Epilogue 2 #3
She might have survived on her pride alone after her husband’s sudden death from an apoplexy, had she not two daughters to provide for as well.
So she turned to her brother and sister-in-law and threw herself and her girls on their mercy, miserably aware that she could not care for her own family.
Charles and Jane had welcomed Caroline and the girls without compunction, making room for them in their home and budget with joy.
As Charles had told his wife privately, he was far happier supporting Caroline and the girls from his own income, with no expense grudged, than to know that they were suffering at Montrose’s hands. Jane had heartily agreed.
“…not sure that I will really be welcome,” Caroline said in a worried tone, and Jane shook her head to clear it.
“I am certain that Lizzy will be very happy to have you,” Lydia said, turning to stare at Jane.
“I am sorry, I was woolgathering. What were you saying?” Jane asked.
“Caroline is worried that she will not be welcome at Pemberley since she is a more distant relation, but that is stupid,” Lydia declared.
Jane chuckled and turned to Caroline. “My dear sister, I promise that you are as welcome at Pemberley as you are here at Grenfell. We would all miss you very much if you decided to stay here, and I am positive your daughters would be pleased to spend time with their cousins.”
Caroline smiled gratefully and said, “Thank you for your reassurance. I am certain we will have a very pleasant time.”
***
Elizabeth’s Bedchamber
Pemberley
Dawn
Three Days Later
Elizabeth Darcy moved a candle to better light her desk, dipped her pen in ink, and began scribbling away on a piece of foolscap paper.
The upcoming fortnight would be wonderful, but there were many details to consider with so many families descending on Pemberley, and she still had a few more lists to complete.
The door that led to her sitting room opened, and she turned a puzzled brow toward it, only to set down her pen and stand up.
“Fitzwilliam, you are up early!” she said.
“As are you, darling,” her husband said, stepping into the light from the candle. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”
“I slept well,” she replied, “but then woke up a few minutes ago thinking about how many children will be in the house, and then I wondered how many there were and could not get back to sleep, so…”
She trailed off and gestured toward the paper lying on her little desk. Fitzwilliam walked over, picked it up, and turned it to face the candlelight.
“Our four children, and the Bingleys’ four, and Kitty’s two, and Lydia’s one, and Georgiana’s three, and Anne’s two, and Caroline’s two makes…”
“Eighteen,” Elizabeth replied with a chuckle. “It will be very loud here.”
He put the paper down and pulled her into his arms. “It will be loud and wonderful.”
“Indeed, yes,” Elizabeth agreed, nestling up against his broad chest.
Looking back, twelve years did not seem all that long.
Yet so much had happened in that time that, in some ways, it felt like an entire lifetime.
Hers was a good life, full of blessings.
Four children, healthy and happy and full of vigorous life.
Having grown up with sisters herself, Elizabeth had been slightly stunned at the sheer amount of energy contained in the tiny bodies of her young sons.
Her husband had assured her that it was entirely normal, and the nursemaids had proven themselves more than equal to them.
Their daughter, always eager to keep up with her brothers, reminded Elizabeth vividly of her own childhood.
All the children enjoyed having a multitude of cousins nearby, and Elizabeth delighted in having most of her sisters close.
Lydia alone did not live within a day’s journey of Pemberley, but the rest of the former Bennet girls and Georgiana were settled within fifty miles of the estate.
Mary was closest, installed snugly in the Kympton parsonage with her husband, the Reverend Frederick Stowe.
Georgiana and Kitty were a bit further away, the mistresses of adjoining estates in Staffordshire.
Their friendship had flourished with their proximity and their status as sisters-in-law twice over, and their husbands retained the closeness of their childhood.
Elizabeth’s greatest joy was that the Bingleys had, five years previously, given up Netherfield and purchased a thriving estate near Pemberley.
With both Mr. and Mrs. Bennet having passed on, there had been no real reason for Jane to stay in the locale of Longbourn.
William Collins was master there now, and while the man himself was not particularly sensible, he had chosen an intelligent wife named Priscilla, who, according to the former Charlotte Lucas, managed home and estate far more wisely than Mrs. Bennet ever had.
Elizabeth and Darcy had hailed with great delight the prospect of the Bingleys dwelling close by, and after touring a few estates, the Bingleys had settled on Grenfell. It was a thoroughly satisfactory situation for all of them.
Yes, Elizabeth had much for which to be grateful in her life. The next two weeks would be busy and delightful, with all the sisters and their families gathered together under one roof, rejoicing and celebrating in one another’s company, with beloved husbands and children.
“It will be fabulous,” she agreed.
***
Pemberley
11 O’clock in the Morning
Five Days Later
Summer had been heavenly thus far, with sunny days interspersed with the occasional rainstorm, so necessary for the crops to thrive. Today, the sky was a deep, sun-baked blue, with sporadic white puffy clouds offering no threat of rain.
The lawn of Pemberley was dotted with adults and children who had alike succumbed to the invitation of the balmy summer day.
Elizabeth strolled along the path down to the trout stream on the arm of her husband, holding a delicate parasol in her other hand.
She had never much worried about needing a sunshade, as the more fashionable ladies were wont to do.
She had not minded the kiss of the sun on her complexion.
Occasionally, however, on days such as today, she was more comfortable having something to block the direct heat.
For that purpose, she kept a single parasol of linen and lace with a modish fringe.
She found herself overheating easily of late.
Part of that, of course, was because it was July.
Still, Elizabeth had been comfortable in July in the past. Her current suffering reminded her more of other, more particular times, when she had been far more susceptible to not only the sun but even to a well-built fire.
It was too early yet to be certain, and she would wait a week or two more before confiding in her Fitzwilliam, but she thought that another Darcy child was likely on the way.
Her courses were only a week late so far, which was not conclusive.
She would wait patiently and quietly before sharing the good news.