Epilogue 3
Carnelian House
Emerald Island
Nine O’clock in the Morning
Lady Mary Wintersmith finished nursing her infant daughter, lifted the babe to her shoulder, and patted her back gently. The child burped obligingly, settled her bald head on her mother’s shoulder, and lifted one tiny finger to her mouth to suck on.
Mary could not help the tears of joy at the feeling of Baby Sarah’s warm little body against her own. Her marriage to her dear Sir Andrew had been a blessed one, but it had been a source of grief to both of them when Mary had not conceived for the first eight years of their marriage.
Then had come the glorious pregnancy of their little girl, and while Mary would never lose her love of astronomy, she knew that her love for her daughter far exceeded her affection for anything in the distant heavens.
“Shall I take her, Madame?” a soft voice inquired, and Mary turned to Polly, her nursemaid, who was standing in the doorway where Sarah’s cot awaited.
“Yes, please,” she replied with a smile and handed the baby over, though not without a little reluctance.
She made her way out of the second-floor room, into the corridor, and then down the stairs where she found her husband waiting.
“Andrew,” she said, smiling at him.
“Mary,” he replied, and they shared a kiss before he took her hand and guided her toward the dining room.
Four gentlemen were already in the room, and when the couple entered, all rose and bowed.
“Good morning, Sir Andrew, Lady Wintersmith,” Mr. Cranston, a tall young man of some five and twenty summers, said. “I hope you are well?”
“Very well, thank you,” Mary said with a smile. Her pregnancy had not been an easy one, and Baby Sarah’s needs made it impossible for her to spend nights staring at the skies, but she did not mind a great deal.
She still loved astronomy, but it was not the same without Sir Thomas beside her.
He had been gone for a few years now, God rest his soul, but the grief still hit her afresh sometimes, especially late at night when she peered through a telescope.
Mary had been close to her father, closer than any of his other daughters had been.
She had shared his fascination and love for the stars and planets and moons ever since that day when she was twelve years old, the night when he had first taken her out, bundled against the evening chill, and told her to look through the telescope.
One day, Mary knew she would be able to look at the heavens without that pain and loss, but only in fond remembrance and honor of his memory.
At least she had her husband, who had been her stalwart comfort throughout her grief, and now, she had her precious baby daughter.
It had been Sir Andrew who had thought first of Emerald Island, wondering silently to himself and only later aloud to his wife whether Elizabeth would permit them to continue pursuing their scientific studies there.
She had, of course. They had all gathered at Longbourn after the funeral, sitting together in the drawing room for the last time before the Collinses moved in, a somber group in black, some stiff-faced in their grief and some in more or less noisy tears.
Comfort had been offered to the distraught widow and bereaved daughters, and before the Wintersmiths had departed, Elizabeth and her husband had pulled them aside.
Emerald Island would remain dedicated to its current purpose, Elizabeth had assured her sister and Sir Andrew.
All of Sir Thomas’s telescopes and balloons and hydrogen tanks would descend to Mary, who was free and welcome to leave them right where they were and avail herself of them at any time.
It was a generous offer, and one which the Wintersmiths gladly accepted. Thornfield, Sir Andrew’s estate, lay but a mere ten miles from Emerald Island, and the Wintersmith carriage was an extremely common sight along the road between the estate and the island.
During the summer months, when the inland heat became sweltering, Carnelian House was opened, offering shelter and refreshing sea breezes to one family or another.
Right now, it was home to the Wintersmiths and several guests, and Mary had directed the servants to open all the windows on the ground floor.
The lace curtains were fluttering in the wind, and Mary tilted her face gratefully into the wind.
“A boat suspended by hydrogen balloons?” Mr. Cranston demanded suddenly, drawing Mary’s attention.
“But yes!” Mr. Quill, an enthusiastic young man of some twenty years of age, replied, “If we could determine how to steer it, we could have it float through the air across the waters when the isthmus is covered during high tide!”
“But that would not work,” cried another of the young men, and Mary lifted a cup of tea to her lips as her gaze met that of her beloved husband.
Her life as an astronomer must necessarily be different now that she had birthed a child, but she was surrounded by fellow scientific enthusiasts, while also being blessed with a wonderful husband and darling infant.
She could not ask God for anything more.
***
Drawing Room
Netherfield Park
Noon
“Would you care for some lemonade, Caroline?” Jane Bingley asked.
Lady Caroline Rivenhall smiled and said, “Yes, very much, thank you, Jane.”
“Mamma, Charlotte?” Jane asked, turning her attention to the other two ladies in the room.
“Thank you, yes,” Charlotte Collins said, and Lady Bennet nodded.
The waiting maid departed, and Jane turned to Charlotte and said, “Before I forget, thank you for allowing Mr. Bramstoke to spend the entire week here at Netherfield. With our steward ill, we truly need the assistance.”
“It is not a problem, of course, but how is Mr. Dryden?” Charlotte asked in concern.
“He is recovering very well,” Jane replied.
“Charles tells me that he is champing at the bit to return to his duties, but Mr. Jones has ordered that he stay in his cottage for at least another couple of days. It was a bad case of mumps, and we all want to be certain that he does not spread it to the children.”
“Imagine having mumps at his age!” Lady Bennet said with a shake of her head.
“Most people have mumps as children,” Mrs. Collins agreed, “and I would have been inclined to deliberately expose our boys to Mr. Dryden so that we could get through the mumps now instead of later, except that our Esther is so young.”
Jane nodded and said, “I had very similar thoughts, Charlotte. I am confident our twins and the girls would manage mumps well enough, but with little Thomas not yet one-year-old, it seemed unwise to bring mumps into the house.”
“I am glad you did not,” Lady Rivenhall said in a low voice, and Jane turned a sympathetic look on her sister-in-law.
The former Caroline Bingley had been nearly on the shelf when she had married Lord Rivenhall, baron of an encumbered estate in Leicestershire.
The marriage had not been a happy one, as Lord Rivenhall had been far more interested in hunting and gambling than his wife.
The previous November, the baron had pitched off his horse during a hunt and had broken his neck, leaving behind a pregnant widow and a young daughter.
The door opened to reveal the maid with four icy glasses of lemonade, which were quickly distributed.
Jane, lifting the cool glass to her lips, kept an anxious eye on her sister-in-law, whose pregnancy had not been an easy one.
Everyone hoped that Caroline would bear a son to inherit the Rivenhall estate, which would go to a cousin if the child was a girl.
At least, Jane mused, Mr. Darcy and her beloved Charles had ensured that half of Caroline’s money had been tied up securely in the marriage settlements so that the baron was not able to gamble all of it away. Caroline would never want for food or shelter.
The door opened at this juncture, and Charles stepped in with a smile on his lips.
“Good morning, Mrs. Collins, Lady Bennet, Caroline,” he said and then turned a fond look on his wife. “Jane, my dear, the twins and I are going to ride to Meryton to pick up two books at the bookstore. Are there any errands I can run for you?”
“Thank you, but I think I am well. Mamma, is there anything you need?”
“Oh, yes!” the oldest woman said, turning to look at the son-in-law who had so graciously housed her when Sir Thomas had died.
“Is it possible that you could stop by the butcher and order some beef roast? Jane, my dear, I was speaking to Lady Rivenhall only last night, and she said she would enjoy some good hearty beef soup.”
Jane cast a questioning look on her sister-in-law, who said, “Beef soup does sound very good, but if it is not convenient…”
“It is very convenient,” Charles said immediately. “Jane, might I speak to you for a moment?”
“Of course,” Jane replied, setting her lemonade on a handy table and stepping out of the room. She could trust Charlotte Collins to keep the conversation going, and Caroline, subdued by a difficult marriage and her pregnancy, did not display any of the conceit that had marked her so many years ago.
The pair stepped into the hall and Charles said as soon as the door was closed, “I am a trifle worried about Caroline, my dear. I know she thinks it will still be at least another week, but if it is not … well, I would feel better if the accoucheur was in residence until the baby arrives.”
“Of course,” Jane replied instantly. “I think that would be very wise, Charles. I can write a letter to Mr. Peters asking that he journey from Town as soon as possible.”
“Far better you than me,” Charles replied and then added ruefully. “I fear that in spite of all my efforts, my letters are still apt to bewilder their recipients. Thank you, my dear, for taking such good care of my sister.”
“It is my pleasure,” she replied sincerely and was not surprised when her husband drew her into a convenient alcove and bestowed a long kiss on her lips.