Page 39 of Mission to Meryton (Pride and Prejudice Variation #25)
Paris, France
George Wickham boldly stepped close to the French viscomte and his partner. “I believe that this next dance is mine, is it not, Madame?”
Lydia Wickham laughed and nodded as she folded the fan which she had been using to cool herself in the heated ballroom of the Duc of Hertzog.
“Many thanks for a most delightful dance, sir,” she said in perfect French to her previous partner, who was smiling at her with a slightly dazed expression on his face.
“It was my honor, Madame Wickham.”
She curtsied and happily stepped onto the dance floor and into her beloved husband’s arms. The waltz tune began, and the couple began swirling around the floor in perfect rhythm.
“I believe you have made another conquest, my love,” Wickham murmured into his wife’s ear.
“Of course I have,” Lydia returned softly, swaying with the music. “Most of the Parisian ladies of the upper classes are so artificial, and as we all know, I am always genuine, sometimes to the point of being boisterous.”
“You are also the most beautiful woman in attendance tonight,” her besotted husband murmured.
Even now, a full year after his marriage to the former Miss Lydia Bennet, he could hardly believe that he had been fortunate enough to win the lady’s hand in marriage.
Indeed, Mrs. Bennet had been quite unhappy that her youngest was throwing herself away on a mere steward’s son, but Lydia, while much improved in behavior, was still a remarkably stubborn young woman and had declared that if she could not marry Wickham, she would marry no one.
Given that ultimatum, Mrs. Bennet had reluctantly agreed.
“I was able to speak to my superior in the Foreign Office only a few hours ago,” he continued softly.
For a moment, Lydia’s grip tightened around his arm and then she relaxed. “What did he say?”
“He is giving me leave until at least after the baby comes, my darling. We will be off to Pemberley at Darcy’s invitation in a few short weeks, as soon as my replacement arrives from London.”
Lydia felt an odd desire to burst into tears, which was no doubt a product of her own interesting condition. “I am so glad, George!”
“Are you?” her husband asked anxiously. “You will not be bored at Pemberley after the excitement of the last year in London and Paris?”
“Pemberley is wonderful, George, as you well know, and while I am thankfully not very ill, I am exhausted much of the time. I am entirely ready for some rest and relaxation. Will you find Derbyshire dull?”
“I can never find life dull when you are with me, Lydia.”
Lydia grinned up into his face. “That is a most acceptable answer.”
/
Pemberley, Derbyshire
September, 1816
Elizabeth Darcy sat in her favorite sitting room, which faced the northern hills, with a feeling of deep, abiding satisfaction.
For the first time in many years, all of the former Bennet daughters were together in one place.
Jane and Bingley had arrived the previous evening from Hertfordshire with their three children and Mr. and Mrs. Bennet.
Mr. Bennet was currently ensconced happily in the library, inspecting Mr. Darcy’s latest literary acquisitions.
Mrs. Bennet was in the conservatory with Mary Fitzwilliam, discussing the latest horticultural triumphs to emanate from the Darcy tulip beds.
Jane and Charles Bingley were walking along the trout stream with their exuberant children, all of whom were eager for exercise after being in a carriage for several days on end.
Lydia was probably napping; she was now six months along in her first pregnancy, and based on her size, Mrs. Wickham was either carrying a large baby or twins.
Mr. Wickham might well be resting too; after years of working for the British government under dangerous and difficult circumstances, he was greatly fatigued, though more mentally than physically.
Kitty Bennet, the only yet unmarried Bennet sister, was in the art studio, no doubt discussing watercolors or oils with Georgiana Darcy.
Both girls had entered society the previous year, and while each had been pursued with great enthusiasm by members of the gentry, neither had chosen to accept an offer of marriage yet.
Elizabeth, with the aid of experience, was quite certain that Kitty was actually in love with a certain Mr. Jones, himself an artist of great skill, but the fourth Bennet daughter wished to be quite certain of her feelings before encouraging the man.
The door opened and Elizabeth looked up with a fond smile. As impossible as it might seem, Fitzwilliam Darcy had grown even more handsome with age.
“How are you feeling, Elizabeth?” Darcy inquired with some anxiety, sitting down next to his beloved wife.
She patted his leg reassuringly. “I am well, my dear. This cooler weather is a great relief, and my nausea is largely gone.”
He nodded and kissed her gently on the lips.
After the birth of their son, Timothy, more than two years had passed before Elizabeth conceived again.
Now she was some four months pregnant with another baby, and Darcy was filled with his usual mix of excitement about the pregnancy and his fears for Elizabeth’s well being.
At least the cool of autumn had come, which was a great blessing to everyone, but especially the pregnant women in the house.
In addition to Lydia and Elizabeth, Mary Fitzwilliam was also expecting a child.
There would be many new little ones joining the family by the end of the year.
“An express just arrived from the Fitzroys,” Darcy commented. “The Fitzroys and their children are on their way and should arrive within the next two days.”
“Is Lady Catherine accompanying them?” Elizabeth inquired with mild trepidation. Darcy’s aunt had been repeatedly stymied by the calm determination of her son in law and daughter, but that did not mean that she had mellowed in the years since she had lost control of Rosings.
“She is not,” Darcy said firmly, “which is a blessing. I did not look forward to my aunt arguing incessantly with everyone.”
“I merely hope she will not wreak havoc on Rosings while Anne and Evan are here.”
“She will not be able to. Fitzroy has hired a very diligent steward to oversee the estate, and the Collinses know that Lady Catherine is not permitted to make changes apart from Anne’s wishes.
Lady Catherine is still outraged that the estate is housing and supporting injured sailors, but she can do nothing about it. ”
“I will confess that when Charlotte accepted Mr. Collins’s offer, I doubted that they would be happy, but it has been a very successful marriage,” Elizabeth admitted.
Darcy wrapped an arm around his wife, relishing the feeling of her curls against his cheek. “As we have said before, the trauma he experienced when threatened with death seems to have changed Mr. Collins.”
Elizabeth nodded her head decidedly. “That is very true, my dear, and I cannot fault him for it. We have both of us been blessed to live safe and secure lives compared to Richard Fitzwilliam, Mrs. Younge, George Wickham, and even Mr. Collins, who was threatened with stabbing during the attempted theft of the tulips. Danger and terror change men … and women.”
“They do,” Darcy agreed, his eyes distant.
Richard Fitzwilliam was now a happily married husband and father, but Darcy knew that his cousin was still plagued with the occasional nightmare, and his body would never entirely recover from the wounds of battle.
He rather doubted that Richard would ever wish to live in London again; fortunately, his wife was perfectly content to live in a small house on Pemberley land, only half a mile from the mansion itself.
“We are doing what we can,” his wife said comfortingly, “not just for Richard but also for George Wickham and for other soldiers and sailors who have come through the wars and need assistance in reintegrating into English society. I suspect that for both the Darcys of Pemberley and the Fitzroys of Rosings, our greatest legacy will be helping such individuals.”
He gazed down at her now with gratitude that God had given him such a wife, who was willing to set aside her own comfort and luxury to oversee the estate, be a loving wife and mother, and to support expenditures to serve members of the army who needed a season of rest away from London.
“I love you, Elizabeth,” he murmured, leaning over to kiss her.
She returned his kiss passionately, and was slightly short of breath as she replied. “I love you too, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
The End
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