Epilogue 1
Drawing Room
Netherfield Hall
Jane Bingley shifted her position in her chair, the better to allow a breeze to cool her flushed cheeks. She did not generally overheat, but the combination of a hot day and her unborn child was making her uncomfortably warm.
“It is dreadfully hot,” Lady Bennet said, unfurling her fan to wave it at her eldest daughter. “I hope it will cool down in the next few days.”
“I agree,” Charles Bingley said, looking with concern at his wife. “Jane, would you care for some lemonade?”
“I would,” she said with a smile. “Thank you.”
He smiled back at her as he stood up and hurried toward the door, doubtless determined to fetch a cold drink as quickly as possible. Lady Bennet watched him leave and then said, “My dear, it is charming to see how Mr. Bingley waits on you hand and foot. I only hope that your child will be a son!”
“Charles says he does not mind if the child is a daughter,” Jane said, not for the first time. “Keep in mind that the Bingley fortune is not entailed away from the female line.”
“That is true,” her mother said and looked around herself with satisfaction. “My dear Jane, I am so very pleased that you and Mr. Bingley are settling here permanently. Such a charming estate and so convenient to Longbourn!”
Jane reached out to pat her mother’s hand. “I am thankful as well, Mamma.”
In truth, she and Charles had thought and prayed and talked for many hours before deciding to purchase Netherfield outright.
They had eventually decided that Netherfield, pleasingly located between London and Emerald Island and Pemberley, was an excellent place to live, with the added benefit that they would see Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth Darcy frequently as the pair journeyed to and fro between Pemberley and Emerald Island.
As for Longbourn, well, she hoped that Lady Bennet would not be too intrusive when the baby arrived.
“But what is this that I hear, that you are pensioning off Mr. Billingham?” her mother demanded. “He has overseen Netherfield for decades and has a great deal of experience!”
“Indeed he has,” Jane replied, “and it is well and truly time for him to rest and enjoy his later years, as the work has become too challenging for him. Charles and I are providing him with a very decent pension, and a new, younger steward, by the name of Mr. Dryden, will arrive within the week.”
Lady Bennet sighed and said, “Well, I daresay you know your own business well. Oh, my dear, to think of both you and Lizzy so very well married! I can hardly believe it!”
***
Emerald Island
Tuesday, 11th August, 1812
The Darcy carriage was made by eminent carriage builders and was exceptionally well sprung, but not even the best springs could counteract muddy, rutted roads that spent six hours out of every twenty-four underwater.
The tide had receded but a few hours previously, and despite the heat of the day, the road was still muddy.
Another bump swayed all the passengers against each other, like bowling pins being knocked down.
Elizabeth swayed into her husband, and Georgiana, between her companion and her cousin, nudged against first Mrs. Annesley, then Anne de Bourgh.
Luckily, the road turned smoother for a while after that, and Elizabeth, after sharing wry smiles with her fellow passengers, was able to turn her attention to the view outside.
This part almost made up for the roughness of the road to Emerald Island.
It never got old, looking out over the ocean that lapped at either side of the narrow dike whereon the road was built, the wind ruffling the blue silk of the water.
The Darcys and their guests had elected to ride with their windows open today, for the heat would be sweltering in a closed carriage and the brine-scented ocean breezes were now keeping them comfortably cool.
“Oh, how wonderful this feels,” Anne said from her side, and Elizabeth turned to smile at the heiress of Rosings.
She had only met Anne some three months previously when Lord and Lady Matlock had sent their niece to Pemberley, partially to remove the sickly lady from the smells of the City and partly to allow her more distance from her mother.
Lady Catherine, still outraged at Darcy’s marriage to Elizabeth, had nonetheless found the time to make a list of possible husbands for her daughter.
Anne, feeble and frail, truly did not wish to be married, at least not yet, and thus had welcomed the opportunity to flee London and any possible interaction with her mother and miscellaneous suitors.
Given Lady Catherine’s vitriol toward Elizabeth, it was not likely the older woman would ever again be permitted to cross the threshold of Pemberley.
“It is marvelous,” Elizabeth agreed, looking out again over the waters, deep azure and emerald green showing the hills and valleys of the ocean bed beneath. Waves wore white foam caps like clouds, gilded by the sun shining brilliant and hot and unobscured in a cloudless sky above.
The carriage finished crossing the isthmus and rolled onto the road that led to the village.
Elizabeth watched as they passed the road to Osea House.
They would visit Sir Thomas and Mary and Lydia tomorrow, but for today, they needed to reach their own quarters and rest after several busy days of travel.
The carriage crested a hill, and a minute later, it came to a halt.
After a moment, a footman opened the door from the outside, and Darcy handed out his sister, cousin, Mrs. Annesley, and finally Elizabeth.
She welcomed his touch and his support as she stepped carefully onto the gravel drive.
She was six months with child, and while still fairly light on her feet, appreciated her husband’s concern for her care and the unborn babe.
“Oh, Elizabeth, it is beautiful!” Georgiana cried out, gazing at the timbered house in front of them, which was backed by views of the ocean.
Elizabeth, looking from one side to another, found herself nodding in relieved agreement.
She and Darcy had concluded in February that Osea House on Emerald Island was not large enough to hold Bennets and Darcys and other miscellaneous relations and had decided to have another residence built, which they had elected to call Carnelian House.
They had made the arrangements by mail with a most distinguished architect whom Darcy knew personally, and Elizabeth had been reasonably confident that all was well, but to actually see the handsome brick house with her own eyes was a relief.
“Shall we go inside, dear one?” Darcy suggested.
***
Dining Room
Rosings
That Evening
Charlotte took a small bite of potatoes, keeping her eyes on her plate as she ate.
Lady Catherine was, as usual, dominating the conversation, and the subject was not to Charlotte’s taste this evening.
Lady Catherine must have been ill-pleased with the company in the neighborhood, for this was the Collins’ third visit this week.
They were usually only invited twice a week, unless Lady Catherine was in an unusually expansive mood or bored with any other potential guests.
Their visits were a mixed blessing. Lady Catherine’s monologues were invariably tiresome, for her conversation required nothing but an audience, and no dissent, however reasonable, was ever brooked.
At least Charlotte was free to let her mind wander, for no response was expected except an occasional murmur of agreement, and she could focus on enjoying her dinner.
The food, at least, could always be counted upon to be magnificent.
Even if Charlotte’s own carefully thrifty kitchen would never produce such dishes, she was perfectly capable of appreciating the variety of flavors and the skill of Lady Catherine’s cook.
“I spoke to Mrs. Stanyon very firmly,” Lady Catherine proclaimed, “and I told her that it is her own fault she is so poor! She needs to be more careful with her money. Moreover, if she had birthed sons instead of daughters, they would be old enough to help Mr. Stanyon which would increase the crop yields. And what is this I hear of them being ill? I am never ill!”
“Indeed, Lady Catherine,” Mr. Collins said, his plump face grave. “The tenants of Rosings are so very blessed to have you to guide and assist them.”
Charlotte took a bite of ham and chewed it thoroughly to force herself to keep quiet.
Mrs. Stanyon, wife of one of the tenant farmers, was already mother to four children under the age of ten, and she was pregnant again.
She was having a hard time of it, and Lady Catherine’s visit to berate her was not helpful.
Charlotte herself made a point of visiting the woman several times a week, always with a basket of food, and she typically stayed an hour to look after the children to allow the woman to rest.
“I flatter myself that I am a most diligent mistress of Rosings,” Lady Catherine said with a satisfied nod.
“It is a great pity that Anne was required to move to Derbyshire for the sake of her health. If she had been here, she could have learned from me how to oversee Rosings on that sad day when I am no longer able to guide her.”
“Indeed,” Mr. Collins said earnestly. “I can only imagine how hard it is for Miss de Bourgh to be separated from your benign and wise counsel. We can but pray that your estimable daughter will soon be able to return to her birthplace!”