Page 46 of Fitzwilliam Darcy An Honourable Man

Pemberley

Saturday

Eighteen Months later

1816, July 14

Mr. Williamson felt completely at peace as he climbed the grand staircase in the very early hours, knowing he was right where God wanted him to be. He nodded to Mrs. Reynolds who passed him heading the opposite direction in an upstairs hallway. She smiled, stopping to ask if she could be of service. But with his assertion that he did not need a thing, she went on with her duties, paying him no mind. After all, he was just another member of the family now. He smiled, reflecting on his good fortune.

Who would have believed that I would spend my last days surrounded by such splendour, in the company of the woman I have always regarded as a daughter and others I have come to love through knowing her?

Now that his health required that he retire from all but occasional pastoral duties, Lizzybet had insisted he reside with them, but he had refused to invade their privacy or to give up his independence. So William had a nice-sized cottage built not a mile from the manor. The vicar chuckled to recall the reason William had given for selecting the location, though he would wager that William had not repeated it to his wife.

“You will be far enough removed to have some peace and quiet and close enough to join in the chaos, if you dare, when all of our family converges! And, besides, I might need to visit you occasionally to enjoy the silence.”

Yes, the cottage is so close that I may walk over anytime my legs decide to cooperate with my wishes, or use the ponies and phaeton that William insists on having at my disposal if they do not.

And he had to admit that when all of the Darcys’ extended family—the Ingrams, Bingleys and Fitzwilliams—were at Pemberley, it could become quite boisterous.

And that is not even taking into account the clamour the children create!

Mr. Williamson considered the growing number of children that would converge on Pemberley tomorrow, and that brought to mind his namesake, Master Fitzwilliam Thomas John Darcy—the dark-haired blue-eyed miniature replica of his father, whose first birthday was being celebrated the next day. He marvelled at the realisation that this birthday would mean the arrival of almost every member of the aforementioned families—some already ensconced in the family quarters, while others who lived nearby would arrive in time for the church services tomorrow.

Mentally, the vicar began to tally the count. Charles and Jane Bingley would be there in the morning, bringing Peter, almost three, and Molly, nineteen months old. Richard and Jenny Fitzwilliam would also arrive tomorrow, accompanied by six-year-old Margaret, five-year-old Mary, and their son, six-month-old David Richard. The Ingrams, who had just had a son, Blake Evan, after years of barrenness, would bring him and Millie, who, at four, was already the leader of the group of cousins.

Lizzybet’s uncle and aunt, Edwin and Madeline Gardiner, had arrived two days prior, bringing their brood—Jane, Sally, Benjamin, and Jonathan, ages fourteen, eleven, eight and five, respectively. Lord and Lady Matlock had arrived last evening from London, bringing their daughter, Lady Amelia Fairclothe, whose husband, Lord Daniel Fairclothe, was expected the next day as he had been detained on business. At Amelia’s arrival, Lizzybet had been so excited that she just had to tell him of William’s part in introducing his cousin to her husband. Fairclothe, it turns out, was one of William’s closest university classmates, and when Amelia’s first husband, Lord Cosgrove, expired shortly after Richard’s marriage, William had played the matchmaker. They had fallen madly in love but had waited for her year of mourning to pass before marrying.

Chuckling, Mr. Williamson recalled how animated Lizzybet had been as she added, “The Fairclothes have just announced that they are with child! Is that not wonderful—another babe in the family!”

He chuckled. As if they do not have more than their fair share of babies already!

But the true star of the day would be his grandchild—Will. By the time Will was born, Mr. Williamson had almost forgotten how securely a baby could capture a large portion of one’s heart just by smiling at the funny faces one made to entertain the child. And now that Will was old enough to cry when he had to return to his cottage, his love simply knew no bounds. Often the vicar found himself near to tears when it was time to go, as Will reminded him increasingly of time spent with his own dear son.

And on the occasions when the tears did come, they were not born of sorrow but from the surety that soon he would see Gregory again—once more clasp him to his bosom as he had often done in this life. As a vicar, he was well acquainted with the seasons of life as he had spent his life presiding over the rituals associated with them. Babies were born, grew up, married and formed families of their own—then they would die and the cycle would begin anew. That was as God intended. And as he neared the end of his own life, Mr. Williamson was content—pleased that he could honestly say that he had no regrets.

His musings kept him occupied, and before he knew it, he was standing at the door to the billiards room. There, he had been assured, he would find William. The door stood ajar, and upon a cursory look, it seemed that no one had been inside today, as everything was spotless and neatly arranged. Nevertheless, as he turned to go, he caught sight of William standing in the corner of the bank of windows that ran the entire length of the room. His blue coat and breeches blended in well with the blue drapes and had completely disguised his presence, given that he stood perfectly still.

Approaching him quietly, it was obvious that the Master of Pemberley was totally engrossed in watching something or someone on the lawn below. Since the windows were wide open, it was not long until Williamson heard Elizabeth’s melodious voice drifting up from below. Stepping closer to peer below, he caught sight of her helping her curly-haired son walk on the smooth lawn by holding each of his chubby hands. She was leaning over him from behind, while he looked straight up at her, grinning from ear to ear—his few front teeth clearly visible as he smiled back at his mother.

“You are doing so well, Will. Now let us see how you do without Mama holding your hands.” Elizabeth moved to kneel in front of the baby, helping him to balance and then scooting back a couple of feet, holding out her arms. “Come to Mama, sweetheart!”

A nimble-footed Will Darcy picked his feet up a little bit higher than was necessary as he lurched forward. Giggling, he took six steps in a row and fell into his mother’s arms. Instantly, he received a plethora of kisses while she extolled his accomplishment.

“That was simply wonderful, sweetling! You are doing very well! Papa will be so proud of you!”

As she continued to alternately put the baby down to waddle a few steps, then pick him up to kiss, cuddle, and praise his every effort, Mr. Williamson could not help but swell with grandfatherly pride. This child had captured his heart just as surely as his mother had six and twenty years before. Suddenly remembering that he was not alone, he glanced to see that Will’s father had never even noticed his presence in the room.

“A penny for your thoughts.”

William whirled around, an expression of pure elation on his face as he exclaimed, “Did you see him?”

Though his dark hair was threaded with grey now, his light blue eyes were sparkling as his dimples cut deeper than ever before. The result was that William appeared so much younger than the broken man of the Meryton cemetery two years previously that the vicar was momentarily stunned. And caught up in his astonishment at the contrast, the vicar did not answer.

William grabbed the mute man by shoulders, crowing, “Will is walking!”

He studied the vicar eagerly, waiting for him to acknowledge the significance, and as Mr. Williamson came to himself, he offered, tongue in cheek, “What a splendid accomplishment! I never doubted he would!”

This served to appease William, so he began to elaborate on what his son’s grandfather already knew. “Will has been pulling up for months, and the physician assured us that he would walk all in good time, but Elizabeth would not leave well enough alone. She has worked relentlessly to have him walking by his first birthday.”

From down below came a raised voice. “William? Is that you there in the billiards room? Have you seen what your son has accomplished? No, wait! Stay right there, and I shall bring him up to show you! Come, darling. Let us go show Papa.”

William had leaned over the window sill to hear Elizabeth, but before he could answer, she had scooped up their son and headed back inside. Seeing that she was no longer down below, William whispered to the man he had come to love as a father.

“Quickly, before she comes up, were you able to arrange everything?”

“Yes. It is all arranged for tomorrow morning.”

“Good! Good! I do not think she suspects a thing!”

“Have all the other members of your family been told of your plans?”

“Yes. I informed all of them months ago. All that is left is to surprise Elizabeth.”

Mr. Williamson grinned. “You know how Elizabeth can be about anyone hiding things from her. I pray she does not get upset with you.”

William smiled knowingly. “She never stays upset with me for long. Besides, how can she be anything but pleased when she finds out what I have planned and why? I want the world to know how much I love her.”

“Well, when you put it that way, I—”

Just at that moment, Elizabeth scurried into the room, her face flush with the exertion of carrying Will, who was already big for his age, up the stairs.

“William—oh, hello, Father Williamson! I am glad you are here, too. You both must watch Will walk!”

Placing her son on the floor, Elizabeth beamed with pride as the child she had prayed for took several energetic steps towards his doting father, who had already knelt and was holding out his arms. As Will fell into William’s arms, he pulled him against his chest, then stood and hugged him, rocking him from side to side.

“I knew you could do it, Son! You had only to make up your mind!”

Suddenly overcome with love for this little person, he buried his face in Will’s sweet-smelling curls and pressed kisses there before reaching for Elizabeth’s hand to pull her, too, into his embrace. As the three embraced, lost in their love for each other, Will’s grandfather grinned with the thought of something he now recalled—Richard’s wisdom on why the boy had not walked yet.

Will does not walk because he is just like his father—he will not be cajoled into anything! And, besides, why should the child walk when everyone insists on carrying him around?

The Pemberley Chapel

Sunday

1815, July 15

“But I do not understand why William insisted I dress so grandly,” Elizabeth complained to Jane and Georgiana as they exited the carriage that had just delivered the three—the last of the family—to Pemberley’s chapel. As she stood, she smoothed the beautiful white gown replete with Belgium lace ruffles and appliqués. “Mrs. Reynolds brought this gown into my dressing room this morning, informing me that it was a present from William, and that he wished me to wear it today. I imagine my husband is quite pleased with himself for having it created without my knowledge, but I scarcely wear white since Will was born as he always manages to stain my gowns. And since he is to be blessed today for his birthday, he will probably manage to do that before we leave the chapel. Besides, this one is too elegant for everyday wear.”

Jane and Georgiana exchanged cautious glances but did not reply, each praying they could finish their directive for William’s surprise—getting Elizabeth inside the church.

“Does Mrs. Drury have the baby with her?”

“Yes, Lizzy,” Jane sighed a little exasperated. “As I have told you twice before, Mrs. Drury has Will, so you do not have to worry about him.”

As they neared the stained glass panel in the front door, she caught a reflection of the flowers tucked in her dark curls. She giggled. “And one would think I was going to a ball instead of the local parish church. I can only wonder at Lady Matlock’s insistence that her maid style my hair today.”

Jane and Georgiana still did not comment, and this time it did not go unnoticed. Elizabeth stopped and turned to study her sisters, one brow raised in suspicion as she eyed first one then the other. “Is there something that I should know?”

Jane sighed and Elizabeth looked to her, knowing she could get information from her sister more readily than from William’s. “Tell me what you know that I do not!” Jane bit her bottom lip and looked to Georgiana. “Jane? You know how I hate surprises. Does William have something planned for later today?”

Jane stared at her feet. Elizabeth glanced at Georgiana, noting that she was doing the same. “Well, I shall just have to ask him! Since it seems we are the last to arrive, I imagine it will be after services before I shall have the chance!”

As Elizabeth was speaking, she turned to open the chapel door with much more force than was necessary, due to her exasperation and took one step inside. The sight that greeted her, however, was so breathtaking that she stopped short. The ceiling of the chapel was decorated with layers of white tulle strung from all four sides to one central point just in front of the altar. There, it was gathered and tied with lace, and a small nosegay of white roses and baby’s breath was tucked inside. These same nosegays decorated the ends of the pews, and dozens more roses filled crystal vases throughout the chapel. There were enough candles lit to brighten the entirety of Pemberley.

Stunned, Elizabeth began to look around the room, meeting the gazes of those who were now smiling at her. Among the throng, were not only their family members, but Mr. and Mrs. Barnwell, Mrs. Browning, her sister, and Arthur—all of whom nodded their greetings. Being in a trancelike state, Elizabeth would not be able to recall later the names of everyone in attendance.

Finally her eyes rested on William, standing in front and looking every inch the prince from one of her favourite fairytales. Her ebony eyes widened as she distinctly heard her father’s voice in a bittersweet dialogue from the past.

“ Ah, yes. Martha.” Her father sighed, remembering the rag doll that Elizabeth had fashioned by herself. “How is Miss Martha?”

“ She is sad sometimes. But I talk to her, and I remind her that things will get better once she grows up.” Lizzy swept a lock of unruly hair from her forehead, looking up with the dark, bright eyes her father adored. “That is true, is it not? Things will get better when she grows up?”

Mr. Bennet directed a long, thoughtful look at her. “Yes, Lizzy. Things will get better when Martha grows up. You see, this little trunk is called a dowry chest. Martha should put all the things in it that she loves, and the things she will want to take with her when she marries. One day a handsome prince will fall in love with her. They will marry and go to live in a beautiful castle. And they will both be happy for the rest of their lives.”

Georgiana, seated at the church organ, began the first notes of a wedding song, and it penetrated her consciousness causing her to recover from her reverie. Seeing her slight disorientation, William held out both his hands to her—just as he had on their wedding day. That gesture was all that was needed and Elizabeth smiled at her groom, the love radiating between them almost palpable to those watching. Sighs could be heard from all sides, and the next thing Elizabeth knew, Jane was pressing a bouquet of white roses into her hands, giving her a hug and then a little nudge towards the front. No other incentive was necessary as Elizabeth followed her heart to the one who held it securely in his grasp.

This ceremony was much longer than their first, though not any more heartfelt, as Mr. Williamson now used the entire marriage ceremony instead of the shorter version they had requested in Liverpool. The service progressed beautifully, the only incident to mar the solemnity of the occasion coming near the end when the vicar asked Elizabeth to repeat her vows. Will, upon hearing his mother’s voice, found that the toys Mrs. Drury had brought no longer entertained and began to call, “Mama!”

William and Elizabeth both instinctively turned to look toward their son, as the congregation chuckled quietly. Mrs. Drury, on the other hand, turned a lovely shade of crimson as every eye fixed on her attempts to capture the child’s attention with a toy. Nevertheless, Will would not quiet now that he had seen his mother and began to whimper. William knew that that meant he would soon begin to cry, so he caught Richard’s eye and nodded towards his son. Immediately Richard went to fetch the boy and bring him to his parents.

Thus, when Elizabeth began again—promising to love, cherish and obey, ‘til death would part them—their son, content in his father’s arms, smiled back at her, trusting that she was talking to him.

Sensing that he should hurry along now, Mr. Williamson promptly completed the ceremony and pronounced them man and wife. This time William needed no prodding from Richard and quickly leaned down to kiss his bride. However, upon seeing his parents kissing, Will leaned forward to receive his share. As the congregation laughed aloud, the couple quit their kiss to give Will one—a parent on either cheek.

There was not a dry eye in the chapel as the service ended.

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