Darcy in Want of a Wife

Epilogue Chapter 1

Sitting Room

April, 1813

Rosings, Kent

Anne de Bourgh, mistress of Rosings, pulled her shawl a little closer around her shoulders and, taking up the poker, stirred the fire, causing a welcome burst of heat.

The door opened, and the butler entered and announced, “Mrs. Collins.”

Anne dropped the poker and turned toward her smiling friend, dressed in walking attire, who said, “Good morning, Anne.”

“Charlotte!” the mistress of Rosings cried out. “My dear friend, I had no intention of having you come to me! Please do not say you walked here!”

“I did not; Mr. Collins is visiting a sick tenant and offered to bring me here in the gig on his way.”

“Please tell him that I am grateful,” Anne said.

“I will,” Charlotte promised. “That will gratify him, as he is devoted to you as his patroness.”

Anne grinned at these words, which were a sly reference to Mr. Collins’s shift in allegiance from Lady Catherine to her daughter.

“But what about Baby Priscilla?” Anne asked, gesturing toward a vacant chair near the fire.

Charlotte grimaced and sat down. “The truth is that as much as I adore her, I feel as if the walls are closing in a trifle. I just fed her, and she is being well looked after by Mabel. I have at least an hour before I must start walking home.”

“I will send you in a carriage, of course. It is wonderful to see you out and about. I confess that after hearing from Elizabeth and Jane Bingley and you, I am less certain about marriage and children. It seems an exhausting business. My mother certainly never mentioned my wearisome neediness.”

The door opened, and a maid entered with tea service. Charlotte waited until Anne had poured tea for both of them and the servant had left, and then she said, “With all due respect to Lady Catherine, I doubt that she personally took care of you.”

“You are right, of course. I had a wet nurse and at least three maids waiting on me hand and foot. You and Jane and Elizabeth are spending more time with your infants than most members of the gentry do.”

“Yes, and while it is tiring, I would not have it any other way. I adore Priscilla so very much. But come, enough about infants. How are you? I thought you might be in London by now.”

“I leave for Town next week.”

Charlotte took a sip of tea and lifted one eyebrow. “Are you, perhaps, waiting until Mr. Benjamin Storey is in Town?”

This provoked a violent blush from Anne, who said with mock indignation, “How could you possibly know about that?”

“I heard it from Elizabeth Darcy, of course. She told me that you had developed a friendship with Miss Storey, who has in turn been keeping both her brother and you aware of one another’s doings. Do you care for him, Anne?”

Anne blew out a breath and said, “I do, very much, but I am serious about … oh, bother. My health is a good deal better than it was, but am I healthy enough to bear a child?”

“That is a reasonable question,” Charlotte said, leaning over to pat her friend’s hand. “And something you will need to decide to your own satisfaction before you can accept an offer of marriage.”

“Quite,” Anne agreed with a tiny sigh and then shook herself a little. “There is another reason I am journeying to Town next week. My cousin Richard Fitzwilliam is wedding Mary Bennet.”

She paused a moment, studied Charlotte’s face, and then chuckled. “But you knew that, did you not?”

“Elizabeth more or less told me in her last letter,” Mrs. Collins confessed. “What do you think of it? Will your cousin Richard be happy?”

Anne did not hesitate. “He will indeed. I have only met Mary a few times, but she seems a wonderful match for my cousin. I am confident everyone who knows either family is pleased.”

/

Sitting Room

Amelia Donovan’s House

Scarborough

“ No !!!!!!”

Mrs. Donovan, widowed aunt of Miss Caroline Bingley, winced and raised her eyes from her book of Shakespeare’s poems.

“Is something the matter, Caroline?” she asked in a heavily ironic tone.

Caroline, who was sitting at a small writing desk, turned toward her with a red face and narrowed eyes. “I just received a letter from my friend, Julia Standen, with the most dreadful news. It is all over London that Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam is wedding Mary Bennet!”

Mrs. Donovan was, thankfully, old enough to be phlegmatic; otherwise, she would have gone mad long ago living with Caroline. Indeed, the only reason she was housing her niece was that the girl’s financial contributions made it possible for Mrs. Donovan to stay in her own precious house, which was too expensive to maintain as a widow on a small income.

“Mary Bennet? Elizabeth Darcy’s sister?”

“Yes!” Caroline howled, leaping to her feet and beginning to stalk up and down the wooden planks of the floor. “She is not even … I simply … Fitzwilliam is the second son of an earl, Aunt! An earl ! Mary Bennet is not even pretty! She is plain, and … dull … and sermonizes, and she cannot even play the pianoforte well! Why would he marry her ?”

“She is very well connected, is she not?” the older woman remarked in a placid tone. “She is sister to Mrs. Darcy, and thus is connected to the de Bourghs and the Matlocks. I do not find it at all surprising.”

“AIGHGHGHGHH!” Caroline screamed and rushed out of the room.

Mrs. Donovan waited until she heard the door slam upstairs and then returned to her book of poems. If history repeated itself as she anticipated, Caroline would scream into a pillow for a few minutes and then take a nap, thus allowing her aunt two precious hours before she would need to bother with her annoying niece again.

/

Mary’s Bedchamber

Longbourn

Miss Mary Bennet, soon to be Mrs. Mary Fitzwilliam, did a little twirl in front of her full-length mirror, admiring her appearance in the pale green gown. On her left, her younger sister Kitty watched with rapt attention, her brown eyes wide and sparkling with awe as the pistachio-toned silk fluttered around Mary’s legs. Mary could count on one hand the number of times in her life that she had really, truly thought that she looked beautiful. But in this gown, Mary believe that she looked very fine indeed.

As she stood in front of the mirror, the door behind her opened wide, admitting her mother, who gasped in delight and rushed forward to embrace her. The matron then retreated a step and exclaimed, “Oh Mary, how fine you look! And you are to be married to an earl’s son! I truly cannot believe it! I was so happy when Jane married Mr. Bingley, and then Lizzy married Mr. Darcy, but now, oh Mary! And your fiancé’s older brother has only sired daughters! My dear, you could be a countess one day!”

Mary suppressed a sigh and said, “Richard and I are marrying because we love and care for one another, Mamma.”

“Oh, of course, of course,” Mrs. Bennet said. “Indeed, Mr. Fitzwilliam must love you a great deal. While you look quite pretty, you will never compare to…”

“Mary looks marvelous!” Kitty interrupted, scowling dangerously.

Mrs. Bennet looked affronted, and Mary said soothingly, “I know I am not as beautiful as my sisters, but Richard has told me that he likes my appearance very much. We are in love.”

“Certainly! Oh, to be wed at St. George’s in London! Your father is fussing, of course, as he dislikes London, but he will have to give you away. Oh Mary!”

/

Study

Netherfield Hall

It was a chilly day, and a fire was lit in the hearth of the study at Netherfield Hall. Elizabeth Darcy sat in a high-backed, plush chair by the window, while her husband, Mr. Darcy, stood just beside her. He was quiet with a darkened, intense look on his face, maintaining eye contact with his cousin Richard where the latter stood by the fireplace.

“You are entirely certain of this?” Richard Fitzwilliam asked gravely, looking not at his cousin, but at his cousin’s wife.

“Of course we are,” Elizabeth said. “You know that we wish for you and Mary to have a place of your own, and Berkshire is so far from Derbyshire that it is not convenient for Fitzwilliam to administer Norland Park with ease.”

“But you are not asking nearly enough for the estate, and Norland Park would be an excellent inheritance for a younger son or daughter!”

“Sign it, Richard,” Darcy said sternly, gesturing at the paper on the desk.

The former colonel sat down and read through the sale papers for Norland Park carefully, signed it with a flourish, then rose again and bowed to the Darcys.

“Thank you,” he said. “I had no desire to return to the Continent and fight, leaving Mary behind, but nor would I be happy living a life of leisure on a small allowance. Mary will be a wonderful mistress of Norland Park, and I hope you will take time to reply to my doubtless frequent letters asking for advice on managing the estate, Darcy.”

“Of course I will,” Darcy said, holding out his hand.

Richard grinned, shook the proffered hand, and said, “Would you kindly inform Mrs. Bingley that I will be having dinner at Longbourn with Mary?”

“Of course,” Elizabeth said, smiling as Richard hurried out into the corridor and toward the back exit, which led to the stables, where Richard’s bay gelding was waiting to carry his master to Longbourn and his fiancée.

The Darcys left the study at a leisurely pace, only to speed up at the sound of many voices from the vestibule, some of them high pitched. Elizabeth turned joyful eyes on her husband and then rushed toward the door, with Darcy hard pressed to keep up with her in spite of his much longer legs.

“Uncle Gardiner, Aunt Gardiner, Cousins!” Elizabeth cried out when she reached the new arrivals. “It is wonderful to see you!”

/

Nursery

Netherfield Hall

An Hour Later

The cold breeze that seeped through the latched windows played with the ornate curtains, between which spilled a gray light from the overcast sky. Inside the nursery it was warm and bright, a fire crackling merrily within the hearth to keep the occupants cozy. Elizabeth was seated on a chair close to the window with her son cradled in her arms, while across from her stood Mrs. Gardiner, her own baby nestled against her chest. Lastly, Jane Bingley stood gazing down at the crib where her infant daughter lay.

“He is a lovely little man, Elizabeth,” Mrs. Gardiner said, smiling at her niece.

Elizabeth looked down on the fuzzy head of her two-month-old son, Isaac, and smiled in a thoroughly besotted way. “He is. As is your little Jacob.”

Mrs. Gardiner, gently rocking her fifth child in her arms, nodded and said, “When I was pregnant with my second baby, I wondered how I could possibly love any child as much as I loved Hannah. But my love grows with each new child, and I adore Jacob as much as I do all my children.”

“That is good to know,” Jane Bingley said, bending over the crib of her infant daughter, who was grabbing her small feet with her hands and gurgling up at her mother. “I hope we will have many children, but I had worried about sharing my love among many.”

“Aunt, I have been wondering; how is Sophia doing?” Elizabeth asked Mrs. Gardener, while she tickling Isaac’s cheek in the hope of waking him sufficiently to nurse more.

“Sophia?” Jane interjected in confusion.

“The former Sophia Cooper,” Elizabeth said to her sister. “Now Sophia Tyler?”

“Oh!” Jane said, “the one whom Wickham…”

“Precisely,” Elizabeth said quickly and turned once more to Mrs. Gardiner, who said, “She is doing very well, my dears; her husband adores her and accepts her son as his own, and they are expecting another child. By God’s grace, Sophia’s life is a good one in spite of her early struggles.”

“Thank the Lord,” Elizabeth said fervently.

/

St. George’s

Hanover Square

One Week Later

The arched ceiling seemed very high overhead as Elizabeth Darcy followed her father and Mary Bennet into the great cathedral of St. George’s.

The crowd, on the other hand, looked rather small, but that was only because the sanctuary, with its numerous stained glass windows and rows and rows of pews, was so large.

There was, in fact, a substantial crowd for a wedding ceremony – Richard’s parents, three siblings, and their spouses, the Bingleys, a few miscellaneous high born friends, and, of course, Mrs. Bennet and her two youngest daughters. Elizabeth was pleased to see that Lydia, recently fetched from her boarding school, was wearing a pleasant expression; her time away from home had been good for her. As for Kitty, she was glowing with pleasure at the wedding of her favorite sister, Mary.

They had reached the pulpit now, and Elizabeth, serving as bridesmaid to her sister, took her place across from her husband, who was a groomsman to Colonel Fitzwilliam, while Mr. Bennet carefully placed Mary’s arm at Richard’s.

Elizabeth smiled at her husband, and he smiled at her, as the young rector began speaking the words of the wedding ceremony.

“Dearly beloved ,” he began, “ we are gathered together here in the sight of God and in the face of this company of witnesses to join together this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony… ”

Her thoughts wandered briefly to Baby Isaac, only two months old, comfortably tucked up at Darcy House along with Jane’s infant daughter, with a wet nurse available in the event that either child grew hungry while their mothers were away.

“The union of husband and wife in heart, body, and mind is intended by God for their mutual joy…”

She turned joyful eyes on her sister at these words. Mary would be happy as Mrs. Fitzwilliam. What had started out as Richard’s championship of Mary’s reputation had grown into genuine affection and love between the third daughter of Longbourn and the second son of the Earl of Matlock.

“…for the procreation of children and their nurture in the knowledge and love of the Lord…”

Baby Isaac was indeed a tremendous gift, and as much as Elizabeth loved Fitzwilliam as a husband, she adored him even more as a father, who obviously loved both his wife and tiny son with every iota of his being.

“God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit, bless, preserve, and keep you; the Lord mercifully with his favor look upon you, and fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace; that you may faithfully live together in this life, and in the age to come have life everlasting. Amen.”

“Amen,” Elizabeth whispered to herself. “Amen.”