Page 36 of Heiress of Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variations)

Church

Kympton

22nd March, 1812

The hum of chatter rose and filled the church as the service ended and the parishioners walked out of their pews to greet their neighbors. Many of the congregants still appeared pale, and wan, and a little thin, and the church held only perhaps half the usual number of attendees. But there were more faces than last week and no newly missing ones, Elizabeth noted with pleasure as she and Lydia stepped from the Wickham box and looked around.

Lydia had only just started coming back on Sundays. Between warming weather and the nausea easing its dreadful grip on her mornings, young Mrs. Wickham was beginning to feel a bit better. She, too, was wan and pale, but smiled at her few acquaintances present. If precedent held, she would be laid low again by that evening, but Elizabeth said, and Alexander agreed, that it would do the expectant mother to be out and about when she had the energy for it.

Lydia was dressed in a loose gown today made of dark red velvet, with a white lace cap on her head, which made her look older than her tender years. Elizabeth smiled to see it, but could not help a tiny twinge of sadness at seeing her youngest sister looking so grown up.

“Good morning, Mrs. Wickham, Miss Bennet,” a familiar male voice said from behind them, and the sisters turned and curtsied to Mr. and Miss Darcy, the latter dressed charmingly in a soft blue which matched her eyes.

“Good morning,” Elizabeth and Lydia chorused.

“It is pleasant to see you today, Mrs. Wickham,” Darcy said, turning to face the young matron. “I hope you are feeling well?”

Lydia looked rather startled but managed to say, “Erm, yes, Mr. Darcy, I am well enough, thank you.”

“Darcy,” Alexander Wickham said from Elizabeth’s left, and she turned to observe her brother-in-law. As usual, she noted how his black garments, with the white bands around his neck, altered his looks so considerably. He was a very handsome gentleman and usually looked rather friendly, but when wearing the outfit of his calling, he appeared far more austere and, yes, impressive.

“Are you and Miss Darcy able to join us for a light nuncheon today?” Alexander continued, to Elizabeth’s surprise.

“We are looking forward to it,” Darcy replied, which surprised Elizabeth even more. Apparently her expression displayed her confusion, and Alexander said, “I spoke of the invitation with Lydia two days ago, Elizabeth, when you were visiting the Sinclairs.”

“And I forgot to tell you, Lizzy,” Lydia said apologetically.

“I hope that is not a problem?” Mr. Darcy asked, and Elizabeth shook her head immediately. “No, not at all! I am delighted to share a nuncheon with you both.”

This provoked a broad, genuine smile on Mr. Darcy’s face, and Elizabeth felt a now common flutter in her chest. Mr. Darcy really was a very handsome man, and when he was looking happy and approachable, he ranked among the most attractive individuals she had ever met.

“Mr. Darcy,” a voice said from nearby, and the party turned to observe Lady Ladson and Sir Wilbur approaching.

“Lady Ladson, Sir Wilbur,” Darcy said with a bow, and Sir Wilbur bowed in return and his lady inclined her head graciously.

“I hope you and Miss Darcy are well?” Sir Wilbur asked.

“We are, thank you.”

“That is a great relief,” Lady Ladson declared. “This dreadful measles epidemic, well, I was terrified that our girls would come down with it, which would have been an utter catastrophe with the Season starting in but a few weeks. We have been entirely confined to home for weeks, and very tedious it has been.”

Darcy’s expression shifted from calm to sardonic, but he merely bowed and said, “I can only imagine. But come, since you have not been to church in some time, you have likely not had the opportunity to meet Mrs. Wickham and Miss Bennet. Might I have the honor of introducing them to you?”

Elizabeth, watching the lady, was quite certain that she did not wish for anything of the kind, but Sir Wilbur immediately said, “Of course, sir, of course!”

“Lady Ladson and Sir Wilbur, Mrs. Wickham and her sister, Miss Bennet,” Darcy said. “Ladies, Sir Wilbur and Lady Ladson.”

Elizabeth and Lydia curtsied deeply, and Sir Wilbur bowed, and his wife tilted her chin slightly and said, “We are pleased to meet you. Now, we must be returning home to our dear daughters. I do think that the epidemic is largely over, but we simply cannot be too careful, can we, Sir William?”

Sir Wilbur looked startled but said, “Of course, my dear. Good day.”

“Good day,” the group chorused and watched as the pair turned and made their way toward the door, with the more humble parishioners parting as the sea did before Moses.

Elizabeth found herself fighting a smile. The lady seemed very proud, and her poor husband hen-pecked.

“Shall we walk home now, Husband?” Lydia asked politely, reaching out to grasp her husband’s arm. He smiled and guided her out of the front door of the church, pausing every minute or two to exchange a few words with his parishioners. Darcy gallantly held out both arms, with Miss Darcy taking his right arm and Elizabeth his left.

As they walked behind the Wickhams, Elizabeth was unusually aware of the muscular nature of Darcy’s arm under his coat. Mrs. Barstowe, a widow with four children, had shared, rather shyly, that Mr. Darcy himself had arrived at her cottage two weeks previously to chop wood for the family, three of whom had fallen ill with the measles. Obviously, there was far more to the man than writing business letters and enjoying meals. He was strong, and hardworking, and honorable, and generous. It was pleasant to spend time in the company of such a man.

Darcy escorted his temporary charges out the front door and down the steps onto the street, and Elizabeth found herself looking around with pleasure.

The sun was shining bright and warm, and the trees' silhouettes were starting to green as the tiny, fuzzy buds began to grow in response to the warmer weather. Daffodils and crocuses were poking cheerful heads up through the dirt of the tiny flowerbeds in front of the sun-warmed stone walls of the church, and birds sang all around.

The signs of spring were encouraging. The winter had been a difficult one, with the measles epidemic that had swept through the area, as well as Lydia’s own illness. She was tired from worry and toil and visiting the sick, and she was well aware that her brother by marriage was just as weary, if not more so. Mr. Darcy did not display any exhaustion, but knowing how he had worked for his tenants, Elizabeth did not doubt that he felt the burden as well.

But spring was coming, and it would bring with it warm weather and health, for not only tenants and farmers and shopkeepers who were laid low, but hopefully also the parson's young wife, and for that Elizabeth was grateful.

Alexander and Lydia finally broke free of the congregants and began walking down the lane which led to the parsonage, and Darcy picked up his pace a trifle as well. Elizabeth matched his stride with ease, relishing the feeling of the crisp air in her lungs and the beauty of the world around her.

When they entered the parsonage, Alexander directed them to the dining room, where they found Mrs. Hayward putting out cold meats, sausage rolls, pickled vegetable salad, and stewed plums, along with urns of hot chocolate and coffee on a sideboard, while Gwendolyn, Lydia’s maid, was waiting to guide her mistress upstairs to help her change out of her church attire.

“I hope Lydia will be back down in a few minutes,” Alexander said after his wife had departed the room, “but it depends on how well she is feeling, and she would not wish for us to wait on her. Miss Darcy, Elizabeth, will you not gather your food?”

Georgiana obediently took a plate and filled it with food, with Elizabeth right behind her. The two ladies then sat side by side at the table, and a few minutes later, Darcy and Alexander sat down across from them, and they began eating and talking.

“I hope this warmer weather is a harbinger of things to come,” Alexander remarked. “I believe we would all relish an early spring.”

“Indeed, we would,” Darcy agreed, and his sister said, “I am looking forward to the gardens beginning to bloom, especially the rose garden, though of course that will not be for at least another month.”

“I adore roses,” Elizabeth said fondly.

“I do too,” Miss Darcy said and then added shyly, “My mother loved roses as well and ordered that an entire section of the garden be set aside for her favorite varieties. Fitzwilliam has directed the gardeners to keep it exactly as she had it, and in spring, it is truly glorious, Miss Bennet.”

“I can only imagine,” Elizabeth replied.

Darcy took a bite of sausage roll, chewed, swallowed, and then said, “If you are here in late April, you can tour the rose garden yourself.”

“Do you think you will be here?” Miss Darcy continued, gazing at her, “or will you need to return home in Hertfordshire?”

Elizabeth took a sip of coffee, lowered her cup, and discovered that the three others at the table were all staring at her with surprising intensity.

“Oh,” she said, “well, I do not know. It depends somewhat on how Lydia is feeling. I am very happy here and have no particular desire to return home.”

Both Darcys smiled at these words, and she smiled back, strangely flattered and pleased. It was an honor to be considered a friend of this family.

“We are delighted to hear that,” Darcy said. “You have seen Pemberley at its coldest and darkest, and I know you would enjoy seeing it in spring.”

“I am certain I would,” Elizabeth agreed sincerely.

***

Darcy’s Study

Pemberley

A Few Hours Later

Darcy leaned back until the leather and wood of his desk chair creaked, and he looked out the window. It was a truly beautiful spring day, with a warm sun hanging in a clear blue sky with a few puffy clouds drifting like so many drowsy sheep. The first green shoots of spring grass were pushing up through the mud, and several of the horses had been released from the stable into the adjoining pasture to investigate. Some of the mares were quite rotund, and Darcy smiled at the thought of spindle-legged and high-spirited foals frolicking through the pastures in a few short months.

His heart rejoiced at the advent of spring, of birds singing as they built their nests, of foals and calves and lambs in the fields, of the smell of rich good earth being tilled as farmers and their plow horses took to the fields. Their skies would be blue and clear, without winter's gray shroud, or at least lush with warm rain.

Spring had always been Darcy's favorite season, but this one seemed brighter because of the proximity of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. His love for the season was heightened by his love for her, and he would be a fool to deny his feelings any longer. The nuncheon today at the parsonage shared with the object of his affections had been an exquisite agony. No longer could he be silent in her vibrant presence, no longer could his regard stay hidden. It beat at his breast in time with his heart, refusing to be doused or hidden any longer. He wished her to be his bride, to be beside him forever.

And now, he thought, was the perfect time for him to propose. Young Mrs. Wickham was rapidly recovering her health and vitality, and the measles epidemic was finally nearing its end. The winter mud was drying, leaving the roads reasonably passable. Miss Bennet would have more leisure now to plan a wedding or accept the overtures of a courtship. Should she find his offer unbearable, she could, without too much inconvenience, return to Hertfordshire.

Such a thought was a knife to his ardent heart. Darcy was not sure how he could bear such a rejection; to be looked at with scorn and contempt by the lady he so adored! For a moment, he toyed with the idea of delaying, of basking a few days or even weeks longer in her presence, without speaking and risking the anguish of rejection. But no, such was the course of a coward, and Darcy was no craven. Should she refuse him, he would take it like a man and accept it with equanimity, no matter how deeply it would wound him.

Only one idea was more unbearable than that of her rejection, that she would, in some way, feel pressured to accept him against her own heart. Darcy knew he could never forgive himself for being the cause of her unhappiness.

With another glance at the heavenly blue of the sky, Darcy turned resolutely away from his window, drew over a piece of paper, dipped his pen into his ink, and began to write.

Pemberley

Miss Bennet,

Some months ago, I stood in a hall in a little town called Meryton and insulted you by loudly declaring to my friend Bingley that you were tolerable, but not handsome enough to dance with...