Page 43 of Elizabeth is not a Bennet

Outside Greymere

Dawn

A Week Later

It was as if a great artist had lifted a skilled brush to paint the sky in watercolors, with cool soft blue and pale yellow and dabs of pink hanging along the horizon, and not even a wisp of white cloud to mark the vista. The air lay calm as a tranquil sea, with only the faintest breath of breeze stirring the grass.

The shadows of the carriages, three of them lined up, stretched long over the gravel towards the western lawn. Twelve horses tossed their manes and sighed and shifted their weight, waiting patiently for the servants to finish and the passengers to embark. Dark footsteps were visible across the dew-tinted silver grass, and gravel crunched beneath hurrying feet as the servants finished lashing trunks to the backs of the waiting carriages.

“Thank you again for coming north with us, Uncle,” Elizabeth said, stepping forward and embracing Mr. Bennet. “It was very kind of you to go to Scotland, and even kinder to come here to Greymere. ”

“I wished to be absolutely certain that everything was settled with your brother, but now I am entirely confident. Not that I had any doubt about Darcy’s ability to care for you. He is an excellent husband to you, Lizzy.”

“I know,” Elizabeth answered and blinked back tears. One of the exasperating facets of pregnancy was that she was all too inclined to cry. “I love him dearly.”

“And he loves you,” Bennet replied just as Darcy, who had been speaking with Wickham a few feet away, strode up to Bennet and held out his hand, which the older man shook.

“I will pray for a safe journey for you, Mr. Bennet,” Darcy said solemnly, and Bennet replied, “Thank you. I know that Elizabeth will write frequently, and while I cannot promise I will write with equal diligence, I will enjoy any news you care to send our way. Mary will write, at least; she is far more faithful a correspondent than I.”

Elizabeth chuckled and embraced him one more time, and then husband and wife watched as her uncle climbed into his carriage. A manservant shut the door behind him and then hopped up onto the rumble seat. The coachman clucked his tongue, and the grays started into motion, pulling the hired carriage down the drive and toward Longbourn. It would take several days for Mr. Bennet to return to his ancestral home, but the weather was good and the roads, for now, were dry, so Elizabeth was hopeful the trip would be a smooth one.

“Elizabeth?”

She turned facing Greymere and smiled as her brother descended to the now mowed lawn and walked toward her, his expression uncertain.

“Harold,” she said, reaching out to draw her taller brother into an embrace. “Thank you for hosting us at Greymere.”

“I only wish you could stay longer,” young Stowe replied.

“We need to return to Pemberley and Georgiana, but I intend to write frequently.”

“Yes, and we would be pleased for you to visit Pemberley whenever it is convenient,” Darcy said, stepping up next to his wife. “Wickham will be here to help you, and he has a good head on his shoulders.”

“Yes, I am very grateful to Wickham,” Stowe said, obviously truthfully.

Elizabeth smiled at Wickham, who was hovering nearby and looked vaguely surprised at the other men’s accolades.

“We are also grateful for your assistance, Mr. Wickham,” she said .

He appeared even more startled and nodded. “It was my pleasure, of course, Mrs. Darcy.”

“Shall we, dear one?” Darcy asked, and Elizabeth, noting that the servants had finished tying trunks to the two carriages, nodded and said, “Yes.”

He guided her over to the front carriage, opened the door, and helped her in. She took her place in the forward facing seat and watched with amusement as Darcy beckoned Wickham closer and murmured something into his old playmate’s ear. Based on the expression on Wickham’s face, Darcy was putting the fear of God into him. Wickham muttered something back, his expression grave, and Darcy nodded briskly, climbed into the carriage, and sat down next to his wife as a servant closed the door.

Elizabeth reached out and took Darcy’s hand in her own, and the carriage jolted into motion. She turned and waved with her free hand at Harold, who was watching her with a determined smile, and then the carriage dropped over a small rise, and Harold, Wickham, and Greymere were out of sight.

“Are you all right, darling?” Darcy asked, and she realized his gaze was fixed on her face.

“I will miss my brother,” she replied, “but I also miss Georgiana, and I am eager to go home. ”

“Does it feel like home now, then? Not Longbourn?”

“Not Longbourn,” she said, and her brow wrinkled as she considered his question.

“It is odd to think about, truly,” she finally said. “I was born at Greymere and lived here as a toddler, and then for the next nineteen years, I was happily settled at Longbourn. But I belong with you, my love, and I am confident that for the rest of my life, Pemberley will always feel like home.”

He kissed her passionately at these words, and she returned the favor. When they had parted, breathing quickly, Darcy pulled her closer and said, “I love you dearly, Elizabeth.”

“I love you too, with all my heart.”

/

Longbourn

Four Days Later

It was a glorious spring day, with a slight breeze, clouds like so much cotton, and blue skies. A carriage pulled to a halt in front of Longbourn, and Mr. Bennet did not even wait for a servant to open the door of the carriage. He pushed it open, hopped out, and stretched his legs and back as he looked around with pleasure. It had been many years since he had been away from his estate for so long, and it was glorious to be back.

The front door of Longbourn opened, and his three younger daughters appeared and rushed down the stone steps.

“Father!” Lydia cried out. “I am so glad that you are back!”

He reached out to gather up his girls, relishing the sturdy bodies and pretty faces and cheerful voices.

“I am very glad to see you too, my dears. I was gone too long.”

Mrs. Bennet appeared at this juncture and made her way down the stairs, smiling happily. “Mr. Bennet! Welcome home!”

“Thank you, my dear,” he replied, and surprised himself and his wife by planting a kiss on her rosy lips.

Kitty and Lydia giggled madly at the sight of their parents’ expression of affection, and Mrs. Bennet blushed and said, “My dear Mr. Bennet, really! But I am delighted to see you again. How is dear Lizzy? Is she safe? ”

“She is entirely well,” Bennet said. “Darcy is an intelligent and determined young man, and he is taking excellent care of his new bride.”

All but Mary froze in astonishment at these words, and Mrs. Bennet, after a moment to recover, exclaimed, “Mr. Darcy ... are you saying that Elizabeth is married to Mr. Darcy ?”

“Of course she is,” Bennet replied, turning toward Mary in wonder.

“I did not tell them about Lizzy’s marriage,” his second daughter explained.

“At my direction,” Mrs. Bennet chimed in. “I wanted to know everything, naturally, but when I thought of that dreadful Mr. Denny and how close Lizzy came to being murdered! Well, I told Mary that I did not want to know anything! It would be quite dreadful if something awful happened because of foolish gossip!”

Bennet stared at his wife in wonder. He knew that Mrs. Bennet adored gossip, and it said much for her love of Elizabeth that she was willing to give up juicy news in order to keep her adopted child safe.

“That was wise,” he said approvingly, “but now any danger is passed. Elizabeth is married to Darcy and of age, and if something were to happen to her, Ravenswood would pass to her husband. ”

“Oh, how wonderful! Two children well married! But Mr. Bennet – we do have news! Jane is expecting a child this autumn!”

“So is Elizabeth!” Bennet declared.

“Oh, how marvelous!”

/

Pemberley

The windows of Pemberley glowed welcomingly with warm amber firelight, and Elizabeth beamed up at them in relief as the carriage jolted to a stop before the front door. She was tired after many days of travel; their rides in the carriage short and their stays in the inns long. A deep weariness had settled over the expectant mother, and Darcy, worried, had set a leisurely pace home. Elizabeth did not regret going slowly, but she would be very glad to sleep in her own bed tonight.

Several servants stood waiting to unload their carriage, as the servants’ carriage had been sent ahead this morning. Thus the master and mistress were expected, their rooms above aired and ready, their maid and valet already hard at work. Lanterns bobbed closer as the coachman let down the steps, manservants lighting up the drive like overly large fireflies on a summer night. Cold air nipped in when the carriage door was opened, though Elizabeth took a moment to be grateful that the expected rain was at least holding off.

Her husband stepped down ahead of her and turned back, taking her hand gently in his own strong one, and assisted her tenderly out and down onto the gravel.

Georgiana, dressed in a sensible woolen pelisse and her face alight with joy, rushed forward and embraced first her brother and then Elizabeth.

“Oh, I am so happy to see you both!” the girl cried out. “Welcome!”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth replied, returning the hug with fervor, and then stepping back to gaze at her surroundings, now so familiar and dear. “It is wonderful to be home!”