Page 24 of More Than You Know (The Love Conquers Pride #3)

July 1814, Derbyshire

I t was a glorious summer day at Pemberley, the sky a brilliant expanse of blue with only the faintest wisps of clouds drifting overhead. The estate thrummed with activity, both inside and out. Servants bustled about the manor house, carrying linens and polishing silver, their hurried footsteps echoing through the halls. Amid the carefully maintained grounds, gardeners trimmed hedges and tended to the blooming flowers, while the distant murmur of voices carried on the warm breeze. The house, dormant for two years, was awakening at last.

Elizabeth Darcy moved briskly through the entrance hall, pausing only to direct a footman to carry a chest up to the master chambers. A sense of anticipation coursed through her as she oversaw the remaining tasks of reopening the house. Entering one of the front rooms to speak to Mrs Reynolds about the evening’s arrangements, something beyond the window caught her eye—the glint of polished wood as a carriage wound its way down the long drive.

Her heart leapt. Without a second thought, she lifted the hem of her gown and hurried from the room, her footsteps echoing lightly on the marble floors. Bursting through the great oak doors, she descended the stone steps, laughter already rising in her throat.

The carriage rumbled closer, its wheels crunching over the gravel. As the coachman pulled the horses to a halt, Elizabeth’s breath quickened. A moment later the door swung open, and one of the dearest faces in her world emerged, radiant and smiling.

“Jane!” Elizabeth called, her voice bright with joy.

“Oh, my dearest Lizzy!” Jane exclaimed, her eyes shining as she carefully stepped down. “I cannot believe it has been above two years since I have heard your voice, and yet looking at you now, it feels as if no time has passed at all!”

Elizabeth let out a breathless laugh, gathering her sister in a tight embrace. “I must beg to differ, Sister. In fact, a great many things have changed,” she teased, her gaze drifting pointedly to Jane’s gently rounded belly.

Her sister flushed, one hand resting protectively over the small swell. “Oh, you must not tease me so, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth’s smile only widened as she turned towards the carriage, peering inside expectantly. “But where is my namesake? Do not tell me you have come without her!”

Jane released a wry chuckle. “I knew you would chide me for that. But little Eliza is teething and has not been sleeping well, so I thought it best to leave her at home with Nanny.” She levelled her sister with a pointed look. “Now, Lizzy, do not pout! You will have ample opportunity to see her, now that we are to be practically neighbours.”

“Oh, very well,” Elizabeth replied, slipping her arm through Jane’s. “Come inside. You must be fatigued, and this heat will do you no favours. I shall have tea brought immediately.”

They ascended the steps together, Elizabeth guiding her sister through the bustling entrance hall. Navigating the pleasant chaos, Elizabeth led Jane along a side corridor into a smaller, sunlit parlour. The room offered a peaceful reprieve from the household commotion, its tall windows open to invite in the summer breeze.

Crossing to the bell pull, Elizabeth gave it a light tug. “We shall have tea here, I think, as the drawing room is still under dust sheets. Then you must tell me everything I have missed!”

Jane smiled fondly, lowering herself into a chair. “Only if you promise to tell me all about Dublin—every last detail. But first, how is your husband? I know you have been cautious about putting too much in your letters, and Charles and I have been desperate for news.”

Settling across from her sister, Elizabeth met her gaze with quiet affection, her thoughts drifting back to those early days in Dublin and their arrival at Dr Doyle’s offices.

The memory unfolded vividly. How heavily the stigma surrounding Fitzwilliam’s condition had weighed on him when they arrived—the fear of public scorn ever present. But Dr Doyle, enlightened in his studies, had provided a different perspective. He spoke not of madness but of management—helping her husband to discern the warning signs of an impending attack, avoid overexertion and anxiety, and embrace habits that might lessen the frequency and severity of his convulsions.

Elizabeth remembered the cautious hope that had begun to kindle in him as he absorbed this knowledge. The understanding that epilepsy was a disease, not a reflection of his character or worth, began to lift the shadow that had long hovered over him. For the first time, he had seen a path forwards—not a cure, perhaps, but a way to live without fear and shame dominating his every decision.

What pleased Elizabeth most, however, was how this understanding had emboldened him to be more open with those dearest to him. Before long, he had given Dr Harper—by then a trusted friend—leave to disclose his diagnosis to Jane, her husband, and the Gardiners, and had directed Colonel Fitzwilliam to confide in those among his family whose discretion he could trust.

This quiet act of faith marked a profound shift in how her husband perceived his own value, and the knowledge that he no longer concealed an essential part of himself from those he loved filled Elizabeth with unutterable joy.

Her smile deepened as she returned her focus to Jane, saying, “He is well, truly. His time in Dublin has done him much good. I promise we shall tell you and Charles everything we have learned at dinner tonight…that is, if you have been able to persuade your husband to abandon his horses for an evening!”

Jane laughed lightly at Elizabeth’s jest, before saying, “He will be here, I assure you. He would have come with me this morning if we did not have a mare about to foal.”

They were briefly interrupted then as tea was brought in, and Elizabeth graciously turned hostess, directing the footman with quiet ease. Once the tea was poured and the silver tray removed, she settled back into her seat, cradling the cup between her palms. But when she looked up, she was startled to see tears in her sister’s eyes.

“Oh, Lizzy, forgive me. It is just so wonderful to see you! I can scarcely believe we are sitting here together, having tea! Charles and I were both quite astonished to receive your express, saying that you had already arrived in Liverpool!”

“I know,” Elizabeth answered, with an arch smile. “Poor Mrs Reynolds has apologized at least half a dozen times for not having the house ready for us, though we have told her repeatedly that she is blameless—considering that we arrived six weeks before we originally intended!”

Jane’s expression turned thoughtful “And Georgiana? How is she faring after leaving Captain Spencer behind? It must have been difficult, especially so soon after their engagement.”

Elizabeth sighed. “It was not easy, no. But she has such a generous spirit, when she learned…that is, when Fitzwilliam explained the difficulties he was facing overseeing everything here, now that the Walshes have gone to Hertfordshire, she readily agreed to indulge him and leave earlier than planned.”

Jane nodded, and Elizabeth absently stirred her tea as her thoughts wandered. What was meant to be a brief sojourn in Ireland—no more than half a year to consult with Dr Doyle regarding Fitzwilliam’s health—had stretched far beyond their original intentions. And it was no secret that it was for Georgiana’s sake that her husband had continued to delay their departure.

In those early months in Dublin, Georgiana had met Captain Edward Spencer, the second son of an earl, at a musical salon. Elizabeth could still recall the way her newest sister’s eyes had brightened upon their first introduction and the hesitant yet eager dialogue that passed between them after the performance. What began as a shy acquaintance had soon blossomed into deep and abiding affection. Darcy, ever protective, had made discreet enquiries, but to everyone’s delight, the gentleman proved to be of good family, sound character, and steady temperament. Once assured of his sister’s happiness, the decision to prolong their stay had been an easy one.

“And where is Georgiana now?” Jane asked, drawing Elizabeth from her musings. “I was so looking forward to seeing her.”

“Oh! Did I not say? She returned to London with Colonel Fitzwilliam. She and Mrs Annesley are to visit the warehouses so that Georgiana might purchase the remainder of her wedding clothes—though I can scarcely imagine what more she could need after the multitude of gowns she acquired in Dublin!”

Jane laughed softly, helping herself to another iced cake, as Elizabeth’s gaze drifted to the open windows. In Pemberley’s vast gardens, roses in full bloom swayed gently in the breeze, and butterflies flitted amongst the foxgloves and sweet Williams.

Inhaling the fragrant scent of freshly cut grass, she returned her attention to Jane, saying lightly, “Speaking of new sisters, do you see much of Miss Bingley—forgive me, Lady Ashcombe? You wrote that she and her husband scarcely leave Scarborough these days.”

Jane sipped her tea, answering with a single nod. “Yes, though she seems quite content with country life. She continues to keep herself busy with the renovation of the house, and now of course there are the children. Charles and I spent Christmas with them last year, and you would be surprised to see the change in her! She was a most gracious hostess, and she simply dotes on her husband. Charles said she is happier—and kinder—than he has ever known her to be.”

Elizabeth smiled, though her attention was momentarily diverted by the sight of a gardener walking past the windows carrying a large basket of freshly cut blooms. When she turned back to face her sister, she found Jane smiling at her with dry amusement.

“Lizzy, would you like to go for a walk?”

Elizabeth’s cheeks heated under her sister’s knowing gaze, and she released a quiet chuckle.

“Was I that obvious?” At Jane’s nod, she continued, “In truth, I have been longing to take a turn about the gardens. I have scarcely left the house since we arrived yesterday afternoon. But I did not think…that is, I would not have you walking out in this heat, in your condition…”

To Elizabeth’s surprise, Jane laughed. “And what do you imagine I do all day at home, Lizzy? Lie about while the world passes me by?” At Elizabeth’s guilty flush she continued, “In truth, a walk will do me good, and the weather is still quite tolerable. Come,” she added, setting down her teacup, “let us go out.”

The sisters rose and made their way into the gardens, where the summer sunshine enveloped them in its golden embrace. The breeze carried the heady fragrance of blooming roses, mingling with the sweet scent of honeysuckle. Bees droned lazily amongst the blossoms, and the rustle of leaves added a soothing melody into the tranquillity of the afternoon.

They strolled along the gravel paths, passing neatly trimmed hedges and flowerbeds bursting with colour. In time, they came upon a secluded bench nestled beneath the outstretched boughs of an ancient oak, offering a serene view of the lake shimmering in the distance. Settling there, they breathed in the fresh air, basking in the peacefulness of the moment.

At length, Elizabeth turned to ask after the Gardiners, and Jane gazed back at her with a genuine smile.

“They are all well, and Mary seems to be flourishing. She is working with a music master, and my aunt has even persuaded her to purchase some new gowns that are far more flattering to her figure. Indeed, now that she has the opportunity to mix more in society, and is not constantly being compared to the rest of us and found wanting, I have every hope that she will soon be happily settled.”

Elizabeth nodded her agreement. “I am so glad you were able to persuade her to go. I know it was not easy to convince her to leave Longbourn, especially as she has never been fond of London.”

“Yes, that is true. However, that first year after you left was difficult for Mary, what with Mama constantly berating her for refusing Mr Collins. Though for my part, I am very glad she did! I cannot think even Mary would have been happy with such a gentleman.”

“Having heard the particulars of his proposal from Mary, I must agree,” Elizabeth replied. “It is a wonder he was able to secure a wife at all, though I suppose the promise of one day being mistress of Longbourn could not have hurt his cause.”

“No, I suppose not. Still, it seems that he did have to rely upon his benefactress to secure the match.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Lady Catherine? What had she to do with it?”

“Oh, did you not know? Apparently, she was most seriously displeased when our cousin returned to Kent and had to admit that he had been rejected not once but twice in a matter of days! I was sure you would have heard of it.”

“No. Fitzwilliam has ceased all communication with his aunt. He cut her off entirely after that scene she made before our wedding, demanding he break off his engagement to me and marry Anne.” Elizabeth paused before saying, “But what did you mean when you said that Mr Collins had been twice rejected? Did he offer for Kitty or Lydia after Mary refused him? I cannot think Mama would have neglected to mention it if he had.”

To Elizabeth’s surprise, Jane’s lips curved into a most uncharacteristically sly smile. “No, it is even worse than that. He offered for Charlotte! The day after Mary turned him down. Can you believe the temerity?”

“What?” Elizabeth gasped. “Charlotte never mentioned anything about it! Mama must have been beside herself.”

“She did not know! Nobody did. Charlotte did not tell a soul. She felt it would embarrass Mary and upset everyone involved, so she kept the matter to herself. I only found out about it recently, when we had them to dinner before they left for Hertfordshire, and she let something slip. In any case, once Mr Collins returned to Kent and told his patroness all, Lady Catherine was forced to secure a match with someone from the local parish, lest he bungle things for the third time.”

Elizabeth laughed lightly before saying, “How is Charlotte, by the way? She has only written once since settling in Hertfordshire, but she seemed genuinely pleased with her new home. I still cannot believe that she and Mr Walsh have let Netherfield!”

“Nor can I! Though I suppose it makes a certain kind of sense. Once Mr Walsh had determined to lease an estate, he was eager to find something convenient to town and within easy distance of Charlotte’s family—and his in Bedfordshire. So, Netherfield suited perfectly. And Charlotte has taken to the house splendidly—you know how practical she is. She has already overseen several improvements to the principal rooms and gardens.”

Elizabeth nodded, yet her mind had already begun to drift elsewhere. After a thoughtful pause, she spoke. “I have been considering something—what would you think if I invited Kitty to stay at Pemberley for a time? She has sounded quite melancholy in her recent letters, and I cannot help but feel she would benefit from some distance from Lydia. Perhaps the Gardiners might bring her when they travel here with Mary later in the summer.”

To Elizabeth’s delight, Jane readily approved of the idea, even suggesting that Kitty might stay with them should she ever prove too much for the Darcys to manage.

The sisters fell into a comfortable silence, each savouring the tranquillity of a summer afternoon. Elizabeth allowed her gaze to wander, drinking in the vivid colours on display around her and watching a pair of butterflies dance idly amidst the lavender.

Suddenly, something beyond the stone wall caught her eye—the familiar glint of pale golden-green berries. She sat upright, eyes alight. “Jane, look!” she cried, rising swiftly to her feet and crossing the lawn at a hurried pace. “Gooseberries!”

Without hesitation, Elizabeth rose onto her toes, reaching for a branch heavy with newly ripe fruit spilling over the low wall. Turning back triumphantly, she held up the cluster with a broad smile.

Jane, however, remained rooted to the spot, wide-eyed—not at the berries, but at something else entirely.

“Elizabeth Bennet Darcy!” She gasped, climbing to her feet and striding towards her sister, her sharp eyes scanning Elizabeth’s form. “Are you… Are you expecting ?” she finished in an eager whisper.

Heat rushed to Elizabeth’s cheeks, a startled laugh escaping her lips. “I am,” she admitted, her eyes shining. “I did not think it noticeable yet, but I suppose the time has come to commission some new gowns,” she added with a low chuckle.

Jane reached out, squeezing her hand. “Oh, Lizzy, how wonderful!”

“Yes, but you must promise to keep this between us, at least for now. No one knows yet—save Georgiana. We had to tell her, to explain our desire to leave Ireland sooner than planned.”

Jane nodded knowingly. “So that explains why you travelled home with such haste.”

Elizabeth laughed lightly. “Indeed. I assured Fitzwilliam there was no need to hurry, as we still have many months before the baby arrives, but he would not hear of it. He was quite determined that our child—and heir—be born at Pemberley.”

Jane smiled, but Elizabeth’s thoughts turned inwards. It had not taken her husband long to abandon his firm stance against having children. Yet despite their shared longing and countless hopeful attempts, no child had come. Fitzwilliam, naturally, had blamed himself—convinced that his condition was at fault. They had nearly resigned themselves to a quiet life together when, to Elizabeth’s astonishment, after nearly two years of marriage, she had finally conceived.

Her hand instinctively rested on her slightly rounded stomach, a quiet joy settling over her. She looked back at Jane and smiled, certain that this secret, for now, was perfectly safe in her sister’s keeping.

It was then that Elizabeth heard it—a deep baritone that was unmistakably her husband’s, drifting towards them on the breeze.

Turning, she spotted Fitzwilliam standing tall by the glittering lake, engaged in conversation with one of the gardeners. Beyond him, Pemberley’s high, wooded hills stretched endlessly into the distance. The sunlight cast a golden glow upon him, illuminating the strength in his posture and the easy confidence in his gestures. Her heart gave a leap at the sight.

Noticing the warmth in Elizabeth’s gaze, Jane took the sprig of berries, turning away with a knowing smile. “I think I shall return to the house. The walk has left me rather tired.”

Elizabeth squeezed her sister’s hand. “Of course. Go and rest, dearest.”

As Jane departed, Elizabeth gathered her skirts and set off in the direction of her husband, her steps quickening with anticipation. She wove her way through the gardens, past bowers of roses and hedges alive with colour, the breeze stirring the petals in her wake.

Darcy looked up as she approached, and a slow smile broke across his face, filling her with a sudden, inexplicable joy. Without hesitation, she closed the distance between them, falling into the familiar haven of his embrace.

Held securely in his arms, Elizabeth felt a profound sense of contentment—a quiet certainty that this was where she was meant to be. Their journey had not been without its struggles, but every step had led them here, to this moment, this life they were building together.

Resting her head against his chest, Elizabeth breathed deeply, the scent of summer flowers mingling with the warmth of the man she loved.

Whatever joys and trials lay ahead, she knew they would face them together. And for Elizabeth Darcy, that was more than enough.

It was everything.

The End