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Chapter 26
The full moon suspended high above Derbyshire on that gentle autumn night, bathed the grand corridors of the stately manor with soft light.
Inside one of the many ostentatious apartments, her ladyship, who had retired for the evening, sat perched in bed, her head resting on beautifully adorned satin pillows. Closing her book, she placed her spectacles aside and glanced towards her husband of five and thirty years.
“I shall not rest until you confess your new-found adoration of the youngest member of our family.”
The cantankerous aristocrat merely harrumphed. “The precocious lad sees to it that he is impossible to ignore.”
“Indeed, I suspect you were not the least put off.”
Lord Matlock smiled as he recalled Ben’s antics during their stay at Pemberley in Darcy and Elizabeth’s absence. “Indeed. He is witty, even if a bit impertinent. His high-spirited manner provided a refreshing change.”
“I say our nephew has made an excellent match.”
“The young lady brought nothing to the alliance, save herself and her son.”
“I am certain our nephew would not sacrifice what he has found in his wife and her son for all the wealth in the world. His happiness seems beyond measure.”
“Only time will tell,” Lord Matlock offered, still reluctant to embrace the union wholeheartedly.
Lady Matlock leaned forward and placed a loving kiss on her husband’s cheek. “Is your stubbornness to admit our nephew has made an excellent match the reason you insisted Anne remain at Pemberley? What of your earnest desire to bring her to Matlock, so she might continue to recuperate under our care?”
“Did you not recognise the bloom in her countenance when in the company of our son? Even Georgiana is beginning to warm to Anne’s presence.”
“I agree. Georgiana is making a good effort where Anne is concerned. But what does Anne’s apparent admiration for our son have to do with anything?”
“A second son might do far worse than marry an ailing heiress, do you not agree?”
Under the brilliance of the same moon, many miles far south of Derbyshire, Mr. Bennet rested his head atop a firm pillow next to his wife. As she did most often of late, Mrs. Bennet extolled her blessings to anyone who would pay attention. Not for the first time, her husband listened with amusement.
“Thank the lord, our prayers have been answered. Two fine sons-in-law, my Jane rescued from the threshold of spinsterhood, thanks to the benevolence of Mr. Collins. He is such a handsome man! I was sure she could not be so beautiful for nothing!
“And Lizzy, our Lizzy—the mistress of Pemberley! Mr. Darcy has more than ten thousand a year! What fine carriages she shall have! What pin money she shall enjoy.” As if experiencing an epiphany, she sat up and exclaimed, “Our Lizzy will be able to put her younger sisters in the path of many rich gentlemen!”
Mr. Bennet could not help scoffing at his wife’s assertion. “I would not count on it, my dear. Have you forgotten your daughter’s propensity to be selfish and put her own interests before those of the family?”
Mrs. Bennet regarded her husband with some degree of vexation. “Do you not think it is time to give up this foolish vendetta against Lizzy, Mr. Bennet?”
“I am not the one who turned my back against the family time and again. I have no reason to suspect she has changed in that regard.”
“I, for one, have no intention to allow your grudge against Lizzy to interfere in my other daughters’ prospects,” she proclaimed.
My dear Mrs. Bennet, what became of your hopes of seeing the amiable Mr. Bingley as a future son? Have you abandoned those plans completely?”
Again, she looked at her husband, as if he had taken leave of his senses. Did he not know how much she suffered? She blurted, “After his wretched treatment of Jane, I care not the least for Mr. Bingley! I am sure I quite detest the gentleman!”
Mr. Bennet smoothed his pearly grey beard. His eyes twinkled with merriment. “Then you will not be interested to know the master of Netherfield Park is coming down in a day or two to shoot there for several weeks. If our wayward neighbour remains a single man in possession of a good fortune, surely he remains in want of a wife. So you see, my dear, we have no need to rely on Lizzy and the proud Mr. Darcy’s generosity at all.”
This gives me cause to reconsider, thought Mrs. Bennet. She wondered which of her daughters would suit. With Jane out of the question, Mr. Bingley is sure to favour my Lydia.
“My dear Mr. Bennet,” she began, “our daughters being the sisters of the Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley and Derbyshire must increase their odds of making advantageous matches considerably.”
Mr. Bennet continued to rub his hand along his beard. I knew my Lizzy could not be so clever for nothing.
From the heights of Grosvenor Square to the narrow streets of Cheapside, the moon shone just as luminously.
Caroline had not seen Mr. Darcy since he so rudely had expressed his preference for Eliza Carlton over herself. The news of his nuptials with the chit dealt the crushing blow. Her exasperation with her brother, that he had not done more to encourage an alliance between the Darcys and the Bingleys, was increased by the knowledge of his pending travels. “For Heaven’s sake, Charles, why on earth do you insist on spending time in Hertfordshire?”
