Epilogue
Elizabeth alighted the carriage in front of the house in Charles Street and turned back to lift down her son.
At four, he was energetic, curious, and not yet too big for Elizabeth to hoist into her arms. Her daughter climbed down after him on her own and skipped into the house, too old to need help but not too old to play. She had been much the same at ten.
As she placed her son on the pavement, his ball fell from his grasp and rolled down the street.
“Oh no,” he cried, pointing.
“Shall we catch it?” Elizabeth took his hand, and they ran together toward Berkeley Square to retrieve the ball. Soon, he was giggling as she tugged him along. It slowed to a stop near to the feet of a woman close to the corner, and her son bent to scoop it up.
“Pardon us, ma’am,” she said, a little breathless. Mrs Darcy did not run about as often as Lizzy Bennet once did. “The young master had a runaway.”
“He is a handsome boy, Mrs Darcy.”
Elizabeth started and looked at the feeble woman. She wore a walking dress of black bombazine, and her black crepe bonnet had a lace veil that came down to her chin.
“Do I know you, madam?” she asked, taking her son’s hand in hers.
She hesitated. “I am sorry to say that I am Mrs Wickham.”
Elizabeth exclaimed her surprise. The woman was Georgiana’s height, but the veil concealed her features.
She peered closer but could see little through the black lace.
Still, the voice and diffident manner reminded her of the girl she had once known.
“Forgive me for not recognising you. It has been a long time.”
“I did not intend to trouble you. I am now on my way.”
She moved to turn the corner, but Elizabeth stopped her. “Please, stay a moment. It has been nearly fifteen years. Would you like to come inside?”
Georgiana shook her head. “I was only in London on business and thought to catch a glimpse of a former life.”
“Mamma?” Her son scuffed his feet and pulled on her hand, giving all the hints that his patience was at an end. Elizabeth caught the eye of the footman by the carriage and pointed to her son, and he came forward.
“Go inside and I will be along shortly. Papa should be in the library now.”
He ran off, and Georgiana said fondly, “He looks very like my brother, but he seems to have your energy. Your daughter looks exactly like you.”
“Did you ever have children, Mrs Wickham?” They had exchanged few letters over the past fifteen years, only to announce the arrival of her children and a matter of family business.
Otherwise, there had been no contact between the respectable Darcys of Pemberley and the wayward sister who threw herself away on a vice-prone gamester.
Georgiana took a long time to answer. “No, I was never so blessed. I thought so many times, but I could never keep them. A consequence of my illness, I suspect.”
The clouds moved away, and in the light of a sunbeam, Elizabeth had a better view of Georgiana’s face. She had a dusky-red ulcer at the corner of her mouth, a gaping crater that looked painful. However, Georgiana spoke easily and seemed unbothered by it.
Keeping her composure at the sight, Elizabeth asked, “Would you like to come inside? Fitzwilliam is—”
“I saw him walk home a quarter of an hour ago, and now that I have seen you and your little ones, I know you are all well and happy. I am soon returning to Scotland.”
Elizabeth held out a hand for her to stay. “Give your brother a chance to see you.”
Her lips moved into what might have been a smile. It was hard to tell through the veil and with the sore. “I have injured him, and you—my entire family, truly. He will not forgive me.”
She knew that to be far from the truth. Darcy was the most generous man she knew. “Does that sound like him?” she asked gently.
Georgiana sighed. “The truth is, I am too ashamed.”
She knew all too well what shame felt like, what it could do to your soul.
“We soon go to Kent for Easter. If Fitzwilliam can forgive Lady Catherine for her insults against me, he will certainly see you.” Lady Catherine’s language toward her was so offensive that for years, all contact was at an end.
“Where are you staying? Please, give him the chance to see you.”
Georgiana took a long time to answer. “He will not choose it, but I am in town until Friday. I am at Ibbetson’s, on Vere Street.
” She held out a hand. “I do not expect to see you again, Mrs Darcy, but I am exceedingly sorry for my part in deceiving you, and stealing from you, and threatening your happiness with my brother.”
Elizabeth instantly took her frail hand, but before she could grant her forgiveness, Georgiana left without another word.
She watched her for a while before going into the house.
When she entered the library, she saw their daughter standing next to Darcy, a hand around his waist. He was in front of the bookcase with their son on his shoulders.
It warmed her heart to live in a home where the library was a family space.
“I need your help to get a book for your sister. Can you reach it?”
Their little boy strained for it. “Almost!” He stretched a bit farther and retrieved it. “I got it!”
Darcy lifted him down, and Elizabeth noticed he had been standing next to a perfectly functional library stepladder.
“Thank you. Where would I be without your help?” he said, taking the book while his son beamed. Darcy winked at his daughter for helping him to indulge her brother. “Now, if you borrow this, you must tell me what you think of it.”
She smiled a gap-toothed smile and nodded. She would be finished in three days and chatter Darcy’s ear off about it until she begged for another one.
Elizabeth came farther into the room. “Why do you two not run along to Nanny while I talk to Papa?”
Her daughter took her book in one hand and her brother’s hand in the other.
He was sure to collect his ball on his way to run up the stairs.
Elizabeth still wished they would have more children.
In fifteen years, the Gardiners had three more, and all her sisters had several children.
Jane and Bingley had six, and they had been married nearly as long.
Darcy always comforted her by saying he was glad to not have her health threatened, that endless confinements and nursing would drain her.
“I am exceedingly happy with our two, but there are twelve years between my sister and me,” he said, coming up behind her. He rarely mentioned his sister but, whenever he did, he no longer mentioned her in a tone of frustration. “I do not yet despair of having another child to spoil.”
She smiled. He was dedicated to continuing to try, at least. From the look in his eye, he was clearly thinking the same thing and willing to begin now.
“We have to go out after we see to the children. Mrs Ballston has married off the last of her daughters and is hosting a ball. I am told we must be the first couple that trips on the light fantastic toe.”
Darcy feigned resignation. “Very well. But after I dance with you and the new bride, I am hiding in the card room whilst you charm everyone who crosses your path until you allow us to come home.”
She agreed, but Darcy looked at her for a long moment. “What is the matter, dearest?”
“How can you tell anything is the matter?”
“I have always been able to tell. What is left to decide is if you will tell me about it. I don’t want my wife to feel that she must keep secrets from me.”
“I don’t want to be a wife who keeps secrets. I was just struggling with my own feelings about what happened outside.” She took a steadying breath before she told him, “I saw Georgiana at Berkeley Square.”
Surprise flooded his countenance. “Was Wickham with her?”
“No, and she wore all black, so I suspect he is dead, unless she is mourning someone else. She was reluctant to speak to me. She said she was in London on business and just wanted a glimpse of us—and she asked for my forgiveness.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Did she not want to see me?”
She saw how that hurt him. “She is ashamed. She is also ill, it seems.”
He exhaled heavily. “The pox?”
She nodded, and he muttered a curse under his breath. “She is at a hotel until Friday, if you want to go to her. I think apologising to you would bring her some comfort.”
He was quiet, pacing slowly in front of his desk. “Is it too late to give her that?” he asked her. “I am not angry, but to tell her I forgive her seems an insult to you.”
“To me?” she cried.
He came up to her with quick steps. “I will never forget your dead-eyed look, the dark circles like bruises under your eyes. You hardly ate. You felt like you did not deserve to be happy. I have never seen anyone in such despair, although you desperately tried to hide it. She may not have wanted to go through with calling you an adulteress, but she knew it was wrong and helped Wickham anyway.”
Elizabeth put her arms around him. “It was my fault for involving myself and keeping the truth from you. I forgave her a long time ago. Don’t hold on to anger for my sake.
I am waiting on Lady Catherine in a week, after all,” she added with a laugh, “and she thought I married you for your money and could be paid to be unfaithful so you could divorce me and marry her daughter instead.”
Darcy gave a faint smile and put his arms around her waist. “If you agreed, you could have escaped me with enough money to damn the public consequence of the scandal. What would your price have been?”
“Well, I have two hundred a year as Mrs Darcy, and a settlement and a home for life too. She would have had to at least match that. And compensate me for the irreparable infamy that came with it.” She kissed him quickly.
“But by then, I felt an attraction and a respect for you. I was halfway to being in love with you, and there is no price on that.”
Darcy gave her a lingering kiss, but she pulled back and said, “Ibbetson’s hotel, until Friday.”