Epilogue
Autumnal Equinox
The silver birch trees ringing Nine Ladies were shorter, and rather than see her brother and sister-in-law holding hands, Young Henry Roland, her gamekeeper, held a lantern aloft.
She would never see their faces again, never see Elizabeth’s kind-hearted smile, never brace herself for one of Sandra’s full-weight hugs, never hear Fitzwilliam’s voice telling her that he was proud of her.
She wished now for their century’s sound records and light-captured images and instantaneous contact.
But those were impossible, and memories would have to do.
“Ma’am?” Young Henry came near as she struggled to her feet, peering at her as he held her cloak over his arm. “Are you well?”
She nodded, not yet trusting her voice, looking all round.
She was home, two hundred years away from where she departed.
But here on the moor, in the dark, it looked deceptively like the same time and place she just left.
This was where she belonged, but her dear brother was truly gone, and whatever happened now with Mr Willers and Pemberley, she would face it alone.
Young Henry watched her as she sighed and took in her surroundings, and then silently put the cloak over her shoulders. “Here, ma’am. Reynolds said you might be cold. Shall I take you home?”
Georgiana tried to walk out of the circle, but her vision swam and she staggered. Young Henry rushed forward and caught her arm.
“Steady there, ma’am. I can carry you to the cart.”
“I am well, merely dazed and dizzy, and rather weary. I know from experience it will pass.”
Despite her plea, he insisted on supporting her as they walked to the cart to drive to Pemberley.
It would take them an hour to return home in the dark, with only the lantern as a carriage light to illuminate their path.
Not an hour ago, she had driven the same distance—illuminated with glaring lights painful to look at—in less than ten minutes.
Her family would already be driving past Bakewell, and would be home with their daughter within moments.
She was lost in her own thoughts, considering her grief at parting from Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth forever, her anxiety at how she would find Pemberley after so long, and her eagerness and unease at seeing Mr Willers.
She put up her hood, content with silence, but Young Henry was always inclined to chat.
“Will we ever be accustomed to such a sight?” he muttered, flicking the reins. “Watching someone just appear or disappear before your eyes?”
“It is too fantastic to grow accustomed to, but I expect it is nothing we will experience again.”
“Mr Darcy is not coming back?” he asked, his tone showing that he did not expect an affirmative answer.
“Oh no, not at all,” she murmured. Fitzwilliam adored his family and was committed to life in 2026. If there was anything certain in this world, it was that her brother would never leave Elizabeth and Sandra.
She wanted someone to have the same devotion to her, to family and home.
“I hope the old master is happy there. He is unusually brave.”
That had not occurred to her. She had thought him romantic, and a little reckless, but still careful of what mattered, but she supposed he was also fearless.
One would have to be courageous to leave everything one had ever known, live in exile in another century, and also harbour a deep secret forever.
He had to be brave to trust in her to take care of Pemberley in his place for future generations.
They might not be blood relations, but Georgiana was a Darcy of Pemberley.
She must also be brave, albeit in a different way.
She might not have Fitzwilliam’s confidence, his conviction, but she too could secure her own happiness.
She had not had the courage before, but her brother’s validation and blessing now made her feel like that future happiness was within reach.
“Reynolds has a place to hide you, a house near Hill Close Farm that won’t be rented until October,” Young Henry went on. “Mr Willers found a ship disembarking in Portsmouth in a fortnight that we can say you were on. You can stay in the house until then to complete the ruse.”
Georgiana’s heart pounded at hearing his name. “Mr Willers is still here, then?”
“Until tomorrow. He was waiting to make sure you returned before he left for his new position. The coachman is taking him to the posting inn in the morning.”
This was her last moment to tell him of her hopes and wishes, and her stomach twisted at the thought of speaking her feelings. She might be resolved to tell him that she loved him, but she did not feel brave.
“Please take me to the steward’s cottage,” she asked, scarcely above a whisper. “I must speak with Mr Willers without delay.”
Georgiana felt his silent disapproval before he said, “It is late, and all of Mr Willers’s servants have left since he goes tomorrow.”
“I have been gone for months and must speak with my steward,” she said in a stronger voice.
“I know you are the owner, ma’am,” he insisted, “but it gives an odd appearance for you to show up at this hour, and unaccompanied.”
He meant an odd appearance for a female. “No one even knows I am in England. And I hope you are not suggesting anything untoward, Mr Roland.”
For all his talk of wishing to drop the “young” now that he was grown, Young Henry blushed at her reprimand.
“No, ma’am. I only know how it would look to others if they learnt of it.
Let me take you to the empty home by Hill Close and see you settled.
I will tell Reynolds you are back; she can send a note to the steward’s cottage to ask Mr Willers to call on you tomorrow when Reynolds can be there with you. ”
Her brother could have gone anywhere he wanted, whenever he wanted, when he was master of Pemberley.
And in 2026, Elizabeth could have knocked on Roland’s door at any time too.
A woman’s proper place had changed drastically over time.
All she wanted was a private conversation before it was too late.
And before she lost her nerve.
Looking aside at her gamekeeper, Georgiana said, “I see the chain of your pocket watch. It belonged to your grandfather, did it not?”
“Aye,” he said proudly. “Old Mr Darcy, your father, I mean, gave it to him.”
“I met the man who has it in 2026.” Young Henry Roland whipped his head to look at her.
“In two hundred years, a descendant of yours works for Pemberley. You might even say he is my brother’s right-hand man.
He now owns that watch. He knows about Nine Ladies, and his life is intertwined with Pemberley’s. ”
Georgiana dropped her tone to be one more like her brother’s when he would brook no opposition. “Do I not have a loyal member of the Roland family in my employ? Or is Mr Darcy in 2026 the only master of Pemberley to be that fortunate?”
“No, ma’am.”
“I had no doubt. Take me to Mr Willers’s house, please.”
She smiled to herself as they approached Pemberley’s land.
Her brother was sterner than she was, more forceful.
Speaking with authority came more naturally to him.
Her way of dealing with men who pushed back was to stay silent and wait.
She was shy in any event, but the silences helped her.
Some men would rush to fill them, and others would assume that they had won.
But she would only wait and then calmly repeat what she had already decided or had asked of them.
Eventually, her steady manner and quietness got the same result.
She patiently listened and was good at observing others and seeing where tensions were and where compromises could be made. But perhaps there was also some usefulness in being bold.
When Mr Willers’s cottage on the grounds was in sight, she said, “You can leave me there and then go up to the house to tell Reynolds I am returned.”
“Leave you there, ma’am? No. I will wait until you are finished.”
She could not speak honestly with Mr Willers knowing Young Henry kept the horses standing on the other side of the door.
And, if Mr Willers did not want her, she had no wish for Young Henry to see her leave the house wracking with sobs.
Even if Mr Willers did not return her affections, he would at least see her to the cottage she was to stay in for a fortnight.
Georgiana looked at her gamekeeper and decided against using the same stern tone again. She was silent and merely waited for him to relent. He stopped the cart and told her to wait. “Let me first knock and see if he is at home.”
She had to speak to him tonight. Her former steward knew she was returning at sunset, but would he expect to see her so soon? He was likely planning on meeting with her on his way to London tomorrow. She longed to know what was passing through Mr Willers’s mind, in what manner he thought of her.
Young Henry knocked, and from her seat in the cart she saw candlelight through a window move from the back of the house toward the front. The door opened slowly, and then Mr Willers himself threw it open.
He did not look to the cart, and took in Young Henry’s appearance with surprise. “Roland,” he cried. “Is she back? What happened?”
Young Henry gestured behind him, and Georgiana pushed back her cloak’s hood. Mr Willers’s gaze went over her gamekeeper’s head to where she sat on the bench. Despite her nervousness, she felt such a relief at seeing his dear familiar face. He, however, looked pained upon recognising her.
“Miss Darcy,” he murmured, inclining his head. “What is the matter? Reynolds said you would hide by Hill Close until they could pretend your ship—”
“I needed to speak with you, and Young Henry said you were leaving in the morning.” An awful realisation occurred to her, and her heart sank. “You were going to leave without seeing me,” she whispered, “without saying goodbye.”