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R egardless of the memories of her late mother and stepfather, who cared nothing for her, Jane had grown up at Longbourn, so when asked where she would like her wedding to be, she had chosen to marry from that estate.

Betsy’s husband would travel with those coming from Falconwood. As much as they hated being parted, Betsy, as the matron of honour and best friend, would not leave Jane without help before her wedding, and Collins would not leave his parish in the hands of his curate until after Epiphany.

Back at their estate, Elizabeth was concerned.

Since Archy had returned from Ireland, she had noted changes in him, not his character, but physical differences.

One night when she had seen him before he had donned his nightshirt, she had noticed significant weight loss.

When he thought she was not aware, Elizabeth could see he had pains in his belly for which he would imbibe a tonic from a silver flask he kept in a pocket.

She had recently noted a slight yellowing on his skin.

“Archy, why have you lost so much of your heft?” Elizabeth asked a few days before they were to depart for Meryton. “I see other differences as well. You did not think that I, who know you as well as I do myself, would not notice physical changes in you, did you?”

“Lizzy, you know it is not my habit to keep things from you, do you not?” Hertfordshire verified.

She nodded her confirmation.

“I ask for some forbearance until after we travel north. You remember we will depart for Castlemere at the end of February, do you not?”

Elizabeth allowed it was so.

“If I need to speak to you before I will, but you have my solemn vow, I will tell you all as soon as we are settled at the estate in Derbyshire, at the very latest after your very significant birthday upcoming.” Hertfordshire paused and looked into his beloved wife’s magnificent eyes. “You do trust me, do you not?”

“What kind of question is that, Archy? Of course I do. I trust you with my life and those of our children. I will wait until we are at Castlemere, but my patience will not extend beyond the date of my birthday.”

Hertfordshire reiterated his promise to tell her all.

She felt in the pit of her stomach that the subject Archy had to discuss with her was not one with which she would be sanguine.

However, he had requested some more time before sharing, and Elizabeth had agreed; she would not renege on her word.

Nothing good would come of her suppositions and trying to borrow trouble.

All she could do was pray it was not bad news as she feared it was, and he would be well.

“Do not forget we will be taking care of the misguided man who blames others for his own failings,” Hertfordshire reminded his wife.

“It is much easier to blame one’s failings on others. I suppose in Mr Wickham’s mind, or Waterford as he calls himself, if he blames you and others, it absolves him of his culpability.”

“Very true. I am sure it is too painful for him to own that the errors he and his late wife made were direct contributors to his son’s eventual end.

” Hertfordshire paused as he remembered his conversations with Matlock and Darcy on this subject.

“We will all be ready for anything that man and his cohorts attempt.”

“He would have rubbed well with my late birth-mother. She also looked externally for the root of all of her problems; like him it was anyone’s fault but her own. Up until she passed from this world into the next, she thought herself the victim in her story.”

“We can be sure that woman was as insane as the former Lady Catherine is.”

“Is that woman still hiding in her cottage on Yell? Last you mentioned her, she was averse to showing herself in public. I take it she has become used to living without servants other than the woman who comes to prepare meals for her once or twice a week.”

“According to Matlock, yes, she is. I think she has finally recognised her own insignificance.” Archy felt a sharp pain in his belly, but he schooled his features so Lizzy would not see his grimace.

As they did every day, they made their way to the nursery to spend some pleasant time with their children.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

By the time those travelling from Falconwood arrived in the area of Meryton, Jane and Betsy, with the aid of both Mrs Hill and Mrs Nichols, had everything organised.

This included Mr Pierce’s agreement to allow Mr Collins to perform the wedding ceremony.

The long-time rector of the Longbourn Village Church did not begrudge Miss Millar preferring her best friend’s husband to recite the liturgy.

As a wedding present to Jane and Bingley, Elizabeth and Archy had given them use of Cliff House near Ramsgate for their honeymoon. The couple were very excited thanks to the milder climes in the south of the realm.

On the Wednesday before the wedding, Bingley—like he had every day since returning from Falconwood—called on Longbourn, or more precisely, Jane Millar. After he greeted his fiancée and the rest of those present, Bingley turned to Jane. “May we speak in private for a while?” he requested.

Jane’s mind immediately flew to the darkest possible reason she could think of.

He had discovered something she had not disclosed about her past, and he wanted to cry off.

If that was the case, she would release him without complaint, even while her heart was smashed into a million tiny shards.

“I believe the west parlour is unoccupied,” Jane replied while she fought to keep her serene mask in place.

Bingley left the door partially open and led Jane to a settee. Her hopes rose when he sat close to her and took her hands into his own. “I know how much you would miss Mrs Collins if we moved any distance from her and Collins. Is that not so?”

A nod was all Jane could manage as she began to relax. He was obviously not crying off.

“To that end, Hertfordshire referred me to one of his stewards at Falconwood who is always on the lookout for potential property ripe for investment. He told me of two estates for sale in Buckinghamshire. One is about five and twenty miles from Falconwood, but the other is barely seven miles, just the other side of Chesham. I went to see both estates, and besides being closer, Longfield Meadows, the one closer to Falconwood, is a larger, better maintained, and a more profitable estate.” Bingley paused as he looked deeply into her cerulean-coloured eyes.

“I hope I was not too presumptuous, but I purchased Longfield Meadows. It is a little above an hour in a carriage, and less on horseback, to the parsonage in the Falconwood Village.”

“This is the best wedding present you could have gifted me,” Jane gushed as she threw her arms around the dear man’s neck. And there she was worrying he was about to ask to break their engagement. What a silly goose she had been. She owned up to her dark, wrongheaded thoughts.

“Jane Millar, I love you far too much to give you up for any reason.”

The two used their relative privacy to steal some kisses. Afterwards, they put themselves to rights and returned to the drawing room.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

The day of the tenth of January was a cold, but clear day on which the sun was out to bestow its warmth—as much as the weak winter rays succeeded in giving warmth—on the wedding of Jane Millar and Charles Bingley.

William Darcy was standing up with his good friend. An impatient Bingley was waiting for his bride to enter the nave of the church.

Soon enough, Jane entered with an uncle on either side of her.

Betsy, as the matron of honour, walked a few paces behind the bride and her uncles.

Phillips kissed Jane’s cheek on his side and went to join his wife.

Gardiner kissed his niece’s other cheek and then placed her hand onto a waiting Bingley’s forearm.

Soon the couple was standing before Collins, who gave the congregation the signal to be seated. He smiled at the bride and groom and then opened the Book of Common Prayer in his hand. “Dearly beloved, we …”

Before the new Mr and Mrs Bingley could comprehend, they were signing the register. For Jane it was a great relief that she would never have to write or answer to the name Millar ever again. After some time kissing, they joined their family in the nave.

Once family and close friends had conveyed their congratulations to the newlywed Bingleys, the latter couple boarded their closed coach to Longbourn. It was not far, but it was too cold to brave the walk.

Two hours later the newly married Bingleys boarded the Bingley coach for the journey to Bingley’s house on Curzon Street.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

The Chamberlains and their party spent about six weeks after the wedding in London.

On the final Monday of February, a convoy of coaches with above forty outriders, departed London for Derbyshire.

The travellers arrived at their various estates late in the afternoon that Wednesday, something which did not go unnoticed by one Clay Younge, who believed he was, as he had always believed, undetected.

Sure that his brother-in-law would be well pleased with what he gleaned, Younge rode hard for Oak Grange on Friday, the second to last day of February. On arriving at the steward’s cottage, he did not bother to tie his horse’s reins to the post for that purpose and fairly ran into the house.

“Clay, what has you in such a state?” Karen Waterford enquired.

Wickham/Waterford looked up with mild interest. Could it be that the buffoon had finally discovered something useful?

“All of ‘em be ‘ere,” Younge reported excitedly. “I took yer suggestion an’ got friendly-like wif a maid at Pemberley. She tol’s me, they all be excited ‘cause all the families will be at the Darcy estate fir ‘Er Grace’s birfday.