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A teardrop escaped and trailed down his face. Darcy nodded.

“Thank you for arranging a reunion with my friend, Bennet. What better gift is there than the companionship of one’s oldest, fondest acquaintance? You have made me proud.”

His suffering painfully evident, he said, “I have lived a long and fruitful life. I have been blessed with everything the heart of mortal man can desire. Do not mourn overlong for me, my son.”

As though unable to summon the words that deep down inside, he wanted most to say, Darcy said nothing.

“You are a good son,” the older man said. “You shall be an excellent master.” His voice growing weaker with each word, he struggled through. “I know you will take prodigious care of your sister, and when the time comes, you will be a faithful husband and a devoted father.” He endeavored to sit up, mostly in vain.

“There is but one thing about which I am rather less certain.”

“What is it, Father?”

“My godson, George. Do not forsake him.”

Darcy lowered his father’s hand and commenced fussing with the bedclothes as a means of comforting him. “Please, Father, do not exert yourself.”

“But, I must—while there is still time.” His voice grew weaker. “Son, I know you and I have rarely agreed on matters where George is concerned. I am asking you to do this for me.”

Before Darcy could utter a response, the door flew open and in rushed Georgiana, her eyes full of tears, and just in time to embrace her father and tell him how dearly she loved him, all on the cusp of his final moments on Earth.

CHAPTER 24

FUTURE HAPPINESS

The unpleasant encounter with Charles Bingley’s sisters weighed heavily on Elizabeth’s mind.

Is this what my sister Jane is to expect? Jane who never thinks meanly of anyone.

At one time, it had appeared that the Bingley sisters, who no doubt had no use for Elizabeth, actually liked Jane. Alas, it was mere pretense, especially on Miss Bingley’s part and perhaps on Mrs. Hurst’s part as well.

Elizabeth could not fully gauge the latter’s real opinion on her brother’s marriage as she had not spoken a word during the altercation. How the two sisters could be so insensitive to what was taking place in the household, Elizabeth could not even fathom.

Perhaps, they are completely unaware of the elder Mr. Darcy’s condition.

Despite all of Miss Bingley’s boasting of enjoying such an intimate relationship with Fitzwilliam Darcy, Elizabeth always knew better.

He would have no reason to confide in the young woman. I suspect that had I not come across him in the library when I did and pressed him on his altered attitude, he would not have confided in me either.

The inevitability of losing a parent — the helpless feeling that accompanies the certain knowledge that it’s beyond one’s power to prevent — I cannot imagine how that must feel.

She wrapped her arms around her shoulders. The refreshing outdoor air was such a balm for Elizabeth’s overwrought sensibilities, but each step further away from the manor house caused her to wonder if it would be better if she went back, perhaps to the library where her father may have returned from his bedside vigil.

Jane had written that she came to Pemberley unsure of what she was about, and she had taken her leave knowing she was fulfilling her destiny. Everything happens for a reason, Elizabeth surmised, and she began to wonder if the true reason for their being there at Pemberley was so that her father might share with his old friend Mr. Darcy what were destined to be his final days.

Did his son plan it this way? Was this a grand scheme on his part — a final act of devotion to his beloved father?

She did not know what to think or how to feel if such were the case, but one thing was certain: she could not be angry with the gentleman should her suspicion prove correct. She was certain that her father was better for the experience. Although still a bit reclusive, she had observed that when he and his friend were together, her papa had always been particularly animated, as though he had recaptured some of the vigor and optimism of his younger days.

The thought that her father had yet to be told of Jane’s elopement and the possibility that he might not react to the news as favorably as she herself had then dawned on Elizabeth.

Heaven forbid that he should learn of it from that horrid Miss Bingley.

This thought was sufficient encouragement to redirect Elizabeth’s footsteps immediately in the direction of the manor house. A steady pace grew more and more urgent as a single thought mixed with dread consumed her. I must speak with my papa.

She arrived at the library and saw her father was walking about the room, his hands clutched behind his back, looking grave and anxious. “Lizzy,” said he, “I have been wondering where you were. Come, my child for we have much to discuss. Your sister⁠—”

Feeling as though a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders, Elizabeth interrupted, “—So, you have heard the news about Jane and Mr. Bingley. Forgive me, for she wanted me to be the one to tell you.”