Darcy’s brow had furrowed as he listened to Elizabeth’s narrative. Suddenly, he let out a great guffaw. “Oh, Mrs. Elizabeth… Elizabeth, you are a wonder! Please, my friends, I ask you to drink to Mrs. Elizabeth Bennet, the future Mrs. Darcy!And, to Mr. and Mrs. Wickham, may I wish you all felicity in marriage!” Darcy rang the bell. “Winthrop, the very best Sillery and Aÿ champagne from the cellar!”
Georgiana hugged Elizabeth. “Oh, you are to be my sister! What I prayed and wished for—I am too happy.”
“Well, Elizabeth, these past few weeks have been tedious indeed, waiting for you and Darcy to recognise that you are made for each other,” said Lady Catherine, holding Elizabeth in a close embrace. “James, please fetch Miss Anne from the music room—she too has long been waiting for this happy event.”
Winthrop poured the champagne. Elizabeth, ignoring etiquette, asked that he and Mrs. Reynolds be given glasses so they too could take part in the toast. During a lull in the excited hubbub, Darcy took Wickham aside. “Well, George, you have surprised me. Do you intend to seek a position in Derbyshire, to be close to Mrs. Wickham’s family in Bakewell?”
“No, there is little for me in England; perhaps a position as a steward on a small estate, but, as you know, I have more ambition than that. Mary—Mrs. Wickham—and I have talked it over: we will migrate to New South Wales. My fortune, thanks to the kindness of Mrs. Elizabeth, is more than enough to secure land in the colony. I received a letter from Sir George Shee, Under-Secretary of State for the Colonies, with the promise of a grant of one thousand acres. Perhaps more, because—I am told—Governor Macquarie is an exceedingly generous man. Mrs. Elizabeth wrote a letter of recommendation to her uncle, Mr. Gardiner—he and I have put together a cargo to sell in the colony. There I can become, not a wealthy man, but respected for who I am, not for my birth alone.”
“I wish you well, George.” Darcy laughed—“and I promise never to tell of the time I smuggled a woman from your chambers at Cambridge. None of the proctors believed that Iwould do such a thing—the benefit of a prudish reputation, no doubt—but I am sure they would have inspected the overlarge carpet bag if you had struggled to carry it beyond the university walls.”
“Mary and I must be off, Darcy,” said Wickham, once more shaking Darcy’s hand. “Pemberley has been good to me, but theEarl Spencerwaits in Liverpool to carry us to New Holland. Take care of Mrs. Elizabeth, for she is a true jewel—I do believe Pemberley will once again come alive as it was when your dear mother, Lady Anne, was mistress.”
* * *
Chapter 28
Longbourn, January 1814
“Lizzy!” the lady cried. “’Tis our Lizzy! Mr. Bennet, she’s come home.”
The family leapt from their seats and rushed to the steps at the front of the house, decorum forgotten. On seeing them, Elizabeth began to run; she and her mother embraced, holding each other tight, having not beheld the other for more than eighteen months.
“Mama,” cried Elizabeth, tears glistening on her cheeks, “I’ve missed you so!”
“Oh, Lizzy, we were so worried about you. Of course, we had the letters, but we did not know where you had gone. Your uncle Gardiner forwarded them, but it was as though you had disappeared off the face of the earth.”
“I’m sorry, Mama,” said Elizabeth. “I was on private business for the bank, but it took far longer than anyone expected. But that is behind us now. Let me greet my sisters and Mr. Bennet, then retire to the drawing room.”
“La, Lizzy, what an elegant gown!” said Lydia, closely examining Elizabeth’s morning dress. “Is that cashmere? For it is ever so soft and fine.”
“Indeed, it was a gift. But your gown is also very fine—that fabric comes from Uncle’s warehouse, does it not? And that sash, it is exquisite.” Elizabeth smiled in recollection—her gown had been a gift from Fitzwilliam, to ward off the Derbyshire chill when walking out at Pemberley. Now, he had accompanied LadyCatherine, Anne, and Georgiana to London, and would soon return to Netherfield to stand up with Bingley at his wedding. They had yet to tell of their engagement. Although Elizabeth was of age, Darcy insisted he obtain Mr. Bennet’s blessing, and Elizabeth, that of Mrs. Bennet. But now was Jane and Mary’s time, for they were soon to be married in the parish church at Meryton—Bingley to wed Jane, and Mr. Collins to wed Mary.
“You look remarkably well, Lizzy,” said Mr. Bennet, who had come to sit with them in the parlour. “I do not know what you are about, but it sits well with you.”
“Indeed, Papa, I am well indeed. But yourself—you are about to lose two more of your daughters. How will you endure the quiet?”
“As I always do, my dear. With a good book and a glass of port in my library. I have begun Southey’sThe Life of Nelson, only published two months ago.”
“I also have had the pleasure—an excellent biography; though I disagreed with his treatment of Lady Emma Hamilton, framing her relationship with Nelson as a tragic flaw in an otherwise heroic life. I believe the lady was cruelly used by society.”
The drawing room had gone silent. Elizabeth realised that, perhaps, she had spoken out of turn. During her time with Lady Jersey, and more recently at Pemberley, she had become accustomed to speaking her mind. “Perhaps, Papa, we should talk of such things later. Now, I wish to understand how it came about that Mr. Bingley proposed to Jane, for last I heard he had gone to Town.”
“He returned about a month ago,” said Jane. “He was so unhappy that my heart felt for him. One evening, he told me he was totally ignorant of my being in Town last spring! I could not account for it.
“Would you believe it, Lizzy, that when he went to Town last November, he really loved me, and nothing but a persuasion of my being indifferent had prevented his coming down again! But he learnt of his mistake, and immediately came to Longbourn. I am certainly the most fortunate creature that ever existed! Oh! Lizzy, why am I thus singled out from my family, and blessed above them all! If I could but see you as happy! If there were but such another man for you!”
Elizabeth took her hands and offered her sincerest congratulations. To Mary, she offered the same. “Mary, I did not know that you wished to marry after you had achieved your majority. Why so? For yours has been a long engagement.”
“Mr. Collins’s patroness, Lady Catherine, believed that a woman should spend her early adulthood improving her mind and manners, not just for personal growth, but to prepare for the duty of being a wife. It was not my coming into my majority, Lizzy, but contemplation of the sanctity of marriage. I am now a better person than I was just a twelvemonth ago.” Mary gave her usual smug response, yet she seemed genuinely content with her marriage.
Jane and Bingley, Elizabeth decided, wished for little else other than love and affection. They both took great pleasure in social engagements; they liked dancing together—but, in truth, all they desired was a peaceful, comfortable, and respectable life. They were each so complying that nothing would ever be resolved on; so easy, that every servant would cheat them; and so generous that they would always exceed their income. Though the last was highly unlikely—Bingley had four thousand a year, likely more. Elizabeth knew he had retained some interest in his uncle’s mills in Cheshire—perhaps he and Jane could be persuaded to purchase a house in that county, near to Pemberley.
Of course, she would see Mary frequently, in her and Darcy’s visits to Rosings. Perhaps, in time, Mary and Mr. Collins would soften, as raising children often did. Lady Catherine would take Mary under her wing, teaching her grace where she was now awkward and pedantic, and charm where she was pompous and self-complacent.
Kitty, who had lingered somewhat behind her sisters, at last found her voice. “Lizzy, you must tell us everything—where you have been, whom you have met! You have seen so much more of the world than any of us.”
Elizabeth laughed, her spirits brightening at Kitty’s eager curiosity. “There is little to tell that would suit Meryton sensibilities, I fear. But I shall recount what I can—if only you promise to share with me all the local news, for I am dreadfully behind in my knowledge of Hertfordshire’s scandals.”
