by Jayne Bamber
Mr. Knightley kissed the top of her head and held her as she wept. “I am not one to make speeches – I have never spoken this way before – if I loved you less, perhaps I might have less to say about it, but now that my heart has been laid bare, I must tell you everything. Every day I have spent with you here in Surrey, I have only grown more certain of it. I have been surer of you than I have ever been of anything. It is just right – we are just right. When I saw you at Donwell, I knew you belonged there.”
“The Mrs. Knightley that was promised,” Rebecca laughed. “Oh, yes.”
“We fit together so well,” said he.
“We are going to fight a lot,” Rebecca sighed.
“Yes – I am looking forward to it. It is better than the alternative,” he replied. “I cannot imagine living without you, but I began to fear that I must.”
“You thought me attached to Mr. Parker! How could you believe it? Was Mrs. Weston really so convincing?”
“To be in love is to be uncertain,” Mr. Knightley said, entwining his fingers with hers as he held her.
Rebecca laughed again. “I thought you were in love with Miss Fairfax.”
“Preposterous! Mrs. Weston again?”
“Poor woman. She will be very angry to be wrong twice in one day.”
“That is why I went to London, you know,” Mr. Knightley said. “I could not bear seeing you with him any longer. When I saw you walking across the lawn, arm-in-arm at Donwell, I thought you lost to me. And then at Box Hill….”
“How eagerly you defended Miss Fairfax,” Rebecca teased him. “I saw you across the ballroom last night, looking so very cross, and I thought it was all for her absence.”
“It was because the first thing I saw when I walked in was you, sitting so close to Sidney Parker! He took your hands, said something to make you laugh, and then placed his hand on his heart. I thought my stomach was going to fall out of my body. I really thought I had just witnessed him proposing to you.”
“The only thing that could touch Mr. Parker’s heart, I daresay, is Sanditon, and perhaps my cousin. We were speaking of both, at that moment.”
“Ah – that accounts for it.” Mr. Knightley laughed gently, and Rebecca was still leaning against him – she could feel the deep rumblings of his chest, and it stirred something inside her; she grasped his lapels and pulled at him, signaling that she wanted another kiss. He leaned down, and had begun to brush his lips against hers when he pulled back. “Do you know, I do not think I have actually proposed to you yet.”
“We have established, sir,” Rebecca said with a roll of her eyes, “that we are neither of us very romantic.”
Mr. Knightley only gave her a cheeky look before he dropped down to one knee, and took her hand. “I should have a ring for you, before we go in to Kent, but I cannot wait another moment to ask you – to beg you to be my wife, the mother of my children, the partner that stands at my side forever.”
“Children,” Rebecca cried.
“Yes, Rebecca. We are going to make a lot of children. Just because John is to marry Miss Fairfax does not mean he should have the triumph of a bigger brood of Knightleys.”
Rebecca blushed at the thought of making children with Mr. Knightley. “Very well, I accept.”
Mr. Knightley stood and kissed her again. “I love you, Rebecca. Whatever you want – or do not want – I am yours.”
“My dear Mr. Knightley,” Rebecca breathed, before tears overtook her again. “I promise I am not always like this.”
“Certainly not! I believe you prefer to be – what did Emma tell me… a black-hearted malefactress?”
“Ha! Exactly.”
“Well, I sincerely hope there are no more of those in your family, if I am to come with you to Kent.”
Rebecca grinned. “Come and walk with me in the garden, now. I really do wish to acquaint you with a great many new developments.”
Mr. Knightley offered her his arm, and the two began to slowly amble along the path. “Did you really know, when I came to London, that you loved me?”
“Not at the time, no. I refused to think too deeply on it.”
“When did you realize?”
“I do not know. I suppose it became clear to me just last night, when I thought you had come back from London because of Miss Fairfax, but really I think the first time I felt it was when you came into the parlor at Hartfield with that plate of cherry pie, and only one fork. It was a strange sort of intimacy, and almost a challenge, really.”
He chuckled. “A test of sorts. After you fell from the tree, and I caught you, when we were lying there on the ground....”
“And I wanted to kiss you....”
“Did you really? I thought so – I hoped so. I wished to be sure, and so I brought only one fork; if you had asked for another, I would have known myself quite hopeless.”
“But how could I be swayed by Sidney Parker when I had shared a fork with you?” Rebecca gave him a teasing look. “And no more talk of him being handsomer than you, by the by. It is nonsense and I will not hear it!”
Rebecca and Mr. Knightley walked a while longer. She read him all of her letters, apprised him of a great deal of other news she had received from her family in the past two months, and gave him every assurance of his instantly being accepted as one of them. They began to speak of their plans for leaving Surrey and staying at Rosings for some weeks. They were occupied together so long, and were so at ease with one another, they scarcely noticed the passage of time at all, and were interrupted only by the return of John and Miss Fairfax from the village.
Congratulations and explanations were given on both sides, everything proper was said about the remarkable happenstance that Rebecca and Miss Fairfax were soon to become sisters, and a little while later a note arrived from Randalls – Emma and Frank had no wish to leave the Westons’ cheerful company, and as Mr. Parker had already departed for London, they were all invited to dine at Randalls and celebrate three engagements in one day. It was Highbury’s finest accomplishment, Miss Bates declared, and after a few glasses of wine the good lady began to suggest that they ought to have another ball soon, for next it would be her turn.
31
Rosings Park, Kent, late May
Cynthia Sutton’s wedding was everything it deserved to be – a hurried thing, little attended, and more a celebration of the prospect of her imminent absence than any felicity in the union. The bride was as beautiful as she ought to be – dressed as finely as she could be on such short notice, with more of a determination to seem happy, than any true promise of ever being so. The groom, though dashing in his appearance, made no effort whatsoever to appear pleased at the turn of events, nor any attempt to conceal being coerced by his rather frightening father; had he seemed to take even the slightest pleasure in his marriage, his bride might likely have been grateful enough for the encouragement to make a bit more effort herself. In short, it was a scandalously patched-up affair.
Harriet passed the wedding breakfast chiefly occupied in exchanging looks of high humor with Miss Tilney, as she was now openly acknowledged, as well as Mary and Lydia. The newlyweds departed their wedding breakfast in dubious spirits, after remaining for the minimal space of time required to put on a good show, and Cecily and Middleton began to talk of going away the next day.
There had been something of an exodus of friends and relations from Kent in the last week – Mr. Willoughby had fled, of course; the Crawfords departed the very next day; Henry Audley had decamped after Lydia’s marvelous rejection; and now Mr. Rushworth had gone away, much to Harriet’s disappointment. Only Captain Wentworth remained; he had removed to the village, but was often seen at Rosings, in company with Caroline Sutton, obliging Sir Gerald to look the other way as his son’s widow received her suitor.
Though Harriet was told there was to be a second wave of family arrivals in a few days’ time, she savored the space between them, really wanting to spend every minute she could with her beloved parents, something she
had not done enough of during the house party, and felt she would never tire of.
“At least we still have Harriet,” her father observed to her mother one afternoon, as the three sat picnicking in the garden. “Sam is settled nearby, which is a very happy thing, and starting a family of his own – something even better. But we still have our dear Harriet with us, and I daresay we shall for quite some time.”
“Thank the Lord for that,” Lady Catherine cried, smiling tenderly at her daughter. “I hope you have not caught this strange marriage-mania that has seemed to overtake the county!”
Sir Gerald chuckled. “She has played her part, you know, Cat. Miss Tilney told us, Harriet – she thought you ought to have your share of credit, at least with us, even though the General was to be convinced otherwise.”
“It was very well done,” Lady Catherine replied with a smirk. “I never did care for Cynthia,” she observed.
Sir Gerald bristled. “I daresay there was some dreadful lack of supervision on Selina’s part, at Bellingham.”
“No, do not blame Selina. She and Cecily are very good girls, I am sure of it. But Harriet – Harriet is our little treasure, is she not?”
Harriet blushed, but did not look away, as she had been used to do. She had learned to take a compliment. “I do not know that I did much of anything,” she said. “What I did do, I feel rather guilty about – you do not think it was wrong of me, to have betrayed my half-sister?”
“No, my dearest,” her father replied. “I shall tell you why. Cynthia long had her eye on young Mr. Audley. His older brother wed Selina five years ago, and in all that time, young Mr. Audley never showed any interest in Cynthia. She ought to have taken the hint – her older sister tried to help her, but Cynthia ever was my stubborn child. However, she would not have been happy with him for long; one cannot be happy wed without love. I believe he would have come to resent her, particularly being obliged to raise another man’s child. She, in turn, would have come to know disappointment of the acutest kind. I am glad she has been spared that, for all her mistakes. With this Captain Tilney, I believe she stands a real chance. They must have taken a quick liking to one another, when they met in Northumbria, and as they share a child between them, love will grow. I hope it is a son – if she gives him a son, one look at the babe and he will be hers forever.”
Here Sir Gerald turned and gazed lovingly at his wife, resting his thick-fingered hands atop hers. Lady Catherine smiled widely at her husband, so in love with him as to render her uncommonly beautiful in Harriet’s eyes. Lady Catherine replied, “Yes, I am sure a man likes it very much when he learns he is to have a son.” She placed her hand on her stomach, and gave him a significant look.
Harriet burst out laughing. “What? No, it cannot be! You are too old!”
Her mother fixed her with a bemused look – she really seemed too cheerful even to be angry. “Harriet Augusta Sutton, I am not fully forty-two. It is not common, I suppose, but it is not unheard of. Shall you be disappointed to no longer be the baby of the family?”
“No indeed – I like it very much. I am nearly a woman grown myself, you know.”
Sir Gerald still gazed at his wife. “But – a boy? How can you know?”
“I cannot know,” Lady Catherine mused, “but I am quite determined.”
Harriet smiled to herself. A new brother or sister, and one that really belonged to her, in a way her half-siblings never could. She had put aside her bitter thoughts, her secret complaints that her parents had not wed ten years sooner, and had denied her a great many joys in her childhood. And now she could put it to a new purpose – she would make sure her younger sibling would know all of them, every wish she had ever felt as a child would be granted to her younger brother or sister, and they, unlike her half-siblings, would really know her, would grow up playing with her. “But when,” she cried.
“I believe I will go into confinement before Christmas,” her mother said. “I daresay you can expect your brother or sister by the middle of December.”
“Oh, my love,” Sir Gerald said, “you have made me so happy!”
“But – oh!” Harriet frowned. “We shall not be able to travel to Sotherton in the autumn.”
“No, child, I am afraid we shall have to forgo that pleasure,” her father observed. “Your mother must be quite safe – we shall not risk a long journey at such a time.”
Harriet chewed her lip for a moment, not yet ready to speak her mind, though another plan was beginning to form there. She considered what she knew of Lydia’s upcoming journey with Mrs. Sutton, who was her own sister-in-law, after all. It should be perfectly natural that Harriet might accompany Mrs. Sutton to Sanditon. And if Mr. Rushworth happened to learn of it – happened to travel there himself, so much the better!
***
Georgiana was fluttering with anticipation on the morning of her brother’s arrival. She had meant to rush through breakfast, but was forestalled when Caroline, seated beside her reading the society pages, cried out.
“What is it,” Georgiana asked, leaning in to have a look.
Caroline recoiled. “I am not sure I want to say.”
Lydia, seated on Caroline’s other side, snatched the paper away, looked it over, and then announced, “John Willoughby of Allenham is to wed Miss Eliza Williams.”
Georgiana saw the looks of concern Caroline and Mary were giving her, but she gave her head a gentle shake. “Well – good. I am glad to hear it.”
Caroline patted her hand. “I am so sorry, dearest.”
“No, do not be sorry. I meant what I said, and I am very happy for Miss Williams. Indeed, I think I must be happy for myself. It was good of him to make things right with her, and it proves there was always some goodness in him – I did not imagine it, I was not so completely foolish. I was, perhaps, a little less deceived in his character, and I can take pleasure in knowing that.”
“Well said,” Mary declared. “Wise words, indeed.”
“And anyway,” Lydia said with a languid yawn, “there are sure to be better beaux in Sanditon!”
Georgiana smiled – she really believed that she meant what she had said. She had been wrong about Wickham, perhaps even wrong about Mr. Parker, but at least she had not been entirely wrong about Mr. Willoughby. She had every reason to believe that all would soon be well – William and Lizzy were coming, and better still, little Julia. It was a strange thing, her daughter coming to Rosings, the place she would someday inherit, but Georgiana meant to make many happy memories with her there.
Georgiana joined the others standing outside Rosings when the convoy of carriages was perceived making the final approach to the house. Caroline had gone off to the village, but meant to walk back with Captain Wentworth; everyone else was there. Five splendid carriages came to a halt in front of Rosings Park, and Georgiana was practically bouncing with excitement to see her brother and his wife, and to hold her child in her arms. She must be so big!
In a moment everyone was out of the carriages and embracing one another. Amidst the commotion, Georgiana found her brother, and practically threw herself into his arms. He hugged her tightly, professed every proper sentiment of having missed her a great deal, and then turned to help his wife alight from the carriage. Elizabeth handed Julia down to Georgiana, who eagerly took her daughter in her arms. “My dear girl! My, but you have grown!” She gave the babe a great many kisses, rocking her happily.
Georgiana made way for Elizabeth to come out of the carriage, and had turned away when something caught her eye – there was one other person to alight, and it was Sidney Parker!
Georgiana scarcely had time to exchange a bewildered greeting with him before she was swept away with embraces and salutations from the rest of her family. Her uncle, the Earl, and his wife came next, and then Mrs. Bennet and Aunt Jennings, the two merriest widows there ever were, came rushing forward to fawn over her.
“I hope my letter reached you in time, my dear! Oh but, I see that it has, for you are all smil
es. Come here, give your auntie a kiss!”
Mrs. Bennet hugged Georgiana, too. “What a sad business – shocking to hear of – but I shan’t speak a word of it – but you can do much better, as grand as a lord, I am sure!”
Georgiana was still holding Julia; she was obliged to hand her daughter off to William so that the poor child would not get crushed by any further displays of affection. Marianne came forward next. “Georgiana,” she whispered in her ear, “get used to holding babies, Cousin, for I have some news for you!”
Georgiana laughed. “You must be sure to share it with Aunt Catherine.”
Richard swept her up next. “I think you have gotten taller, Georgie. But you are in fine looks, little miss! And are you happy with what we have brought you?”
Introductions were necessary – Sidney Parker was presented to those who were not yet acquainted with him, and one other addition to their party was brought forth, Miss Catherine Morland, Marianne’s particular friend from Bath.
“Well, let us all get into the house,” Kate cried, looking happy to have a full house once more.
Robert looked rather less so, but agreed with his wife. “Yes, in with you all; I think it is going to rain.”
“It is not going to rain,” Marianne chided him. “I am going for a walk later.”
Aunt Jennings and Elizabeth exchanged a look of mirth, and in unison cried, “No!”
Georgiana begged off the tour of Rosings, which Kate had given many times and always took great delight in – Georgiana would go to the nursery, and hastened there at once, as the servants all bustled about the guest wing, bringing in all the luggage of ten people and a baby. Rosings was full to the brim, even with the couples and younger girls sharing rooms, and Georgiana knew she would not have much time alone with her daughter – she meant to make the most of it.