Yet the Son was to Come (Ch 1-10)

By Bethany Delleman

This is the first novel-length JAFF that I wrote, about two years ago. I am not happy with it and I’m not exactly sure how to fix it, so I’m posting the entire thing here in 10 chapter chunks.

Enjoy! Maybe someday I’ll figure it out and do a re-write and publish.

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Chapter 1 – April 1814, Longbourn

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a married man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of an heir.

This is an obligation which has proved difficult for many a married man and woman, for while a mamma might scheme and plot her daughter into a winning engagement, no one is quite a match for the Almighty, who bestows male children as He wishes. Many a man has sought to assure his victory, by marrying a young, healthy lady with a fine family lineage of strong vigorous baby boys, only to be thoroughly disappointed in his venture. 

Such it had been with Mr. Bennet. He had married a woman of youth and beauty and very soon after their marriage they had announced further joy. The mother and child had been equal to the task, but girl had followed girl, and after the fifth, he had found himself forced to accept that no more were to come. From that unhappy realization, it was such that the girls, prevented by entail from inheriting Longbourn, must marry well. Happily, Mrs. Bennet’s eager work towards that endeavour had not prevented three daughters from finding acceptable matches; three years had now passed since that most interesting time.

“Mr. Bennet, do you not find it so dreadfully quiet now that Kitty and Mary are gone to town?” Mrs. Bennet was sitting opposite her husband in the drawing room, she positioned in her favourite chair and he on the well-worn sofa, this small comfort the only boon that Mrs. Bennet perceived from the lack of daughters and company.

“Indeed, my dear.” Mr. Bennet did not raise his eyes from his book to answer. He had been impressed upon by his wife, left alone by the departure of his two remaining daughters, to remain out of his library, but he saw no evil in bringing a book out with him. Mrs. Bennet was working on a small bit of clothing, intended, Mr. Bennet was sure, for the next grandchild. The sun had now set but the candles were lit and Mrs. Bennet was so practiced at her work that she scarcely needed her eyes. She was working on the buttons and completing them with the ease and skill of a woman who had sewn a hundred such pieces in her time.

“It is so hard to have our daughters gone from us. I thought we should have joined them in Town. I am sure Lizzy and Mr. Darcy would have us at their home; it is such a large one and so well situated. It would be no bother for them. I had wished for Mary to remain, but Mr. Darcy was so good to find her a master to improve her playing. After she refused to attend the season with Kitty, she suggested private lessons at a school in town. Mary so desired to go and I could not deny her. I suppose Mr. Darcy could do nothing less; she is his sister now as well.”

“Yes dear,” Mr. Bennet did love to visit his daughters but he hated town and during the season, he hated it more. He would visit Pemberley once the Darcys had returned thither. With all of them in town there was little prospect of seeing the girls at all. They would be too busy with Kitty and Georgiana, escorting them to dances and entertaining an endless parade of guests.

“And for Kitty to be out for the season in London with Jane! I am sure Mr. Bingley will be delighted to escort her. He and Jane still love to dance, and they will be so attentive to Kitty, I am sure. They are ever so caring to her, though she does seem to spend the most of her time with Miss Darcy at Pemberley. I have noticed that she has become quite a different girl. She is much like Jane and Elizabeth and even they have improved. Our daughters have such noble airs now.”

At this Mr. Bennet said nothing but continued to gaze at the volume in his hand. Mrs. Bennet needed little encouragement to continue.

“I have engaged Sir William and Lady Lucas to come tomorrow; they have not dined with us in so many days. And they will bring their children, I am sure, and then it will be crowded again. Longbourn does not feel the same now that so many of our girls are married. Though Jane and Elizabeth were married so prosperously, even Lydia’s marriage was to an officer and I did have my eye on a red coat in my time. But with the Bingleys purchasing an estate so far from me, and Lydia still in the north, and the Darcys so busy with the affairs of Pemberley, I feel we do not see any of them enough. It is far too quiet, and I cannot arrange to visit or indeed to arrange company here every night. And so, we are finding ourselves, Mr. Bennet, quite alone more days in the week than I should like.”

Mr. Bennet assented and looked up at his wife. She was as she always had been. He had married her for her youth and beauty, which at two-and-forty she retained enough to still be considered reasonably handsome. She was a woman of little understanding and a nervous temper but now with less to divert her energy. With three daughters married, and two married well, one might suppose that she would improve and become less nervous and silly, but her temper had been set long ago. Now, without a single daughter to escort and plan for; she found herself with nothing to occupy her time. 

Mr. Bennet had not paid his wife much attention in the years prior, but now it was impossible to avoid her need for conversation and company. They settled by necessity into a new arrangement where Mr. Bennet was within the library less and he engaged in cards or conversation when no company could be found. Occasionally, as he had this evening, he even went so far as to bring a book and read while Mrs. Bennet sewed, doing her best to distract him with news of the girls or the neighbours. They passed the time in relative pleasure and some more felicity than either had found until then in their marriage.

“Lady Lucas is now looking to settle her third daughter. I understand there is a curate from a nearby town, I cannot recall the name, and he has been calling lately. She is very certain an offer will come any day. I suppose the whole family will be settled as clergy. I must say I continue to be surprised at how well they settled Maria. Five hundred a year! They said Mr. Collins helped with the match. I did think that Lizzy should have accepted him, you know. But then it ended so well for her I cannot say she did not do the right thing. 

“The second son, of Lady Lucas I mean, has already taken orders and I have heard they are looking to have him placed in a living. But then how could they purchase one, for they have so little money and the principal of it they must want for the eldest son, William. As you know, they are meaning to marry him well. The property, I think, is not enough to tempt a woman of the likes of ten or twenty thousand. I think they must get by on much less. But Mr. and Mrs. Collins, they will have Longbourn upon your death Mr. Bennet rather than one of our dear girls! I am glad that our girls are so well settled, and I know that Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley will provide. They are so good to us!

“And Maria should be having a child soon, I am certain. We have yet to hear but I must imagine Lady Lucas having news of it soon. I am sure I will be relating more happy news myself! I was surprised indeed that Lydia did not have a child straight away, but now she is expecting to enter confinement, and so far from home. Three years of marriage without a child; it might not seem like a very long time, but she was so young, just sixteen when she wed. Why you and I, Mr. Bennet, had Jane before the first year was up. But, however, when she visited last, I gave her many instructions in that domain and now the best has come of it.

“But the other girls get along well! Jane had two at once, and two boys all the better! I cannot think what that would have done to my nerves if I had twins. She and Mr. Bingley must be so delighted. Lizzy has the one, who will inherit all of Pemberley one day. I daresay I expect another any day! We must go to Pemberley. That would certainly be a change, for there we would dine with fine families every night. But, however, the Darcys will be in London for the season as well. Kitty shall see them but you, Mr. Bennet, will not allow us to go to town, so I suppose I shall see little of my daughters at all! It is so hard to have them married and settled so far from home. It is so quiet here now.”

Having spoken for some time and arrived back at her first sentiment, Mrs. Bennet was momentarily lost for anything new to say. Mr. Bennet heard little of it. By now he was reading in earnest, and she was saying nothing he had not heard many times before. He made sounds of assent as his wife required but was happy to continue as he was, contributing little but satisfying Mrs. Bennet’s desire to speak of anything to anyone. Thus, they continued in this arrangement for the four months of the season until Kitty and Mary returned home.

Kitty,

Tell me all you can about the balls and the men of the season! I have not heard from you for an age, and I am wild for stories. I long to be there but of course Wickham will not allow it. He says I must stay close to home in my condition- what a bore! You know I long for fun. He is in London now, for no rule applies to him, but I hardly think you will be able to see him with Mr. Darcy around. I have a new friend; you must meet her. Please write to Papa and entreat that he let you visit me! You will love Newcastle; it has so much society. I imagine us sitting and laughing all day! I am sure I would get you a husband in a week and married by a fortnight. Lord, what a laugh that would be! I am well- I am sure Jane will want to hear but tell her nothing else. Elizabeth and Jane cannot send funds without scolding me- it is such a torment. But now I must go, as we are to dine with Captain Frasier. Put in a good word for me with Lizzy!

-Lydia Wickham

Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy,

I hope this letter finds you, Mr. Darcy, and young Fitzwilliam well. I had hoped to be able to put off my entreaties for some time, but the rent is not paid, and we shall be forced out before the baby even arrives! I know that you sent me money enough, but the wife of an officer has social obligations as you must know. I have had hardly a thing to wear as this child is determined to ruin all my clothes. I have spent some money to purchase a new dress, for I could hardly wear a stitch I already had. We have only until Midsummer Day to find enough for payment. I have even set aside a nursery for the child. And our girl will go soon if we have not the money to pay her. I cannot think that your nephew or niece should be brought into the world with so little. I ask for only some small amount until Wickham returns from London. Twenty or forty pounds should do well enough to get us through.

Love etc. Mrs. Lydia Wickham

Dearest Lydia,

My dearest daughter, I hope that this letter finds you and Mr. Wickham in good health. We have not heard a word since you wrote with the happy news, and I am eager to hear that the baby clothes and monies were delivered. Your father and I are well, though he will not permit me to travel for your confinement. I am much disturbed, for it is your first and a girl ought to have her mother! But Elizabeth assures me that you will be attended to and I must trust in her resources. Write to me soon and ease my nerves. I cannot but think of you daily.

Lady Lucas just told me that Bridget Lucas is to marry a curate, Mr. Evans. He seems a generally good sort of man, though nothing to your Wickham or Jane’s Bingley. He is very tall- why even your father had to look up to greet him, and has a kind look about him. Bridget is sewing most of the dress herself, poor dear. I will let you know how it all looks once the happy event is come. I have so little else to write, for I have not gone to the Assembly with both Kitty and Mary from home- I have hardly seen a new dress in a month!

Your father will not forward anything; he is so tiresome! But I will enclose enough for the post and some for a smart bonnet. I expect a letter from you any day; I know you must have written me and it has become lost. You would not neglect your mother so grievously.

Your loving mother etc. Mrs. Bennet

Chapter 2 – April 1814, London

Georgiana Darcy stood as tall and straight as her body and dress would allow. Her aunt, the countess, was at her side; her sister Elizabeth and Kitty were behind her. Georgiana tried to breathe deeply but her attire hardly allowed it. The dress, which had been nearly a year in the making, swathed her with fabric and entirely hid her form. Her high waist now supported the billowing skirts required for the presentation ceremony. Georgiana had practiced for months, wearing the hoops with the hope that she would become accustomed to them, but she did not usually wear them and she felt strange. Her steps were small and graceful out of necessity. Her head, decorated with a silver bandeau and high feathers, was perfectly erect. She was the daughter of a lady, the niece of an Earl, and sister to a perfect brother; she was determined to maintain her composure.

The dress Georgiana wore displayed her most careful embroidery. She had spent many weeks with Kitty at her side, sewing the elaborate blue flowers about the neckline and voluminous hem. Three women had sewn the actual bodice and skirts over the course of a month. The bandeau was her late mother’s and was decorated with pearls. Thousands of pearls danced around the embroidered flowers of her white gown. She knew well that the effect was stunning, but in the crowd of women ready to stand before the queen she seemed more like a single pearl lost in a sea of multitudes. Paradoxically, she also felt like every daughter and mother were looking her way and determining her worth. She knew her face was pale and the white satin she wore would do little to hide it.

Kitty, whose family claims were far less impressive, stood with relative calm behind her dearest friend. While she was under the care of the Bingleys in London, Elizabeth, who had been presented after her wedding, accompanied her. Kitty’s dress was far more modest than Georgiana’s; Mr. Bennet had supplied what monies he could, but Kitty knew that without the patronage of her brothers she would not be standing waiting to meet the queen. The fabric was less fine and while her bandeau and necklace had diamonds, there were none adorning her gown. She had chosen to sew rose vines along her dress, which started at her hem and climbed almost to her waist. Kitty, desiring to deserve this honour, had worked her fingers numb to prove her devotion and thanks. She had never felt so pretty in her life and imagined herself shining amongst the throng of other marriage hopefuls.

Georgiana’s name was called and she walked towards the queen. Her mind was in turmoil. She would hate to disappoint her family, but to be “out” and in society was overwhelming. Georgiana approached with all the propriety she could command, curtsied, and made her greeting. The queen addressed her with a mild tone. Georgiana heard nothing. She smiled in reply and, seeing that nothing more was required, walked backwards, keeping her eyes on the ruby encrusted fan the queen had opened. She re-joined her aunt with overwhelming relief. The first was over. Elizabeth smiled as she passed.

Kitty was announced next. She focused on the task, and while she was nowhere as graceful as Georgiana – her step had too much of a spring of excitement – the queen accepted her, and she exited. Kitty seemed to have Elizabeth’s composure in the face of rank and circumstance, for though many a well-bred lady has blanched at the prospect of presentation, neither of the sisters had been much alarmed. Elizabeth had been presented a few months after her wedding, the gown had needed time to prepare, and she had endured the ordeal with commendable fortitude. Kitty walked arm in arm with Elizabeth in rare levels of agitation.

“I have never been so excited. The balls we will attend! The gentlemen we will have the chance to meet. It is so delightful! It is hard for me to express it, but you must know I am very grateful.”

“You have made yourself worthy of the honour, Kitty. We could hardly expect Georgiana to do it without you. She was not inclined to be presented at all until you encouraged her.” Georgiana was now nineteen and it would be the first season in London for both her and Kitty. Jane and Elizabeth had never explicitly taken Kitty out of society, but it seemed natural as her friendship with Georgiana developed to treat them in a similar manner.

Georgiana walked with her aunt to the carriage and was helped up with some difficulty. She burst into tears as soon as the door closed. Kitty held her hand as they departed for the Darcy’s house in town. They were alone within, the carriage, ample though it was, could hold little more than two girls in hooped petticoats. The older women were following in another carriage.

“You were perfect Georgiana! Why are you distressed?”

It was some time before Georgiana was composed enough to speak. Another day they might have already been at home, but the road was thick with other carriages bearing similar loads. Kitty waited with patience: she knew her friend’s temper.

“I am all fear. To dance with men I do not know, to have them speak to me on topics that I might not have prepared, to leave home– it is all terror to me! And now that I have accomplished this task the next lies before me. For nearly three months there will be engagements almost every night! My uncle has already secured more than ten invitations to private balls.”

“Your brother will not ask too much; he has already assured you that we need not attend every ball or stay until the last set. I daresay he and Elizabeth would much prefer if you stayed another year with them. A woman is not often matched the first year she comes out. We have two years at least if not more for yourself. With your fortune there will always be another season; Caroline Bingley has been out for almost five years now and she does not worry at all.”

“She wasted much of that time on a fruitless pursuit.”

“How could she not, if there was the smallest hope?” Kitty laughed at her own words and Georgiana was able to join weakly. While Georgiana knew what her friend said was true, she did not feel relief. Her family was untitled but old and very wealthy. The expectations that her brother had tried in vain to shield her from would not be ignored. Georgiana was to maintain the family’s good name and marry well. Her aunt, Lady Catherine, had spent enough hours demanding a titled match the last time they visited that Georgiana was surprised that such a man had not appeared in the room!

Kitty was merely happy and excited. Living with her sisters, she had become much more aware of the world and its charms than she had been before. She wished for an officer, not because she wanted to follow the example of Lydia, for now she understood that evil more fully, but because she might travel and open herself to new people and ways. A second son with a secured commission would be no evil in her eyes. For though her sisters had married so high that they would forever be the talk of Meryton, Kitty was now finding what happiness would mean to herself and she no longer thought to compare herself to Jane, Elizabeth, or even Lydia.

There was only one other matter that Kitty imagined as necessary for a proper match: she wanted her husband to be kind. More than her sisters, Kitty had felt the barbs of her father’s wit. Lydia had laughed, Mary had been silent enough not to draw attention, and neither Elizabeth nor Jane had been the object of much contempt. Kitty had felt the unkind words of her father and did not wish to return to such a situation. She hoped to pass from the care of her kind sisters to the care of a man who did not feel such an impulse to deride the women in his protection.

The carriage stopped at last at the house and the girls were ushered inside. With three servants between them, they were assisted out of their gowns and hoops. Then new gowns were brought, both decorated as replicas of the court gowns but in the modern style. The bandeaus remained and there was only enough time for the girls to take a small meal before they were both escorted to the ball down below. Georgiana would start the dance and Kitty was to follow, but she did not begrudge her friend the honour. Kitty would always follow.

The night was long and filled with dancing. Georgiana found herself equal to the tasks before her, as almost every partner for the dances talked of the same things. The insipidness that might usually bother her was instead a balm to her nerves. She moved through the night with more confidence than she had often found in social engagements. It seemed every man was waiting to be pleased and her efforts never went awry. The parade of young eligible gentlemen passed before her with little remembrance. Not a one stood out to her as she knew Elizabeth had to her brother. Finally, the patience that her brother had advised took hold within her, and she was able to smile more freely and dance with true ease and grace. She might not find her own match this night, or the next, or this season. Her family would wait, and her fortune would never allow her to be excluded from society. The next partner did not meet with her liking at all, but she laughed and enjoyed the dance.

Georgiana could not know that while her spirits rose, her friend’s had experienced a rapid decline. Kitty had never felt such mortification or felt so keenly the lowness of her situation in her short years. While she had moved in her sisters’ circles for some time, it had not yet been with a clear intent to marry. Kitty realized now with shame that she had set even her modest sights too high. Too many of her partners only wanted to hear about Miss Darcy. She imagined they must be thinking to themselves, “There, beside Miss Darcy, was a poor girl of hardly a thousand pounds.” Her fine clothes, held in such high esteem only hours before, now seemed like a cruel trick. Her mother’s desires to raise her to the height of her sisters felt impossible.

After the first dances and the meal, Kitty thought to talk to Jane and make an excuse to return home, but Jane and Bingley had joined the dance and were therefore unapproachable. Kitty watched them for a moment, their eyes locked as they twirled together, and she was reminded of the strong attachment they had formed, despite hardship and circumstances. Kitty turned to see her second sister going to join the line as well, Mr. Darcy obligingly accompanying her. The two couples seemed to see none but their partners.

A young man approached Kitty to join the set. She pushed her feelings aside and accepted his hand. She fought to regain her composure by remembering how long a journey Lizzy had taken to find happiness with Mr. Darcy. How silly she had been to expect this to be easy! She reprimanded herself for her foolish disappointment and smiled at her partner. There was time enough to find her own sort of love.

Louisa,

I long to see you! Pray tell me you will not be much longer in Bath. This is just the time for your irksome husband to imagine himself ill, for I cannot endure the season without you. The men, the fortunes, the company: they are all the same. I have not found a single man yet worthy of my hand and I can anticipate every word from these insipid novitiates. Little Kitty stays with us, but you know I cannot speak to her as I can to you. Darcy is all kindness to his sister and has no time for conversation; Georgiana is consumed with the season; and Jane and Charles have not your temper. I hardly know what to do!

Let me tell you of a Sir John, whom I happened across last night. While he had fortune enough, and true rank, I have never met a man with so little intelligence! He observed to me that my ruby necklace was red! I believe I could have managed a more lively conversation with my nephews and they have but six words between them. I hardly knew what to think but he was soon engaged with a very pretty, older woman and her daughter, who did not even seem ready to be in society. If she was sixteen, I would be surprised! The mother seemed to be saying everything and the daughter was standing there looking very alarmed. But she did me the favour of keeping him away, for I was out of polite words for such a simpleton.

Where can I find another Fitzwilliam Darcy? If you discover someone of the like in Bath tell me of it and I will come. There is nothing to hold me here and you know Charles will make sure I am safely conveyed.

With all the love in the world, Caroline Bingley

Chapter 3 – May 1814, London

Georgiana and Kitty, arm in arm, walked slowly through the park. It was a warm spring day, not yet too hot to enjoy the outdoors of London. Fitzwilliam, Charles, Jane, and Elizabeth were following behind, speaking quietly with each other. Jane and Elizabeth were undoubtedly discussing the men they had seen with their younger charges and planning for the visits and dinners to come. Fitzwilliam and Charles were planning a small party with some of their mutual friends in town. Charles was suggesting additional slight friends to invite with the same rapidity that his friend was objecting to their inclusion. It was inevitable, however, that the final party would be larger than Fitzwilliam wished and smaller than Charles thought absolutely necessary.

Georgiana and Kitty had been walking in silence, but it was broken by Georgiana’s observation, “I was very charmed by Sir Richard’s attention last night, but he spoke so fondly of his country seat in Dorset. He seems a very amiable man, but I cannot imagine residing so far from home. He suggested that he only comes to London when required and hardly ever desires to go elsewhere.”

“Perhaps a man of his consequence may not see many charms in traveling until he is married?”

“I would not feel confident in a change of inclination after marrying, I believe that having a wife and children would make a person even more fixed at home.”

“If you are speaking of visiting Pemberley, I suppose you might venture to travel with your brother?”

“I cannot say it feels proper to depend upon it, Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth only travel apart if there is great necessity or a very short trip. If I am to find a husband I truly esteem, I doubt I would want to be parted from him.”

“Perhaps you ought to ask, before venturing further into conversation with any of these fine gentlemen, if the person resides in Derbyshire.”

“Do not be so silly Kitty, I cannot think that Yorkshire or Cheshire would not do as well!”

Kitty laughed with her friend, “You must secure the first son and then recommend me to the younger brother. Would it not be great fun to be settled in the same parish? I could see you just as often as I do now!”

“That is such an excellent plan! However, I thought you were speaking to a very fine man, a few days ago, what was his name? He was wearing an exceptionally smart blue coat.”

“Mr. Easton, we had spoken a few times together and danced more than once. He seemed so much a gentleman and very fashionable, but when I mentioned his absence at the last party to Elizabeth, she said he was required elsewhere.”

“Are you very disappointed?”

“He did seem a very amiable man. He was such an excellent dancer, never moved amiss! I was not certain of his inheritance or profession; I cannot say he spoke much of that. He was always interested in the party and the people.”

“I am sorry that he has gone. I hope another gentleman might distinguish himself as your favourite.”

Kitty did not reply, she had been suffering silently the weight of her friend being the lady of foremost attention at nearly every gathering. Mr. Easton had been one of the first to speak only to her and he had only mentioned Georgiana in passing. The prominence of the Darcy name and fortune was difficult to overcome and Kitty knew she could not blame her friend for it.

Georgiana was ignorant of her friend’s troubles, blinded by overwhelming difficulty herself. As introductions had passed and true conversation began, she was again afraid and overwrought. Conversation was tiring and difficult for her. She feared too much expressing the wrong sentiment, forgetting a name, or connection. She was always glad when she was asked to play, there was comfort enough in the well-practiced task of the pianoforte. A morning of visits, however, left her more tired than she had ever imagined she could be. Her mind was often turned to Pemberley and escaping to the company of those she knew well.

Jane and Elizabeth were at the same time also speaking of Mr. Easton, though their conversation was much different than their sisters’.

“I am not certain,” Jane was saying, “That we ought to hide the nature of Mr. Easton’s departure from Kitty.”

“I share your feelings Jane, but I think it is for the best. She is still young and if she knew that he wanted to marry her, she might remain attached to him. It is better that she never knows. It is most unfortunate that his character is not what it seemed. I had thought that a man who was already in possession of a good fortune might be the ideal partner for Kitty, but Fitzwilliam inquired carefully and he had the greatest confidence in the source.”

“It is hard for me to understand how he could have been so cruel to his first wife. For her to have even sought a separation! Perhaps her death was felt acutely and he wishes to do better? Do not scold me Lizzy, I will not try and make him good and pure. I may give more grace to the world than you, but our brother Wickham has taught me the true nature of some men.”

“I would rather be on your side, Jane, and wish Mr. Easton as reformed as you hope. However, I cannot entrust my own sister to his care without more assurances than his appearing amiable now. A man might appear however he wishes when he woos. You and I have been fortunate, I think, to find husbands who have proved themselves to be as good as they seemed to us before our marriages.”

Jane smiled, “Yes, once you saw what Darcy truly was.”

“Jane, I have never felt more a want of truly knowing a man’s heart. For myself, there was only shame in not earlier recognizing what Wickham was and allowing my prejudice to blind me to Fitzwilliam’s true nature, but now that Georgiana and Kitty are in our care, I feel more urgently a wish to know the true character of each man we meet! If blindness on my part were to leave either of them unhappily matched, I know not what I would do or how I might forgive myself for it.”

“We have had the good fortune of mixing with society, we did not know how secluded we were in Hertfordshire. Even our visits to London with the Gardiners never taught me what society could really be. I was left thinking too well of everyone and I had no real experience to learn from.”

“Do not think too harshly on your past mistakes, I thought myself a true judge of character after only observing four-and-twenty families! We should not speak of it more, nothing good can come of dwelling on our past mistakes. We have both come to know the truth of the world and society; it all worked out well in the end.”

“This whole affair makes my heart ache for our poor mother, what she must have felt when we were all at home still.”

“Our poor mother indeed! It has been clear to me for some time that she went about it the wrong way, that she could not show propriety or presence of mind. I am certain that she did more harm than good for us and a great deal of harm to Lydia. Yet, we cannot truly feel what she felt. If we are to have daughters, they will not want for husbands.”

“I hope that she is all the better for Kitty being under our care, and Mary cannot but improve under proper instruction.”

“No, I daresay she cannot get any worse, Mary I mean. Though I might talk of Mamma as well.”

“Lizzy, you must not speak so!”

Elizabeth only laughed and the sisters continued in perfect unity of mind. They both had some fear of Lydia’s continued influence on Kitty and despite a long separation between them, there was still a fear that Kitty might take the same path. Elizabeth and Jane were determined to make a very respectable woman of Kitty and they had already noticed a great improvement in her manners and temperament. Elizabeth had every hope that Kitty would soon find a gentleman who might make her happy and comfortable. There were still enough weeks of the season to hope that it would end in an engagement.

Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy,

Please be assured that I am well and that my studies have been as fruitful as you and Mr. Darcy hoped for. I am anxious for you to discover that your benevolence was bestowed on a worthy sister. I am told and am torn between the retelling and the duty of humility, but I feel that it must be related as a proper fruit of your investment, that my playing is a good deal improved and my voice only second in talent among my peers. I have reflected that one cannot correct faults within one’s self for one’s perception is not enough attuned to one’s own failings. The corrections I have humbly accepted as part of my education lay in areas I hardly suspected: several selections were beyond my natural voice. By knowing more deeply myself and my limitations, I have been able to improve. My recollections of previous performances now bring some small amount of shame, for I am now conscious that I attempted notes beyond my ken.

I can write no further without falling into the traps of pride and vanity. I hope to see you and your family soon and to repay in some small way the kindness you have shown me. Our aunt and uncle send their love and regrets that visiting has not been more often possible. I am sure your social obligations have been as overwhelming as my studies have been,

Humbly and etc. etc. Miss Mary Bennet.

Chapter 4 – May 1814, London

After a dinner with only the family party at the Bingley house, the women, Jane, Caroline, and Kitty, withdrew. Charles had some business to attend to and Jane was anxious to see her boys; her two sisters left to each other. Kitty, who while living with the Bingleys had not often been alone with Charles’ sister, was at a loss at what to say. Usually Georgiana was present or one of them had news of her, as an object of mutual interest, but they had both seen Miss Darcy that morning.

“It shall be rather dull evening if we are to have not a single visitor,” Caroline said, yawning, “I wonder that Jane did not send out invitations for tea.”

“We have had so few nights without guests,” replied Kitty, after a moment’s hesitation, “I hope we shall read a play again. I have enjoyed that very much.”

“I enjoy attending a play, reading at home is no comparison.”

“Your brother reads so well.”

Caroline laughed, “Charles? If you think he is a superior reader than you have not experienced enough of society yet. Charles reads passably well, but he often skips words or flips the sentence backwards; have you not noticed?”

Kitty shook her head, “But he does read with passion.”

“Passion he has, but not execution. When one has heard a true proficient, anything else is misery. I only hope that you shall one day hear someone worth listening to.” With this, Caroline stood and began to walk around the room, “There are only so many evenings left; we ought not waste them.”

“Jane said Colonel Fitzwilliam may come for tea,” Kitty suddenly remembered.

Caroline’s face brightened momentarily, “Did she? We ought to have invited the Darcys for dinner, then he would have certainly come. He is just the sort of man to improve a family party! Excellent manners, do not you think?”

“Yes, he is very agreeable. But the Darcys are dining out with the family of Sir Richard.”

“Have you no guest you would like to invite in particular?” Caroline said, without much apparent interest.

“No. At least, I do not think so,” said Kitty. There had been no man recently whom she had felt admired her.

“Yours is a certain type of case,” Caroline mused, “but then I have known matches of great disparity! And you will do much better here, among our connections, than you could ever have done at home.”

Kitty blushed, and against her better judgement, replied, “I wonder with all your superior connections, how you are not married by now.”

Caroline laughed heartily, which assured Kitty that she had not offended, before replying, “Oh! I have not yet married because I can afford to be fastidious. My friend -Mary Jennings that was- with a fortune equal to my own and far worse connections, caught herself a baronet. I shall not accept any censure for desiring the best for myself. Dear Louisa might have married in haste, but I have learned prudence from her mistakes. And Charles-” she stopped and smiled wryly at Kitty, “I have become too nice in my old age.”

“I did not mean-” Kitty

Caroline interjected, “You were bred up in a different school, but do not misjudge patience for a lack of prospects. I will be surprised if dear Georgiana does not reject a suitor or two before she settles. Even you can afford some discretion now that the fighting men are back from the continent. I seem to recall you had a penchant for a man in uniform.”

Kitty blushed, and in defence of her recent better conduct, said, “That was some years ago.”

“It is not an affront,” Caroline said, still moving about the room without purpose, “many a man has made a good fortune in the war. Now they are all home to be merry and settle. A happy disposition and artless affection may be just what they desire.”

“I have not yet attracted any serious attention,” said Kitty softly.

Caroline glanced at her, “One is never sure of anything until the gentleman speaks.”

Kitty nodded and said quickly, “No, yes, of course. I do not presume anything.”

Miss Bingley seemed in a mood for giving advice and she continued, “The most important thing is connection, dear Catherine. Never lose the intimacy of any great family if you can help it. And remember, there is no benefit from dwelling on past disappointments.”

The door opened and Charles and Colonel Fitzwilliam entered. Caroline winked at Kitty before greeting the guest. Kitty was unsure what she meant by it, but she was wise enough not to ask.

“How good to see you again, Miss Bingley,” said the Colonel.

“Is the society so poor elsewhere that you have been forced to endure the journey to Hill Street?” Caroline replied.

“Must I only come here if I find no diversion anywhere else?” said he.

“I cannot expect anything better; I am sure I will find the Darcys are dining out?”

Kitty was about to remind Caroline that she had just informed her of that fact, then she remembered the wink and remained silent.

“It is true, they are engaged for the evening. I apologize for the insult to your hospitality,” said he.

“I believe we shall recover from being considered second to your cousins,” said she.

“Allow me to make amends,” he said gallantly, “shall I lose at cards?”

Caroline laughed, though Kitty noted that her laugh was different than before, lighter and perhaps more elegant, “No, that shall not do, you have not recovered from your last visit. My dear sister has suggested we pick up our reading of Hamlet? Are you equal to the Danish Prince?”

Kitty was about to protest, for Charles had been reading the principal part, but Bingley seemed entirely pleased to give way and they were soon all seated. The difference in the Colonel’s ability was not lost on even the untrained ear of Kitty, though she wondered why Miss Bingley had suggested reading after so much apparent disdain. Caroline herself had not read with them before but she made an admirable Ophelia and Charles was far more suited to the comical Polonius than he had ever been to tragic Hamlet. Without much further thought to Caroline’s intent, Kitty found herself thoroughly enjoying the evening.

My dear Sir,

I pray that you and yours are in good health. I am pleased to appraise you of mine and Charlotte’s recent activities, retired and bucolic as they may be. We anticipate a good harvest of grain this year in Kent, but in my fields, I flatter myself that there is a particular verdancy I have not had the pleasure of observing in previous years. My dear Charlotte attributes the difference to my meticulous care and I shall not in good conscience contradict a lady. May I wish your harvest to be as bountiful this annum.

My young William is admirably grown and well-spoken and we have some expectation of another young olive branch. We have been blessed indeed with a fruitful year in all ways. Her ladyship continues in her condescension and attention. Miss de Bourgh has had a favourable turn of health and there is great hope that she will be able to travel with her mother to London or Bath later this year.

I am, dear sir, etc. etc.

Chapter 5 – June 1814, London

Breakfast over, the inhabitants of the Darcy house had their usual employments before morning visiting. Georgiana went to her instrument or watercolours, Elizabeth to her writing desk or to meet with the housekeeper, and Fitzwilliam to his study. Kitty, who had stayed with them after a late party, was with Georgiana. Elizabeth had hardly begun a letter to her mother when her husband joined her.

“Is someone here already?” Elizabeth asked, rising.

“No,” he said, then after some hesitation, continued, “You did not eat.”

Elizabeth shook her head, “I was not hungry at breakfast; we had such a late night. I will order something before we depart.”

“You have not been hungry for four days.”

“How can I spare you from anxiety if you continue to be so very perceptive?” Elizabeth said archly.

“I did not ask to be spared,” he said seriously.

“Then I wished to save myself from your worries. If I am expecting a second confinement, it is far too early to be certain.”

“It would be too early, if you were not so similar with our son. Was I mistaken last night or are you again adverse to the scent of pork?”

“Will it make you any more easy, knowing that everything was well the first time?” The look on his face was enough for Elizabeth to know that the answer was no. She tried to speak lightly, “There is nothing to be gained by near a year of worry. You must try to only think of the future in a way that can bring you expectations of pleasure. Our son shall have a playmate.”

“If I were to accept all your sanguine axioms, I would be a far different man than the one you married.”

“Be that as it may, there is nothing to be done. Well, besides offering our guests different fare so that I may sit for dinner in relative comfort. It makes one wonder why you would wish to know at all.”

“I would rather know anything of importance as soon as may be.”

Elizabeth smiled, for she knew the truth of it, “If you must concern yourself about something, I think it is likely that Georgiana will refuse Sir Richard, if it comes to the point.”

“Did she speak to you?”

“Oh no, she is far too modest to suppose that an offer is imminent. But from my observations, she is not as attached to him as we might have hoped.”

“If I did hope, it was only because his family, disposition, and situation are worthy of my sister,” said he, “I have not interfered.”

“No, it is very commendable, you have only interfered once in the season. And I cannot fault you for warning that man away from my sister. You have been the picture of discretion.”

“It is still my opinion that you should have told her the truth.”

Elizabeth frowned, “She seems to have forgotten him. What good can it do her to know a man of uncertain character wished to make an offer? I think it is better for her to enjoy herself than dwell on what could not have been.”

“What will your mother think of our mutual failure to dispose of our sisters?”

Elizabeth laughed, “She will think both of us extremely negligent, but I would never be easy if I had her absolute approval. My mother has her merits, but encouraging discretion when considering marriage is not one of them. If I had followed her axioms, I would be married to Mr. Collins.”

“Let us be thankful that you are not absolutely devoted to filial obedience.”

Elizabeth smiled, “Neither is little Fitz, though I trust he will be better behaved when we return to Pemberley. His poor nursemaid is run ragged.”

“He cannot do better than becoming like his mother,” said he affectionately. And then more seriously he added, “Neither of us can exist without you.”

Elizabeth embraced her husband, “You must try not to worry,” she whispered, “it is far beyond our power to control.”

Georgiana and Kitty were sitting together at the grand piano, attempting a simple duet. Since living with the Darcys, Kitty had taken up the piano and played with middling proficiency. She could tell Georgiana’s attention was not engaged, for her accomplished friend was missing more notes than she was.

“Whatever is the matter?” she asked, as they finished the song.

Georgiana said in a low voice, “He proposed.”

Kitty gasped, “Last night? At the Frasers?”

“Yes.”

“What did you say?”

Georgiana looked exceeding uncomfortable, “I said no.”

Kitty tried to look conciliatory, but her words burst out, “Why? He was a baronet!” Seeing the effect on her friend, she recollected herself, and in a less urgent tone, said, “Do not be anxious, I am sure your brother will understand.”

“Will he? I know that he and Elizabeth were very pleased when we visited the family. It is what everyone expected of me,” she said miserably.

“They only expect you to be happy.”

“I could not imagine myself being happy.”

“Why not?” said Kitty, her curiosity again overcoming her attempts at sympathy.

“He seemed like a very good sort of man,” Georgiana said, “and it was not only the separation from my home; a girl must expect to be transplanted. But I could not love him as I wished. I would not want to marry without love. Am I foolishly expecting too much?”

“No! To marry without affection would be horrible indeed!” Kitty recalled what Caroline had said and repeated, “You are rich enough to be choosy.”

Kitty embraced her friend, and Georgiana whispered, “It was horrible, he was very disappointed.”

“Of course he was! Who would not love you?” Kitty said, without a hint of the bitterness she felt. It was not Georgiana’s fault that their attractions were so distinct. “He will rally and find another, though he cannot find your equal.”

“I could not do this without you,” said Georgiana. And they remained together, Kitty trying, in her unsophisticated manner, to talk her friend into better spirits, and Georgiana doing her best to recover herself, until the first callers were announced and they both required better composure. Kitty tried to forget her disappointed heart; there would be no proposal for her.

Dear Father,

I am writing ahead to inform you of mine and Mary’s coming next week Tuesday home to Longbourn. The Bingley’s carriage will take us as far as the Inn in ——-, (his steward is to accompany us as he has some business to conduct) where I expect our man will be able to meet us with the coach. I hope that I shall find you all well; we are all in good health. Please prepare Mamma for the news that I am not yet engaged, for I know that was her ardent hope. Be assured that your investment in my introduction has not been in vain; I am certain that I have made some impression on society. Let her be comforted in escorting me to the assembly in Meryton. Without her principal occupation of securing my match, she must be driven to distraction.

Lizzy wishes you to know that she departs for Pemberley this afternoon. She is sending several volumes from their library in my care; I am told they are expected.

The second page is for Mamma, as it contains a description of several dresses, lace cuffs, and ballrooms. I am sure you will find nothing of interest in it. I want to assure you Papa, that my head is not only full of dresses and young men. We have been reading Hamlet aloud in the evenings when there is not a social obligation. Jane is too sweet to make jokes at the characters’ expense, but I will keep in mind some observations on Polonius for when I return.

Regards and etc. Kitty Bennet

Dear Charlotte,

Be assured, my friend, that we are all in the best of health. I am to return to Pemberley on the morrow; I am sure you will notice the difference in the expense of the post! The easy distance between London and Kent is indeed one of the advantages of town, but I am eager to depart. Fitzwilliam is never as comfortable as when we are home at Pemberley and little Fitz is missing the country. He cannot run as wild when we are in residence here. He is far too young to be much controlled or sit quietly in company. You ought to have seen him when Jane visited last: he was so pleased to see his aunt that he hung on her muslin dress until it tore. I was in mortification and set to the mending, but she was not alarmed. One cannot be as proper when children are about, and Jane is so very good.

I am pleased to hear of little William’s progress with his letters, you must be so attentive to his care. I thought when we saw you in town that he was a picture of yourself, I see so little of Mr. Collins in him. He is very tall, which he cannot have from you, but his eyes and complexion are your own. I know I must compliment you on his manners and address, for so young a child he is so very well behaved in company. I will keep myself, however, from comparison. I will not be the sort of mother that deigns to argue that her child is taller or more well-spoken, indeed we must agree; both our children are treasures. Their difference in age will long preserve us from this great evil!

Though I wish to see you again, I do not know yet whether it will be within my power. Our usual journey to Kent may be delayed due to a forthcoming addition to the family. What my son will think of a baby I can only wonder; he has not been the best playmate for Jane’s little ones. Do not despair, I will write as often as I can. I will do everything in my power to assuage Lady Catherine’s distress.

Elizabeth Darcy

Chapter 6 – July 1814, Pemberley

Elizabeth regarded the letter before her with surprise. Her father was not one to write. He preferred to see his beloved daughter in person and had already visited her, and her dear son, more times than she had expected. The nature of his entreaty was enough that Elizabeth rose from her desk and crossed the room to her husband. It was their custom, when at home, to spend the early morning engaged in whatever business came to them, Darcy with his investments and the management of the estate and Elizabeth with the running of the house and communicating with friends and relations. At least weekly Elizabeth also set out to visit the poor and sick among the tenants. Both rose early and found that they needed ample time to discharge their tasks before visits were to be made and received.

Now that the season was complete and they were fixed at Pemberley, Elizabeth had been ready to enjoy the quiet society and lesser obligations of the country.  She had been thinking of a visit to Longbourn but it would be something difficult to manage. Her own family were to come for Christmas at Pemberley, all save for Lydia who would be in Newcastle and most likely in confinement. Now Elizabeth was to expect a confinement herself in the spring. But her father’s letter would bring her sooner to Longbourn.

“My father has written Fitzwilliam.” He took the letter with interest.

Dearest Lizzy,

Your mother is not well. She has been seldom from bed since Kitty and Mary returned from town. We do not know the cause of her ailment and the apothecary is unable to diagnose. I must request that you return and tend to her. She is certain this will be her end. I do not think it so dire but I am certain the return of her daughters (those who can come easily) will do much to relieve her.

                                                                                                                                                             Bennet

Fitzwilliam had a small frown as he finished the letter.

“I know we have just settled back at Pemberley,” Elizabeth was loath to leave the estate she now loved more than her childhood home, “But with nothing to disturb her nerves, I must imagine my mother is quite sick. She has never been one to think herself ill without a disturbance of the mind and I cannot imagine one. I hope that my father is right and this will pass, but I feel I must be with her now.”

“No, you certainly must,” Fitzwilliam said. “I only regret that I cannot accompany you. With the mill needing repair, I must remain here. My steward is not sufficient. Do you think it proper for Fitz to accompany you?”

“It would be best for him to see her if this is a mortal danger. There is enough room in the house if his presence is too much for her. I will bring his nursemaid and all will be well. My father would have written if there was any suspicion of a putrid infection.”

“I will miss you terribly.”

“I will return to you as soon as I am able. If there is real danger, I will write.”

The rest was decided without issue. The long journey was to be planned with many stops. Elizabeth was feeling quite sick; during the early month of her last pregnancy, she had found long trips exhausting. Likewise, at only two, Fitz was too young to stay in the carriage for terribly long in much composure. She imagined that she would feel much better in about a month, if her last time was anything to judge by.

That evening at dinner, Georgiana seemed more oppressed than usual and Elizabeth, through smiles and gentle persuasion, sought to find the reason for her dampened spirits. She and Fitzwilliam had already heard of the proposal and refusal and done what they could to allay Georgiana’s fears. However, her disposition was not one to easily overcome unhappy feelings. At length Georgiana finally offered. “Do you think it wrong- or think that I should have accepted Sir Richard’s suit? I have been thinking of it often and I wonder now if I should have accepted him.”

Fitzwilliam was the first to speak, “If you did not truly like him, if you had doubt, then I do not think you should have accepted him. There is no cause for you to enter into an engagement unless you are absolutely certain of your regard.”

“He was a very amiable man,” Georgiana blushed and fell silent.

“Amiable he was, but if he did not suit you there is no cause for apprehension,” Elizabeth conjectured, “One might never be entirely certain of a man’s character, but you might know your own heart.”

“Perhaps my reasons for refusing him might seem inadequate to others?”

Fitzwilliam now comprehended his sister perfectly, and kindly took her scruples as his own, “I saw nothing in the man himself to object to, but that he seemed so very fixed in Dorset. It would have been difficult for me and for Elizabeth, to see you so seldom. With our own visits and responsibilities, we could not have made the journey more than once a year.”

“Indeed! It would have been difficult to have such a dear sister settled so far from ourselves. If he had expressed any inclination otherwise, I would have thought it a very prudent alliance,” said Elizabeth.

At this, Georgiana brightened visibly and Elizabeth was gratified. Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth had both suspected the reasons for Georgiana’s rejection, despite her almost total lack of communication on the point. It had left Elizabeth wondering if perhaps participation in the season in London had not been the exact approach they should have pursued. Certainly, it was expected of such a family and such a girl as Georgiana, but it had not yielded quite the results that Elizabeth knew her mother had for Kitty and Lady Catherine for Georgiana. She hoped at least that the girls had found pleasure in the experience. Elizabeth had delighted in the varied society and engagements but was equally happy to return home to a smaller and more intimate circle.        

Elizabeth soon explained the situation with her mother to Georgiana and told of her impending journey. Georgiana was very concerned about Mrs. Bennet and gave her wishes for health. She was also disappointed by the loss of Elizabeth. She suspected the house would be without any female company for some time.

“Do not despair Georgiana, we can invite the Hursts and Caroline. They had mentioned wanting to come after the season. They should all be with Charles now, not far off at all. I am certain that the Bingley’s will be called to Longbourn as well. Colonel Fitzwilliam is also due to visit, you will hardly miss me.” This was enough to return Georgiana to happiness.

Elizabeth departed at the end of the week and was brought to Longbourn without much difficulty. Fitz was tired, having stayed up much of the night in excitement, and slept for a large portion of the carriage ride, his head upon his mother’s lap for at least the first day. The second was much more difficult, Fitz could not abide the small space and the efforts of Elizabeth, her maid, and the nursemaid made little impression on his spirits. Elizabeth suddenly deeply regretted not being within a more easy distance of her parents, but there was no remedy now. At last she could see Longbourn. She roused Fitz who was excited to see her father and Kitty. It was midday and Kitty and Mary were already out to meet her.

“Lizzy! It is so good to see you here! Mother has not left her dressing room today, as she has been in poor spirits,” Kitty began.

Mary was solemn behind her, “She wishes to see her children before the appointed time.”

Elizabeth stared at Mary but said nothing except to entreat that she be brought up to her mother. Kitty took Fitz in her arms and Elizabeth went on. Mary, her greeting completed, sat down at the pianoforte and began to play.

Mrs. Bennet was dressed but lying in repose on her sofa. Her hair had not been taken out of its nightly plait. She appeared changed to Elizabeth, drawn and pale. Her lively countenance replaced with weariness. Not since Lydia’s elopement had Elizabeth seen her mother so affected.

“Oh Lizzy, I am not well! The apothecary has come and gone time and again but he does not know the cause and I have not been able to take the draughts he has prescribed. My poor nerves! What am I to do but see my Lizzy! And my Jane? Is she to come? She must forget me in this time of misery. No one has proper concern for my nerves!”

Elizabeth assured her mother that she had reason to expect Jane soon. Charles had been called to town unexpectedly and they were to arrive just a day after herself with their children.

“But I must see Jane. I cannot bear it not to. But poor Lydia! She is so far away and cannot travel in her state. If I cannot see her- I would be downstairs to see you but I am unequal to the task. I have said to Mr. Bennet that we must go to Bath. Could you tell him, Lizzy, that we must go to Bath? The waters would do me good. I cannot think of anything but Bath and taking the waters.”

Elizabeth listened to her mother and sat with her but could not offer advice. Her mother was pale and thinner than before but showed no other signs of illness. Elizabeth did not doubt her being unwell but wondered at the cause that could do so much and yet show so little.

“We have ordered a handsome haunch of pork for dinner. I am determined to descend today as you have come, Lizzy. Though I do not know if I will be equal to it. There is little food that tempts me, but I cannot set any less fine a table. I have been suggested a soup by Mrs. Long and the cook has prepared it. Mr. Bennet says I must eat but he does not understand my affliction.”

Elizabeth hid her distaste at the mention of pork, “Yes, you must try to eat.”

“I do try, and I know your father is concerned, in the end he is. Though I would almost think that if I was dying, he would still hide away in the library.”

“If he has taken the trouble to write, he must be concerned about you.”

Elizabeth attended her mother until she was called to be dressed for dinner. Her mother rose and was prepared, and they descended together. Mrs. Bennet was not even at the table when she declared that the smell was sickening and she returned to her dressing room. Elizabeth, who felt rather the same, sat and took a few tentative bites but soon followed her mother. Pork remained intolerable.

Chapter 7 – July, Longbourn

Jane arrived the next day and found her mother much the same. Elizabeth saw somewhat more, having gone to her mother as early as she could that morning. The two sisters spent all their time with Mrs. Bennet, trying to calm her and find a food that she might be able to retain. Mrs. Bennet sent them away so she might rest before dinner. Elizabeth was anxious to speak to Jane outside of anyone’s hearing and suggested they leave for a walk. Once the two were far enough away from the house, Elizabeth began her diagnosis.

“Our mother does not suffer from her usual complaints, this is nothing like her nervous fits,” Elizabeth observed.

“No, I was quite worried when our father wrote to us, I expected to find her in a much more dire condition. It seems her chief complaint is fatigue, she cannot eat, and she feels generally unwell.”

Elizabeth was hesitant, “I have an idea of what might be wrong, mamma might not be sick at all, quite the opposite.”

“What can you mean? I am convinced she is truly feeling poorly.”

“I think she is- indisposed,” Elizabeth blushed.

“Of course she is indisposed, Lizzy- no! She cannot be ‘indisposed!’ She has not been ‘indisposed’ since Lydia! It is almost twenty years.”

Elizabeth felt her confidence flagging, if Jane did not believe her then she could not convince a soul, “The night I arrived she ordered pork for dinner, you know Jane how I was with Fitz, I could hardly abide the smell.”

“That is not proof of anything, many a person cannot eat rich foods when they feel ill.”

“Her symptoms have increased for the last month.”

“That may only be that she is becoming more unwell.”

“I took the liberty of speaking with her maid.”

“Lizzy!”

“Jane, she has a pause, she is tired, and she is unable to take food. If it was only two years past Lydia, she would have known herself!”

“Lydia is nineteen! Do you truly think after all this time, could it even be possible?” Jane turned to look away, thinking.

“There are several women in my acquaintance who must be very close to the same age as our mother. It is not usual, to be sure, the women I know are often at the far end of a large brood. I only ask you to consider, if you had her very symptoms yourself, what would you think?”

Jane walked on for a few minutes in silence. The suggestion was ridiculous, but there was a certain correctness in the symptoms that was slowly working on Jane’s mind. Elizabeth could see that the idea was gaining ground and she wisely stayed silent. They walked on for some time.

Jane replied at last, “I will observe mamma most carefully tomorrow and then we must tell her what you think.”

“I do not wish to raise her hopes, if we were to wait, the condition would present itself, but we would leave her longer in sickness and despair.”

By the time the walk was finished, Jane was quite convinced in the veracity of Elizabeth’s assumption; still she committed herself to watch and wait. By the end of the next day, it was only too clear. Jane and Elizabeth resolved to speak of it to their mother that evening. Their mother was not receptive.

“Lizzy! I cannot think of such things! Me, and with a daughter of five-and-twenty and three grandchildren besides! Why, Lydia is now nineteen and almost a mother herself! And I am almost three-and-forty. It cannot be. Why would you afflict me with such ridiculous notions?”

“Darcy’s mother had Georgiana after many years with no second and she was near your age,” Elizabeth replied.

“You have said the apothecary cannot diagnose you, it is perhaps not his area of expertise?” Jane added helpfully.

 “I cannot think; but I was never in such a condition. All five girls were easy, I did not even miss a dinner. We went about in Meryton as I always had until the confinement and was recovered after a fortnight. With Lydia, we had her christened before a month was done. After five have already come along you cannot think me to not know myself?”

“Would you not consider calling the midwife? There is no harm in it?” Jane pleaded.

“You know that someone will hear of it and I will be the laughing-stock of the entire county! Thinking myself with child, at my age? Foolish indeed!”

Elizabeth was desperate for some other line of attack that might make her mother hear, “I have heard,” Elizabeth ventured, “that there can be a difference between the type of child.”

At this her mother had nothing to say. She was silent for a short time, before sending her maid for her husband.

“Mr. Bennet you must send a man for Mrs. Reid. She must see me tonight. I will not be able to sleep unless I see her immediately. Send the carriage; she cannot not walk at this hour you know.” 

“Why would Mrs. Reid be required my dear, surely Lizzy or Jane cannot need her?”

“Elizabeth, whom you think is so very wise, has a notion that I must rid her of,” said Mrs. Bennet. With that, her husband retreated to carry out the task.

“You must be aware, Lizzy, that a woman of my age can have symptoms that might seem correct, but signal the end of motherhood, not a beginning. Mrs. Reid will know and put a stop to your silly conjecture. She is not so experienced as Mrs. Walsh, as she was with me for all my daughters, but she died not long after Lydia was born. She was an old woman by then but she had served so many. There is nary a child in the county not delivered by Mrs. Walsh around your age. But Mrs. Reid is the new midwife and Mrs. Long had her for one of her nieces. She said she was very much the same as her predecessor. Jane would have had her if they had stayed longer at Netherfield. I do not know who they had when they left! We shall have it resolved tonight and that shall be the end of it. I do not hope to believe it could be true. I am determined that I shall be in my grave before Mr. Bennet. What a funny thing! For me to spend so long mourning over the idea of his death and for mine to arrive before. Would that not be a silly thing!”

Elizabeth and Jane stayed with her until Mrs. Reid arrived and she confirmed the diagnosis without much difficulty. Mrs. Bennet was assured that perhaps in late winter a new Bennet would grace Longbourn. Though she was also warned that women advanced in years did not have as smooth a time, Mrs. Bennet heard little of the advice. She was about the room immediately, demanding praise from her present children.

“I always told Mr. Bennet that a son would come! We were very determined that he would come and then Lydia was the last and we had to agree it was done. But I always had said that it would happen! With the entail, such a silly thing, there was to be a son and he would care for his mother. I was certain that one day he would come. Oh, we must order the servants a bowl of punch! We ought to be in celebration!”

“Mamma you are still unwell. Perhaps we should be careful.”

“No dear, a good child brings a good illness! This could not be more certain. We will go tomorrow to Meryton. We shall go to my sister’s, Mrs. Philips; she must hear the happy news! And Mrs. Long, we will call on her as well. Lady Lucas, she is visiting Maria I believe. We will not send a post; I can visit when she returns. She is my oldest friend after all. And we must write to my brother Mr. Gardiner. He will be wanting to send his wishes. But we will take the carriage, I am not equal to walking. I will have the tea that Mrs. Reid suggested and be quite well.”

“Mother, Mrs. Reid suggested a longer wait. She said that with advanced age there is a greater chance of a mishap. Why do we not wait until you are recovered?”

“Nonsense, Lizzy! This is what was always to come. I never lost one in all my years.”

“Mother, if you were to wait for the quickening-”

“I will not hear of it. Your aunt will be wanting to see you and Fitz. You must come.”

Elizabeth could see that it was useless to entreat her mother further and hoped, though she knew it would be useless, that perhaps her father might see more reason. She also began to suspect that she would regret suggesting that the child would be male. Her mother hardly needed encouragement in that notion. Abandoning Jane, she went to the library. Mr. Bennet was at his usual employment, having heard nothing that went on outside.

“Papa, we have discovered the source of mamma’s long illness.”

“Oh really? I must own Lizzy; it is the most ill I have seen your mother in my life. Nothing like her usual nerves.”

“She is with child.”

Mr. Bennet looked at his daughter with unrestrained amazement, “You cannot be serious.”

“Mrs. Reid is quite certain,” said Elizabeth, who had not seen her father so extraordinarily surprised in her life.

“Mr. Bennet!” her mother burst into the room, having exhausted the congratulations of her daughters, “Lizzy has told you the news, there is to be a boy at last!”

“Lizzy has only told me of a child.”

“Oh Mr. Bennet, why must you be so tiresome, it must be a boy. I am so very sure of it.”

“Only yesterday, my dear, you were certain of your passing.”

“For a child to come at this age, Mr. Bennet, I feel it is the work of providence. It must indeed be a boy. And Lizzy said, an unlike child might make a difference. I was never so sick with any of the girls.”

Mr. Bennet gave Elizabeth a meaningful look, she replied, “As I have said Mamma, it is only a possibility.”

“No, it will be,” Mrs. Bennet countered, “I am so very sure of it.”

“Listen to your daughter, dear,” Mr. Bennet cautioned, “We may be just as pleased with a daughter, now that most of our five are so often gone from home.”

“I am certain,” Mrs. Bennet said curtly, “I will not hear anything else.” With that she quit the room and searched out anyone else who had not yet heard her wonderful news. Mr. Bennet watched her go in awe, he had never imagined that he might have another child. He thought his days of raising children were far behind him.

Mrs. Bennet was dressed for breakfast the next morning. She took her tea and was able to have toast as well. She had by no means changed her plans and immediately took to convincing Elizabeth that they were to go to town.

“My sister will be so delighted to hear the news! We dined with the Philips often when Mary and Kitty were away. She is desperate to see you and she will be so pleased with little Fitz. Why, just this morning he called me ‘grandmama’, he speaks so well! She must see him and my other friends as well.”

Elizabeth was persuaded throughout breakfast and assented against her better judgement. Mrs. Philips was visited and a promise extracted to have her for the confinement. Mrs. Bennet scarcely seemed tired through the visits, though upon returning home she went to sleep and was unable to be roused, even for dinner.

Fitzwilliam,

We have discovered the source of my mother’s ailment and done a good deal in the way of curing her: she is with child. It is far enough along that we expect the child to arrive sometime early next year. She insists she will be well enough to visit in December, so our plans shall not materially change. My mother is loath to part with myself or Jane and I have agreed to stay until the end of the month. You can imagine her general reaction to the news and my feelings when we go out for visits.

Kitty is to return with me to Pemberley but Mary declined an invitation. She says it is her duty to stay at home during this difficult time. I must say, Kitty seems far more comfortable with us than she is at Longbourn. We must contrive to keep her with us as long as possible, I am sure that Kitty’s friendship with Georgiana does my sister a great deal of good and I have come to enjoy her company a great deal besides. It is a pity we were not closer as children.

I shall not be able to finish the arrangements with Mrs. Smith until I return but I am anxious to have that piece of business resolved. Would you be so good as to give her what we have agreed upon and send her on her way? What I have heard from my father since arriving only hardens my resolve and I trust your judgement in her character implicitly.

Our son is as lively as ever, but he also sat for an entire half an hour making his letters with my father. My mother has sent the servants searching for any surviving vestige of our childhood and she discovered three of our old chalkboards. They are almost beyond use, but Fitz has been considering them his very own and jealously guarding them from all but his dear grandpapa.

All the love in the world,

Elizabeth Darcy

Dear Maria,

We are all well here at Longbourn, much better than I reported in my previous letter. My mother is not ill, she is expecting a confinement! Can you believe something so strange? It was Lizzy who found it out, we have been so very worried for her health. It is supposed to be a great secret, though you know that every great secret is sure to be known everywhere. However, I shall maintain the pretence: do not let the news go beyond your family.

I am so happy that you and little Philip are both recovering well and out of danger! I am sure we shall hear everything about him when your mother returns. I would love to visit, but Elizabeth is intent on having me back at Pemberley. I wish you were not settled so far off.

My dear friend, I shall tell you, I am entirely convinced the Darcys only want me for Georgiana’s comfort. I like her very well and am always glad to be away from home, but I am certain these frequent visits will cease once Miss Darcy is married. She is sure to find someone before me, I have so very little to offer.

Have you read any novels recently? Georgiana has given me a few of her older ones; I only just finished The Mysteries of Udolpho. It was horrid, by which I mean perfect. I must wait to read The Romance of the Forest, we had not enough room in the carriage for it with all the trunks and bandboxes!

Write to me soon and tell me everything of your little dear boy.

Love, & etc. Kitty Bennet

Chapter 8, July 1814, Lucas Lodge

Lady Lucas was not a woman of much accomplishment or intelligence. She had married Sir William Lucas young and without much fortune. His being raised to knighthood had both elevated the couple and put their prosperity in danger, as Sir William had quit the trades and they lived only through investments. Their home was large enough for their station but with seven children and little fortune for their daughters, they had never enough to be entirely comfortable. Despite this, Lady Lucas was good and kind, the exact sort of woman one would want for a neighbour and a friend. Though one must be certain as well that Mrs. Bennet never thanked her for it and perhaps with some good reason, as Charlotte’s securing of Mr. Collins was a blow to Mrs. Bennet’s hopes that she might never completely forgive.

Lady Lucas had considered this event to be a great triumph: the marriage of Charlotte Lucas, her eldest daughter and by then seven-and-twenty, to Mr. William Collins, the heir presumptive to Longbourn. After enduring Mrs. Bennet’s beautiful daughters for years and her constant talking of them, Lady Lucas was content in the knowledge that the estate would not fall to Elizabeth, who refused the engagement to Mr. Collins, but to her own daughter. Lady Lucas did not wish ill health on Mr. Bennet but knowing that her own daughter would someday be settled in the neighbourhood and so well, could not but make her pleased. While she still had four children home, and the eldest boy unmarried, her children’s future had still seemed well provided for.

When she returned home from visiting Maria, Mrs. Bennet was the first to call. Jane and Elizabeth accompanied their mother; Kitty and Mary forgotten as ever when their elder sisters were visiting. Mrs. Bennet had burst into the drawing room with the happy news. Lady Lucas was fortunately already sitting because she felt quite faint. She saw a small blush from each of the daughters for how indelicately their mother spoke. She was certain they knew the effect the news was having.

“And Mrs. Reid will not confirm it, but I am most certain it is to be a boy. For you know something must be different this time. I have never been so ill! You know how much I have suffered; I am sure it is a boy. I never imagined that we could have another. It had been so long since Lydia. But, however, I always felt somehow the boy would indeed come.”

Lady Lucas was polite in her congratulations and related to them that both Maria and Charlotte, and their families, were in good health. She inquired after Jane and Elizabeth who were happy to reply with more acceptable news. Elizabeth was quick to guide the conversation away from Mrs. Bennet’s indelicate conversation and towards Mr. Lucas’s endeavours.

Lady Lucas was happy to oblige, “I have some news myself, on my way home I passed through London, William has entered into an engagement with a Miss Margaret Dashwood from Dorsetshire. I had dinner with Miss Dashwood and her guardians, Colonel and Mrs. Brandon. A very lovely family.”

“How lovely,” said Jane, with real feeling, “What sort of girl is Miss Dashwood?”

“She is very amiable and lively, just the sort to suit William. She is musical, which will be a delight for us I am sure. And to add to her many perfections, she has a fortune of four thousand pounds.”

“When shall we expect her in Hertfordshire?” said Elizabeth.

“It is all very recent, perhaps in a few months.”

Elizabeth and Jane would happily have continued in this manner for some time, but their mother would not abide it.

“Both of our families will be in preparations! I have been so busy about the nursery. There are many clothes to purchase and make up. The cradle has been out in the nursery for our grandchildren, but most of the baby things went to my sister, Mrs. Gardiner, some years ago. When we did accept that there were no more children to come, it was reasonable. But now you begin to regret not having anything left.”

 “Would you like some tea?” Lady Lucas asked in a mild tone.

“No, I can hardly stomach it. Mrs. Reid has given me one particularly for my condition and it has suited me very well. I will have more when we return to Longbourn. I cannot have a bite without feeling very ill.”

Tea was brought for Jane and Elizabeth and they took it, saying only a few words as their mother went on. In time she had no more to say of her own happiness and began to speculate on Kitty’s future prospects. Lady Lucas bore it with fortitude and said little. Her mind was overcome and her concern for Charlotte was pressing. As soon as the ladies took their leave, she wrote to her daughter.

It was not in Lady Lucas’s nature, however, to dwell on the matter long. Her thoughts carried her thusly: it seemed unlikely, that even with such a miraculous conception at such an age, that Mrs. Bennet would indeed produce a son. Furthermore, her daughter was so well settled, so high within the esteem of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, that her current situation must be thought of fondly. Indeed, it would not be so great an evil for them to remain in Kent, which was not so far a distance, and continue under the patronage that Mr. Collins had been lucky enough to secure. After all, to Lady Lucas’s mind, Mr. Collins was a good sort of man and he and Charlotte had already been blessed with a son. No, while Lady Lucas did post the letter, she had by the time it was sent reconciled herself to the facts of the matter. She had none of Mrs. Bennet’s confidence in a male child. And if a boy was to come, Lady Lucas would learn to endure it.

Sent to Woodhaven, forwarded to Longbourn

Mrs. Jane Bingley,

I hope this letter finds you, Mr. Bingley, and young Charles and Lewis well. I had hoped to be able to put off my entreaties for some time, but the wife of an officer has social obligations as you must know. Fitting up the nursery has also been a great expense, despite help from mamma. You must know everything that I have to purchase! I cannot think that your nephew or niece should be brought into the world with so little. I ask only for some small amount until Wickham returns from London. Ten or twenty pounds would be enough to get us through.

Love etc. Mrs. Lydia Wickham

Dear Mrs. Philips,

I hope that you and Mr. Philips remain in good health. I have spoken with Mr. Harding regarding my imminent departure and he is very desolate at the prospect of losing me. I mean to convey no vanity but I believed it would be gratifying for you to hear that your nephew excels in the profession laid out as his destiny. As much as I have greatly enjoyed my time in Northamptonshire, I am eager to return home and establish myself in Meryton. I know that my uncle must have his well-earned days of pleasure and retirement in view. Thank you for your kind offer of accommodation while I look for a more permanent situation; I shall accept it with pleasure.

It is now incumbent upon me to relate some more melancholy news. Miss Maddox, who I had been hoping to join with in my future establishment, has declined my offer of marriage. I can only presume that by the time I return to Hertfordshire, I shall have recovered from this wound to my sensibilities. If you have any notion of a woman who might suit my situation in life, do not hesitate to inform me. I have for some time considered you as acting in the place of my dearly departed mother.

I shall send word when everything is arranged here, there are a few cases to be settled before I feel it entirely proper to depart.

Your devoted nephew, Mr. Edward Philips

Chapter 9 – July 1814, Pemberley

Caroline accidentally met Colonel Fitzwilliam during the morning as he was writing in the drawing room. “You are busy, I shall not ask if you want to walk in the garden with us women,” said she.

“If you will wait, I shall be finished in a moment,” said he.

“The other two will want to go,” Caroline said, and giving them leave to go on ahead of her, she settled into one of the nearby chairs.

“It is only a note to my aunt to inform her of my coming. It will not take long,” said the Colonel.

Caroline sat patiently for a moment before observing, “How delighted she will be to receive such a letter!”

“One must hope that a letter will be received well, when one takes the trouble to write it.”

“It must be no great difficulty to yourself; you write uncommonly fast.”

 “If I do, it is only because I would rather be out of doors.”

“Are you very fond of walking?”

“Only if I have excellent company, but I see no difficulty from that quarter.”

Caroline had no easy reply to such a pointed remark. She said instead, “I am afraid you do not like your pen, let me mend it for you.”

When it was returned, he said, ““You mend pens remarkably well.”

“Thank you, I consider it a small accomplishment,” she said playfully.

He finished and folded the letter, “Do you think we have any chance of overcoming the others?”

“We may try, they are to walk east I believe.”

“It is unpardonable to walk east in the morning, with the sun full in your eyes, may I suggest another path?”

This was exactly as Caroline had planned and she was nearly surprised that everything had been carried out without much trouble to herself. As they walked, the conversation was easy and interesting, as it often is when a person is determined to be charming and the other is not staunchly opposed to such a notion. It might be imagined that the lush scenery of Pemberley would have inspired envy in either party, one who wished to have been its mistress and the other who might have wished for a similar inheritance, yet today no untoward emotion could be felt in environs which would serve so well for their purposes.

Georgiana must be the first topic discussed by two people who loved her well. Speaking of Georgiana led to Pemberley which naturally brought them to the Darcys, “Have you ever seen two people so happily matched?” said he.

“No, but then who is capable of being unhappy in a place such as this? A good inheritance is the best recipe for happiness I ever heard of.”

In a cooler tone he replied, “A woman such as yourself may choose her degree of wealth. She has only to decide on her number of thousands a year and there is no doubt of their coming.”

She laughed, “You are far too sanguine about my prospects; there are certainly not enough men of fortune in the world as women who deserve them. My aspirations have long been rather moderate. A competence is enough to satisfy me.”

“A competence! You must tell me your definition of a competence so that I may call it wealth.”

“And you the son of an earl? Can you really think that our characterization of competence and wealth would be so very dissimilar? I will not allow it.”

“You protest, but you have not answered me,” said he.

“If you insist, a competence would be a reasonable establishment in town and enough to spare that one may escape during the summer months to superior society. I have always been partial to Scarborough.”

“Moderation itself! Do you truly imagine such modest requirements could secure your happiness?”

“I firmly believe that if there is not money enough, there is little hope of lasting felicity. Yet to place all hope in a high income is equally foolish. One cannot marry based on income alone! If a man owned half the kingdom but had not an amiable disposition, I would refuse him readily.”

“Ah, here is the truth, now you must describe the wealth of talents you require,” said he.

“No no, that will not do. I have revealed my idea of a competence, now you owe me your picture of an accomplished woman.”

“That is simple, I shall not ask for anything above my desserts, let her only be a charming conversationalist, a graceful walker, and expert at mending pens.”

She smiled prettily and they walked on, without much caring where they went. She could not know that the Colonel had formed a similar plan as herself. The want of being married had been impressed upon him by both his father and his own inclinations. His prospects had always been restricted as a younger son without an independence and Miss Bingley was a woman of both fashion and wealth. If she and her fortune would have him, he thought the match rather advantageous to both sides.

The next few days would pass in a similar manner. An understanding was reached just in time for them to part. Colonel Fitzwilliam must speak first to his father and until then not a word was to be spoken of the arrangement. Caroline remained at Pemberley, waiting for Charles and Jane to return home from Longbourn so she could join them. She was now fully purposed to be the guest of neither her brother or sister much longer.

Chapter 10 – July 1814, Rosings Park

Charlotte Collins had never been so ill at ease dining with Lady Catherine de Bourgh as that evening. She had become accustomed over four long years to the ridiculousness of her husband and the ill-bred manners of their patroness. For years, she worked to change what she could and forget what would remain, but her mind was in turmoil and she was unable to dine in her usual contentment. It was a small party that night, there were no visitors staying with the lady, a couple of some rank from the county was present and Miss de Bourgh and her companion, Mrs. Jenkinson, but no others. The lack of contribution by Charlotte was felt.

“Do you not agree, Mrs. Collins?” Lady Catherine demanded, “Mr. Collins is quite right that the path should be adjusted. I am sure that the adjustment would do away with the troublesome puddle that is often present in the spring.”

“Pardon me, your ladyship, I have received a- disconcerting letter from home. It has been occupying my mind.”

“Not ill news? You said your father and mother were in good health.”

“They are in good health but have informed me that Mrs. Bennet is to have another child. It is a development that she did not hope to expect. As you know, it may be a turn in our fortunes, if it is indeed a boy.”

“That is very odd. For such a couple to have a child so late. What is to be made of it?”

Mr. Collins did not know what to say; he had not settled the matter in his mind since hearing of it that morning when the post arrived. When the news had first been told to him, he had been extremely vexed. The inheritance had seemed so certain that he had made an offer to a woman with no fortune! Now he felt some regret in his choice, he ought to have traded higher based on his possible inheritance.

After a few hours of solitary reflection, he had made himself reasonably content. The Bennets were sure to produce another girl. For the present however, he would redouble his efforts to be agreeable to Lady Catherine. Her ladyship had given Mr. Collins a second living just the last year, which had made a material difference to their lifestyle. There was one living left within Lady Catherine’s patronage and Mr. Collins felt that the incumbent was nearing his last days. That must be the balm for the loss of Longbourn, if he was indeed to lose it.

 Charlotte continued, “My mother says Mrs. Bennet has been unwell for some time but they did not guess the cause. It has been confirmed and they are preparing for the winter. I find it hard to envision Mrs. Bennet having a son. With five daughters it makes one wonder if a boy can ever come along.”

“It is unaccountable indeed. That throws the inheritance into question for you, Mr. Collins.”

“Indeed, you are very kind to think of my future fortune, my lady.”

“I have never agreed with entails. My estate will fall to Anne and it is proper that it should. She will not have to worry about my passing as the Miss Bennets certainly have of their father. I suppose it would bring Mr. and Mrs. Bennet great happiness to finally secure the estate to their own child. Though, I am certain Mr. Collins would have made a more careful manager. The gardens were not to my liking and the sitting room, I remember faced full west. The house was in much want of improvement. Do you not think so, Mr. Collins?”

“Your ladyship has an eye for deficiencies that I am sure is unrivalled among your peers. We have always found your suggested alterations to be of great benefit to our humble abode.”

“Quite right. To have you more fixed at Rosings would be no burden to me. While I knew that your inheritance may take you away from Kent sometime or another, I always wish to see a parson in control of his own living. This business of installed curates is odious to myself.”

“You have been very gracious towards our family. The very picture of benevolence.”

“Had I sons of my own, the living would have been for them, but I have found myself only with a daughter. It was my duty to find a suitable proprietor for the parsonage. I still believe that I have appointed the perfect rector,” said her ladyship.

The conversation turned towards Lady Catherine’s nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was currently at Pemberley visiting Georgiana and had written to inform his aunt that he would visit soon. Charlotte could not bring herself to listen or join in the conversation. Neither her husband nor Lady Catherine seemed to mind the immense change in fortunes that Charlotte faced if Mrs. Bennet did, at long last, bear a son. Charlotte was a practical and intelligent woman and while she wished Mr. Bennet a long life and every happiness for her friend Elizabeth, she had thought of Longbourn when she consented to marry Mr. Collins. She had been pleased with her house and living, they were able to keep several servants and she was no longer required in the kitchen, but in her head, it was fixed as a time that would pass and then they would move on to a grander position.

Charlotte could not support her own spirits for the whole evening. She felt Anne’s stupidity, Lady Catherine’s arrogance, and her own husband’s obsequiousness more acutely than ever. The card game they played was the same they had played a hundred times before and as long as Lady Catherine presided, they would play it a hundred times again.

It was a relief to go home and to walk quietly into little William’s room and give him a kiss goodnight. Charlotte’s condition was not yet very far, too soon to be spoken of, though she was sure this had not deterred her husband. She had tried to impress upon him the prudence of secrecy, especially after what had occurred the last time, but he was beyond reason in some areas of life. Charlotte sighed heavily; she was being forced finally to acknowledge that she was unhappy.

Charlotte tried to remind herself of the blessings of her life, a comfortable home, little William, the child to come, and her work among the poor of Hunsford. This time, opposing thoughts were too numerous to be countered, she had no friends within an easy distance except among her poor parishioners, her husband was absurd, Lady Catherine was intolerable, her daughter was hardly better, and their life was an endless monotony of gratifying every indulgence of their patroness. The light which Charlotte had kept her eyes focused on for four long years was fading. She was almost beyond hope.

Lydia,

Send money to this address. And do not pretend you have nothing, for I know you have written to Elizabeth. I need at least fifty pounds, more if you can contrive it.

-Wickham

Dearest Elizabeth,

A month at Pemberley without either you or our son has made the summer more of a hardship than a joy. Will you believe that had it been possible, I would have much rather spent this long interval with you in Hertfordshire? Had there not been several guests and my sister to think of, I would have certainly trespassed on your family’s hospitality. However, as I anticipate your coming soon, I shall endure the wait. While it was entirely proper for you to travel alone in this time of distress, it cannot be allowed to happen again.

Georgiana is delighted that Kitty is returning with you and she sends her love. How empty the house seems with only the two of us, now that our guests have departed. I do not think that my sister and I have been in residence alone these last three years and the difference is too immense to not be noticed. There is far less laughter and too little gaiety.

I have nothing in the way of news, except that the mill is repaired. Georgiana speculates that our cousin might have formed an attachment, but I think too well of him to relate it here.

Yours ever,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

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