Page 39 of Unwillingly Mrs. Darcy

Elizabeth

Two Years Later

Longbourn, Hertfordshire

T he crisp autumn air at Longbourn carried the scent of earth and harvest, while golden leaves tumbled from the trees in a gentle dance. Elizabeth walked alongside her father, who leaned on his stick, his steps steadier than they had been in months.

“I thought this day would never come,” he murmured, disbelief threading through his tone. “That I would never live to see it. The christening of my first grandchild.”

Elizabeth glanced up at him, warmth unfurling in her heart. “And yet here you are, Papa,” she said, slipping her hand through his free arm. “I am so very glad of it.”

Mr Bennet chuckled and shook his head. “Thanks in no small part to your husband, I daresay. He seems determined to gather the family together, does he not?”

Elizabeth could not deny the truth in that. Darcy had ensured that the best physicians tended to her father throughout his long recovery. “Yes,” she agreed with a fond smile. “He has done so much for us all.”

As they strolled, they reminisced about the past year and a half. Jane’s marriage to Mr Bingley had been a joyous occasion, and Mr Bennet had been well enough to walk her down the aisle. Now, the newlyweds had settled in an estate in the North, conveniently near Pemberley, allowing Elizabeth to visit often.

“She is faring well, I trust?” Mr Bennet asked, genuine concern reflected in his eyes.

Elizabeth smiled at her father. “Very well, indeed. In a few months’ time, she shall have a child of her own. I have no doubt she will be a wonderful mother.”

Her father hummed in satisfaction. “Indeed. Your mother shall finally have the grandchildren she has ever wished for.”

Elizabeth laughed lightly. “Well, two at least. However, I am certain Mary will soon add one more to the count, she speaks of little else these days.”

They were gathered at Longbourn to celebrate the christening of Elizabeth and Darcy’s firstborn son, Charles Lewis Fitzwilliam Darcy—a name honouring not just his godfather, Charles Bingley, and his godmother’s father, Lewis de Bourgh, but their cherished Fitzwilliam heritage as well. The house bustled with preparations, laughter mingling with the scent of simmering delicacies.

Mr Bennet sighed and shook his head with a wry smile. “I see I shall finally have the pleasure of meeting the much-discussed Lady Catherine.”

Elizabeth exhaled deeply, concern knitting her brow. “Yes… I confess, I have some trepidation regarding her interactions with my mother.”

“Lady Catherine had best be prepared, for there is none so formidable as Mrs Bennet,” her father chuckled.

Indeed, her mother had grown steely through the years. Caring for her husband had consumed her, but with Mr Bennet’s health restored, Mrs Bennet had found joy once more, organising escapades with her friends. She, along with Mrs Gardiner, and Mrs Phillips were soon to embark on a delightful tour of northern England, with Pemberley as a highlight.

“Are you quite certain you shall manage on your own, Papa?” Elizabeth asked, concern lacing her tone. “While Mama is away?”

“Manage?” he echoed, amused. “My dear, I am hardly alone. Jane and Bingley remain at Netherfield for another month before returning north, and while Lydia and her Mr Denny may be in London, they visit frequently. And of course, Mary and Mr Baxter are just down the road.”

Elizabeth smiled at the mention of her sister’s husband. Mr Baxter, a young barrister in Uncle Gardiner’s firm, had proven to be both steady and kind-hearted. Their quiet wedding had been a heartening event.

As for their adversary, Mr Wickham had at last been caught out. Under duress, Mrs Younge had surrendered his whereabouts, leading to his swift arrest and the harsh realities of a court-martial.

“Perhaps Kitty might visit, she has not been back since Christmastide until now. She does appear glowing, I must say.”

Elizabeth’s face brightened. “Oh, indeed. Kitty is being courted by one of Darcy’s associates, a gentleman of excellent character. We hope that there shall soon be a proposal. I can see how happy he makes her.”

Mr Bennet laughed heartily. “That will surely ease your mother’s nerves—to think that all her daughters are finally settled in marriage.”

Just then, the rumble of carriage wheels echoed down the drive. The first door opened, and out stepped Lady Catherine de Bourgh, her gaze sweeping over Longbourn with evident disdain. An open carriage followed, containing Mr Collins and his wife, Charlotte, though they remained seated, their uncertainty palpable. Charlotte waved at Elizabeth, only to retract her hand when Mr Collins glared at her disapprovingly. Poor Charlotte. She had helped secure the relinquishing of the entailment alongside Lady Catherine, something her husband had not appreciated in the least.

As Mrs Bennet emerged from the house, ready to greet Lady Catherine, Elizabeth felt a mixture of anticipation and dread. She could not hear their exchange until they were nearer, but what she heard was quite enough.

“A modest house, to be sure,” Lady Catherine remarked coolly, her eyes narrowing. “It must be a rather challenging task to entertain guests in such… limited quarters.”

Mrs Bennet’s eyes glinted with unyielding resolve. “Indeed, Lady Catherine, it takes skill to manage a home such as this, where one must rely upon wit and charm rather than grandeur alone. I suspect Netherfield may be more to your liking, as it is both grander and rather cold.”

Elizabeth barely suppressed a smile at her mother’s clever retort. Lady Catherine pursed her lips but poised herself to greet Elizabeth directly.

“Ah, Mrs Darcy, how good to see you,” she said, her voice smooth but laced with a hint of condescension as she shifted her attention to Mr Bennet. “And you must be Mr Bennet, I presume.”

“Indeed,” he said with a nod. “A pleasure, I’m sure.”

Lady Catherine’s gaze swept the gathering as she enquired about her daughter. “And has my daughter arrived?”

“She is inside, with Georgiana,” Elizabeth confirmed, careful to keep her tone neutral.

Lady Catherine narrowed her eyes. “And Richard?”

Elizabeth hesitated, studying her aunt’s expression. “He is with his father at Netherfield, awaiting your arrival.”

Lady Catherine clicked her tongue, irritation sparking in her eyes. “Oh? So my brother has deigned to make an appearance at last?”

Before Elizabeth could respond, Darcy emerged from the house, greeting his aunt with a respectful bow. Their eyes met, and with the slightest quirk of his lips, he conveyed silent amusement at the ongoing encounter.

“Aunt Catherine,” he called, his tone a blend of warmth and formality, “how good to see you.”

Lady Catherine turned to him with an air of expectation. “I was informed that your son is to bear my late husband’s name as one of his, and that my daughter is his godmother,” she stated with scrutiny. “A rather magnanimous decision on your part, nephew.”

Darcy remained unfazed. “It was Elizabeth’s idea,” he replied, his eyes flickering with affection towards her.

Lady Catherine regarded Elizabeth thoughtfully, then gave a curt nod. “A good choice.”

Elizabeth smiled, her heart swelling with pride. “Anne is a lovely young woman. I have grown quite fond of her, and I have never heard a bad word spoken about Sir Lewis.”

Lady Catherine sighed as if begrudging the compliment. “Very well. I shall make my way to Netherfield now. I merely wished to extend my greetings in the proper fashion.”

As she departed, Elizabeth locked eyes with Charlotte Lucas. Charlotte smiled brightly while Mr Collins merely nodded stiffly before following his patroness’s carriage. She would have to find a time to converse with her later on during their stay. Mrs Bennet escorted Mr Bennet back inside, leaving Elizabeth alone with her husband at last.

“Would you walk with me?” Darcy extended his arm, and Elizabeth slipped her hand through his, relishing the familiar comfort of his touch.

They made their way into the garden and Darcy smiled. “It is rather nice to have a moment’s peace,” he mused, glancing around the garden at the gentle play of sunlight filtering through the trees.

Elizabeth chuckled, leaning into him as they walked. “With a child in the house, such moments are indeed rare.”

Darcy’s arm slipped around her waist, drawing her closer. “And yet, I look forward to all we will experience as parents. Faith, Elizabeth. I owe you all my happiness,” he murmured softly against her ear.

Elizabeth leaned her head against his shoulder, feeling her heart swell with affection. “And I owe you mine, dear Fitz. Together, we have forged a life of joy.”

Their footsteps led them into the house, where laughter and love enveloped them, a testament to the bond they had nurtured. As they stepped into the warmth of home—their shared sanctuary—Elizabeth felt giddy with anticipation for what lay ahead, knowing their adventure had only just begun.

THE END

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