Page 55 of Losing Lizzy
“I ask you to raise your glasses to celebrate the betrothal of my daughter, Miss Elizabeth Anne Darcy, to Hendrix Beckton, 8th Earl Elmhurst. To the future Lord and Lady Elmhurst.”
“To the future Lord and Lady Elmhurst,” all in attendance called in response. His guests then sipped their champagne or their punch, depending upon what propriety permitted, and then turned back to their conversations and greeting old friends.
It was the evening of their annual ball, the one that marked the “supposed” years of their marriage. They were the Darcys, and it had seemed to all involved only appropriate to use their public celebration of their marriage to announce the upcoming joining of their daughter, Elizabeth Anne, to an earl. “Who would have thought the Darcys would align themselves with another earldom?” Elizabeth had said over breakfast on this very day.
After all these years, their public faces remained in place because doing so benefited their family, and family remained their first priority. Traditionally, they celebrated their actual wedding date in a more private manner, which suited Darcy more so than this public display; yet, he would not spoil the moment for his lovely Elizabeth Anne.
It had taken close to eight years of hard work and manipulations for Pemberley to recover from 1816, the “Year Without Summer,” as it had been called in the newsprints. Unfortunately, 1816 had been followed by a series of wet summers and snow remaining as late as July in parts of the Lake District, countered by dry growing seasons the following year. If he hadbeen at Pemberley when the severe weather had set its sights on England, he might have been better prepared for the eventual downfall of agriculture, as he once knew it. In those early years of saving his family’s future, there were days both he and Elizabeth worked the fields around the clock to prove his methods of cultivation viable. He had never heard of another woman like her, and, from all accounts, she was quite “infamous” in that manner, but not for her real “sin” of anticipating her vows.
Fitzwilliam and Georgiana had remained at Rosings for nearly ten years. The Southern shires, in many ways, had had worse weather than Derbyshire, likely because of the extremes from a dry and hot summer in 1818 to frost standing on the ground well into May the following year and snow in October. His sister had borne her husband another son and a daughter, and, from all reports of their life in Oxfordshire, they were quite happy. As Darcy had predicted, while they were still at Rosings Park, Fitzwilliam had served Kent well in the House of Commons, and he now served not only in the Commons for Oxfordshire but also served in the Prime Minister William Lamb, Lord Melbourne’s inner circle.
Elizabeth’s sister Kitty had married John Lucas and was the mistress of Lucas Lodge. She and Lucas had five children. Meanwhile, Miss Mary Bennet had married the son of one of Sheffield’s brothers. Darcy had been pleased to offer Mr. Anthony Sheffield the living at Kympton when it came available. It seemed only fair to keep it in the family. The Sheffields had four children, making Darcy and Elizabeth’s extended family quite large. They both adored the idea.
Unfortunately, for Mrs. Lydia Wickham, after five years of marriage and two more illegitimate children, in addition to those of which she had been made cognizant after her marriage to Lieutenant Wickham, claiming the lady’s husband as father, George Wickham unceremoniously boarded a ship to America, with a promise he would send for his wife once he was settled there. Some nineteen years later, Mrs. Wickham had yet to hear from him. She now resided with her elderly mother in a cottagenear Meryton, for which Mrs. Bennet’s sons-in-marriage paid the upkeep. Darcy supposed he and the others would continue to maintain the cottage even after Mrs. Bennet’s passing, for Mrs. Lydia Wickham had few prospects available. Although Mr. Wickham had more children than he should have, Mrs. Wickham was not to know such happiness, and as no one had been able to prove whether the gentleman was dead or alive, Lydia Bennet Wickham was not permitted, by law, to remarry. She had paid a high price for her impetuousness.
Elizabeth’s father had had his ultimate revenge on Mr. Collins. He had outlived the man by nearly five years and had permitted a more deserving branch of the family tree to inherit Longbourn. Mrs. Collins had born her husband three children in the fifteen years they were together: all daughters. Currently, Mrs. Collins served as governess to his Cousin Anne’s children at Rosings Park and was permitted Hunsford Cottage as her residence. He did not know what would happen with Anne’s children no longer required a governess, but that decision was not his to make.
Anne had married the minor son of a marquess, who was happy to permit Fitzwilliam and Georgiana to remain at Rosings while he and Anne enjoyed life on the Continent. From what Darcy had learned from his sister Georgiana, Anne was with her mother in Italy when Lady Catherine took her last breath. Her ladyship’s remains had been returned to England, and Fitzwilliam had them placed in the family cemetery on the estate.
His Aunt and Uncle Matlock had died together in a carriage accident nine years after Darcy had banished them from his life. At Georgiana and Fitzwilliam’s request, Darcy had paid a duty call upon Roland Fitzwilliam, who, according to all who spoke of the new earl, had yet to change his ways. It was the last time he acknowledged his connection to his late mother’s brother.
As to Charles Bingley, Darcy’s former friend had married the Society miss his sisters had insisted upon him taking to wife. From what Darcy had learned in passing, Bingley had run through the fortune his father had left him, bailing out firstone sister and then another, not to mention his wife’s family. Moreover, without Darcy’s steady hand on Bingley’s shoulder, the man had made a series of poor investments which had left him near bankruptcy.
Elizabeth slid her hand into his as he watched Elmhurst lead Elizabeth Anne to the dance floor for a waltz. “Who shall be your partner for this dance, Mr. Darcy?” she asked with a tease.
He looked down upon her lovingly. “I promised our daughter Emilia I would partner her for a waltz. She is too young for another to stand up with her, but she should have the practice before she makes her Come Out in the spring.”
“She is seventeen, sir,” his wife protested. “Many girls are married by the time they are sixteen. Moreover, the rules you quote are antiquated. Young girls have been dancing the waltz from the time you were onThe Lost Sparrow.”
“My ignorance then,” he said with a twitch of his lips. “Yet, you know I do not wish to part with another daughter so soon. Therefore, at Pemberley, as always, our house ...”
“Your rules,” she said with an easy laugh. “You, sir, are akin to a dinosaur.”
“You are fascinated with dinosaurs,” he countered.
“I am,” she admitted. “Like you, if I had my way, they would each remain at Pemberley forever.”
“And your partner for the first waltz?” he asked, although he knew the answer.
“Bennet means to have his duty done early to his mother and sisters,” she said with a smile. She had born him three more children: Two more daughters and a son.
“You shall save me the supper waltz?” she asked. “I do not wish to dine with another. After all, this isour wedding anniversary.” She presented him a knowing look.
Darcy smiled down upon her. “I cannot forget the day I threw caution to the wind and raced to Scotland to marry the woman I love. Moreover, you are aware of how fond of dancing I am.” He lifted his brows in a challenge.
“I know,” she said with an answering smile, realizing his lie was meant to tease her. “You love to dance when you find thewoman tolerable enough to tempt you.” She went on her toes to kiss him briefly.
“You two require more decorum,” a very masculine voice warned.
“Where is your wife?” Elizabeth said with a smile.
“Jane is speaking to your Rebecca and our Chloe, reminding them that fourteen-year-old young ladies are not allowed to waltz.”
“I just said the same thing of Emilia,” Darcy commiserated.
Albert Sheffield not only owned the bookstore on Park Lane and the one in Brighton, but he had opened three others, nearly as large in Staffordshire, Northumberland, and his home shire of Cumbria. He had purchased a small estate in Richmond for his bride, a gift on their tenth wedding anniversary. They were accepted in all the finer houses and were often-sought-after guests at a variety of house parties.
“I believe I shall join Jane,” Elizabeth said. She squeezed Darcy’s hand and brushed a quick kiss across Sheffield’s cheek.
