Page 44 of Longbourn’s Son (Pride and Prejudice Variation #22)

Munster, Ireland

The great brown and white horse nickered softly, and Eustace Johnson, freeholder and farmer, patted the beast’s nose affectionately.

He looked out over his horse pasture with great satisfaction; in spite of his common birth, he had managed to build up a productive estate for his sons.

“It is all thanks to you, Thunder,” he commented to the horse, which lowered its head to his shoulder and nibbled gently at his ear. “You have been a fine sire to my mares, and your foals are known across all of Ireland now for their speed and strength, I daresay.”

Thunder nickered softly and then lowered his great head, where he began tearing up great tufts of grass and chewing on them methodically.

Johnson grinned and his gaze shifted thoughtfully to the quiet spot in the corner of the field where the bones of Thunder’s previous owner lay moldering six feet below the surface.

It had been a wild night some twelve years ago when the horse had come into his life, a night filled with lightning and booming thunder and wind and rain.

When Johnson had risen early the next morning to check the damage to his animals and fields, he had discovered the great brown and white horse standing in his back yard, favoring one leg, while a middle aged man lay dead on the ground behind him with one leg still caught in the stirrup.

It had not been difficult to imagine what had happened; no doubt the stranger had been caught in the storm and his horse, spooked by the lightning and crashing, had run away in terror, causing his rider to be unseated and dragged to his death.

The man carried little in the way of identification, though there were two letters which were addressed to him as ‘Williamson’.

Based on his clothing, he was not a native of Ireland.

Based on the lack of calling cards and the man’s unshaven chin, it was unlikely he had relatives or servants who would track him here.

Johnson had prayed over Williamson’s soul, buried the man’s body in the ground, and took Thunder as his own.

With the money on Williamson’s person, Johnson had purchased two fine mares, and with the profit from the resulting foals, expanded his land holdings and wooed his wife, who had now given him three healthy, beautiful children and was expecting a fourth.

It was regrettable that Williamson had met such an unpleasant end, but it was quite convenient of the man to have expired on Johnson’s doorstep.

/

Pemberley

Elizabeth Darcy lifted her eyes to stare out the window toward the manicured south lawn of Pemberley.

She had her own office, of course, but on a day like this one, she preferred to write letters in the cozy sitting room which faced south, where the sun shone brightly on a cool and delightful autumn day.

She smiled as her husband passed by with Rose and Naomi, their eleven year old twin daughters, beside him, with each girl holding one of their father’s hands. The girls were wearing riding-dress, so no doubt Fitzwilliam was escorting them to the stable for their daily riding lesson.

She bent her head down to the empty sheet of paper lying on the desk, dipped the quill into the ink, and began to write.

October 15th, 1826

Dear Georgiana,

We are looking forward to seeing you all here at Pemberley in a month; it has been far too long since we have been with you, Luke, and the children, and of course we have not even met your little Anna yet!

Kitty tells me that she and Samuel and their children will also be able to come north, which is marvelous. We will have a full house at Pemberley in late November! I believe the journey should not be terribly difficult as it will be too early for heavy snow storms.

The children have recovered entirely from their bout with measles in June.

As you know the twins had it the worst, though the boys were also quite ill.

Naomi was quite worn out until about a month ago, but has now, by the grace of God, recovered her usual stamina.

It is a great relief to have them all running around vigorously again.

Mary and her husband moved into the parsonage at Kympton four weeks ago. I have not seen much of Mary and her family in many years, and having them close by is a true pleasure. Mary’s husband...

“Mama?”

Elizabeth looked up to observe her eldest son, thirteen year old Alexander, standing in the doorway of the sitting room.

“Yes?”

“Mama, can you help me with this mathematics problem?”

Elizabeth gestured for her firstborn to come closer. “I can try, my dear, though you know your father is better at such things than I am.”

“I know, but he is with the twins in the stables, and I really wish to complete this problem.”

Elizabeth shifted to one side, and her son, who was already taller than she was, placed a paper in front of her.

She frowned at it for a moment and then realized, to her great relief, that she knew how to solve the problem.

Thankfully, Alexander was a quick study, and with only a few sentences of explanation, he had conquered it.

“Thank you, Mama.”

“You are very welcome, my dear.”

She turned back to her letter and began writing again:

Mary’s husband, the Reverend Allen Parfitt, is such a passionate soul, with a special heart for the injured and dispossessed.

He and Fitzwilliam have spoken twice already about how we can assist some of the soldiers who have been discharged from the army in the last years.

Some of them, of course, were badly injured in battle.

Allen worked extensively with military men during his time in Brighton, and wishes to continue serving in such a capacity.

I know you are more acquainted with him than we are since they have visited Netherfield many times.

“Mama!”

Elizabeth turned around again and then jumped to her feet in surprise.

Her two youngest sons, ages six and three, were standing a few feet inside the room, regarding her uneasily.

The cause of their apprehension was obvious enough; both boys were copiously smeared with paint which had colored their skin and garments with a vibrant range of colors.

“Gabriel and Caleb, how did you get all messy?” she inquired, trying to look disapproving though she was tempted to laugh. Really, they did look too funny!

“We pay wit Nomi’s an’ Wose’s paints!” little Caleb declared, and promptly wiped his messy hands on his face, turning his plump cheeks green.

“My darlings, you are not supposed to play with the twins’ paints,” Elizabeth began, and then broke off as a pair of nursemaids rushed into the room and froze with matching expressions of horror.

“Oh, Mrs. Darcy,” the older of the two exclaimed. “We are so very sorry. I thought both boys were lying down for their naps, and they must have crept away!”

“It looks like water paints, fortunately,” Elizabeth said in amusement, “and thus there is likely no great harm done. I think they both need a bath right away, however.”

“Yes, Madam!” both girls said meekly, and promptly captured the small Darcy boys and carried them away, in spite of the little ones’ cries of outrage.

Elizabeth shook her head and sat back down on her chair.

Her dear husband would no doubt say that it was her fault that their two smallest children were such busy little terrors.

It was true enough that the Bennet line had produced its share of daredevil children and grandchildren who enjoyed climbing trees, riding horses, and yes, painting themselves.

With a soft sigh, she turned back to her letter again. Part of being a mother was frequent interruptions.

Richard and Jane intend to come for a few weeks while you are here.

The situation at Snowden is challenging for them all; Lord and Lady Matlock are both devastated at the loss of Gregory in that dreadful boating accident.

Now that Richard is the heir to the earldom, it would be wise for him to live at Snowden to learn to oversee the estate.

Lord Matlock is struggling with it; Gregory was such a quiet man and not inclined to argue with his father.

Richard, as a former commander of men, cannot stay silent when he considers something amiss.

Jane hopes they can stay at Snowden, but if there is too much friction, they may lease an estate nearby.

Sadly, your uncle Matlock’s health is obviously deteriorating.

By the time this letter arrives, Father and Louisa and their family should be back at Longbourn.

They left yesterday morning, and our children were sobbing copiously as their aunts and uncles were swept away by carriage.

It is quite amusing that our Alexander and the twins are older than my father’s youngest children!

At any rate, they had a wonderful time here.

Father spent a great deal of time in the library, and Louisa and I enjoyed many lively conversations.

I thank God often for bringing her into our lives.

Frantic barking interrupted Elizabeth’s writing once again.

She looked up as a litter of spaniel puppies raced across the lawn with several excited male servants in pursuit.

She laughed aloud and watched as the puppies ducked and weaved and barked and jumped until they had all been rounded up to be escorted back to the kennel, then turned back to her letter.

You asked about the former Caroline Bingley, now Lady Sedgewick.

For now she and her son are living with Charles and Charlotte Bingley after the death of her husband.

She brought the boy on a visit here last week; he is a quiet boy of six years – too quiet, in my estimation.

Lady Sedgewick has not spoken openly to me about her marriage, but it was not a happy union.

She has altered since her marriage, but she can still be tiresomely supercilious.

I am grateful that the Bingleys have taken her in.

Charlotte is really a miracle worker; she has a great deal of patience, but she does not allow anyone to pressure her into doing something she does not wish to do.

I really must finish this letter, Georgiana, before there is another interruption.

We love you very much and are counting the days until your family arrives here at Pemberley.

It will be a marvelous reunion of Bennet siblings past and present, as all but Lydia will be here.

She is too close to her time to journey north, and she and Viscount Salisbury will stay with his parents in their London house.

With much love,

Elizabeth

Hastily, before she could be interrupted again, she sanded the letter, folded it, sealed it, and addressed it. It would go out in the next mail.

Heavy footsteps warned her of another intruder, and she turned to look up at her husband, whose smile awoke a familiar burst of love in her heart.

He had aged, of course, in the fourteen years since their marriage, and his dark hair was now flecked with early gray, but it only made him look more distinguished in her eyes.

“You are finished with your letter?” he asked.

“Yes, at last, through countless interruptions,” Elizabeth said with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Excellent. The twins will be busy for the next two hours with their riding lesson, Alexander is with his tutor, and the little boys are safely under the care of their nursemaids.”

“And?” Elizabeth asked with an arch smile.

“Perhaps my lady would enjoy walking the grounds with me for the next hour?”

“Your lady would be delighted.”

The End