Epilogue Chapter 2

Drawing Room

Pemberley

10 th November, 1817

Elizabeth blew out a breath, dipped her pen into her ink, and began writing carefully.

Dear Mary,

We heard the news only yesterday that the Crown Princess died in childbirth on 7th November, and her infant son with her. We are all grieving our princess. You know that I am usually a happy person, but I cried for two hours after hearing the news, and only managed to calm myself when the children were brought down from the nursery. They do not need to see their mother weeping hysterically, poor mites.

Since you live closer to London, you probably heard the news first…

The door to the drawing room opened, distracting her, and Elizabeth lifted her head at the welcome sound of her eldest sister's voice, who said, "Charles, can you help take the children upstairs to see their cousins? I think Aaron is in need of a nap, too."

"Of course," Bingley replied, and a moment later, the beloved voice of Fitzwilliam Darcy chimed in, "I will come up with you. I daresay our rapscallions will be mad with excitement at the arrival of their cousins, and the nursemaids may need some help calming them down."

Elizabeth had, by this time, pushed herself to her feet and was waddling toward the door when Mrs. Jane Bingley, glorious in blue, entered the room.

"Jane!" Elizabeth cried out and rushed forward to embrace her sister, though it was difficult thanks to her girth.

"Lizzy," Jane replied, pressing a kiss on her sister's cheek. "I hope you do not mind that we came so unexpectedly."

"No, I am most grateful," Elizabeth gulped and then gestured toward the crackling fire. "Do sit down, my dear, and I am certain Mrs. Reynolds will have a maid bring tea shortly. Is it not awful?"

"It is," Jane replied, her blue eyes filmed with liquid. "The entire country is in mourning over our fair princess. What a tragedy for England!"

Elizabeth pressed her lips together and applied a handkerchief to her eyes, which were seeping again. "It is truly dreadful, and now what will happen? The old king has just lost his only legitimate grandchild!"

Jane blew out a breath and said, "In truth, Charles and I were hoping you and Fitzwilliam could answer that. The Prince Regent will certainly not have another child, and it seems as if most of our king's brothers and sisters died without legitimate issue. It is disturbing and worrisome."

"It is," Elizabeth said in exasperation. "Thank God you and I are simple people and not bound by the nonsense of the Royal Marriages Act. If not for that, the Duke of Clarence's children would provide ten legitimate grandchildren!"

"An actress as a queen, Lizzy? Surely not!"

Elizabeth grimaced and nodded. "You are correct, of course. It is entirely impossible that King George III and Queen Charlotte would allow anyone but a princess to marry one of their sons, but to have thirteen living children and no legitimate grandchildren is incredible and unfortunate."

Jane made a soft sound of agreement and then tilted her head and asked, "How are you feeling, Lizzy?"

"Large," her sister said, patting her belly. "The doctor has been visiting every day on Fitzwilliam's orders, and I think I will give birth soon."

"Is that why Fitzwilliam is so worried?" Jane asked.

Elizabeth looked up, startled, and then sighed deeply. "You are very discerning, my dear sister. Yes, the news of Princess Charlotte's death in childbirth is making my usually sensible husband very fearful about my own upcoming delivery. I keep telling him that I have already had two children without difficulty, but he loves me so much."

"I know he does," Jane agreed, her eyes misting. "So you are not frightened on your own behalf?"

"I am not," Elizabeth said decidedly. "All five of us take after Mamma. She birthed us without any problems, and none of us have had any significant difficulties with our own deliveries. No, I am merely tired of being pregnant and anxious to meet this little one face to face."

The door opened with two maids who brought in tea and its accouterments, and Elizabeth and Jane, by mutual consent, began speaking of their children and lives. Yes, the Crown Princess of England was gone, but they still had each other and would enjoy this precious time together.

/

Sitting Room

London

Darcy House

Two Days Later

Lady Georgiana Lyndon looked up from her Bible, as the door to the sitting room opened.

Her finger lay still on the words, The LORD is thy keeper: the LORD is thy shade upon thy right hand. Dark bold print near the top of the page proclaimed the 121st Psalm. Georgiana had always found comfort in the Psalms, and the death of the crown princess had shaken her enough to send her reaching for her well-worn leather Bible.

Now a sight just as comforting met her eyes; her dear husband, Matthew, stepped into the room, and she looked up at him fondly. Lord Lyndon was a minor baron from Sussex, laden with encumbered estates left to him by an incorrigible gamester of a father. Matthew, some ten years her senior, and the alliance of an impoverished nobleman with a young heiress had caused some matrons to whisper behind their fans.

But Georgiana knew what she was about. Lord Lyndon, though neither wealthy nor handsome, was sensible, honest, honorable, and intelligent, and kind-hearted. He had made no secret of his impecunious position, nor that he hoped to use his wife's dowry to return his own estates to solvency. Georgiana had agreed, on the condition that the tenants, as well as the land, receive all the necessary attentions. She had been pleased to find out that he was eager to assist the tenants as she, and the two of them had spent several months following their wedding at his estate. Georgiana had ridden out with him nearly every day, acquainting herself with the land and its people – the tenants, the farmers, the middle-aged parson and his comfortable wife, the servants, and the myriad children in cottages.

She still loved the country far more than Town and was glad that most of their marriage saw them ensconced in the estate house, with renovations slowly transforming the dilapidated domicile into something very livable, if not particularly grand. Georgiana had even taken on some of the gardening herself, with the help of several servants, of course, replanting the old dead bed with a profusion of blooms, weeding the former gravel paths, and making the gardens a place of loveliness again. It was not typical work for the lady of the house, but she enjoyed time on her knees, the smell of fresh dirt in her nostrils.

Of late, though, she had been forced to directing the handful of gardeners her husband had hired instead of kneeling in the soil herself. The illness of this, her second pregnancy, had not been severe, but at over seven months along, standing up from a crouch was challenging.

Although Charis, their daughter, had been born without difficulty, Matthew found himself with disquieting concerns as Georgiana's confinement grew nearer and had whisked his family off to London so that his wife would be near the best accoucheurs that England had to offer. When applied to, Darcy had loaned the London house to his sister and brother-by-marriage with good will and given them free use of the place. He and Elizabeth were still installed at Pemberley, but he had directed his sister's family to treat Darcy House as their own.

"The Hardisons and Saints have just arrived," Lord Lyndon said with his gentle smile.

Georgiana lurched to her feet, her eyes lighting up. "Oh, how wonderful! Would you be so kind as to tell a maid…"

"To bring tea. Of course, my love. I will have the ladies come here after they have had an opportunity to refresh themselves upstairs, while I will entertain their husbands. I suspect the children are in need of some running around, so the maids are taking them upstairs to play with Charis."

Georgiana's eyes filled with tears, and she smiled mistily. "You are so good to me, Matthew."

"I love you," her husband said simply and passed out of the room. Georgiana, glancing at the fire, rather thought it needed another log. On the other hand, she was sufficiently rotund as to make bending overly difficult, so she decided to wait.

Twenty minutes later, Mrs. Kitty Hardison and Mrs. Lydia Saint entered the room, with all the appearance of having hastily changed into clean dresses. Both were attired charmingly but practically in woolen gowns, with shawls around their shoulders to protect themselves from drafts.

"Lyddy, Kitty!" Georgiana cried out, pushing herself again to her feet. "How glad I am to see you!"

The former Bennets surged forward to embrace her, just as a maid entered with tea service. Georgiana returned the embrace with fervor and then gestured for her guests to sit down as she turned her attention on pouring tea.

"Maud," she said to the maid, "would you build up the fire a trifle?"

"Of course," the girl said cheerfully, turning toward the fireplace. Georgiana poured tea for her two sisters by marriage and handed them over before carefully preparing her own cup. When Maud left the room, Lydia turned toward her hostess and said gravely, "I do hope you do not mind us arriving on the heels of an express; Jane and Charles left Greenhaven for Pemberley two days ago, and none of us wished to be rattling around the estate with the Hursts and the Streathams."

"I am very glad you are here," Georgiana said, "and I hope you will stay as long as you wish. Why did the Bingleys go to Pemberley? Is Elizabeth all right?"

"She is," Kitty said immediately, "but Jane was worried, as Elizabeth is very near her time, and with this dreadful news of Princess Charlotte's death…"

"It is awful!" Georgiana said, and tears leaked out of her eyes. "To lose two generations at once, and poor Prince Leopold! I understand he is prostrate with grief!"

"At least he and Princess Charlotte were happy together," Kitty remarked, her own pretty face suffused with sympathy. "Even if it was for only a short time."

Georgiana nodded, swallowed, and said, "I have cried enough these last days, so please tell me about your children. Are they well?"

Both of her guests brightened, and the next fifteen minutes were enjoyed by all as they spoke of Georgiana's daughter, Charis, and Kitty's son, Lucas, and Lydia's daughter, Eleanor, all of whom were between one and two years of age and were vibrant and energetic children.

"How are the Hursts and Streathams?" Georgiana asked eventually.

"The Hursts are doing very well, actually," Kitty said. "I think that both of them are thriving as parents, and they spend substantial time with their twins. As for Lady Caroline Streatham, well, she is at least courteous to us all, so I cannot complain too much."

"She is still tiresome," Lydia said with a shake of her curls. "She is simply never content in the country. She gets bored so easily."

"She and her husband should take lodgings in Town then," Georgiana remarked.

"Jane suspects that Sir Mark is unwilling to bring his wife near all the shops in Town," Kitty said with a wrinkled nose. "Caroline has never been very sensible about money, and she will spend too much, not to mention that she is far too fond of gambling!"

"I, for one, do not understand a passion for gambling," Georgiana commented. "When you think of how many fortunes have been lost over the gaming tables! Why take such a chance?"

"Yes," Lydia agreed. "Dear Mamma warned us against gambling from a young age, not only for ourselves but also our prospective husbands."

"How is Mrs. Bennet?" Georgiana asked.

"She is well. She is at Longbourn now, helping Mary with the children…"

/

20 th November, 1812

Pemberley

Billiard Room

Library

Noon

There was a feverish light in Darcy's eyes and dark circles beneath, along with a nervous energy in his hands. Bingley kept shooting his friend worried glances, watching as Darcy once again adjusted and readjusted the fan of cards in his hand. He and Darcy had played four games of piquet, and Bingley had won all four. That showed how much the master of Pemberley was distracted, as he almost always beat his friend.

Mr. Barnes, the rector, was the only one who seemed to remember the tea, steaming gently on the table beneath the window, for he brought over a cup to press into Darcy's hand. Bingley cast around for a new topic of discussion to distract his friend from Elizabeth's labor, now well past the start of its eighth hour. The current plays at the Globe in London had been exhausted. Likewise discussions of the opera, and how good the harvests had been. Even cards had become uninteresting, as Darcy's mind was focused on his wife almost to the exclusion of all else.

At the click of the door, all three men looked over eagerly. Jane Bingley nudged the door open with her elbow and stepped inside, a well-wrapped bundle in her arms.

"Fitzwilliam, your son," she said with a broad smile on her face.

"Is Elizabeth well?" Darcy exclaimed, leaping to his feet and hurrying forward, abandoning his teacup on the edge of the table where it wobbled uneasily.

"She is entirely well," Jane replied reassuringly. "She had an easy delivery, and there is no danger."

Darcy felt tears well in his eyes, and he held out his hands to take his infant son in his arms. The child, wide awake with solemn blue eyes, stared up at him, and he found himself crying out, "Praise God. Praise God."

"Congratulations, Darcy," Bingley said, thumping his friend on the shoulder, and Mr. Barnes said, "Yes, Mr. Darcy, many congratulations on the birth of your son. He is a gift."

"They are all a gift," Darcy agreed, gulped, and asked, "May I see Elizabeth?"

"You may, for a few minutes," Jane replied, taking her new nephew back into her own arms. "The baby will wish to eat soon, and then Lizzy must rest."

"And then I suggest you take a nap as well, Darcy," Bingley ordered with more authority than was usually heard from the genial man. "You have not slept well these last days."

Darcy, thinking of his fears for his wife, could only nod. "I feel like I could sleep a week. Praise God that Elizabeth and the baby are well!