Page 48 of Five Gentlemen at Netherfield (Pride and Prejudice Variations)

Drawing Room

Longbourn

Noon

It was a cool day outside, with the kind of overcast sky and thin milky gray light that made it seem even cooler than it was.

But all that was beyond the faintly rippled panes of glass, holding the outdoors at bay, and in the drawing room, all was light and cheer.

A fire lit the room in amber and gold, washing heat across all the residents on their various chairs and couches.

Miss Fairchild was sitting in a corner near the fireplace, where the light and heat were the best. At her feet sat a workbasket, full but tidily organized.

The workbaskets of her charges were not nearly as neat, with fabric and thread and ribbons overflowing the wicker sides, but tidiness could come later.

Miss Fairchild considered it a triumph that Lydia and Kitty were using the baskets at all.

It was important, the governess had learned, to take one’s victories where one could.

For now, at least, the two youngest Misses Bennet were sitting quietly, their needlework spread across their laps, and their voices decorously hushed as they spoke together.

It would have been an improbable sight when Miss Fairchild had first arrived, and she felt justly pleased with the girls’ progress.

Nonetheless, her presence was still required to keep them appropriately subdued, and so she took occasional part in their conversation, just to remind them that her attention was not quite ever off of them, even as her eyes wandered to the other two women in the room.

Jane Bennet sat at the table beneath the window, a scrap of paper before her, over which her elegant handwriting sloped in a short list. Right now, her focus was not on her list, but on her mother sitting across the table from her and in full flow.

With all the joy and excitement of Jane’s betrothal, Mrs. Bennet had been rendered quite beautiful even in her middle age, but unfortunately not more sensible, and Jane listened to her mother’s suggestions with a patient half-smile of fondness and a tinge of exasperation.

“My dear Jane,” Mrs. Bennet said impressively. “I think we must have a pineapple for decoration. Would that not be wonderful? Even Sir Quinton and Lady Marston did not have a pineapple at their wedding breakfast. I know they are a trifle dear, but you only are married once, after all.”

Jane sighed deeply and said, “Mamma, I understand you wish for a marvelous wedding breakfast, but we…”

The door opened, and she broke off, and a moment later she was on her feet and running toward her next younger sisters, who were advancing arm in arm into the room.

“Lizzy! Mary!” she exclaimed, falling on both ladies with tears in her eyes. “Oh, how wonderful to see you!”

There was a cacophony of cries and shrieks from the other ladies, except for Miss Fairchild, who watched with smiling approval, and it was a full five minutes before the ladies were sitting down again, with Mrs. Bennet ordering a maid to bring tea and scones for the travelers.

“Where are Mrs. Gardiner and the children?” Jane finally thought to ask, looking around herself in confusion, and Elizabeth said, “She is on her way to Cheapside, as she was eager to return home. Mr. Darcy arranged for a separate carriage for her and the children.”

“And the children are entirely well again?” Jane asked.

“Yes, very well,” Mary confirmed with a nod. “The air at Pemberley is marvelous, and the children have blooming cheeks and bright eyes.”

“As do you,” Kitty remarked. “You and Elizabeth look wonderful.”

Mary smiled, and Mrs. Bennet tilted her head a trifle, her eyes narrowed.

“You do look quite pretty, Mary,” she said in a surprised tone. “Have you done something with your hair?”

“I did,” Mary said, and then looked at Elizabeth, who said, “Mary and I are both very happy, in part, because I am engaged to Mr. Darcy, and Mary is engaged to Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

Lydia was the first to respond, and Jane was impressed and pleased when she said, “Oh, Sisters, I am so very happy for you both!”

“I am as well,” Kitty chimed in and then fell silent as Mrs. Bennet erupted.

“Engaged to a man with ten thousand pounds a year? Engaged to the son of an earl! Oh, oh, oh, my dears! I can hardly believe it! It is in all ways wonderful!”

***

Mr. Bennet’s Bedchamber

Longbourn

Elizabeth eased her father’s bedroom door open on noiseless hinges and peeked around it before stepping into the room. She was hit with a wall of heat and stopped short in momentary surprise, adjusting herself to the raised temperature of the room and taking stock of her surroundings.

Mr. Bennet had not yet noticed her from his position by the fire.

His thickly padded leather wingback, his favorite chair in the room, had been drawn as close to the fire as was sensible, and he was installed in it now.

A snug woolen blanket was wrapped around his thin frame, piled generously on his shoulders and around his neck.

Elizabeth would have been sweltering, so close to the fire and in the warm blanket, but then, her father had been predisposed to the cold ever since his apoplexy. He likely relished the extra warmth.

He was not sleeping, she thought. His head was too upright for that, but he did not turn it to look at her upon her advent into the room, and Elizabeth took the chance to study him and assess his condition for herself.

She thought he looked rather worse than he had some weeks previously when she had taken her leave of him.

White hair was thinner, and there was a gauntness to his face that had not been there when last she had seen him.

Even the flesh on the bones of his body seemed less, his figure smaller and a little more stooped.

Nonetheless, his eyes were clear when he turned at last, as she approached, and they lit up at the sight of her. He was quite intelligible, even, when he exclaimed with patent joy, “Lizzy!”

“Father!” she replied, hurrying over to embrace his well-swaddled form. “I am so glad to see you.”

“Glad to see you, my Lizzy,” he muttered back. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too, Father,” she replied, and though her eyes were wet with tears, she forced herself to smile enthusiastically.

She had asked Jane how her father was doing, and Jane had told her that he was much the same, but Elizabeth could see that he had deteriorated in the last weeks, and quite noticeably.

“Welcome back and sit down,” he said, gesturing with his good hand to a smaller chair across from him. His speech was still garbled, but she was relieved that she had not lost her ability to understand him in the last weeks.

She pulled the chair closer to him and obediently sat down and found her heart beating faster. He looked so frail that she hesitated to tell him of her engagement. Ought she to wait?

But no, he deserved to hear it from her own lips, not from one of her sisters or relations.

“Father, I have news,” she said, reaching out to take his right hand in her own.

He tilted his head just slightly, and asked, “About Mr. Darcy, perhaps?”

She must have looked startled, because he chuckled and said, “I knew it, Lizzy. He stared at you often, and a gentleman does not invite a lady to his estate on a mere whim.”

“We are engaged,” she said and tightened her grip on his hand.

The skeletal fingers clenched a little, but to her relief, and surprise, her father did not look upset.

“I am glad,” he said, though it took more effort for her to understand him.

“I am too,” she replied. “Mary is engaged to Colonel Fitzwilliam too.”

He nodded and closed his eyes for a full thirty seconds, and she wondered if he was falling asleep.

Then he opened them, and said, “I will not live much longer, my dear, and I am pleased that you girls will be settled with good men.”

She gulped at these words but could not find it in her heart to protest. There was new weakness in her father’s crippled form, and she thought he knew far better than she that the end was drawing near.

His eyes fluttered again, and she said, “Might I read to you, Father?”

“From the Bible, my dear,” he replied.

She obeyed and found that there was a bookmark in the Gospel of John.

“From the Gospel of John,” she began, “ There was a man of the Pharisees, named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews:

The same came to Jesus by night, and said unto him, Rabbi, we know that thou art a teacher come from God: for no man can do these miracles that thou doest, except God be with him.

Jesus answered and said unto him, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God…

She read the beloved words with her heart in an icy grip. She did not think her father had much time left.

***

Sitting Room

Matlock House

The Next Day

A faint smell of lavender clung permanently to the Countess of Matlock’s favorite sitting room.

It was a remarkably appropriate aroma, for the entire room had been done by the countess in a very feminine style, all ruffles and frills in pink and lavender and lilac.

White lace adorned the pale purple curtains at the windows, delicate watercolors of roses hung on the walls and scarcely a cushion in the room was without its frilly adornment.

Even the wood for the fire smelled good, with occasional logs of rosewood scenting the air with a floral hint in the smoke.

It was in this feminine retreat that the Countess now sat at a lovely pale-stained maple desk.

Correspondence was laid out across the polished surface, and she had one letter open in her hands, perusing it.

The room was quiet and peaceful, and thus she startled slightly when the door was opened.

She turned to see who had disturbed her sanctum, her eyes resting on her butler.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy,” the butler announced and then withdrew.

Lady Matlock squealed and leaped up in delight.