might be moved here so that you can sit with him always.’