Chapter 1

The Nursery

Christmas Eve, 1813

Longbourn

A fire crackled in the grate, casting light and flickering shadows across the carpeted floor. A cradle sat near to the hearth where it would be warm; soft linen blankets were heaped inside, and a stuffed white rabbit, lovingly crafted, perched atop them. A pair of cots sat along the wall, one covered with a dust cloth and the other made up with pillow and blanket. A rocking chair had been pulled near to the cradle and the fire, a footstool before it.

“Baby,” little Luke Gardiner said solemnly, gazing gravely at his cousins. “Baby.”

Mary Bennet looked down on her infant brother, Christopher, who was snuggled in her arms, and smiled at the youngest Gardiner. “Yes. Baby.”

“My dear, he is as beautiful as you said in your letters,” Mrs. Gardiner crooned, looking raptly at the tiny heir of Longbourn. “I am so thankful for you all.”

Mary Bennet gulped and felt a tear slip down her cheek. It was difficult to comprehend all the blessings of the last year, with Jane and Elizabeth finding good husbands and then Mrs. Bennet, at the ripe age of three and forty years, conceiving and carrying a son to full term.

“Yes,” Mary agreed huskily. Of all the sisters, she was the one most attached to Longbourn, and if Christopher survived to adulthood, the estate would stay with the Bennet family. “Yes, we are incredibly grateful.”

“How is your mother?” her aunt asked in concern.

“She is still fatigued from the birth, but I suppose that is not a great surprise given her age. She rests more than usual, but she is also…”

“At peace,” Mrs. Gardiner continued and nodded wisely. “I know it weighed on her that she had previously failed to produce an heir.”

“And we would have faced poverty if Father had died with all of us unwed,” Mary said. She had never before permitted herself to speak aloud of her fears of poverty, but now the danger was passed, with a baby brother in her arms and two elder sisters very well married.

“We would have taken care of you,” Mrs. Gardiner declared. “I promise.”

“You have your own children to think of,” Mary insisted and could not avoid glancing at her aunt’s slightly bulging abdomen. Mrs. Gardiner followed her gaze and could not help but laugh. “You are quite right, my dear; I am with child again.”

“Congratulations,” Mary said happily. “Many congratulations.”

/

Netherfield

Christmas Morning

Jane Bingley turned over in bed and squinted into the dim light which filled the room. A moment later, she sat up with a soft exclamation, which woke up her husband, who was slumbering at her side.

“What is wrong, Jane?” he asked blearily, and she turned a distressed look toward him. “It is already nine o’clock. The church service will start soon!”

“We are not going to church today, dear one,” he replied and reached out to gently push her down.

Jane lay down gratefully, looked at Charles, and gently stroked his slightly bristled cheek with her hand. He had not shaved yet, then.

“Why are we not going?” she asked curiously.

“You are exhausted, and you would not wish to leave Emma behind while she is poorly.”

This was true enough. Baby Emma, two months of age, was a bouncing, healthy child, but she had come down with a trifling cold a few days earlier, and Jane was startled at how irritable her usually happy baby was.

“True,” she agreed softly. “She has been wanting to eat more often, too.”

Silence fell before Charles murmured, “Perhaps we should hire a wet nurse.”

“There are none locally available,” his wife replied immediately, “and I would not care to hire someone from Town whom I do not know at all.”

“Perhaps Mrs. Buttle is aware of someone?”

Jane sighed. “I did ask her when I last visited Longbourn, and she is not acquainted with anyone else appropriate in the vicinity.”

She felt rather than saw the frown on her husband’s face, and she reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. “Do not worry about me, Charles. I am young and strong and am quite able to feed Emma. My mother needs Mrs. Buttle to feed my little brother, but I am entirely capable of caring for my baby.”

“I know, but I hate seeing you so tired.”

“It is worth it,” Jane replied, and in spite of her fatigue, she smiled. She adored Charles to the depths of her being, but her love for her baby daughter! It was like nothing else she had ever experienced.

There was a soft tap on the door, and a maidservant entered a moment later, with a whimpering Miss Emma Bingley in her arms.

“Madame, the baby is hungry.”

“Bring her to me,” Jane ordered.

/

Church

Pemberley

The fur trimming Elizabeth’s hat tickled pleasantly at her face and warmed her ears. Her hands were comfortably toasty in her muff, and she rested her feet gratefully on the warming brick before the pew. The ancient church was very beautiful, with its graceful Gothic stone walls and the colors of the stained glass windows still vivid after decades, but it was not at all warm in the winter.

Dozens of candles flickered in their holders, lining the walls between the windows and the altar. Their heat was as welcome as their light, brightening the full sanctuary. Almost every pew was filled, the servants and tenants of Pemberley lined up along them.

It lacked a few minutes before the service was to begin, and Elizabeth shifted a little closer to her husband, relishing his warmth. She felt herself smiling even as tears sprang to her eyes. She had been strangely emotional since conceiving her child some seven months previously, and she passed a hand over her rotund abdomen, where the heir of Pemberley was currently kicking her vigorously.

It had been a wonderful year since her marriage to Darcy, with many joyful memories of time spent together working to manage the estate. She and her husband argued on some occasions, but they always resolved their disagreements in a short time. Pemberley was thriving and more than one servant had mentioned, shyly, that they were pleased to have a mistress overseeing the great mansion.

Georgiana lived with them, and she and Elizabeth were the best of friends. Moreover, the Bennets were thriving, with Mrs. Bennet giving birth to the longed-for son. Elizabeth regretted that she had not yet met her tiny brother, but her pregnancy had been somewhat difficult, and she had not felt well enough to travel to Longbourn.

The old rector, Mr. Venables, stepped to the pulpit, and Elizabeth focused her eyes and attention on him. He smiled at the congregation and then looked down to read the Book of Common Prayer.

“From the gospel of Saint John.

Inthe beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the beginning with God. All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shineth in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not.”