Chapter 1

G iven how happy he was since he was no longer tied to Fanny and now married to the love of his life, Bennet did everything he was able to do to enhance his family's future security. Additionally, knowing regardless of whether his Cilla bore him a son Longbourn was safe, allowed both him and his beloved wife to relax and not feel the pressure of having to have a son.

Cilla had brought a dowry of five and thirty thousand pounds to the marriage, which Bennet had insisted would remain under her control for her own, and their future daughters', security. The money had been turned over to Edward Gardiner who produced ten percent or more per annum in returns. Her pin money was paid out to her, and the rest was reinvested with Gardiner. In addition, everything over two thousand pounds of income from Longbourn was sent to be invested as well.

Even had they not been certain Longbourn was safe, they would at some point have had an estate. As his only child, Sir Phineas Morris's last will and testament, except for an amount bequeathed to each of his current and future grandchildren, left all of his worldly goods, including his estate and the house in London, to his daughter. Like he had with her dowry, Bennet had the settlement state when she inherited, the estate and the rest of her father's holdings would remain Priscilla's property.

When his late wife passed away, her dowry of five thousand pounds became Jane's. Cilla and Bennet, with Sir Phineas's concurrence, decided as soon as Lizzy had a dowry in the same amount as Jane's, all money for dowries would be split evenly.

Even though Cilla fed Lizzy herself and did not seek the services of a wetnurse, she was once again with child by February 1791. Compared to when she carried Lizzy, Cilla began to show signs of increasing earlier, and as she increased, her belly was noticeably much larger. Mrs. Brown and Mr. Jones, the new local physician and apothecary in one, both opined Mrs. Bennet was carrying twins.

When Jane, who was three, heard she would have two more siblings, she had been as excited as a toddler her age could be. To her mind, it was a pity her new siblings would take a long time before they could play. Lizzy was only beginning to say some words and had recently taken her first steps, but she still could not join in and play with Jane. Jane was yet to comprehend why before she turned five months old, Lizzy's eyes had become green like her mama's and no longer blue like her own.

All the while hiding his concern from his children, Bennet was beside himself with worry. Even had his first wife not passed away shortly after Jane entered the world, he was aware childbirth was a danger to mother and babe at the best of times. That was when there was only one child to be born! If the midwife and Jones had the right of it, his Cilla would have to birth two babes. He tried to keep his concerns from his wife and mother but with little success.

On the second Tuesday in August 1791, with Bennet wearing out the carpet in his library, two hours after midnight, first a son and then almost a half hour later a daughter entered the world.

He had been petrified he was going to lose another wife, this time, one he loved beyond all reason, as Cilla had fainted away after the girl had been delivered. No matter how many times Jones and Mrs. Brown assured him the occurrence was common after a particularly arduous birthing process, until he knew his wife would be well, Bennet had refused to see the twins. He would only meet them when Cilla was able to do so as well.

Thanks to the foreknowledge they would more than likely have twins, a wetnurse had been employed. Like with Jane, it was the wife of a tenant who would be weaning her own daughter soon enough. Hence, while Cilla was still unconscious, the as yet unnamed babes were able to take sustenance.

Much to Bennet's relief, his Cilla came back to him a little more than a day after delivering their babes. He had been sleeping in a chair next to his wife, holding her hand. Just after six o'clock the morning after she had slipped into unconsciousness, Bennet was brought fully awake at his hand being squeezed.

"Our babe?" Priscilla croaked.

"Babes, a son and a daughter. They are in the adjoining room with Mrs. Potter, and their nursemaid," a joyful Bennet responded. He gingerly assisted his wife to sit up against her pillows and then poured her a glass of water. He held the glass and allowed a little at a time to drip into her mouth.

"When they wake, will you have them brought here?" Priscilla questioned with a stronger voice thanks to drinking. "What names did you choose? How do they look. Twins, oh my."

"We will see them together for the first time," Bennet informed his wife. The sounds of mewling babes caught their attention.

"Bring one of them to me so I can feed her or him myself," Priscilla requested.

Bennet returned holding their squirming son in his arms. The mite was soon at his mother's breast, drinking hungrily. After a healthy belch, he was returned to the nursemaid to change him. His satiated sister was brought to her mother.

While their son had a tuft of light brown hair like his father, the daughter had the same colour hair as her mother, except hers seemed to be straighter. At Cilla's insistence, cradles were placed next to her bed for the twins. After a little discussion, the twins' parents decided to name their son Henry Phineas, after his two grandfathers, and the daughter Mary Elizabeth after her grandmothers.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

The four Bennet children grew and thrived going from strength to strength. Life was very pleasant for the family. They visited Netherfield Park often, and Sir Phineas called on Longbourn just as much. He revelled in his grandchildren, of which Jane was considered one regardless of who her mother was. Between Phineas and Beth Bennet, the children had a surfeit of love from grandparents.

When Jane turned five in January 1793, a governess, Mrs. Jones the widowed sister-in-law of Mr. Jones, was employed. Unfortunately, Jones's brother had been a gamester so when he died in a riding accident, he left his widow destitute with nothing but debts of honour. The only positive was those who wanted to collect debts left with nothing as she had no funds. Thankfully, her brother-in-law, who was appalled at his brother's profligacy, had taken her in. Although he had been willing to support her without her working, she had been determined to pay her way.

Thus, when word was spread the Bennets were seeking a governess, Mrs. Anita Jones had applied. She had an impressive education and list of accomplishments so she had been employed without delay.

With the fact Lizzy would not be three until March, she had insisted in joining the classes with her big sister, Janey. No one had deterred her and she seemed to soak up the information being taught even if she did not yet comprehend the meaning of much of what Jane was able to understand.

There was a great disaster in November 1793, when Sir Phineas had been at Morris House in London on Cavendish Square. He was taken home to God when he had been struck with a putrid fever.

The butler had sent an express to the master's daughter and son-in-law expressing the urgency they come to Town. Cilla and Bennet had arrived hours before her father went to his final reward. The best London doctors had not been able to do anything to save the baronet. At least his much loved daughter was at his side when he passed away, even if he had not seen his beloved Beth and been able to say his goodbyes to her.

Beth had remained with the children at Longbourn. They were not family; however, it had been an extremely bitter pill for Beth to swallow. The two grandparents had spent many hours in the company of the other and as such had become very close. So much so, they had gradually fallen in love, and Phineas had proposed and being accepted by Beth just before his business trip to London. They were to share the news when he returned from Town. Beth was grateful no one else would know of her pain.

The will was read in the offices of Rumpole and Crawley a few days after the mortal remains of Sir Phineas had been consigned to the earth next to his late wife, Mary. Having been in business since not long after the Wars of the Roses, it was one of the oldest groups of solicitors in London.

There were no surprises. Each grandchild was bequeathed a significant amount, there were some bequests to faithful retainers, and the vast bulk went to his daughter, as had been known beforehand it would. As neither she nor her husband were interested in London society, the house in Town would be offered for lease, and she decided that Frank Philips would be her agent in Meryton to offer Netherfield Park to those who desired to lease it. None of her properties would be available for sale.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

Not long after the end of her deep mourning period for her father, Cilla felt the quickening, confirming her suspicion she was with child, in the middle of March 1794. On the fifteenth day of September, Thomas James Bennet joined the family. He would be called Tommy by his friends and family.

Tommy had dark wavy hair like his mother, but based on his size at birth, his parents surmised he would have his father's stature. As happy as she was to have a fifth child, Cilla was sad that her father would never meet Tommy. Being out of mourning by the time the newest Bennet was born did not mitigate the sadness she still felt regarding her father's death. Not made for sadness, Cilla did what she needed to banish the maudlin thoughts from her consciousness.

One thing she could not fathom was why Mother seemed to have a tear in her eye whenever her late father was mentioned. Cilla knew they had been close friends, but that did not explain the level of sadness Mother still displayed as the anniversary of Papa's passing approached. At least Jane and Lizzy had ceased asking where Grandpapa was. When they had, it pained Cilla, but she did not miss the same pain in her mother-in-law.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

In November of 1796 Beth Bennet passed away from a broken heart. She had shared the truth of her betrothal with the late Sir Phineas with Cilla only a few days before her death.

She had not been afraid to be called home. Beth Bennet knew Cilla and Thomas were the best of parents and would take good care of her grandbabies. Also, she was as sure as could be that when it was her time, she would see Phineas again.

Cilla of course told her husband. They finally understood why their mother had been in a melancholic state when she was not busy with a task or with her grandchildren. She was missed by all of the Bennets, except for Tommy who was too young to know his grandmama.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

Rather than making for Rosings Park in time for Easter for the group of friends and family, as they had planned to be in 1795, they were all at Pemberley for Anne Darcy's impending lying in. There were none of the adults who did not worry for Anne.

Although she had been aware of the risks to herself, Lady Anne Darcy had convinced her husband to try one more time to provide William with a sibling. Towards the end of August 1794, much to her delight, Anne had felt the quickening confirming she was in the family way again.

He had tried to hide it, but Robert Darcy had railed against himself for allowing Anne to talk him into endangering her life. He had been by her side all through her increasing making sure she never exerted herself.

Her sisters Elaine and Catherine were present from mid-February on. Edith Carrington and Rose Rhys-Davies had joined those at Pemberley in the final week of that month.

With her sisters and friends present to assist her, Lady Anne had entered her lying in on the final day of February 1795. She had laboured for two days, sapping her remaining strength from her body as she battled to bring her child into the world. Had his sisters-in-law and Anne's friends not given him hourly updates, Darcy would have gone mad, regardless of his brother-in-law's and friends' presence. The longer his wife laboured, the more Robert Darcy feared for her life. He had thought her labours with William were long; they had been only twelve hours!

A little after ten o'clock on the second day of March, the squalling of a babe was heard by those close to the birthing chamber at Pemberley. She was named Georgiana Camile for her father's late sister, who had passed as a young girl. The middle name was the same as Anne's. As her first name contained his beloved wife's name, and they decided to call her Anna which was even closer to his Anne's name, Robert Darcy had not argued about his wife's choice.

What concerned Darcy, the doctors, the midwife, and the ladies who had been with Lady Anne through her travails was that although there had been minimal bleeding after the fact, Anne was pallid, and as the days passed after the birth, rather than recover, she was getting weaker.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

Close to the end of March, Lady Anne Darcy had a series of conversations with her family members starting with William, who was twelve.

William approached his mother's bed with trepidation, even at his young age he could tell that Mother was not well, her skin was almost translucent. He stopped a few feet from the bedside as if his proximity would somehow add to his mother's ills.

"William, come close, my voice is not very strong and I want you to hear me," his mother beckoned him.

"Mother is your being sick Georgiana's fault? Would you still be well if she had not come?" William asked gravely.

"No my boy, please swear you will never blame Anna if I do not recover and God calls me home to His side. It was my choice to give you a sister. Your sister is as innocent in what is ailing me as you or your father are." Lady Anne paused to take some deep breaths. "William, I need your help. Also Son, I know you are uncomfortable with those you do not know and you have adopted some of your Aunt's claims about the need for the preservation of the distinction of rank nonsense, I need you to be more like your cousins in the way you relate to others, especially those you think beneath you."

"Anything for you, Mother," William averred emphatically.

"If the worst happens, your father may retreat into himself. I need you to make sure that does not occur." She held up her hand part way. "I ask a lot of you, but you are strong in body and character. Also I need you to watch out for Anna. Love her, protect her, and teach her. Remember what I said, she is blameless. Can you do this for me if I am no longer here to do it myself?"

By now William was crying. He had heard the adults speak of it being hopeless and although Mother was trying to blunt the pain and intimating it was not as hopeless as others might believe—he was certain the others were correct. He dried his eyes and pulled his, tall for his age, body erect. "I will do all you ask of me, Mother. I love you."

"As I will always love you even if I am no longer here. Allow me an hour to rest and then please send your Aunt Catherine in," Lady Anne requested. William kissed his mother's cheek and trying to keep his composure, left her chambers.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

"Anne, you need to rest so you will recover, not talk to everyone," Lady Catherine commanded when she sat at her sister's bedside. "I will not allow you to leave us!" As she spoke, the normally iron willed woman who never cried, shed some tears for the impending loss of her sister.

"If only it was as simple as you ordering me to recover. If I could, I would obey you without hesitation." Anne squeezed Catherine's hand causing her older sister to look at her with her moist eyes. "Cat, I need you to stop with your demands of engaging William to Anne." Her sister was about to object but Anne gave her a stern look which froze the words in her throat. "I am not unaware your aim is to make sure Anne is protected from fortune hunters and those who would take advantage of her if you are no longer here…" Anne took a series of deep br eaths. "…yes, I know you give the impression you want Anne married so you will be left alone at Rosings Park. I know the real you Sister, and what you do you do to protect Annie. In addition, even though your marriage to Lewis was arranged, all of the rest of us have made love matches, and whether you agree or not, it is what we want for William."

"But how will Anne be protected if not in marriage?" Catherine allowed her mask to slip and showed her true concern.

"There are many things which can be done. Ask Reggie, he is a client of Rumpole and Crawley like my Robert and the rest of our friends are. He can have a contract written which would give a man who entraps her nothing and even if she chooses to marry, and who knows if my niece will ever be healthy enough to do so, her property and wealth would be protected. You know, without marrying her when Richard reaches his majority, Annie can be made his ward and then he would be able to protect her.

"Lastly, I must tell you that I love you Sister. When I am gone, Robert, William, and Anna will need your strength, but when they ask for it. You do have a tendency to take over." Anne gave a ghost of a smile, as did her sister knowing her little sister had the right of it."

"I will do what I can, and I promise I will not try and intimate you agreed William should marry Anne. I will tell Elaine the same regarding Andrew." Lady Catherine bent over and pulled her extremely frail sister into a hug. "I love you Anne."

"Send Robert in please Cat," Anne requested.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

Darcy sat next to his wife and took her hand while she slept. After about two hours she woke up, not looking any better than she had before she rested. "You need to rest, Anne," Darcy worried .

"You and I both know my eternal rest is not far off." Anne shook her head as her husband was about to vehemently disagree. "My love, we need to look at what is, not the way we desire things were."

Darcy's face fell. He knew his Anne spoke the truth. "I will listen."

"Please tell me you do not blame Anna and you will not withdraw from her and William when I am gone. I know it is what you will want to do, but even if I am not in the mortal world, you have two pieces of me with you and they will need you more than anything.

"Robert you have never listened to me about young George Wickham, but you must hear me now. We all see the boy is jealous of William, manipulative, can be downright cruel, and very seldom, if ever, tells the truth. Just because his mother passed two years ago is not a reason to ignore what is painfully obvious to all of us. Remember who is your son and who is not."

At first Darcy bristled that the subject was George Wickham, but he caught himself. Had he not heard the same from his brother and friends? Anne had tried to tell him this many times and he had been obstinate, and now, as she lay dying, she raised the issue again. Darcy finally owned it was more than likely he was wrong, not everyone else. "I will review everything regarding George and I vow to be open to hear what you and everyone else has told me."

Anne gave a wan, half smile. "Robert, I need you to swear to me you will not stop living after I am gone. The children will need you more than ever and my little Anna will never know me, so it is up to you to keep me alive for her. I will not ask you to forgo the year of mourning, but when it is past, then you need to go back into society. I am not demanding a promise you will marry again, but I will ask you to be open to it. Remember the heart has unlimited capacity to love. "

Anne had spent all of her energy and once she received her husband's vow, she had some much needed rest.

~~~~~~~/~~~~~~~

Easter in 1795, should have been a time of celebrating the resurrection of the Son, but instead it was a time for mourning and of consoling Robert and William Darcy over the death, on the second day of April, only three days before Easter Sunday, of Lady Anne Camile Darcy.

Those Anne had elicited promises from were honour bound to stand by their word.

One who did not mourn the mistress of Pemberley's passing was George Wickham who was eleven. A few days before her death, Mr. Darcy had withdrawn as his godfather and would no longer be his patron. He was sure it was that prig William's fault. He would bide his time and take his revenge when the time was right.