Epilogue Chapter 1

Elizabeth’s Bedchamber

Pemberley

Christmas Day, 1816

Elizabeth Darcy leaned back against her chair and closed her eyes. She was tired, very tired, and given the warmth of the room and the crackling of the fire, it would be all too easy to fall asleep. Except, of course, that the soft grunting sounds, and the weight in her arms, kept her drowsy but awake.

The door swung open, and she opened her eyes to smile at her husband, who stepped in with his own smile.

“How are you feeling, darling?” he asked, crossing over to kiss her on the cheek.

“I am well,” she replied, and then both looked down at the infant on her breast.

Stephen Darcy’s eyes were closed, and his rosebud lips quivered, but Elizabeth was not deceived by this pretense at eating. The baby was, in fact, finished with nursing and ready for a nap.

“Sally!” she called out, and within seconds, the nursemaid appeared through the door and, after gathering the infant in her arms, carried him off to the sitting room next door, which had been transformed into a small nursery for the three-week-old heir to Pemberley.

“Shall I assist you to bed?” Darcy asked, regarding her with concern.

“No,” his wife returned decidedly. “I wish to visit Gabriella, for I miss her dreadfully, and then I will nap, but I intend to come down for dinner.”

Darcy suppressed a wince but, to Elizabeth’s relief, did not even bother arguing. She was absolutely determined to resume her place in the household, even if she had not yet been churched after the birth of their son. Indeed, she was quietly certain that being active after birth was better for her than lying about for weeks on end.

Darcy helped her to her feet, fetched a shawl to wrap around her shoulders, and together they walked out the door and up the stairs to the nursery, where two-year-old Gabriella Darcy was playing on the floor with blocks under the kindly eye of her nursemaid and her aunt, Mrs. Kitty Bingley, now married to the master of Greymond.

“Mamma!” Gabriella shrieked at the sight of her mother, leaping to her feet and rushing over to wrap her arms around Elizabeth’s skirts.

“Ella,” Elizabeth replied, sinking gracefully into a crouch and planting loving kisses on the child’s dark curls. “I love you, dear one.”

“Lub you, Mamma! Lub you!”

Darcy, noting Elizabeth’s unshed tears, leaned over to lift the toddler into his arms, and said, “Sit down, my dear, and Gabriella can sit on your lap.”

Elizabeth made her hasty way to a wingbacked chair by the fire, sat down and accepted her daughter into her arms. Gabriella, somewhat to her father’s surprise, promptly curled up in her mother’s lap and began sucking her thumb.

“She is so quiet for you,” he remarked, taking his own seat near his wife and daughter.

Elizabeth chuckled, though softly, and said, “This is very unusual. I suspect she is merely tired.”

“She is very tired, Madame,” her nursemaid said, quietly gathering up the blocks into a wooden box and then departing the room.

Kitty, who had hitherto been silent, said, “How are you feeling, Lizzy?”

“Oh, very well,” her elder sister replied. “Fatigued, of course, but that is to be expected. How are you feeling?”

Kitty blew out her breath and wrinkled her nose. “I am fatigued as well, though I know the next few months will be harder still. I confess to being rather nervous.”

Elizabeth smiled reassuringly and said, “My dear, I am certain all will be well. Charles has already arranged for an excellent accoucheur to assist you, and in any case, the Bennet daughters have always birthed children with ease.”

This was true enough. Jane Russell was now mother of three, her twins lusty three-year-olds, and their little sister a sturdy infant of eleven months of age, while Mary, now two years wed to a parson, was mother of a six-month-old daughter.

“I know,” Kitty said, “but I have never been as strong as the rest of you.”

Elizabeth felt her eyes well with tears at the sight of her sister’s frightened countenance and was relieved when her husband said, “Kitty, my dear sister, I am confident that if our Lord Jesus could be safely born in a stable, you can deliver a child in warmth and comfort, with the assistance of an excellent doctor, and under the benevolent care of your devoted husband. Moreover, we will all be praying for you.”

Kitty relaxed openly at these words and breathed out a deep sigh. “Yes, Brother. Thank you.”

Elizabeth relaxed as well and smiled approvingly at her husband. The truth was that childbirth was a dangerous affair, but there was no point in alarming Kitty with talk of melancholy possibilities.

“I am sorry that I missed the Christmas service this morning,” she said, intent on changing the subject, “although it would not have been wise for me to venture out yet. Indeed, I do not even know what the weather is like outside.”

“It is cold,” Kitty said with a shiver, “though the box was surprisingly warm. I do love the Pemberley chapel. Those stained glass windows of the nativity are so beautiful!”

“They are,” Elizabeth agreed, and looked down as her daughter wiggled a trifle, her brown eyes now closed, her mouth scrunched up in an adorable pout.

“Lizzy,” Kitty said suddenly, “Did you hear that Caroline, my sister-by-marriage, is engaged to be married?”

This provoked both Darcys to turn on her with surprised looks, and Elizabeth said, “Indeed, I had not! Who is he?”

Kitty wrinkled her nose and said, “He is a gentleman who is master of a small estate near Scarborough and a close friend of Mr. Hurst’s. Frankly, he is not at all the sort of man Caroline wished to marry, but without the Darcy name as an entrée to London society, she had few invitations in the past three years in Town. Charles likes Mr. Barclay very much, and we are both pleased that Caroline and her new husband will be settled near the Hursts in Scarborough. I like Louisa rather more than Caroline, but not enough that I regret our substantial distance from Yorkshire.”

The child in Elizabeth’s arms grunted, and she looked down to observe that Gabriella was now completely asleep. Darcy, observing this, stood up and reached over to lift the little one out of his wife’s arms.

Elizabeth, watching her tall, strong husband carry their daughter into the next room to her waiting crib, felt tears of joy fill her eyes. How blessed she was to have such a family – her dear sisters, including Georgiana, her parents, her aunts and uncles, her darling children, and most of all, her dear Fitzwilliam.