Estate of Rockhill
Bees droned around the abandoned, ruined house and wildly overgrown garden, jostling with the butterflies and wasps as they crept into the abundance of blooming flowers. Early morning sun slanted down, unhindered by the puffs of cloud scattered across the sky, to paint the scene in a warm serenity broken only by the people wandering about outside the ramshackle building. The Earl of Chartham had come out to inspect his parsonage, bringing with him his father, his cousins Mary and Elizabeth, and Mr. Darcy. None of them liked what they had found.
"Oh dear," Elizabeth said unhappily.
"Yes, it was probably a pleasant house in its day," Mr. Darcy agreed, gazing disapprovingly at the parsonage at Rockhill, "but years of neglect have made it a most unsound structure."
Mary Bennet sighed, "It is most regrettable that the previous Lord Chartham was so irresponsible in his duties to both his rector and his tenants."
"It is," Mr. Gardiner agreed darkly.
Lord Chartham's expression was also disapproving, and he said, "For now, the curate, Mr. Smith, is living in the lodgings we are renting on his behalf in Knoll's Wood, but we must decide whether to try to refurbish this building or find a new parsonage for him. Ideally, he should live near the mansion itself so that he can better attend to his parishioners."
"The house has a lovely aspect," Elizabeth murmured, wandering to the side yard. "How far does the glebe extend?"
Darcy followed her eagerly around the corner of the house, out of sight of the others. "I believe, perhaps, to that tree line?"
She nodded and walked toward the wilderness where a garden once grew. Weeds had rapidly moved in and sprouted up in the unattended plot. They had conquered many of the tended plants that once ruled there, but others, restrained no longer by a diligent gardener's hand, had thrived and grown wild, spilling over from their beds to squat amongst their neighbors. She could see, in the tangled foliage, at least a few spinach plants fighting their way through the weeds, and squash vines ran riot.
"This would be a fine place for the curate to live," she commented aloud, her eyes on the distant trees. "Perhaps the Earl would be willing to build a small but functional house given that Mr. Smith is but a single man. If it were built properly, perhaps additional rooms could be added on with time."
Darcy looked around hastily. No one was in sight, which meant that this was his opportunity to ask the woman he adored for her hand in marriage. He had longed to propose many times in the last week, but he had never had sufficient privacy for the purpose. Nor did he wish to openly ask for a few minutes of her time, as he did not want to embarrass her if she was not yet ready to accept his offer.
"Miss Bennet?" he said breathlessly.
She turned to him now, her expression open and warm, and he felt his heart leap in his chest.
"Miss Bennet, I love you, admire you, and respect you," he said simply. "Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
Elizabeth, who had indeed been waiting for a proposal with mounting impatience, laughed with joy and gladness. "Yes, Mr. Darcy. Yes, I would be honored to become your wife!"
/
Rockhill
A few days later
"You are certain you are comfortable staying here with Kitty, Mary?" Elizabeth asked worriedly.
Mary was busy helping her sister pack up her trunk and she nodded at her older sister, "I am very happy here at Rockhill, Elizabeth. I enjoy being …"
She trailed off and Elizabeth waited patiently. A moment later, her silence was rewarded.
"I have a different persona here," Mary continued softly, walking over to the bedroom window and looking out at the copse of elm trees at the edge of the lawn. "I am not the plain one, or the studious one, or even the accomplished one. It has been very refreshing."
Elizabeth slipped up next to her and looped an arm around Mary. "I completely understand. I too realize that at Longbourn I have fit into a particular mold. Our time here with our relations has allowed me to embrace different aspects of my personality and nature."
They were silent for a long moment, contemplating the past weeks at the Rockhill estate, when Kitty appeared from a path through the woods. Their younger sister was riding Daisy, Rebekah's white mare, and her cousin Alexander was riding beside her on Kestrel. The two were talking volubly and excitedly, and based on their gestures, it seemed they were speaking of the finer points of jumping. Behind them rode Lady Rebekah on a bay mare which, Elizabeth knew from her cousin Alexander's enthusiastic comments, was a fine stepper but much livelier than the calm Daisy.
"Rockhill has been very good for Kitty as well," Mary murmured. "She is far more sober and well mannered, but also less …"
"Fractious? Irritable? Anxious?" Elizabeth suggested.
"All those things," Mary agreed with a sigh. "I will miss Rockhill, and our relations, very much when it is time to leave."
"And our cousin, Philip, especially, perhaps?" Elizabeth asked shrewdly.
Mary winced and turned away, causing her sister to bite her lip in contrition. "I am sorry, Mary."
"Is it so obvious?" Mary asked softly.
"To anyone else, no, I think not. But I have been your sister for your entire life."
To Elizabeth's disappointment, this won no answering smile from Mary.
"It is hopeless," the girl said instead. "I am not beautiful like the rest of you, not charming, and certainly not particularly accomplished. He is an earl, and I am but the third daughter of a country gentleman. I used to think my musical talent was my greatest gift but I know better now."
"Mary," Elizabeth said gently, "Cousin Philip is a virtuoso on the pianoforte. I doubt there are many in England as gifted as he is."
"Miss Darcy is much better than I am, along with being prettier, well connected, and an heiress."
Elizabeth sighed, wishing she had not brought this all up. It seemed cruel that Jane and Elizabeth had both won the love of good and kindly men and Mary was in love with someone she felt, at least, was out of reach.
"Are you quite sure you can bear being here?" she asked tenderly.
Mary nodded and said, "I may never win Cousin Philip's heart, but I believe that I am a help to him. He has come to me more than once to discuss issues pertaining to the tenantry and my experience at Longbourn, admittedly more limited than your own, has been useful. Besides, Kitty is better off here than in Lydia's orbit."
"You will all be returning to Hertfordshire in a few weeks for my wedding," Elizabeth pointed out.
"Even a few more weeks will be good for her," Mary said quietly, "and for Lydia as well. Please send me a letter as soon as possible about how Mother and Father and Lydia are doing, especially Lydia."
"I will, Mary. Thank you for looking after Kitty."
"It is my honor."
/
Bath
Miss Caroline Bingley stared forlornly out the front window of the drawing room in her Aunt Cynthia's lodgings. Her aunt, the widow of a successful tradesman, had settled in the Edgar Buildings in the fashionable part of town some years ago. Mrs. Cynthia Woodsworth enjoyed a pleasant, if not lavish, social life and visited the Pump Room on a regular basis to drink the famous, if rather unpleasant tasting, waters. She was a kind woman with reasonably elegant manners, but she was also remarkably blunt with her children – all of whom had married and lived some distance away – and miscellaneous relatives.
"You had much better accept Mr. Brantley," the older woman commented, busily knitting a blue sock.
"I will not," Caroline replied coldly, her eyes fixed on a fashionable phaeton driving briskly by with a handsome gentleman at the reins. "He stinks of the shop."
Mrs. Woodsworth heaved a long suffering sigh and said, "Caroline, your own father was a man of trade, as was my dear Robert. You are being foolish, my girl. You are already two and twenty and have received no eligible offers, in spite of your sophisticated manners and your finishing school education. Really, with a dowry of twenty thousand pounds, you could have married several years ago!"
Her niece bit her lip hard enough to nearly draw blood. Only yesterday, she had received a letter from an acquaintance in Town who claimed that Mr. Darcy was engaged. The lucky lady's name was unknown, but if it were true, and likely it was since Miss Anna Ralston was the first to hear the latest gossip, all Caroline's hopes of being mistress of Pemberley were at an end.
"Mr. Brantley is a kind man," Mrs. Woodsworth continued in an encouraging tone. "He will be a good husband and provide for you well."
Caroline shook her head, her eyes filling with angry tears. She was beautiful, rich, and accomplished. She would not settle for anyone but a gentleman. She would not!
/
Matlock House
London
June
Elizabeth Bennet looked out of the well-sprung carriage toward the passing scenery. She had rarely been in this section of Town before, away from the mercantile bustle, and the houses of the lower classes rubbing elbows. Here instead, ostentatious mansions sat gracefully in the midst of carefully tended parks on either side of well-paved roads.
Mr. Darcy had come around in his fine carriage to the house of Elizabeth's uncle Edward Gardiner in Gracechurch Street, with Miss Darcy along as a chaperone. They were on their way to visit the Darcys' uncle and aunt, the Earl of Matlock and his wife. Elizabeth was glad that they had set out in the morning, for fine as the carriage was, it was unpleasantly warm already. The day was hot and promised to only get hotter, and she found herself thinking in wistful anticipation of the cooling breezes in Hertfordshire.
"Are you nervous, Elizabeth?" Georgiana asked suddenly.
Elizabeth turned and looked across the carriage in surprise, first meeting the eyes of her beloved Fitzwilliam before her gaze slid over to Miss Darcy, who would soon be her sister by marriage.
"Nervous about what?" Elizabeth asked curiously.
"About meeting my uncle Matlock and his family."
"Oh! No, not at all."
Georgiana twitched and glanced at Darcy, who said, "Elizabeth is already well aware that the Lord and Lady Matlock are not be pleased at our engagement."
"I cannot blame them," Elizabeth said cheerfully. "I know that your brother could have found a well-connected, wealthy bride from the very best circles and that I am a disappointment."
Darcy opened his mouth at these words, and Elizabeth lifted a staying hand. "But, I hope that they will realize in time that we are a wonderfully compatible match, that we truly love and respect one another and will be happy together. If they do not, that is their loss, not mine. I am not afraid of them or their disapprobation, I assure you, Georgiana."
Georgiana stared at Miss Bennet in wonder. Oh, to have such strength of will and courage!
"Moreover," Elizabeth continued, with the arch smile which Darcy loved so much, "I am quite confident that if Lord Matlock resorts to throwing rotten eggs in protest of our engagement, your brother will boldly and bravely stand in the way to protect me."
The image that formed in Georgiana's mind at these words, of her stately uncle throwing smelly eggs, caused her first to giggle, and then to laugh, which in turn provoked her brother and Elizabeth to laugh with her. When the carriage drew to a halt in front of the white stone steps which led up to Matlock House's imposing door, Georgiana was far more at ease. The Matlocks might well be unpleasant, but Elizabeth would rise above it all.