Page 85 of Sweet on Mr Darcy

“It is easy enough to protect her fortune,” Darcy Senior agreed. “He is not a fortune hunter, for he possesses enough to purchase his own estate. And he seems like a decent, sincere sort of man. My son would never associate with him if he was anything less.”

Mrs Hurst had barely been seen near the Bennet family since her younger sister was sent away. She entertained more now that her brother was no longer wrapped up in Darcy’s concerns. Accordingly, the Bennets had not been included in invitations among those Mrs Hurst befriended in the assembly rooms. Now, watching her brother seriously pursue a prize heiress with superior family connections, she had transformed herself into astonishing agreeability.

It was an extraordinary development. Mrs Hurst sat as near to Lady Matlock as possible, praising Anne’s improvements in strength and dancing; Georgiana’s accomplishments; Priscilla’s elegance; the superiority of Derbyshire; and declaring her desire to see the great estates and landscapes about Hunsford. Mr Hurst–persuaded to drink less and stay awake for the sake of appearances–and willing to do so in the absence of his sister-in-law’s unpleasant conversation, showed interest only in the refreshments and silence. He found the food and Lady Barry’s hospitality quite agreeable, and when he did speak, he declared it to be an excellent afternoon.

The local guests and neighbours wandered the gardens of Nethercourt House in perpetual excitement. Not merely at the engagement of Lizzy-girl and Darcy-boy. But at Lady Barry herself. She was entertaining and even openly conversing. Accepting the company of others…a rare spectacle. It was nearly biblical in significance.

One elderly gentleman finally addressed her: “Lady Barry, I cannot recall the last occasion on which these gardens held so much company. It is a pleasure to see Nethercourt House alive and the green full of guests.”

Lady Barry looked around. At Lizzy-girl and Darcy-boy. At Lady Anne’s daughter, radiant with happiness. At Reggie’s boy, diligently courting a fine young woman. At the cheerful group of friends and family celebrating her favourite young people. And her expression softened despite herself.

“Neither can I,” she admitted. She then recovered rapidly. “And if any of you become sentimental about it, I shall have you all removed.”

Later, Darcy and Elizabeth found themselves briefly alone near the edge of the gardens overlooking the sea. The noise of the other guests buzzed warmly behind them.

Darcy looked at her in awe of her lively loveliness and the beauty of her fine eyes. “Are you happy?”

Elizabeth beamed up at him. “Ridiculously. Can you not tell?”

“I must admit it thrills me to hear you say it,” he confessed. “It was kind of Lady Barry to give an engagement party for us.”

She slipped her hand into his arm. “Lady Barry truly believes you are the only man in England who is worthy of me.”

Darcy considered this with a grin. “She is a remarkably perceptive lady.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Do not become insufferable. She will box your ears.”

“I will not complain, as long as you are obliged to put up with me,” he teased.

Elizabeth only smiled and leaned a little closer as they walked slowly back toward the party together. “I suppose there are worse fates than being plagued for life by a man with excellent taste in sweets.”

~The End~

Epilogue

Friday 20 June 1817

Elizabeth Darcy leaned against the window at Darcy Cottage and breathed in the salty sea air. Dressed in black crepe, she was in full mourning, and would be for six months as she grieved for her father-in-law. George Darcy had died in his bed at Darcy Cottage, where his memories of Lady Anne and their family brought him the most happiness. He had remained mostly well–but with the usual weakness of his heart–right until his end, when he passed quite unexpectedly in his sleep.

Of course, George Darcy loved Pemberley as well. Everyone loved Pemberley. How could they not? He had given his life to his estate, but Darcy Cottage was where he and Lady Anne had retreated each summer. To rest and restore themselves. To play with their children, and be content and carefree.

Elizabeth and Darcy held the same affection for the place, for at the bottom of the stairs was the memory of their tempestuous first meeting. The front garden, the memory of his desperate apology. The coast, the lanes, the meadows, and the cliffs held the memories of their early morning walks. The confectioner’s shop held the memories of dozens of sweet confectionery adventures, and the day they had committed to their happiness, and to each other.

Despite the temperatures of the season, Darcy would lay his father nowhere other than Pemberley, next to his dear mother. He refused to allow Elizabeth and the children to accompany him north for the endeavour. Elizabeth was still nursing six-month-old Bennet George. Their three year old twins, Anne Elizabeth and Josephine Isobel, were too young to take them back on a four day journey, for they had been in Ramsgate for only three weeks. A memorial was held in Ramsgate just before Darcy escorted his father home, and a proper funeral would be held when George Darcy was laid to rest in Derbyshire.

“It is too soon to expect you and Bennet to travel again, and we would have to remain, for we could not bring the children back and forth so many times in one season,” Darcy had insisted. “I would prefer to mourn my father here when I return to you. Richard and Ashley will accompany me, and Lord Matlock awaits us in Derbyshire. Your father and family are meant to arrive in only a few days, and will bring us both much comfort and company. Wait here for me with Georgiana. I will return in a fortnight.”

The last five years had been blissful. The birth of the girls was a time of great happiness for all, and Elizabeth gave thanks every day that her father-in-law had been with them long enough to meet his grandson, even if only for a little while. They had spent little time in London once Elizabeth was presented alongside Anne, and spent a season becoming known to society. They divided most of their time between Pemberley, Ramsgate, and occasionally Netherfield.

The fortnight had now almost passed, and though Elizabeth missed her husband fiercely, she had to acknowledge that he was correct. The coming of Mr and Mrs Bennet and her brothers, one six and one four, and twenty-one-year-old Lydia, had been a great comfort, and Elizabeth was grateful to spend the summer with them, as she often did.

Georgiana, though sad for the loss of her father, preferred to remain in Ramsgate, for it kept her closer to her betrothed. The young woman had fallen in love with Walter Nibsby, the youngest son of the magistrate, the year before, and was enduring a rather long engagement. When they finally married, they would take up residence at Rose Cottage–which was next door to Darcy Cottage–and had been left to Georgiana in Lady Barry’s will two years before.

Elizabeth refused to be sad about the loss of Lady Barry. It was true that she missed her friend terribly every year when she visited Ramsgate. But Lady Barry had lived to a great age. While she may not have had the good fortune to marry for love, or even like her husband, and she had suffered the loss of her only beloved daughter, she had enjoyed the high regard of Isobel’s friends, and the sincere affection of their children. The young Darcys, Fitzwilliams, and Anne de Bourgh doted upon her like a grandmother, as did the daughters of the only family she tolerated from Meryton.

When the summer of 1812 passed, Lady Barry returned to her usual reclusive habits, but her door swung wide for any Bennet daughter, or any child of Catherine, Reginald, or Anne Fitzwilliam. In fact, she surprisingly became closest with Richard, whose duties brought him to the garrisons of Ramsgate several times a year, and he visited her quite often. Like herself, Richard was cynical of people, had a great fondness for mischief and humour, and he kept her laughing despite herself each time he entered her drawing room. They all wrote to her often, and even Mr Bennet received a grudging welcome each summer when he brought his family to visit the Darcys in Ramsgate.

Charles and Anne Bingley would arrive the following week and take up their own cottage. Jane Fitzwilliam was already in residence at Darcy Cottage, though Mary and Kitty would not travel this year, for they were both in the family way. Jane had been left a cottage by Lady Barry as well, though this summer she intended to stay with her sister, to bring Elizabeth comfort after the Darcys’ loss. Elizabeth was grateful to be surrounded by her family in Ramsgate, and found solace in the healing powers of the fresh sea air. Though they would not entertain or accept invitations, the Darcys would be as content as a family in mourning could be this summer.