Page 33 of Mr. Darcy and the Mysterious “Miss B”
Two Years Later, Longbourn
E lizabeth sat in the familiar drawing room at Longbourn, bouncing her infant son on her lap as afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows.
Little Thomas gurgled contentedly, his dark eyes—so like his father’s—studying the dancing motes of dust with fascination.
Through the window, she could see Darcy and Uncle Morton engaged in earnest conversation near the rose garden, their heads bent over what appeared to be papers of some importance.
“Lizzy!” Lydia burst through the door, her face alight with excitement. “I have the most wonderful secret, but you must promise not to tell a soul!”
Elizabeth shifted Thomas to her other arm, smiling at her sister’s enthusiasm. At nineteen, Lydia had blossomed into a lovely young woman, her natural vivacity tempered by the maturity that grief and experience had brought. “What is it, dearest?”
“Georgiana has just written to me,” Lydia said, settling into the chair beside Elizabeth with obvious delight. “Mr Quinn has proposed to her! Can you imagine? They are to be married in the spring! Of course, he has to first speak to Mr Darcy which he will do next time you are in London.”
“Oh, how wonderful!” Elizabeth exclaimed, then caught herself. “Though Lydia, you ought not to have told me if it was meant to be kept secret. I cannot keep such news from Darcy.”
“I know I ought not to have said anything,” Lydia admitted, though her excitement remained undimmed. “But I am so happy for Georgiana! They will make such a lovely couple. And perhaps,” she added with a meaningful look, “seeing another wedding will inspire Mr Thomas to make his intentions known.”
Elizabeth smiled knowingly. For the past several months, Lydia had been receiving regular visits from Mr Edward Thomas, a young solicitor who worked alongside Uncle Phillips.
The gentleman’s growing attachment to her sister was evident to all who observed them together, and Elizabeth suspected it would not be long before another Bennet daughter was engaged.
“Mr Thomas seems quite taken with you,” Elizabeth observed. “I have noticed how his eyes follow you whenever you are in company.”
“Do you think so?” Lydia’s cheeks glowed with pleasure. “I confess, I am rather fond of him as well. He is so intelligent, so kind. Nothing like the silly officers I once thought so charming.”
Elizabeth thought of how much her youngest sister had changed since their father’s death.
The flighty, impulsive girl had grown into a thoughtful young woman who valued substance over superficial attractions.
Mary had married a prosperous merchant in Devon, whilst Kitty had become the wife of a clergyman—the very clergyman who now held the living at Kympton that Wickham had once coveted.
As for Wickham himself, he had been arrested for fraud several months after his encounter with Elizabeth and was currently serving a lengthy sentence in jail.
“If Mr Quinn establishes himself in London,” Lydia continued, “Georgiana and I shall be able to see each other regularly. Would that not be wonderful? Perhaps our husbands might even work together in some capacity, so we could live near each other.”
Little Thomas began to fuss, and Lydia reached for him. “May I hold him for a moment?”
As Lydia cuddled the baby, her expression grew tender. “He has Papa’s eyes, does he not?”
“I have noticed it as well,” Elizabeth replied. “I am so glad Darcy agreed to name him Thomas. I had always hoped to honour Papa in such a way.”
“I had the same thought,” Lydia said with a laugh. “Though given that Mr Thomas and I… well, Thomas Thomas would hardly do for a name, would it?”
They shared a moment of gentle laughter before Lydia turned to her, a darkness falling over her face. “I miss Papa terribly, Lizzy. Hardly a day passes that I do not think of him.”
“I know, dearest. But I believe he is watching over us somehow. He would be so proud to see how well we have all settled, how happy Mama has become.”
Indeed, Mrs Bennet had surprised them all with her resilience.
After Uncle Morton had moved into Longbourn to help manage the estate, there had been whispered speculation about a possible romance between the widow and the elderly gentleman.
Mrs Bennet had put such rumours to rest, declaring that she would never consider another husband but was grateful for Uncle Morton’s brotherly care.
“What do you suppose they are discussing out there?” Lydia asked, nodding towards the window where the three men remained in earnest conversation.
“Something to do with the estate, I believe. Perhaps the entailment.”
For two years, Darcy and Bingley had been attempting to negotiate with James Morton to break the entailment on Longbourn.
Each time they had agreed upon a sum—always far more than the estate was worth—James had raised his demands.
The situation had seemed hopeless until a riding accident four months ago had claimed James’s life, leaving them to locate the next heir.
“Now that James is gone, surely things will be different?” Lydia asked.
“One would hope so. They have found the next heir—a Mr Collins, some distant relation. Perhaps he will prove more reasonable.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of footsteps, and Uncle Morton entered the room, his weathered face creasing into a smile at the sight of little Thomas.
“There is my grandnephew,” he said, reaching for the baby with practiced ease. “How your dear Papa would have loved to meet this little fellow. To say nothing of that beautiful granddaughter that Jane and Bingley welcomed.”
Elizabeth’s heart warmed at the mention of her newest niece. Jane had delivered a healthy daughter just two months ago, and both mother and child were thriving at the estate near Pemberley that Bingley had purchased to be close to family.
“Uncle Morton,” Darcy said, appearing in the doorway. “Might we speak with the ladies? We have news to share.”
Once they were all assembled, Darcy cleared his throat. “We have reached an agreement with Mr Collins regarding the entailment. He has accepted our offer to break it entirely. Longbourn will belong to the family in perpetuity.”
Elizabeth gasped, tears springing to her eyes. “Truly?”
“Truly. Your mother may remain here as long as she wishes, and the property will pass to whichever of her daughters chooses to inherit it.”
“Mama will be so relieved,” Elizabeth said. “She has worried constantly about being forced to leave her home.”
Later, as evening approached, Darcy and Elizabeth walked together through the gardens where they had first begun to know each other properly. The rose bushes were dormant now, but Elizabeth could still remember the summer afternoons they had spent here during their courtship.
“You seem thoughtful,” Darcy observed, taking her hand as they strolled.
Elizabeth hesitated, then looked up at him with a mixture of guilt and amusement. “Do you remember when we promised always to be honest with each other? To share everything?”
“Of course. What troubles you?”
“I have come into some information regarding Georgiana that I have been asked not to share with you. But keeping secrets from you troubles me greatly.”
To her surprise, Darcy laughed. “If this concerns Mr Quinn, you may set your mind at ease. He has already written requesting a meeting when next we are in London. I suspect I know what he wishes to discuss.”
“He has already proposed,” Elizabeth confessed with relief. “But I was not supposed to say anything, as it was not considered proper protocol.”
“My dear Elizabeth,” Darcy said, his eyes twinkling with mirth, “nothing in our family has been done according to proper protocol when it comes to matters of the heart. Why should Georgiana be any different?”
They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, both lost in their own thoughts.
Elizabeth reflected on how much their lives had changed since that first assembly in Meryton.
Jane was blissfully happy with Bingley and their new daughter.
Even Caroline Bingley had found contentment, having married a Mr Barnett the previous year.
All the loose threads of their complicated beginning had been woven into something beautiful.
“What are you thinking?” Darcy asked.
“About how fortunate we are. Despite all the deception and misunderstandings that brought us together, we have found such happiness.”
“Do you ever regret how it began? Your mother’s scheming, the scandal, our false engagement?”
Elizabeth considered this seriously. “I think perhaps it was exactly as it was meant to be. We were both too proud and stubborn to have found each other any other way. Your mother’s manipulation provided the circumstances, but what grew between us was real.”
“I love you, Elizabeth Darcy,” he said, stopping to face her in the gathering twilight. “More than I ever thought it possible to love another person.”
“And I love you,” she replied, reaching up to touch his face. “My dear, impossible, wonderful husband.”
He kissed her then, soft and sweet, as the first stars appeared in the darkening sky above Longbourn. Whatever challenges the future might hold, they would face them together, surrounded by family and strengthened by a love that had been tested and proven true.
In the distance, they could hear Lydia’s laughter mixing with Uncle Morton’s gentle voice and their son’s contented babbling. This was happiness, Elizabeth thought—not the grand gesture or dramatic declaration, but these quiet moments of ordinary joy shared with those she loved most.
The End
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