Page 134 of The Crown’s Gift

For lives preserved, duties awakened, and families attended.

After the planting, everyone walked into Meryton. The assembly rooms still hosted the annual account of the King's rescue. Mr Lucas, older and no less enthusiastic, told the story to visitors. In his version, Sir Thomas crossed thirty feet through a wall of guards, caught the King as he fell, and forced the sugar plum across the room with a blow heard in London.

"It improves yearly," Darcy murmured.

"By the twentieth anniversary, Papa will fly," Elizabeth said.

Sir Thomas heard. "I object only to the direction."

Inside the assembly room, Anne and Emma stood where their grandfather had once placed a plate into Elizabeth's hands.

"Was Grandpapa afraid?" Emma asked.

"Yes," Elizabeth said.

"But brave people are not afraid."

"Brave people act while afraid. Your grandpapa did that once for the King and many times afterward for us."

Sir Thomas looked away.

Darcy put a hand on his shoulder. "You cannot object to accuracy."

"I object to public accuracy."

The family returned to Netherfield for dinner. Noise filled the house: children, music, Lydia's laughter, Lady Bennet's instructions, Bingley asking Jane where Thomas's blanket had gone, Mary discussing a new composition with Georgiana, Kitty sketching the oak from memory.

Sir Thomas stood outside the drawing room.

Once, a closed door had protected his solitude. Now the open door framed everything he might have missed.

Lady Bennet saw him and called, "Mr Bennet, do not stand there. Eleanor has your spectacles."

He entered.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

A Life Well Used

News of King George's death reached Netherfield on a cold February morning in 1820.

Sir Thomas was sixty-eight. His hair had gone silver, his left knee objected to wet weather, and he still rode the estate three mornings each week because Morris's successor required correction.

The newspaper lay beside his breakfast plate.

Lady Bennet saw the black border and stopped speaking.

Sir Thomas read the notice once. The King had died at Windsor after years lost within illness. The nation mourned a sovereign many had not seen in public for nearly a decade. The Prince Regent was now George IV.

"He is gone," Lady Bennet said.

"He has been gone from himself a long while."

"I know. Yet now he is truly gone."

"No."

She came around the table and stood behind his chair, both hands upon his shoulders.