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“You ... you cannot!” Mrs. Bennet said, suddenly becoming flustered. “I ... I am not insane! I have friends and relations who testify as to my good character!”

William went around the desk to stand in front of her, leaning to within inches of her face. “I assure you that I most certainly can, and I will. My uncle can have anyone committed to Bedlam, even you.”

Mrs. Bennet swallowed hard, her eyes darting about before finally coming back to settle on him, as he had not moved. “I must have been mistaken, Mr. Darcy. Of course my Lizzy is dead, and besides, she was never pretty enough to capture a fine gentleman like you. Why, you could have married the most beautiful—”

“Mrs. Bennet!” The fierceness of his bellow caused her to cover her ears, and he jerked her hands away from them so she could hear the rest of his declaration. “Your daughter is dead! Have you no regard for her even now?”

At her ignorant, vacant look, he continued, “If you know what is good for you, you will never contact anyone in my family or mention my wife ever again. If I learn that you have so much as breathed her name, I shall not hesitate to have you arrested and the process begun!”

Then he pulled her from the chair and stalked to the door dragging her with him. Opening it, he flung her into the hallway as he addressed the startled footman, “Escort this ... this thing out of my house!”

Mrs. Bennet recovered her balance as she was escorted towards the front entrance as fast as her trembling legs would allow. Once there, Barnes swiftly opened the door, and she hesitated only long enough to turn and meet William’s eyes.

“I swear I shall never mention Mrs. Darcy again. You have my solemn vow.”

“Do not mention Elizabeth Bennet either!” William shouted angrily.

“Of course! Of course! Not Lizzy either! You are right! Not a word! Not another word.” She was still babbling as she backed out the door which was then slammed shut in her face.

So it was that William had to tell Elizabeth that night of her mother’s visit to Darcy House and of the coach accident that claimed her life. As he feared, she broke down and cried like a child, so he gently picked her up and sat with her in his lap on the settee before the fire. There he soothed her with words of love and devotion as she hid her face in his chest, occasionally weeping anew. Finally having quieted, she looked up and he cradled her face, kissing all traces of tears away.

“I am not crying for my mother, though I suppose somewhere inside I should feel something. I am crying because I never had a mother.”

William lovingly ran his hands up and down her back in a sign of his devotion, and she placed a soft kiss on his mouth before she continued.

“Just this day, your aunt offered me a place in her heart as a daughter. Do you know how often I wished to talk to my own mother as mothers and daughters do? How ironic that on the day that Frances Bennet died, I gained a mother.”

~~~*~~~

Later, as she lay in William’s embrace, his arms locked tightly about her as though by holding her in this manner he could protect her, she cried once more with the realisation that she was finally free. Elizabeth Bennet was no more. She could finally be put to rest along with the woman who had made her life miserable.

~~~*~~~

Chapter 46

Pemberley

Saturday

Eighteen Months later

1816, July 14

Mr. Williamson felt completely at peace as he climbed the grand staircase in the very early hours, knowing he was right where God wanted him to be. He nodded to Mrs. Reynolds who passed him heading the opposite direction in an upstairs hallway. She smiled, stopping to ask if she could be of service. But with his assertion that he did not need a thing, she went on with her duties, paying him no mind. After all, he was just another member of the family now. He smiled, reflecting on his good fortune.

Who would have believed that I would spend my last days surrounded by such splendour, in the company of the woman I have always regarded as a daughter and others I have come to love through knowing her?

Now that his health required that he retire from all but occasional pastoral duties, Lizzybet had insisted he reside with them, but he had refused to invade their privacy or to give up his independence. So William had a nice-sized cottage built not a mile from the manor. The vicar chuckled to recall the reason William had given for selecting the location, though he would wager that William had not repeated it to his wife.

“You will be far enough removed to have some peace and quiet and close enough to join in the chaos, if you dare, when all of our family converges! And, besides, I might need to visit you occasionally to enjoy the silence.”

Yes, the cottage is so close that I may walk over anytime my legs decide to cooperate with my wishes, or use the ponies and phaeton that William insists on having at my disposal if they do not.

And he had to admit that when all of the Darcys’ extended family—the Ingrams, Bingleys and Fitzwilliams—were at Pemberley, it could become quite boisterous.

And that is not even taking into account the clamour the children create!

Mr. Williamson considered the growing number of children that would converge on Pemberley tomorrow, and that brought to mind his namesake, Master Fitzwilliam Thomas John Darcy—the dark-haired blue-eyed miniature replica of his father, whose first birthday was being celebrated the next day. He marvelled at the realisation that this birthday would mean the arrival of almost every member of the aforementioned families—some already ensconced in the family quarters, while others who lived nearby would arrive in time for the church services tomorrow.