Page 81 of The Shades of Pemberley
N otwithstanding the troubles the family had experienced in London, all at Pemberley appeared tranquil, with nothing of any note occurring to give the family pause.
“Moore reports the planting went well,” said William to Elizabeth the day following their arrival and after meeting with the steward. “Everything is in order. There is no sign of any of the trouble that drove us from London.”
“That is to be expected,” replied Elizabeth, “if anyone followed us, they would bide their time until our vigilance relaxed.”
William tightened his grip around Elizabeth, situated as they were relaxing on the chaise in their private quarters.
The house, filled with assorted Bennets, Darcys, Bingleys, and one Fitzwilliam, was so large that one could find a place to indulge in a desire for solitude, and Elizabeth and her husband’s refuge became their chambers.
“Mrs. Reynolds and Mr. Gates have integrated the men we brought from London into the regular staff,” continued William. “Should our intruder from London show his face, I believe we will have enough men present to thwart whatever he plans.”
“So long as we do not go far from the house,” said Elizabeth. Turning, she eyed her husband and said: “I am more than a little perturbed with this man; I wish to explore what Pemberley offers, and I have already waited several months for it.”
With a chuckle, William leaned in and kissed the top of her head. “It is a small price to pay to keep us all safe, Elizabeth. Should any trouble visit our borders, it will be easier to recognize and mitigate.”
Satisfied for the moment, Elizabeth did not protest. The first few days in their country home were characterized by a certain measure of exploring, regardless of Elizabeth’s inability to walk in the park to her heart’s content.
The previous visit in February had allowed little time for exploration, and now she meant to make up for that lack.
Elizabeth’s family agreed with her, and they were not hesitant to offer their opinions about Pemberley.
“I might never have expected one of my daughters would be the mistress of all... this!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet more than once in those days.
“You will become accustomed to it in time, Mrs. Bennet,” said Georgiana, her cheerful demeanor a stark contrast to her spirits when they had departed the estate.
“Pemberley is a large estate and an imposing house, but my family has always tried to make it a home, rather than a monument to the history of the Darcys.”
Mrs. Bennet, who had grown close to the young girl, smiled at this. “I cannot disagree, Georgiana dear. It is just... astonishing for one who has not much experience in such surroundings. Even the earl’s house in town did not prepare me for this grandeur.”
Georgiana returned Mrs. Bennet’s smile. “While I cannot understand, given I was raised here, I hope you will come to think of Pemberley as your home too.”
Pleased by this invitation, Mrs. Bennet nodded and did not raise the subject again, which was well enough, given repeated comments might become gauche.
The family was quick to settle into their surroundings, even if they were finer than they were accustomed to, the younger girls congregating with Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Bennet, while Mr. Bennet took up residence in the library and seemed little inclined to leave it.
Mr. Bingley and Jane were often together, of course, sharing conversation in the sitting-room or walking in the extensive gardens behind the house.
Colonel Fitzwilliam was at home as he ever was, lighting the mood with his jests and stories, while assisting William with the work of the estate to keep himself busy.
The one that might have been out of place, Miss Bingley, appeared to greet the sight of Pemberley with as much awe as Mrs. Bennet.
Once or twice, Elizabeth thought she saw the woman regarding her with a rueful expression, no doubt considering what she might have had were she in Elizabeth’s place.
As Miss Bingley showed no overt envy and said nothing on the subject, there was little reason for Elizabeth to comment.
Though she suspected they would never be bosom friends, Elizabeth enjoyed pleasant relations with Miss Bingley, who was friendly to all, a stark contrast to her behavior at Netherfield.
Between Miss Bingley and Mary, a sort of friendship even sprang up, likely because each fit in with none of the other cohorts, their shared love of music drawing them together to a certain extent.
After a time, Elizabeth even noticed an improvement in Mary’s playing, for her performance had always been a little pedantic.
Miss Bingley, who was talented, took her under her wing and showed her a few techniques which helped improve Mary’s performance, and for which she appeared grateful.
So they continued for the rest of the week.
On Sunday, they attended church at the parish of Kympton, not far from the manor, a quaint building that was new and constructed with the enjoyment of the parishioners in mind.
The previous Mr. Darcy had installed Mr. Earnshaw, the rector, the year before; he was an excellent orator, and they all enjoyed the service, even those not disposed to excessive piety.
The next week, Elizabeth explored what she could of the estate, though always under the careful eye of a footman or two.
The men brought from London patrolled the outside of the house, and one was always near to hand when she was about, giving her a sense of security.
Though Elizabeth never ventured beyond the edge of the gardens to the woods beyond, she often looked with longing eyes, promising herself that when they could be assured of safety, she would explore as much as she wished.
The other ladies walked, and William accompanied her whenever he was not busy on the estate, but Elizabeth was the most prone to walking and spent the most time out of doors.
After a time, however, she felt like something was different.
At first, she could not put her finger on it, for nothing appeared amiss, nothing changed.
The longer she thought on the subject, however, the more she became convinced that something had altered.
Then one morning, as she was dressing for the day, the answer came to her.
“Mama,” said Elizabeth later that morning, speaking quietly to avoid drawing attention to herself, “can I ask you about something?”
“Of course, Lizzy,” said her mother, putting a bit of needlework she had taken up aside.
Elizabeth fidgeted with a handkerchief, though a moment’s observation suggested that no one was watching her. “In private, for it is a delicate matter.”
Though nonplused, Mrs. Bennet nodded her agreement and allowed Elizabeth to lead her out of the sitting-room into a small parlor on the other side of the house. When they were within and the door closed, Elizabeth turned to Mrs. Bennet, uncertain how to ask her question.
“What is it, Lizzy?” asked Mrs. Bennet, concern taking the place of curiosity. “Is something amiss?”
“No, Mama,” said Elizabeth, feeling shy. “I realized something this morning, and I thought I would ask you about it.”
“Yes?” prompted her mother when she did not elaborate.
“Well, I was wondering... You see, I have not had my courses in some time.”
Mrs. Bennet’s eyes widened at that news. “When, Lizzy? When was the last time you had them?”
“I do not recall exactly, but I believe it was just before the wedding,” replied Elizabeth.
“About three months,” breathed Mrs. Bennet. Eyes shining with unshed tears, Mrs. Bennet drew Elizabeth in for an embrace. “Do you have any notion of what this means, my dear girl?”
Elizabeth nodded, unable to trust her voice in the moment’s emotion. “It means I am with child, does it not?”
“It does,” agreed her mother, drawing out to arm’s length.
For several long moments, Mrs. Bennet inspected her as if looking for signs that Elizabeth suspected did not exist, even insisting she rise. After a time, Mrs. Bennet sat again, pulling Elizabeth down with her.
“There is no sign yet, but for your courses to be so late, I suspect you are with child.”
“So early?” asked Elizabeth, a hint of a plaintive note in her voice.
“It only takes once, Child,” said Mrs. Bennet, appearing amused.
“It might have happened the first time you came together with your husband, or it may have taken a year or even more. We do not know exactly how a woman conceives, but the speed of it may depend on many factors. I did not fall with child with your elder sister until I had been married for six months.”
“What happens now?” asked Elizabeth, facing the uncertainty.
“Now, the child will grow within you.” Mrs. Bennet smiled.
“Childbirth is always a time of peril for the mother and the child, but you come from hardy stock, for I carried you and all your sisters without difficulty. As it is your first time, it will take some time for it to become obvious, but within the next seven months, you will present your husband with a little one in triumph.”
Mrs. Bennet smiled. “With your husband’s wealth, his ownership of Netherfield, and the end of the entail on Pemberley you will never need to endure the certainty of your future. Do you know if William prefers an heir at once?”
“We have never discussed it,” said Elizabeth, “but I do not think he is particular about it. If we should have naught but daughters, William will cherish them and not repine the lack of a son.”
“Then you are fortunate, my child, for not all women are in a position where they can look forward to the birth of a child without consideration for the sex.” Mrs. Bennet smiled.
“Had matters been different, we might have repined the lack of a son, but I dare say it has all turned out for the best; I would not give any of you up in favor of a son.”
Mrs. Bennet grinned and added: “However, I would not have opposed a sixth child if it were a boy.