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When Elizabeth paused in her description of the wedding breakfast and paused in order to take a sip of wine, it was Mr. Bingley who next gained the company’s attention.

“Though it is a bit early to make an announcement, Jane and I wanted to tell you all… while we are all gathered together… that we expect… that is, well, we think Jane is expecting again… she hasn’t felt the quickening yet, but we are fairly certain…

it probably won’t be until January or February, but we wanted all of you to know.

” Bingley’s speech finally stumbled to a stop and he managed not to look toward his mother-in-law, but no one noticed because they were all exclaiming over Jane and calling out their congratulations to the couple.

Mrs. Bingley looked like herself for the first time since arriving at Longbourn, glowing with serene happiness and smiling shyly at her husband.

The evening ended not long after a toast had been drunk; the Darcys admitted that their trip had left them exhausted and everyone else recognized that their hostess was looking increasingly pained.

Any tears that were shed while they bid one another good night were attributed to the family’s happy reunion.

Having gone to the nursery to check on young Ben, the Darcys paused in the doorway to see Mrs. Bennet on her way to her apartment, leaning heavily on her husband’s arm.

Elizabeth’s sobs held off only as long as it took to shut the door to her bedchamber and step into Fitzwilliam’s embrace.

The next morning, the Darcys rose early and left for a walk before the rest of the house had stirred, although Elizabeth was amused to catch sight of Lydia’s bonnet bobbing along a distant path heading toward Oakham Mount.

Although she had fallen asleep with tears on her cheeks, Lizzy found it hard not to be cheerful on such a fine morning.

Glad to see her spirits rising, Darcy was careful to keep their conversation on light and happy topics.

Lydia and the Darcys did not see one another until they all arrived at the front door together.

The three stood on the front steps to enjoy a few more minutes of the morning sunshine and Lizzy was just asking about her sister’s walk when the door opened behind them.

Turning, one look at Mrs. Hill’s stricken face told the story.

“Miss Lizzy? The mistress always likes me to bring her tea about now, but she won’t wake. I shook her a little, but… well, and your father’s asleep in his chair by her bed, and I didn’t like to wake him… Oh Miss Lizzy…”

Elizabeth hugged the old housekeeper and it was only a moment before she felt Lydia join them.

Vaguely, she heard Mr. Darcy call one of their footmen and send him off to retrieve the doctor from the inn at Meryton.

Not for the first time, she thanked the heavens for the steady man whom she had married.

It was decided that the ladies would go to their mother’s apartment and undertake the unhappy task of waking their father, if he had not already done so by himself.

Darcy agreed to stay near the front door to meet the doctor when he arrived.

With a thankful look, Lizzy turned and, arm-in-arm with Lydia, started up the stairs.

Mrs. Bennet looked very peaceful, tucked under the bedclothes with her hands clasped at her breast and a small smile softening her mouth. Her pale skin was cool to the touch, however, and neither sister could detect any sign of life.

Lizzy knelt by her father and took his hand, wishing that she had something better to offer the haggard man.

Though he had been deep asleep, Mr. Bennet’s eyes showed his understanding almost instantly, flicking from Elizabeth to his wife and back again.

He remained still for a minute, but then squeezed his daughter’s hand and rose stiffly from his chair.

Thomas stood at his wife’s bedside for a long time, head bowed, before finally smoothing her hair and kissing her forehead.

He rested his hand briefly on Lydia’s shoulder before nodding jerkily at Lizzy and leaving the room, all without saying a word.

Elizabeth took her father’s chair and the sisters remained where they were, keeping a silent vigil, disturbed only when Mrs. Gardiner joined them and then, later, Jane and Kitty.

It was an hour before Dr. Grant arrived but his verdict was of no great surprise.

“She passed in the night, around one or two o’clock in the morning, if I had to guess.

By the look of her, she went peacefully, which is a blessing given the pain some have to endure toward the end. ”

The next few days passed in a haze for Elizabeth.

She recalled holding her sisters as they cried, and later, sobbing alone in her husband’s embrace.

At some point, the Phillipses were sent for and, while Mrs. Gardiner did her best to soothe that woman’s wild sobs over her sister’s dead body, Mr. Phillips quietly sat down with Darcy and Gardiner to begin sorting through the business associated with death.

Later, Lizzy would learn that Mr. Darcy had sent Tilly in a carriage to London almost immediately after Mrs. Hill delivered her news.

At the time, all she knew was that she suddenly had mourning clothes to put on, and there was a seamstress to make gowns for her sisters from the bolts of black bombazine that had appeared along with the black crepe to cover the windows and hang on the house’s facade.

In death, Longbourn kept to the old ways.

Mrs. Hill and the old cook washed their late mistress and sewed her shroud.

Mr. Anderson, the best carpenter in Meryton, built the coffin from wood of a great elm that had blown over at Longbourn during the previous winter.

When Mr. Bennet was brought by his brothers-in-law to inspect it, the very wood seemed to mock him, for he had set aside those boards with the expectation that they would remain unused until some distant time in the future, and then for himself, not his lively young wife.

The Bennet sisters had reserved the final night’s vigil as their own, and, though the drawing room might have been draped in black, it was brightly lit with a dozen good candles brought up from Derwent House.

Once the rest of the house had gone to bed, the young ladies gathered around their mother’s casket with their sewing baskets and set to work.

When the mourners next saw Mrs. Bennet, they were amazed, for her shroud had been quite transformed with embroidery, ribbons, and lace, as if it was the finest ball gown; those who looked closely could even see the toes of pink dancing slippers peeking out from beneath her skirt.

She held a bouquet of summer flowers in a rainbow of colors cut from her own garden, and a long braid of daisies and ribbons had been cunningly stitched to the white crepe ruffle around the rim of the coffin.

Mr. Bennet was so shocked by his wife’s appearance that his face turned grey and he was forced to sit on the front pew for ten minutes entire before he could make a sound. When he could speak at last, he thanked his girls with an earnestness that few had ever heard from him.

The bells were rung before and after the service, and the vicar’s sermon reflected a lifetime’s knowledge of the deceased.

Mr. Bennet stood with his daughters while his wife’s coffin was born into a full church by her two brothers, Gardiner and Phillips, and her two sons-in-law, Darcy and Bingley.

Determining the final pair of pall bearers had caused some consternation among her kin, but finally Mr. Bennet had decided that it was only right for the duty to go to Mr. Wright, as Fanny’s future son-in-law, and Sir Richard Fitzwilliam, standing for Longbourn’s young heir.

Mr. Gardiner had looked uncertain at this last nomination until Mrs. Phillips commented bluntly, “Well, the only thing my sister liked better than a juicy bit of gossip was something to fuss at, and she surely did enjoy fussing about the Collinses and Fitzwilliams.”

Thanks to the servants that their neighbors sent over to help, all of Longbourn’s silver was polished to a fine gleam and an abundance of food and drink was prepared in time for the mourners’ return from the church.

Charlotte excused herself immediately and set off for the kitchen to check on the last details; Elizabeth found herself glad to let her old friend assume the responsibility.

Instead of worrying about the household, Mrs. Darcy drew her sisters upstairs to their mother’s old bedchamber; the four looked like a flock of blackbirds roosting in an otherwise cheerful room.

“I still say that we should have gone to the graveyard to see the end of it,” sighed Lydia as she dropped into a chair by the window with just a bit of a flounce.

“Lydia—such a thing is not done! Surely you know that by now,” responded Jane tiredly.

“Lydia,” interjected Elizabeth when it appeared that her youngest sister was prepared to argue the point. “Perhaps we should think of what our mother would have wanted, rather than ourselves, hmmm?”

“Mama would have been mortified,” admitted her youngest sister with only a small pout.

Then she brightened; “Unless there was a single man of large fortune likely to be there; then she would have coached me on how to swoon in just such a way to make him catch me… and nurse me back to health… and fall madly in love with me… and we would marry and live happily ever after!” She demonstrated her best swoon from her seat in the chair.

Lydia’s comment was so very true that not even Mrs. Bingley could think of how to argue. After a long moment of silence, Elizabeth began to laugh, followed by her younger sisters and eventually even Jane.

After a time, they began to talk again, more easily now. “It seems wrong that Mary is not here,” said Jane softly. “I know she could not very well fly back from Africa, and the funeral could not be delayed, but…”

“I’m going to draw a picture of Mama in her coffin, with all the lace and ribbons and flowers, so that Mary can see how pretty she looked,” offered Kitty earnestly. “She looked happy and… and peaceful. Not at all like those dreadful corpses you read about in novels.”

Mrs. Darcy managed to hold her tongue and not laugh aloud.

“In our next letter to Mary, we must be sure to include which psalm the vicar read… and which hymns we sang,” commented Jane rather absently.

“Mr. Darcy is having the hair we cut made into broaches for each of us. I shall find out if we can safely send it in a parcel to Africa, or if it would be better to save it until the Tuckers return to England,” offered Lizzy.

She waved off their thanks, saying that they would do better to direct their appreciation to her husband.

“He told me that he remembered Lady Catherine de Bourgh saying that every lady should have at least one good piece of mourning jewelry. Her advice proves useful at the oddest of times,” she mused for a moment until the others began giggling.

“Come, then—a last hug and then, once more into the breach, dear friends,” responded Lizzy, gathering her sisters around her .

“Does everyone have at least one dry handkerchief?” asked Jane worriedly.

“Has anyone seen my sketchbook?” added Kitty.

“Didn’t Mr. Sanderson look handsome in his blue coat?” piped Lydia, whereupon they all began giggling again.

Once they had recovered a proper solemnity, the sisters descended to the drawing room to check the arrangements and greet the visitors.

It was not long before the gentlemen returned from the internment, and with their arrival, it seemed as if all the county’s population had descended on Longbourn to offer their sympathy.

The gathering was so well-attended that they finally opened the doors of the drawing room so that the crowd might spill outside.

Some might have considered it irreverent for a wake to be held in the deceased’s garden on a beautiful sunny afternoon, but as more than one visitor commented, only a person who had not really known Fanny Bennet would think such a thing.

After a time, Elizabeth noticed that her father remained absent, although Mr. Gardener assured her that his brother-in-law had returned with them from the cemetery. Unsurprisingly, she tracked him to his study. He sat at his desk but, instead of a book, he was holding one of Kitty’s drawings.

“Papa?” called Elizabeth when it became obvious that he had not noticed her knock.

He glanced up and blinked a few times as if coming out of a trance. “Of course, come in, Lizzy. Come in, but shut the door, please.”

He stared at her for a minute as if searching out traces of familiar features. “Your mother was not the most educated of women, but she had so much energy about her… can you feel it? Can you feel how cold Longbourn has become? It has lost its heart.”

He wiped some tears away roughly and set the paper down on the desk where Elizabeth could see that it was a simple charcoal sketch capturing her mother in the happiest of moods, her face wreathed in smiles and eyes crinkled with laughter.

“I ought to have had her portrait painted when we were first married… I meant to, but the money always seemed to be needed for something else… and I knew it would have to be a very talented portraitist to capture that look in her eyes.” Thomas pulled out his handkerchief and blew his nose loudly.

“Now, I find that all I had to do was give her daughter some paper and a little encouragement. It seems so obvious, now that I think on it. She loved you girls with all her heart, you know. Oh, my poor, dear Fanny.”

Lizzy comforted her father as best she could, until finally his great racking sobs subsided.

“Come, Papa…” Lizzy led him over to a window where he could see the Bennet girls and their guests gathered in the garden.

“Se e Lydia? She already has Jane smiling again. And Kitty is looking at Mr. Wright as if he could hang the moon. That was Mama’s gift to us—her joy and her zest for life.

She lives on in all of her daughters, just as you live on in all of them,” she said, pointing to where Collin, John Thomas, and Bennet were playing on a blanket.

Mrs. Darcy was rather proud of herself for composing such an uplifting speech until her father commented, “Lizzy, your son is eating grass.”

“Well, I’ve always had a preference for gentleman farmers.”

Mr. Bennet could not help but chuckle a little over that pert reply, and so, when she took his arm and pulled him toward the door, he did not resist. “Come Papa, my mother would not have wanted you to hide away in your book room when there are so many guests at Longbourn.”