Page 57 of Pemberley's Imposter
“What a lovely sentiment,” Elizabeth praised him before stifling a yawn. She pushed the ring onto her finger, and it fitted perfectly.
“Pray, sleep, my dear. I shall watch our daughter.”
“I shall try,” she agreed, already half asleep, wriggling closer.
Darcy opened his arms, and his wife settled within his embrace.
#
Soon after Ellie was born, the Bingleys tired of the unvaried society in Meryton, as one guest in particular frequently overstayed her welcome. Bingley purchased an estate not thirty miles from Pemberley, and by the end of 1813, two Bennet sisters had moved to the midlands. A disgruntled Miss Bingley fled the nest. She was of no mind to live so far from London’s superior society and married the heir presumptive to a baronetcy, a Mr William Elliot.
Chapter 19 Epilogue
Pemberley, June 1836
“I was sorry to hear about the passing of Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Bingley said in earnest sadness.
Darcy was saved from perjuring himself by the timely arrival of his butler. Richard had died peacefully in his sleep, still stark raving mad, in a hospital in the Scottish Highlands. Not even twenty-four years had mellowed Darcy’s unyielding temper where that man was concerned.
“A line of carriages has been spotted descending the hill, sir.”
“Thank you, Jonathan.”
He should not address his butler by his first name. The once-young footman had been promoted to butler a decade ago.
“Have you notified Mrs Darcy?”
“No, I thought to warn you first, sir. I shall tell the mistress.”
Darcy nodded with absence of mind. It had been a long time since the Darcys had invited so many of their family at once, but as there was cause for celebration… Darcy sighed. There was no escape. Fortunately, Bingley and Jane had arrived the previous day as they had only thirty miles to travel. His friend was currently keeping him company whilst their wivesentertained the youngsters. Although Ellie had married and recently welcomed her first child, their remaining six children still lived at home. Even twenty-year-old Master Fitzwilliam still kept his room when he was not improving his mind at Cambridge. Darcy blamed Elizabeth, who had made Pemberley entirely too comfortable for the children to ever desire leaving their childhood home.
“Why are you sighing, old man?”
“Speak for yourself, Bingley. Old man, indeed!” Darcy scoffed. “I am as healthy as an ox and far from old.” Darcy drew a deliberate deep breath to swell his chest. Bingley was about to find out just how well he was: fit as a fiddle and young as a buck. “I find marriage a fountain of youth,” he added cryptically.
“I do not doubt that your vivacious wife is keeping you sprightly,” Bingley remarked with a trace of sarcasm. “I prefer a serene wife for company as I mellow with age.”
“By your speech, one would think you had one foot in the grave already,” Darcy mocked his friend. “What say you to jumping the fence and racing across the field to prove we are not some knock-kneed, square-toed old cuffs.”
Bingley looked at him as if he had grown horns on his head.
“Are you mad! I would rather not add a broken neck to my tired joints and blasted gout.”
“You do not suffer from gout!” Darcy protested, aghast. “Gout is an old man’s illness that particularly afflicts those who spend their days in idle pursuits, which is in itself an unpardonable offence.”
Bingley remained quiet for two long minutes before he leapt to his feet. Darcy overlooked the slight grimace that followed to see what had invigorated his friend.
“Is that not Collins’s carriage?” Bingley asked with affected interest.
“I believe so,” Darcy agreed with less rapture.
The carriage came to a halt before they could tear themselves away from the window. To Darcy’s dismay, it was not only Mr Collins and the parson’s daughter who alighted. From what must have been a cramped and uncomfortable conveyance stepped his old nemesis, along with his wife and son.
“Wickham!” Darcy spat.
Wickham little resembled his old enemy now that his girth had grown almost equal to his height. As an old man, Wickham was no longer a threat to Darcy, or any young maidens. It still irked him that the weasel had ingratiated himself with the rather ignorant Mr Collins after Mr Bennet’s death. He had convinced the parson that he was obligated by honour and the Bennet family bond to lodge his wife and son, which also included the reprobate himself. Mr Collins had let himself be persuaded and had gained three additional mouths to feed. Not that Longbourn would buckle under the weight of the expense.
Mr Collins had hitherto not convinced another lady to marry him after Mrs Collins’s premature demise and might not mind the addition of the Wickhams to his household. Lydia ruled as her mother had, by setting an excellent table though with much fluttering of nerves.
