Page 47 of Heiress of Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variations)
Darcy House
Three Hours After Midnight
29 th June, 1838
Elizabeth Darcy shifted in her bed, and her eyes opened slightly. The room was dark, and it was obviously still the middle of the night, so why was she awake?
The bed shifted a little, and she smiled and turned over to reach a questing hand toward the other side of the bed. Her hand was met by another hand, that of her darling husband, and she murmured, “Did you just come to bed, my dear?”
“I did,” Fitzwilliam whispered back, “and am sorry to have woken you.”
“It is quite all right,” she replied and yawned before continuing. “Did the coronation go well?”
“Very well, and I am honored to have been present at Westminster Chapel, although I am weary. I am not used to such pomp and circumstance. Are you well, my dear?”
“I am, though I am tired, of course. So many people…”
She yawned again, hugely, and shifted a little closer to her husband, who reached out his long arms to draw her close to him.
“Tomorrow will also be busy,” he murmured, “so go to sleep, my dear.”
She did.
***
Estate of Pemberley
An Hour After Dawn
The pinks and mauves and lavenders of sunrise had faded into a forget-me-not blue as the sun climbed above the horizon. George Wickham gave the sky a single appreciative glance and snapped his reins across Jemma's bay back. Mr. Bailey lifted his hat and turned to once more go inside the cottage to his wife and two daughters. In return for a modest yearly income and the use of the cottage, the Baileys had agreed some twenty years ago to live with Wickham and assist him with the daily tasks he could not manage himself – such as hitching Jemma to the gig. At least now George could climb into the gig without assistance on all but his worst days.
Today was not one of those worst days. It was not a good one, either, though; he had slept poorly, the stump of his leg paining him no matter how he had shifted on the straw mattress. He did not know why it bothered him so much that night. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to when the pain would flare up. When he had first returned from the Continent, he had raged against his infirmity, by turns furious and dejected by such melancholy he could scarcely eat or move. But that was years in the past. Long ago he had learned to bear it stoically, and now, as the day had dawned, the pain had eased somewhat, and he felt well enough to glory in the day. A soft breeze caressed his face and tugged at his hat, and the birds in the trees were beginning to wake and sing of the sun's warmth to come. The drive to Kympton was perhaps twenty minutes on a good day, and Wickham intended to enjoy every one of them.
It seemed a short ride to the parsonage, and soon Wickham was guiding Jemma into the stable. Titus, the handsome bay gelding that drew Alexander Wickham's own gig, swung his head around to nicker a greeting to his sister. George clambered carefully down onto the straw-strewn dirt floor and turned at the soft jangle of harness to see his twin already unhitching the mare.
“Good morning, Alexander,” he said, “and thank you.”
“Of course,” his brother replied. “I assume your early arrival means you did not sleep well last night?”
“Not particularly, no, but it could have been worse. How did you sleep with the rest of your family in London?”
Alexander chuckled and said, “Surprisingly poorly. One would think that I would sleep better in a quiet house, but I am unused to such silence. I kept waking up and wondering where everyone was.”
George watched as his brother tied Jemma to a post to keep her from wandering and then forked some hay into the appropriate manger. Alexander walked over to take his brother’s arm, and George limped down the smooth path to the side door, up the step, and into a side passageway. From there, it was but a few feet to the drawing room, where he sank down onto a chair near the open window.
Alexander disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared a moment later with glasses of wine, one of which he gave to his brother.
George took a sip and leaned back. He had decided many years ago that he would not fall into the trap of being a drunkard to deal with the pain and disappointment in his life, but he allowed himself at most two glasses of wine per day, which took the edge off of his pain.
“Have you heard anything from London?” he asked.
“Lydia sent me a hasty note that the entire party arrived safely a week ago, and Julia wrote a few days later describing the upcoming arrangements for Queen Victoria’s coronation.”
“Do you wish you were there?” George asked curiously.
“Not at all,” Alexander said fervently, and then he laughed and said, “I would have gone if absolutely necessary, but I am a country man, and the thought of battling through hundreds of thousands of visitors is intimidating.”
“As many as that?” George asked in wonder.
“They think so, yes, thanks to the railways providing ready transportation for so many. Everyone is excited about the new queen, after all. I pray she will have a long and illustrious reign, but I have no desire to be part of the coronation festivities. Given that the Darcys and Bingleys and Matlocks have been in London for the Season, it was reasonable to send Lydia and the children to take part in the excitement. The Darcys will take good care of them.”
“Of course they will,” George agreed and took another sip of wine. In his younger years, before the army, before Waterloo, he would have been as eager to be in London as anyone, but now he had no interest in crowded streets or, worse yet, gun salutes, which would remind him of battle.
“How is young Benjamin?” he asked.
“He is very well, thanks to the generosity of the Darcys. The steward of Longbourn will be retiring soon, and Benjamin, who has been acting as his apprentice, will step into that role.”
“That is generous indeed,” George replied, and he meant it. He had, of course, done the calculations and knew that Benjamin Wickham, age six and twenty, might be his son. Alternatively, he might be Alexander’s son, conceived during the early days of Alexander’s marriage to Lydia. It did not truly matter since Alexander had acted as Benjamin’s father since his birth. George himself would have been a horrible husband to Lydia and was now grateful for his brother’s interference during his attempt to run off with her.
Thus, he had chosen some years ago to ask no questions. He would rather not know the truth – whether son or nephew, Benjamin Wickham was a fine man, and George had no right to demand anything.
“I am very thankful for all you have done for me, you know,” he said in a conversational tone, and Alexander, in the act of lifting his glass to his lips, lowered it and said, “I know, Brother, though I still feel guilty about your injury and…”
“You must not, as I have said many times before,” George interrupted doggedly. “Far better for me to be at peace with God than to be the man I was before, willing to … well, you know what kind of man I was.”
“I am happy that we have had the last twenty years, Brother,” Alexander said solemnly.
“As am I.”
***
Mrs. Bennet’s Bedchamber
Longbourn
“Good morning, Mamma,” Mary Standish said.
Mrs. Bennet, who had been helped out of bed and dressed by her private maid and then installed in a comfortable chair near the open window, turned a confused look at her third daughter, and then her expression cleared and she said, “Good morning, Mary. Is that my tea?”
“It is,” Mary said, carrying a cup of tea, well mixed with honey and milk, into the room and placing it on a small table at her mother’s side. “Anna will bring you a scone in a minute, as they have just come out of the oven.”
“Thank you, my dear,” Mrs. Bennet said and took a sip of her tea. “Now, when will I see my dear Cornelia, Mary?”
Cornelia Standish, the youngest of the Standish children, age eleven, was a blonde, blue-eyed beauty with the looks of her Aunt Jane, and she was quite her Grandmother Bennet’s favorite.
“She is in London, Mamma,” Mary said for at least the tenth time in the last few days, “along with the other children, who are staying with the Darcys. They are taking part in the coronation festivities.”
Mrs. Bennet frowned at her daughter. “Coronation? Is Princess Charlotte now queen, then? Did the Prince Regent, no ... the king?”
She trailed off in obvious confusion, and Mary said kindly, “No, it is Queen Victoria who has been crowned, but you need not worry about that, because here is Anna with your delightfully hot scone.”
“I love scones,” her mother replied happily, and then her face darkened and she said, “I hope that I will be able to have scones after Mr. Bennet dies. I suppose I will have to stay with Jane when Mr. Darcy sells Longbourn, but perhaps she will allow me to have tea and scones for breakfast?”
“I am certain she will,” Mary said kindly. There was no point in telling her mother that Princess Charlotte had died in childbirth twenty years ago, and Mr. Bennet had passed on after a stroke in 1830. Mrs. Bennet would only be distressed for no purpose.
As for Longbourn, well, there was no danger of Mrs. Bennet ever leaving the home of her marriage and widowhood. Elizabeth and her husband had, most graciously, and at considerable expense, arranged for Mr. Malachi Standish to obtain the church living in Meryton so that the Standishes could live at Longbourn and care for the aging matriarch of the Bennet family.
“Anna, will you stay with Mrs. Bennet?” Mary asked the servant girl, which prompted an eager nod. She retreated out of her mother’s chamber, which was formerly a parlor on the main floor of Longbourn, converted when Mrs. Bennet began having trouble climbing the stairs.
Mary made her way toward the kitchen, only to stop when the front door opened to reveal her husband, who smiled at her and said, “Good morning, my dear.”
She smiled in return, her heart full of thanksgiving. Her marriage to her dear Malachi had been subject to its share of struggles, including the death of one of their children shortly after birth, but their sorrows had drawn them together instead of pushing them apart. She was incredibly grateful for their situation in life, and the four living children of their union.
“Good morning,” she replied. “How are the Camden children?”
“They are improving, and our Nephew Wickham is checking on them regularly to ensure that they have all the help they need. Now, my dear, given that the house is moderately quiet with the children in London, would you care to take a few moments to enjoy tea together?”
“I would like that very much, Malachi.”
***
Darcy House
London
Elizabeth Darcy rolled over in her bed and reached a questing hand toward the other side of the bed where her husband ought to be.
That side of the bed was empty, and she cautiously opened her eyes to discover that she was, indeed, alone in her chamber.
The blue curtains in her room did not entirely block out the summer light, and she realized, based on the brightness, that it was far later than she usually woke up. That was no great surprise given the exhaustion of the previous day, but she nonetheless cast aside her blanket and rose hastily to her feet.
Her private maid hurried through the open door of her sitting room and Elizabeth said, “Good morning, Sarah. What time is it?”
“It lacks an hour until noon, Madame.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened, and she said, “Pray help me dress quickly!”
Within twenty minutes, she was dressed for the day, and she made her hasty way down the stairs and into the dining parlor, where she found Lady Anne Matlock calmly eating eggs and bacon and muffins.
“Good morning, Anne,” she said, hurrying over to the buffet to gather her own meal. “I had no intention of sleeping in so late. Obviously, I was more tired than I realized.”
Lady Matlock chuckled and said, “My dear Elizabeth, I do beg you not to worry. I went to bed far earlier than you did, and I just woke up only recently. Yesterday was extremely fatiguing!”
“It was,” Elizabeth agreed, taking a sip of hot chocolate. “Wonderful, of course, but exhausting. Do you know if everyone else has risen from their beds?”
“I am not certain about everyone, but Richard and Fitzwilliam left half an hour ago to deal with something political,” the former Anne de Bourgh said with a wave of her hand. “They did not bother to tell me what, as they know I do not particularly care, but they did tell me they should be back by dinner.”
Elizabeth nodded and began cutting the ham on her plate. She was fascinated by politics, but she well understood Anne’s disinterest in such matters. Anne was never as happy in Town as she was at her beloved Rosings.
“As for the rest of your guests,” Anne continued, “I have no idea whether they have already left the house for Hyde Park or some other amusement or are curled up in bed.”
“I will ask Mrs. Wilkes who is here and who has departed, not that it matter a great deal,” Elizabeth said, “Anne, I know you are not fond of London but now that the queen has been crowned, we should be able to return to the country soon.”
“Yes, and praise God for that,” Anne said with a deep sigh. “Of course I could never regret marrying Richard. Indeed, I am confident he saved my life by first helping me send my mother to the Dower House when I turned thirty and then showing me that much of my ill health was due to my mother’s determination to dose me with laudanum morning, noon, and night. And he gave me my three boys as well. I only wish that Vincent had sired a son!”
Elizabeth nodded solemnly. Vincent, Richard’s older brother, had died five years previously without issue. Richard’s father had died a year after that, leaving Richard as Earl of Matlock, and thus a member of the House of Lords.
“Fitzwilliam and I were too tired to talk much last night about the ceremony,” she remarked, “but he said the coronation at Westminster Abbey was truly an incredible and powerful experience, and that he is glad that he was able to attend as a member of parliament.”
“Do you ever resent Darcy’s decision to enter politics?” Anne asked curiously.
Elizabeth shook her head and forked a bite of buttered egg into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed and said, “No, not at all. Darcy cares a great deal about the people under his care, and he has become more of a reformer with age. Moreover, our Anthony is a clever young man, and he has such a passionate interest in Pemberley that his father and I have far less responsibility nowadays.”
“I am a little anxious about when our Lewis marries,” Anne confided, “but it seems as if you get along very well with Anthony’s Cecilia.”
“She is a delightful woman,” Elizabeth agreed, “and our granddaughter Francesca is a little angel. Or I should say, she is an angel right now, as she is only a year of age. If she has the true Darcy spirit, she will be climbing tables and falling into streams in a few years, but I am enjoying her babyhood.”
Anne laughed and said, “I have more or less forgotten my boys’ antics at that age, but they were little ragamuffins.”
The door opened at this moment to reveal the Darcys’ butler, who said, “Mrs. Darcy, the elder Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner are here.”
“Oh, how lovely!” Elizabeth exclaimed, rising to her feet. “Anne, please finish your meal, and do not feel as if you must join us in the drawing room.”
“I will be there in five minutes,” Lady Matlock declared. “I adore your Gardiner relations. They are far better company than Vincent’s tiresome widow, who is always whining about her jointure and insisting she deserves more money from the Matlock estate.”
Elizabeth grinned, wiped her mouth with a napkin, and hurried off to the drawing room, where her Uncle and Aunt Gardiner, now in their sixties, were waiting.
“Elizabeth, my dear,” Mrs. Gardiner said, walking over to embrace her niece. Elizabeth kissed her on the cheek and then stepped back to carefully inspect Mrs. Gardiner’s face. The woman had been ill six months previously from a bad case of the influenza, and she was relieved to see that Mrs. Gardiner’s cheeks were now rosy with good health.
“I am very glad to see you,” she said simply. “Do sit down and tell me how you are both doing.”
Her aunt and uncle obeyed, and Mr. Gardiner said with twinkling eyes, “We are well enough, though I confess we are partly visiting to escape the noise on Gracechurch Street. Most of our children and their spouses and our grandchildren insisted on visiting London for the Queen’s coronation, and our house is incredibly noisy presently.”
“I can only imagine!” Elizabeth declared. “Darcy House feels rather full at the moment, and we have far more bedchambers than you do, though we could probably fit a few of my cousins here if…”
“No, no,” her aunt interpolated quickly. “That is not necessary, as most of our relations will be leaving in the next few days. Moreover, the house will likely be empty by this afternoon, as most of the young folks wish to visit the Fair at Hyde Park.”
“I understand the Fair is remarkable,” Elizabeth said, “and Fitzwilliam tells me there is to be a balloon ascension at some point, and then later there will be fireworks there and at Green Park. Nonetheless, I am not tempted in the least to travel to either park in such a crush. Such are the challenges of old age.”
“Old age, my dear Lizzy, you are not … oh, Lady Matlock, how good to see you! And my dear Lydia, good morning!”
Anne returned the greeting, and Lydia made her way over to her aunt and kissed her on the cheek. “Dear Aunt Gardiner, I am so happy to finally see you. We have been here four days in London, and we have not laid eyes on one another yet…”
“Mamma?”
Elizabeth turned her attention on her elder daughter, Amelia, who was hovering at the doorway dressed in a pink muslin which went well with her golden blonde hair.
“Yes?” she asked, walking over to join her daughter.
“Mamma, the little boys are very sad that they were not permitted to see the fireworks last night, and I wondered if perhaps we could send up some ices for them to enjoy?”
“I think that would be lovely, my dear,” she said. “You may speak to Mrs. Wilkes and…”
There was a knock at the door, and within a minute, Jane and Charles Bingley had entered along with their younger three children, who had come to play with their Darcy and Wickham cousins.
The rest of the day was a busy one, as the Bingleys with their children, and the Standish children, and Sir Ian and Lady Kitty Ladson, and Lord Andrew and Lady Georgiana Tate, and the Hursts, and even the widowed Lady Caroline Mowatt, and their various offspring, appeared at odd hours throughout the day to drink tea and enjoy comfortable conversation, and to rejoice in the coronation of a new and popular young queen of England.
Dinner was both chaotic and joyful, and while Darcy had returned from his political duties, he and Elizabeth were at opposite ends of a long table. Thus it was not until midnight, when she crawled into bed, and he appeared five minutes later to join her, and she was in his arms, that they were able to speak at length.
“Are you very tired, darling?” Darcy murmured, planting a kiss on her head.
“I am,” she replied, “though also very happy. I tried to count up all of the children and cousins who were here at Darcy House at one time or another, but found myself losing track. There were a great many of them.”
“Well, there were six of our seven, and the Standishes four,” Darcy said.
“Yes, and all of Wickhams’ children except for Benjamin, and the Bingleys five, and Mary’s four, and Kitty’s three…”
She yawned hugely and said, “I have lost track of the numbers again, but I suppose it does not really matter. It has been a wonderful, glorious season of family togetherness, but I confess I am looking forward to returning to Pemberley soon, where we can spend more time together. Do you think we can travel north in the next fortnight?”
Darcy kissed her again and said, “The parliamentary session is over now, and the queen crowned, so, yes, without a doubt, we can go home soon.”
“Home,” Elizabeth repeated drowsily and closed her eyes.
As she drifted off in her husband’s warm embrace, her mind drifted from one memory to another, of their first conversations, of the pursuit of Lydia and George Wickham, of friendship, and courtship, and marriage, of good and bad harvests, of political turmoil, of children, and now grandchildren…
She pressed a little closer to her husband’s reassuring bulk and prayed, “Thank you, Lord God.”
And they both drifted off to sleep.
The End