Page 135 of The Crown’s Gift

For much of the day, Sir Thomas answered letters. The Queen had died in November 1818, so no familiar hand would write from Windsor. A secretary to the new King sent formal acknowledgment of Sir Thomas's old service. Colonel Fitzwilliam wrote with personal sympathy. Darcy's letter promised the family would come south as soon as winter roads permitted.

By evening Sir Thomas had said little of grief.

Lady Bennet found him in the library beneath the framed message.

A life well used is thanks enough.

"You should eat."

"I shall."

"You said that at noon."

He looked at her. "I remember his face when he breathed again. Not the portraits. The surprise. As if air had become something miraculous because it was briefly absent."

Lady Bennet sat beside him. "I remember your face when the swords touched you."

"I made a joke in the carriage."

"A poor one."

"Most are."

"Not most. Some."

He covered her hand. "I was afraid to admit I had nearly left you."

"Then you spent eighteen years admitting it differently."

The first family members arrived two days later from Hazelwood and London. Pemberley's party reached Netherfield after a week. Elizabeth entered the library without announcement, as she had from childhood, and found her father at the window.

"Papa."

He turned. She crossed the room and embraced him.

Darcy followed with Anne and Eleanor. Anne, now eight, understood death enough to become solemn. Eleanor, five, understood that Grandpapa was sad and offered him a biscuit saved from the carriage.

Sir Thomas accepted it.

"The King saved your life," Anne said.

"Your mother has confused the story."

"She says you saved his, and then he saved yours by making you wake up."

Sir Thomas met Elizabeth's eyes.

"I used simpler language," she said.

"Apparently not."

The whole family attended the memorial service in Meryton. Mr Lucas had died the previous year; his son delivered no public account of the rescue. For once, the assembly rooms and church held the story in silence.

After the service, Sir Thomas walked to the old oak with Darcy and Elizabeth. The iron rail was rusted. One plaque still claimed the dislodged sugar plum travelled twelve feet.

"It fell near Mr Lucas's shoe," Sir Thomas said.

"History prefers distance," Darcy replied.