by Jann Rowland
“From what I understand, you have every reason to be proud of your history. It is very much my wish to become another in a long line of honorable Darcy wives.”
The smile on the gentleman’s face widened, and Elizabeth could see the close resemblance between father and son. “There are some ladies who would speak as you do, hoping to curry favor, to ingratiate herself when she has no intention of following through. In you, however, I sense an earnest desire which would be difficult to feign.”
“I hope, Mr. Darcy, that I am always taken at my word, for I do not speak to mislead or with frivolous intent.”
“Yes, I can see that,” replied her partner.
The rest of the dance passed in silence. The shift, however, in Elizabeth’s perceptions was immense, for the slightly uncomfortable silence of the past was replaced with something more endurable. It might be some time before she was comfortable with her husband’s father, and perhaps even longer before he gained any ease with her. For the first time, however, she was hopeful it was possible.
While the stated purpose for hosting a ball had been to welcome their guests to the neighborhood, the true reason was not lost on anyone in attendance. The two engagements of the eldest Bennet sisters were much talked of, congratulations flowing in from every quarter. Some of them were even sincere! But there was another engagement of which Elizabeth was not aware though it shocked her when she learned of it.
It happened during supper that evening. The previous sets having been secured by Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth spent the meal in his company, along with close family and friends nearby. She took her turn at the pianoforte as was expected, with both Caroline and Mary, and accepted the applause with cheer. After she left the pianoforte, she was immediately approached by a close friend.
“Lizzy, I have something to tell you.”
Nervousness roiled in her friend’s eyes, and Elizabeth took her hands, squeezing them and saying: “Of course, Charlotte. What is the matter?”
“Nothing is the matter, Lizzy,” replied her friend. “It is simply that I have some news which will shock you, though I must inform you that it is partially your fault.”
“Then, by all means, do not leave me in suspense. What is this news of yours?”
Charlotte sucked in a deep breath and then said, in a rush: “I am engaged to be married.”
“Truly?” gasped Elizabeth. “But I had no notion of you courting or even being called on by a gentleman!”
“As I said,” replied Charlotte with a hint of a nervous laugh, “that is your fault, though it is also true we have not published our understanding far and wide.”
“And who is the fortunate man?” asked Elizabeth. “Do I know him?”
“Oh, you know him very well, indeed, for it is Mr. Collins.”
The man himself appeared at their side, as if summoned, and if he smiled at Elizabeth with a hint of the longing she had often seen in his gaze since his arrival at Longbourn, it was much muted now. When he glanced at Charlotte, Elizabeth could see the regard and respect for her, and Charlotte, who had never been a romantic, amazed Elizabeth by responding with a pretty blush. Delight filled Elizabeth’s heart.
“That is wonderful!” cried Elizabeth, embracing her friend with a grip so tight, she heard the breath leave Charlotte’s body. “You have both been sly, indeed, for I had no notion an attachment was forming between you.”
Elizabeth pushed Charlotte out to arm’s length, still gripping her shoulders. “Mr. Collins is an excellent man, Charlotte—I am certain you will be very happy with him.
“And let me commend you, William,” continued she, turning a bright smile on Mr. Collins, “for seeing the worth in my dearest friend. You both deserve so much—I cannot be more delighted you will obtain happiness with each other.”
“Thank you, Cousin,” said Mr. Collins, his voice laced with feeling. “I know I shall be gaining a gem of the highest quality.”
“I thank you as well, Lizzy,” was Charlotte’s quieter response.
“But should you not announce it?” asked Elizabeth. “Now is the perfect opportunity—I am certain Mr. and Mrs. Bingley would be pleased to oblige you.”
“No, Lizzy,” said Charlotte at once, Mr. Collins echoing her words. “Neither William nor I wish to take away from your celebration. We are quite content to court in private, allowing you and Jane to consume the attention of our neighbors.”
A laugh was Elizabeth’s response. “Now you are forcing me to become cross with you. I would gladly cede the attention, for I have no need of it.”
“But you deserve it,” replied Mr. Collins. “You are marrying into an illustrious family and will be ascending to the heights of society. I am naught but a simple parson.”
“You have never been a simple parson,” said Elizabeth, touching Mr. Collins’s arm with affection. “You are an excellent man. Who knows? Perhaps someday your journey through life will take you to other places, greater positions and heroic deeds. The world is open to you, Cousin.”
While Mr. Collins appeared embarrassed by Elizabeth’s praise, Charlotte regarded her with a slightly shaken head. “I still maintain you read too many novels, Lizzy. William and I will be very content to live in Longbourn village and tend to the parish. But we are pleased with your felicitations. I hope you will attend our wedding.”
“Nothing will keep me from it, Charlotte,” replied Elizabeth.
After a few moments, Mr. Collins went away, but not without giving Elizabeth one last look. Elizabeth fancied she understood it—Mr. Collins, though he had never held any serious designs on her, was wishing her a final farewell in his heart, for he had succeeded in letting her go. The smile which Elizabeth bestowed upon him informed him she understood, that his happiness meant much to her.
“I wish to thank you again, Lizzy,” said Charlotte when her fiancé had departed. “Some in your position might have responded differently to such news, particularly since you have known for so long how William feels for you.”
“Charlotte,” chided Elizabeth, “I could never be anything other than pleased. Mr. Collins has never hidden his admiration, but we have both always known our paths did not lie together.” Elizabeth squeezed her friend’s hands. “And you must know that Mr. Collins’s previous infatuation for me has given way to much more powerful feelings for you.”
Charlotte blushed, but she did not deny it. The sight of her friend so bashful when she was usually self-possessed induced Elizabeth to become playful.
“The one surprising thing of this affair is your father’s silence on the matter—not to mention your mother’s I might have thought they would be incandescently happy, proclaiming the match for all to hear!”
The ladies laughed together. “Perhaps you are correct. But you forget how much esteem my parents—especially my father—hold for you, Lizzy.”
Sir William, who was speaking to one of the neighborhood men, found Elizabeth with his eyes at that moment. It was apparent he had a good notion of what they were discussing, for he bowed and grinned, to which Elizabeth responded. The man’s jovial laugh reached her ears, and she shook her head. Her friend was correct as usual.
“Then will he announce it in the near future?” asked Elizabeth. “For surely he cannot remain quiet about it for long, and I suspect your mother will wish to have her share in the recent spate of matrimonial congratulations.”
“I cannot say you are incorrect, Lizzy,” replied Charlotte happily. “It will be announced soon, but there is no rush. We do not plan to marry until January or February at the earliest, so there is plenty of time for celebration.”
The conversation devolved to Charlotte’s expectations for the future and Elizabeth’s questions concerning how it had all come about. Never having considered the possibility, Elizabeth still felt herself to be more than a little amazed, but with the excellent dispositions of her cousin and closest friend, Elizabeth was convinced they would do well together. In the end, they parted, e
ach determined to retain their connection and maintain their friendship, though marriage, children, their duties as wives, and distance would separate them.
Still later, Elizabeth found herself back in the ballroom, a pleasant sense of sanguinity coming over her. It had been a wondrous night, one she would remember throughout the years of her life with nothing less than gratitude. The heat of the ballroom seemed to increase, and she felt like a little fresh air would be just the thing. Consequently, she moved to the door at the side of the ballroom and slipped through onto Netherfield’s balcony beyond.
The crispness of late November invigorated her, the air refreshing after the closeness of a crowded ballroom, and Elizabeth walked to the bannister, looking out onto Netherfield’s gardens beyond. But while the view was beautiful, the light of the moon casting a luminous glow on everything before her eyes, Elizabeth’s attention was focused on the door behind her. As she had known it would, it opened after a few moments, allowing the light to spill out into the night, before it closed again. The sound of footsteps approached.
“I had not thought you would be so ungentlemanly to approach me in this manner, sir. Have you no care for the proprieties of the situation?”
“I have the highest respect for the proprieties,” was his reply. “In the face of such loveliness, however, I find myself helpless before you.”
With a smile, Elizabeth turned to gaze into the eyes of her beloved. “A pretty speech, sir. But I have proof of your rakish ways and little inclination of allowing you to steal another kiss.”
“Oh, I am quite certain you are eager for me to steal another kiss.”
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. “Are you? I might wonder how you might have arrived at such a conclusion.”
With exaggerated slowness, William leaned down and kissed her full on the lips. It was not a quick peck which caused her to start and flee as it had last time, but a warm, sensual brushing of his lips against hers, the kind which left her content, yet wanting more.
“Whatever am I to do with you?” asked Elizabeth as he pulled away from her. “You are incorrigible, sir. How many more maidens have you despoiled in such a manner?”
“Only you, dearest,” said Mr. Darcy, leaning in again. “Only you.”
“Are you convinced yet?”
Robert, who had been watching the dancers engaged in the last set—though trying not to appear as if focused on Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth—turned to her. Lady Anne took his actions as an encouragement to continue to speak. She grinned and grasped his arm, holding herself close to him.
“Of Elizabeth’s suitability to be our daughter.”
The huff with which Robert responded did not mislead her in the slightest. Much of his antipathy and displeasure had dissipated, and it was not all resignation left in its wake. It appeared there was much work yet to be done to bring him to full acceptance, but he was now on that path. That was the important point.
“She does seem to be a determined, genuine sort of girl.” A pause ensued, during which Robert did not take his eyes from her. “Do you know she actually expressed her eagerness to learn about the family’s history and to live up to the example of those who have gone before her?”
“That does not surprise me at all,” replied Lady Anne. “But I am curious of your opinion. Do you suspect her of dissembling?”
“While it might be expected of a woman in her position, oddly enough, I do not. I have already said I consider her to be a sincere girl. Nothing she said impressed me of any other motive than to ensure her assumption of the title of the future Mrs. Darcy would not affect the family’s standing.”
“Again, I am unsurprised. Since we made her acquaintance, it has been easy to see she is not given to the artifice one so often sees in society.”
“There was never a chance to dissuade him, was there?”
“It surprises me you feel the need to ask.” When Robert looked at her, Lady Anne bestowed a gentle smile on him. “Fitzwilliam is quite as stubborn as you, Robert.”
“Yes. I remember speaking those same words not long after our arrival in Hertfordshire.”
“Perhaps more importantly,” said Lady Anne, drawing his eyes to her again, “he possesses a different character from you, for all you are similar in essentials. Fitzwilliam would never have been happy with a society wife, a woman who would bring him prestige and wealth, but be more punishment than partner. He requires something more in a wife—he requires a woman who will love him, on whom he can shower his own love.
“Given what I am seeing before me now, it is clear she makes him very happy.” The look of adoration Fitzwilliam was at that moment bestowing on Miss Elizabeth proved her point. “Does it not remind you of our courting days?”
A softness which was not often present in her husband’s countenance entered his eyes. “Yes. It does very much.”
“Then be happy your son has found what you found. Be happy he will share the same with his wife as we have shared all these years.”
Robert looked on her with love, an ardency he rarely shared, but which warmed her whenever she witnessed it. “When you put it like that, it would be churlish of me to continue to disapprove of her, would it not?”
A grin stretched her lips and Lady Anne said: “I am glad you see it too.”
The rumble of laughter built up in his breast, released in a chuckle. Robert caught up her hand, bestowing a lingering kiss on her wrist.
“I am blessed, indeed, Mrs. Darcy. To have married such a wise woman is a boast not every man can make.”
“And I would have you remember it, Mr. Darcy, for I shall take great pleasure in reminding you of how correct I was in this matter.”
Their shared laughter floated out over the dance floor, mingling with the final strains of the music. All would be well, it seemed. Her family would be whole, Wickham was banished, and her son would have all he ever wished. It was all she ever hoped for.
Epilogue
Coming home to Pemberley was always something special. Though her first visit had impressed Elizabeth as to the beauty of the venerable estate, only living there had allowed her to come to a more complete understanding of what it symbolized, what it had meant to generations of the Darcy family and to those who depended on the estate for their livelihoods.
As she had promised her husband’s father, Elizabeth had devoted herself to learning of the family’s history. Coming to understand the legacy of which he had stewardship allowed Elizabeth to understand her father-in-law in some small way. Mr. Darcy, she thought, was pleased that she approached the matter with gravity. He never tired of relating the stories of his forebears. Elizabeth could understand why.
That was not to say they were at Pemberley always. The principal residence of Elizabeth and her husband had been Blackfish Bay on the coast of Lincolnshire. William had informed her it was the best of the Darcy satellite estates, and Elizabeth could well understand why. It was a picturesque locale, not far from the ocean, prone to breezes from the North Sea, the scent of which Elizabeth found particularly wonderful. She and her husband had spent several idyllic months there, coming to know each other as husband and wife, learning how to be a married couple. So happy was she there, Elizabeth thought she would never wish to leave, if it were possible.
But Pemberley was a world unto itself. The woods, the fields, the long valley in which it stood were scenes that had grown dear to Elizabeth. William was of the opinion that Pemberley was the best place in the world, and Elizabeth had quickly grown to agree. Yes, returning there was, indeed, special.
As the carriage in which they traveled crested the little prominence which provided such an impressive view of the house, Elizabeth leaned forward to look out the window, to accept the placid air of the place that always calmed her. As she did so, her husband of almost a year grinned.
“One might think you are impatient to reach our destination, Elizabeth.”
“No more impatient than you, Husband,” replied sh
e. “Did you not inform me of your own feelings for this place, feelings even our comfortable home at Blackfish cannot satisfy.”
“I did.”
“Then I must suppose you are anticipating the coming reunion at your favorite place in the world as much as I am.”
Though Elizabeth might have expected a response, her husband contented himself with a warm smile and a look out the window. The carriage proceeded apace along the road toward the stone building beyond, and soon Elizabeth could see three shapes emerge from the front door, waiting for them to arrive. While two of the figures stood at ease, waiting patiently, the third was bouncing on her heels, eager for the carriage to arrive.
When their conveyance swayed to a stop, William embarked before turning to assist Elizabeth from the carriage. Then she found herself engulfed in the embraces of her female in-laws, the soft welcome of the elder mingling—though much quieter than—with the squeals of the younger.
“How well you appear, Elizabeth!” exclaimed Lady Anne when the greetings had been made. “Is it not wonderful, Robert? Our first grandchild shall be born at Pemberley and not three months from now!”
“It is, indeed,” said Mr. Darcy, his usual reserve coming to the fore. He executed a very proper bow over Elizabeth’s hand, saying: “It is good to see you, Elizabeth, Fitzwilliam. But I must say you do not appear as . . . developed as I might have thought. I seem to remember Anne being much larger when she was as far along as you.”
Elizabeth stifled a giggle, noting that Lady Anne had done so at the same time. Mr. Darcy was not prone to displays of humor, but when he did, it was always in an understated, droll way.
“It is not unusual for a woman to maintain her figure for some time into her first confinement,” said Lady Anne. “Regardless, I should like to see Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth to their room so they can rest.”
They all agreed, and Elizabeth soon found herself in her chambers with her husband. As it turned out, she was a little tired, agreeing readily to rest for a short time while William descended the stairs to see his father. Thus, it was some time later, when they all gathered together in the sitting-room, that an important communication was made.