The audience was roaring as the wagon-driving clown raced haphazardly about the arena, finally skidding to a halt near the “unconscious” clown, tipping the wagon and unceremoniously dumping the English clown onto the grass. Acting in pantomime, the outraged Englishman righted himself, scolding the contrite clown who rushed to assist him in dusting off and fixing his clothing and retrieving his spilled accessories, wreaking havoc with every move while the Englishman grew further comically incensed. Gathering his belongings, a mammoth black leather physician's bag and cracked monocle, also ridiculously large, the English clown was unveiled as a doctor arriving to revive the fallen clown. Opening his bag and randomly extracting a number of strange metal devices, including decidedly non-medical items like a quill, spoon, shoehorn, toothbrush, and more, the doctor attempted to examine his clown patient. Naturally, he was hindered by the fumbling assistance of the other clown, who constantly tripped, handed him the wrong instrument, punched and poked, stabbed with the quill, and on and on.

It was absolutely hysterical, not a soul in the audience without tears from laughing. The stricken clown was eventually cured by the good doctor, so ecstatic to be alive that he tumbled and jumped and vaulted about the arena, launching into the seats to delightedly pat and hug and tease the audience. More clowns joined the fray, capering through the people and playing tricks. For another half an hour, they interacted with the onlookers in various humorous ways: tweaking noses, discovering hidden coins behind ears and in pockets, tickling, pulling endless ribbons of scarves from sleeves, and so on. The entire ring was a multihued plethora of other clowns falling over each other, running on spinning barrels, juggling balls and clubs and even knives, dazzling with magical sleights-of-hand, and performing daring acrobatics. It was an astounding pageant, the perfect crescendo to the trio of stunning entertainments. Not a soul was left wanting as full darkness descended and the guests laughingly wandered toward the food pavilion for sustenance before dancing.

People were randomly weaving their way to the grassy flatland alongside the lake where the orchestra platform was stationed. Kitty began bouncing on her toes while Georgiana grew paler by the second, Richard laughing at both the girls who tightly clutched his arms for very different reasons. Leaving the others on the edges of the assembling dancers, Darcy escorted his wife to the platform, stepped upon the raised dais, and walked to the middle. He stood quietly; the Master of Pemberley poised domineeringly and aristocratically with his exquisitely genteel wife at his side, linked arm in arm. Darcy had no need to say a word, the crowd respectfully quieting instantly under the gaze of their Master.

“Mrs. Darcy and I are delighted to see you all enjoying yourselves. If I may be granted a moment to interrupt the festivities,” he paused and smiled slightly, “and I do promise it shall only be a moment.” Hushed laughter spread through the company. Darcy continued in his resonant voice, lifted loudly to reach the press of people, “The majority of you have served the Darcy family for long years, decades in many instances. Your faithful employment and devotion has persevered unwaveringly and undeterred. Those of you who remember the Festivals of the past know that it was an essential part of Pemberley life. A sincere offering by the Darcy family to express our appreciation for your dedicated and arduous labor. For too many years, grief has ruled the Manor and these communications of our thanks have been suspended. I am thrilled beyond measure to stand before you as Master and proclaim that grief is unequivocally an emotion of the past. Therefore, it is with tremendous joy that I and Mrs. Darcy,” he glanced to Elizabeth with a beaming smile, “the Mistress of Pemberley, welcome you formally to the first of many years of celebrations. With that declaration, let the party resume!”

The congregation cheered, clapping enthusiastically. Darcy turned to the orchestra, signaling them to begin, then bowed deeply to his wife and extended his hand formally. Elizabeth curtseyed, clasping his hand as he led her onto the dance floor, assuming the first place in the line. The orchestra launched into a lively gavotte, couples rapidly filling the space. Charles escorted his wife, Kitty was with Colonel Fitzwilliam, Dr. Penaflor partnered Anne de Bourgh, and Dr. Darcy dragged Georgiana. Unfortunately, the odd number of men to women in their company meant that Caroline was left alone. Luckily, she did not particularly care, the idea of dancing on the grass with a mass of commoners not overly appealing to her.

When the music ended on an upbeat note and blaring crescendo from the orchestra, the crowd erupted again into hurrahs and applause primarily directed toward the Darcys. Darcy bowed, offering his arm once again to his wife, and together they regally departed the scene. Strolling casually toward the Manor, they halted frequently to nod or converse briefly with a guest. Darcy sought out the head groundskeeper, Mr. Clark, and shared a whispered conversation with a couple of gestures toward the distant inky outline of the Greek Temple. Darcy nodded in satisfaction, reacquiring his wife's hand to resume their slow ramble, and they finally reached the sanctuary of the terrace.

Darcy had made it very clear to Lizzy that it would be highly improper for the Master and Mistress to invade the festivities or mingle overly with the attendees. She had been skeptical at first, but as he explained it, her understanding grew.

“First of all,” he had told her, “they will not be able to fully relax and enjoy themselves if I am hovering nearby. Since the purpose of the Festival is to extend our thankfulness in the form of their complete gratification, it would be remiss of us to deter said gratification by creating an atmosphere of unease by our presence. I want them to forget, for a time, that they are servants or employees. Secondly, at the risk of being branded haughty and arrogant, it is unsuitable for us to mingle socially with our servants.” Lizzy had frowned slightly and Darcy had taken her hand. “I know you abhor such distinctions, Elizabeth, and a part of me agrees with you. Nonetheless, it is the world we live in and for all that it may seem unkind or pompous, these class divisions have served our country well for hundreds of years. Even if I wished to alter it, and I in truth cannot say I do, few would follow my lead. Most importantly, our servants and tenants would be the loudest protesters! They are comfortable and well cared for, therefore having no wish to deviate from the status quo.”

Lizzy had assented to his decision, although not wholly agreeing with his assessment of their reception. Tonight, however, as they ambled amongst the people, she had noted clearly the immediate stiffening and mask of formality that fell over each face as they approached. Gazing out over the boisterous, clusters of folk and comparing that with the instantaneous decorum and tenseness that ensued upon the presence of the Darcys, Lizzy finally comprehended. In a strange way, it was the last turn of the key, the final stroke of the axe which severed her old way of thinking and completed her transition into the Mistress of Pemberley.

Now, she happily flopped onto the sofa, suddenly tired and desirous of the solitude found in the shadows. Few lights had been lit, mostly those glowing from inside the parlor, yet the location of the raised terrace offered a panoramic view of the grounds. Darcy dragged a chair over and lifted her feet onto it.

“There,” he said. “Are you comfortable, love?”

“Yes,” she answered with a laugh, “but why the chair?”

“You have been on your feet for hours and the book states that pregnant women's feet can swell.” Lizzy glanced to her perfectly slender and tiny feet but chose not to point the fact out. Darcy continued, “I am going to pour myself a brandy. Do you wish for anything?”

“A small glass of wine would be lovely, thank you, dear.” He kissed her forehead and disappeared into the house. Lizzy sighed contentedly, rising to retrieve several remaining meat rolls and a croissant from the dinner table. Darcy returned shortly and they sat quietly, nibbling and sipping as the revelry persisted.

From their hidden vantage point, they could espy most of what transpired on the dance area. Richard was occupied for each dance, the man apparently tireless. Lizzy had delighted to see him lately in attire other than his military uniform. She adored Richard and thought him a handsome man—naturally not as much as her husband, but a fine figure in any suit. Today, as yesterday, he had dressed casually but nonetheless regally, in snug pantaloons of beige and a jacket of russet and gold. Dr. Penaflor had worn shades of grey with a waistcoat of forest green, all designed to accentuate his exotic darkness. He primarily squired Anne, although careful to accompany every other woman as well. Anne was beautiful in a gown of blue and white, modestly cut but not as severe as the majority of her gowns. Naturally, George drew the most attention in his vibrant fuchsia, dancing with feline grace and refinement. Georgiana appeared to relax with each subsequent turn on the floor, none of the gentlemen allowing her to evade. Even Caroline had apparently relinquished her disdain, as Darcy noted her frequently partnered with each man.

For three hours, Darcy and Lizzy reclined in isolation, happily observing the fun. They talked softly, kissed frequently, and cuddled. On occasion, they were visited by someone from the party, usually seeking brief respite and refreshment, only to be snatched away forthwith by a seeking dance partner. There were enough interruptions for Darcy and Lizzy to curb their improper urges, maintaining a regulated decorum in their mild intimacy.

As the midnight hour approached and the orchestra announced the last two sets, anticipation for the final crescendo to the Festival began to rise. Upon entrance to the party, the Darcys had informed each guest to, if possible, remain until after the dancing as they had a special treat planned. None knew what to expect, but based on the grand exhibitions and entertainments offered thus far, the fever pitch of expectation was high.

The last dance ended to extended applause for the outstanding musicians. Folks wandered about in small groupings, not sure what to expect or where to look. Darcy rose to stand prominently at the terrace railing, Lizzy embraced tightly to his chest, both gazing toward the dark knoll above the Cascade Falls, the intermittent flicker of light visible if one attended to the area. Within fifteen minutes word had spread, folks noting the direction the Darcys were staring and turning to peer curiously upward. A hush fell, everyone holding their breath without consciously realizing it, breaths released in a collective gasp of stunned awe mere seconds later.

With a thunderous boom piercing the calm, a rocket was launched far into the starry black sky, exploding loudly into a brilliant shower of gold sparkles. The crowd erupted into claps of joy, the sound instantly lost amid the next rocket blast, this with a rain of white. For twenty minutes, the combined noise of rocket detonations and cheering ruled as the sky above Pemberley lit up with dazzling shimmers of red, gold, blue, white, orange, and green in dozens of shapes and sizes.

Interspersed with the enchanting aerial displays, the firework technicians hired by the Darcys lit a profusion of ground level pyrotechnics. Dense showers of brightly colored sparks resembled water spewing from fountains; fireworks set on small floats drifted down the Falls as the light reflected off the water; and elaborate sculptured shapes were set aflame with a profusion of color. The shapes were myriad: a rose of red, a horse of gold, the flag of England in red and blue and white, “PEMBERLEY” spelled in orange, a dog in white, and—the masterpiece—an enormous detailed replica of Pemberley Manor in gold.

This last was lit simultaneously with the discharge of a dozen rockets; the resulting illumination was brilliant and bathed the entire grounds in nearly broad-daylight radiance. It was stunning; the assembly was momentarily dumbfounded as silence descended in a crashing wave only to be replaced seconds later by a deafening barrage of clapping and yelling. Reports later received indicated that the colorful lights were seen in Lambton to the east, Baslow to the north, and Rowsley to the south. The satisfying finale was stupendous and would be remembered for decades hence.

Darcy hugged his wife, drawing her again into the shadows and turning her about in his arms. He pressed her into his chest, embracing with intense emotion. Speaking huskily to the top of her head, he said, “Elizabeth, you accomplished all this. You! I am so very proud of you. I am… overwhelmed.” He finished in a whisper, caressing her back as he held tight.