Posted on: 2010-01-29

It was, Lizzy reflected, the first day on which life had returned to its reassuring pattern of sameness. The parlor was full of sunlight as it normally was at that hour--the beams refracting through the curved glass, highlighting the dust floating in the air, and coming to rest in the familiar pattern on the painted wall. Her neglected basket sat next to her, full of the work that had been interrupted those weeks ago. She could hear Jane in the next room practicing on the small instrument that had been a gift from Miss DeBourgh. She smiled, remembering that lady's voice in its standard monotone, only a month after the old woman's death. "It was the pianoforte in Mrs. Jenkinson's room. I'm sure my mother would have wanted you to have it." Lizzy knew the generosity was a product of both Anne's dry sense of humor and her twisted feelings toward the deceased. Mrs. Jenkinson herself had been dispatched with a generous settlement, of course, the minute Lady Catherine was laid in her grave. That had been four years before. Black crepe had not suited Miss DeBourgh. Nor, Lizzy reflected, did it suit her own figure and coloring now. She ran a finger along the dark sleeve and tried to identify the tune. Jane, her dear little Jane, round-faced and lively, so loved to play.

It was the horse entering the yard the shook her out of her reverie. She had been expecting visitors for some time, and wondered who would come. A single horse could only be her brother from Derbyshire. Or possibly her Uncle from London, if business was steady enough for him to leave. Either way it would not look well to be seen crying. Quickly, she brushed the threatening tears from her eyes, and took up the item at the top of the basket, a baptismal gown, a gift for the child of one of the major farmers of the district, only to stop the embroidery after the first stitch. There was no clergyman at Hunsford now. And the minister from Ashcroft had performed the Baptism the week before, without the gift of such a pretty gown from his wife. The realization threw her into another moment of quiet daydream, interrupted only by the announcement and entrance of a rather unexpected visitor.

"Mr. Darcy!" He stood in the doorway, looking every inch the imposing and proud man she knew that he could sometimes be. Nonetheless, he was her friend, and she did not know whether she should be more pleased or surprised that he had come.

He bowed. "Mrs. Collins. My deepest condolences on your loss."

"Thank you," she said stiffly. They were such odd words to hear, and she had heard them too many times now. She motioned for him to sit, ringing for tea as a matter of habit. Now that she had a moment to observe him, she realized that he had appeared directly from the road. "Did you not stop at Rosings, sir? You look quite done in."

"Not at all. I did ride from Bromley this morning, but I assure you, this visit will be a welcome respite before I attend to my cousin," he smiled broadly, in the manner that had become familiar to her over the previous years.

She smiled back in spite of herself. "I do not believe Miss DeBourgh was expecting you for another week. I daresay she will not miss you this half hour delay."

"Longer than a half hour, I'm afraid. Mr. Markham has entrusted me with the safe care of his wife and mother and I must make sure they arrive safely. Mrs. Markham was expressing some exhaustion at the inn and they probably did not leave for another hour after I rode out. But I thought it prudent to ride ahead of the carriage to warn you of their coming so that your staff may prepare for their stay."

Lizzy's eyes shone. "My sister is come! Oh Mr. Darcy, I cannot thank you enough. I cannot tell you how I have longed for family these few weeks."

"I assure you Mrs. Collins, it is a trifle. As you know, I was to visit my cousin in any case. It was no trouble to have the Mrs. Markhams accompany me." He was still smiling, and Lizzy's widened into a smirk. Neither Mrs. Markham was anything but trouble.

"And how is dear Kitty?"

"Very well. In her usual condition, of course." His own smirk left no doubt as to his meaning, and she turned rather red.

"My goodness! And you all allowed her to travel all this way! And with the other six at home, as well!"

"I assure you that Mr. Markham is prodigiously fond of his children, and shall have no trouble. Your sister often remarks that after the fifth, they begin to raise themselves in any case. Besides, you know her. She was determined to go, confinement or no, and so she did. It was fortunate enough that I could offer her the use of a comfortable carriage and that the mother could attend to her. She would not have you alone, and had we not made the arrangements, I think she would have walked here. She is very upset for you and was very worried that you would have to return to Longbourn." His face fell, and Lizzy could sense his discomfort. It was fortunate then, that the maid entered with the tea, followed quickly by Jane, who had stopped playing some minutes before.

"Mr. Darcy! Oh! Bennet and I have longed to see you! Have we not Mama?" she said, running forward only to remember her status as a young lady just in time to not embrace the visitor.

"Miss Collins. What a little beauty you have become," smiled Darcy as he rose and bowed--his tone reflected the manner of one used to dealing with girls of such a tender age.

"Not at all. Bennet says my face is too fat for me to be pretty. But is Susannah come too?"

"My daughter and her brothers are with their Aunt, I'm afraid. But your Aunt will be here soon in the carriage. Mrs. Markham is come all the way from Kympton."

Jane's face fell and then rose again as her initial disappointment gave way to excitement. "Oh, I love Aunt Kitty. She is so jolly. She will make sure we are not all the time sad about Father." With that declaration, her face turned a rather bright red, and only the determination not to cry kept that occurrence from occurring.

"I am very sorry about your father, Miss Collins. He was a very good and kind man." The sentiment did not reassure the girl in anyway, and Lizzy took pity on her daughter.

"Jane, is your brother still with Mr. Scapes?"

"No, he returned some time ago. He went off to look at a jolly great bee hive he found in the grove."

"Will you fetch him for me? Tell him we have guests."

"Yes, Mama."

"And watch for the stings. I will not be happy if I have to pull any barbs out of you this afternoon."

"Yes, Mama." Jane made to leave but took one last look at Mr. Darcy. Giving in, she enveloped him in the embrace that she had earlier decided was too familiar for someone who had reached the age of nine.

"I'm so glad you have come to see us, Mr. Darcy. You will be able to keep us from being sad about Papa. You know what it is like."

Mr. Darcy awkwardly patted her back and smiled at her, and she ran out of the door.

"Be back within the hour," Lizzy called after her, and turned to look at her guest once again.

"Bennet is spending time with Mr. Scapes?" he asked in a conversational tone.

"Yes," replied Lizzy. "He is such a serious child. He has determined that he will now have to learn the ways of managing an estate sooner rather than later and Mr. Scapes has agreed to teach him."

Darcy nodded. "Mr. Scapes is a good man and he will do well for Bennet. I did not think Lewis and I would ever agree on a steward, and we looked long and hard for an appropriate one. Tell me, Mrs. Collins, have my cousin and her relations come to any peace?"

Lizzy smiled. "You will see for yourself shortly. Visiting Rosings these days is like visiting two separate households under one roof. Miss DeBourgh holds court in the east wing. And Mr. and Mrs. DeBourgh have retreated to the west. I do not know why Miss DeBourgh ever thought that they should like to live with her. But forgive me, sir. I should not speak of your family so."

"And when have we not been blunt with each other, Mrs. Collins? No, you are the voice of reason in this vicinity, and I should never censor it. You must know that Anne enjoys showing Lewis what he might have owned, if it were not for her own birth. And Lewis will never give up hope that Anne is as sickly as she appears. No, I do not envy the DeBourghs their domestic arrangements. I prefer my quiet life with my children."

"As do I," smiled Lizzy. "But you changed the subject just now. Tell me, what is Kitty expecting of me? Why should I not return to Longbourn? My father would enjoy having Bennet with him."

Darcy cleared his throat. "I do not believe Mrs. Markham is concerned with Bennet, Madam. I believe she is more concerned about your youngest sister."

"Ahh! Yes, I would not like to disrupt that delicate peace that exists between Lydia and my father. To say nothing of my mother. But where does Mrs. Markham expect me to go? I am comfortable, sir, but our income will not be large. And you know I cannot go to Jane."

Darcy nodded. That was a shame, and knowing his own part in it hurt him deeply. She would have been happier with Bingley. And yet his own sister's marriage was so joyful, and his nieces and nephews would not have been born had they not-- no, it was not worth thinking about. And Jane had chosen to marry that man, with her eyes open. And she would not leave him now with his horses and his drink, no matter how much her sisters begged her to. There was nothing to do.

"Mary's husband is not in a position to take us, and I believe ten will surely be enough family to fill the Kympton parsonage. So I believe we have little choice in the matter, if I am to be prudent in our expenses. After all, Bennet will have Longbourn, but I must leave something for Jane. No, I am determined. We shall return home. Unless Kitty develops a better solution."

Darcy had remained silent through this exchange, because he knew she knew her sister well. That he did not answer led her to the correct conclusion.

"You have already conspired with her, have you not? You have already determined my future."

Darcy shrugged.

Lizzy shook her head, and fell into a lecture familiar to him. "What is it about the air in Derbyshire that changes people? You somehow acquire such a sense of hospitality to your fellow man, that my sister tours your house once, and seemingly, within a moment, she has seven children with the nearest clergyman. Meanwhile, my silly and ridiculous sister becomes a woman with such a sense of self that she has no problem arranging the lives of others. Now, sir, pray tell, where have you and Mrs. Markham determined I will live?"

Darcy knew when he was beaten. Mrs. Collins knew him too well. And she certainly knew her sister. "Mrs. Darcy's mother had been living at the Dower house at Pemberley, but she chose to return to London when Eleanor passed away. It sits empty now."

Lizzy looked penitent. "I am sorry Mr. Darcy. I forget that is has only been a twelfth-month. You yourself are barely out of mourning and I still cannot help but abuse you."

"Nonsense. It is good to feel a sense of familiarity."

She paused, watching the expression on his face change. Seeing that he was not serious, she laughed. "I believe you are teasing me, Mr. Darcy. But the Dower house? Sir, perhaps on some estates. But Pemberley's is far beyond our means. Even if you were to not charge us rent, we could hardly afford the staff."

"Nonsense. It is too out of the way to bring any kind of income. It is dreadfully old-fashioned besides--no, no one would want it--you should have heard my mother-in-law complain. And my staff have to maintain it as it is. So, you would do just fine with the same number of servants you have here, fewer if you decide to economize." Seeing her skeptical face, he smiled. "I have no choice, Mrs. Collins. Your sister will have her way."

"I see."

Darcy smiled. "I would enjoy having you near, Mrs. Collins. Susannah and Miss Collins shall have a chance to further their friendship. My steward would be delighted to discuss estate matters with Bennet, if that is his wish. And you could be of great use to the Markhams and their children, I am sure."

Lizzy pursed her lips. "This is rather high-handed of you both."

"Perhaps."

"And very generous of you."

"Indeed. But I am a generous man, by nature." His face sobered. "And I have much wrong to make up for as far as your family is concerned."

"You know longer have to apologize to me. That feud is over."

"I treated your husband abominably, Madam."

Lizzy sighed. "He did not remember the rudeness, Mr. Darcy. I do not even know if he ever realized the extent of your dislike."

"But you did. And I was cruel to you as well. To abuse a newlywed so! One with whom I had no right or relationship. I was foolish, and several years of friendship were lost between us."

"Yes, but your wife and my sister took care of matters; you apologized; and you have more than made up for your initial rudeness. I do appreciate the patience you showed Mr. Collins these last seven or eight years. I know he was not the most sensible of men, and he must have been trying company."

Darcy looked at his hands. "Not at all," he managed. Lizzy smiled wistfully.

"He was not sensible. But he was a good man, just as you told my daughter. And an earnest one. Had he approached me with the false sentiment that he might have shown in his situation, I would have laughed at him. But he did not."

"You do not have to tell me this, Mrs. Collins." In truth, Darcy did not want to hear any details of their courtship. It was a shock enough to come to Rosings that April and see them married.

She leaned forward. "You've always wondered, have you not?"

"It was a prudent match," he said, gazing away. "I am familiar with the situation your family was in."

"And he knew it was a prudent match. He confessed it was all he had to offer me--he knew he was not intelligent or handsome. He had an idea that he was not well-liked in company. But he offered to be pliable. That he would let me mold him into a better man, that he would do his best. It was not his fault, you know. He had not the advantages and education that my own son has had. And he had never known true affection." A hand to her face betrayed her tears. "I confess not liking him at times. I hope he never knew"

She was far away. He knew the place, knew it very well. "How did it happen?" he finally asked softly, handing her his handkerchief.

"We were walking back from Rosings. Miss DeBourgh had put on an excellent table, to spite her cousin I think," Lizzy smiled through her tears. "Mr. Collins was very fond of good food and drink, you know. He had eaten heavily and was complaining of some pain. And then he collapsed in the lane. We had some time--the servants ran to him and carried him to the house, but his breath was labored. The children were able to say good-bye, but he did not last until the morning." She wiped her eyes and folded the handkerchief, fingering his initials.

"I hope you do not think--it had helped me to speak of it. I did not mean to pry."

She looked up at him, again smiling, though it was forced. "No, I understand. Why don't you tell me? It will help to know… that I am not alone."

He bit his bottom lip, a habit from childhood he had all but abandoned. "Eleanor had symptoms," he started, "as she had had with… we had hopes, Mrs. Collins, of another child. She had never had any trouble. Not like my mother or Georgiana. She was very strong and healthy. But then there was a pain. It was horrible. She was in such agony, walking the halls doubled over. And she finally collapsed, and we had to carry her to bed. It lasted some days. The pain led to fever, and then, then, she was gone… But we did get to say good-bye. I thank God every day that he gave us some warning. Though I wish she had not suffered."

Lizzy leaned forward and took his hand in hers. They looked at each other in mutual loss and understanding. This was a friendship worth keeping.

Finally, some minutes later, the sound of the carriage drew them out of their thoughts.

Darcy spoke first. "You will come to Pemberley, will you not, Mrs. Collins? I do not think I could bear to lose you. You are the only friend who is completely honest with me. You know me at my worst, but I hope at my best as well. You will be comfortable. And your sister will be there."

Lizzy nodded slowly. "It would be for the best in the long-term, I believe, sir, for all of us. But you may tell us, if we ever tread upon your hospitality for too long. I will not be a charity case."

"I will tell you Mrs. Collins. I promise you," said Mr. Darcy, smiling at her.

It was at that point that Kitty Markham, with all the determination that a small framed woman heavy with child can have, swept into the door.

"There's my poor sister. I am sorry it took us so long to come. Now do not worry about anything Lizzy. I have arranged it all!"

The End