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Pemberley

April, 1827

Elizabeth Darcy stood with her head bowed, her tear-filled eyes fixed on the newly shoveled earth beneath which lay the body of her beloved father. Could he truly be dead? It seemed impossible.

Mr. Bennet had battled severe headaches and occasional stomach troubles for some time, with the result that the Bennet patriarch and matriarch were not able to visit Pemberley for several years. Elizabeth, though thoroughly happy with her place as mistress of Pemberley, wife of Fitzwilliam Darcy, and mother of his children, missed her dear father excessively. Thus, she was delighted when Mr. Bennet’s physician gave her father reluctant approval to make the long trip north to Pemberley. Sadly, horribly, within a few days of his arrival in Derbyshire, Mr. Bennet suffered an apoplexy which rendered him unconscious. Four and twenty hours later, he was dead.

Mrs. Bennet’s essential temperament had not changed in spite of the good marriages of her daughters; she no longer feared the hedgerows, but the loss of her husband sent her into a prolonged period of depression mixed with occasional bouts of hysterics. Elizabeth, who was herself grieving bitterly the loss of her father, was quite exhausted by her mother’s frenzies. Thankfully, her sisters, their husbands and all their children had descended on Pemberley, and she now had plenty of help in caring for their still nearly incapacitated mother.

“Elizabeth,” the cherished voice of her husband said from behind her.

She did not turn around, but sensing his approach, leaned back into his strong body and relaxed into his warmth, into his strength, into his support.

“He lived a good life,” she murmured to her husband.

“He did,” Darcy agreed softly, “though that does not make his loss easier to bear. I know you will miss him greatly.”

Elizabeth sighed and moved her hands to clasp his own, which were now wrapped around her waist, “I have long sorrowed that you lost your own father when you were little more than twenty years of age, Fitzwilliam, but I have a new appreciation for the difficulty of it all. I am six and thirty and feel far too young to be orphaned.”

He kissed her on the neck and they stood in the silence of the Darcy family cemetery. It was a chilly day, and the indifferent wind seemed to sweep through her pelisse. If not for Darcy’s warm body, she would be shivering.

“We should return to Pemberley,” she said finally. “My sisters will be gathering in the next hour.”

He held out his arm, she took it, and they began walking in the direction of Pemberley.

“I am glad he is buried here at Pemberley. I know his spirit is with God on High, but it will be comforting to go to his grave site on occasion.”

“As you know, I still visit my parents’ graves from time to time. It helps to steady me when life seems difficult, to go to a quiet place and remember my father and mother’s determination to be good stewards of this land and her people. ”

“I believe that I am mourning the loss of the Collins family as well,” Elizabeth mused a moment later. “Not to death, of course, but they will be so far away. We will miss them.”

“We will, though Longbourn is little more than twenty miles from London. We will be able to see them often during our visits to Town.”

“True,” his wife agreed. “It will also be more convenient for Mr. Collins to be nearer to his publishers in London, and I am confident that Lydia and Nathaniel can oversee the Enclave appropriately.”

“Certainly. Neither is as brilliant as Mr. Collins, but both are intelligent and gifted scientists in their own right, and Nathaniel is an excellent administrator.”

“Did you ever imagine that a scientific village would spring up at Pemberley?” Elizabeth inquired, nestling closer to her husband. They had entered the main street of the Enclave now, which was lined with workshops and laboratories. They could hear the sound of bellows in the blacksmith’s quarters, and saw several young women through the window of the fabric shop working on textiles.

“Not in my wildest dreams. My dear, I see Mr. Collins over there near the Lady Anne .”

“Poor Mr. Collins. He is going to miss the locomotive quite dreadfully, I fear.”

The master and mistress of Pemberley altered their course to speak with Mr. Collins, but as they approached, the man dropped onto the ground into a prone position. A moment later, Nathaniel Stanton, who had been concealed behind the locomotive, stepped into view and also lowered himself to the dirt.

Elizabeth and Darcy exchanged amused glances and came closer. Now they were able to see that both men were holding magnifying glasses and peering ferociously at the steel rails upon which the train ran.

“Definitely there is cracking!” Mr. Collins exclaimed. “It is most confusing since only this section of the railway is displaying damage.”

“I assume it is some mistake in the processing of this particular steel,” Nathaniel commented. “You remember, of course, that the ten rails in question were obtained from a different source than the others.”

“You will need to investigate the matter,” his mentor replied, staggering with some difficulty to an upright position. “Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy.”

Nathaniel, startled, rolled more gracefully to his feet and smiled at his brother and sister by marriage, “I apologize for not greeting you both; I did not realize you were here.”

“You were obviously busy examining ...,” Elizabeth began.

“Cracking of the metal on these rails,” Collins finished grimly. “It will not be possible to safely run the locomotive on this set of tracks until these rails have been replaced.”

“I do urge safety,” Darcy replied, striving to keep his voice calm. “I have no desire for an explosion or the like.”

“It would probably not explode,” Mr. Collins said in a reassuring tone. “It would merely run off the rails and crash into a building.”

“Which would also not be a good thing,” Nathaniel Stanton declared hastily. “But do not fear, Darcy, we will fix it up better than new. Mr. Collins, am I correct that you need to return to Pemberley?”

“Oh yes, I do! Thank you.”

“And I must come as well,” Elizabeth agreed. “My sisters should all be in the west sitting room soon.”

***

Elizabeth sat down on a couch next to Jane and gazed around with wet eyes. Her grief stemmed from the recent loss of her father, but these were partially happy tears as well. For the first time in many years, all the former Bennet sisters were in one place.

Jane, still the fairest of them all, sat near the window gazing out at the rowdy clan of children racing to and fro on the lawn outside. Five of the children were Bingleys, three red-haired sons like their father, two blonde daughters like their mother. Most of the children had inherited their parents’ placid personality except for Elizabeth Bingley, who, like her namesake aunt, was a madcap of a child with a penchant for climbing trees and falling into streams.

Mary still lived contentedly at nearby Bastow Hall and had grown happily plump with four pregnancies and five living children. Her last pregnancy had been a set of boy and girl twins. A convivial marriage and the birth of children had smoothed the sharper edges of her character. She served her family and the people of Bastow with diligence, but she was able to rest, laugh, and enjoy life.

Kitty, now the Marchioness of Salisbury after the death of her husband’s father, had been blessed with two sons and was halfway through her third pregnancy. She had settled joyfully into her position as wife and mother and mistress of the Salisbury estate in Wiltshire. Given the responsibilities of her station, she had less time for drawing; nevertheless, she had carved out sufficient hours to draw pictures for Mr. Collins’s latest book on steam power.

Lydia was the proud mother of one son and two daughters. The responsibilities of overseeing her family and home required significant attention, but she still found time to work side by side with her husband on scientific endeavors with a special focus on ballooning, which continued to be one of her passions.

How very blessed they all were.

“Thank you for coming,” Charlotte Collins said as she and Mr. Collins entered the room. The new mistress of Longbourn cast a slightly nervous look outside the windows and then relaxed at the sight. Numerous servants were overseeing the horde of children running and playing, with Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy on hand to provide additional direction as needed.

All murmured their welcome as Mr. and Mrs. Collins took their places on a padded loveseat near the door.

“We wished to say, first of all, that we are very grieved over the loss of Mr. Bennet,” Charlotte began. “I know that his death was unexpected and thus must be especially heartrending to you all.”

There were nods and soft sighs and Lydia spoke up, “It is indeed a very sad thing, but we are grateful that he died peacefully. I speak for all of us when I say that we are thankful that you will be the new master and mistress of Longbourn. We know you will take good care of the people and the land.”

The couple exchanged uneasy glances and Charlotte leaned forward slightly, “That is why we wished to meet with you. We have an unusual plan for Longbourn, and we wanted you to hear of it from our own lips.”

The other ladies glanced at one another and Kitty smiled, “I suppose we could only expect something remarkable from Mr. Collins.”

“In actuality, this idea is my dear wife’s,” the man responded affectionately, “though I approve entirely.”

Mrs. Collins blushed slightly but spoke steadily, “I believe you are all aware of the former Miss Anne de Bourgh’s dreadful experience at Rosings a few years ago when the rector, Gabriel Ware, attacked her.”

There were creased brows and puzzled frowns at this announcement, but all the other women nodded.

“Our family spent several months at Hunsford assisting the current Mr. and Mrs. Alexander Martyn in finding a new parson. We also ministered to the needs of those who had been used and abused by Mr. Ware. The most grievous sin was that he seduced several of the local women, including two of the servants at Rosings.”

“My husband told me of that,” Mary said solemnly. “It is quite dreadful that someone calling himself a ‘man of God’ would do such a thing.”

“Indeed,” Charlotte continued, shaking her head. “Mr. Collins and I ministered and assisted those women, including the two who fell pregnant with Ware’s children. Naturally, the emotional and social repercussions were hard on all of them.”

Again, there was solemn nodding at this and a soft sigh from Lydia.

“This brings us to the matter at hand today,” Charlotte explained. “Mr. Collins and I intend to transform Longbourn into a place of safety and training for young women who have lost their virtue, with a particular focus on those who are pregnant with bastard children.”

This provoked a gasp of astonishment and Elizabeth looked with concern at Mary, who was, even now, the most straight laced of the sisters.

Mary was indeed appalled, “You plan to bring that kind of girl into Longbourn? Surely not, Charlotte! Those women should know better than to allow ...”

Charlotte’s usually placid expression shifted to one akin to a protective tigress, “My dear Mary, you must realize that a great many such girls had no choice.”

There was a collective shudder from the former Bennet sisters. It was true enough that many an immoral man had forced himself on a girl, and it was largely the woman who reaped the dreadful repercussions.

“Yes,” Mary admitted. “Yes, I am quite aware. But what of the others, Charlotte? A woman ought never to permit a man such liberties without the blessing of holy matrimony, but Mr. Ware’s lovers were not forced, were they?”

“They were not,” Charlotte acknowledged, “but keep in mind that Ware was their religious superior, and he also promised every one of them marriage. Yes, they should have known better, but he was also, I understand, a handsome man ...”

At this point, Lydia chimed in unexpectedly, “I fear very much that I would have done such a thing when I was but fifteen.”

Mary stared at her in wide-eyed horror, “Surely not!”

Lydia sighed and nodded, “My dear Mary, you remember how foolish I was at that age, how I flirted and ran after officers. If a handsome militia officer promised me marriage, I would likely have been quite wicked and stupid enough to give up my virtue.”

Jane spoke now, her expression troubled, “I find the scheme a noble one, but I fear the local society at Meryton will be shocked. You might find yourself ...”

“Ostracized?” Charlotte inquired in a steely tone. “We have considered it, but I have felt pressed upon by the Lord Himself to do this work, and we must obey His commands.”

“In any case,” Mr. Collins said cheerfully, “it will not be the only time we shock them. I have quite a few schemes in mind which will confuse and no doubt distress the inhabitants of Meryton, but I do not care. We are considering purchasing Netherfield Hall and transforming the estate into a subsidiary scientific establishment to the Enclave here at Pemberley. I also have plans to publish a series of treatises on idiotic medical practices, and Charlotte plans to ...”

Elizabeth chuckled softly to herself and sat back, content to let the words wash over her. Yes, it was inevitable. Meryton’s inhabitants would soon find themselves stunned, startled, and discombobulated by the enigmatic Mr. Collins.