Page 44

Elizabeth’s Sitting Room

Pemberley

5th October, 1831

Paper and pen, ink and sharpener, were spread out across Elizabeth’s intricately carved maple desk. The lady intending to use them sat with her chin propped in one slightly curled hand, her eyes fixed on the view beyond of the window. The recent sunrise that warmed the room and touched the maple wood with a golden glow had painted the sky in mauve and orange and pale yellow and bright blue, streaked with gleams of brightest gold where the new sun caught on thin clouds.

The sky was truly glorious, but Elizabeth had been gazing at it for some minutes, and now she let her eyes wander down to the world waking up below her. A wildfire blend of oranges and yellows and scarlets blazed from the trees below, punctuated by the occasional stately dark evergreen. As she watched, a deer appeared beyond a fence for a moment before quietly walking away.

For twenty years, Elizabeth had sat at this window admiring her home. Through spring flowers and summer verdancy, autumn blazes and blankets of shimmering white, Pemberley's beauty remained unabated. It was not always so peaceful and still, certainly, since during the day, the halls of the house rang with young voices and the sounds of servants busy about their tasks, while the grounds would bustle with gardeners and grooms and farmers as they completed their work.

For now, all was serene and calm, but today of all days, that would not last. She had best write her letter before her opportunity vanished with the morning mists.

She lowered her head and adjusted the position of a wax candle so that the light better illuminated the paper.

Dear Charlotte,

I am so very pleased that Mr. Collins has entirely recovered from the ague. What a relief for you all! It is good that your Nicholas is such a steady young man. I am certain he did a wonderful job looking after Longbourn while Mr. Collins was ill.

Here at Pemberley, the next days will be full of arrivals from the extended family. Yes, every one of my sisters, and their husbands, and their children, will be present. In addition, we will be hosting Sir Ian and Lady Barclay and their children, and my sister Lady Georgiana Coleridge and her family, my uncle and aunt Gardiner and their family, and the Matlocks as well!

It is the first time in five years that all of us sisters have been together, and of course, when last we gathered, it was to mourn our father. It is hard for me to believe that it has been so long since Father died, but time flies by.

I am especially grateful that Jane and Charles were able to come. Charles’s sister Caroline’s husband, Mr. Caldwell, was quite ill a few weeks ago, and there was great concern he would not survive, but he has turned the corner and is now mending. Caroline and the Hursts seem to have settled moderately happily in Yorkshire – I have heard that Caroline has not been to London in almost two decades. I know Charles would have felt obligated to attend a funeral, but that is not necessary. By the by, Caroline and Louisa each have two children.

Kitty and Lydia have separately written that you and Mr. Collins are doing a marvelous job as mistress and master of Longbourn and that the tenants prefer your family to ours. That does not distress me in the least, I assure you. I am well aware that my father, for all his good qualities, was a lazy master of the estate. I suspect it was partly because he would not pass Longbourn onto his own children, but only partly. He was an indolent gentleman, my father, and I am clear-eyed enough to see it.

In any case, Longbourn is now in excellent hands, and you should be proud of all that you have accomplished.

Yes, our oldest, Amelia, will be launching into society next Season. I am, of course, proud of her. She is a lovely young lady, and far more accomplished on the pianoforte and harp than her mother ever was!

But the Season means she may fall in love and marry, and I do not quite feel ready for my eldest child to fly from the nest.

I suppose that is an important part of being a mother. I must be willing to let my children go.

In any case, we will have one large, rousing party here at Pemberley with all my children and all my sisters and their families and with dear Fitzwilliam, of course, and I am thrilled at that.

You asked about my mother. She is doing moderately well, though is growing a bit forgetful. Jane and I have agreed that so long as she does not protest, she will live here at Pemberley. She seems to struggle with transitions from one house to another and …

The door opened, interrupting her, and she turned her head and smiled at the sight of her beloved husband.

Wrinkles fanned around his eyes, and his dark hair was now streaked with gray, the silver at his temples lending him a distinguished air and deepening his natural gravitas. But his shoulders were as straight as ever, and no stoop bowed his proud back. He was every bit as handsome still as he was the day she married him, and Elizabeth gazed at him in adoration. The years had not dulled their affection for one another anymore than they had dimmed his eye, and his wisdom had only increased with his age. Pemberley flourished beneath his masterful hand, and his family as well.

“Good morning,” she said, rising and walking over to kiss him. “I am almost finished writing Charlotte Collins, and then I will be downstairs. I expect some of our guests will appear in the next few hours.”

“The Bingleys just arrived,” Darcy said with a grin.

Elizabeth looked at the clock and shook her head in wonder. “At this hour? I do not mind, of course, but they must have left very early indeed.”

“It seems that the younger children, full of excitement over spending time with our brood, woke Bingley and Jane up several hours early. The decision was made to enter the carriages at the first crack of dawn, and it does not take long to travel twenty miles, after all.”

Elizabeth laughed and said, “I will finish up my letter and be down shortly.”

***

Conservatory

Pemberley

Two Days Later

The air was fragrant with a delicate citrus scent, and a fountain burbled and splashed somewhere down the white gravel path, just out of sight of the table and chairs. Closer to hand, a sweet aroma drifted on warm currents of air, wafting from the teapot, the cups it had filled, and the trays of baked goods set around it. Tarts, tiny cheesecakes, and scones sat piled in neat pyramids, awaiting hungry guests.

Rosemary Darcy, who, at fourteen, still felt the allure of such sweets strongly, was eyeing the plates hungrily. She caught her mother's watchful eye and took a demure sip of tea, and Elizabeth smiled faintly. Beside them, Amelia chatted cordially with her grandmother, their saucers in their laps and their cups in their hands.

Elizabeth looked around the conservatory contentedly. The Pemberley conservatory was a sizeable one, providing oranges, lemons, grapefruit, and other luscious warm-growing fruits. It was a pleasant place to be year round, the warmth very welcome in winter, the exotic foliage and flowers providing a taste of adventure in summer. Through the glass panels of the wall, she could see the short, spiky bushes of the pinery.

Pemberley dinner parties, rare as they were, often had a pineapple centerpiece. The evening would usually end with sliced pineapple for everyone to enjoy. In Town, Elizabeth had attended many a dinner and ball where a pineapple sat proudly in the center of the table, sometimes half rotted. It was a terrible waste, to Elizabeth's practical mind. Pineapples were far too delicious to waste simply as perpetual decorations.

She took a sip of her tea, enjoying the flavor, and took a moment to be grateful that the family was blessed to have expansive greenhouses in good working order, and the fruits of them. Soon, they would be sharing those fruits, for her female relations would be arriving soon.

“I daresay Charlotte Collins does her best,” Mrs. Bennet remarked, drawing Elizabeth’s attention, “but she never did know how to set a really good table. Of course, that was doubtless because of her upbringing. Lady Lucas only attained her title after her husband made a speech to the King, you know. She was always very frugal, more than was appropriate for a true lady.”

“The meals at Longbourn were marvelous,” Amelia said in a soothing voice. “I particularly liked the jam roly-poly.”

“You very much did, my darling, just like your mother,” Mrs. Bennet said, turning a fond look on her eldest granddaughter. “Lizzy, do you remember how much you always loved roly-polys?”

“I do,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “They were my second favorite treat after lemon tarts.”

The door between the conservatory, and the main building opened at this moment and Elizabeth beamed as all her sisters and older nieces and more distant relations entered the room in a large, straggling group, and, after a few greetings, the ladies set upon the food like a pack of delicately ravenous dogs.

The careful stacks of pastries were rapidly decimated, the generous teapot sloshing with only the dregs once all cups were finally filled. The conservatory, so recently peaceful with the sound of water in the fountains and light conversation, was now full of feminine voices chattering and laughing, along with the swishing sound of silks and muslins and cotton lawns. Though at least two of the attendees had conservatories equal to Pemberley's, the tone was universally one of admiration, especially from the youngest ladies present.

Elizabeth sank back into her chair, watching the throng of her family with a full heart. Jane, proud mother of five, stood beside her only daughter beneath an orange tree. Though her back was as straight as ever, pale gray streaked through her blonde coiffure, and delicate wrinkles fanned around clear blue eyes. She was still beautiful, and her daughter had inherited her looks.

A laugh drew Elizabeth's attention to the former youngest Miss Bennet. Lydia's pretty face was rounder than it had been at Longbourn, which after eight children was perhaps not surprising, but the vivacity and easy laugh of her youth clung to her still. Lucas Lodge was filled with the rollicking exuberance of their expansive family, when they were not out visiting one of several friends. The Lucases were frequently visitors to Longbourn, for instance, where Charlotte Collins maintained a close friendship with the former Bennets.

Netherfield Hall was another common destination. Kitty no longer let herself be led by Lydia, but far from souring their childhood friendship, it had only deepened and strengthened it. Lydia had a healthy respect for her sister's thoughts and abilities, and Kitty was happier having developed her own tastes and skills. She had proven herself an able mistress of the estate, her husband a kindly and skillful master, and they stewarded their land and tenants well while proving devoted parents to their four children.

They were not the only ones. Mary Armstrong, living at Rosings and ably assisting her husband, the steward, glowed with joy and contentment. They had been blessed with three children, and Mary was visibly pleased that her daughter had inherited the Bennet handsomeness.

The Armstrongs were close friends with the Barclays. Lady Anne Barclay depended on her steward and his wife to help her capably manage her sprawling estate, and the two Misses Barclay were nearly inseparable from Mary’s daughter. Even now, the three of them were clustered together, speaking at excited length with fourteen-year-old Miss Coleridge, with their mothers nearby. Georgiana laughed at some comment of Anne's, laying a gloved hand on her cousin's arm, her face relaxed and happy. Anne, too, was laughing, delighted at Georgiana's reaction.

Twelve-year-old Agnes Gardiner, the youngest of the Gardiner children, sat at the table with her mother, happily drinking her tea. Four of her nieces and nephews, the children of the eldest two Gardiner daughters, along with many other children, were inside the great house, filling the nursery with the cacophony of their joy. Elizabeth chuckled as she thought of the veritable army of nursemaids currently handling their excited charges .

Pemberley was a large house, with vast echoing hallways and corridors and rooms. Their own family filled those spaces with laughter, but there was always more space to be filled. Now, the house was full to bursting with beloved family and friends, and Elizabeth could not be happier.

“I must say, Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet said, picking up a piece of pineapple and staring at it greedily, “you did very well indeed capturing Mr. Darcy. Very well indeed.”

“Thank you, Mamma,” Elizabeth said with twinkling eyes. “I think so as well.”

***

East Woods

Pemberley

The parkland rang with masculine voices calling to one another, and the yelps of excited pointers, and occasionally the sharp report of a shot. Braces of pheasant swung from strong hands. Fitzwilliam Darcy, master of Pemberley, looked around in pleasure. Most of the men whose company he most enjoyed were present – not only Charles Bingley and Richard Fitzwilliam, but all his many brothers by marriage, and several of their sons. His two eldest boys were out hunting with the party today and making a fine showing.

He breathed deeply, filling his lungs with the heady musk of fallen leaf litter and moist earth and bird. A spaniel rushed past his knees, sniffing the air eagerly. Darcy watched its progress for a few seconds before lifting his gaze to the trees around them. The oaks and maples and sycamores were wearing their autumn foliage, resplendent in oranges and golds and scarlets.

The dog surged past him again, barking madly, and a handsome cock-pheasant flushed, calling loudly. Anthony, already looking like a man at only sixteen, raised his rifle to his shoulder and sighted hastily down the barrel. A sharp crack and the pheasant plummeted to the brush below.

“An excellent shot, Anthony,” Darcy said approvingly, and Anthony smiled at his father proudly as one of the Pemberley spaniels rushed forward to collect the bird, whereupon it hurried back to drop the pheasant at the young man’s feet.

Another shot rang out, drawing Darcy’s attention, and he looked upward in time to watch another bird plummet from the air .

“That one is mine, Father!” his next younger son, Gregory, cried out, and Darcy strode forward a few yards to pat his son on the shoulder.

“Well done, my boy,” he said genuinely, and Gregory grinned.

“Is that enough, do you suppose, Darcy?” Bingley asked, wandering a bit closer with his eldest son at his side. “I would not wish to denude your woods of pheasants.”

Darcy glanced around, counting the braces of pheasants already shot, and said, “We have plenty of birds in these woods, but perhaps this is enough for today. It would be a pity if we shot so many that they spoiled before they can be eaten.”

“I assure you that will not happen,” the Earl of Matlock said with a chuckle. “I could eat pheasant morning, noon, and night!”

“I promise we will return for more when we run out, Richard,” Darcy said with a good-natured smile.

With that, the gentlemen collected themselves and their birds, and the spaniels were called to heel, and the party began marching back toward Pemberley.

Twenty years previously, Darcy mused, he would have been anxious at having so many friends and relations at Pemberley. Back then, he had found large parties overwhelming. Now, with his beloved Elizabeth managing the house itself, with her bright and cheerful and supportive presence, he was very pleased to be with his brothers by marriage, and cousins, and nephews, and, most of all, sons.

His two older boys had run on ahead and he watched them fondly, with Anthony speaking encouragingly to Gregory about the hunt. Anthony, as the eldest son of the six Darcy children, took his role as heir seriously, and displayed a most gratifying concern about the lives of his three sisters and two brothers, including the youngest child, Allen, who was but three years of age.

It was all due to Elizabeth, of course. Not only had she borne his six children, she had been a devoted and committed mother to them, and there was a joy and peace and happiness and liveliness in Pemberley which had been missing for many years.

***

Pemberley

Afternoon

Three Days Late r

White gravel crunched beneath dozens of feet, the grinding of the pebbles, and the merry voice of the trout stream nearby, overpowered by happy voices.

Elizabeth walked contentedly arm in arm with her husband, thoroughly enjoying the day. Sunshine warmed their shoulders, and a pleasant breeze cooled their faces and ruffled their hair. Her sisters, and brothers by marriage, and Georgiana arm in arm with Sir Ian and all their children old and strong enough to keep up were tromping along on a brisk walk, merry voices raised in laughter and eager conversation. Only a few faces were missing; Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, no longer young, had opted to remain behind in the abruptly quiet house with Mrs. Bennet, who was also not up to long and energetic rambles. They would stay and talk and drink tea and greet the walking-party upon their return.

“And all of this is because of a locked door,” Elizabeth said aloud, and Darcy turned an amused look on her and said, “I hope that we would have come together anyway, as I had already admired and loved you.”

Elizabeth tilted her head thoughtfully and said, “I was rather foolish back then and have no confidence that I would have given up my prejudice toward you, but perhaps … perhaps we were always meant to be together. ”

“I believe so,” Darcy said and stopped to boldly kiss her on the lips, right in the middle of the path.

“I love you,” Elizabeth said when they parted.

“I love you too, my darling, precious Elizabeth.”

The End

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