by Jann Rowland
“How are all your family, Mr. Darcy?” asked Elizabeth as soon as she had the chance.
“All well,” replied he. “Fitzwilliam is, as I am sure you suspect, the same as ever. He has been assigned to a general’s staff in London, which has made his mother happy, as it removes him from the likelihood of being assigned to the front. Though he has not caught the eye of any young lady yet, it seems to me he is cutting a swath through the young heiresses. Perhaps my aunt’s wish will be granted this year.”
“And Anne? How is she coping without her mother?”
“With a great deal of relief,” replied Darcy. “She misses Lady Catherine, but I have spent several weeks there with her, reviewing the operation of Rosings. We have corrected some issues which bedeviled her mother’s management of the estate and put an excellent steward in place. The new parson is a man of God, and she has the support of her family. I believe she will do very well.”
“I am happy to hear it,” replied Elizabeth quietly.
“Your family is all well, I presume?”
“Yes,” replied Elizabeth, shooting him a smile. “We are all very well, indeed.”
She explained to him some of the changes the Bennets had undergone during the past months, not excepting the news concerning the entail and how her mother had received it. Mr. Darcy was congratulatory as was proper, though they both felt keenly the sorrow which had occasioned those changes.
“Has it been very difficult for your family in Meryton?” asked Mr. Darcy.
“Not very,” replied Elizabeth. “There were comments made at first, but most seem to understand we were not at fault. Mr. Forbes was the only long-time resident of the neighborhood to perish. As he was not a member of a genteel family, I believe that has lessened the impact.”
“That, I believe, is a sad indictment on our society,” said Mr. Darcy. “That a man’s worth should be measured by his birth.”
“I cannot say you are wrong, sir,” replied Elizabeth. “Have any rumors followed you to town?”
“No. Or at least very few. Lady Catherine had been entrenched at Rosings for so long that only a certain subset of society even remembered her as a person. The announcement of her death did cause a bit of a furor, but the trial of Mr. Collins went largely unnoticed.”
Elizabeth murmured her appreciation for that fact. For some time after they walked in silence, both lost in their thoughts. Primary among Elizabeth’s thoughts and feelings was confusion. Mr. Darcy had promised to return to her, but his behavior thus far was not the close personal interest in her that he had displayed before he left. Had he decided against pursuing her? Though she found she hoped it was not the case, she would not blame him if he had.
At length, Mr. Darcy halted and turned to her, and Elizabeth could see an earnestness about him which she had often seen before. “Miss Elizabeth, I wished to stay away until my mourning was completed, for I worried what the gossips should say should I return early. Given the history at Netherfield, I do not believe this is an unwarranted concern.
“But I have never had so much difficulty keeping myself in check as I have these past two weeks especially.”
Elizabeth gasped at the raw emotion in his voice, the longing he had suppressed. “You forced yourself to stay away?”
“I did, though I had no desire to do so. Every moment I was away, even when I was busy at Rosings, at Pemberley, or with any other matters which required my attention, you were never far from my thoughts. Dare I hope that I have been in your thoughts too?”
There was an eager sort of nervousness about him that Elizabeth finally understood. While she might have worried about his ultimate decision concerning her, he was terrified she would send him away. Her heart melted, and the smile she directed at him softened his brow and brought a measure of peace.
“I thought of you constantly, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth. “I will not vie for the greater share of longing, but I hoped you would return to me as you promised.”
An expression of heartfelt delight came over his countenance, and he reached down to grasp one of her hands. “Nothing could have kept me away. Once the demands of propriety were met, I hastened here to be by your side.”
“I am very glad you did,” whispered Elizabeth.
They turned and began walking again, Elizabeth steps carrying her closer to his side than she might have had their mutual declaration not occurred. It was sublime, this feeling of belonging. Elizabeth hoped they would never be parted again.
“I have inquired into the possibility of leasing an estate nearby,” said Mr. Darcy. “Bingley does still hold the lease of Netherfield and would allow me to stay if I asked. But I have no desire to be there.”
“I can understand that sentiment, sir. I never wish to lay eyes on it again.”
Mr. Darcy nodded. “With your permission, therefore, I shall sign the papers and take the lease of Pulvis Lodge, so that I may be close enough to attend to our courting.”
Elizabeth turned a playful laugh on him. “As yet, you have not asked me for a courtship, sir. You have stated your intentions, but nothing beyond.”
“At present, I only wish to call on you, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy, returning her grin. “Everything between us must be done with the utmost in propriety.”
“Then you may proceed, sir.”
And proceed Mr. Darcy did. He proved to be an ardent suitor when the specter of danger did not hang over them. Elizabeth was well-pleased with his attentions and wished for them to proceed at a swift pace. She was to be disappointed in this, however, as while he did proceed, he did so in a manner which was far more deliberate than hasty. Elizabeth was certain this was a facet of his character, in addition to showing the neighborhood their courting was to be above reproach.
Their courting did excite the interest of the neighborhood, but most of her friends were supportive and happy for Elizabeth. She had always had the picture of him as a private man who did not appreciate his doings being fodder for the gossips. But she could see that he suppressed his usual feelings for her sake.
It was during this courtship that another large change for the Bennet family was made known, and it turned out to be a shock for the entire family. Elizabeth had watched her parents’ closer relationship with approval. But while there had been no outward changes in her mother, she had noticed a glow settling about her which confused her. In time, the reason was made known to them all.
“Your mother and I have an announcement,” said Mr. Bennet one evening when Mr. Darcy had been dining with them. That in itself was no strange matter, as Mr. Darcy dined with them on an almost daily basis.
The company watched Mr. Bennet with interest, none of them having any indication of what he wished to say. It was strange, Elizabeth thought, but her mother’s color was rather high. In fact, she realized, with a start, that her mother was blushing rather furiously. Elizabeth could not account for this behavior. A look at Mr. Darcy showed that he was watching her parents with what could only be termed a smirk.
“You see,” said Mr. Bennet, before Elizabeth could question Mr. Darcy, “we have recently made a remarkable discovery. There is no way to say this to lessen the shock, so I shall come out and say it. Your mother is with child.”
Silence reigned over the room, and for a moment Elizabeth thought her father was delivering a joke. But he watched them all, a hint of a grin playing about his mouth, betraying his enjoyment of their stupefaction. Mrs. Bennet, for her part, blushed even more furiously, if possible.
“But how is that possible?” demanded Lydia, the first among them to speak.
“I am sorry, Lydia,” replied Mr. Bennet. “I shan’t explain the mechanics of it to you. Suffice to say that in about another four months, you shall no longer be the youngest of the family.”
“But Mama is so old!” cried Lydia with more emotion than sense.
This pierced Mrs. Bennet’s embarrassment, and she glared at her—current—youngest with asperity.
“I am not so very old, Lydia. I am one and forty, I will thank you to remember.”
“Do you remember Mrs. Chambers?” asked Mr. Bennet. When they all nodded, he continued, saying: “Her final child was born when she was five and forty, as I recall. It is not impossible.”
Lydia opened her mouth to speak, but the fierce look her mother directed at her silenced her, and she sat sullenly. Congratulations, though hesitant, were offered, and the family fell into an awkwardness rarely felt among the Bennets.
It was some time later when she noticed Mr. Darcy struggling valiantly to hide a grin, and as the conversation was now flowing a little more easily, Elizabeth turned to him to speak quietly. “Of what are you thinking, Mr. Darcy?”
“Just your father’s announcement,” replied he. If anything, his grin grew wider. “It is a surprise, is it not?”
“I can think of nothing more surprising, replied Elizabeth. “I cannot account for how this has come about. My parents have been indifferent to each other for years. As far as I know, they have not even shared a bed for more than a decade.”
“They have not?” asked Mr. Darcy, one eyebrow raised. “They have if you recall, and the timing is perfect.”
Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide. “When we were at Netherfield.”
“Exactly. Mr. Bennet, concerned for your safety, moved his wife into his room and you and your sisters into hers. Then, sleeping in the same bed for the first time in years, well, nature took over, and this is the result.”
It was impossible for Elizabeth to reply, so she contented herself with nodding her response. The rest of the evening was passed on her part watching her parents, wondering at the changes which had come over them.
In due time, Mr. Darcy asked for a courtship, and then he proposed, both of which Elizabeth accepted with alacrity. In deference to her mother and her condition, they waited until after Mrs. Bennet was delivered to marry. And she was delivered of a healthy son, the long-awaited heir of Longbourn. The joy of both mother and father could hardly be described. When Elizabeth met her gentleman over the altar only a month later, the family truly felt they had been blessed, even after trials had threatened to destroy them.
Elizabeth and Darcy left for their wedding journey, and Jane, as her dearest sister, accompanied them. It was about six weeks later that a frantic letter from Mrs. Bennet arrived, imploring them to return to Longbourn, for Mr. Bingley had visited, apparently intent upon resuming his wooing to Jane. It was another occasion in which her husband regarded her with smugness.
“And why do you celebrate your own cleverness, Husband?”
“I have not been clever in the slightest. But I knew Bingley intended to return for your sister, as he informed me of it himself. I left instructions for him to be made welcome at Pulvis Lodge when he arrived, where I assume he is staying even as we speak.”
Mr. Bingley was changed from the man he had been the previous year. He continued to be garrulous and friendly, but there was a hint of darkness in his eyes, and his demeanor was just a little quieter. It seemed he had suffered because of his sister’s death and altered because of it.
But he was still an impetuous man, as his proposal to Jane attested, occurring only four weeks after his arrival in Meryton. Another celebration was, therefore, within Mrs. Bennet’s purview, and she set to it with gusto. And when Mr. and Mrs. Bingley were joined in matrimony, they were quick to remove to the north, their new estate close to Pemberley where their close relations made their home.
In time, the events of that week at Netherfield Park were largely forgotten. Most of the rest of the Bennet sisters left for their own families, and though the next generation of Bennets was now assured at Longbourn, their border with Netherfield ever remained empty, for the estate slowly fell into decay. The owner of the place was content to collect what income it generated, but he was never able to lease it again. Netherfield obtained the reputation of a cursed house, and it lay abandoned for many years, as those who owned it let it fall further by the year.
The end came during a late November storm, on almost exactly the day when the ball at Netherfield had taken place. During the maelstrom, the house was hit by a bolt of lightning and burned to the ground.
The End
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About the Author
Jann Rowland is a Canadian, born and bred. Other than a two-year span in which he lived in Japan, he has been a resident of the Great White North his entire life, though he professes to still hate the winters.