Lydia and Kitty had both married and settled in distant counties, their visits to Longbourn becoming increasingly infrequent. Their absence was felt, but the letters they sent spoke of contented lives and growing families.
Mrs. Bennet sat forward in her chair, hands clasped in rapture as she watched the two children in the corner—her grandson toddling after Small Jane with as much dignity as his little boots could muster. “Look at them,” she said breathlessly, as if witnessing the first rays of dawn. “So dear. So companionable. Do you see how he lets her lead? And she does it with such authority—like a true lady. It would not surprise me in the least if they took a particular liking to each other. Mark my words, there is promise in that pairing.”
Jane nearly dropped her teacup. “Mama, they are three.”
Mrs. Bennet waved a hand as if Jane had missed the point entirely. “And yet so advanced for their age. I only observe. It is a very fine beginning.”
Darcy, who had been studying his daughter’s regal little posture as she directed her companion to ‘guard the tea cakes,’ let out a quiet laugh. “A very fine beginning, indeed.”
Elizabeth turned to him slowly, one brow raised with suspicion. “Are you encouraging her?”
He lifted his teacup to hide a smile. “I am saying only that she has a discerning eye.”
“For mischief,” Elizabeth murmured.
Darcy tilted his head thoughtfully, watching Jane gesture to William as if conducting a miniature parliament. “Yes, and for strategy.”
Mr. Bennet, having observed the exchange with amusement, rose and moved to the sideboard. “Well, let us toast to the future, whatever it may hold.” He poured generous measures of port, distributing the glasses among the adults.
Bingley lifted his glass, his expression turning earnest. “To family and enduring friendships.”
“Hear, hear,” Darcy concurred, the warmth of the moment settling comfortably around him.
“How are the renovations at Pemberley coming along?” Bingley asked. “It has been nearly four years since you reclaimed the estate, and I imagine much has been accomplished.”
Darcy’s demeanor brightened at the mention of his home. “Indeed, much has been done, though there remains work ahead. The east wing has been fully restored, and the gardens are finally beginning to resemble their former glory. Mitchels says the orchard is recovering at last from ten years of neglect, so we expect a bounty this autumn, and we were able to purchase back two tenant farms that had been sold off. I regret to say the cottages both required extensive repairs, but all will be well in hand before winter. As for the drawing rooms and the study—you recall the state they were in before? You would hardly know them now. We have focused on preserving the character of the estate while incorporating some modern comforts.”
Elizabeth smoothed her hand over his. “And the library has become a particular point of pride. My husband has taken great care in curating a collection that would rival any in England.”
Darcy glanced at his wife, his heart fit to burst at his wife’s tender boasts, and trying for all his might not to let it be obvious. He probably failed. “It is a joint endeavor. Elizabeth’s discerning taste has been invaluable in selecting volumes that enrich our collection.”
Mrs. Bennet clasped her hands together, sighing contentedly. “Oh, how wonderful it is to hear of Pemberley restored and thriving once more. You have both done a remarkable job, I am sure.”
Darcy inclined his head. “Thank you, Mrs. Bennet. It has been a labor of love, and sharing it with family makes it all the more rewarding. I do hope you will all join us for Christmas this year. We feel it is finally fit to serve guests once more.”
The lady of the house looked fit to swoon. “Oh, how splendid! We shall all come—shall we not, Mr. Bennet? Even Kitty might be coaxed to make the journey, if she believes there shall be music and mince pies.”
Mr. Bennet gave a long-suffering sigh, but his eyes gleamed. “I shall come, so long as you promise not to force me to discuss lace and bows and the like while we are there.”
“My dear, you do try my patience!” the lady sighed. And then she giggled.
Elizabeth laughed, tucking her arm through Darcy’s. “I believe you are safe on that score.”
Jane turned to whisper something to her husband, then stood, already gathering her son’s little hand in hers. “Come, William. It is time we were back at Netherfield before the lamps are lit.”
William groaned softly but obeyed, sleepily peeking up at Small Jane on the way out and whispering something about her toy pony.
“Goodnight,” Jane said warmly, embracing Elizabeth. “We shall see you tomorrow.”
Mary stood as well, and Elizabeth rose to embrace her. “Come back tomorrow,” she said. “You shall help me officiate the rematch.”
Darcy frowned. “Rematch? What is this?”
“I refer to your imminent defeat, and the vain hope you will cherish of vindicating yourself tomorrow,” Elizabeth said, brushing his lapel. “We all know Mr. Bennet is going to trounce you at the chess board this evening. It is tradition now to keep score, as if it were sport.”
“You mean to say you have been documenting my misfortunes?”
“Meticulously,” Jane added sweetly.
