Beginning, Previous Section, Section IV
Jump to new as of November 18, 2001
Author's Note: My thanks as always to Andrea for her helpful suggestions and excellent editing. Also to Lise, whose "Changing Principles" inspired the dialogue at the end.
Friday, August 22, 1823
I have been rather remiss in keeping up with my journal this week. The first time in the twenty years since I began keeping it that I have missed more than one day for a reason other than illness. But I have been rather distracted at night this week. However, some minor repairs to the carriage required us to lengthen our stay in this small town, so I have decided to take advantage of the time and catch up with my narrative.
On Monday night, just as I was finishing my entry for that night, there was a knock on the door. Hurriedly I closed my journal and shoved the pages that I had been doodling on in the desk drawer before I bade the person at the door to come in. I was a little surprised to see that there was not one person at the door but three. Georgiana and Jane looked more than a little embarrassed about something, but the smirk on Louisa's face made me wary. It was one I recognized all too well because I had seen it many times before. The message behind it was clear: "You are going to squirm and I shall enjoy every second of it!" We sat by the fire and after several unsuccessful attempts to get the conversation going, a blushing Jane managed to inquire, "Is there anything you want to ask us?"
I sat back in my chair, no doubt turning as pink as Jane. Stealing a quick glance at Louisa, I saw her sitting smugly in her chair, no doubt enjoying the spectacle. I was torn about what sort of reply to make. Did I answer "yes" and subject Jane and myself to further embarrassment? Or did I answer "no" and rely upon information and gossip that I had heard over the years? (After all, one does not get to be my age without hearing something that you should not!). In the end it was the desire to wipe that smirk off Louisa's face that decided it for me. So I smiled and responded, "Thank you for the kind offer Jane, but no, there is nothing I want to ask you." Jane looked relieved and Louisa more than a little disappointed. We spoke for a few minutes longer, mostly about the last minute details that needed to be sorted out before the wedding in the morning and then they rose and excused themselves.
After they had left, I spent a few minutes wondering if I should have asked them anything. I had plenty of questions, but that look that Louisa had on her face had annoyed me to the point where I wanted to wipe it off, with any means at my disposal. Now I felt foolish. Did I sneak back to Jane or Georgiana and ask them? Or did I muster up my courage and press on? In the end, the desire not to further embarrass myself by slinking back to ask questions won out.
Tuesday morning began bright and clear. But while the weather outside was sunny and peaceful, the climate inside Pemberley was anything but serene. I was convinced, despite having attended several brides on their wedding day, that none of them could have been in a state of nervous excitement similar to mine. How Jane and Louisa kept their wits about them that morning I shall never know, as they hurried from assisting me, to getting the children ready, all the while trying to get dressed themselves.
We assembled outside and Edward, in his usual orderly fashion got everyone into the carriages. He rode with the boys, while Jane took my nieces, who looked beautiful in their new frocks with her. My last ride as an unmarried woman would be shared with Charles and Louisa. We rode in silence. I am not sure whether this was by accident or design. While I was content to sit and watch my siblings, there were one or two occasions where Charles looked like he was about to speak, but then thought better of it.
The ride to Kympton was a short one, and soon we were all milling around outside the church. Once again, Edward took charge of herding everyone inside, assisted by Charles. Soon, I was in the small room where I would wait until the ceremony began. Jane and Louisa made the last minute adjustments to my gown and to my nieces before stepping into the sanctuary. Fanny, Caroline, and Sarah giggled as they admired each other in their new dresses, pleased that they looked so grown up in them. Charles and I stood and watched them, not saying a word, but conveying our happiness through glances or expressions.
A knock on the door and the simple phrase "It's time" interrupted our little gathering. The girls rushed out to take their places, and Charles and I were alone for a moment. He kissed me on the check and asked, "Are you ready love?" I was too overcome with emotion to speak, so I nodded. We left the room and took our position, behind my nieces.
The organ began playing and the doors opened and my nieces stepped through. I followed, on Charles' arm, but within a few steps, I saw the decorations in the sanctuary. Had it not been for Charles' presence on my arm, I would have given into the temptation to stop and gape. Having attended two other weddings at the church, I knew how it could look when prepared for a wedding. But those decorations were nothing, when compared to this.
I could not stop and admire the decorations, so I contented myself with studying them as closely as I could during the walk up the aisle. Of course, I alternated this study with looking at Rob (who I must say looked splendid in his new black coat!) and searching out my friends and relatives in the crowd. They were easy to find. There were the Fitzwilliams, Anne, Charlotte, Jane, Kitty, the Darcys, and Captain Stewart, all with their children. A quick glance to Rob's side of the aisle revealed the Campbells and another woman, who I guessed to be Andrew's wife.
Then I was at the altar and Rob was at my right elbow. A hurried look at him showed that the same sense of nervous excitement that coursed through my body coursed through his. My attention was pulled away from his face as Mr. Medcalf began speaking those words that I knew so well, "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today . . . " and I fixed my attentions on his vestments, studying them to the point where I could give an exact description of them.
While I was intently examining Mr. Medcalf's vestments, he had begun the vows. "Robert wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife . . . " Rob's answer was clear and loud, giving ample evidence of his happiness. "I will." The beginning of the vows had been my cue to stop looking at vestments and to start paying attention. I tried, when it was my turn to give the same indications of happiness in my answer that Rob had in his.
I was a bit surprised by Charles' reaction when it was asked, "Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?" He actually hesitated for a second before answering. With difficulty, I stopped myself from grinning as I thought "My, my Charles. What will you do when Fanny stands here?"
The rest of the vows went smoothly. When Louisa had been married, I had been young and stubborn, swearing that I would never say "and to obey" to any man. But I said it easily enough for Rob.
During the remaining prayers, I must admit that I paid more attention to my ring than to the prayers themselves. Compared to Louisa's or even to Jane's it was a simple ring, but the sight of it on my finger made my heart swell with happiness.
Except for those key memories, the ceremony was but a blur. It seems funny, but if my grandchildren ask me, what shall I tell them? Listen to me, married less than four days and already speaking about grandchildren!
Then, seemingly within mere moments of it having begun, the wedding was over and it was time for Rob and I to take our first walk as man and wife. Strangely, my first thoughts were not of our future but of a conversation that had taken place over a month before. The sight of Rob in a black coat had spurred my memories of this previous discussion.
I had noticed, during our courtship in London, that Rob always appeared to wear coats of three or four colors, with dark blue and dark green being the predominant colors in his wardrobe. I could not resist teasing him about this, hinting that he only owned four coats in total. It was one of those remarks that as soon as I had said it, I had wished I could take it back. Fearing that I had gone too far, I waited for his response. He was not angry, instead a slow smile spread across his face and he chuckled. "Lass, consider yourself fortunate that we did not meet ten years ago." This answer puzzled me. Rob was quick to elaborate. "Ten years ago," he said with a laugh, "I was still in the Army. You might have accused me of only owning one coat. A red one."
I started giggling, and soon was laughing until my sides ached. Rob looked confused. "A decade ago, orange was my favorite color and I owned several gowns in various shades of that color. You might have accused me of only owning one gown!" He pursed his lips, as he often did when thinking. "Red and orange," he said after a moment. As Rob said it, his face did a very good imitation of Sam's when he was forced to eat his vegetables. Soon we were both gasping for breath and clutching our sides. I managed to declare, between peals of laughter "Quite a sight we would have made!" "Indeed!" was all Rob could manage in return.
So, as we made our way down the aisle as man and wife, a slow grin spread across my face. Many people no doubt took it as a sign of my happiness, and I was happy. But there was another reason for the grin . . .
So, as we made our way down the aisle as man and wife, a slow grin spread across my face. Many people no doubt took it as a sign of my happiness, and I was happy. But there was another reason for the grin . . .
Our first walk together as a married couple appeared to take only seconds. I know that it took longer, but the memories of it are a blur, with the only things lodged securely in my memory being the nods that I gave as we made our way down the aisle and the silly grin on my face.
When we took our seats in the carriage, the grin must have still been there, because Rob asked about it. "Why the enormous grin Lady Caroline? Does the thought of being married amuse you?" If it had not been for his joking tone and his own smile, I might have thought that he was angry. His voice had startled me out of my reverie. "Amuse me? Oh no. I am very happy, but not amused. At least not in the way you mean. I am grinning for another reason."
Rob raised an eyebrow, and in that exaggerated brogue that always makes me laugh inquired again "So you will not tell me lass? I have ways of making you talk!" He tried to look sinister, but it only made me giggle more. "And what might these ways be dearest husband?"
Rob leaned forward and kissed me. Our lips parted, and I must have sat dazed for a few seconds, because the next thing I remember was shaking my head, as though I was trying to get my brain to work again. "Well?" he grinned. At that moment I was powerless. I would have told him anything he wanted to know. So I told him why I had been grinning as we had walked down the aisle. Rob threw his head back and laughed that rich full-bodied laugh of his. "A fine story this will make for our children and grandchildren Carrie." I leaned against him and we stayed amused by the whole idea until we arrived at Pemberley, where Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy had graciously agreed to hold the wedding breakfast.
It was when we were in the reception line that the first wisps of an unusual conversation began to reach my ears. At first, I could not see the two speakers, because they were standing behind a rather tall man. But I recognized the voices easily enough. Mrs. Lewis and Mrs. Osborn had voices that reminded me Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Phillips years ago in Meryton.
Their discourse was obviously one that I was not intended to hear, but hear it I did. It was only fragments at first, but as I heard more, I was able to piece it together.
"I was certainly surprised to see all the ladies from Pemberley here to help decorate the sanctuary yesterday afternoon!'
"Yes, Mrs. Medcalf said that she wanted to do something special for this one and that price would be no object. So I was able to use so many of those ideas that I have been storing up. But I also mentioned that I would not have enough help, so she just smiled and said that she would take care of everything."
Mrs. Osborn laughed and replied, "I don't believe that Mrs. Smith will ever get over having a future countess working on one side of her and the lady of the manor on the other!"
Upon overhearing these statements I stood stunned in silence for a moment. I had wondered where all the ladies had gone yesterday afternoon only to receive the butler's rather enigmatic reply of "Last minute arrangements, Miss Bingley".
The idea that my friends and family would exert so much effort on my behalf left me speechless and it was with great difficulty that I wrested part of my attention away from eavesdropping and back to greeting people. Nevertheless, a large part of my concentration remained focused on the two people making their way up the line.
"I shall have to thank Lady Andrea for her wonderful ideas for decorating the altar. I had not thought of using those colors before." commented Mrs. Lewis.
Turning my head away from the two ladies, I found Mr. Bennet standing before me. He smiled and whispered "Reminds you of someone else, doesn't it?" I smiled in return, knowing whom he was referring to. Mr. Bennet then took my hands and said, "I am glad to see you finally find happiness." His statement touched me and I leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. He laughed and stated "Now Lady Caroline, we don't want Sir Robert and Mrs. Bennet getting jealous, do we?"
The remainder of the guests passed quickly, and I tried to keep Mrs. Lewis and Mrs. Osborn from guessing that I had overheard them. Shortly before it was time to go, I beckoned Caroline over to me and whispered in her ear. She nodded that she understood, and I waited a few minutes before going to the room I had mentioned.
Stepping into the room I saw that Caroline, no doubt aided by Sarah and done an admirable job of collecting all the people that I had named. No words seemed enough to express my gratitude, but I knew that I had to say something. " I do not know what to say," I managed eventually. Kitty frowned. "It was intended to be a secret. A token of our appreciation for all that you have done for us." The expression on my face must have signaled my confusion, because one voice after another began to speak.
"You were the first one outside my family to accept me."
"You told me my fiancée was alive."
"You found me a husband."
"You gave me the courage to truly live for the first time."
"You understood when no one else did."
Kitty was at my elbow. "Now do you see why we did this?" I nodded, trying to keep my eyes from filling with tears.
I had known that saying goodbye was going to be hard, and the scene in the library had made it no easier. We gathered near the carriage, and I saw Fanny and Sam whispering something to Rob. No doubt extracting a promise they can come visit.
Then we were on our way, driving towards Edinburgh. I asked Rob where we would be staying that first night, since I knew that the journey would take several days. He stated that on his way to Pemberley he had selected several pleasant inns for us to stay at, the one we would be stopping at on our wedding night, being perhaps the nicest one on the journey.
The inn was agreeable, and judging from the attention given to us by the innkeeper and his wife, I wondered if Rob had not made some sort of arrangements on his way to Pemberley.
We had the finest room the inn had to offer. As I stepped from my dressing room and crossed to the bed, I could not but wonder if my husband had paid extra for it. I slid into bed, wearing the new nightdress that Louisa had purchased for me. It was then that I truly began to wish that I had let Jane tell me something the night before.
I do not know what possessed me to do it, but I slid farther into the bed and pulled the covers over my head. When I had been a little girl, I had often hidden under the covers, believing that nothing could harm me there. I stayed there for a moment or two, and then I remembered something from my tomboy days, when Louisa and Charles had dared me to do something. "I am Caroline Bingley. I am afraid of nothing!" had been my battle cry. Now it was "I am Lady Caroline and I am bloody petrified!" Then I heard Rob moving about in his dressing room, no doubt ready to enter. I threw the covers back and pulled myself up, no doubt red faced. He surely saw that I was embarrassed, but thankfully did not guess the real reason for it.
The next morning I awoke with a start. The arm that possessively lay across my waist and the presence of another body in the bed confused me for a moment, before I realized where I was. I turned over carefully, trying to keep from waking Rob only to find that he was awake, watching me. He propped himself up on one elbow, and kissed me on the forehead. I pulled his arm tighter around me and sighed contentedly. "I could spend all day like this". Rob smiled and said, "Perhaps we will, when we reach Edinburgh."
The days spent in the carriage sped by. Rob talked about his time in the Army and his travels across Spain and France. I marveled at his ability to portray a place in words. The only things he seemed to have difficulty discussing were the men he had known who had been killed. It surprised me that the death that touched him the most was not that of a fellow officer, but that of an Edinburgh boy, the son of the butcher who had provided meat to the Macmillan family for years.
One afternoon I was dozing in my corner of the carriage when Rob shook me awake. "I would like to show you something". We stepped outside and then I saw it. It was the stretch of seaside that he had mentioned when we had first met at Pemberley and it was even more beautiful than I imagined. The road was quiet, so we walked along it for a time, the carriage following as I admired the view
We arrived in Edinburgh late the next morning. As the carriage was being unloaded, I saw one basket that I did not recognize. I pointed it out to Rob, and he spoke to the footman, who unloaded it. The conspiratorial look that passed between them was impossible to miss and I grew more suspicious. The basket was set before me and I opened it. A small puppy stuck its' head out. Startled, I looked at Rob. He smiled and announced that it was a wedding present from my nieces and nephews, who had thought that I might "need a keepsake from home." I had long been fond of the spaniels at Foxchase and I guessed that the puppy came from there. "True," Rob said. "But it has a name already, so you cannot pick your own name. They wanted a name that reminded them of you. So I suggested "Bydand". He saw my look of confusion and hastened to explain. "It means "steadfast". "Ahh!" was all the reply I managed before I reached into the basket and lifted the puppy out. "Let us go see our new home!"
Author's Note: Sorry for the long delay in completing this. Real life does have the rather nasty habit of getting in the way at times! Anyway, on a brighter note, my thanks as always to the three wonderful ladies who helped to see this through to the end. I couldn't have done it without your help! So here's to you Andrea, Kathlyn and Teg!
Saturday, December 12, 1862
Fifty years. Has it truly been fifty years since I sat in a church in Meryton, bitter at how unfairly life had treated me? It seems as though it was a lifetime ago, and of course it was. I look back now at all that has happened to me since then and I realize that I have had a good life.
While many of life's blessings may have come to me later than they do to most women, I did enjoy them--a husband who doted on me, and three children who grew up healthy. Rob, bless his memory has been gone two years now, but I do have my reminiscences, and I only need to look at my son or my youngest daughter to remember him. Rob and I enjoyed just over thirty-seven years of married life, split between Scotland and London.
I can remember how nervous I was when I first arrived at the Edinburgh house. Like many brides I was anxious when we arrived, but Rob presented me with a puppy, a gift from my nieces and nephews and Bydand was such an energetic little fellow that I seemed to absorb excess energy from him. Thus when we entered the house, I was a little more at ease.
Besides the fears that are normal for all new brides who are crossing the threshold of the house they are to be mistress of, I had a few additional ones. I knew that in the eyes of some people I would be a foreigner. For the most part, I need not have worried. The servants accepted me quickly, and I believe that the years I kept house for Charles, even if they were a decade in the past, helped to smooth the way with our redoubtable housekeeper, Mrs. Maxwell.
Knowing nothing of Edinburgh, except for what my husband had told me and what I had read, I was curious as to what my activities in the city would be. Being the mistress of a large house, would of course keep me occupied much of the time. But it was a pleasant surprise when the vicar (who I believe the Church of Scotland calls a minister, another difference I had to get used to!) called with his wife ten days after our arrival. Evidently, the Macmillans had long played a key role in several charitable organizations in the city, and the mistress of the house was expected to uphold this tradition. Rob's sister Helena had carried out the role since her mother's passing, but from that time on, the responsibility became mine.
The first few meetings were of course awkward. I was the newcomer, thrust into a leadership position mostly by tradition. But the ladies of the committee were helpful and if I made one or two mistakes, they were willing to overlook them or attribute them to ignorance. Thus I learned one of the two mottoes that came to be a beacon for all my married life, the Macmillan family motto, Miseris succerre disco, meaning, " I learn to succor the unfortunate"
We spent our first anniversary in the Highlands, and I came to love the area. So much so that we returned there every few years for the rest of our married lives. But the Highlands will always mean more to me than tranquil beauty, because the following May, our first daughter, Georgiana Charlotte was born.
I was fortunate that she was born in London, so I was able to have my family about me. Rob, like many first time fathers wanted to stay and "be helpful". Jane with a commanding tone no doubt used often on her three children ordered him to "Get Out!" and a man who had led soldiers in battle and debated the most important political issues in the land slipped out the door. If I had not been in so much pain, I would have laughed.
The birth of the fair-haired Georgiana (Rob insisted that in all other ways she resembled me) was memorable for one other incident. At some point during that day, I must have called Rob something unrepeatable. I thought nothing of it at the time until later in the summer when I received a letter from Charles. It seemed that he and Jane had just been through a blazing row (yes, the idea of them fighting at all still surprises me) and she had referred to him by the same name that I had called Rob. Charles seemed more amused than angry about the whole thing, but he did ask that I not teach Jane anymore "unladylike" phrases.
Those days were idyllic. If Rob had been disappointed that his first-born child had not been a son, he never showed it. Little Georgie as everyone called her (and many still do to this day) soon had her proud papa wrapped around her tiny finger. The artist who had painted the miniatures of my nieces and nephews had become one of the most sought after portrait painters in London. We were fortunate that he was able to paint a pair of miniatures for us, as well as a portrait of Rob and I for the Edinburgh house.
Two years after Georgiana was born, we were blessed with another daughter, Helena Louisa. She and Georgie were as different as night and day. Where Georgie was a fair-haired version of me, Helena was a dark-haired copy of her father. Like her namesake and godmother, Georgiana was quiet. Helena was a tomboy in her youth and quite a handful as she prepared for her entrance to society, so much so that her exasperated father once called her "Hell's Belle."
Just as I began to despair that I would never give Rob an heir, I became pregnant again. Four years had passed since Helena's birth, and my forty-first birthday was rapidly approaching. The doctors, fearing for my health, made me spend much of my pregnancy in bed. I was astonished to hear that Lady Andrea Fitzwilliam was in a similar condition and we spent hours each day writing each other letters about everything and anything that had happened to us. The postmasters must have been more than a little disappointed when Alice Fitzwilliam and Andrew Charles Macmillan were born within days of each other.
Andrew was his father's pride and joy. This is not to say that Rob loved his daughters less, or that he was not as proud of them. Rob had more than enough love for all three children, and he was proud of them in their own unique ways.
My son was also the cause of most of the turmoil in the house. Beginning with chasing the dog about, he moved on to tormenting his sisters. By the time he had learned to behave properly, it was time for him to go away to school. Rob had insisted that his son "be raised like a Scot". I had grown to love Scotland, but the idea that my son would be hundreds of miles away from me for months on end frightened me. In the end, we compromised on sending Andrew to Harrow. My arguments that Andrew was only half-Scottish once again fell on rocky soil when it was time for university. Rob insisted on a school in Scotland, as opposed to Cambridge, where Charles and his son William had been educated.
Andrew instead went to St. Andrew's, which was not so bad, since it was close to both Edinburgh and the country estate. After he completed his education, he made the decision that changed his life and that of his family forever.
Growing up in a period when we had only fought colonial wars in far away places like India, Andrew had his heart set on being a soldier. I remembered the heartache that Mary Fitzwilliam had been through during Waterloo and I pleaded with him to choose something else. Rob had survived both Waterloo and the Peninsular campaign, and he talked about the Army at great length, going so far as to enlist Sir James Passmore and General Sir Michael Fitzwilliam to speak with Andrew in order to give him a clear picture of what military life was like.
But Andrew had inherited a double dose of stubbornness and all our speeches were useless. In the end, Rob decided to do what he could for our son, hoping that "a few years of dreary garrison duty" would make Andrew change his mind. Since Andrew, like his father, was a superb rider, I privately hoped that we might secure him a commission in the Greys. But the cavalry proved to be too expensive and Andrew instead joined the 93rd Foot, a Highland regiment. Some of the men seemed to take an instant dislike to Lieutenant Macmillan, on the basis of his mixed Lowland/English parentage, but they slowly grew to accept him.
In the summer of 1853, Andrew proposed to Lady Alice Fitzwilliam, the daughter of Lord Matthew and Lady Andrea. She was a beautiful girl with long dark wavy hair and a complexion that showed her mother's roots. Alice and Andrew had been born days apart and had thus known each other since childhood. Their falling in love was not completely unexpected.
Something unexpected did occur the following year, as the 93rd was sent to the Crimea. Alice was with their first child and I grew increasingly worried that Andrew might be killed. Alice and I both begged him not to go, either to resign or to request a transfer to another regiment. Andrew looked at me like I had just slapped him. Pleading with Rob, begging him to use his influence in turn angered him. The night Andrew left was the only night that Rob and I spent the night in separate beds while in the same house.
Since I had been unable to persuade Andrew not to leave the 93rd, I followed the news of the regiment as best I could. That terrible day when the Light Brigade rode into the history books at Balaclava, the 93rd also made their mark. It was with an odd mix of fear and pride that I read the stories about "The Thin Red Line".
Andrew survived the Crimea unwounded, although he did fall ill several times due mostly to the appalling living conditions. Alice and I both hoped that he would come home after his experiences in the Crimea, if only so he could see his new son for the first time. But instead he was sent to India with the rest of the regiment, to help put down the terrible Mutiny.
In November 1857, Andrew and the 93rd were once again heroes, thanks to their desperate fighting to rescue the surrounded Residency at Lucknow. One bloody, all night attack won six members of the regiment the Victoria Cross before breakfast. Although he was badly wounded, Andrew was one of them.
His wounds were severe enough to require his return to England. Thus on that glorious summer day, his wounds healed enough that he only needed a cane to walk, Andrew came home. Alice and their young son James were the first to greet him as he descended the gangway. It took a great deal of time for James to feel at ease around his father, but now the two are inseparable.
Rob passed away in October 1860 after a short illness. Georgiana, like her godmother was a pillar of strength to me in those days. Andrew was asked to stand for Rob's seat in the Commons and after giving the matter a great deal of thought he agreed.
His experiences had changed him. Gone was the youthful exuberance of his earlier years, replaced by a quiet thoughtfulness that reminded me of his father. Andrew is not a gifted public speaker like Rob, but he does do well when debating issues that are close to his heart.
My dear son does have one somewhat amusing quality however. He is a grown man who still lives in mortal fear of his mother! Only this morning, he approached me, no doubt prompted by Alice or the housekeeper, to demand that I stop using one of Rob's old canes to help me about the house. (My arthritis has been giving me trouble recently and Rob's cane tends to damage the floor). I gripped my cane firmly and fixed him with my best maternal glare. The glare had a most farcical effect. My son the battle-scarred war hero practically tripped over his own feet trying to get out of the room.
I took a moment to examine the cane more closely. It had been a gift to Rob on our 25th wedding anniversary. I read the inscription, faint, but still readable: Nemo me impune lacessit. It was the motto of Rob's old regiment, which translated as "No one provokes me with impunity". But it had a meaning for me as well. I had learned, mostly with Rob's patient coaching to control my temper. There were still people who had felt the sting of Caroline Bingley's famous tongue, but they were the only ones foolish enough to truly provoke me.
After scaring Andrew half out of his wits, I rose with difficulty and made my way upstairs to get dressed. Tonight was the 50th anniversary of Jane and Charles and the Darcys. Most of the extended family was there.
I sat in my usual spot by the fire with Louisa and Charlotte. "The widow's corner" as Charlotte called it. General Fitzwilliam had dubbed us "The Old Woman's Club". When asked by Louisa if he would like to join us, he smiled. "Fifty years ago, it would have been pistols at dawn if someone had called me that." But he joined us as we watched the other members of our generation on the dance floor.
The years had been good to the Darcys. Mr. Darcy was nearly as handsome now as he had been five decades before and Elizabeth still had that glint in her eye. Charles is a bit stooped, but his spirit has not left him. After watching them for a time, I closed my eyes and thought of Rob. We so liked to dance. When I opened my eyes, Louisa was smiling at me. She leaned over and whispered "Thinking of old times?" and I nodded before wiping away a tear.
But Lady Andrea Spencer nee Fitzwilliam has outdone us all. After burying Lord Matthew, her husband of over 40 years, she remarried, to a charming if elderly Duke. It was difficult to say whose children were more shocked by the move, but both of them seem happy and Charlotte and Louisa have both asked if John has any brothers who are available. He just throws back that handsome silver head of his and laughs.
I cannot help but think that life had been good to me indeed as I sit here watching, trying to remember as many details as possible. Tomorrow, I believe I will sit my granddaughters down and tell them a story. A tale about an embittered woman who dreamed of her Prince Charming. Some fairy tales, after all, come true.
My thanks to Annie, Lise and Peg, whose stories helped me to see Caroline as something other than the wicked witch of P&P. And to that Caroline hater par excellance, Dani who told me I was on the right track when she said she liked my Caroline.