Epilogue 1 #2
“Please, shall we all sit down?” Jane suggested, and the ladies and one gentleman obeyed. Charles, of course, chose a small couch that was the perfect size for his betrothed and himself.
“Elizabeth,” Jane said, “I am not certain if you heard, but Caroline and Louisa are overseeing the wedding breakfast here at Netherfield Hall. Is that not kind of them?”
Elizabeth turned and smiled at the ladies. “Oh, certainly, it is very kind. I am confident it will be the most wonderful wedding breakfast ever seen in these parts!
Caroline managed a saccharine smile and said, “Louisa and I are determined that it will be very fine indeed, yes. It is a pity that you and Mr. Darcy were not able to have any sort of wedding breakfast at all. Such a shame!”
Elizabeth was quite certain that this was a less than subtle dig at her hasty marriage to Fitzwilliam, but Mrs. Bennet instantly said, “It is a great pity, Miss Bingley, surely it is! I was very ready to prepare a sumptuous feast, but Mr. Darcy was determined to travel to Pemberley immediately! Such a masterful man, Mr. Darcy.”
“He is,” Elizabeth agreed, “along with being a wonderful husband. Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst, I assume you will be taking part in the upcoming Season?”
“Oh yes, of course,” Miss Bingley said. “And I assume you and Mr. Darcy will also be there?”
“Yes, for at least two months,” Elizabeth said. “We will have Miss de Bourgh and Miss Darcy with us, and while Miss Darcy is still too young for a Season, Miss de Bourgh is looking forward to spending time in society.”
“Her health must be much improved, then?” Jane asked.
“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “The air of Derbyshire seems to suit her very well.”
She was privately of the view that much of Anne’s improvement had to do with her distance from Lady Catherine, but naturally she could not say such a thing out loud, at least not here.
“And you and Charles will be coming to London soon, I presume?” Caroline Bingley asked Jane.
Jane and Charles exchanged loving glances, and the latter said, “We are not quite certain, Caroline. We are pleased with the country and Netherfield Hall.”
Elizabeth suppressed a smile. Based on her limited knowledge of Mr. Bingley, she thought he was the type of man who was usually most happy in the whirligig of society, but love was a splendid thing, and she now considered it likely that the newly married Bingleys would wish to spend as much time alone as possible for at least a few weeks.
***
Blue Parlor
Netherfield Hall
After the Bingleys’ wedding
Monday, 5th April 1811
Most of Meryton, all the parts of Meryton that counted, at least, had turned up for Jane's and Bingley’s wedding breakfast. The noise level in Netherfield Hall could be described as a dull roar, as guests milled about in sitting rooms and drawing rooms and dining rooms, eating and drinking and laughing and talking loudly.
Mr. Bennet was safely ensconced in a snug little parlor away from it all.
He had walked Jane down the aisle during the service and, upon arriving at Netherfield Hall for the breakfast afterwards, had kissed his daughter’s cheek and congratulated her and his new son by marriage.
His duty done, he had then helped himself to a full plate of food and a glass of very nice wine and made his escape.
He was perfectly happy, absorbed in a book laid open on his knee.
He had had the forethought to equip himself with a selection from his library before setting out for the church that morning, painfully aware of the sad dearth of acceptable books in Bingley’s pathetic library.
The noise of the party beyond the door had no power to annoy him today.
Jane, he thought affectionately, had the right to her joy.
During the wedding, he had had no qualms in passing her white-gloved hand to Charles Bingley, who was a devoted admirer and would be a good and kindly husband.
Both husband and wife were by nature so compliant and easy-going that it was uncertain that anything would ever be decided between them, aside from their happiness together.
Mr. Bennet sighed. He was genuinely pleased for his eldest child, but he was aware that Jane's gain was his loss.
With her departure to Netherfield, he would rarely hear a single sensible word under his own roof from now on.
It had been hard enough with Elizabeth gone nearly two years, far away in Derbyshire.
She wrote regularly, but letters could not in any way compare to an actual conversation.
He could, of course, have accompanied his wife and four daughters to Pemberley six months previously, when Elizabeth had been delivered of her first child.
He had even intended to go, lured by the promise of Elizabeth’s company and word of a truly remarkable library.
But then, only a few days before the journey was to commence, he had fallen victim to an ague.
It had been foolish to even consider journeying while ill, so he had stayed behind.
It was not an unpleasant time, when all was said and done, as he had recovered within a week and spent the next fortnight enjoying his solitude at Longbourn.
He would have other opportunities to visit Pemberley, but yes, he missed his Lizzy.
Mr. Bennet shook his head, chiding himself for his sudden glum mood.
Lizzy had been going to be married no matter what, and far better to an honorable man than to the conniving, avaricious, cruel Amos Stirling.
Elizabeth seemed happy, and by all indications, Mr. Darcy held his wife in very sincere affection.
Moreover, the wedding settlements had been astoundingly generous, given that the marriage had been the product of a compromise.
In truth, Elizabeth was situated as well as she could possibly be.
It was merely selfishness on her old father’s part that made him wish she were still at Longbourn.
A soft rustle of skirts caused him to look up, and a moment later, his second daughter entered the room with his grandson in her arms.
“Oh, Father!” Elizabeth exclaimed, surprised. “My apologies, I did not expect to see you here. Luke is a trifle fussy, and Fitzwilliam was going to bring me a plate of food here so we could talk, but we can find another…”
“Nonsense, my dear,” Mr. Bennet interrupted firmly.
He had never been someone who found babies particularly interesting, but he was pleased for his Lizzy that she had birthed such a handsome, fine boy, and he did not mind spending time with the infant so long as said infant did not start screaming vociferously.
Elizabeth smiled, took a seat on the sofa next to him, and turned her baby sideways so that he could see his grandfather.
The baby scrunched an interested brow and then produced a smile. Bennet found himself smiling in return, and even reached out one finger toward the baby, who happily grasped it with one slightly slobbery hand.
“He is a splendid fellow,” he said cheerfully.
Elizabeth leaned forward and planted a kiss on her son’s fuzzy head, and then said, “Yes, he is marvelous. I adore him.”
To Bennet’s considerable surprise, tears suddenly filled his eyes, and one salty drop treacherously slipped down his cheek.
Elizabeth looked equally shocked, as well as being distressed. “Father, whatever is wrong?”
He shook his head rapidly and wiped his face on his sleeve. “Nothing, my dear, nothing. I … am merely happy, so happy, for you. And I feel guilty, because for all that your marriage seems a good one, you were forced into it…”
“I absolutely insist you not worry about that,” Elizabeth interrupted. “Yes, our marriage was a rather peculiar one, but we are incredibly happy together. I cannot imagine being happier.”
The sound of footsteps caused both adults to turn toward the door, and then the master of Pemberley stepped through carrying a plate of food in each hand.
Luke, who had been sucking on his fist, was obviously overjoyed at the sight of his father, and for a moment, it was impossible to speak amid the squeals of delight.
When the baby had calmed, Elizabeth placed him in a sitting position on the floor, while Mr. Bennet left his seat so that his son-in-law could take it.
He stepped a few feet away between the baby and the door and allowed himself a moment to consider his Lizzy and her husband. They were eating now and talking casually, and in both speech and demeanor, it was obvious that they both respected and liked one another.
It was, Bennet mused, a gift from God on high, and he was grateful.