Darcy in Want of a Wife

Epilogue chapter 2

Brighton

Early July, 1818

Mrs. Anne Storey stepped carefully onto the hard packed sand and came to a halt, her eyes gazing toward the south.

“Is it not marvelous?” she breathed.

Her husband patted her hand, which rested upon his arm, and said, “Yes, my dear. It is truly magnificent.”

Anne sighed in delight and lifted her chin, enjoying the cool breezes streaming across her face. “It is so refreshing and clean, and oh, Benjamin, look at those colors – the blues, and aquas, and greens. It is incredible!”

“It is,” Benjamin agreed once more, looking carefully at his wife’s face. For the first time in many weeks, she had a slight tint of pink on her wan countenance, and he felt his chest ease.

She seemed to sense his concern, because she smiled and said, “I am well enough, Benjamin, truly.”

He pulled her a little closer and wrapped an affectionate arm around his bride of three years, his eyes drifting to her abdomen, which was noticeably swelling under her dress. His wife’s first pregnancy had been a difficult one, and then, just as she began to feel better, Anne had fallen ill with influenza. It had been an alarming season, and he could only praise God above that his wife and unborn child had been spared to him.

She reached a gloved hand to touch his cheek and said, “Truly, my dear, I am well, and I am confident that after a few weeks at the seaside, I will be fully recovered. “

She turned back again, and her face glowed with delight. “Look at those waves flowing in from the distant horizon. It is so soothing!”

“It is indeed, my love.”

The couple stood silently for another few minutes, relishing the views, and then were startled by a feminine voice nearby.

“Anne!”

The Storeys stopped, and Anne dropped her husband’s arm and stepped back onto the boardwalk, holding out her hands toward her friend and an unknown gentleman. “Lady Audrey! Good morning! Whatever are you doing here?”

“Good morning to you both!” Lady Audrey replied and pulled her companion closer to her. “To answer your question, we escaped London to Brighton to enjoy the ocean breezes. Have you been here long?”

“We arrived only a few hours ago,” Anne said.

“Oh, how lovely! May I introduce you to my husband, Anne?”

“Please!”

“Anne, Mr. Storey, please meet my husband, Mr. Fairchild. Matthew, Mr. and Mrs. Storey. I met Anne during what I call the Season of the Bluestockings in London some six years ago.”

The gentlemen and lady exchanged bows and a curtsy, and Mr. Fairchild, a tall, dark-haired man with twinkling blue eyes, said, “It is wonderful to meet you at last, Mrs. and Mr. Storey. I had the great pleasure of meeting several of my wife’s intelligent friends, including Mrs. Darcy, last year at a dinner in London, along with the former St. John ladies, but I have not been so fortunate as to meet you before.”

“I am pleased to meet you as well,” Anne said happily. “I heard from my sister-in-law Emily that you two were wed six months ago, but I have been settled in Kent for the last year. Have you been staying here in Brighton for long?”

“We have been here a fortnight,” Lady Audrey said as both couples began walking slowly down the boardwalk together, “and intend to stay another four weeks. There is a marvelous circulating library, and the Promenade Grove has the most delightful arrangement of flowers. Perhaps, after you have settled, we could visit both places with you?”

“I would enjoy that very much!” Anne replied.

/

Kitchen

Norland Park

Berkshire

Mary Fitzwilliam, seated at a small table near a window, glanced down at the menu for the coming week and said, “I think we will have turbot for Friday dinner provided you can obtain it.”

“I will arrange for it, Madame,” Mrs. Faulkner said and then looked out the nearest window and beamed. “Oh, how precious they are.”

Mary moved to stand next to her housekeeper and found herself staring out at two small children, who were leaping and cavorting and running along the front lawn, with two nimble nursemaids in close attendance.

“They are,” Mary agreed, gazing longingly at the group. She loved her children, but thanks to a busy day, she had not seen them since early morning when she had tiptoed into the nursery to see them sleeping in their cots.

“Would you care to walk outside, perhaps?” Mrs. Faulkner asked, and Mary said, “We have not yet decided on the dinners for the…”

She trailed off and grinned. “But we can finish later.”

“Indeed, Madame.”

Mary nodded and hurried out of the kitchen, snatched up a hat, tied the ribbons under her chin, and waddled hurriedly out of the house, reminded again of the awkwardness of late pregnancy

The sound of young voices drew her to the northeast of the house, where her three-year-old twins were chattering and laughing near a small pond.

“Mamma!” both children cried out, rushing toward her to stretch pleasantly rounded limbs around her protuberant waist. “Mamma!”

“It is a lovely day, my dears, is it not?” she asked, crouching down to plant kisses on Jonathon and Evangeline, her son and daughter.

“There are ducks!” Evangeline exclaimed, the more verbal of the twins, and Jonathon released his mother and hurtled toward the pond, only to be snatched by a maid before he fell in entirely.

“Tuttle, Mamma, tuttle!” the boy chortled, pointing one small finger at a turtle which was, indeed, lying languorously on a rock in the middle of the pond.

“It is a wonderful turtle, my dear,” Mary said aloud, and once again, tears filled her eyes. Her life was truly better than she had ever imagined it could be; married to an admirable man, mother of twins, with another child due in but one more month. She had never fathomed, back when she was plain Mary Bennet, what God had in store for her.

/

Pemberley

A whinny broke into Fitzwilliam Darcy’s concentration, and he turned toward the stables just as his yellow mare, Sunshine, trotted into view with her dark-coated male foal at her heels. He grinned at the sight. Summer was such a joyful time, with the animals enjoying the warm weather and the birth of numerous offspring in the stables and kennels and poultry houses.

His gaze shifted away from the horses to the trout stream, and from there to the lake, which stretched along the front of Pemberley itself. He was, he knew, incredibly fortunate to be master of such a great estate, though it was hard work as well.

Another high-pitched whinny broke his reverie, and he turned his attention to the letter in his hand from his cousin Richard.

Norland Park

Darcy,

We regret that we cannot be at Pemberley to celebrate Kitty’s wedding to Mr. Hyde, but with Mary so near her time, it is quite impossible. We are, at least, largely certain she is only carrying one child this time.

You asked how my father is doing. Mary and I made a hasty trip to Town last week to see him, and I will be truthful; he did not look well at all. I hope that he will recover when he leaves Town for the fresher breezes of the country, though his doctors seem doubtful.

The twins are healthy and happy and vigorous, and keep their nursemaids busy indeed…

“Fitzwilliam?”

He looked up to observe his beloved Elizabeth walking toward him, hand in hand with his two older children, while two female servants trailed along behind.

He stood up as Isaac, five years of age, cried out, “Father, we are to see the puppies!”

“Pupz!” Arabella lisped. “Pupz, Adder!”

He reached down to lift his three-year-old daughter into his arms and planted a kiss on her chestnut curls. “The puppies are adorable, Bella.”

“See Putz now?” she asked, tilting her head in a way that reminded Darcy very much of her mother.

“I need to speak with your father for a few minutes,” Elizabeth said. “Run along with Sally and Tricia, and we will join you soon.”

Arabella, who was very fond of her nursemaids, was lowered without protest, and her parents watched as the children were guided toward the well-constructed kennels, within which their prize spaniel Clover and her six puppies were residing under the careful watch of one of the stable boys.

Elizabeth sat down on the bench and drew Darcy to her side, whereupon he looked at her with concern. “Is everything well?”

“Yes. Very well, but I am tired. Samuel has been growing rapidly and is especially hungry of late. And yes, I know you will find me a wet nurse if necessary, but I am managing very happily for now.”

Darcy, observing the shadows under her eyes, frowned and said, “But with Kitty’s wedding in two weeks, I worry that you are trying to do too much.”

“Nonsense, my love,” his wife replied, nestling closer to him. “Jane and Charles will arrive this very day, and my parents and Kitty and Lydia will appear tomorrow. My mother may not be the most sensible of creatures, but she is entirely capable of arranging an appropriate wedding breakfast, and my sisters will help her as necessary. I have only to enjoy the company of my family and retreat to my bedchamber if I need a nap. They will understand.”

Darcy forced himself to relax; he well knew that many of the wives of his tenant farmers managed house and children without any assistance at all, and Elizabeth was a vigorous woman. Of course, Elizabeth also served as mistress over a great estate, which was itself a challenging task. He could only keep a close eye on his darling to ensure she did not weary herself unduly.

“Fitzwilliam! Elizabeth!”

The couple turned toward the house to see Georgiana walking briskly toward them. Darcy smiled at his sister; she was still, at two and twenty, unwed, though not for a lack of suitors. No, it was her own determination to marry only for genuine respect and love which left her single, and Darcy was delighted to have her at Pemberley for as long as she desired. Having survived the machinations of George Wickham, who had been hanged so many years previously, and with Elizabeth’s beneficial influence, Georgiana Darcy had matured into a confident woman who knew what she wanted.

“The Bingleys are here!” Georgiana explained as soon as she was close enough to speak without yelling, and Elizabeth climbed to her feet.

“They are early! Thank you, Georgiana!”

/

Hunsford Church

Two Weeks Later

Kitty Bennet stepped into the sanctuary on the arm of her father and gazed on her beloved Nathaniel, who was standing at the front of the church looking nervous.

She herself felt entirely certain of her upcoming nuptials, in spite of Mrs. Bennet’s open disappointment.

“Kitty, my dear,” her mother had said, “Your two eldest sisters married men of substance, and Mary is wed to the son of an earl. And you are choosing a mere clergyman?”

She was, indeed, choosing a mere clergyman, though she certainly did not look on her beloved in that way. Nathaniel was thirty years of age, intelligent and kind. They had met the previous year during Kitty’s last visit to Pemberley, and Mr. Hyde, a frequent visitor to Pemberley because he was an enthusiastic reader as well as an excellent chess player. Within a few hours, Mr. Hyde had been as interested in Kitty as she was with him. By the end of the summer, he had asked permission to write Kitty directly, and Darcy, after asking Kitty her view on the matter, had given his blessing.

After months of correspondence, Mr. Hyde had formally asked for her hand in marriage, and she had accepted. After today, she would be Mrs. Catherine Hyde, mistress of the snug parsonage at Kympton, helping her husband served the tenants of the area. She would also be close to both the Darcys and the Bingleys, who had given up Netherfield Park and purchased an estate nearby three years previously.

She was incredibly happy.