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I fear that your mother has been very affected by the recent births of so many male children among our family and close acquaintances.

Sir William in particular is prodigiously proud of his new grandson, and so Mrs. Bennet’s visits to Lucas Lodge no longer have quite the heartening effect as in the past. To make up for this, she spends a great deal of time with her Sister Phillips, the outcome of which is, I fear, the very great volume of correspondence that you have mentioned receiving.

It appears that, bereft of married daughters to speak to but brimming with advice, your mother has become greatly enamored of the post. Perhaps you and your sisters should compile her letters in a volume and offer it to a publisher; there appears to be quite a market of silly young ladies desiring manuals of useless advice, and the royalties might repay your husband’s outlay for the postage.

However, to return to the main point, your mother was feeling unwell recently and her symptoms were severe enough that I summoned the apothecary. Mr. Jones examined her and concluded that Mrs. Bennet has some sort of cancerous growth in her abdomen. According to him, there is no cure, I’m afraid.

Your mother refuses to believe the diagnosis, and (as you have no doubt read by now) believes herself to be with child.

As if that were not enough, she appears to have convinced herself that she carries my son.

She became exceedingly angry when I attempted to argue otherwise, to the point that I was genuinely concerned for her health and had Hill administer laudanum.

I have circulated the actual state of affairs to our neighbors, but your mother continues to announce her pregnancy to all and sundry.

At this point, I feel it is kinder to allow her the fantasy. She is taking a great deal of pleasure in sewing new baby clothes and I simply cannot find it within myself to spoil her diversion. Lydia is home from school now, and she and Kitty take turns sitting with her.

Your father,

Thomas Bennet

“Good heavens,” exclaimed Elizabeth. “Will? Do you know if there is a doctor they might consult? Some sort of specialist?”

“I shall write to our physician immediately and ask for recommendations,” responded Darcy earnestly. Disregarding their public position for a moment, he wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulders and gently kissed her forehead. “Are you well, dearest?”

She smiled weakly and rested her head against his chest. “I will be. It is just so strange… I feel terribly guilty now for neglecting Mama’s letters. I gave no consideration to the possibility that any of them might hold something beyond the usual…”

Darcy rubbed her back. “You had no reason to, dearest. And she has written you a great deal over the last year.”

“But what if I hadn’t read it in time?”

“But you did, and that is the material point. I will arrange for an express rider and then write to Dr. Tolmach for a recommendation. Shall the two of you include letters for your parents? The rider can easily stop at Longbourn on his way to town.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath to steady herself and nodded gratefully to her husband.

“Yes—thank you, Fitzwilliam.” Turning to her sister, she suggested, “Jane, if you will compose a reply to Mama, I shall write to our father. I fear I have absolutely no idea what to say to her—Papa seems determined that she be allowed to maintain her delusion.”

“Yes…” Jane chewed her lip as she took up her mother’s letter to Elizabeth and began to read that.

Thinking quickly, Lizzy waited for her sister to finish reading. “Jane?” It took a few moments but Mrs. Bingley eventually looked up. “I cannot leave Pemberley just now—Georgiana’s wedding is a week away and we have guests beginning to arrive tomorrow.”

“Oh, I’d forgotten about that, but Lizzy…”

Elizabeth interrupted; “Jane, I believe that you and Bingley should go to Longbourn, as soon as you can. Tomorrow, if possible, or the day after. We will follow after the wedding.”

“Well, of course we shall go… but really Lizzy, I’m sure that there must be some mistake. Mr. Darcy’s doctor shall take one look at Mama and tell us that this all has been some sort of misunderstanding.”

Elizabeth gave her sister a long look. Throughout her girlhood, she had relied on Jane’s tendency to see the best in everyone and everything around her.

However, there were times when Lizzy genuinely worried about her sister’s resistance to admitting even the possibility of unpleasantness.

And given her father’s similar tendency to ignore anything that might cause disarray in his life, she wondered how long her mother’s illness had gone unacknowledged.

When she mentioned this to Mr. Darcy later that evening, he took his time considering the matter before answering.

“The Gardiners visited Longbourn at Easter, did they not? They would have noticed if something was wrong with your mother… and perhaps just as importantly, they would not have kept it from you.”

“Yes.” Elizabeth took a deep breath and released it, feeling a little better.

“Yes, you are absolutely right.” Suddenly she sat up in bed.

“The Gardiners… I must write to my aunt and uncle about this! And the Fitzwilliams…” she slumped back on her pillow and curled toward her husband.

“Although, given my mother’s antipathy toward Charlotte and Master Collin, I can’t recommend that they visit…

it would only upset her dreadfully,” Lizzy sighed.

“If your mother is truly ill, they will appreciate being informed by a native of Longbourn, rather than having to rely solely on rumors and gossip.”

“Oh stars, yes… they must be getting all sorts of bizarre reports from Lucas Lodge. Well, Papa always said that we all have a responsibility to provide entertainment for our neighbors.”

As a joke, it fell rather flat, but Fitzwilliam wrapped his arms around her and she was reassured that at least one person in the world comprehended her conflicted feelings toward her parents.

In the end, what should have been chaos proved remarkably easy to manage.

The Bingleys left for Longbourn two days after Mr. Bennet’s express, although Jane continued protesting that it would all turn out to be a misunderstanding even as she stepped up into the carriage.

Elizabeth was relieved to see that Charles, at least, was taking the situation seriously and had carefully taken down the information for the doctor who would be coming up from London to examine Mrs. Bennet.

Elizabeth’s letter to the Gardiners proved prescient, for indeed, they had heard nothing about the matter, as Edward later admitted to the Darcys.

“There are times when I simply cannot fathom what your father is thinking, Lizzy. That he would put off informing me, Fanny’s own brother, of her illness, until something ‘more certain’ was known, I cannot comprehend.

I can’t even tell if he believed Mr. Jones’ diagnosis or not—he didn’t summon a doctor for a second opinion, after all—so what sort of evidence was he waiting for to be more certain? ”

With so much on her mind, Elizabeth was exceptionally glad that she had accepted Lady Matlock’s offer to help organize Georgiana’s wedding.

Even if the guests were relatively few in number, it was not every day that one hosted a duke, not to mention a marquess, a bevy of barons and knights, and all their correspondingly titled spouses.

Although the party was limited to family, both the Fitzwilliams and the Somersets were prolific, and as all of Georgiana’s cousins and Jonah’s siblings chose to attend, even Pemberley began to feel remarkably full.

Young Master Bennet was much admired and petted by the ladies, while Darcy spent the afternoons leading the gentlemen on rides around the park.

The evening before Miss Georgiana Darcy was to wed Lord Jonah Somerset, they all gathered in Pemberley’s most formal dining room.

As the guests moved to take their chairs, Will looked around the table.

First, he observed his wife who was guiding the Duke of Grafton and Lord Jonah to the seats beside her, her eyes sparkling and laughter bubbling up like silver bells.

Not for the first time, he wondered what he had done to deserve her.

The Duke appeared to be enjoying himself tremendously and turned slightly to Lady Eleanor to include her in the conversation.

Darcy was glad to see that his aunt and uncle appeared to be recovering from the death of their eldest son.

The Countess still wore black, but it was now edged with white and she had seemed genuinely saddened to leave Lady Alameda and young Master Reggie behind in Essex when she and Matlock had returned to Derbyshire after Easter.

Lord Jonah caught his eye and for an instant, Darcy wondered if his future brother-in-law was winking at him.

However, a soft giggle from the young lady at Fitzwilliam’s right corrected his understanding.

For a moment, he simply watched his sister as she glowed with happiness and chatted with the Duchess while stealing looks at her fiancé.

A series of memories flashed through his mind.

George Darcy showing him how to hold the impossibly tiny baby and telling him that she would be his to protect.

The happy little girl set on her first pony, full of that heady mix of exuberance and terror.

Her huge eyes when she was brought to him for the first time in her new mourning clothes after their father died… how the black bombazine had seemed to leach all the color from her face… much as the shock over Wickham’s betrayal had done.

And the resurgence of her happy giggles and ethereal music when a certain impertinent young lady from Hertfordshire had blown into their lives like a breath of fresh spring air.

Returning to the present, Darcy observed his sister and her betrothed share a longing glance, and it reminded him so much of those he had shared with Elizabeth during their engagement that his throat tightened and he was forced to struggle manfully against the tears that threatened to well up.

Once his emotions had settled, however, Mr. Darcy stood tall and raised his glass, ready to make peace with his sister’s choice and toast to her future.

The wedding service was solemn and, although the bride never stopped crying from the moment she stepped through the door of Pemberley’s chapel on her brother’s arm, the morning sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows was more than enough to show how brilliantly happy she was.

The groom might have blushed rosily when his bride’s hand was placed in his own, but his words were just as serious and heartfelt.

The wedding breakfast had been set out in the smaller ballroom on tables decorated with flowers from both garden and hothouse.

Having completed her duty, Mrs. Annesley joined the celebration as an honored guest and found herself noticed by the Duke of Grafton himself, as well as that gentleman’s eldest son, both glad to meet a relative of the late Lady Alice.

The Countess of Matlock did not stay long at the celebration, limited as she was by the obligations of mourning her son.

However, she stood for a time in a doorway with Mrs. Reynolds, observing the happy company and thinking of the past. “This family has suffered so much grief over the years… I pray that this year marks a new era.”

“’Tis a new generation, and it looks to be a lucky one, to my eye,” replied the phlegmatic housekeeper. “It’s been good to see the Master happy, and from the looks of it, Miss Georgiana shall be just the same.”

“Lady Somerset, you mean.”

“As you say, ma’am,” replied Mrs. Reynolds. “But she’ll always be a Miss Darcy of Pemberley.”