Yet the Son was to Come (Ch 21-30)

By Bethany Delleman

Chapter 21 – November 1814, Newcastle

Mrs. Smith was standing in the centre of the drawing room, holding a screaming Lavinia, and regarding Lydia with a look of contempt rarely ever displayed by a nursemaid towards those who might suppose themselves to be her betters. Lydia was dressed and had donned her pelisse, though it was not yet buttoned. Wickham, nearby, was anxious to leave, his coat and hat already on. Mrs. Smith held the child close but there was no other comfort she could provide.

“You must feed your child.” Her words were sternly spoken in a low voice.

Lydia sighed and scowled. They had been invited to a ball by the head of Wickham’s new regiment, Colonel Warren. Lydia’s slender figure had returned quickly and with her youthful looks restored, she had been greatly anticipating this first foray into society. Wickham was anticipating a night of revelry and flirtation which would only nominally include his wife, but he was forced by propriety to wait for her.

“We ought to have a wet-nurse,” Lydia said to her husband. Wickham made no reply. If Elizabeth or Jane did not supply the money, it was not within their ability to hire one.

Lydia took her child and performed her motherly duty with whatever haste she could. Lavinia was calm as soon as her desire was offered to her. Lydia could not hold her daughter long and hardly looked at her. As soon as the chore was finished, she deposited Lavinia into Mrs. Smith’s arms and rushed out the door. The couple walked with a quick step to their destination.

Mrs. Smith took Lavinia to the small nursery and attended to her needs. The poor girl had been only two weeks in the world when her mother had lost all apparent interest in her care. Mrs. Smith had not money enough from Mrs. Darcy to engage a wet-nurse but she felt compelled to request one. Each time Lavinia was hungry, Mrs. Smith found herself scolding Lydia into her duty. It was highly irregular, in all of Mrs. Smith’s years she had never met a mother with such little natural feeling towards her child. Lydia did not seem to want to hold or even look at her child.

Mrs. Smith was not unkind or ignorant, she knew that sometimes a mother’s mind would turn to morbid thoughts or close to the world, leaving the mother and child in a dire situation, but that was not what she observed in Lydia. It seemed that neither Wickham nor Lydia, both so charmed by society, had ever meant to create a child. Now that they had her, they were both determined to forget that they did. The situation was unsupportable and even with her presence, Mrs. Smith feared deeply for the health and well-being of the child.

With the baby returned to her cradle, Mrs. Smith sat down to write to Mrs. Darcy. Her hand trembled with the importance of her request, but her mind was resolved. She must ask that a wet-nurse be sent for Lavinia or that Mrs. Darcy intervene in some other way for the sake of the child. She knew Mrs. Darcy was a rational woman and her descriptions of Lydia’s behaviour had been met with little surprise. The letter was sealed and set aside for the morning post with a heavy, but resolute heart.

Lydia knew nothing of the mind of her nursemaid, nor did she at present care. She was dancing, having filled up her entire card for the evening. Her partner was a young officer for the first two dances but for the next she danced with Colonel Warren himself. Lydia had not yet made his acquaintance as he had recently taken lead of the regiment. He was a single man, at least thirty years of age, with a strong figure and a reserved manner. He was not handsome but carried himself with such a stately air that most hardly noticed. He was not from a rich family as Lydia knew, for gossip spread fast among the wives of the officers. He had purchased his original commission on credit, but his intelligence and ability were soon recognized by his superiors. His merit had caused several superiors to secure promotions from their own funds. Having achieved such success in his profession, his mind had been full of his employment to such a degree that he had never looked for a wife. 

When the dancing broke for tea, Lydia did not bother to seek her husband but her eyes rested upon him at last unconsciously. She saw again the smiles and graces which had once been reserved for herself, at least, that had been what she had then been led to believe at the time. He was making himself agreeable to several giggling young ladies and they were looking at him with naked admiration. Lydia helped herself to more wine and tried to smile and be easy herself. She was a general favourite to the men of the corps after all; but she was in no humour that night for flirtation.

She attempted to be pleasing and careless, she drank more than she ought to have and watched in silent indignation as her husband exercised his gallantry. Did the women know that he was married? Did he think of her at all? The tacit agreement that had been in place for at least two years, where Lydia ignored his dalliances and he did not hear her flirtations seemed cruel now. Lydia excused herself from the table without much grace and fled into the hallway. She tried to find somewhere to be alone.

Colonel Warren, nearly half an hour later, was on his way to speak to the innkeeper and instead discovered Mrs. Wickham, sobbing quietly in the stairwell.

“Are you well, madam?” he asked, offering her his hand.

Lydia tried to stand gracefully, but she could not manage herself and he was forced to catch and steady her. She moved her mouth into a smile, “My preserver, I am obliged to you,” she said in a forced cheerful tone.

“You look very ill,” he said, “Where is your husband? Shall I send for him? Allow me to be of service to you.”

Lydia was alarmed, Wickham could not see her like this. He would only laugh at her. “No, I am well enough. I do not think he will come if he is asked. Men must have their little pleasures,” she said and tried to laugh and appear easy.

He looked at her with concern, and offering his arm, helped her down the stairs, “Allow me at least to escort you home, Mrs. Wickham. I cannot leave you in this state.”

Lydia blushed, but she could not recover her usual careless manner and after he urgently pressed her again, she accepted his offer. Her pelisse was fetched and Colonel Warren attended her home. They parted civilly and Lydia, struck by his kindness, thanked him with more real gratitude than she had ever expressed. It had been far too long since any man, or indeed any person, had treated her with such disinterested kindness.

She went through her door, knowing Wickham would not question or notice her absence from the ball and feeling almost nothing as she walked in. Lydia’s house was not to her a refuge or a place where she expected affection. Lydia’s temper was one that required attention and for some time before Lavinia’s arrival she had happily existed only on the fleeting ecstasy of the admiration of near strangers. She had a longing for something less ephemeral, but had no means by which to acquire it. A rash action at sixteen had ruined her chances at real happiness forever.

She walked past the nursery and felt a twist of despair. This home, if there was love enough within for it to bear that name, was no place for a child. She could not care for Lavinia and remain careless. She could not tolerate opening her heart for a child if it meant she would feel the truth of her own wretched situation. Lydia knew in her heart that she could not give Lavinia the devotion the girl deserved and required when she received nothing from her husband. What chance did this child have with such a father and mother?

Lydia turned and went to Mrs. Smith’s room, entering without knocking. “Ma’am, excuse me, but this is my own quarters,” Mrs. Smith said in clear indignation, but Lydia saw what she wanted, a sealed letter on the desk, directed to Mrs. Darcy. She took it quickly in her hand.

“You are writing to my sister?” she said calmly.

“She is my employer,” Mrs. Smith said, outstretching her hand for the letter.

“Ah,” said Lydia, and turning round, she tossed the letter into the dying fire.

“Mrs. Wickham!”

“If I am even nominally your employer,” said Lydia coldly, “I wish for you to return to Derbyshire. Tell Elizabeth what you wish when you arrive.”

“It is my responsibility to care for your daughter.”

“If Elizabeth wants to control her niece’s care, then I give it over to her entirely. Take Lavinia with you.”

“I must write to Mrs. Darcy first and ask-”

“No,” said Lydia, rapidly sobering as she contemplated the weight of her decision, “you must take her and be gone as soon as you can. I shall send a letter with you explaining everything to Mrs. Darcy. I know that it is what you think best.”

Mrs. Smith knew not what to say. Lydia turned towards the door and turned away, rested a hand against the frame, “How soon can you depart?”

“I shall need a day to ready everything,” Mrs. Smith said solemnly, “and permission from your husband.”

“It shall be arranged,” said Lydia, “you will travel by post.”

Lydia went to her bedroom and opened one of her bandboxes. Inside was a lock of Lavinia’s hair, taken at her birth, and twenty pounds that she had managed to keep away from Wickham. The money went to Mrs. Smith. Lydia stole into her daughter’s room and took one of her tiny caps. She could not bring herself to glance into the cradle and look upon the tiny angelic face. The cap replaced the money in the bandbox. She picked up the lock of hair and kissed it tenderly.

“This is everything I can do for you,” she whispered.

The next day the nursery was packed, Wickham consented, and Mrs. Smith found a suitable wet-nurse to accompany her to Derbyshire. Lavinia left her first home early the next morning, while her parents still slept. It was not long afterwards that the Wickhams, without the support of family, quitted their rented rooms and in order to settle some debts, sold everything that remained in the nursery.

Chapter 22 – November 1814, Pemberley

“Elizabeth,” said Georgiana, as she looked out the window of the music room, “Were we expecting a guest?”

“No,” Elizabeth moved to the window, “they are travelling post.” She could not think of anyone who might possibly be travelling post.

“Shall we go down?” said Kitty.

“Yes, that would be the proper thing to do,” said Elizabeth absently, still trying to understand who could have come at such a time. The three women descended the stairs and were all surprised to be met by two women, one carrying a sleeping infant.

“Mrs. Smith?” cried Elizabeth.

“I am sorry that I could not send word, ma’am. Your sister insisted.”

Elizabeth took the letter offered to her and tore it open.

Elizabeth,

If you must have your way, take it without my interference. I leave Lavinia to your care. Your nursemaid does not think me a proper mother and I cannot disagree.

Lydia Wickham

Such a letter! It could not do much to aid Elizabeth’s comprehension of the situation nor quiet the emotions raised as she began to reflect upon what Lydia had done. It was all a piece with her understanding of her sister’s character, but it sank all her hopes that Lydia might have risen to the great occasion of motherhood. She took the baby and looked for the first time at her beautiful niece. How Lydia could have done such a thing was beyond all comprehension.

“Is this really Lavinia?” said Kitty, “her name has always sounded French to me, Lavinia, tu est tres mignonne!”

Elizabeth began to return to the present concerns, “Are you settled with the driver?” she asked Mrs. Smith.

“Yes, Mrs. Wickham paid our way.” A few coins were dropped into Elizabeth’s open hand. She thanked the wet-nurse for making such a difficult journey and it was agreed that the nurse would remain until Elizabeth could find a local woman to take up the task. Mrs. Smith, after speaking with Mrs. Darcy and giving what information she could of the Wickhams, was conveyed by the Darcy carriage to her own home in the village.

When everything had been arranged as well as it could be after such a shock, Fitzwilliam arrived to hear the news and see the child. Kitty and Georgiana were holding the baby and he took his wife aside.

“It was Lydia’s doing?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said, still surprised and mortified, “unnatural creature.”

“You said she paid for the journey?”

“Yes, what does that matter? She has abandoned her child!”

Her husband looked grave, “Has she cast her daughter away or tried to save her? The woman that we supposed your sister to be, she would not have had the money to pay for her child to travel post or cared to have done it. Mrs. Smith could have easily travelled on our credit. You know how unable and unwilling Wickham is to support them in any reasonable situation.”

“Do you really believe that to be possible or are you trying to comfort me?”

“Perhaps it is what I want to believe, but I cannot think my explanation impossible.”

Elizabeth looked back towards the child, “What are we to do?”

“Consider our obligation to your sister fulfilled,” said he.

“Are you certain? Can you accept his child?”

“Are you not already fully determined to have her?”

Elizabeth tried to smile, “It is unfair for you to take the full portion of wisdom for the day.”

“Tomorrow will bring you a more equitable share.”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said. It was not until later that evening, when she again held her niece, that she began to believe her husband’s interpretation of the event. As she held Lavinia, she saw stitched along the hem in Lydia’s quick, neat hand the words ‘My beloved’.

Dear Elizabeth,

We are all well. Both little Charles and Lewis have begun to walk. Charles took to it first, but his brother could not be left behind. I am pleased to inform you that we will be coming directly from Rosings to you within the week, as Charles has discharged his duty as protector to Caroline to a worthy man. Lady Catherine has become very attached to Caroline and considers her an excellent match for Colonel Fitzwilliam. She requested that they marry directly, and Charles could not make any protest, for it only moves the event forward a few months. Your aunt arranged everything and Mr. Collins has already joined them in marriage. They are to stay with Lady Catherine at Rosings for the time being. As you may know, the Colonel has resigned his commission and is at his leisure to stay.

I have written before of my doubts of Caroline’s true attachment to Fitzwilliam, but I can no longer fear for her. Her attentions to himself and his aunt are very proper. At the wedding, we saw no hesitation or improper feeling. Caroline assures us of her great happiness. Your cousin seems entirely happy with his choice.

I cannot wait to see you, dear sister, for I have much to tell you.

Yours, Jane Bingley etc.

Chapter 23 – November 1814, Longbourn

“There is a great distinction in being round with a child,” Mrs. Bennet observed to her husband. She was preparing to go into town and was adjusting her gown to best display her badge of honour.

“You did not order the carriage, should I call for the horses?”

“Oh, never mind the carriage, Mary is to walk with me. Mrs. Reid has told me that a walk, every now and then, is very good for a woman in my condition. I will only be visiting my sister Philips and you know she can send her boy if I am in great need of conveyance.”

“You have not walked to Meryton in years, my dear, and Mrs. Reid advises it now?”

 “I do think everything has changed since Lydia, to hear Mrs. Reid talk of it, I wonder I ever had a healthy baby before!”

“There cannot be so much a difference, Lydia is only nineteen. Babies have not undergone any material change to my knowledge.”

“I assure you Mr. Bennet, there are so many new things being discovered. Mrs. Reid is also in agreement with Lizzy and Jane about feeding the child myself, even past the confinement! It is a rather novel notion, but then, however, it has always been difficult to find a proper nursemaid. I shall be saving myself a good deal of trouble.”

“This is entirely ridiculous,” Mr. Bennet declared. It was an overthrow of all his ideas. He had been feeling that he and his wife were great proficients in the first several years of child rearing and was disconcerted by this news. How could there be anything that his wife did not know? His feelings of dread had been increasing since the discovery of his wife’s unexpected pregnancy and he could feel them coming to a head. He had already determined that it would be best to set some of his income aside for an eventual inheritance should the child be another girl. He could not draw his recollections away from the terrible day of Lydia’s elopement. The shame of that circumstance had not faded as he thought it might.

“Mrs. Bennet, I will accompany you today,” he resolved, surprising both his wife and Mary, who were already prepared to depart.

“Mr. Bennet do not be absurd, when have you ever accompanied us on our visits?”

“When indeed,” Mr. Bennet thought to himself, but he answered, “I wish to see Mr. Philips.”

He did not wish to see Mr. Philips. Mr. Bennet was ruminating on the words of his wisest daughter when she had rightly pleaded for him to attend to Lydia’s behaviour. 

“If you, my dear father, will not take the trouble of checking her exuberant spirits, and of teaching her that her present pursuits are not to be the business of her life, she will soon be beyond the reach of amendment.”

He had been thinking for some time that hope was lost when it came to any change: his daughters were too old for him to exert any influence. Here was a chance for him to begin from the start, to instill the proper morals and principles into his own child. He must finally accept the responsibility that had been his since he married a wife with vulgar manners and little propriety. It was his duty and obligation to make his family somewhat more respectable, though he still doubted if anything could be done to improve his wife. It was not for his own domestic comfort, but for his child. If he was to have any chance of succeeding, he must accompany Mrs. Bennet on a visit and he must exert himself to leave the comforts of the library and understand what was to be corrected.

As the party walked to Meryton, Mr. Bennet attempted to actually attend to his wife’s words. She was extraordinarily verbose; he did not often listen to more than half of what she said. The more he listened to her speaking to Mary, and occasionally himself, the more he feared the task ahead. He was well aware of the bounds of proper conduct and had been fortunate that Jane and Elizabeth had readily imbibed them instead of the coarse manners of his wife. He could not hope for that fortunate ending again; he had nearly lost one daughter to his indolence and he would not lose more.

The visit with Mrs. Philips was worse than Mr. Bennet expected. His wife spoke of her concerns: her children and grandchildren; her coming confinement; and her affairs in the household with enough effusion that he was greatly surprised that she could not understand her own errors. Mrs. Philips, when she was permitted to speak, spoke of her husband, her guests, and her plans for decorating the drawing room. Their manners were similar, Mr. Bennet realized to his great disappointment. Marriage alone had not lifted Mrs. Bennet out of the understanding of her youth. This could not be surprising; he had never taken the effort to display proper conduct in his home. He had always been content to withdraw.

Mr. Bennet took only a moment to watch Mary, who was deep in discussion with her cousin Edward. Mrs. Bennet had only spoken in passing of Edward, and Mr. Bennet had paid so little attention that the budding intimacy had escaped his notice. He was pleased for Mary; Edward Philips seemed far more sensible and refined than his uncle. He could not see any evil in the alliance if it was indeed to come.

By the time the family had returned to Longbourn, Mr. Bennet had begun to form a plan; several plans to be exact. He had identified, while ignoring his wife and daughter on the walk home, that there were many areas that must be improved in the conduct of his wife but more importantly, in himself. He had no temper or inclination to force Mrs. Bennet into different behaviour, but he had often observed that Elizabeth could temper her mother’s outbursts with light comments of her own. This could not be beyond his abilities.

He resolved to begin at home and when his wife invited visitors, as she loved to do, he was resolved to be more present, to redirect conversation and pretend, for it must be pretended, to take interest in his neighbour’s concerns. He could only hope that his wife would choose to follow where he led.

While an improvement in their general civility must be important, Mr. Bennet knew it was not the largest fault with his management of his family’s affairs. He was aware that his estate was not maintained with the care that it required. His steward was competent, but there were deficiencies in his own conduct as the landowner that he had long ignored. He would find out what was to be done and he would correct it.

“Do you not agree, Mr. Bennet?” broke his reverie.

“With what, my dear?” he replied.

“That Mary ought to forget about Edward, that she should wait to visit with Jane.”

“I do not think that entirely wise,” Mr. Bennet said, “Edward Philips has much to recommend him and we would not want to insult your sister.”

“Oh Mr. Bennet, you are so tiresome, you must know that Mary could have another man of a higher income than a country attorney could ever hope for!”

Mr. Bennet looked at his daughter, who was flushed with vexation, “Mary can decide for herself, Mrs. Bennet. I do not wish you to press her. I would suggest that you do not discuss your ideas with your sister.”

Mrs. Bennet looked cross but did not reply. Mr. Bennet sighed, there was always something more to do when it came to the women of his household. The task before him was insurmountable. If he had not happened to glance at his wife’s growing condition in that moment, he might have given up all hope of reformation. Yet, he had been reminded of his duty and the hopes that child carried weighed heavily on him. He was resolved; it must be attempted.

Darcy,

I hardly know how to write and so I will begin with Caroline’s arrival in Kent. Our aunt was as direct as ever during our first dinner, but quickly an attachment formed between the pair. Caroline attended to her as I did and soon, they spent long mornings with Caroline playing and singing, which did wonders for our aunt’s recovery. She began to compare Caroline with Anne, seeming to regard Caroline as what Anne might have been. The intimacy progressed rapidly and it was soon that our aunt requested our immediate marriage.

Charles Bingley consented at once. I cannot imagine him standing against the combined forces of Lady Catherine and Caroline! The date was set, and Jane and Charles departed to join you soon afterwards. All this I believe you know. What happened next, could not have been expected, at least by myself.

Lady Catherine called us to meet with her and we entered to find her attorney and there were contracts and documents on the table spread before us. My father was present as well, though I had no idea of him coming. The Lady and the Earl had come to an agreement to make me the full inheritor of Rosings, the house and all the grounds, on the condition that Caroline and I were to settle permanently with our aunt until her passing. I am to take her name, for she did not wish to see the line end and has come to consider myself and Caroline the most fit to continue the family. We could do nothing but consent. Caroline said not a word, but I could feel her joy.

Consider us now fixed in Kent, though I am sure Caroline will persuade our aunt to release us to London for some of the season. She has many friends she wishes to visit and it is an easy distance. Do not think that I will let my new commitment override my duty to your sister, I will come if you call.

Love to Georgiana, Elizabeth, and little Fitz,

Colonel Fitzwilliam-de Bourgh

Dear Cousin,

Charles and Jane wish to inform you that they are arrived and settled here for the celebrations. They both send you sincere congratulations. I must join them; the estate of Rosings could not have fallen into more worthy hands. I have been in your debt for some time for your attention towards Georgiana and I have never doubted the wisdom of my father in naming you a guardian with myself. Your sense of duty and loyalty to the family is unrivalled among our cousins. I wish you and Mrs. de Bourgh great joy.

As you know, it will not be in our power to travel until May at least. You know I have every reason to fear for Elizabeth when her time comes. She assures me that everything will be well, but she does not have my propensity to worry of the future. I speak of things I cannot command; I should instead inform you that Georgiana is happy and healthy. She and Kitty are excited for the visitors we will have for Christmas. We plan to send both of them to the care of your father for Elizabeth’s confinement and perhaps they might see you and Mrs. de Bourgh there.

Warm regards,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

Louisa,

Dear sister, you must come at once and join us at Rosings Park for Christmas. I cannot endure a longer separation! I have introduced the idea of your visiting with care and Lady Catherine has consented to my invitation. Come as soon as you can, it is not such a long distance from London. You must stay with us for the month at least and I hope longer. I do not know how I have gone so long without you!

You know that nothing can rival Pemberley, but you must see what has so suddenly fallen to me. The house is grand, and though I dare not suggest a change to a single chair or picture, I know with care it can become a rival to any great house. Lady Catherine is a woman with little taste, but she has done nothing that cannot be undone and has maintained the estate with great care. Yet, I cannot understand how a fire piece that cost upwards of seven hundred pounds could be so very ugly.

I am sorry that you were not able to come sooner, but it has all been done with such haste. I hardly had time to have my dress prepared for the wedding, but Lady Catherine gave me her own veil to wear, and I had never seen such a thing of beauty. I am so taken with it that I have arranged to wear it again for our portrait, which Lady Catherine is anxious to have done and hung in the place of honour in the gallery.

Let me know the day of your arrival, I am sure it will be soon.

Mrs. Caroline de Bourgh

Chapter 24 – December 1814, Pemberley

“Oh Lizzy, I have so longed to see you!” Mrs. Bennet burst out of the carriage and made her way towards her daughter with a quickness not to be expected of a woman of her age and condition. Mr. Bennet followed behind, no less happy but showing much less of it. Mary, almost forgotten, was handed down by the groom. “Why, it is even grander than the last time I was here. Have you made improvements?”

“Nothing mamma, there is no improvement we could make to such a house.”

“I am certain it seems different to me, but perhaps the light at this hour gives it more character. Are we the first to arrive?”

“No, you are the last. Jane and Charles arrived nearly a week past and the Gardiners are up in their rooms.”

“I am so pleased to have all my daughters together, save for Lydia, but with Lavinia here I wonder that she did not come. Nothing could have prevented her, and her husband.”

“Do you wish to see the children mamma? They are upstairs” Elizabeth said, choosing not to answer for the Wickhams. Her mother should well know that he at least was not welcome at Pemberley.

“Oh yes, I so wish to see Lavinia, and your boy must have grown since I saw him last. It was only a few months I am certain, but they will all have grown. It is such a quick thing is it not?”

“You shall dote on Lavinia, mamma, she is the happiest child I have ever beheld. I must say I am delighted with her. Come and see her, she is loveliness itself.”

Mrs. Bennet then remembered her earlier inquiry, “But why is Lavinia here and not Lydia? I cannot understand it.”

Elizabeth, who had explained it delicately by letter, was forced to repeat, “Lydia’s situation in Newcastle was not accommodating to the baby’s comfort and as they soon expect the regiment to be stationed elsewhere, she thought it best for Lavinia to spend some time with us. And our nursery is already fitted up. It was a simple thing to take over charge of her.”

“I see no reason for Lydia not to accompany her daughter. How I long to see her!”

Elizabeth felt some pity, but as she could not change the situation, she urged her mother again to go upstairs and see her grandchildren. Mrs. Bennet was brought up to the nursery, Mr. Bennet made his excuses and escaped to the library. He loved his grandchildren but preferred to see them one at a time. Elizabeth was happy to see her mother, surrounded by the children at once, talking to them of their interests in an excited tone and taking Lavinia into her arms. She was at her best with children of such a young age. Mrs. Bennet was enchanted by her first granddaughter. She was the picture of her mother and Mrs. Bennet found some consolation in her long separation from Lydia in the enjoyment of Lavinia.

Elizabeth turned now back to her duties as a hostess. Her head full of her plans for the visit, for her parents would be staying four weeks at least. There were small towns and sites to visit for her mother and younger sisters and a space in the library set aside for her father. The men would have their sport and the women their diversions in the house, hopefully without too many disparate tempers clashing.

Elizabeth now showed Mary to her room but went in as well, “I have found the volume of the Monthly Review in Pemberley’s library that you have been searching for; it was the only one not in his collection.”

Mary’s eyes brightened as she took the periodical, “Thank you.”

Elizabeth smiled, “I hope you will accept these as well,” she said, gesturing towards the open closet where several gowns were hung.

“It is too much for a gift!” Mary protested.

“Do not think of it. I have finally come to accept that none of them can be altered enough to fit me again. Your figure is the nearest of my sisters, and Kitty has enough gowns as it is. I think they will suit your colouring.”

Mary turned away from Elizabeth and hoped that she simply appeared to be admiring the present; she could hardly see them through tears. “Thank you” was all she could manage. Elizabeth left her so that she might dress.

Mary looked in the mirror before she left for dinner and could not have been more surprised. There were no moral speeches in her head for she was entirely captivated by her own reflection. Her eyes were brightened by the colour of the fabric, her form shown at great advantage, her hair, dark in colour and without as much volume as her sisters’, had been arranged and decorated so skilfully that Mary herself was forced to acknowledge its beauty. Her first thought was a wish that Edward Phillips could see her, but this caused her to blush. So often forgotten and disregarded, Elizabeth’s kind attentions meant far more to Mary then they would have to a girl who was praised and attended to her entire life. Mary was thought of often as accomplished but rarely as pretty.

It was soon that Mary’s moralizing returned, and she scolded herself for being so very vain. She almost resolved to take off the fine garment if it was to encourage such a vile emotion, but then decided that it was unkind to spurn a gift from her sister. It would show her to be extremely ungrateful if she did not wear it! This obligation took precedent and she went to dinner feeling extremely handsome.

Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam found themselves enjoying the boisterous meal far more than they anticipated. Georgiana was comfortable around the family now and spoke with great animation to Mr. Bennet and Mary. Kitty spoke chiefly to her mother and her aunt. Charles and Jane had news to give and request of everyone and did not care if it was nearly yelled across the table. The Gardiner’s older two children ate with the adults, showing all the good manners that could be displayed in such a loud party, before being released to play with the other children upstairs. Everyone was joyful and pleased.

“There is nothing so wonderful as the meeting of family after separation, for one need not renew acquaintance in the way that must be done with a passing friend. Feelings are entered into immediately,” Mary observed.

“Very true, Mary.” Elizabeth agreed, though none of the others in the family much attended to the comment.

“One must believe that family is to be a great consolation to the lonely heart, for while friends must be maintained with particular attention, a stronger connection between sisters or children ought to be reignited again and again, despite circumstance or neglect on one part of another. One relies on familial gatherings to be their last relief, for blood must connect more strongly than affection or regard.”

Elizabeth graciously attended to Mary’s observations. After dinner, Elizabeth led the women to the drawing room. Mary did not, as the family expected, continue to the open pianoforte but sat beside Elizabeth. Elizabeth’s kindness had gone far enough to make Mary see her as a confidante, something Mary had desired but not had for the last months being the only daughter left at home. She was wise enough to know that her mother could scarcely be trusted with any of her personal thoughts.

“Elizabeth, I have been meeting with our cousin, Mr. Edward Philips, in all propriety and decency I assure you. Our aunt is very anxious for us to marry and for her son to settle in Meryton. He is to take on the business that our grandfather established. I have met him six times now, first we were introduced and walked, the family has dined twice with us, and I and our parents twice there, and I spent the evening there before our departure. He is a very serious young man; he has studied hard and is always improving his knowledge in the law with further reading. His mind is very developed. He is-” Mary paused and blushed.

“He is handsome? I hardly recall our cousin. I have not laid eyes upon him since he left for his clerkship.”

“I am worried that mamma will not approve or indeed, I fear that my station has requirements which I may not so easily disregard. I have only agreed to visit with Jane for three months and our mother is determined that Jane will find me a much better match. I do not know that I would prefer a man of so many pounds a year to a settled attorney. I do not wish to defy my parents and fall into the dreadful sin of disobedience.”

Elizabeth smiled warmly at her sister; she had never heard so many practical thoughts together from Mary in the course of her life. “You know that my achievement, as many would consider it, comes with a tremendous responsibility. When I accepted Mr. Darcy, I accepted the duty that a woman of a great house must have. I knew that I would be equal to the challenge, but then I have never been timid in the face of such things. Our mother only thinks of the carriages and pin money; it is for the wife to tend to the tenants, manage the house and the servants; and maintain the proper place in society.

I suppose that I could be indolent and shirk my duties, there is no true punishment for those who do beyond their conscience, but I would not be able to live in such a manner. There is a great weight that accompanies my status now. If you would endeavour to achieve it you must be prepared to bear it.”

To this Mary was pensive but she did not reply. They sat for some time in silence until Elizabeth proposed the solution.

“You must know your own mind. Observe carefully the life that Jane and myself have chosen, for you will see the difference there is when one’s family is not cloistered in a small town. You must find your own level. If you have promised, you should fulfill your obligation to visit Jane, but a man with a heart worth having will wait for you.”

“You do not think our mother will be displeased?”

Elizabeth shook her head with a smile, “You will be married and within an easy distance. Our mother will remember how much she loves society and blame me for transplanting to Derbyshire before you have been wed two months. But I speak only of possibilities, until our cousin speaks, both you and our mother cannot know the future for certain.”

Mary thanked Elizabeth and moved to the pianoforte as the men joined the party. Elizabeth heard the improvement of her playing with no small amount of pleasure. Mary had chosen her music more carefully and played with far more feeling than she had previously. The party listened with sincere enjoyment. Mary surrendered the instrument on her own accord to Georgiana and Kitty who played together. Elizabeth could see that Mary was contented by the advice she had received and hoped the best for her younger sister.

Father,

I will be travelling home Dec. 10 if nothing further delays me. Please inform me if the parsonage will be prepared to receive me or if I must impose further on my mother’s hospitality.

There should be no difficulty in attending the hunting party at P. Please forward my acceptance to Darcy with your own.

H. Fitzwilliam

Dear Father,

I am to leave Portsmouth in two days, we have been granted three months leave and I mean enjoy my time ashore. Please inform Darcy that I will attend the annual hunting party.  Far better to be at P. than any other house. What luck that I am home this year; he has far superior woods.

Ramsey

Chapter 25 – December 1814, Pemberley

The next few days were passed in similar calm and felicity. Everyone was determinedly polite and glad in their surroundings and company. Elizabeth was gratified to see that the visit had produced little strain on her husband and little discord among her relations. She knew that she must not expect it to continue forever unaided, so she sent her mother and two younger sisters to town to shop, her father and uncle to fish, and her husband and brother-in-law to ride. With everyone thusly dispatched, Elizabeth had tea brought for Jane and her aunt and prepared for a day of good company and conversation.

The three women were not at all alike in temperament, for though they all shared intelligence only Elizabeth had wit, and though they were all kind only Jane was truly good, and Mrs. Gardiner held the greatest share of wisdom. Yet, while Jane and Elizabeth had always been favourites, it had taken marriage to put them on equal footing and this had greatly increased their friendship. The Gardiners were often at Pemberley, yet not only for their good company. Mr. Gardiner had also collaborated with Darcy in some investments. Mrs. Gardiner now talked of moving to a better section of town, though it was more likely that Mr. Gardiner’s practicality would keep them within easy reach of his warehouses. It mattered little, the Gardiners’ manners and propriety would recommend them wherever they went.

Jane and Elizabeth were always visiting each other. Thirty miles was an easy distance, especially with their incomes, and it was crossed so many times that the horses seemed to know every turn and stone. The joy of coming to marriage, fortune, and motherhood together had strengthened their sisterly affection, which had already been thought very strong. They all were delighted to have this time to speak of little but share in intimacy.

“I can scarcely imagine mamma with another child. I can hardly remember when we were small, and all so close. The noise we must have made! Mamma can hardly stand the noise of your children, and they are so good tempered, to see her with a baby shall be a wonder,” said Elizabeth.

“I recall trying to teach you your letters, Elizabeth. We already in our own room and Mamma, with two or three nursemaids, always in the nursery with Mary, Kitty and Lydia. Lydia, once she could walk, always escaped into our room and she spilled your ink! It ruined our three frocks together and mamma could not have been more cross!” Jane laughed.

“She was always so high spirited,” Mrs. Gardiner added, “Lydia must have been five years when I visited for the first time. She ran right out front and said to me, ‘You must be my new aunt, I do not care for your hat’ and then she ran away before I could collect myself!”

Elizabeth and Jane laughed, taking solace in fond memories of childhood. Elizabeth added, “I remember being in the schoolroom, all lined up in our little desks. But when Lydia left the nursery, she was so unruly that our father often took Jane and me alone to the library. Poor Mary was left to teach Lydia her letters when mamma was unwell. I sometimes wonder Lydia learned at all, though she did take to other pursuits. She can trim a bonnet better than any of us.”

Jane, who could not bear to speak of anyone without an even share of compliments, offered quickly, “Lydia was quick to learn French.”

At this Mrs. Gardiner laughed, “That was only after I visited, do you remember? I had brought some novels from London and the most horrid ones were all in French. She could not resist!”

“Do you recall when she fell from a tree and dislocated her collar bone? Mamma could not rest until she was entirely comfortable. Lydia’s mouth was stuffed with sugar plums, and she was promised every pleasure if she would only lie still for a few days! You were so ashamed Jane, though it was not your fault, you bid her not climb,” said Elizabeth.

Jane coloured at the memory, “I ought to have retrieved her myself. She went into danger blindly.”

“It was not for you to go after her; she would accept no counsel,” Elizabeth sighed, the conversation had ceased to be amusing and bordered on regret. The women stopped for a moment.

“Mamma was always attentive to our sewing and numbers,” Jane said.

At this Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner could not readily reply, for they were both conscious that Mrs. Bennet’s efforts towards her children’s upbringing had added very little to the attractions of her daughters. Their father’s guidance and Jane and Elizabeth’s own character had produced two women who could recommend themselves to others, but the three younger girls had been indulged in their folly and often neglected.

Elizabeth could only say, “It is good that our children will never have our lot, for if we do have daughters, they will have brothers enough.”

On this happier line of thinking, they spoke for some hours in the way mothers do, comparing the temperaments and size of their children. The more experienced mother offering advice and the younger two, faithfully promising to follow it, even if they would hardly remember all when they were suddenly called upon to employ it. [PG1] After finishing their tea, they walked about the garden and the lake and wanted for nothing.

This tranquillity was broken by the impertinent observation of Mrs. Bennet during dinner that evening, “I am very much surprised that Kitty had not been attending the assembly balls this autumn. How is she to marry if she never leaves the house?”

Mr. Bennet, with more attentiveness than usual, said, “My dear, I am sure Lizzy could not think of her duty towards Kitty of any less importance than you have.”

“I think it unaccountable!” cried Mrs. Bennet, “It is very remiss not to have the girls out in society. Unless there are young men at Pemberley that we know nothing of, how is Kitty to catch a husband?”

“There is Miss de Bourgh to think of,” said Mr. Bennet, in a low voice. All three members of the Darcy family were indeed marking her passing with black ribbons.

“What should they care of Miss de Bourgh? She is nothing to us,” Mrs. Bennet went on, heedless of her husband, “for it was only a sick relation, who must have been expected to die at any time. It is a great inconvenience to us, after the disappointment in London. I did think Lizzy would exert herself for her sister’s benefit. Especially since she is not to partake in society this spring.”

There was a dead silence at the table. More than one member of the family was holding back their anger and Kitty was looking somewhat anxiously at Elizabeth. She was about to speak when Mr. Bennet observed with great pretended interest, “We have been blessed with such delightful weather.”

His daughters all looked upon their father with a mixture of shock and appreciation, and some amusement from Elizabeth especially, before agreeing heartily and making the most that they could of the subject. The roads, the lawns, and the skies were all canvassed with such alacrity that Mrs. Bennet was forced into a stern silence. It was not long, however, before Elizabeth must stand and lead the women into the drawing room. There Mrs. Bennet found a seat beside her second daughter and continued on the subject in earnest.

“I think it very strange that in three years with Kitty among you, there has not been a single offer. She is now one-and-twenty; nearly an old maid! And without Jane’s beauty. I cannot think it might be better for her to return home with us.”

Elizabeth wished her mother would speak more quietly but had no hope of inducing her to comply with a request of the sort, “Mamma, we do not share your concern. You shall not be able to bring her out during your confinement.”

“Have you no compassion for my nerves? You are aware that when your father dies the Collinses will have us out of the house before he is cold in his grave!”

“Kitty shall always have a home here with us as long as she wishes it,” said Elizabeth, “I would have my sisters all happily married, provided they can marry well. Circumstances have prevented us from going much into society but I hope you will not think I have forgotten either of my sisters. Kitty is much improved on the pianoforte and she has been practising her French.”

“What need has Kitty of accomplishments now? She is handsome enough if only you would exert yourself.”

“If I only wanted my sister married, I am sure I could manage it within a fortnight, but as I want her to find some measure of lasting happiness it may not be accomplished so quickly.”

“There is no better recipe for happiness than securing a man with a good income,” said Mrs. Bennet, with real earnestness, “There can be nothing amiss with a man of three or four thousand a year. You are making her far too choosy.”

Elizabeth calmly replied, “Kitty can afford to be particular. Please do not press her.”

Kitty heard all of this with confusion, but did not know how to speak for herself. She remained by Georgiana, who while feeling out of humour, was trying to talk her friend back into spirits. Mrs. Bennet left off the subject in a huff and went upstairs to find her grandchildren and draw comfort from the fact that both Jane and Elizabeth had produced healthy boys.

Elizabeth sat by Kitty for a moment, knowing that the gentlemen would join them soon. She said in a low voice, “I am sorry if you have felt the lack of society. If you do wish to return home, say the word and I will convey you myself.”

“No,” said Kitty, “I was disappointed to be sure that we could not attend the balls this fall, but I would much rather stay.”

“We will be visiting more after Christmas,” Elizabeth said.

“I have enjoyed the time here with Georgiana. Please do not think I am ungrateful,” said Kitty.

“No never! Think me selfish for keeping you with me so long when others might have a superior claim on your society before you imagine yourself ungrateful,” said Elizabeth.

Kitty only nodded and Elizabeth saw that her discontent could not be easily talked away. The men joined them soon after and with an encouraging smile, Elizabeth moved away. Kitty did not resent how the fall had been spent but she did feel her mother’s worries. Kitty felt that she had so very little to recommend her beyond passable playing, middling beauty, and almost no fortune, that it might be best to be often in the world as her mother suggested, even if it was only to increase the chances of meeting a man who would accept her on the small temptation of fifty pounds a year. She knew not what to say to her mother when the fears her mother expressed were those that Kitty felt in her own heart.

Chapter 26 – December 1814, Pemberley

Darcy had the great fortune, not only to be the owner of Pemberley, but to have inherited an estate that had gone three generations with general improvement and without debt. His father had greatly increased their holdings, through both his marriage to Lady Anne Fitzwilliam, who brought a respectable fortune, and by clever investment. The family had long been interested in new farming methods and breeding. His own mother, taken with his father’s passions, had bred a sought-after variety of hen known for its docile temperament. With such attentive owners, the production of the Darcy estate often exceeded what another, more indolent owner could have hoped to achieve.

The same could not be said for Longbourn. While it had largely escaped the notice of his daughters, Darcy had observed that the Bennet estate was poorly managed and largely in disrepair. That it made even two thousand a year was a wonder. Darcy, fastidious as he was towards his own monetary affairs, was determined to ignore the situation as he had never been asked for advice. Elizabeth, on becoming aware of this, had merely assented and added it to her estimation of her father. That they might have had more handsome fortunes or more advantages in their youth was something she chose not to dwell on.

Darcy was surprised, therefore, when his father-in-law requested that they visit Darcy’s mill the next day. Darcy had spent little time with the man that was not chiefly in silence. Mr. Bennet was a man of study and books, who more often than not retreated from the drawing room for the impressiveness of the Pemberley library. This visit, however, Mr. Bennet had already shown more of an inclination to mix in society which had been noticed. Darcy met him for an early breakfast and they rode for the primary mill which was closest to Pemberley. 

“I have no doubt you wonder at my request,” said Mr. Bennet, as they moved to a slow trot.

“I have not known you to be much invested in the affairs of my estate,” Darcy replied. He did not add, “or indeed your own.”

“I have been attempting several improvements to my estate and the state of the mill, I am led to understand, is quite dire. It is, I am assured, an affront to all the farmers and all the wheat in the country. As I do not wish for such odious general censure, I feel the need to exert myself. Would I be wrong in assuming that you have the most modern design?”

Darcy was surprised though his face did not show it, “You would not err,” he said, with some pride. He dismounted and the two men toured the mill, which his father had built, and he maintained with care. Darcy was able to show the differences and improvements to Mr. Bennet, who observed carefully and asked about which parts might be purchased and sent around by water.

 Mr. Bennet observed, as they left, “You have thought of me as one that does not care for the gifts that Providence has provided. I have known it to be true for some time.”

Darcy did not lie, “It had not escaped my notice.”

“Perhaps I have not been the most prudent of landlords, but I have always excused myself by the knowledge that I had not your fortunate position; I was a second son.”

“Was your father remiss in your education? I know as a first-born, and for so long alone, I was carefully educated, even more than my peers, but it would be folly-”

Mr. Bennet raised his hand, “The folly was my own. I was an ill-tempered youth and resisted every attempt to acquaint myself with management of the estate. My brother was the image of my father, and they were alike in interest and character. I resented the closeness and sought to separate myself from everything. I went to Oxford and became a fellow, devoted myself to teaching. I had no other interest, I did not even mind the prohibition against marriage. I wanted nothing but my books.

Upon my twenty-eighth year, a sudden illness struck Longbourn. You may have heard the tenants and the staff speak of it, for there were many losses. My father and brother died within an hour of each other. My mother survived but there was a heavy cost. She was after that weak and feeble of mind and died of a fever nearly two years after. The disease took a great toll on the other inhabitants as well. Tenants that I knew were lost and servants I had known all my life. I could not even return for two months, until they were certain the disease had passed. Almost everything our family had owned was burned to prevent infection.”

Darcy had never heard this account of the Bennet family history and wondered if even his wife knew of it. “I am sorry to hear of it,” he said.

“It was a difficult time. Men my father had long trusted were gone and there was more than one imprudent step in my early years that the estate suffered for. Not the least of which was my foolish marriage to my dear wife. I married soon after I inherited and without much attention to what might truly recommend a woman as a helpmeet and partner. But I need not tell you anything more on that matter.”

Darcy did not reply, but he did not need to.

“I admit that I let my wife convince me that furnishing the house anew, for it was nearly empty, was more important than improvements to the estate. When years pass under neglect the cost and effort becomes insurmountable- or that is what I told myself. When I realized what my negligence had caused, it was clear that I would not have a son. The desire of attending to the land seemed lost, for it would go to the son of a despised uncle, who in anger at his small inheritance had left the family entirely and even renounced his name and took his wife’s. Mr. Collins is his son, by a second woman.”

Darcy did not trust himself to speak. To him, the entail was no reason for neglect. It was an affront to his notion of familial pride. He could not however, resent his father-in-law for now attempting to repair what he had so long let fall into ruin. “Do you plan on many improvements?” he asked.

“As many as I can manage while still providing Kitty and Mary with some portion. Do not think I am unaware of their difficulties; there are not many men in the world who can marry without some thought of money. I have sold the next presentation of the Longbourn living and put the profits aside for my daughters. My wife must submit to a little economy as well. With her condition, one would have thought this was no great difficulty. She has an inexplicable love of society.”

“There we can agree,” said Darcy, “I am glad to hear that something can be managed for Kitty., though Elizabeth does not fear her marrying without it. Despite what your wife might think-”

Mr. Bennet interjected, “I know Elizabeth and Jane have done all they can, these things must take their course.”

They parted in greater mutual understanding. Darcy dressed quickly and entered his wife’s dressing room, “You must prepare to be surprised,” he told her, with a hint of amusement.

Elizabeth smiled, “If you mean to tell me about the change in my father, I have seen enough already! My mother has not spoken a word about Kitty’s prospects since last evening. There can be no other cause. I am in disbelief!”

“I would not have known him today. This condition of your mother’s seems to have produced a profound effect.”

“It is unfortunate that my younger sisters could not have benefitted from such a change earlier.”

Darcy could not disagree, but he also could not help but hope that the change would not be brief. It would be a great addition to his own domestic happiness to be able to visit with his wife’s family without observing her embarrassment, to say nothing of his own feelings. Happily, Mr. Bennet did continue to exert himself for at least the rest of the visit.

While it is true that a man as fixed as Mr. Bennet could never become entirely different, he did not turn back from his plan of improvement. He took more care to check his wife, console his children, and improve his station in life. It must be assumed that proximity to men of stronger character and the imminent arrival of another dependent was enough to complete an inclination that had been formed the day Lydia disappeared from Brighton. What was certain is that the rest of the time in Pemberley was spent in relative calm and was enjoyed by all.

Kitty,

Lord, I cannot say that I am disappointed to miss Christmas! By your description is was rather dull, not one ball. I am sure I will visit soon enough, either Lizzy or Jane, though for now I am quite busy. We married women always are! Colonel Warren often wonders how we quite fill up our days; he is so very amusing. I wish you could meet him. Does our father consent to a visit? It has been so long since I have seen you, half a year at least.

I have so many new friends since Wickham has changed regiments and we have so many parties and schemes. Warren is a monstrous good dancer, and while he can host nothing of his own, for he is not married, he has made a point to invite myself and Wickham to several parties that we never would attend on our own merit. It has been such fun!

I trust L. remains in good health. Write back soon.

Lydia

Dear Charlotte,

We are all well and have survived with our dignity intact after hosting my entire family. You can imagine the noise! Fortunately, I have been given ample opportunity to observe little Fitz with his younger cousins and he has become a much better playmate, especially with his little cousin Lavinia. (You must see her soon; she is the sweetest child I have ever beheld). It gives me better hope that he shall not dislike the arrival of his own brother or sister soon. I have always imagined myself with many children, as you know, and having Jane’s boys and my nephews and nieces all here was delightful.

I hope that the change in society at Rosings has been agreeable to you. Caroline, I know, is at the very least good company and I must imagine that her sister has joined her by now. When we visit next, you must be assured that the parsonage will remain my place of refuge. But tell me of little William and everything soon, your last letter was far too short.

Warm regards, & etc.

Elizabeth Darcy

Chapter 27, January 1815, Pemberley

“Elizabeth, I must confess an unforgivable error on my part. I hope you have prepared a good table for tomorrow.”

Elizabeth, now heavy with her child, was sitting comfortably on her couch, dressed in a thin muslin and near an open window despite the cold. She could hardly abide a fire she felt so overheated. The child would come soon, and she prayed for a speedy arrival, before the weather conspired to deprive her of her small relief and turn warm as well.

“Who is to come?”

“You know it is the time when traditionally my uncle and some other families gather for a week of shooting?”

“Yes, I recall. Is it our turn to host the party and you had quite forgotten?”

“I had thought it was my uncle’s year to host and was prepared to go there. Now I have a letter from him informing me of his time of arrival here. I do not understand my oversight and I am sorry for the late notice. Georgiana can play host; she knows them all from her youth.”

 Elizabeth laughed, for what else could she do. The house was always nearly prepared for guests and her family was now all gone home, save for Kitty who remained. Elizabeth had been called on to host with less time and less prospect of good company. The Darcys were an old family and had many connections to maintain with grace and fortitude. “Do not fear, dear husband, Pemberley will be ready to receive them. Have Georgiana meet me to make the menus, though I suppose we should prepare for your game to fill the table. I will let Mrs. Roux know to expect birds.”

“Pemberley has rarely had such a mistress.” 

At this Elizabeth smiled, “How dare you disparage the memory of your own forebears?”

“I have no claim on being able to judge the particular abilities of any mistress of Pemberley but yourself, for there is much more in the business than entertaining. I might consider you to have twice the skill even if you set half the table.”

“Such impertinence Mr. Darcy! I might be cross if it were not a compliment.”

“I dare not make you cross; at your current size you might be formidable.”

At this Elizabeth laughed, “Help my formidable-self gain my feet, dear husband, for I have not seen them in a fortnight at least.”

The men arrived as they had promised the next evening. The company was led by the Earl, who had brought for the first time since Elizabeth’s time at Pemberley his youngest son, Henry Fitzwilliam, recently returned from school and ordination to take over the family living. There was no family relationship between the Darcys and the other three men, but they were long bound by love of sport, wealth, and proximity, for the others were the three gentlemen of greatest prominence within an easy distance. They had each brought at least one son and none of their wives and daughters. Given the imbalance in gender, the party was made for no more than a week, so as not to strain the sensibilities of the hostess.

Georgiana greeted each guest with near familial ease; for she was always at her best advantage among her oldest acquaintances. Kitty, having often stayed at Pemberley, had met the families before and dined at most of their houses. Mr. Henry Fitzwilliam was new and greeted her warmly. Kitty only paid enough attention to remember his name and face. However, upon seeing the next man, Kitty briefly lost her composure and for a second stood dumbly. She thought at once that she had never seen such a fine man in all her life. Kitty regained herself quickly and looked to Georgiana.

“Captain Ramsey, may I introduce Miss Bennet, a younger sister of Mrs. Darcy.”

Kitty, having regained her wits, made the proper remarks. As Captain Ramsey was the last, he took it upon himself to offer an arm and bring her within. Kitty accepted with a small smile.

“I wonder that I have not met you before?” Kitty asked.

“I have not been free of my duties for some time, or I would have been more often here. My ship is being repaired at present or I would still be engaged. We skirmished with privateers and while we got the better of them there was significant damage to the main sail. You can imagine the difficulty of our passage home in such condition. Had I not such a skilled crew I might have been mired in the Atlantic still or worse.”

Kitty encouraged this story with ardent questioning and the pair walked so slowly in the telling, that soon they lost their hostess, who upon realizing she had no man to show his room doubled back to seek them out. As Georgiana approached, she was pleased to see her friend still engaged in earnest conversation.

“I have prepared the usual room, James,” said Georgiana. Kitty remembered herself and made excuses to dress for dinner.

“Who is this Miss Bennet, besides your sister?” Captain Ramsey asked Georgiana.

“Her father has an estate in Hertfordshire. She has stayed with us much of these last three years.”

“I have yet to even meet the new Mrs. Darcy. I have been far too long away from home, Georgie.”

“I cannot even recall our last meeting, could it have been at your father’s estate, perhaps four years ago?”

“I would have been home for a time then; my profession is not suited for maintaining connections I fear.”

“A strong friendship is renewed with haste; and I am certain you will be delighted with Mrs. Darcy.”

“How could I not if Darcy has chosen her; for he has the best taste in all other things,” Captain Ramsey smiled, and they parted. Georgiana, her primary duty discharged, made for Kitty’s apartment. She entered to find Kitty hardly dressed, her closet before her and several dresses laid upon the bed.

“Georgiana, you must tell me what to wear for dinner! Nothing seems proper. Have I made a fool of myself already? What can he think?” she said rapidly.

“I have never seen you so agitated, Kitty! He only asked to know who you were. It was a short moment you started; it was hardly noticed.”

“I was all at once the same silly girl at Meryton meeting a handsome officer. I am only glad Elizabeth was not there to see my disgrace.”

“You are too hard on yourself Kitty. I am certain your sister would only smile. Many a young woman has been startled by a handsome face. I cannot judge Captain Ramsey’s merit myself; I have known him since I was small.”

“I dared not ask but I was surprised to hear that he is in the navy. I thought the army was the place for second sons?”

“I am sure he would relate the story with pleasure, but his great-grandfather was an admiral and every generation has at least one son who has followed the same profession. While he is a second son, he is not a penniless one. He has an estate of his own from a late uncle.”

Georgiana noticed a sudden change in Kitty’s countenance. Her face grew dark, and she laid her favourite garment, the imitation of her presentation dress, back in its place.

“Should I even dare to hope? For there is nothing to recommend me beyond my connections and whatever accomplishments I have meanly acquired. It will be as it has always been. What is Catherine Bennet to any man?”

Georgiana had never considered this before; the season had been such a burden to her that she had scarcely considered the prospects of her friend. She nearly began to cry as she imagined that her admiration had come at Kitty’s expense. For what a comparison must men have made, with her fortune of thirty thousand pounds and Kitty with hardly more than a thousand. To move in the same circles and expect Kitty to be accepted, Georgiana suddenly realized the cruelty of it. Why had her brother not thought of it? Why had they not made some addition to her fortune?

“I never thought,” was all she could manage.

“A person such as yourself has other concerns,” Kitty was turned towards the window and Georgiana could not see her face, though she heard the bitterness of her tone.

“I cannot think that you have so little to recommend you. My brother chose Elizabeth and her station and yours were the same. A woman has more than her fortune, there is her appearance and her mind, her accomplishments. One must only be disappointed by your fortune because it does not reflect your merit. The right person will see your true worth.”

Kitty remained despondent and Georgiana was at a loss to console her. Knowing she could not help, she set off to find Elizabeth. Elizabeth was roused from a short repose and went to her sister..

“Dear Kitty, did you think that we would expose you to the world for derision? You are not so small as you imagine, Kitty. There is far greater worth in the connection to Pemberley than you calculate. There are such favours and livings that our estate can bestow, interest from Mr. Darcy and his uncle. Oh Kitty, but we should have made it more plain!”

“But I had not a single offer.”

“You had. Or I should say that you would have.”

At this Kitty could only stare at Elizabeth with wonder as she tried to imagine which of the many men whom she had met, in countless balls and dinners, seemed to stand out as one that favoured her. Now she remembered nights where she had been the favourite of one or another or at least seemed to be. The memories had faded when she came to the end of the effort without having made a match or prospect.

“There were two men that expressed interest enough to talk to Mr. Bingley. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley put both of them off. We may have been overly fastidious, but Kitty, we wish for you to be happy; to find a partner who will treat you with the kindness and attention that you are owed. It was not your poverty which resulted in what some might think a failure, but our fervent desire to see you happily settled. I am sorry we did not make it known to you. I thought you might seek the men out, despite our information. Forgive me for thinking that Lydia might still hold some influence over you.”

It had been some time since Kitty had reflected on her time with Lydia. While she had been initially no more than annoyed at the restrictions that Lydia’s elopement had placed on her independence, in time, and with the advice of her sisters, Kitty had learned to look upon the event with the same shame and horror as Elizabeth. The shame that Kitty felt when she thought that Elizabeth had not considered her past to be settled was soon out of her mind. That she had been esteemed, enough for conversations to occur, put her worries aside; the entirety of the season was cast in a more positive light. Yet, even this was not what Kitty would be fixed upon by the end of the evening, when she was out of company and able to reflect on this revelation alone. It would be the fact that Elizabeth cared enough for her to wish her happy and cared for. At home she had been an oft-forgotten daughter, dismissed by her father and ranked low by her mother. As she grew older, she had realized with sorrow that even Lydia had not truly held her in regard.

That Elizabeth loved her was not something she had ever really considered. She had assumed that their taking over her care was a duty or for the benefit of Georgiana. The lessons in music seemed to be for Georgiana’s pleasure, the presentation in court to accompany her friend. Every moment of unhappiness demanded review, to now be seen in the light of true regard and not merely convenience or duty. Kitty finally felt that she had a true home.

“I cannot thank you enough for your kindness, Lizzy,” she said at last.

“Forgive me for doubting your improvement Kitty, we have long considered you to be as dear to us both as Georgiana.”

Elizabeth took Kitty’s favourite gown and handed it to her. With a smile, she quitted the room. Kitty was for some time overcome by what she had learned but she became sensible enough to dress and go down for dinner. While she might not have noticed the difference herself, both Georgiana and Elizabeth noticed a marked change in countenance. Her eyes had regained some good humour, her manners were easier, and her smile more inviting. It was impossible, therefore, that a man or two did not consider her the most enchanting woman they had ever beheld.

Dear Elizabeth,

I apologize for the long delay between my letters. We are well. Lady Catherine seems to have fully recovered from her daughter’s unfortunate passing, though she has not put off the vestments of mourning. The new Mrs. de Bourgh has invited some friends to stay from London, along with her sister, and we have not been called upon to dine recently. I have little other news from Rosings Park, besides what my husband can tell me.

William grows and learns. Mr. Collins believes it best that we send him to school but I do not think I can bear to have him so far from home. I wish to supervise his education myself. With only the one, and he is so well behaved, I think I could very well manage. Lady Catherine, when she has leisure, advises my husband against it. My only solace is that if it is to happen, it will not be for some years.

We visited Hertfordshire for a fortnight when your family was gone to Pemberley. It was good to be with my family again. How I wish that I might have stayed longer! Write to me soon.

Regards & etc.

Charlotte

Chapter 28, January 1815, Newcastle

Wickham, sitting reading the paper as Lydia talked rapidly to her friend, could not help but catch snatches of her conversation with growing indignation.

“Warren said- but he says that it is best if- was he not so amusing yesterday at the Clarks – Warren told me so and I agreed – Lord! Well if that is his opinion I cannot disagree – La! He is so amusing. Do not you think?”

“What did he say?” Wickham suddenly asked, causing the two women to start and turn towards him.

“He said, well, it would not do much good to repeat. If you were not present; you cannot know why it was so funny,” said Lydia. She looked at her husband with thinly veiled contempt.

“I did accompany you.”

“And yet, I think we did not spend more than a moment together,” said Lydia.

“I did not either,” said Eleanor, the latest of Lydia’s most intimate friends, “you were sitting with the Colonel nearly the whole evening. I had a thousand things to tell you but no opportunity.”

Wickham bristled to hear it, though he had been at the party, he had been wholly unaware of his wife’s conduct. He had been flirting with a Miss Owens, or at least he thought that was her name. Miss Orlow? Miss Otway? He would overhear her name before he needed to recall it himself.

“Not the entire time,” Lydia protested, “you do not recall when we played cards?”

Eleanor laughed, “I do indeed! He kept trying to get you a better hand and cheated himself and all the rest of us to do it. I think Captain Morgan was quite cross.”

“It was only a good joke. Lord! These officers must always be so concerned with victory, one would think their profession depended on it,” Lydia laughed heartily at her own wit.

“Did you see Mrs. Otway?” Eleanor said, with a voice low in suspense, Wickham noted the name quickly, for he had been talking with her daughter, “I have never met such a vulgar old woman.”

“Vulgar indeed! I wonder she comes out in society at all, she is so ugly and cross. I suppose it must be for the benefit of her daughter.”

“She is pretty enough, the daughter,” Eleanor said.

Lydia stole a look at her husband, “There are some who might admire her, but I do not think her anything out of the ordinary way.”

Wickham did not speak and soon after quit the room and house, leaving the women to their idle gossip. He could not help but feeling the threat of Lydia’s preference. He knew very well of her proclivities; he had once taken advantage of them himself. As little as he valued his wife or her affection, he did not wish to be supplanted entirely and if there was more between his wife and his superior, he was determined to put a stop to it. He had never noticed, in all of Lydia’s flirtations, a decided favourite until recently. This was not the first time that he had noted how very often Colonel Warren featured in Lydia’s conversation.

He found Colonel Warren alone at his home and after the barest greeting and commentary on the weather, Wickham began, “What do you mean by this gallantry towards my wife?”

“Gallantry? You accuse me of gallantry?” Colonel Warren looked amused, “What do you mean by your manner towards Miss Otway?”

“I will not justify myself to you. How else should I describe your behaviour towards Lydia?”

“I would call it civility, perhaps even kindness, your wife seems often neglected.”

Wickham said, “That I do not choose to remain always by my wife in public does not give you leave to sport with her honour.”

Colonel Warren said seriously, “Call me out if you wish Captain Wickham, but you have no real motive for it and I can assure you that you will lose. Mrs. Wickham would make a very pretty young widow. There are plenty of men, I am sure, who would be delighted to have her husband out of the way.”

Wickham, who always wished to avoid any true test of his mettle if it was possible, said only, “I have not come here to challenge you, but to suggest that you consider your conduct of late. There is already talk.”

“Talk is of little concern to me, if Mrs. Wickham is not distressed.”

“You need not think of Mrs. Wickham’s feelings.”

“Why should I not? It is clear enough that no one else does.”

Wickham laughed, “Do you think yourself some kind of champion? Lydia is hardly worth saving.”

“I refuse to believe that anyone is beyond saving, except perhaps a man who could so abominably neglect such a charming creature. Regrettably, it is not in my power to do anything more than enjoy her stimulating company.”

“Stimulating?” Wickham scoffed, “I can have no apprehensions now, you cannot be describing my wife.”

“No? Then there can be nothing else for you to say. Good day Captain.”

Wickham left and spent his walk home wishing that he could have traded Lydia to anyone for another chance at freedom. He still regretted being tied to her irrevocably, begging from crumbs from her rich relations, instead of being able to try for another heiress. He knew well enough that he remained handsome and charming, it was something he tested with regularity, but there was nothing he could do while he remained yoked to Lydia. They would never rise in the world more than Darcy allowed. If only he had not found them in London, if only he had been content to take Lydia home instead of forcing the marriage. Wickham allowed no blame to fall on himself for his current state of poverty, everyone else must be the cause. Had Darcy only been more liberal or the cards more favourable or a captain’s pay more reasonable he would be wealthy and happy.

He could not understand Colonel Warren at all. Lydia had nothing at all to recommend her, besides youthful beauty and lively manners. It seemed impossible that the man actually cared about her feelings. No, he could only be inflating his vanity by seeking the attentions of a married woman. Wickham could understand that motive easily; it was what he did himself. He dared not go beyond flirtation with any of the ladies in the regiment, but there was nothing wrong with basking in their attention. Let Warren and Lydia have their fun, she would have a new object of interest soon enough.

Chapter 29, January 1815, Pemberley

Kitty had long endured the great misfortune of having little to distinguish her among her sisters. While she was by no means deficient in any aspect, she was not particularly adept either. She was not as pretty or as good as Jane; as witty or intelligent as Elizabeth; as accomplished as Mary; or as spirited as Lydia. The only event in her childhood which set her apart from her sisters in any way was a prolonged illness when she was nearly four years old. She had been kept in bed for almost three months and caused a good deal of nervousness in her mother. Thereafter, Mrs. Bennet had always attended her health with some concern, for she grew up slighter than her sisters, but no further danger had arisen.

It was no small wonder then, having been so often overlooked, that Kitty did not recognize that she may have gained the attention of two of the young men in the hunting party. Kitty had long expected to be ignored and the thought hardly entered her head that she might be singled out for attention. She was accustomed to being the second, third, or fourth choice for anybody. Though the recent revelation that she was in fact, desired and loved by those belonging to Pemberley, had given her great pleasure, it would be some time before it worked more substantially on her character.

The gentlemen in question, Mr. Henry Fitzwilliam and Captain James Ramsey, were quite different in nearly every respect. The son of an Earl, Mr. Fitzwilliam had more refined manners, a more noble mien, and, for Kitty was not insensible to fashion, clothes of a finer cut and style. He was tall, like his cousins, and though at ease among a group of friends, shared a reserved temperament with his kin as well. Elizabeth was the first to notice his interest, by his watching Kitty most intently as she played. He made an effort afterwards to speak to her and was repaid for his efforts.

Captain Ramsey was more obviously and generally pleasing. He was seated across from Kitty for dinner and spoke to almost no one else, except to argue that he had in fact shot the largest bird of the day and hit it true besides. The men were longer than usual in their conversation together, but when they came to the drawing room, he seated himself by her and Georgiana directly and made easy conversation until the two young women were requested to play. The music was lovely and for two or three songs attended to, but conversation could not be long delayed amongst such old friends and soon the cheerful noise began again.

“Do you not think Darcy, that it is more pleasant a gathering when the women are present?” Captain Ramsey conjectured. He referred to some years prior, when all the women of the house had arranged to be out of the county for the whole of the visit.

“Mrs. Darcy is never one to flee in the face of company, even one so uneven as this.”

“Certainly not, there is always so much to observe. You hardly know a man’s true character until you see him in the company of such dear friends,” said she.

“Do you think yourself a good judge of character Mrs. Darcy?” said Ramsey.

At this Elizabeth could only laugh, “I cannot trust myself; I must discuss my revelations with a few others to be sure of their veracity. One must leave the opportunity for a second impression, for so often the first does not reveal enough for true discernment.”

“How long might one need to study a person before deciding upon their true nature?” the Captain asked.

Elizabeth gave her husband, who was content to observe, an amused glance as she replied, “I think, upon great reflection, that in order to conduct a full study of any character, you must not simply observe. You must investigate further, thoroughly question their nearest relations, perhaps even interview the housekeeper under some pretension. A person can hide their character in company but never at home.”

“You speak with enough confidence that I must believe you. But I do not imagine that everyone would have the ability or means to do such a thorough investigation. How does one find time to interview a housekeeper?” said Ramsey.

“It is indeed a rare thing that someone comes to learn another so completely: an occurrence of great fortune,” said she.

“I have had the misfortune to discover another method Mrs. Darcy, though I would hope you spared from ever being able to make use of it. I have found that in close company on a ship, and with the threat of never returning home, I have learned more about the nature of men than I ever wished to.”

“There is a determined kinship amongst those who have endured such trials together, I must imagine,” said she.

“Yes, and it has made the long separation from home endurable. However, I do not believe that even such a strong friendship can truly replace the felicity of a settled home and family.” Both Darcys attended to this comment for another meaning, and thought that perhaps he was hinting at a regard for Kitty.

“I have encountered difficulty in this area myself,” Mr. Henry Fitzwilliam interjected, having been sitting by himself a short distance away and listening to the repartee, “I have found my own profession to be severely limited in its ability to discern any truth in a man’s heart. For I see so many only on Sunday and they are in their choicest moods and dress. It is only reports that reach me from their suffering wives and hungry children that can, on a Monday, impugn the high opinion I reached the day prior.”

“This is why a rector must live among his flock,” said Captain Ramsey.

“That has been my motive in choosing to live in the parsonage. Yet, I cannot overcome my limitations, when I go to visit the sick, I cannot but pity them and add nothing to my estimation of their character. When I am about the village, every person before me still tries to appear no different than they do in church. But perhaps it is that I am still new. I have only taken orders a few months ago.”

“This must be the root of it,” said Elizabeth, “I cannot imagine that in twelve years you will not have a true estimation of every soul in the parish and judicious ideas for their improvement.”

“I can only hope, or else perhaps I could beg use of your ship?”

Captain Ramsey laughed, “I could not think of a use more in the interest of the kingdom.” 

Having never met either of the young men prior, Elizabeth was happy to find them both intelligent and sensible. She remained close as the girls ceased to play and re-joined the conversation. Captain Ramsey was happy to continue in his description of his service and both Elizabeth and Kitty were delighted by his descriptions. He had the skill of telling a story with spirit, and the wisdom to leave out sections- Elizabeth noticed only by a slight change in his tone- that would have been distressing to his listeners. There was not a young man in the room who might not have wanted to be a captain themselves for this hour, when they could see how his stories could captivate every lady in the room and half the men besides. But at length his anecdotes came to their end and judiciously, the women retired early to leave the men to their own company.

The next few days continued in this manner. Elizabeth was anxious to talk to both of her sisters; she had seen a great deal to be admired in the young men. There was one advantage she saw above all for Georgiana, she was already familiar with each, and they lived within proximity of Pemberley. This must be seen as a great good to Georgiana’s shy nature. For Kitty, she was sanguine in her ability to attract one of them. Greater connection with Pemberley would surely be seen in a positive light by their families, and the two who had shown some interest in Kitty were both comfortably endowed already and might therefore have less reason to need a rich wife.

“Is there a young man Georgiana, whom you might hold in particular esteem?” Elizabeth began.

“You cannot be serious Elizabeth; I have known them all from infancy. Our families have been long connected.”

“How better to judge a man’s suitability but to have such a long acquaintance?”

“I have hardly thought,” Georgiana said. She sat pensively for a moment.

“This is the change when a girl comes ‘out’. She must reconsider those within her circle who will of course notice that she is no longer the girl they knew but a woman. I do not think that your brother would see it as any great evil if you were to find your husband among dear friends.”

Georgiana took this advice to heart, and Elizabeth, seeing that she had at least given her sentiments room to grow, left Georgiana to her own thoughts. Elizabeth moved on to Kitty.

“Dear Kitty, I think you have attracted some attention in the party.”

Kitty blushed and made no reply.

“I am not surprised; you were the very picture of a lady, and both you and Georgiana played so well.”

“It was more interesting to hear from Captain Ramsey. What a life he has lived!”

“He has indeed, though it is a profession with no lack of danger. Let me only give a hint to not forget Mr. Fitzwilliam, he seems a very agreeable young man to me.”

Elizabeth was of an entirely different character than her mother, who would by now be comparing the men’s fortunes and declaring to all that she expected a most profitable match by the end of the week, and on this higher sense of propriety, Elizabeth felt content that she had said enough. She had it within her power to ensure the frequent coming together of any interested couple, with dinners or parties, and that would be enough. She had spoken of the men with her husband and he had the highest opinion of both their characters.

Kitty held the hope of an attachment forming dearly, for she saw in Captain Ramsey the exact sort of life she wished to have. She envied his adventures, frightening as she imagined them, and she had been astute enough to see in his conversation a regard for the feelings of the listeners around him. Stories of folly were not reduced to ridicule; he left their principal characters with their honour restored and stories of danger were tempered with assurances of good outcomes. She reminded herself not to dismiss Mr. Henry Fitzwilliam because he was more quiet. His reserved manner was a stark contrast to his rival though he had spoken with some animation to herself. His attentions to her were now noted with greater clarity and while he was not the first in her thoughts, he was by no means forgotten.

When the men returned from their sport that day and they were all seated for dinner, Kitty was careful to attend to both and not seem preferential. She was uncertain of true regard and did not wish to spoil her chances. Elizabeth had planned an evening of cards and made up the tables to both men’s advantage, for Kitty was between them. Whist was the game, but she was the interest, and the progress of the game was slow.

“Do you think you will soon be given orders?” Kitty inquired to Captain Ramsey.

“We have the fortune of not being at war, so my chances are better to stay home. It was spoken of being several months before the repairs are complete. In more dire times, I might be assigned another post but there is no such a need.”

“It must be a comfort to be home after so long a time away.”

“My mother has been delighted to have me here, I can assure you. She is anxious to have me quit the navy and take up my life on land. I am loath to do it; I was born for the sea.”

“That sounds so very romantic.”

Captain Ramsey smiled at her, “It is in many ways a difficult life, long journeys have poor food and long times of boredom. There is the danger of diseases and storms; and of course, the battles bring further chance of injury or even demise. I cannot tell my parents half of what I have done, their sensibilities could not withstand it. My uncle was lost at sea long ago and they have the same fear for me. I had hoped that they would understand with my quick succession through the ranks, something of my skill and passion, but it is difficult to be waiting for your son to return.”

“Would you never wish to settle?”

“I might wish to marry, if I could find a woman who would accept a life abroad, so far from her family and every comfort she had known. I cannot imagine such a woman. Perhaps if I were to become an admiral, I might find a home post.”

Kitty blushed and, wondering if she might be too forward, said in a low voice, “I have long wished to visit the sea. I think it must be beautiful.” Kitty was not brave enough to venture further on the topic, and all interesting conversation was finished for the evening.

Dear Miss Bennet,

Dear Mary,

Dearest Mary,

I have found Meryton rather blank without your presence and I cannot-

Dearest Mary,

I cannot wait for your return to Hertfordshire, you must end this separation and allow me to express my great admiration and regard-

Dearest Mary,

I have thought of no one but you since your departure from Longbourn. I am writing this letter in hopes that you-

(unsent)

Chapter 29 – February 1815, Longbourn

Mr. Bennet had considered himself very happy more than once in his life. His marriage to Mrs. Bennet had once been considered the most blissful day of his life, but his merriment was soon dashed by his knowledge of her mind and temper. He had rejoiced at the birth of his first child Jane, but that joy, and the delight that followed with each successive child had been tarnished by the eventual realization that none would inherit. His pleasure at Elizabeth finding a husband she truly admired had never been pure, for his approval of the match led inevitably to the loss of his favourite daughter. Indeed, when he would reflect on this day years later, for Mr. Bennet was to live many years more, the one moment of unblemished felicity would be the birth of his son.

Mrs. Bennet, healthy as she was, had Mrs. Philips and Edward visiting when labour began. Edward left at once, sending word for Mrs. Reid by the fastest horse. Mrs. Philips attended Mrs. Bennet to her room, and they began to prepare. Mr. Bennet waited anxiously downstairs as he had done so many years ago. Mrs. Reid promptly arrived and commanded the house like a general. Mr. Bennet knew his duty; to wait and pray that his wife and the child survived.

It was not long before Mrs. Reid called Mr. Bennet upstairs. The baby was in Mrs. Bennet’s arms. She was looking weary but more pleased than he ever remembered. The child was offered to him and he held the baby with amazement.

“I knew it all along Mr. Bennet!” said she.

“A boy?”

“We have a son, and such a healthy boy! Why look at his plump cheeks! He is a strong one I can see it plain. And we must name him for you, for what could be more proper.”

“No, I think it right that we name him for my father.”

“Lewis? Very well then, he shall be young Master Lewis Bennet. Bring me my desk! I must write my sister Mrs. Gardiner and tell her the news! And Elizabeth and Jane too.”

“My dear, you must not overtax yourself. You are meant to be at leisure.”

“Mrs. Philips will write them then, but you know that Jane and Lizzy will want to be told.”

“Be assured my dear, I will write to them presently.”

“Oh, but you hate to write, I am certain you will not do it well. Allow my sister to take my dictation!”

Mr. Bennet would not be moved, and with the aid of Mrs. Reid, reminded his wife that she was supposed to rest. He soon sat himself at his desk and took out his paper. He had waited more than thirty years to write this very news, to declare the heir of Longbourn, and yet he found he could not put his pen to paper. His joy was too immense. Command of words, his rightful domain, had failed him. He knew not how to appreciate properly the miracle of his son’s birth. In the autumn of his life, beyond any expectation on the part of his wife, they had been granted such a gift. His redemption was within his grasp, he would not fail this child.

Mr. Bennet wrote at last, only a few lines to Mr. Gardiner, Jane, and Elizabeth, of their nephew and brother’s arrival. Mrs. Philips spread the news of the birth in town, when she was not attending her sister, so quickly that long before the safety of the christening, every soul from Longbourn to London might have some idea of young Lewis’s birth. Lady Lucas was early to visit and see for herself the boy’s health. Only upon her own observances did she decide to write her daughter and lay out the unhappy news. The anticipated return of her daughter must now be overthrown forever. Mr. Collins would never inherit.

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