Epilogue Chapter 1 #2
Darcy alighted from the carriage and turned back at once, offering a solicitous hand to his ponderous wife as she began to descend.
Elizabeth’s footing was still sure, but Darcy knew simply from the rotundity of her form that her balance had to be thrown off by their child, who at seven months of gestation already displayed signs of being heartily robust. She grasped his proffered hand readily enough, giving him a grateful smile as he helped her navigate the steps of the carriage to the gravel below.
Darcy tucked his wife’s hand into his elbow with a little pat and turned them both towards the front door of Longbourn, as another two carriages rolled up the lane behind them.
Mr. Hill opened the door while Darcy and Elizabeth mounted the steps, a regiment of maids waiting inside to assist them.
In preparation for the day, Mrs. Bennet had made inquiries among all the local tenant families to find out if any older daughters who had not yet entered service would care to come help out for the day.
Now several such girls fidgeted with nervous excitement, a few of their number stepping forward to take Elizabeth’s pelisse and gloves and bonnet and Mr. Darcy’s hat and cane.
Darcy watched as his wife glanced nostalgically around the entrance hall of her childhood home and exchanged greetings with the butler. Behind them, more guests filtered in, and one of the maids dropped a curtsey and said, “Mr. and Mrs. Wickham are in the drawing room.”
“Thank you, Sally,” Elizabeth said with a smile, and she and Darcy stepped into the drawing room.
There was no chance of even approaching the happy couple yet, for they were seated at a small table in the very middle of the room and were surrounded like an island by an ocean of well-wishers crammed into the room.
Darcy found an empty chair near the wall and saw his wife established there, easing her onto the seat so she could take the weight off her feet.
He stood beside her a moment, looking across the room over the heads of the visitors at the newlywed couple.
Each had a plate of ham and eggs and rolls and apple pie in front of them, completely untouched except for a single bite taken from Wickham’s pie.
Darcy remembered his own wedding breakfast and sympathized; he and Elizabeth had had fewer guests to wish them well, and he had still been ravenous by the time all greetings had been exchanged.
His eyes lingered on Wickham, looking very handsome in a coat of bottle blue.
Wickham was smiling affectionately down at his bride as they spoke with a plump elderly lady who beamed on them approvingly.
Darcy could not tear his eyes from Wickham’s joyful face, his own expression pensive.
He had been distressed when Elizabeth had first spoken of the betrothal, worried that his sister-in-law was engaged to a man who had, in the past at least, been a profligate, gambling-addicted spendthrift.
He was aware that Wickham had made changes.
In evidence of his progress, he had not run up any debts in Meryton and had even offered to pay off the debts he had left behind in Lambton.
Nonetheless, Darcy worried, and he had felt it necessary to send a carefully worded letter of concern to Elizabeth’s father on the matter. Mr. Bennet had heeded Darcy’s warning, rigorously examining Wickham to determine whether the young man had truly changed his ways.
At last, Darcy had been content with the assurances of both Mr. and Mrs. Bennet that Wickham’s reform was in earnest. He had sold out of the militia to escape constant temptation and made himself industrious as a clerk.
Mr. Phillips had nothing but praise for his integrity and hard work.
Wickham himself had begun to lay by savings, news that had surprised Darcy considerably, as this was somewhat uncommon even among staid and conservative gentlemen.
Bowing to the knowledge of those spending their time with Wickham on a daily basis, Darcy found himself reasonably calm with the betrothal.
The new Mary Wickham looked happy indeed, and she returned her new husband’s adoring look, her face soft and her eyes glowing, a brilliant smile lifting her mouth.
He knew that Elizabeth wanted, above all else, for her sisters to be happy, whether single or married, and that was why she had contributed to each of her sisters’ dowries so that they could marry whom they pleased without financial constraints.
In Mary’s case, at least, it had granted her exactly that freedom.
At his current income, it was unlikely that Wickham could support a wife and children, be he ever so frugal, but between his wages and Mary’s four hundred pounds a year coming from the four percents, the couple could live modestly but comfortably.
Mary was a sensible woman and had been taught how to maintain a household, and the Wickhams would manage with ease.
Across the room, Wickham caught Darcy’s eye and inclined his head slightly. Darcy nodded in return before turning away as they were joined by his mother-in-law.
“My dear Lizzy, Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Bennet said, hurrying up and depositing herself on a chair near her daughter, “I am so sorry I was not able to come over and greet you at Netherfield Hall yesterday, but we had a hundred little problems crop up with the wedding breakfast.”
“It is quite all right, Mamma,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “I completely understand. Mary seems overjoyed.”
Mrs. Bennet cast a joyful look at her third daughter and said, “I have no doubt that she is. She and Mr. Wickham will be very happy, and I am pleased that she and Wickham will be settled near us. They will be living in the Zimmers’ old house, you know, next to the Phillips.
But enough about them. How are you feeling, dear one? ”
Darcy cast an anxious look on his darling. Elizabeth was not prone to complaining, not at all, but he knew that she sometimes slept poorly thanks to the child who seemed especially interested in kicking his mother in the wee hours of the night.
“I am well enough,” Mrs. Darcy said with a smile. “I am tired and very bulbous, but that is to be expected. I am looking forward to meeting our little one and find it rather hard to wait, though I realize that the child needs more time.”
“Indeed,” her mother agreed with a nod of the head. “You will be seeing Sir William Knighton, the Regent’s doctor, when you go to Town, I understand?”
“Yes,” Darcy said firmly, and both mother and daughter looked up and smiled at him.
“All will be well with Elizabeth,” Mrs. Bennet said in a soothing tone. “My family has a long history of bearing children with perfect ease.”
He could not help but be grateful for this reassurance, because he adored Elizabeth with his whole heart, and yes, he was fearful of the birth of his child. But worry did no one any good. He must leave his concerns in the hands of God.
***
East Sitting Room
Longbourn
The east sitting room was a fair distance from the drawing room where George and Mary Wickham were being congratulated by their well-wishers. This suited Jane well, as it meant she and her two friends could eat in peace.
“I am so glad you will be with us in London, Jane,” Serena Darcy said and took a sip of lemonade before continuing.
“Elizabeth will be there, naturally, but with her coming close to her time, well, she will certainly not be attending a great many balls. Not that I expect you to be at every ball I attend, but…”
“I would be very pleased to go to every ball you go to, so long as I am invited, obviously,” Jane said fervently.
Serena smiled gratefully, and Georgiana said, “Are you looking forward to taking part in another Season, Jane?”
Jane leaned back in her chair and took a sip of her own lemonade.
“Yes, I am,” she said after a moment of contemplation. “I enjoy balls and routs and such, though I think this Season, I will not be quite so active. I want to be a support to Elizabeth during her confinement, and I also do not like going to bed so very late four days out of five!”
“I agree entirely,” Serena said with a groan. “I prefer to write in the morning, and last spring there were times when I could barely drag myself out of bed at ten o’clock and was exhausted all day.”
“Many congratulations again on the publication of your book,” Jane said, though softly. She knew that Serena’s authorship was a secret. “I am amazed every time I consider it.”
“Thank you, I am proud and happy,” Serena replied, her cheeks a pleasing pink.
“Jane,” Georgiana said, “do you happen to know why Caroline Bingley is not dwelling at Netherfield Hall? Mr. Bingley mentioned that Mrs. Hurst will be acting as his hostess, but he only said vaguely that Miss Bingley is elsewhere.”
Jane chuckled and said, “I do know, because Mrs. Hurst told me. Miss Bingley is visiting an old school friend in Suffolk and is apparently hoping for an offer from her friend’s brother, who is heir to a baronetcy.”
The Darcy ladies exchanged glances, and Serena said, “If she succeeds, she will certainly rise higher in Society, which I suppose will please Miss Bingley.”
Jane sighed and said, “The family in question is dealing with some serious debts, and if the marriage occurs, it will be based on finances and connections, not true love. Of course, Miss Bingley likely thinks that entirely reasonable. It is not the sort of marriage I would want.”
“Neither would I,” Serena agreed, and Georgiana hummed in agreement.
The three ladies settled into a companionable silence as they addressed themselves to the excellent food. Jane found herself thinking, for the hundredth time, of Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, Serena and Georgiana’s cousin.
Ever since the colonel had thrown Lady Catherine out of the house during the Darcys’ wedding breakfast, Jane’s thoughts turned to the gentleman with tender admiration.
He was not particularly handsome, but was that so very important?
Looks would fade in time, and it was a man’s character that would remain.
He was undeniably protective, along with being friendly and well-mannered.
She knew that he was still stationed in London and was confident that she would see him relatively often. As a lady, she could not be forceful in her pursuit of a gentleman, but she looked forward to spending time with the colonel to see whether they were suited for marriage.
***
The Darcys’ Guest Bedchamber
Netherfield Hall
Midnight
Elizabeth nestled deeper into the embrace of the absurdly comfortable mattress in the guest room assigned to her and her husband.
The fire across the room crackled quietly, adding to the somnolence tugging her eyelids down.
She was delightfully warm, swathed as she was in her flannel nightgown and nightcap, the heavy blankets snug atop her, and the warming pans only recently having been removed from between the sheets.
It was delightful to lie here in cozy comfort with extra pillows supporting her swollen abdomen, resting her leaden limbs and reflecting on the day.
What a busy day it had been! Mary had looked glorious indeed, dressed in green silk, walking down the aisle on Mr. Bennet’s arm, beaming with joy as she met her groom.
Elizabeth would not soon forget the look of adoring tenderness on Wickham’s face as he had received Mary’s hand, and she approved.
It was just such a look as her Fitzwilliam often bent on her.
The wedding breakfast had not been as grand as it could have been, but what it had lacked in pomp it had made up for with liveliness, as all their friends and neighbors were eager to wish Mary and her new husband well.
Given her delicate condition, Elizabeth had not been expected to take any part in the hostessing duties, which was a relief, as carrying the increasingly cumbersome heir of Pemberley was growing more wearying by the day.
Elizabeth was pleased not only for Mary and Wickham, but for Mr. and Mrs. Bennet too.
They both missed Elizabeth, and she missed them.
It must be of great satisfaction to the Bennet family that the Wickhams would be settled nearby and that Mary would live in the little town so beloved to her quiet, reserved heart.
She would be a capable wife to a solicitor’s clerk, and later on to a solicitor when Mr. Phillips retired and passed his practice on to Wickham.
With her organized mind and housekeeping skills, Mary would be invaluable to her husband in his profession, and by God’s grace she would be blessed with children soon.
She would, Elizabeth thought, be an excellent mother.
The opening of the door to the sitting room stirred Elizabeth from her increasingly sleepy thoughts, and she slit her eyes open enough to see her husband approaching their bed, dressed in his white nightshirt.
She smiled a sleepy welcome as he sank onto the edge of the mattress, set his candle on the bedside table and blew it out before joining her beneath the mound of blankets.
As he always did, he immediately rolled over to meet her, snugging her and her retinue of pillows into his solid, comforting form.
She relaxed against him, relishing his strong support and warmth against her aching back.
His arm wrapped over the top of her, protective and secure, his face nestling into her crisp nightcap.
Elizabeth settled with a deep sigh of contentment, her eyes closing once again. All was well with her world now, and at last, she could let sleep claim her.