Chapter 2

Sitting Room

Longbourn

Christmas Eve, 1821

Elizabeth Darcy stared out of the window of the sitting room, her eyes fixed on the white snow covering the east lawn of her childhood home.

It had been a full ten years since she had celebrated Christmas at Longbourn. After their marriage, she and Fitzwilliam had spent every December at Pemberley, delighting in the traditions of that great estate. They had visited Longbourn and Netherfield many times during the last decade, but they much preferred to travel during the warmer months of the year, when travel was easier and safer.

It was strange but wonderful to be back here at the house of her birth after so many years, and she looked forward to attending the Christmas service in Meryton on the morrow. Mr. Allen had retired a few years previously, but his son was now rector of the parish, and by all accounts, was doing an excellent job.

There was such beauty in the changes of the seasons and of the Christian calendar. This year especially, there was great comfort in celebrating the birth of the child who would save his people and repair their relationship with Almighty God.

There was a soft snuffle at her right, and she turned to observe her mother, who had been dozing in the wingbacked chair by the fire but was now awake.

“Lizzy!” Mrs. Bennet cried out.

“Good day, Mamma.”

“My dear girl!” the mistress of Longbourn exclaimed, lurching to her feet and embracing her daughter. “It is so good to see you. How long have you been here?”

“We reached Netherfield a few hours ago, and Darcy and I had to settle the children, so we arrived here only an hour ago. We spent some time with Father, and then I came looking for you but did not wish to disturb your rest.”

“You should have woken me! Now, let me look at you!” Mrs. Bennet stepped back, regarded Mrs. Darcy carefully, and smiled in approval. “You look very well, Lizzy.”

“Thank you, Mamma. So do you.”

Mrs. Bennet chuckled and shook her head. “I do not, but it has been a hard few months.”

Elizabeth pulled her mother, slightly shrunken with age, into her arms and said, “I know, Mamma. I am so thankful everything turned out well.”

Mrs. Bennet seemed to relish the embrace, which lasted a full minute, before pulling away and plucking a handkerchief from her pocket. “I was so frightened, Lizzy. I have never seen Mr. Bennet so sick!”

Elizabeth nodded solemnly. “Lady Lucas also had a very hard time with it. Charlotte Collins wrote that she barely survived. I regret that we were not able to come and help you in any way.”

“Nonsense,” her mother replied. “You could not bring an infant into an area rife with influenza. No, we managed well enough thanks to the two nurses, Susanna and Molly. They took such good care of your father and my own illness was quite mild. And by the grace of God, Christopher did not fall sick at all!”

Elizabeth looked out the window at this moment and was fortunate enough to spy her young brother, who was riding his pony down the drive with Mr. Alexander Barton, her sister Mary’s husband, walking at his side.

“Christopher is certainly healthy,” Elizabeth said reassuringly.

“Oh, he is, he is!” Mrs. Bennet replied, also turning to gaze at her only son. “Christopher caught the chicken pox when he was five, and the measles when he was seven, and has fallen victim to the occasional trifling cold, but he is robust. Oh Lizzy, it is such a comfort to me that I will not be required to leave Longbourn when Mr. Bennet passes on. I daresay Charlotte Collins is greatly disappointed, but this estate belongs to our family!”

“Charlotte knows that,” Elizabeth said soothingly. “Moreover, she is happy at Hunsford; it is a good living, and she adores her children and her home.”

She was, Elizabeth knew, not quite as enamored with her foolish husband, but Charlotte had managed to carve out a very pleasant life in spite of a silly spouse.

“I expect that it is far easier living at Hunsford without that tiresome Lady Catherine as mistress,” Mrs. Bennet remarked, her eyes flashing fire. “For her to come here and try to break up your engagement to Mr. Darcy…”

“That was a long time ago,” Elizabeth said soothingly, “and Lady Catherine has been buried these five years. And yes, Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam have proven a far better master and mistress of Rosings than Lady Catherine ever was.”

“Did Mrs. Fitzwilliam ever have a son?”

“No, Richard and Anne have two daughters, but Rosings is not entailed away from the female line. Besides, Anne is only in her thirties; she might well have another child!”

“Like I birthed my Christopher when I was three and forty,” Mrs. Bennet said, and again her face glowed with pride. Elizabeth smiled at her, quite at ease with her mother’s obvious preference for her youngest child. Christopher was indeed a tremendous gift, as he, unlike his older sisters, was able to keep Longbourn in the family.

The door opened, and Mary Barton stepped into the room. “Mamma, Lizzy, almost everyone has gathered in the drawing room.”

Elizabeth helped her mother to her feet, and the two ladies walked arm in arm into the drawing room, which was rather full of couples, though Elizabeth did not see her husband. That did not worry her; it was likely that Darcy and Mr. Bennet, now mostly recovered from his brush with death, were enjoying a long discussion about Latin verbs or something of the sort.

She guided Mrs. Bennet to a warm seat by the fire and quietly sank down into a chair, her eyes shifting from one couple to another.

Mary was speaking softly with Mr. Barton, a music master who had claimed her as his bride some seven years previous. The two had settled at Longbourn five years previously in order to help the aging Bennets with the responsibilities of the estate and oversight of the mansion. Mary, now mother to her own two sons, had also taken Christopher under her wing, as Mr. Bennet, for all that he loved his son, did not have a great deal in common with the boy, who was an energetic outdoorsman, even at a young age.

Kitty and her husband, Mr. Anthony Jackson, were seated in a small nook in the corner, chatting with the ease of friendship. Mr. Jackson was a wealthy business man, some years older than Kitty, who had met the fourth Bennet daughter at Mr. Gardiner’s house in Cheapside, and he had fallen in love with surprising swiftness. Kitty had taken somewhat longer to return the man’s regard, but they had now been happily married for five years, and Kitty was expecting her second child, while their two-year-old son napped in the nursery upstairs.

Lydia was standing next to her husband near the window, looking out over the front lawn. She had enjoyed two thoroughly wonderful Seasons in Town before marrying the third son of a Marquis. Lord Nathaniel Waxton was moneyed thanks to a large fortune received from a late aunt, and Lydia and Nathaniel were similarly outgoing. They also doted on the one daughter of their marriage, even as they hoped that the child in Lydia’s womb was a son. Elizabeth had accepted, some years previous, that Lydia did not long for the deep connection that Elizabeth found with Darcy. Given her personality and goals, Lady Lydia Waxton had done exceedingly well for herself.

Mr. and Mrs. Bingley were seated across the room, side by side, with Jane knitting booties energetically. She was expecting her fourth child in a few months, and Emma, the eldest of the Bingley children, was hopeful of another sister after the arrival of two brothers. Jane remained a beauty, though her early bloom had given way to serene maturity. The Bingleys were deeply in love and were wonderful overseers of Netherfield, which they had purchased eight years previous.

The door opened again, and Elizabeth turned and smiled joyfully at the sight of her husband, who stepped into the room followed by servants with tea and refreshments.

Elizabeth leaped to her feet, hurried over, and held out her hands to Darcy, who took them in a strong, encouraging grip.

“How is Father?” she asked.

“He is well, but too tired to face us all; either that, or he preferred to read a book rather than engage in conversation.”

Elizabeth smiled and nodded. Even when in full health, Mr. Bennet did not particularly enjoy large parties. Now, as he recovered from a severe bout of influenza, he needed more rest than normal.

“Do you know whether Lucas is well?” Elizabeth asked a moment later. Their five-month-old baby had never journeyed away from Pemberley before, and she was concerned about how he would react in an unfamiliar nursery.

“I checked on him before I came here,” Darcy replied. “He is sound asleep, with two responsible maids looking after him.”

Jane, who had risen at Darcy’s entrance, spoke up and said, “Your older children are also doing well back at Netherfield. When Charles and I left, they were having a marvelous time playing with their cousins and with Lord and Lady Hawkridge.”

“I hope that since she is in her fifth month, Georgiana is feeling substantially better?” Elizabeth asked.

“Much better, thankfully,” Jane said and smiled. “The baron keeps making absurd suggestions about purchasing a pony for the baby, and finding tiny rapiers so he can fence with his infant son and daughter, and ridiculous things such as that.”

Elizabeth could not help but laugh. “It is a constant source of amusement to me that Georgiana, who used to be so quiet, married such a lively man.”

“I think, like me, my sister benefits from a spirited mate,” Darcy said with an affectionate look at his wife. “Moreover, the baron is both artistic and musical.”

“If you would all care to sit down,” Mary said, raising her voice, “I can hand out tea to everyone.”

Elizabeth obediently took a place on a small settee, and Darcy sat next to her. She nestled closer to him, blinking back tears of joy as she considered her many blessings.

Her dear Fitzwilliam, faithful and true, had proven himself a truly devoted husband and father and an excellent master of Pemberley. Moreover, her sisters were all happily married, which was more than any of them had hoped for in those dark days before Mr. Bingley came to Netherfield.

Not for the first time, Elizabeth wondered what would have happened if Caroline Bingley had not broken her ankle. If Bingley had stayed in Town due to pressure from his sisters and Darcy, would she and her husband, and Jane and Bingley, have ever met again? It seemed unlikely.

“We owe a great deal to that pig, you know,” she suddenly said aloud, and Darcy, who knew her very well, looked puzzled for only a brief moment and then pulled her close to him and lifted his tea cup toward hers.

“To an outstanding pig, my dear.”

They laughed together, and then Darcy grew more solemn. “It has been ten years less a day since I asked you to marry me,” he murmured, and she smiled up at him and said, “I remember. I was so happy when you did. I very much admired you, though my love has only deepened with time.”

“And I was so honored, and delighted, and relieved when you accepted my offer, especially given that when we first met, I was a trifle…”

“Crotchety?” Elizabeth finished for him, and they both laughed again.

“Yes, crotchety, and proud, and above my company,” he replied and lifted her hand to press a kiss on her palm. “I owe you so very much, my love.”

“We are equally blessed,” she returned with fervor. They lapsed into a comfortable silence as Mary handed them their tea, and Elizabeth stared out the window toward the road that led to Meryton. The Christmas season would always be a special time for her. Not only was it a joyous celebration of the birth of Christ, but also because she and Darcy had fallen madly in love and married during this holy season.

The End