Epilogue Chapter 1
East Sitting Room
Rosings
Anne de Bourgh adjusted her spectacles and tilted Elizabeth’s letter to better allow the sunlight to fall on the page.
Pemberley
18th April 1813
Dear Anne,
I hope this letter finds you healthy and happy. We are very well, though I am already eager to meet the heir to Pemberley and still have about six weeks to wait!
Fitzwilliam is very protective of me, as you would expect, but our accoucheur assures him that daily walks are not only reasonable but advantageous for me, so we often wander around Lady Anne’s rose garden or down the path to the stone bridge over the trout stream.
I have lived here at Pemberley almost a year now, and I am still in awe of its beauty.
I am glad that you like Charlotte Allen so much.
She and I have been close friends for many years, and I am incredibly grateful that you offered the Hunsford living to old Mr. Allen’s eldest son.
I admit that I had no idea that Gregory has been carrying the torch for Charlotte for a full decade, but I am overjoyed that your patronage permitted him to ask for her hand in marriage at last. As you know, Charlotte is a sensible and generous lady, and I know she will do an excellent job as mistress of Hunsford.
I am pleased to hear that Lady Catherine is causing less trouble than you expected, though that is not saying a great deal. I would not have put it past your mother to storm Rosings on horseback with a sword in her hand!
The important thing, certainly, is that you have ensured that the servants and dependents of Rosings are loyal to you, not your mother.
You asked about the Bingleys. Jane is still recovering from the birth of her son, but she is doing very well indeed. My mother is staying with them at Netherfield Hall, and reading between the lines of Jane’s letter, she has been surprisingly helpful during this season.
Well, I must dress for dinner. In addition to my two younger sisters and Georgiana, who are all in residence, we have some of our neighbors coming for dinner.
God bless,
Elizabeth Darcy
Anne folded the letter, placed it carefully on the small table at her side, leaned against her chair, and allowed her eyes to rove slowly around the room.
When she had taken control of Rosings less than a year before, she had been distressed to learn that in spite of the estate’s robust income, there was substantial debt.
Lady Catherine had been spending money lavishly for many years on clothing and furniture and jewelry, while also neglecting such bourgeois concerns as drainage, fencing, and tenant houses.
Anne had been enormously grateful when her cousin Richard had requested, and been granted, another leave of absence from his military duties.
He had spent three months with her, helping her make decisions about Rosings, the servants, and the tenants, while also making frequent trips to the Dower House to squash the machinations of Lady Catherine as needed.
Given the rather distressing financial situation, Anne had decided against purchasing any new furniture or draperies or carpets for the house.
This room, which faced toward the formal gardens, had been entirely rearranged with chairs and sofas and drapes from other rooms. She was pleased with the result.
Her eyes drifted to her left hand, and she smiled at the sight of the simple ring on her finger.
Richard had asked for her hand in marriage the day before he departed for Brighton, where he was due to train new recruits, and she had accepted with alacrity.
They had been separated for many long months, but now Richard had finished his duties for the military and sold his commission, and in a few short weeks, they would be man and wife.
She still walked every day, and there was no doubt that she was far, far healthier than she had been even a year previously. How thankful she was for a life without her overbearing mother directing her every step, and in a short time, she would be married to the man she loved.
***
The Nursery
Netherfield Park
Jane Bingley ran a gentle hand over the nearly bald head of her son and heir, Mr. Aaron Bingley. The child was currently devoted to his primary purpose in life, namely suckling, and ignored his mother’s hand with regal indifference.
“He is so incredibly beautiful, Jane,” Mary Collins said.
Jane lifted her eyes to her middle sister and smiled at the sight.
Mary’s face was pleasingly plump, and her abdomen was abundantly obvious in her muslin dress.
The Collinses’ first child was due in only three weeks, and Jane suspected that Mary, in spite of her outward placidity, was both excited and anxious about the upcoming birth.
“He is,” Jane said. “How are you feeling, Mary?”
“I am well enough.”
“Which is to say that you are not sleeping well, and the child kicks you mercilessly?”
Mary looked startled at this cheeky statement and then smiled. “Yes, exactly. So that is normal?”
Baby Aaron had fallen asleep, and Jane expertly lifted him to her shoulder, patted his back until he burped, and then said, “Yes, entirely normal. I could not believe how much better I slept once Aaron was born, though of course I am up at night nursing him. But it is easier.”
“That is good to hear,” Mary said, sighing with relief.
“How is Mr. Collins feeling about the baby?”
“Oh, he is incredibly excited and very sweet, along with being overprotective. He hired two nursemaids for the infant already, even though we still have a few more weeks.”
“You think you do,” Jane said. “Babies come a little early sometimes.”
“True,” Mary acknowledged.
“Regarding Mamma,” Jane said a moment later.
“Yes?”
“She was actually helpful during my delivery, but if you do not want her there, I hope you will let me and Charles keep her here with us at Netherfield. We can manage that.”
“I would like her at the delivery,” Mary said, “but if she hovers and fusses too much afterwards, William will send a frantic message and ask you to carry her away.”
“We can do that,” Jane said with a chuckle.
The sisters lapsed into contented silence, and Jane found herself looking out the window facing north. In the far distance, tenant farmers were planting the fields. Closer by, cattle and sheep grazed in pastures green and lush.
Her dear Charles was inspecting one of the tenant cottages, which had a leaking roof.
Her husband had, she knew, matured a great deal in the past year, as he first became a husband and then a father.
She did not know if they would stay at Netherfield forever, but she knew that she and Charles were learning vital skills which would benefit them wherever they happened to live.
***
Archery Range
Pemberley
The oak tree had budded out its full complement of leaves, velvet-soft and brilliant jewel green, and its branches waved slightly in a soft wind. The foliage was sufficiently dense to entirely shade the lady seated on a bench under its spreading branches.
Elizabeth drew her shawl closer around her shoulders.
The white wool was soft as a cloud, close-knit and warm, and fully sufficient to ward off the mild chill of the day.
She leaned back against the decorative carved spindles with a faint smile, watching the activity in front of her.
This particular bench, its wood worn to silky smoothness by weather and much sitting, had become one of her favorites, not least for its position near the archery range.
The targets were set up some thirty feet away in the field perpendicular to her, and barring some absurd accident, Elizabeth was quite safe where she was.
She was confident that today would bring about no such accident, since Lydia was almost as accomplished a teacher as she was an archer, and her student was precocious.
Right now, Lydia was circling Georgiana with a critically approving eye, while Georgiana stood elegantly straight, an arrow nocked to her string and pulled back.
It was a difficult position to hold for long, and Lydia made only a minor adjustment to the other girl’s stance before stepping back.
Georgiana held her form for one more second and let the arrow go.
It flew straight and true, faster than the eye could follow, and buried itself in the target only a few inches from the center.
Elizabeth was surprised and pleased, as such a result was impressive.
Her sister by marriage had a distinct knack, given that she had taken archery up only the previous autumn.
“Oh, very good, Georgiana!” Lydia exclaimed, and Georgiana smiled shyly.
Elizabeth settled back on her bench again, her lips curved upwards.
She had expected many blessings when she married her beloved Fitzwilliam, but she had not foreseen shy, reserved, sweet Georgiana becoming bosom friends with the lively and loud Lydia.
Despite her own doubts at the outset, the friendship had been mutually beneficial to all of her sisters, for where Lydia went there Kitty went too.
Lydia’s fulsome compliments and brash personality had gone far in imbuing Georgiana with a badly needed degree of confidence.
Georgiana, refined and accomplished, encouraged Kitty in her sketching, and as a result, the fourth Bennet daughter was beginning to truly flourish as an artist, while Lydia was finally beginning to slow down and consider the consequences of her recklessness.
Georgiana retreated a few steps, and Kitty stepped up to take her place, nocking her arrow with confidence and bending her bow with ease.
A moment and a breath as she sighted down the shaft, then it too cleaved the air.
Elizabeth was too far away to hear the thunk when it hit the target, but she noted with approval that it had hit the second circle from the center.
“Good morning, my darling.”
Elizabeth turned in surprise. She had been so engrossed by the archers that she had missed the soft footfalls of her favorite person on earth.
“Fitzwilliam,” she said and patted the seat to her left. “Do sit down.”
He did so and reached a long arm over to pull her close to him.
“How is our child today?” he asked softly. Elizabeth moved her hand to lay it on her abdomen, and her baby kicked obligingly.
“The babe is very active,” she said.
He grinned at her, and she thought, not for the first time, that he was quite the most handsome man in all of Britain.
“I received a letter from Richard,” he remarked.
Elizabeth tilted a curious head in his direction. “How is he?”
“Eager to wed Anne,” Darcy said with a smile. “He and his family are traveling to Rosings next week, and Richard and Anne will marry by license a few days later.”
Elizabeth regarded him solemnly. “If you want to go…”
He reached out to touch her hand. “No, I am staying here. Our child is due in the next few weeks, and I would never forgive myself if I missed the birth.”
She could not suppress a sigh of relief. She knew that Darcy cared deeply for his cousins, but she definitely wanted him here when she went into labor.
“Thank you, I am glad you will be here with me,” she said. “I hope that Lady Catherine does not cause trouble.”
Darcy chuckled and said, “Lord Matlock is entirely capable of managing his sister.”
She nodded and was suddenly aware of a surge of fatigue. She was, thanks to the pregnancy, not sleeping particularly well.
Her eyes fluttered a little, and she forced them open and sat up straight again.
“Are you tired, Elizabeth?”
“I am,” she confessed.
“I can escort you home.”
She looked around at the girls chattering like squirrels as they shot arrows to and fro, at the soft fluffy clouds floating overhead, and finally at her husband, who gazed down at her with gentle concern.
“Or I can take a nap here?” she suggested.
He smiled and pulled her a trifle closer. “Yes, you can.”
Elizabeth leaned against his broad chest, closed her eyes, and quickly slipped into sleep.