He smiled, laughed, and grunted precisely as she knew he would during certain sentences, adding an occasional comment. “Brave am I? Yes, that is true… Poor Mr. Daniels!… Pathetic? Well, I suppose so… 'Not too much' he says! The man tortured and terrified me… Hmmm… You are welcome, Mr. Bennet… There shall be the test, my love. I will have you and our son stand across from the library door and see where he goes first… Ha! 'Greater sense and wisdom.' From the mouth of your father. Surely you cannot argue with that?” He grinned up at his wife, who ignored the query.

Mary's correspondence arrived three days later. Lizzy sat on the terrace, fanning herself and praying for a breeze, no matter how faint. Darcy was at the stables. On occasion Lizzy would accompany him for a spell, but today he planned to assist with breaking a horse, and Lizzy absolutely refused to watch. The process terrified her and she fretted all day while he was at the endeavor. Darcy knew her fears and generally evaded elaborating on his planned activities, but if she pointedly inquired, he would not lie. He deplored worrying her but could not resist the lure of the corral. Lizzy recognized his love for the work so attempted to hide her anxiety and disapproval, learning it best to not ask his agenda for the day.

Therefore, it was painfully obvious when he was to train! If Darcy's docket included riding about the farms, or visiting a fishery or mill, or checking on the breeding proceedings, he was open in sharing, giving her a complete rundown of his time so she would know precisely where he was and when he expected to return. If, on the other hand, he remained mum or became vague, she knew it meant a day of vigorous and dangerous exercise with a wild horse.

Such had been the case this morning. He woke her early, the sun barely illuminating the room. Lizzy groaned and vainly attempted to ignore the sweet kisses being rained along her shoulder and the insistent hands roaming freely. Her husband, however, was in a mood and, as was generally the case, finagled matters to arrive at the outcome he wanted. Afterwards, just as a blissfully content and tingly Lizzy was drifting back into sleep, she asked groggily, “What are your plans for the day? Are you staying with me or going for a ride?”

She could tell instantly by the silence and slight stiffening of his body that the news was unfavorable. Darcy was a terrible liar and even after all this time had yet to arrive at a plausible alibi. “I shall be riding, yes, then I… have business with Mr. Thurber and… um, well, boring… issues to attend to, and… I do not know when I shall return, but certainly for dinner, my love, so do not worry. I love you.”

Now, staring at the rippling water of the lake, Lizzy sighed deeply and gave up on her prayers for a cooling wind. A sudden burst of restlessness consumed her and, grabbing her bonnet, she rose to her feet, deciding that a walk among the trees was essential. She pivoted to the door, nearly colliding with the maid.

“Forgive me, madam. I was bringing these to you.” She held out two envelopes. “The post just arrived.”

“Thank you, Abigail. Could you please inform Mrs. Reynolds that I will be walking the north trail to the rock pond?”

The trail leading to the pond skirted the edge of the forest. The canopy of leaves coupled with the perpetually damp loam of the floor created a significantly cooler atmosphere. Lizzy immediately perked up under the shade, rejuvenated to the point of adequately relinquishing the unrelenting angst over Darcy's employment. Sitting on one of the artistically arranged and sheltered rock benches beside the pond's rim, Lizzy removed her shoes and commenced reading.


Dear Lizzy,

I am sincerely praying that my news will reach your ears via my pen rather than Papa's. Although, in the end it matters naught as long as you are made aware of a fabulous occurrence. For cert it shall be no great marvel to you as I have spoken of little else in each letter I have sent. Yes, dear sister, naturally I speak of me and Mr. Daniels. He has proposed! I feel as if I should insert the caveat “finally” although in truth our courtship has advanced speedily. Odd, is it not, how when the correct mate appears it simply fits? I imagine it must have been the same with you and Mr. Darcy as your relationship transpired in short order. Of course, you know I tend to not be gushy or emotional by nature, but Mr. Daniels does elicit sensations of tenderness and whimsy unfamiliar in me. Now I comprehend at least some of the ridiculous expressions you would share with Mr. Darcy. Hopefully we are not as nonsensical. Anyway, I should describe the proposal as all my new women friends are consistently inquiring, so I have deduced it is of vital interest to others.

I have ascertained that Mr. Daniels, albeit sensible and serious, does have a romantic disposition and can be mildly impatient. Therefore, it was of no great surprise that he rode off to Hertfordshire, unbeknownst to me, and asked Papa for my hand. Is that not sweet? Apparently Papa teased him a bit but eventually gave his consent. That evening, just two days ago now, Mr. Daniels arrived for dinner, having conspired with Aunt and Uncle to secure a span of time alone with me. I was momentarily shocked when first Aunt left the room, followed ten minutes later by Uncle, both mumbling something vague in excuse. Naturally I am not totally dull and presumed his intent before he dropped to his knee. Oh, Lizzy, it was so very cute! Mr. Daniels, if you recall, is quite bashful in general; however, we have reached a place of relative ease with each other. So, to see him blushing and stammering was fairly amusing. I maintained my calm and waited in serene silence until he finally (and here the word applies) blurted out the actual words, “Will you marry me?”

Oh the urge to laugh! However, I did not. Despite the humor of the situation I was, and am, deeply moved and exceedingly content. I said yes, obviously, and tried to get him off his knee, but he stubbornly remained until the ring was secure on my finger. Now it is official. His family is delighted. They, I say with a slight blush, adore me. I truly care for them as well. We have yet to decide the wedding details. I wanted to write you as soon as possible. Lizzy, as generally unromantic and stoic as I am, I want you to know how blissful I am. Also, I want to thank you and Mr. Darcy most profoundly. The sequence of events that led Mr. Daniels to my side is all because of you two. I shall be eternally grateful, and I know Mr. Daniels feels the same. He wishes to thank Mr. Darcy as well and asked me to convey his heartfelt gratitude, as it would be inappropriate, his words, to personally write to a client.

One point we are mutually firm on is dating the wedding for after your baby's birth as we insist on the presence of you and Mr. Darcy. Probably mid to late February if this seems feasible for you? We need the time to plan as Mr. Daniels intends to purchase a house for us and I wish to spend a few more months in Hertfordshire. I will keep you informed. I hope all is well with you and the baby. Please take care, Lizzy. Give my sincerest regards to Mr. Darcy. I know Georgiana is traveling so have written to her via Pemberley. Feel free to share my news if you write to her prior to her return. I love you, Lizzy.

God Bless,

Mary


Lizzy reread the letter several times. Partly this was due to her overwhelming joy in her sister's good fortune. Additionally it was due to a lack of enthusiasm toward reading the second letter.

It was from Lydia.

Lydia had written to Lizzy exactly four times, including this one, since riding off with Mr. Wickham to Newcastle nearly one year ago. Lizzy had written a dozen times, considered it her duty to do so, but in all honesty did not exalt in her sister's responses. Aside from the fact that she and her flighty youngest sister had never been tremendously akin, there was the uncomfortable reality of Lydia's marriage and current living situation that drove a deeper wedge between them. Lydia's letters were typical of her personality: self-centered, erratic, and unintelligent. Top that with incessant references to “my dear Wickham” and Lizzy was nauseous and headachy each time.

To make matters worse, it was the only area of her life she did not share with Darcy. He knew that she wrote to Lydia and was aware that she received the occasional reply; however, he never asked for details. He wished no ill upon Lydia in her marriage. Rather he harbored extreme guilt over the arrangement, knowing it was his involvement that shackled her to Wickham, even though there was no alternative as she had flatly refused to leave her “sweet Wickham's” side.

Darcy told Lizzy, much later, that his original plan was to use all the considerable means at his disposal to hush the scandal and restore Lydia to her family. Wickham was perfectly amenable to taking the money Darcy offered and disappearing, but Lydia refused to leave. He could not very well drag her away kicking and screaming, although it had crossed his mind, but then the scandal would be far more difficult to smother.

Furthermore, it had not taken Wickham long after his initial shock at seeing Darcy materialize with Lydia's Uncle Gardiner to realize Darcy's involvement in the situation was attributed to an attachment to Lizzy Bennet. The two men had known each other for too many years. Wickham uncannily deciphered the puzzle no matter how bland and uncommunicative Darcy attempted to be. Therefore Darcy had been forced to increase the sum offered Wickham in order to secure him marrying her, a step Wickham patently had no previous intention of taking. Even then, Darcy had worried that he would not follow through while simultaneously praying that he would run away and save Lydia the sad fate of being his wife.

During Lizzy and Darcy's engagement the topic had come up only once in a rebuttal to Mrs. Bennet discussing the guest list. Darcy bluntly stated that under no circumstance was Wickham to be invited to the wedding. Mrs. Bennet had moaned and dithered, muttering uncharitable comments about Mr. Darcy's character until Lizzy nearly snapped, saved only by her father steering her mother out of the room for a stern lashing. It was awful, increasingly so by the intense distress and anger of Darcy. Of course, the whole episode was unnecessary as Lydia was far too involved in her own affairs to bother traveling the distance to her sister's wedding, nor would Wickham have endured Darcy's ire.

Upon the receipt of Lydia's first correspondence after Lizzy's marriage, a full one month after in fact, Lizzy finally heard the entire story of Darcy's search for Wickham and Lydia. Her husband's lingering pain over the situation, remorse for being unable to rescue Lydia, and hatred toward Wickham was profound. Reliving the episode was tortuous, augmented by a residual grief due to his belief at the time that Elizabeth was beyond his reach. The last pieces of the mystery were revealed. They hugged, kissed, and made love, then vowed to never speak of it again.

It was not that Darcy refused to utter Wickham's or Lydia's name or hear them spoken in his presence; he merely preferred to avoid the topic. Therefore, Lizzy chose to facilitate tranquility and impede any suffering touching her husband by hiding the letters received and never mentioning her sister. Fortunately it was not a difficult chore, but she still hated anything remotely secretive between her and her spouse.

“Quit stalling, Lizzy,” she chided herself, opening the letter with a sigh.


Dear Lizzy,

You are pregnant! Oh Lizzy, I completely forgot. I was cleaning out my desk and ran across one of your letters, how do you have the time to write so much, Lizzy? Unbelievable! Anyway, I reread it and remembered. Congratulations! You are happy, are you? You said you were and I am sure Mr. Darcy wishes for an heir. I do not think I am at all ready to have a baby. Growing fat and being sick, oh how horrible! I do hope that does not happen to you, Lizzy. Of course you are far thinner than me so maybe it shall not affect you so. The Major's wife had her third baby six months ago, three! Can you imagine? Anyway, she is still huge, poor dear. I heard she was about my size once, so I fear that could be my fate! My dear Wickham is in no hurry to have babies, so I need not concern myself yet. So are you feeling well? Have you been sick? I do pray the delivery goes well. I hear people die when having babies! Of course Mama had no problems so hopefully you will take after her. I daresay you and Mr. Darcy desire a male? Yes? I am doing fantastically! Newcastle is a huge city, Lizzy! There are so many diversions here. The parks are beautiful, the seashore is near although far too cold this far to the north, the shopping is fantastic, and the theater is amazing! Better than London, most people say. I adore all the parties. Lizzy, the dancing is frequent and so delightful. Balls nearly every Saturday! I have made so many friends. There are so many Scots here! They talk with a strange accent, a burr it is called, and they are big and sweaty usually. Scary but intriguing. My dear Wickham is busy so often, spends so many nights working, poor darling. His superiors torture him! Work, work, work all the time. He comes home at the wee hours of the morning tired and mussed up. Luckily my lady friends keep me entertained. Everyone is so kind! I never lack for dancing partners as the officers sympathize with my sweet Wickham's absence, poor baby! You would think that working such long hours would mean he is paid more, yet we barely manage to survive! He tries so hard, my dear husband, but there is only so much one man can do. He does try to win at the tables on occasion, just to augment our income, you understand, but the scoundrels cheat so here! Of course, you do not have to worry about money! So fortunate. Mama wrote about your fine carriage and jewels and gowns. My George said it is expected as a Darcy and that Mr. Darcy would have it no other way. Well, do not worry about me, Lizzy. I admit I envy you just a small bit! Nonetheless, I am happy with my friends and my dear Wickham. See, it all turned out wonderfully despite Mr. Darcy and Uncle fretting so. Oh, I hear my dear George downstairs! I must close now, Lizzy. I know you will write me soon. You are so good! I do not know how you find the time. I thought being Mistress of Pemberley would keep you occupied. My Wickham says it is probably because Mr. Darcy does all the work himself and does not trust you to do anything. I do not believe this as I know how bright you are, but do not tell him I disagree! Give my best to Mr. Darcy. I love you, Lizzy!