Previous Section, Section V

Jump to new as of July 14, 2004
Jump to new as of July 20, 2004

Chapter 14

Posted on Saturday, 3 July 2004

That evening at dinner, Colonel Fitzwilliam announced that he would be leaving the next morning to return to his regiment in town. His words were met with disappointment and regret from all of us, especially Georgiana. She pleaded with him to stay until her brother reminded her that their cousin did have responsibilities other than entertaining her.

She sighed and pouted somewhat. "I have grown accustomed to your being here all the time, Richard. Shall you not resign your commission and buy a house in Derbyshire?"

"A very inviting suggestion, Sprout," he replied, "but hardly practical."

"You will return and spend Christmas with us, will you not?" I asked.

"Thank you, Elizabeth, I should love to, but seeing as how the holiday is but a few weeks from now, I think not. My duties will require my continued presence, I am sure, since I have taken such an extended leave."

"But Richard, no one works at Christmas. Surely, you can slip away."

"Georgiana," William said, "let him be. Fitz knows what he can and cannot do."

She said nothing more for a while, but I could see that her spirits had turned melancholy. William surprised me with his next statement, although it was anything but unwelcome.

"I suggest that we invite Mrs. Bennet and Elizabeth's sisters to come from Longbourn and join us for Christmas, as well as the Gardiners."

My face lit up at the very idea of seeing my family once again. "Oh, William, that is generous of you."

"I shall write to them this very evening," he said. "And what say you to extending the invitation to Mr. Bingley, as well?"

I could have kissed him then and there if we had been alone! At last, he would make good on his promise to correct things between Jane and Mr. Bingley. I nodded vigorously and our eyes locked in loving agreement.

"I suppose that means you will invite his sisters, as well," Georgiana said somewhat half-heartedly.

William frowned and I struggled not to sigh, but I rose to the occasion and summoned every gracious bone in my body. "Of course we should ask them, should we not?"

William nodded before saying somewhat grimly, "If you think best, my dear."

"Who shall you spend Christmas Eve with, Richard?" Georgiana asked.

"Most probably with my parents unless they have invited Lady Catherine to visit them. If she is there, then I should prefer the company of my junior officers on post. Surely we lonely fellows can produce more holiday cheer among ourselves than I would experience at Eden Park."

We all smiled at this and nodded in agreement, although Georgiana's smile did not last long. "I cannot bear the thought of you being alone at such a festive time of year," she said.

"Then you must provide me with a happy memory to recall when I am far away, Georgie," he replied. "How about favouring me with some yuletide selections on the pianoforte after dinner?"

She readily agreed and we spent the later portion of the evening listening to her play. Mr. Darcy even prevailed upon me to join her in a duet and we played and sang several old tunes. At the end of our pleasant interlude, William walked his sister to the stairs after she bid us good-night, leaving Colonel Fitzwilliam and I alone in the music room. I took advantage of our privacy to speak to him.

"Richard, will you call again at Pemberley before leaving for your post abroad?" I asked.

The look on his face was pensive. "I am not sure exactly when I shall leave, but I hope to."

"Perhaps you might come for Georgiana's birthday in January," I suggested. "I suppose you have told her of your plans to leave England, have you not?"

"No, I shall remain silent in that regard as long as possible, for I cannot bear to see her unhappy, although I am certain she will forget all about me before long. She is so young and has much to look forward to."

"She does," I agreed, "but I cannot believe she will forget you so easily." I watched as he walked to the mantel and stared at the flames. "Forgive my intrusion, but I cannot help but feel it is because of Georgiana that you are making plans to depart these shores. Am I wrong?"

He turned and looked directly at me and I was surprised at the pain I saw reflected in his eyes. "I wish that you were, Elizabeth," he said.

"But why? Colonel, I know I should not ask this, but is it possible that you are in love with Georgiana?"

He looked away then, but not before I saw the truth wash over his countenance. "If I am, it is my cross to bear and mine, alone."

"Can you not tell her?"

He shook his head. "She is still a child and I am like an older brother to her, a comfortable, old friend she has loved since childhood. No, I cannot inflict such a burden upon her. 'Tis better to leave things as they are and for me to remove myself from her life."

"I do not agree," I said forcefully.

"On what do you not agree?" Mr. Darcy said, entering the room just then.

"On whether Mrs. Hurst is more tiresome than Miss Bingley," Richard said smoothly, but with a knowing look in my direction. I marveled at how well he concealed his strong emotions, as it was evident he did not wish to share our conversation with his cousin.

Mr. Darcy laughed and said he thought it was probably a draw. "Sometimes I wonder if Charles Bingley is truly their brother. Perhaps he is a foundling, for surely he is the complete opposite in manner and disposition."

"Siblings are not always alike," I said. "Some of my sisters are nothing akin to each other except in name."

"Quite right, my dear," William said, sitting in the chair closest to me. "And you are completely different from all of them, the very best of the lot I declare, would you not agree, Fitzwilliam?"

"Absolutely," Richard said with a smile. "You have won the prize, Darce. There is no doubt about it. And now I shall retire and leave the two of you, as I feel certain my absence will not be missed."

I blushed, remembering how we had exposed ourselves more than once in front of the colonel since my husband had returned to Pemberley. William did nothing more than raise an eyebrow at him, however, as we bid him good-night.

After he had left the room, William said, "Come here, my love."

I rose and took a step toward him and then laughed when he pulled me down onto his lap and began to kiss my neck. "William! What if the servants come in?"

"They will leave immediately. Pemberley's servants are very discreet."

He began to work his way around the neckline of my dress, leaving a trail of kisses that interfered greatly with my ability to breathe. When I could stand his teasing no longer, I took his face in my hands and sought his mouth, kissing him until he, too, had difficulty drawing breath. "Do you know how happy you have made me tonight?" I asked, drawing away at last.

"Give me time and I can make you happier," he said, reaching for me to capture my lips once again.

I laughed softly, but held myself away. "No doubt," I said, "but I am referring to what you said at the table. Thank you for asking both Jane and Mr. Bingley to Pemberley for Christmas. I can only assume that you intend to make things right between them."

He sighed deeply. "I shall do what I can, Elizabeth, even though I still have reservations that Bingley is worthy of your sister."

"She loves him, William. Is it not up to her to decide whether he is worthy?"

"I suppose, although I would much rather see her with someone who was more sure of himself, more settled and mature. How about if we set her up with Fitzwilliam? Now, there is a man who knows what he wants and if he spent much time with Miss Bennet, is it not possible they might fall in love?"

I rose from his lap then and turned away, not wanting to reveal my real thoughts.

"Where are you going?" he demanded.

"Not far," I said, looking back at him over my shoulder and smiling. "Just far enough to be able to think well enough to make a sensible statement. And as to Colonel Fitzwilliam, has he not made it clear that he must marry a woman of fortune? Surely, Jane's lack of such would hamper any such connection."

"Fitz is not poor by any means. He would provide for Miss Jane very well and with the dowry I have set up for her, they could live quite comfortably."

"I have never seen any inclination for each other on the part of either of them."

"They have been in the same company but a short while. Perhaps I can prevail upon Fitz to change his plans and join us during the holiday after all."

I walked back to him and knelt at his feet, taking his hands in mine. "William, I do not think we should play matchmaker in all of this."

"Why not? You are perfectly willing for me to prod Bingley towards your sister."

"She loves him," I said softly, laying my head upon his knee. "Believe me, I know my sister's heart and she does not love Colonel Fitzwilliam. Jane will never care for anyone as she does Mr. Bingley."

"Very well, my dear," he said, as he began to stroke my curls. "It shall be as you wish. I cannot deny you anything."

I raised my head and smiled as he leaned down to kiss me. "Then shall we go above stairs?" I whispered.

"Gladly!"

We rose and exited the room, my hand tucked inside his arm. As we climbed the great staircase, I asked, "Whose bed shall we sleep in tonight, William?"

"Mine," he announced without the slightest hesitation.

"And why not mine?" I said, unable to keep from teasing him.

"Because I have dreamed of having you in my bed far too many nights. You have to admit that I have been much more than patient and now I demand my rights."

"Perhaps I have dreamed the same dream, only in my bed," I persisted.

"Then to be fair, we shall have to look at it in this way. Who has dreamt the longest? There is no question about it. I win hands down, for I have loved you much, much longer than you have loved me."

I could do nothing more than smile then and lean my head against his shoulder as we continued on our way, savouring the pleasure I anticipated awaiting me. How delightful to know that I should never have to sleep alone again.

A light snow was falling when Colonel Fitzwilliam left the next morning. It covered the grounds of Pemberley like fairy dust, glistening each time the sun peeked through the clouds and lit up the landscape. I hoped it might lighten Georgiana's mood, but it was not to be. She moped around for most of the day and, in truth, her countenance did not change much for the next 10 days until my sisters and mother arrived from Longbourn and the Gardiners a day later. They had, of course, accepted the invitation with alacrity. Jane had written the response and one line in her letter had piqued my curiosity, as well as William's.

'I have something of great importance to tell you, Lizzy, but I shall wait until we are face to face before doing so.'

I could not imagine what it was and my only fear was that she might have accepted the proposal of some kind gentleman from the county, as she had threatened to do when I was last at Longbourn. Neither William nor I had written her to expect Mr. Bingley's attendance at Pemberley, as we had not yet heard from him. William said that he was a poor correspondent and that we would probably hear from his sisters before he wrote and sure enough, Mr. Bingley was quite late in sending his acceptance.

Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst wrote that neither of them would be able to take advantage of our generous hospitality. It seemed that Mr. Hurst's brother had already invited them to spend Christmas at his house in Surrey and they were invited to a Christmas ball to be held at the home of Lady Jersey's nephew, who resided in the same neighbourhood. You might imagine what severe disappointment that caused our household, but we bore it as best we could.

I had much to do to make sure Pemberley was prepared for this onslaught of visitors and thus did not spend that much time alone with my sister-in-law. William talked her into accompanying him into the woods with a couple of the servants to select the Yule log and holly bough, but even that did little to lift her spirits. He complained to me about her lack of holiday cheer and asked if I had any idea why her mood was so low. I told him the truth, that Georgiana had not confided any such reason to me, but in my heart I felt guilty in keeping silent as to what I thought lay at the base of it all. Whether she knew it or not, I thought Georgiana was as much in love with Colonel Fitzwilliam as he was with her. And yet, I feared that William would not want to hear that.

So it was a great relief to have Mamma, Jane, Mary and Kitty arrive and meet Georgiana. They provided a noisy, welcome diversion and I was glad to see my family claim much of my young sister-in-law's attention. Mary and Georgiana shared a delight in music and when at the instrument, they were quite compatible. Kitty's natural exuberance could not help but aid Georgiana to emerge from her natural reticence and I hoped my sister-in-law's decorum might, in turn, influence my sister. Of course, Mamma was in awe of Pemberley - in truth, all of my sisters were impressed - but she was quite speechless for the first day of her visit, as I took her on an extensive tour of the house. We took advantage of the muted respite and found ourselves longing for it once her vocal abilities returned, for she oohed and aahed throughout the entire establishment, blessing Mr. Darcy again and again for marrying me and then playing the coquette with him in the evenings after tasting a glass of wine. He bore it all very well and I tried my best to console him when we were alone in his chamber at the end of each day, a tiresome duty but one that I felt compelled to endure.

We were truly surprised by one of Mamma's statements which she bestowed upon us as soon as her ability to speak returned.

"Lizzy!" she said, "Has Jane told you the news?"

"What news is that, Mamma?" I asked.

"Mr. Bingley has returned to Netherfield!"

I looked at Jane in amazement and observed her blush and attempt to conceal her smile. "No, she did not tell me," I answered and then stole a glance at Mr. Darcy who appeared as amazed as I was.

"Well, then let me tell you all about it. He came with a company of gentlemen some two weeks ago. I had it from Mrs. Long and then Mrs. Philips confirmed that it was a shooting party and none of the ladies accompanied them. But, oh, Lizzy, we were all in such a state, for Mr. Bingley was three days in the neighbourhood and still he did not call! Well, I said it was all your father's fault. If he had not gone and died, he would be there where he belonged and could have called on Mr. Bingley. Yes, yes, it was all his fault." She paced back and forth in the drawing room waving her kerchief around to punctuate her speech.

"Mamma!" Jane remonstrated, for all the good it accomplished. I just shook my head and with a meaningful look at my sister, I attempted to return my mother to the point of her conversation

"And so Mr. Bingley did not call upon any of you?"

"Oh, but he did, Lizzy," she said. "On the fourth day of his sojourn, Kitty looked out the window and what do you think she saw? None other than Mr. Bingley riding up the path to Longbourn on his dappled mare! Oh, he was mighty pleased to see Jane again. It was all as plain as day. No one could mistake his preference for her."

"Mamma!" Jane said again with an imploring look in her eyes.

I watched Mr. Darcy retreat to the window, that shell of disapprobation descending upon his countenance. Why could my mother not learn to curb her tongue?

The arrival of the Gardiners that afternoon provided not only welcome guests, but distractions for both Mamma and Mr. Darcy. He spent no little time once again showing my uncle Pemberley's grounds and if it had not been snowing, I think they would have fished the lake dry just to be outdoors and away from a house filled with women. It was the third day of my family's visit before Jane and I actually found some time alone. That afternoon, Georgiana and Mary were practicing a duet, Mamma was listing Mr. Darcy's assets to Mrs. Gardiner once again and planning Jane's upcoming nuptials even though she had not yet received a proposal, and Kitty entertained the younger Gardiners out in the snowy garden. I tucked Jane's hand in my arm and whisked her off to a parlor in the east wing. From the window we could see my husband and uncle walking the path that led to the pond.

"Oh, Lizzy, are you truly as happy as you appear?" Jane asked.

My face was wreathed in smiles. "Truly," I replied. "Jane, it is just as you hoped. I have come to love Mr. Darcy and, wondrous thought, he loves me in return."

"Of course he does! I knew that he did the moment he asked for your hand at Longbourn."

"I confess that I did not," I said, shaking my head. "And I am afraid that I behaved badly and made him miserable for quite some time."

"You, Lizzy? I cannot believe that!"

"Come, Jane, you know what a reluctant bride I was. Indeed, I was terrible to him for no little time. It is a wonder he did not return to Longbourn and dump me on Mamma's doorstep with a list of complaints hung around my neck!"

"Lizzy!"

I could not help smiling again. "But he is too good, Jane, absolutely too good a man to do such a thing. He has borne my anger and suspicion and bad temper and won me over. He is truly the best of men."

"Oh, Lizzy, I am so happy for you," she said, but I could not mistake the wistful sound of her voice.

"And you?" I asked. "Your last letter has made me alive with curiosity! What is this news you have to tell? Does it have to do with Mr. Bingley?"

Jane blushed and looked down at her hands in her lap. "He has not made a declaration to me, Lizzy, if that is what you mean. But I am happier than I have been in a long time."

"Because?"

"Because even though we were separated close to a year, when he did call upon us, it was like he had never gone away. I still believe I have never met a more amiable man in my entire life."

"And is he yet at Netherfield?"

"No, he returned to London last week, but he promised to come back to Hertfordshire with the new year."

"Oh, Jane, I cannot wait any longer," I cried. "I must tell you this!"

"What is it?"

"Mr. Darcy has invited Mr. Bingley to spend Christmas with us. He is coming to Pemberley tomorrow!"

The colour drained from Jane's face and her eyes grew larger and even bluer than usual. "He is coming here?" she repeated.

"Yes," I said, taking her hands in mine. "You shall spend the next fortnight in each other's company every day."

"Oh, Lizzy, do you think that best? What about Mamma?"

I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment. "Jane, if Mr. Bingley loves you, he will have to accept your family. Mr. Darcy has learned that, and if he, of all men, can tolerate the Bennets, surely Mr. Bingley can."

We both laughed, and I was grateful I could laugh, for three months ago I would never have believed such a deed possible.

Mr. Bingley did arrive the next day along with a new snowstorm. He walked into the great hall, his hat and coat dusted white within the short distance from his carriage to the door. A bitter wind blew in with him, causing the candles to flare up. Mr. Darcy and I had just left the breakfast room and were crossing the hall when the door opened upon him. We were excited and exceedingly pleased to see him and ushered him into the salon where my family had gathered after eating. I thought Mamma would suffer apoplexy upon first sight of Mr. Bingley; her mouth hung agape a full five minutes. Neither Jane nor I had warned her that he was coming for fear that it would only encourage her inappropriate remarks in the presence of Mr. Darcy.

I paid particular attention to the reaction of both Jane and Mr. Bingley upon seeing each other and was most gratified to see their eyes light up and witness the difficulty both of them had in tearing their gaze from each other.

Unfortunately, Mamma recovered her voice all too soon. "Mr. Bingley!" she cried. "You sly thing! Here you planned to follow Jane all the way to Derbyshire and never a word of it when last we visited."

"Mamma!" Jane and I both said in unison.

"How nice to see you again, Mr. Bingley," Mrs. Gardiner interjected smoothly, drawing him into the room. Her husband quickly stepped in, as well, and engaged him in a discussion of the road conditions. From then on, it was as though an unspoken agreement arose between my aunt and uncle, Mr. Darcy, and Jane and I to spare Mr. Bingley from further conversation with my mother, a task most arduous, indeed.

With the inclement weather upon us, the men were forced to spend most of the coming days indoors, whereupon they made frequent use of Mr. Darcy's library and billiards room. Georgiana and I prevailed upon our female guests to assist us in trimming the Yule log with greenery in anticipation of its being lit on Christmas Eve, as well as stringing apples, twigs, and ribbons to decorate the holly bough so that it would be ready to hang from the ceiling in the main drawing room. We spent no little time in the stillroom selecting holly, ivy, bay and rosemary with which to adorn the house, and soon the fragrant herbal aromas permeated Pemberley in a most pleasing manner.

Mamma insisted upon adding mistletoe to the holly bough even though it had been long considered a "kissing-bough" without that accessory. "It will not hurt to provide added encouragement to the holiday tradition," she said, winking and raising her eyebrows in Jane's direction several times. I simply closed my eyes and shook my head, embarrassed for Jane's mortification, and yet helpless to control my mother. We would be fortunate if we got through the holidays without Mamma proposing to Mr. Bingley upon Jane's behalf!

Each evening in the privacy of our bedchambers, I asked my husband if he had yet spoken to Mr. Bingley and each evening he replied in the negative. After three days of this, his recalcitrant manner had begun to grate on my nerves and my nightly nagging did little to endear me to him.

"Elizabeth," he said quite forcefully on the third night, "do not ask me about this again. I shall speak to Bingley when the time is right."

"But when shall that be? You have put this off for months, William, and now you have been in daily contact with him and still you remain silent." I had just climbed into his bed and he was blowing out the candles before joining me.

"I promised you that I would do it. Will you now trust me to keep my word?" The anger in his voice was unmistakable, his tone sharp; I knew that I needed to back down, that I had pushed far enough. I said nothing, but the look I gave him before he extinguished the final light was full of fire. I lay down and turned on my side away from him, biting my tongue when he lay beside me. I resolved to remain silent. If he forbade me to speak on that subject again, I would not speak at all. Righteous anger caused me to swell up like a toad, and when I think back upon it now, I am grateful we lay in darkness for I am certain I was not a pretty sight.

We remained in silence for some time. I was far too angry to go to sleep and I sensed that he was having similar difficulty. Pulling the cover over my shoulders, I tossed around several times, attempting to find a comfortable position, and made certain my disgruntled sighs were quite audible. He did not move, but his breathing revealed that he was awake. After none of my obviously angry actions provoked the desired apology from him, I scooted as close to the edge of the bed as possible. I lay there miserable for some time; finally I sat up, turned back the cover and threw my legs over the side.

"Elizabeth? What are you doing?" he said, immediately sitting up.

"Returning to my chamber," I said evenly.

"Is there something you need from your room? Shall I light a candle?"

"The only thing I need is my own bed."

"Whatever for?"

"How can you ask that, sir? I shall never go to sleep in this mood and neither shall you. I think it best that we sleep apart tonight."

"I do not agree. I wish for you to remain in my bed, and I ask you to respect my wishes."

Oh, how superior he sounds! I thought. I sat there, beginning to fume and willing my voice not to betray my feelings. "I suppose you consider this an excellent opportunity for me to obey you."

"You may choose to perceive it that way," he said, "but I see it as an opportunity for you to be gracious and indulge my preference."

"And am I to remain awake throughout the night just to be deemed gracious and indulgent in your sight?"

"I said nothing about remaining awake, Elizabeth. I want you to lie down and sleep beside me as you have done ever since we truly became husband and wife."

The reminder of our union was not lost on me, for I had reveled in our oneness, thrilled that he loved me and gave me such pleasure, for he was a patient, generous lover. Tonight, however, it was not enough to erase the harsh words that had passed between us earlier. "I fail to see how I shall ever sleep tonight if I remain here."

He rose from the bed and lit a candle on a nearby table. "I always find that a good book helps me fall asleep and I know that you have employed a similar habit in the past. Let me read to you."

Read to me? What is he thinking?

With great curiosity, I watched him walk across the room and select a book from among the myriad assortment on his shelves. When he returned to the bed, I was shocked to see that he held a Bible in his hands.

Is it his intent to preach to me? Oh, happy thought, indeed!

William took his time finding the passage he sought and then he laid it aside and looked into my eyes with a look that no longer contained anger. I turned away from his gaze, unwilling to let my wrath be so easily appeased.

"Elizabeth, have I ever told you of when my mother died?"

This new subject took me completely by surprise. I said nothing, shaking my head slightly.

"I was barely 14 years old and Georgiana was very young. My mother had been ill since my sister's birth and enjoyed scant days of good health from that time on. It was as though she had been dying for more than two years. That last week my father bade me go in to see her alone, at her request. She told me that she loved me and how proud of me she was, and then . . ." his voice almost broke there, "she told me she would not be here to see me grow up and that was one thing she regretted most about leaving this world. She said she longed to see me as a bridegroom and meet the woman who would be my wife. Then she had me retrieve her Bible and she instructed me to turn to several passages that she knew by heart. First, she warned me to look for a good woman, for she impressed upon me that marriage is for life and I would find myself miserable if I did not heed the words of King Solomon."

He handed me the book and pointed out two verses in Proverbs. I read aloud:

" 'The contentions of a wife are a continual dropping . . . It is better to dwell in a corner of the housetop, than with a brawling woman in a wide house.'"1

I glared at him. "Perhaps you should have paid closer attention to your mother's admonition."

Taking the Bible from me, he smiled and said, "No, I listened well, for she told me to turn to the final chapter of that same book. There she showed me the type of woman I should seek and I found her:

'Who can find a virtuous woman, for her price is far above rubies? The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil.'²

"My heart trusts in you, Elizabeth. Will you not allow your heart to trust in me?"

I looked away, moved both by the passage he had just read and the tenderness of his own declaration. Stubbornness still reigned in my heart, however, and so I said in a somewhat flippant manner, "I did not know that you were a biblical scholar, sir."

He smiled. "Hardly, although I have read the book at my mother's insistence. I am no sermon-maker, Elizabeth, just a simple man trying to learn how to be a husband to the only woman in this world that I shall ever love."

I caught my breath when I looked up and saw the look in his eyes. "William, that is not fair."

"What is not fair?" he said lazily, taking my hand in his.

"How can I remain angry when you say such words and look at me in that way?"

He smiled again. "That is my intent, dearest little wife."

I looked away and sighed, knowing that I would succumb to his charms like a moth to a flame. I resolved, however, to not make it easy for him and searched my brain for something neutral upon which to speak, delaying his victory as long as possible. "I should have liked to have known your mother."

"She would have loved you."

"She gave you quite dissimilar advice about marriage than my mother gave me."

"Oh? And what did your mother tell you, or do I want to know?"

"She told me to do anything and everything you asked, to never refuse you, to keep you happy, and that way I would be sure to receive a generous amount of pin money from you."

He laughed aloud, his dimples gracing his countenance in that boyish way that always made me smile. "I believe I quite like your mother's advice and it is not as dissimilar as you might think, for she referenced the Bible, as well."

"Now there you are mistaken, sir," I said, laughing. "I know for a fact that my mother knows but little of the book and she has absorbed even less from the vicar's sermons, for I have watched her struggle in vain to stay awake each Sunday morn."

"But in her own way she quotes St. Paul," William said, taking the Bible from me and turning the pages. "Listen to this from the Corinthian letter:

'The wife hath not power of her own body, but the husband . . . defraud ye not one the other.'³

"Yes, I do like your mother's advice."

"Let me see that," I demanded, reaching for the book.

He held it up out of my reach. "What? Are you saying you do not trust me, good wife?"

I rose up on my knees and reached for it again, but his arms were much longer than mine, and I fell against him and into his lap. "William, let me read it, for I believe you are making that up."

He held me close to him with one arm and we tussled together, now laughing until I was too weak to keep trying. "Let me see it, I pray you," I finally said, but in a much more gentle voice.

He continued to hold it aloft. "Only if you take back what you just said - you must say that you believe me, that you will always believe your lord and master as befits an obedient wife."

I lunged for the book again, but he was faster and stronger and it was to no avail. "Very well," I cried, "I believe you. Now will you let me see it?"

"What is the need? You said you believed me."

"William! I wish to read it for myself."

He smiled again and began to kiss my cheek, working his way down to my ear and that spot on my neck just below that he knew pleasured me greatly. In doing so, he lowered his hand and I grabbed the Bible. Although it was terribly difficult to concentrate when he continued to trail kisses up and down my neck, I lay back on his pillow and held the book close to the candle until I found the passage he had read.

"Aha! Just as I thought, husband, you neglected to read all of St. Paul's sermon. Listen to this:

'Let the husband render unto the wife due benevolence . . . and likewise also the husband hath not power of his own body, but the wife!'⁴

"There, I knew there was more to it than you read. What say you to that?"

"Far be it from me to quarrel with St. Paul," he said, now lying beside me, his voice soft and low. "I give you complete power over my body and I shall be glad to render due benevolence unto you, my dearest, darling wife."

I closed the book then and placed it on the table. Who was I to argue with a saint?

1. Proverbs 19, 13a; 25:24
2. Proverbs 31:10-11
3. I Corinthians 7:4-5
4. I Corinthians 7:3-4

Chapter 15

Posted on Sunday, 11 July 2004

Christmas Eve arrived before we knew it. The day was spent in a flurry of activities. The decorated holly-bough was hung from the ceiling in the main drawing room and that evening Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley carried in the huge, gaily trimmed Yule log as our guests and I applauded its arrival. The youngest of the Gardiners' sons ran and sat upon it before anyone else could and so he was commended for his efforts by assurances of much good luck awaiting him in the coming new year. Mr. Darcy gave him a gold coin to begin the cycle and his brother and sisters crowded around him, exclaiming over it. My husband then lit the new log with the saved end of last year's Yule log that he and Georgiana had burned at Pemberley and our roaring Christmas fire blazed.

There was much merriment and joyous cries of "Happy Christmas" all around. Georgiana carried in the Christmas candle and, after lighting it, placed it upon the mantel. It was an exceptionally large taper in order to burn all through the night. The adults filled their glasses from the wassail bowl and the children were provided with cups of hot cider. When we had all been served, Mr. Darcy stood before the fireplace and asked for our attention.

"My friends and family, I wish you all a Happy Christmas. May the New Year bring each of us joy, prosperity and happiness. I drink to your health." He downed his glass and then Mr. Gardiner said, "And to yours, Mr. Darcy," whereupon Mr. Bingley chimed in, "Hear, hear."

As we sipped from our glasses, I rejoiced that we were all together in this beautiful home at the dearest time of the year. I also rejoiced to hear Mr. Bingley echo his support of my husband, for I had noticed a definite coolness upon his part the last two days. William had told me that he had at last informed Mr. Bingley of his part in concealing Jane's presence in town last winter, and he apologized for ever attempting to dissuade him from courting her. Mr. Bingley was quite angry when he learned the truth and there had been little conversation between the two friends since their talk.

"In truth, my dear," William said to me, "I know not whether Bingley is angrier with me about my concealment or because I took him to task regarding his lack of ardor toward Miss Bennet. I told him that he needed to stand up and be a man, that if he truly loved your sister, he should not let anything his sisters or I said keep him from declaring his intentions. He does not need my blessing."

"And what did he say to that?" I asked.

"He became somewhat defensive and placed the blame on my shoulders, for he said I had convinced him that Jane Bennet did not care for him. I, in turn, told him he should be strong enough to keep his own counsel and discover the truth for himself. I believe he had already reached that conclusion before we spoke, for he did travel to Netherfield last month without asking my opinion. Perhaps his feelings for your sister will be the making of Bingley ."

By Christmas Eve all seemed to be mended, as Mr. Bingley's endearing amiability had returned. With respectful forbearance, he endured Mamma's pointed remarks whenever Jane strayed within five feet of the kissing bough and I noted that he was rarely far from her side.

The Gardiners' young daughters each stood below the bough and were promptly bussed by their father, who then lifted them up to retrieve a berry from the decorative holly. This was met with laughter and much teasing by their brothers that "no other man will ever kiss them." Kitty caused them to cease their torment by standing beneath the holly-bough, herself, whereupon each of the little boys was goaded into claiming a kiss, one on either of her cheeks. Mortification reigned supreme upon their blushing young faces, but it served its purpose as they no longer beleaguered their sisters.

We played games with the children and gave each of them a small gift and the room was soon littered with tiny scraps of gold paper. At last their nanny ushered them off to bed, having fed them much earlier. That was the signal for the adults to enter the dining room and sit down to our Christmas Eve dinner, only the beginning of many feasts we would partake of during the 12 days of Christmastide. After dinner, Mr. Darcy surprised me by asking Georgiana and Mary to take turns playing for us so that we might dance. The servants pushed back the chairs in the music room and we soon began a rollicking reel. Each time we passed beneath the mistletoe, Mr. Darcy would steal a quick kiss from me, to the delight of my younger sisters. I could not believe with what ease he entered into the frivolity of the season. Mr. Gardiner did the same with his wife and we were soon laughing at how she blushed.

"Bingley, it is now your turn," Mr. Darcy called as his friend danced my oldest sister down the row. I caught my breath, shocked at my husband's newly-found audacity, and wondered if Mr. Bingley would carry through on his suggestion. He did! And I could not say who was pinker, Jane or Mr. Bingley or my mother, for she was laughing and cheering so much so that her countenance had turned positively rosy. Suddenly, I had the strongest yearning for my father's presence. Oh, he would have sat by the fire, shaking his head at the "silliest young women in England," but he would smile that smile of his and I would see the light in his eyes when he gazed upon my mother. Tonight I could see what attracted him to her all those long years ago, for she appeared as much of a girl as any of her daughters ever had. I sensed that it had been her laughter and light-hearted spirit that attracted the cynical nature of my father, adding a dimension to his life he had never experienced before.

The next morning we rose early to attend Christmas church services. The small sanctuary was filled with people I had come to know since moving to Derbyshire, and we were hailed with many smiles and greetings of "Happy Christmas" by our neighbours. As I sat in the pew between my husband and young sister-in-law and listened to the vicar read the old familiar Christmas story, a stream of sunlight beamed through the stained glass windows and bathed our family in its warmth. I was extremely grateful for how good God had been to me that year . . . a year in which I had known both the greatest heartache and happiness in my life.

On Boxing Day Georgiana and I had just completed wrapping the last of the servants' boxes when I heard a shriek echo from above stairs, a familiar sound I recognized as belonging to my mother. Georgiana's eyes widened in wonder and we both ran up the stairs.

"Mamma!" I cried, upon entering her sitting room. "What is wrong?"

"Wrong? Oh, Lizzy, nothing is wrong! Everything is right in this world!" she exclaimed. She was reclining upon a chaise and Jane sat beside her, fanning her with a kerchief. From the looks on their faces, I had little doubt of what had happened.

"Jane?" I asked, stretching out her name.

She jumped up and embraced me. "Oh, Lizzy, he loves me. Mr. Bingley loves me."

"Well, of course he does!" I said.

"Oh, I cannot believe it! He wants to marry me! He has gone to my uncle this very moment."

By this time Mary, Kitty and Mrs. Gardiner had rushed into the room and there was such a commotion of happiness and joy that even some of the servants put in an appearance to see what was the matter.

"When did he ask you?" Kitty asked.

"Did he kneel down?" Georgiana wanted to know.

"When is the wedding?" Mary added.

Jane tried her best to answer each of their questions, but they were coming with such haste, that it was nigh to impossible. Mrs. Gardiner eventually managed to shush everyone and allowed Jane to tell us the details.

"He asked me this morning, only a short time ago."

"I knew it would happen!" Mamma interrupted. "I knew you could not be so beautiful for nothing!"

"Where did it happen?" I asked.

"We took a stroll around your garden, Lizzy. Yesterday's sun has melted some of the snow and there was little wind, so it was quite pleasant out of doors."

"And that is possibly the only place you could be alone, am I not correct?" I asked, laughing.

She smiled and nodded and continued. "He said he has loved me ever since he first came to Netherfield. He did not know that I was in London last winter, Aunt. That is why he never called at Gracechurch Street. I do not understand why Caroline or Mrs. Hurst did not tell him, but it is no matter now. All is made right, for he wants us to be married as soon as possible, Mamma."

"Oh, yes, you must be married by a special licence, my dear," Mamma chimed in. "I am sure Mr. Bingley can see to it, and we will hold the wedding in Longbourn Church. How about in April when the first lilies begin to bloom?"

"How about in February before anything blooms?" I interjected. "That way Jane will be the most beautiful flower in the county."

"February!" Mamma cried. "Oh, no! I cannot possibly plan a wedding by February. We shall have to travel to town for gowns, for that is where all the best warehouses are, and with the inclement weather this time of year, we cannot depend upon getting it all done that soon."

"Why not meet in the middle," Mrs. Gardiner suggested, "and marry in March?"

Jane's eyes lit up and Mamma was soon persuaded to agree upon that month. The remainder of the morning was spent in countless re-telling of the entire proposal scene and my mother's endless wedding plans.

That evening Georgiana and I joined Mr. Darcy in the great old hall where we had held the Harvest Ball. All of the servants were assembled and after enjoying a feast of venison and turkey, we handed out their gifts. The majority of the boxes held money, of course, the most prized contribution we could give them, but I had selected a singular gift for Fiona. Before our guests had arrived to spend Christmas with us, Mr. Darcy and I had spent a day shopping in a neighbouring town. There I had chosen a small gift for Georgiana and some for my sisters and mother when I came across a shawl trimmed with a lovely piece of Irish lace. For some reason it made me think of Fiona, delicate and pretty and yet serviceable, exactly as she was. I resolved to purchase it for her then and there. We had already prepared a box of money for her and Georgiana had previously found a small toy for Willie, but I wanted to give the maid something special, something just from me.

I now drew her aside in the great hall and offered her the wrapped parcel.

"But Mistress, the Master has already given me my box," she said.

"I know," I replied, "this one is just from me."

Her eyes grew big with wonder as she undid the string and opened the package. "Oh, Ma'am, it is beautiful, truly beautiful!" she said, as she held the lace in her hands. "I have never had anything so fine. Thank you, Ma'am, oh, thank you!"

"You are welcome, Fiona. I believe it was made for you."

She reached out and took my hands in hers, squeezing them, a bold move for a servant, but one I welcomed. I had wronged this girl within my mind and even though this gift certainly did not make right what I had done, it did give her pleasure and I sincerely wanted her to have it. As she curtseyed and walked away to join Betty and Willie and show them her treasure, I looked up and caught Mr. Darcy watching us. Our eyes met and although we did not speak, I could feel the warmth of his approval.

We enjoyed mutual approval of each other and nary a discordant word between us during the remaining days of Christmastide, a marvelous feat I rejoiced in, seeing that we endured a house full of company for close to three weeks. Our festivities culminated with the celebration of Twelfth Night. Our closest neighbours, the Darnleys and Ashtons, joined our guests that evening. It was an evening for masks and playacting, an event requiring that I use all of my powers of persuasion on my dear husband to cause to come about.

"Elizabeth," he said, "we have not observed Twelfth Night in such a manner since I was a child."

"All the more reason to do so this year," I said. He did not truly agree with my argument, protesting the masks in particular but he allowed it, perhaps because of my gentle persuasion. Slowly I was learning the man could be more easily swayed by honey rather than vinegar.

Mamma was almost as excited as Kitty and Georgiana about the thought of a masked evening and she questioned Mr. Darcy thoroughly as to whether either of his neighbours had eligible sons among their family. He thrilled her by announcing that young Edward Darnley was an excellent young man and his older brother, as well, and they would be in attendance that evening. She was not quite so thrilled to learn that Mr. Ashton had a pretty daughter whom young Edward was courting.

"But you say there is an elder brother," Mamma said, pursing her lips. "Even better. We shall make what we can of the opportunity." She then went in search of Kitty and Mary to oversee their gowns and masks for the evening. Even this blatant vulgarity on my mother's part did not dissuade Mr. Darcy's good mood, however, and I marveled each day as to how tolerant he had grown of my family's foibles.

I made several trips to the kitchen before the party, personally overseeing the décor of the Twelfth Night cake. I was glad to see that Cook had not disappointed me. The sugar frosting and gilded paper trimmings transformed it into a sight to behold.

"And did you remember to include a bean and pea in it before baking?" I asked.

"Yes, Ma'am," Cook replied. "It is just as you ordered."

The old custom had not been observed at Pemberley for many years, but I wished to reinstate it and as I was now mistress of the house, I made that decision on my own. The beautiful cake was brought in and placed as the centerpiece of the dining table. That night, after music and a clumsy but hilarious theatrical of A Midsummer's Night Dream playacted by the younger members of the family, we sat down to a lavish dinner of boar's head and turkey, plum pudding and gingerbread. Then the cake was cut and everyone was served a piece. It seemed quite fitting that Mr. Darcy found the bean contained in his slice of cake and thus served as king for the night; however, we were all in uproar when Mamma discovered the pea in her serving and was proclaimed queen for the evening. They took their "thrones" (chairs that Georgiana and Kitty had decorated with garlands of white paper flowers) in the smaller ballroom and from there we were obliged to do any and everything they commanded.

I knew that Mr. Darcy was born for that role, but he had his hands full when Mamma began ordering him around along with everyone else. Her natural proclivity for being in command, as well, only added to his dismay. She decreed that Mary should play a jig and that Mr. Darcy and I should lead the dance. She then began to pair up the remaining unmarried couples, beginning with Jane and Mr. Bingley, of course, and ending with Kitty and the Darnley's older son. A jig was not Mr. Darcy's cup of tea and certainly not in front of his neighbours, but he carried through nonetheless. After it was over and we were flushed from the exercise, he made his own law.

"I decree that the king shall not be commanded to dance again this night!" he said, retiring to his throne and enjoying a glass of wine that Georgiana brought him.

By the time our guests departed at the end of the evening and we retired to our chambers, my husband was only too glad to be alone with me behind closed doors. I commended him for his forbearance during the party and, indeed, throughout the extended visit from my family and Mr. Bingley.

"Do not praise me too highly, Elizabeth," he said, "for if truth be known, I am looking forward to tomorrow when they shall leave Pemberley and we shall have our house to ourselves."

I fingered the chain of perfect emeralds around my neck, the Christmas gift he had given me, and thought of how truly generous a man I had married. Fiona had earlier helped me change into my nightgown and robe and brushed out my hair, but I told her to leave the necklace, that I would take it off myself, for I knew that the colour flattered my eyes. Now, I joined him before the fireplace in his chamber and slipped my arms around his neck.

"Praise does not exist that is high enough for you, William," I said. "You are truly the very best of men."

He smiled and gazed into my eyes, taking me into his arms and kissing me tenderly before speaking. "I am far from that, my love, but I believe I do deserve some commendation. This Christmastide has been, by far, the liveliest either Pemberley or I have experienced. I truly am hoping for a quieter time the remainder of January."

"My poor darling," I said, laying my head against his chest. "I am afraid you shall rue the day you ever brought me into your house."

"Elizabeth! How can you say that?" he said, holding me at arms' length where we could face each other.

"Well, you must admit I have disrupted your life entirely. And when you married me, you acquired a bag full of relatives that I know have tried you sorely and shall continue to do so."

He shook his head. "You are wrong. My life was not one of contentment before you came into it, but rather loneliness and tedium. Oh, I had friends enough, my home, my place in society, but none of it meant anything nor could it ever mean anything to me again without you. And yes, your family is interesting, but I now take them as they are and I am grateful for them."

"Grateful? Jane, perhaps, and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, but surely you are not grateful for all of them."

"I am," he said, pulling me onto his lap as he sat on the sofa before the fire. "For without them, there would be no Elizabeth, no lovely, adorable Elizabeth. You are a part of them and they of you, and I would not have it any other way."

I began to kiss him then, softly at first, tenderly caressing his lips until our passions caught fire and soon blazed brighter and higher than the flames before which we sat.

If I said that Mr. Darcy and I never had another cross word between us, it would be false, for as married couples throughout time have known, it is impossible to live with someone and always agree. And seeing that we were of such different temperaments, we still had much to overcome in this relatively new marriage. The next such difficulty arrived a short time after Georgiana's 17th birthday.

She had been much cheered with a house full of guests during the holidays, but since they had left, her spirits had dampened. She spent many hours at the pianoforte or reading. The only time I saw her countenance brighten was when she or Mr. Darcy received a letter from Colonel Fitzwilliam. Upon receipt of a personal letter to her, she would vanish to read it in private, but when a missive arrived for her brother, she would search for him throughout the house and urge him to immediately read it aloud. I grew more and more anxious as to her reaction when Richard revealed his plans to leave the country.

My foreboding was not in vain.

The colonel arrived the day before Georgiana's birthday, January 30th, and he spent 10 days with us, days in which the weather turned bitterly cold and forced us to keep to the house the majority of the time. The day before he was to return to his regiment, however, we were blessed with an absolutely beautiful, sunny morning. The wind stilled, the temperature rose, and the warmth of the sun felt like heaven's kiss shining upon my face. After breakfast, Mr. Darcy suggested that he and the colonel go riding and when Georgiana asked to be included, he agreed. I begged off, as I had not been feeling well the past few days, and assured my husband that I would be quite content to curl up by the fire with a new novel he had recently brought me from the bookstore in Lambton. They were gone for much of the day and I found myself enjoying the unusual solitude. I slept some and by the time they returned, I was feeling better, a fortunate turn of events, for I needed all my resources to deal with the tempest that blew into our house with the arrival of my sister-in-law.

"Oh, Richard, I cannot believe this! I refuse to believe it!" she cried.

"Georgie, pray listen to me," he pleaded to no avail, for she ran past the drawing room and up the staircase to her room, her sobs evident for all to hear.

I rose from my chair before the fire and walked to the doorway, frowning and worried. "Richard? What has happened? Is someone hurt?" I asked.

He started up the stairs, but stopped at my words and the addition of Mr. Darcy, who had just walked in from outside. I had never seen such worry upon the colonel's expression before and feared that something terrible had happened. I was quite relieved to see that all three of them were not injured as far as I could tell.

"Her behaviour is insupportable!" William exclaimed. "Why should she be so distressed?"

"Will someone tell me what is the matter?" I asked again.

Both gentlemen walked with me into the drawing room so that we would no longer discuss such matters in front of the servants. William threw his gloves and hat on a small table and began to pace back and forth. "I must go to her," he said. "I shall tell her she is acting like a child."

"William, Richard, one of you must tell me what is wrong with Georgiana?"

Colonel Fitzwilliam sighed and gave me a long look. "I told her that I would be leaving for Spain next week."

"Oh, Richard, that soon?" I said.

He nodded and William stopped pacing. "I fail to see why this upsets my sister so? She knows you are an officer and the army is sent abroad from time to time. Does she expect you to be exempt from such duties? Why, Fitz, you were in France a few years ago and I do not remember Georgiana having such a reaction."

"Perhaps she was not old enough then to think of the danger," I said. "She now is aware that the colonel will be facing the enemy when he goes to Spain."

"There is little chance of my actually fighting," Richard said. "In my position I am usually with the commanding officers, overseeing things from a safe distance. Georgie need have little worry for my safety."

"Should you not go up and reassure her?" I suggested.

"No," William announced. "I shall deal with Georgiana. I will not have her behaving in this manner." He began walking toward the door.

"William," I said quickly. "Why not let me go to her? A woman's touch may be what she really needs right now."

He looked at me just long enough to listen, but shook his head. "You may go after I am done, Elizabeth. For now, I want to know what is at the bottom of all this." With that, he walked out the door and we could hear him rapidly climbing the stairs.

"Oh, I do wish he had listened to me," I said, sinking down upon the sofa. "Colonel, must you truly go? Can you not see that Georgiana will be lost without you?"

"I cannot stay," he answered. "Once orders are given, there is no going back, and besides, I still think it best that I leave."

"But why? I confess I do not truly understand your reasoning."

"Elizabeth, I have thought about this for a long time, dwelt upon it, in fact. I am 16 years Georgiana's senior. I remember holding her as a babe; she was the most beautiful child I had ever seen. That is all she was to me for the longest time, my dearest little cousin, and then when her father died and he named me guardian along with Darcy, I felt even closer to her and I suppose more protective, if that is possible. She has always been like a little bird, tiny and fragile. Like Darce, I, too, longed to keep her locked up somewhere . . . somewhere no one could ever hurt her. But we failed. We both failed." He walked to the window and stared out through the trees at the sunlight now fading.

"Richard, you cannot hold yourself responsible for what happened to Georgiana with Mr. Wickham. You and William did all that you could to provide a safe environment for her. It is neither your fault nor his that all of you were deceived."

"I acknowledge the truth of your statement in my mind, but somehow my heart refuses to accept it. All I know is that when she was recovered and brought back, Georgiana was no longer a child in my eyes. Oh, I still tease her; I think I call her 'Sprout' to cover my own feelings, to try to convince myself that she is still but a girl and not blossoming into a young woman. I confess that I have seldom seen a face or figure more pleasing to me than hers, but I am a partial old friend. I love to look at her . . . indeed, I could look at her forever for I have truly fallen in love with her." He stood half in shadow and yet the fading sunlight was just enough that I could see the anguish upon his countenance.

I rose and joined him at the window. "And is it inconceivable that she may love you as well?"

He pressed his lips together and shook his head. "Of course she loves me. We have loved each other as cousins all our lives, but no, she is not old enough to know what mature love is, to return the measure of love that I feel. Do you not see, Elizabeth, that I cannot place that burden upon her? She needs time . . . her time in the sun and with you as her sister, I know that she will have it. Oh, Darce will fight you right and left, but you must be strong for her. Work your charm on him and make him see that he must let her go. When she comes out in the spring, he must not discourage the young men who come calling, only make certain they are worthy. I am not courageous enough for the task and that is why I must leave. But you can, Elizabeth, and you can make Darcy accept it. Let Georgiana have her chance."

"Do you not fear the possibility that she may accept a suitor and marry?"

He stared at the floor but not before I saw him wince. "I do," he said, his voice barely audible. "Perchance that would be best. I want her to fall in love, to know the ecstasy and misery such feelings cause, and yet I cannot bring myself to witness it. You and Darcy must sustain her through this."

I put my hand on his arm for but a moment, for I longed to comfort him somehow. If my heart was breaking to witness this sacrifice, what must he be feeling? "I shall do what I can, Richard," I said softly, but I did not feel that it would be near enough.

William walked into the room just then. "Elizabeth, she wants you."

I nodded and left them, wondering what had transpired between brother and sister. Upstairs I found a subdued, chastened young girl with stains of tears still on her face. I poured some water into a basin, moistened a cloth and gently wiped her cheeks. "Can I help you, Georgiana?"

She shook her head and sighed. "Wills says I am acting like a spoilt child and I know that he is right. I do not understand why I am so upset. Richard has gone away time and again and he has always come back. He will return this time, will he not?"

"Of course," I said quickly, although I chewed my lip afterwards. I did not want to bring up the chances a soldier takes in war no matter how lightly Richard dismissed them, and I hoped that she would not think of them.

"It is just that I am so afraid to face my debut in town without him."

"Your brother and I will be with you, Georgiana, as well as Lord and Lady Matlock. You do not have to do it alone."

"I know that, but Wills cannot dance with me. Richard would and he is such a divine dancer."

I turned away and closed my eyes, acknowledging then that Richard was correct. In many ways Georgiana was still so young, her greatest worry being whom she would dance with. "There will be many young men who will dance with you," I said lightly.

"Will there? What if no one asks me?"

I smiled. "You worry in vain. I am sure you will be vastly popular."

"Oh, no, I do not wish to be popular. The very thought of having to make conversation with all those strangers frightens me exceedingly. With Richard there, I should always have someone at my side and I could dance with him instead, if I was alarmed by one who asked for my hand. Elizabeth, I do not know why I am saying all this or why his leaving upsets me so. I feel very confused."

"Welcome to growing up, my dear," I said, patting her hand.

"I thought confusion never plagued adults, that they always know what is best."

"In truth? Hardly ever. That is a myth we tell children. Now that I am grown, I know it only too well."

The faint semblance of a smile played about her countenance and I embraced her and patted her back. "All will be well, Georgiana. I truly believe that." She rose from the bed then and, after washing her face, accompanied me to join the men below stairs. The evening progressed without further unpleasantness, although both Georgiana and the colonel were unusually subdued. She agreed to play his favourite selections on the pianoforte and I noticed the wistful, yearning expression in his eyes as he watched her performance.

Later that night in the drawing room, however, after Richard and Georgiana had retired Mr. Darcy returned to the earlier incident. "Elizabeth, did you learn what was behind Georgiana's ill pleasure this afternoon? She made little sense to me."

I closed my eyes and prayed for wisdom. I desired to be honest with my husband and yet I did not want to betray Richard's confidence. "I think Georgiana is simply afraid of the future, William. She expressed qualms regarding her coming out in the spring and especially without Richard by her side. She relies on him more than we know."

"They have always enjoyed a close camaraderie, but surely she understands that he cannot entirely shield her from society's perusal. And does she not consider me adequate protection against any roués or rakes who may come calling?"

"Oh, I am certain you will do all that is necessary in that regard," I said quickly. "Perhaps even more than is necessary," I added under my breath.

Unfortunately, he heard me. "Elizabeth. Do I detect a complaint in that last remark?"

"Not a complaint, sir, just a statement of fact."

"I do not understand."

"William, you know that you are far too protective of Georgiana. I fear that the coming season shall prove quite difficult for you."

"How can you say that? After what happened with Wickham, how can I be too protective?"

"I was 15 when that happened, Wills," Georgiana said, startling both of us by her return to the room.

"We thought you had retired, dear," I said quickly.

"I came back for a book I left over there," she replied, crossing the room to the chair in which she had sat earlier. "And Wills, I am no longer that same girl. Must I suffer for it the rest of my life?"

"Georgiana," he said forcefully. "I did not mean to infer in any way that you were responsible. Let us drop the subject."

"But I was responsible!" she insisted. "When will you or Richard ever accept that? I listened to Mr. Wickham's flattery; I allowed myself to be seduced by his pretty words; I knew enough to know that elopement was not the proper way in which to marry, and yet I agreed to it. He is not the only one at fault."

"Georgiana!" Mr. Darcy said even louder. "We shall not discuss this further. You know my wishes on the subject."

"Yes, I do," she replied in a barely audible voice, obviously chastened, "but do you know mine, Wills? Has anyone other than Elizabeth ever asked me about my feelings?"

"Elizabeth?" Mr. Darcy turned to glare at me. "Have you discussed that unforgivable occurrence with my sister in direct contradiction to my orders?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but Georgiana interrupted me. "Only when I brought it up, Wills. Please do not blame Elizabeth."

"I do not want that incident ever spoken of again. Do I make myself clear?" Mr. Darcy said, his tone deadly.

Georgiana nodded and keeping her eyes on the floor, she sank down on the sofa and began to cry quietly. I started toward her when Mr. Darcy spoke again. "Elizabeth, do you understand me?"

I turned and glared at him and wanted to cry, Only too well, sir! And do you understand that you are the most insensitive, obstinate man who ever lived? But I swallowed my ire and nodded. We both turned our faces from each other then and I bit my tongue until I could taste blood. Remember, 'a soft answer turneth away wrath,' ¹ I repeated to myself, for I had begun spending time in the Old Testament book of Proverbs since learning it had been a favourite of Mr. Darcy's mother. I walked to the sofa and sat beside Georgiana, taking her hand in mine. By that time I had regulated my breathing and I lowered my tone before I spoke.

"William, I pray that you will hear what I say. Neither Georgiana nor I set out to go against your wishes."

"Oh, no, Wills," Georgiana added. "We would never do that. It is just that . . ."

"Just what?" he demanded.

"Sometimes," Georgiana said, "I think Richard may be leaving because of what . . . you will not allow me to speak of."

"My dear," I said. "What are you saying? What happened to you has nothing to do with Richard leaving."

"It may, Elizabeth," she said. "After I returned from Ramsgate, I sensed a difference in him. Oh, he is the same in his affection and care, but at times I find him looking at me in an unusual manner, as though I am no longer myself. I feel damaged, that I shall never be good enough again in either Richard's or William's eyes, so how can I be good enough to face society?"

"Oh, no," I said, putting my arms around her, as she began to cry anew. "You are wrong, dearest. William, tell her she is wrong."

He joined us immediately and took her into his arms, cradling her head upon his chest. "Georgiana, please do not cry. Elizabeth is correct. You are not damaged. You are as beautiful and whole and innocent as before it ever happened."

"I am not innocent, Wills," she said between sobs. "I allowed Mr. Wickham to . . . to kiss me and more than once."

William's eyes met mine and I saw greater anger flash within his. I tried desperately to signal him not to react in that manner, slightly shaking my head and beseeching him with a look. When he remained silent, I knew that he could not speak without saying more than he should, and so I said, "Georgiana, is that all? Is a kiss all that happened between you and Mr. Wickham?"

"Why, yes, of course, but is that not bad enough?"

"It is enough," I said, looking back at William's relieved expression, "but no real harm has occurred. And you are mistaken in taking the blame for what happened. Compared to Mr. Wickham, you were an innocent child and he took advantage of your naivety, he and Mrs. Younge. I know of Mr. Wickham's charm only too well for I, too, was fooled by it in the past."

She turned away from her brother then to look at me. "You, Elizabeth?"

When I nodded, he interrupted. "This does not need to be spoken of. I want the discussion to end."

"Wills, I pray you," Georgiana said and I was surprised at the depth of pleading in her tone. "I need to know how Mr. Wickham prevailed upon Elizabeth . . . that is, if she is willing to tell me."

"But why?" he declared, looking totally bewildered. "Why must you talk of a subject that evokes nothing but pain?"

"To be heard," I said gently. "To know we are not alone in our foolishness. Sir, this is what women do. It is, perhaps, our fate rather than our merit. We cannot help ourselves. We live at home, quiet, confined, and our feelings prey upon us. You are forced on exertion. You have always pursuits, business of some sort or other, to take you back into the world immediately, and continual occupation and change soon weaken impressions. You need not talk of such things, but you must allow us."

William looked at me as though I spoke a foreign language; to his credit, however, he made no further demand, but stalked across the room to stare out the window. I took Georgiana's hand and began to tell her the story of when I first met Mr. Wickham in Meryton and of how I, as well as most of the folk in Hertfordshire, believed the false story he spread about her brother. She was horrified, of course, and said, "When did you learn the truth, Elizabeth?"

"Last Easter when I was visiting in Kent. William wrote me a letter and told me of Mr. Wickham's true nature."

"Was that the letter I saw you re-reading in your chamber when Wills was in London?"

I nodded and saw Mr. Darcy turn and look directly at me, a question in his eyes. He did not interrupt us, though, and so I continued, telling how Mr. Wickham had seduced my youngest sister last summer and how he never would have married her if not for Mr. Darcy's generous intervention. She looked at her brother with a new look of admiration. "So that is what caused you to leave Pemberley with such haste last July," she said to him. He did not reply and turned back to the window, but I nodded in agreement with her statement.

"Can you now understand, Georgiana, that you were not at fault to believe Mr. Wickham? The man is a master at deception and your admiration of him was based on lies, but perfectly understandable."

"Do you think Richard shares your acquittal of me?"

"Of course he does," William said quickly. "You must never believe that you were at fault again, Georgiana, not in mine or Elizabeth's eyes, and certainly not in Fitzwilliam's. Shall we now let the incident die once and for all?"

He had left the window and come to stand before us. Taking Georgiana's hands, he lifted her to meet his gaze. "Yes, Wills," she said, "but please allow Elizabeth and I to sort things out from now on. If you truly want us to be sisters, grant us this comfort and no longer declare that certain things will not be mentioned in this house."

Mr. Darcy sighed and nodded ever so slightly in agreement, but after his sister left the room, I watched his brows knit together in a frown and I could see how he struggled to repress his emotions. Georgiana's request went against all that he had ever known. He had spent his entire life avoiding discussion of personal subjects, as his father before him had done, but now his young sister was asking for her independence from such censure, and he was only too aware that it had come about because of my influence.

With a somewhat weary gesture, he sat down in a large chair before the fire, leaning back, his hand upon his mouth, while he stared at the flames. I knelt before him and took his other hand in mine. "Are you angry with me, William?" I asked softly.

He shook his head, but his expression did not change and he continued to gaze at the fire.

"You do believe that I have had undue influence upon your sister, do you not?" When he made no response, I continued. "I might remind you that is the very reason you married me. You asked that my lively ways might somehow affect her spirits."

He met my eyes then. "That was the reason I gave for marrying you, but we both now know the truth."

I smiled, aware that his voice had grown deeper and less troubled. "Yes, and do not think that I am ungrateful for your love, but still I take my obligation toward your sister seriously. I know that I have caused you unhappiness by forcing this issue to come to light."

He sighed again. "I cannot blame you. If there was any force, it was done by my sister's distress and although I hate to admit it, probably for the best. Open discussion of hurtful occurrences is not easy for me, Elizabeth, but if my carrying forward the pattern I learned from my father harms Georgiana, then I must change, no matter how painful that change is to me."

"You are exceptionally brave, my love," I said, taking his face in mine.

"No, I am not, and I am in dire need of comforting at this moment."

I began to kiss his lips, softly and tenderly. "Does this help?" I murmured.

"Hmm . . . a little. I cannot tell for sure. Perhaps you should try it again."

He gathered me onto his lap then and I proceeded to comfort him in such a way that we both derived great benefit.

We bid Colonel Fitzwilliam adieu the next morning. Georgiana tried her best, but she could not halt the tears spilling from her eyes. As Mr. Darcy gave last minute orders to the driver, Richard kissed my young sister's hand.

"Oh, Richard!" she cried, flinging herself into his arms. "Promise me you will return soon."

He embraced her tenderly and his eyes met mine as he kissed her hair. "There is no need to fret, Sprout. I shall be back before you know it. After all, I cannot miss dancing at your wedding." Although his words were spoken in jest, the pain in his eyes was unmistakable. Mr. Darcy and I stood beside her as she waved until the departing carriage could no longer be seen in the distance.

"Surely, he will not be gone too long," Georgiana said, her voice breaking.

"Of course not," Mr. Darcy said. "You know Fitzwilliam. He shows up when you least expect him. I would not be at all surprised to see him return within six months or less."

My husband's prediction was in error, however. We did not see Colonel Fitzwilliam for four long years and a great many things can happen in that length of time.

1. Proverbs 15:1

Chapter 16: Conclusion

Posted on Friday, 16 July 2004

We traveled to Hertfordshire in early March for Jane's wedding to Mr. Bingley. It had been an exceptionally cold winter and I was thrilled to now see vestiges of spring beginning to appear in the countryside. We were to stay at Netherfield, for that great house contained much more adequate room than Longbourn for Georgiana, Mr. Darcy, and I, along with our maids, valet, and other servants. As we climbed the stone steps leading to the entryway, vivid memories washed over me, transporting me back to an earlier year. The last time I had entered that house, I had danced with Mr. Darcy and deemed him the best dancer I had ever encountered, but surely the most difficult man to understand upon the face of the earth. My, how much my opinion had altered in little more than a year!

Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, as well as Miss Bingley, were also in attendance at the estate and thus, Georgiana and I oft times found ourselves spending much of the day at Longbourn. My sister-in-law much preferred the general noisy uproar of my old home to the stilted, hypocritical remarks Mr. Bingley's sisters inflicted upon the general conversation. Back and forth, their talk would swing from gushing over 'dear Georgiana' to thinly veiled, sniping remarks aimed at my mother and younger sisters, lamenting the fact that their only brother was marrying down in the world. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley, along with Mr. Hurst, escaped as early as possible each morning to their retreat of sport, and so the superior sisters found themselves in the sole company of each other for most of the days preceding the wedding.

Mamma, naturally, was almost hysterical in her preparations for the nuptials. I did my best to relieve Jane of her oppression and welcomed my Aunt Philips' daily attendance, as it at least gave Jane and I some respite and chance to be alone with each other. Of course, Mrs. Philips had returned to her tiresome habit of quoting proverbs and I vowed to Jane that I might engage in a desperate act if I heard Happy is the bride that the sun shines on one more time. One morning, after she glanced outside at the approaching clouds and then uttered it for the 15th time, I finally spoke up.

"I would not put much stock in that old saying, Aunt, for I can testify it takes more than sunshine to make a happy bride."

"Now, Lizzy," she replied, "these old sayings, as you call them, have stood me in good stead for many a year and I will have you know I have been proved false on nary a one."

"But Aunt, surely you must recall, it poured on my wedding day and yet I find myself quite cheerful."

She tsked tsked over my rebuttal and tried to think of another appropriate adage to salvage her opinion with, but I conveniently remembered a task calling me to another room, and made my escape. In fact, I had endured all of the close family contact I could for the present and, seeing that Georgiana was happily trimming bonnets with Kitty, I grabbed my shawl and bonnet and skipped out the back door. I longed for a walk in the old, familiar woods and the weather was mild enough to accommodate me. I reveled in the beginning buds popping out on trees and shrubs and the touch of scarlet the crocuses provided as they peeked out for a look at this new season.

I walked no little way that afternoon and after awhile, seeing the sun begin to lower in the sky, I observed that I should begin to make my way back to my mother's house. Before I returned, though, I climbed the small hill behind Longbourn Village and walked through the gates fronting the cemetery where my father was buried. I could not walk those lanes and woods without thinking of him, without recalling how I had lost him at almost this very time only a year ago. Finding his grave, I knelt and placed upon it the small bouquet of wild blooms I had gathered. I ran my fingers across the roughly carved letters of his name and the dates of his birth and death below.

"Oh, Papa," I whispered, as a tear escaped and ran down my cheek, "I miss you so." I allowed myself to cry a bit and then blew my nose and began to recall happier times. I could still see the twinkle in his eye and that sly, unreadable expression about his face when he made one of his droll statements, usually at my mother's expense, the meaning of which she never seemed to grasp. I remembered the talks we enjoyed in his study or walking about the grounds at Longbourn, how he could not wait for me to share a new book he received and enter into a long discussion of its merits. Although neither a perfect man nor parent, he had been a very dear father and I missed him most heartily.

I began to speak to him aloud in that way people have spoken to their departed loved ones for centuries, longing to feel a bit of communion with one another again.

"How I wish you were here to see Jane marry, Papa. She will make such a beautiful bride, but of course, you have always known that. Mr. Gardiner shall escort her down the aisle, but do not think he can replace you, for that is impossible. You need not worry about her, though, for I believe she and Mr. Bingley will be happily settled. Their tempers are by no means unlike, each of them so complying that nothing will ever be resolved on; so easy that every servant will cheat them; and so generous that they will always exceed their income."

I could not help but smile to think that my father would most probably have uttered that very statement had he been there. Our minds had been much alike and we had enjoyed a compatibility of temper and humor unlike anyone else in our family. I sat back upon the damp ground, looking up as the light wind rustled the new leaves on the trees, now causing my curls to blow slightly. I was glad that my father was buried there, for it was a beautiful spot and if one looked off in the distance, the spire of Longbourn Church could be seen faintly through the trees. As I lowered my gaze, I was surprised to see a man's figure emerge from the wood, growing ever closer as he walked toward me.

I smiled upon recognition of William's familiar gait and long legs. Hastily, I tried to brush aside the tears from my cheeks and began to rise. He put out his hand, motioning me to stay where I was. "Do not get up, dearest, unless this ground is too uncomfortable for you," he said, kneeling beside me and with one finger under my chin, tipped my face up to meet his. "You have been weeping," he said, gently rubbing his thumb across my cheek.

"How did you know to find me here?" I asked.

"I did not," he replied. "I have combed those woods behind us for a good half-hour, looking for you. This place was my final quest before returning to Longbourn. Are you cold? Shall I give you my coat?"

I shook my head. "I am fine, William. Do not worry so. After several hours of Mamma's endless fluttering and Mrs. Philips' proverbs, I was desperate to find a peaceful spot."

"I see you have been picking flowers for your father."

"Yes, and telling him of Jane's wedding. Oh, how I wish he could be here."

"As do I," he said, putting his arm around me and holding me close. "Have you told him of our news?"

"Not yet," I said softly, and then placed my hand upon the gravestone. "Papa, come next October, Mr. Darcy and I shall make you a grandfather."

"Surely, he would want a granddaughter the image of you," William said.

"I am not so certain of that. After spending his life amongst scads of women, my father might now prefer the addition of a man-child to his family."

"Either way, as long as the babe looks like you, I shall be happy."

"A short, scrawny boy will not do, William. Let us hope that any son we have will inherit your good looks and my excellent temper," I said, cheekily, taking his hand and placing it upon my stomach. "I fear that I shall not be slim for long. I am hoping I can hide it until after Jane's wedding."

"So you have told neither your mother nor sisters?"

I shook my head. "It shall be our secret for now, yours, mine and my father's."

He smiled and, kissing my nose, he hugged me even closer. "And if it is a boy, shall we name him for your father and mine?"

"I would love that, William." I agreed.

"Are you ready to leave, my love? You should not sit on damp ground too long and the sun is beginning to set."

I nodded and allowed him to help me rise. I ran my hand over my father's stone once more and stooped to place a kiss upon it, but I did not cry again. Instead, I tucked my hand in my husband's arm and allowed him to lead me down the hill, leaning upon him for my support.

A week after the wedding, we traveled from Netherfield to London. Arriving a bit early for the season but having much to do to insure Georgiana's debut, it was only practical that we do so. In spite of her misgivings and nerves, she made a lovely appearance upon society and, just as the good colonel had predicted, young men lined up to not only dance with her, but to call upon her from then on. I spent my days advising her on pertinent topics of conversation, serving as chaperone and consoling my husband's distraught nerves at the number of beaus now filling up our townhouse. More and more I hoped that our child would be a boy, for if William was this particular about his sister, how would his daughter ever survive?

Surprisingly, I made it through the four months of balls and parties without physically showing that I was with child until near the close of the season, mainly because I suffered nausea morning and night and gained very little weight. Fiona proved to be of invaluable aid, for she not only could commiserate with my plight, but she had several old Scottish remedies that relieved my suffering for short periods. By the time we returned to Pemberley in July, my sickness vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and I soon began to put on weight and achieve that glow that surrounds expectant mothers.

My confinement proceeded without incident and our first son was born on October 28th at four o'clock in the morning, barely more than a year after Mr. Darcy and I had entered into our arranged marriage. I elected to nurse him myself rather than secure the services of a wet nurse and I gloried in motherhood, marveling daily that this beautiful little person had come into my life. He was the image of his father and I laughed often, seeing exactly how William would have looked as a babe. When his tiny brows knit together in a frown, I could see a miniature Mr. Darcy tuning up to holler, and when I coaxed him into a smile, I delighted in seeing those same dimples light up his little face.

Fiona surprised us six months later by announcing that she was leaving Pemberley's service. It seemed that one of Mr. Darcy's tenants, a Mr. Martin MacAdams, had been courting her right beneath our noses and she had at last agreed to marry him. I hated to see her leave, for I had grown to rely upon her excellent services, but at the same time I rejoiced to see her find someone who loved her and Willie and would give them a home of their own. We attended their wedding in the small village church and I smiled when Fiona entered, wearing the lace-trimmed shawl I had given her the year before at Christmastide.

That next summer, news came from Longbourn that Kitty was to marry the local curate, Mr. James Morris. She had spent much time at Netherfield and under Jane's gentle tutelage, she had matured into a much quieter, dignified young woman. Mamma was upset at first, still desiring a more advantageous match for her, but with Jane and Mr. Bingley's influence, she was soon made to see the wisdom of the match, for the young man was truly in love with Kitty and she with him.

I wish I could say that Mary made a like marriage, but it was not to be. Instead, once she was left the only daughter at Longbourn, she began to write. Like water bubbling forth from a spring, words poured from her pen and upon sending them to my aunt in town for her enjoyment, Mr. Gardiner was actually able to find an editor there who wished to publish her stories. I confess that I was speechless after reading the first such edition, for I fully expected a spinsterish version of Fordyce's Sermons aimed at warning young women of the perils of too many balls, unchecked flirting, and the dangers of the opposite sex. Instead, Mary wrote witty, satiric romances based on thinly veiled characterizations of my mother and younger sisters, and she oftentimes fashioned a heroine who appeared to be a composite of Jane and myself. The books became so popular she eventually took a house in London where she enjoyed the company of many cultured and erudite persons of the arts. I wonder that Papa did not turn over in his grave to see such an unexpected change in his quietest of daughters.

Lydia, as expected, lived the sort of life all of us feared that she would. Mr. Wickham's enchantment with her soon evaporated and we heard rumours of his seeking excitement elsewhere. She, however, continued to enjoy the advantages of being a married woman and carved out an existence among military society in Newcastle, enjoying the favour and attention of officers and their wives because of her effervescent personality. Jane and I were both asked for frequent monetary assistance and we, of course, helped our youngest sister whenever we could.

Jane and Mr. Bingley left Hertfordshire two years after their marriage and bought a house in a neighbouring county of Derbyshire, a mere 30 miles from Pemberley. This, of course, pleased my sister and I excessively and we enjoyed raising our families together. Jane gave birth to two daughters in quick succession and I am happy to say they not only inherited their mother's pretty blonde curls, but their father's sunny disposition as well.

As for Georgiana, it was evident that she was to marry someone from our own neighbourhood in Derbyshire: Mr. Darnley's eldest son. Of all the young men paying her attentions, he impressed Mr. Darcy as the only one possibly qualified to be her husband. He asked and was granted permission to court her and did so for some length of time. Georgiana seemed to care for him - when questioned, she said she did not find him unattractive - but after many months when he asked for her hand, she turned him down. My husband and I both were surprised at this turn of events, but as William said, "She is still very young, not quite one and twenty. There is plenty of time."

At that time, I had given birth to my second son some two months before and was just given permission by the doctor to walk in the gardens at Pemberley. The day after Mr. Darnley's refusal, I came upon my sister-in-law sitting on a bench among the rhododendrons. She seemed oblivious to her surroundings, a far-away look in her eyes, a wistful expression playing about her countenance.

"Georgiana," I said, "may I intrude upon your idyll? I hope you are not growing melancholy since you have made your decision regarding Mr. Darnley."

She looked up quickly and returned to the present. "Of course you may join me, Elizabeth, and no, although I hated to hurt the gentleman's feelings, I do not regret what I have done."

Her presence of mind impressed me. Indeed, Georgiana's growth into a mature, self-assured young woman pleased me greatly. I could not help but hope that my influence had helped this to come about.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Wonderful, now that I am allowed out of doors."

"I know that it is difficult for you to be so confined, loving to walk as much as you do." I nodded and she continued. "I was just recalling a day that Richard and I came upon you on that bench at the edge of the lawn, hidden away, reading a letter. I believe it was not long after you and William married and only a few days before the Harvest Ball."

"Mmm," I said, "I think you are correct, and I recall that letter as being very important to me."

"You seem so much happier now than you were those first months of your marriage."

"I am, but why should I not be with two fine sons and the love of your brother?"

Georgiana smiled and looked away. "I am glad you and William made a love match, but your example makes it difficult for me to even think about marriage."

"Why, Georgiana, what causes you to say that?"

"I look upon your marriage as ideal, Elizabeth. I want the same for myself."

"My dear, your brother and I do not live perfect lives. You are well aware that we often disagree and even argue."

"Yes, but it never lasts for long. You may quarrel one day, but by the next morning, all is made right. I desire that kind of union."

"Well, you shall have it," I said, emphatically. "Mr. Darnley may not be the right man for you, but you are still very young, Georgiana. There will be other men to choose from. In truth, once word gets out that you have refused him, I am certain there will be a steady stream of gentlemen callers to plague your brother all over again."

She frowned and looking away, remained silent for a while. I rose and began snipping a bouquet of marguerites and daisies, placing them in the basket I carried on my arm. It was not long before she took the basket from me, offering to carry it while I made the cuttings.

"Elizabeth, has Wills heard from Richard lately? It seems as though he has been gone forever. He has not written to me in more than six months and I sometimes fear he has forgotten me."

I pressed my lips together, beginning to bite my bottom lip. I dreaded to relate the news we had just received the evening before.

"Elizabeth?" she said again, walking in front of me so that she could see my expression. "What is it? Has something happened to him?"

I took her hand and led her back to the bench. "A letter came from Lord Matlock late last evening. Colonel Fitzwilliam is in London, staying at Eden Park."

"Eden Park!" she exclaimed, her eyes aglow. "He has returned to England at last! It has been four years, Elizabeth. Do you realize he has been out of the country that long?" I nodded and could not help but see that those four years had not diminished Georgiana's feelings for her cousin. I wondered, though, what all had happened to him.

"I shall go in and write to him immediately, asking him to visit us here at Pemberley," she announced, rising from the bench and turning in the direction of the house.

I put my hand on her arm and stopped her. "Georgiana, a moment, please. There is something you must know."

"What is it?"

"The colonel has been injured in the war."

"Injured! In what way?" she cried, sinking back onto the bench beside me.

"A sword wound to his leg."

She made a small cry, much like an animal that has been caught in a snare. "But he will be all right, will he not?"

"Aye, the Earl said that he would survive, but he will walk with a limp the rest of his life."

Tears had formed in her lovely blue eyes and threatened to spill over at any moment. "Oh, my dear Richard. I cannot bear to think of him being hurt. I must go to him. We must all go to him immediately." She jumped up and began walking toward the house with great haste. "Where is Wills? He must make plans for us to leave this very day!"

William, of course, made no such plans. He was unwilling to leave our new son and me, and since I was unable to travel yet, a great argument arose between brother and sister. Back and forth they volleyed reasons for and against such a trip, but at long last, Georgiana would not be dissuaded. Eventually, William gave in to her pleading and agreed she could travel to London, but only if her former companion, Mrs. Annesley, would leave her house in Lambton where she had retired some years ago, and accompany her. Georgiana was such a favourite of the older lady that she was easily persuaded to make the trip. The next day the ladies and their maids, four of Mr. Darcy's most trusted footmen, and his most careful driver transported my sister-in-law to Eden Park. Against her brother's will and truly against any reasoning he put forth, she had insisted that she would go.

As we watched the carriage drive out of the park, William sighed and swore once again. "This stubborn streak in Georgiana is most unattractive. I know not from where it comes!"

I held my breath to keep from laughing aloud. The two of them grew more alike in temperament each day, but neither of them could see it.

Our annual Harvest Ball took place at the end of September that year, an event William and I both relished because of the special memories it evoked between us. I was somewhat surprised that Georgiana had not returned by that time, since it still remained her favourite party of the year. As I attempted to read through the lines of her sporadic letters, I could only hope that her relationship with the colonel was progressing. It appeared that Richard was in low spirits since his injury had necessitated his retirement from the military. I wondered if he would now consider himself even less qualified to ask for Georgiana's hand or, for that matter, whether he still cared for her in that manner. After all, they had been apart over four years and none of us had seen him during that time. I felt certain that my sister-in-law cared deeply for him, else why would she turn down every eligible young man who had attempted to court her. Perchance, however, I was playing the romantic and it would not turn out as I hoped after all. William, of course, knew nothing of all this. He was as hopelessly blind as always to his sister's feelings, although he had learned to allow her to express them. We had made some little progress during the years.

That night at the ball (as we had done every year), Mr. Darcy and I stole away for a few moments, deserting our guests to return to the stable and the haystack just out its back door. A full moon shone once again as though we had ordered it, when William and I dropped upon the mound of hay and he began to kiss me. The years had not diminished the thrill of his touch, nor had I grown immune to the delicious taste of his kisses. If anything, I was more like putty in his hands than ever, for I knew full well the pleasure he could give me and I could see the joy in his eyes when he provoked that response in me that pleaded for more.

"Can you still recall that night when first we kissed in this very spot?" he asked.

"How can I not?" I replied, raking my hands through his curls.

"Why did you run from me, Elizabeth? I have always wanted to know."

I shook my head. "I still do not have an answer, William. Perhaps I wanted to know whether you would come after me, whether you truly wanted me."

"I was born wanting you. I may not have known it at the time, but I believe I searched for you all of my life."

Those words and the tender look in his eyes reduced me to a helpless muddle once again and we struggled desperately to contain our passion; after many kisses and close embraces, we rose to return to our guests. He, of course, brushed the hay from my person, but I, in turn, spent no little time in doing the same to his backside, a task I deliberately took my time doing.

Among the numerous surprises I had encountered from my husband since our marriage, his romantic sensibility was one that I never expected. He seemed to recall each and every time we had done something for the first time. Before Mr. Bingley's wedding to Jane at Netherfield, one evening Mr. Darcy had summoned two musicians and asked them to play the very song we had first danced to. The only ones in the ballroom, he led me through the dance as though we were at a fancy dress ball. I attempted to stifle my laughter but it was impossible when, at the end of the number, we saw Caroline and Mrs. Hurst standing in the doorway with shocked, but obviously envious expressions upon their countenances.

At the townhouse in London, the adjoining door between our chambers stood open permanently. Indeed, it might as well have been removed for it no longer barred either of us from the other. My sleep walking adventures ceased as quickly as they had appeared, once I spent every night in my husband's bed.

In an intimate moment, Mr. Darcy even admitted that the night he surprised me in my bath, he had, indeed, seen me stretch my leg up in the air and run warm water down it. That sight had caused him to stand transfixed, unable to turn away, as he should have done. By the time he made that confession, of course, all I could do was smile, for the shock and anger I had felt that night had vanished forever.

Many evenings when Georgiana was away, after dinner Mr. Darcy would lead me into the billiards room, where he continued to instruct me in the proper way to play the game. I must confess I was a very slow learner and it took much patience and intimate demonstrations before either of us felt that I had mastered the game. I never did understand the point of the game, unless it was to allow lovers the opportunity to be in close proximity while being tutored.

In like manner, I had yet to learn the Italian language, and even still required my husband to translate the words of particularly romantic arias in my ear when we attended recitals and concerts. He must have thought me quite thick to make such slow progress in my studies of the foreign tongue, but he had never complained, patient soul that he is.

Upon more occasions than I can remember, when rainstorms struck Pemberley at night William and I would steal away to spend the evening in his old chamber at the end of the hall. I had never allowed Mrs. Reynolds to have it transformed into a guest room. It still remained our secret haven where we had first allowed fulfillment of our great need and passionate love for each other. So, stealing away from the Harvest Ball to the haystack retreat outside had become a yearly recurrence and, I confess, one that made the entire night that much sweeter.

We had just returned to the great hall and the party when I looked across the room and saw none other than Colonel Fitzwilliam enter the room with Georgiana on his arm and Mrs. Annesley following close behind them. The older lady quickly joined some acquaintances who greeted her, and our cousin and sister moved further into the room. Richard was thinner and older than last we had seen him, and he now relied upon a cane to assist him in walking; however, his experience had only added a distinguished air about him and done little to mar his looks. We quickly crossed the room to greet them and from the sparkle in both their eyes, I could only surmise that all was well. They joined us at the head table and partook of the sumptuous feast laid before us. After dinner the colonel asked Georgiana to dance, but she protested, saying she was perfectly happy sitting beside him. He insisted, however, and led her to the floor. I know not how much pain he endured to go down the line of that dance, for he hid it well with the smile upon his face. Afterwards, though, he did not dance again and my sister-in-law, who enjoyed the art more than anything, was content to remain seated by his side for the remainder of the evening.

Two days later I came upon Mr. Darcy sitting at his desk, his face turned toward the window, so deep in contemplation he did not hear me enter the study. When I called his name, he appeared startled, as though he were returning from a great distance. I, of course, immediately questioned his inattentiveness, and he told me that Colonel Fitzwilliam had just asked his blessing on his marriage to Georgiana. Needless to say, I was thrilled, but I attempted to temper my reaction until I knew William's response.

"It seems that Lord and Lady Matlock are settling the bulk of her fortune upon him immediately. His father's title and majority of wealth will go to his elder brother, of course, but because of his mother's generous endowment, my cousin feels that he can provide for my sister more than adequately."

"And did you give your approval?" I asked.

"Yes, of course, if Fitzwilliam is Georgiana's choice."

"Oh, he is, I am sure."

He looked at me curiously. "Elizabeth, something tells me this announcement is not news to you. Am I correct?"

I looked away, searching for the right words. "I have long suspected Georgiana cared for him."

"Of course, she cared for him; we all do. I have the feeling, however, that you have known for some time that she loves him not only as a cousin, but as a man. Am I wrong?" I shook my head slightly and he pressed on. "What do you know of this matter?"

"William, I guessed that Colonel Fitzwilliam was in love with Georgiana before he left England. When I asked him, he confessed it was so, but he requested that I keep it in confidence. I feared that he might never declare his intentions, for he insisted that she have time to grow up, time to reach her own conclusions as to her feelings for him. He left without expressing his desires to her. He was too much of a gentleman to do that."

"And yet he told you," William said, a frown crossing his face. "What other secrets do you harbour that you have kept from me?"

"None. Believe me, this is the only one and I am much relieved that it is out in the open, that it has turned out so well."

Just then the colonel and Georgiana entered the room and she ran to embrace first her brother and then me. "Oh, Elizabeth, did you ever think I could be so happy?"

"I did and I rejoice with you!" I said.

When William did not add his felicitations, I nudged him slightly with my elbow and he immediately gave voice to them. Well, I thought, we are an old married couple after all, for here I am elbowing my husband, an action I thought I would never resort to!

Georgiana returned to Richard's side and tucked her hand inside his arm, her face wreathed in smiles as she looked up at him.

"Richard," I said, offering my hand to shake his, "let me congratulate you! You have won the prize."

"I have, indeed, Elizabeth. I have won the fairest flower in all of England, for my little 'Sprout' has blossomed into the loveliest rose!"

Some five weeks later, Mr. Darcy and I set out for London to attend Richard and Georgiana's wedding. It was a short engagement, to be sure, but they both declared they had been apart far too long and when Mr. Darcy voiced some objection, I reminded him that we, ourselves, had been engaged less than a fortnight before our wedding took place. Our sister had elected to be married from the majestic sanctuary in which we worshiped when we lived in town. I was somewhat surprised, thinking she would choose the small church at Derbyshire, but it turned out that both the bride and groom preferred London. Mrs. Annesley, once again, had aided us in traveling to London with Georgiana some weeks earlier to shop for her trousseau and wedding clothes and remaining with her in the townhouse until we joined them. That enabled us to refrain from taking the little ones into town with all its germs and possible fevers. We left the children with Jane and Mr. Bingley, as she was expecting her third child and, upon doctor's orders, could not travel. Although I had weaned my babe by that time, it was very difficult to leave him and his brother, but William promised we would return within a week.

Unfortunately, it began to rain the day we set out and the farther we traveled the harder it rained. The roads soon vanished, becoming soggy, muddy ruts, and we bounced around inside the carriage much as we had done on our own wedding day. When we stopped at a small village to change horses, we were dismayed to learn that up ahead the river had risen sharply and the bridge was now four foot deep in swiftly rushing water. The local villagers warned us not to proceed until the rain let up and the water receded. By that time, it was evening, the storm causing us to make very poor time.

As I entered the small, rustic inn with Mr. Darcy, a sudden wave of familiarity brushed over me and I looked around, wondering when I could ever have been here. Rarely had Mr. Darcy and I stayed at an inn, for he much preferred the comfort and luxury of our own homes, or that of our friends and family.

"You be in luck, sir," the innkeeper said, bustling about in anticipation of entertaining paying guests for the night, "the best suite - the only suite - in the house is free. Two connecting rooms, sir, right up these stairs. Just follow me."

That voice! I turned to look upon our host and yes, it was the same little man who had ushered us up those stairs in years past. This was the very place in which we had spent our wedding night. As I reached for the handrail, I remembered the burnished chocolate colour and when I looked down, I saw those same wooden steps worn to an even duller shine. At the head of the stairs, the man led us past a closed door to the so-called suite at the end of the hall. Inside, Mr. Darcy walked around inspecting the two rooms, an impatient, displeased air about him.

"Is this the best you can offer, man?" he asked.

When the innkeeper nodded, William looked at me with an apologetic expression. "Well, we have no choice. I suppose we shall have to make the best of it."

"Yes, sir," the man said, hurrying to the grate to lay a fire. "Let me get this blaze started and then I'll have my wife bring up what's needed."

"Before you do that," I said, stopping him, "did I not see another room at the head of the stairs? Is it vacant?"

"Oh, yes, Ma'am, but it be only a single room, not near as nice as this one."

"Could we see it?" I asked. Mr. Darcy frowned at me. "I would truly like to see it," I persisted.

"Yes, Ma'am," the innkeeper said, a look of confusion about his face, as he led us down the hall and opened the door. We walked into the room and immediately a rush of memories flooded my senses. Was it only yesterday that I had followed my new husband into that chamber, a most reluctant bride, fearful and angry that I had been forced into an arranged marriage? The same lumpy old chaise sat to one side, its middle sagging even more, if possible. The furnishings had not been altered in the slightest during those years, even the same worn quilt covered the bed. I walked around the room, running my fingers lightly across the small table sitting before the cold fireplace.

"I should like to stay in this room, Mr. Darcy," I said, turning to observe his reaction. I was not disappointed, for I could see the shock of recognition in his eyes, as well.

"Here, Ma'am?" the owner of the inn said, his voice incredulous. "But the other rooms be much grander."

"We shall take this room," my husband said. "Light the fire and see that our things are brought up, if you please."

The man shook his head in wonderment, but he went about doing as he had been told. When he had finished, his wife and serving girl furnished the room with clean towels and poured fresh water in the ewer. Upon their final departure, Mr. Darcy took my hands in his and brought them to his lips.

"What are the chances that we should find ourselves in this room once again?" he asked.

"And after all this time?" I replied.

"The very room we spent our wedding night," he mused, shaking his head. "A poor beginning, you must admit."

I smiled and walked over to the bed, running my hand across the quilt. "A very poor beginning," I agreed. "But I must confess that the room holds an appeal for me."

"In what way?"

"This was the first bed in which we slept together."

"A pity that neither of us were conscious of it."

"Yes," I said, turning to him, "a very great pity."

He ran his finger along the side of my face and under my chin. "I can still see the fire in your eyes that greeted me that next morning. My, but you were angry!"

"And why not?" I retorted. "You had promised to sleep on that lumpy old chaise, as I recall."

He looked at the referenced piece of furniture and then at the bed. "I did, but something drew me to your bed, Elizabeth."

"Nothing drew you, William. In truth, you were somewhat worse the wear from drink, and you stumbled into bed with me by mistake."

He slipped his arms around my waist then, and pulled me closer. "I think not, my love. I may have been inebriated, but it was never a mistake. I think an unseen force drew me to you as clearly as though we were somehow tied together. It was that same force that caused you to find your way into my bed when walking in your sleep, that led you to my portrait at Pemberley when I was still in London, that took me to that assembly at Meryton where I first laid eyes on you. We were meant to be together, to love each other, to be drawn one to the other forever. It is a force that cannot be denied."

I opened my mouth to speak, but he covered it with his own sweet lips, that delicious taste of heaven causing that familiar quickening deep within me. "Do not deny it, Elizabeth," he managed to mumble between kisses. "Do you hear me? Do not deny it."

In truth, I had no intention of denying it, but if he thought that I was and insisted on kissing me to prevent my doing so, I saw no reason to tell him otherwise. I simply surrendered to his love, an action I continue to enjoy to this very day.

The End