A Darcy Christmas

Amanda Grange Christmas Present

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a married man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of an heir, and Mr. Darcy of Pemberley was just such a man. Moreover, he was soon to have that want satisfied, for his wife, Elizabeth, was expecting their first child. As he watched her reading her mail at the breakfast table, his heart swelled with pride.

She opened a second letter and smiled.

“Jane has had the baby!” she said. “A boy!”

“So Bingley is a father,” said Darcy with evident pleasure.

“And Jane is a mother. Oh, my dear Jane, how proud and pleased she must be. Bingley is besotted,” said Elizabeth, returning to her letter. “Jane says she can scarcely persuade him to leave the nursery to eat and sleep. She adds, and it is not to be wondered at, for little Charles is the most beautiful baby you have ever seen.” Elizabeth looked up at Darcy. “Jane would like us to stay with her for Christmas. She says she can wait no longer to show us the new baby, as well as the new house. I am sure I cannot wait to see them. I will give orders for the packing at once.”

“No, we cannot go and see them just yet,” said Darcy. He looked at his wife’s full figure as she rose unsteadily to her feet. “You forget your condition.”

“I never forget my condition,” she said with a rueful smile, resting her hand on her rounded stomach.

“We will wait a few weeks nevertheless,” he said. “It will be better that way.”

“What nonsense! I am perfectly able to climb into the carriage, and that is all I need to do,” she said, laughing at him.

“But you might have the baby on the way!” he said.

“And I might not,” she replied.

“We might be in a lonely spot, with no midwife to hand, and nothing but the coach to shelter you,” he protested. “No hot water, no maids, no Mrs. Reynolds. No, Lizzy, it will not do. I am sorry, my love, but I forbid it.”

Instead of meekly obeying his command, Lizzy’s eyes sparkled and she said, “Ah! I knew how it would be. When we were newly married, you would deny me nothing, but now that a year and more has passed, you are showing your true colours and you expect me to obey you in everything!”

“I doubt if you have ever obeyed anyone in your life,” he returned, sitting back and looking at her with a smile playing about his lips.

“No, indeed I have not, for I have a mind of my own and I like to use it,” she said. “Otherwise, it might grow rusty with neglect.”

He laughed. But he was not to be so easily talked out of his fears.

“Only consider—”

“I have considered!” she said. And then, more seriously, “Believe me, I have. I have scarcely ventured beyond the flower gardens these past few weeks and for the last sennight I have barely set foot out of the door, but I cannot do so forever. It is very wearing and very tedious. Mama’s first child was three weeks late, and if I am the same, there will be plenty of time for us to go and see Jane’s baby and still return to Pemberley before our baby is born. And besides, I want a family Christmas.”

“Then let us invite your family here.”

“No, it would not do,” said Lizzy, sitting down again. “Jane and the baby cannot travel. Besides, it is already arranged that the family will visit Jane’s new residence, Lowlands Park. Jane’s housekeeper has been preparing for the event for weeks. The rooms have been aired, the larder stocked, and the beds made up.” She took pity on him and said, “Jane’s new house is not so very far away. If we leave Pemberley after lunch we will be there in time for dinner, scarcely time for anything to happen. I promise you, if I feel any twinges before we set out then we will delay the journey.”

“And what if you feel a twinge when we are halfway to Jane’s?”

“Then we will carry on our way and I will be well looked after as soon as we arrive.” As he still looked dubious, she continued. “You know what the midwife said: ladies in my condition must be humoured, and my mind is made up,” she told him.

Even before their marriage, Darcy had learnt that Elizabeth had a strong will, so that at last, he conceded to her wishes.

“Then I had better let them know in the stables, and you had better tell Mrs. Reynolds that we intend to leave tomorrow. There will be a great many arrangements to be made if you are to have a comfortable journey.”

“Thank you, my dear. I knew you would see sense!”

He made a noise which sounded suspiciously like harrumph, and Elizabeth returned to her letters.

“Is there any other news?” he asked.

Elizabeth opened a letter from her mother and began to read it to herself. Every now and again she broke out to relate some absurdity.

Darcy, now that he was at a safe distance from Mrs. Bennet, found that he could enjoy her foibles.

“She thanks me for my letter,” said Elizabeth. Then she said, “Oh dear! Oh no!” She shook her head. “Poor Charlotte!”

Darcy looked at her enquiringly and she read aloud from her letter.

“Charlotte Lucas—although I should say Charlotte Collins, though why she had a right to Mr. Collins I will never know, as he was promised to you, Lizzy—called on us last Tuesday, for you must know that she and Mr. Collins are staying at Lucas Lodge. I saw at once what she was about. As soon as she walked in the room she ran her eyes over your father to see if he showed signs of illness or age. I am sure she will turn us out before he is cold in his grave. Thank goodness you have married Mr. Darcy, Lizzy, so that when your father dies we can all come and live with you, otherwise I do not know what we should do. My sister in Meryton does not have room for all of us, nor my brother in London, but at Pemberley there is room to spare—”

“Then we must hope your father lives to a ripe old age!” interposed Darcy.

Elizabeth laughed. “I am sure he will.” She began to read again. “We are setting out for Jane’s tomorrow and we mean to travel by easy stages, arriving on the 19th.” She broke off and said, “So they will be there in two days’ time. If we leave tomorrow then we will have Jane and the baby to ourselves for a day before Mama arrives.”

She finished reading the letter to herself, then told him what it had contained, shorn of her mother’s ramblings.

“Maria Lucas is going to Jane’s as well. She and Kitty have become firm friends and so Jane has invited her to keep Kitty company. I am glad of it. Mary is not much of a companion, as she spends her time either practising the pianoforte or reading sermons and making extracts from them. With Jane and I living our own lives and Lydia in the north, it must be lonely for Kitty.”

“Your mother will no doubt find a husband for her before too long,” said Darcy.

“I rather believe that is what she is hoping for this Christmas. There will be no other guests staying in the house, only family, but Mama hopes there will be entertainments in the evenings and visitors during the day, and that one of them might suit Kitty.”

“But only if he has ten thousand a year!”

“Yes,” said Lizzy. “You have quite spoilt Mama for other men!”

“Or at least, for other fortunes!” said Darcy.

“And now I must go and see Mrs. Reynolds, then in an hour, you must take me round the park in the phaeton.”

Elizabeth left the room and Darcy finished his breakfast, then went out to the stables where he gave orders for the journey on the following day. As well as the usual instructions, he made it plain that he required one of the under grooms, a lad who was an expert horseman and a very fast rider, to be amongst the party and that he expected the lad to ride Lightning. This produced a startled reaction from the head groom, for Lightning was one of the most expensive horses in the stables. But Darcy was adamant. Although he did not say so, he wanted to be sure that help could be brought quickly if Elizabeth unexpectedly went into labour.

At the mere thought of it, he almost decided to cancel the journey after all, but he knew it would give Elizabeth such pleasure that he could not deny her the treat.

On leaving the stables he returned to the house and went upstairs to speak to his valet. As he did so he passed the foot of the stairs leading to the second floor, wherein lay the nursery, and on a sudden impulse he mounted them.

They gave way to a corridor which was looking bright and cheerful, having been newly renovated. The windows had been cleaned and the view they gave over the Pemberley park was beautiful. Sweeping lawns spread in every direction, and beyond them lay the Derbyshire moor.

He trod on the squeaking floorboard and smiled. Elizabeth had at first wanted to replace it, but she had relented when he had told her that it reminded him of his childhood. When he had slept in the nursery, its sound had heralded the approach of visitors.

His had been a happy childhood, roaming the grounds and climbing trees, loved by both parents, his beautiful mother and his austere father. From his mother had come open demonstrations of affection; from his father had come a solid feeling of security.

“The Darcys have lived at Pemberley for over two hundred years,” his father had said to him. “It is a name to be proud of.”

And he had been proud. Too proud on occasion, he thought uncomfortably, as he remembered his early relationship with Elizabeth. But she had taught him that too much pride led to incivility and, worse, blindness. Blindness to the qualities of others, regardless of their rank. And so he had mended his ways, and in doing so he had won his dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.

He paused on the threshold of the nursery. It had been decorated in a sunny yellow and the window seat had been upholstered in a matching fabric decorated with rocking horses. The inspiration had been his old wooden rocking horse, which had been freshly painted and varnished. He had spent many happy hours playing on it, as he had spent many happy hours kneeling on the window seat and looking out at the gardens, his excitement brimming over as he had seen his first pony standing below.

He turned to look at the cot in which he himself had slept, and he had a sudden memory of his mother bending over him illuminated by a halo of light coming from the candles on the landing behind her. He could almost hear the swish of her brocade dress as she bent over him, and feel the soft fall of powder on his cheek as she kissed him goodnight.

And then the memory faded and he thought that here, soon, his own child would be sleeping, climbing on the window seat, riding on the rocking horse.

He had always known he must marry and provide an heir for Pemberley, but with Elizabeth it was so much more than that. It was not just marrying and then having done with it; it was going through life together, exploring its new experiences side by side. And it was this, having a child together, becoming a family.

He smiled and, with one last look around the room, he went down to the first floor. He gave instructions to his valet for the morrow, then he went downstairs and rang for Mrs. Reynolds.

“Mrs. Darcy has no doubt told you of our plans for tomorrow,” he said.

“Yes, sir, she has.”

“I want to make sure that everything is done for her comfort. Blankets in the coach, a hot brick for her feet, a hamper of food with some tempting delicacies, and plenty of cushions.”

Mrs. Reynolds assured him that everything would be done. Content that he had made all the necessary plans, he made ready to escort his wife around the park in the phaeton.

As they set out, Elizabeth looking radiant in a new blue cloak, Darcy privately thought that the ride might show her she was not capable of making such a long journey by coach on the morrow. But instead of finding it uncomfortable she found it exhilarating. She was by nature active, and if she could not walk round the park, then to drive was the next best thing.

“You did not find it too tiring?” he asked her as he handed her out of the phaeton after an hour.

“Not at all. And I will not find the coach journey too tiring either,” she said mischievously.

“Then I admit myself beaten. We will set off at two o’clock,” he said.

There was a light covering of snow the following day. The whiteness glittered in the sunshine as it lay across the open expanse of the moor.

When Elizabeth stepped outside after lunch, the sharp, clean air stung her cheeks and made them glow. Darcy handed her into the coach. She settled herself, with some difficulty, on the comfortable seats, and he wrapped her round with blankets. She put her feet on the hot brick, the door was closed, and, with a crunching sound as the wheels began to roll across the frosted gravel, they were off.

Elizabeth felt her spirits rise as they bowled down the drive and turned into the road. She had not set foot beyond the gates for a week, and she was looking forward to the journey.

It was now almost three months since Jane and Bingley had left Netherfield. It had been a comfortable house and it had created many happy memories for them, but it was too near to Mrs. Bennet to be truly home. Mrs. Bennet had had a habit of visiting every day, sometimes two or three times a day, and if it was not Mrs. Bennet, then it was one of the other relations. Jane, always softhearted, had not liked to tell them that, although she loved them, she did not want to see them quite so often; and even Bingley, the most mild-mannered of men, had been heard to remark on several occasions that he wished the Bennets were not quite so near.

Since the Bennets could not be expected to move, and since Netherfield was only rented, the problem was solved once Jane and Bingley found a house of their own to buy. They had wisely ignored the suitable houses in Hertfordshire and looked further north, near Lizzy and Darcy. After many months of searching, they had found the perfect house and they had taken up residence there at the end of summer.

The house had at first not been fit for visitors, and afterwards, Elizabeth’s condition had made travelling difficult, so that Elizabeth and Darcy had not yet visited, and Elizabeth was eager to see it.

The coach drove through Derby, a bustling city, and Darcy asked Elizabeth if she would like to stop for some refreshment, but she was eager to arrive. So they travelled on into Nottinghamshire, where the countryside became softer and more smiling. Gone were the moors and instead there were fields, separated from the road by hedgerows, which were covered with glittering spiders’ webs.

The snow gradually disappeared as they moved further south and, as they approached Jane’s new neighbourhood, they saw open fields with a river meandering through.

“We are almost there,” said Elizabeth, her excitement mounting at the thought of seeing Jane again.

The coachman took a wrong turn and had to ask for directions, but they were soon on the right road and turned in between tall gates. They travelled through a deer park until the house came into view. It was an imposing house in the English Renaissance style, its pale stone looking serene in the midday light.

The coach came to a halt outside the front door, which opened immediately, and Bingley came down the steps, hands outstretched to greet them.

“My dear Darcy! And Elizabeth! Upon my honour, I have never seen you looking better. But it is cold out here. Come, let us go inside.”

He asked them about the journey as they went indoors, and they remarked upon the splendour of the house, but there was only one thing Elizabeth really wanted to do and that was to see her sister and her new nephew.

Bingley conducted them to the nursery, where a large fire crackled cheerily in the grate. And there was Jane, looking matronly and happy, by the side of the crib.

“Lizzy! Oh, how glad I am to see you!” she said, jumping up and kissing Lizzy affectionately. “I hoped you would come, but with the weather being against us and your time being so near I did not depend upon it.”

“I could not resist. The opportunity to see you was too tempting, and the chance to see little Charles was irresistible,” said Elizabeth.

She embraced Jane and then bent over the crib, where the newest addition to the Bingley family lay sleeping. His little fists were curled up sweetly, and his expression was contented.

“He has your nose and Bingley’s chin,” said Elizabeth. “I cannot yet tell about his eyes. Oh, Jane, he is beautiful.”

“I think he is the most beautiful baby I have ever seen,” said Jane.

“As our baby has not been born yet, I will not argue with you!” said Elizabeth. “He shall be the most beautiful baby in England until then. Have you decided what to name him?”

“Charles Edward Fitzwilliam Bingley,” said Jane.

“A very large name for a very small baby!” said Darcy, who was looking down at the infant with some interest.

“He will grow into it, never fear,” said Bingley, who looked at his son with adoration.

“I did not expect to find you up,” said Elizabeth to her sister. “I thought you would still be lying in.”

“And so I would be, if we were still at Netherfield, for Mama would have been scandalised otherwise, but here I am mistress in my own home. I felt well enough to rise this morning, although I must admit the birth was very tiring.”

As the conversation seemed to be in danger of moving into realms that Bingley and Darcy would rather know nothing about, the two gentlemen excused themselves, whilst Elizabeth settled down for a long and interesting conversation with Jane about the birth of little Charles.

“Well, what do you think?” asked Bingley as the two men went downstairs.

“I think it is a very fine house,” said Darcy. “You have done well. You remembered to ask about the chimneys, I hope?”

“Oh, the chimneys!” said Bingley. “I did not mean the house, I meant—”

“I know,” said Darcy with a laugh.

“Of course! I had forgotten that Elizabeth has taught you how to tease people! Well, what do you think? Is he not the most handsome baby you have ever seen? Is he not the strongest, the healthiest, the happiest baby it has ever been your pleasure to meet?” he asked as he led Darcy into the drawing-room.

“I have met very few infants and so yes, I can say he is.”

“Darcy!”

“Very well then! I agree with whatever you say. He is a very fine boy. I can say this in all sincerity: he is lucky to have such a father.”

“Do you really think so?” asked Bingley. He beamed whilst looking anxious at the same time. “I was elated when he was born. When I first heard him cry I felt an enormous sense of pride—”

There came a snort from the sofa, where Mr. Hurst, Charles Bingley’s brother-in-law, was lying, apparently asleep.

“Ah, yes,” said Bingley, momentarily diverted. “My family are here. Caroline arrived a month ago to run the household whilst Jane was indisposed, and Louisa arrived with her husband last week. My brother-in-law, as you see, is resting.”

Darcy raised one eyebrow. Mr. Hurst spent most of his life on the sofa and Bingley knew, as well as Darcy, that indolence, not the need for rest, was the reason.

The snort resolved itself into words as Mr. Hurst opened one eye.

“Felt an enormous sense of pride?” he asked. “Thought nothing of the sort. As soon as you heard that cry, you said, ‘I’ve killed them!’ and strode around the room like a man demented, moaning, ‘They’re dead. It’s all my fault!’”

“Nonsense!” said Bingley, but his laugh was a little sheepish.

Darcy smiled, but beneath his smile was a sense of understanding. He had been elated when Elizabeth had told him that she was expecting a child, but he had been anxious too and, try as he might, he could not rid himself of the anxiety. If anything should happen to her…

He was luckily saved from further reflections by the appearance of Caroline, who, together with Louisa, now entered the room.

“Mr. Darcy,” said Caroline warmly.

She had at first been incensed when she had discovered that he meant to marry Elizabeth Bennet, but she had quickly come to realise that unless she put on a glad, or at least a polite, face, she would lose Darcy’s friendship, and she would never be invited to Pemberley.

“You have brought the bad weather with you I fear,” said Caroline.

It was true. The snow, which had been falling lightly in sporadic showers, was now falling thick and fast outside the window. It was melting as it hit the ground, but here and there, patches were settling and the lawns were already white.

“I do hope it will not discommode your mother-in-law,” said Louisa.

“No, indeed,” said Caroline in a droll voice. “It would be a tragedy if she was delayed and did not manage to arrive tomorrow as expected. But where is Elizabeth? You cannot have left her behind?”

“She is upstairs with Jane,” said Darcy.

“It quite reminds me of old times, when Jane was taken ill at Netherfield,” said Bingley. “She had a cold, I remember, which she had caught from riding in the rain. Elizabeth sat with her upstairs and then the two of them came down after dinner.”

“Dear Jane will not be well enough to come downstairs today,” said Caroline. “She needs her rest.”

“She was talking of it only this morning,” Bingley contradicted her.

“My dear Charles, you must not allow it,” said Caroline. “It will be too much for her. I am at your disposal for as long as you need, you know that. I have managed the household not too ill this last month, as I am sure you will agree. Dear Jane need do nothing more than remain in the nursery until she is quite recovered.” She turned to Darcy. “I kept house for Charles before his marriage and as soon as Jane was no longer able to manage affairs, owing to her condition, I arrived at once to care for the household.”

“That was very good of you!” remarked Darcy with a speaking glance at Bingley.

“Yes, was it not?” said Bingley. “Caroline did not even wait for an invitation.”

“I thought it my duty to come. The inconvenience was nothing to me, and family, you know, never wait for an invitation,” said Caroline.

She walked across the room, displaying her figure, and then seated herself at the pianoforte and began to play.

“This is your favourite song, is it not, Mr. Darcy?” she asked.

He was forced to admit that it was, but he was saved from further attentions by Bingley saying, “I still have not shown you the billiard room, Darcy. Would you care for a game?”

Darcy agreed with alacrity and the two men left the room.

“Why did you not tell Caroline that she was not needed?” asked Darcy. “You have a house full of servants to look after you, and I am sure Jane does not want her here.”

“Oh, you know, Darcy, Caroline is not so bad. She is very efficient and she frightens the servants into honesty.”

“Honesty?” asked Darcy in surprise.

At that moment, a movement caught his eye and he saw Elizabeth coming down the stairs. She had evidently overheard their conversation for she said to Bingley, “So my father was right! He said that you and Jane were both so complying that nothing would ever be resolved upon and that every servant would cheat you.”

“Yes, well, perhaps we are too easygoing,” admitted Bingley. Then he asked eagerly, “How is Jane? Do you think she is looking well?”

“I think she is looking very well,” Elizabeth assured him. “And very happy.”

“And the baby?”

“He is contented. He is sleeping. Jane is resting now, but she hopes to join us in the drawing-room after dinner.”

“There you are! What did I say?” asked Bingley in delight. “I knew she would join us. Darcy and I were just going into the billiard room, but we will gladly return to the drawing-room with you if you wish.”

“Caroline is in the drawing-room,” remarked Darcy.

“Ah!” said Elizabeth. “Then I will come and watch the two of you play.”

They went into the billiard room. Darcy and Elizabeth commented on its fine proportions and remarked on the beauty and elegance of the house.

“It took us a long time to find it, but it has repaid our efforts,” said Bingley. “Jane and I are both settled here and we mean to make this our ancestral seat. Perhaps one day it will be as renowned as Pemberley.”

Darcy and Bingley began to play and Elizabeth looked around the room, thinking that Jane had chosen very well. The house was comfortable and elegant, and she knew that Jane was very happy with it. It gave her great pleasure to think of Jane being so well settled, and within an easy distance of Pemberley.

The three of them exchanged news as the two men played. When the game was over, Elizabeth and Darcy retired to their suite of rooms to dress for dinner. Jane and Charles kept country hours and dinner was served, in the winter, almost as soon as it was dark.

“Now, are you glad I talked you into coming?” Elizabeth asked her husband as she sat down at her dressing table and began to unpin her hair.

He helped her in her task, taking the pins out of her dark hair and letting it fall about her shoulders. He stroked it, letting his hands linger on the soft tresses.

“Yes, I am, as long as you are not feeling any ill effects from the journey.”

“No, none at all other than a little fatigue. I think I will lie down for half an hour before changing for dinner.”

She suited the action to the words and Darcy rubbed her feet in a way she found relaxing and pleasurable. She was glad to have some time alone with him. She had greatly enjoyed talking to Jane, and she had adored seeing the baby, but she had grown used to having Darcy to herself and she treasured their time alone. They stayed together, talking, until the clock struck the hour, and then they changed for dinner.

Elizabeth took Darcy’s arm and they descended the stairs. Jane and Bingley were in the hall, and together they went into the drawing-room.

Elizabeth’s eye ran round the room as she entered, noting the grand fireplace, the comfortable sofas, and the rich gold drapes, which had been drawn across the tall windows to keep out the December darkness. By the fire, which was burning with a cheery glow, was a screen which Jane had painted herself and a small table on which were several ornaments from the Bennet household, remembrances of home.

“Elizabeth, how well you look,” said Caroline, rising and greeting her. She turned to Jane. “My dear sister, are you sure you should be downstairs?”

“I am quite well, I do assure you,” said Jane.

Caroline opened her mouth, but Elizabeth looked at her, and Caroline quickly shut it again, for she had no wish to cross wits with Elizabeth. If she did, she was uncomfortably aware that she would come off the loser.

Bingley conducted Jane over to the fire and then arranged the screen to keep her out of any drafts.

“And how is my nephew?” asked Caroline.

“He is very well and sleeping,” said Jane.

“I do declare he is twice the size he was when he was born. He will be a fine boy before long,” said Louisa.

“He is a fine boy already,” said Bingley. “I never saw finer. His little fingers and toes, you never saw the like!”

“Do not encourage him or Charles will talk of nothing else,” said Caroline.

Indeed, the new son and heir formed most of Bingley’s conversation over dinner, and although Jane and Elizabeth managed to talk of other things from time to time, the new arrival formed most of Jane’s conversation too.

“And how is Pemberley, Mr. Darcy?” asked Caroline.

“The estate is thriving, thank you.”

“And your sister? Dear Georgiana, how I long to see her again.”

“She too is well. She is spending Christmas with friends.”

“Is she not young for such a visit?” asked Caroline.

“She is almost eighteen,” Darcy reminded her. “She will be coming out in the spring.”

“You will be going to town for the Season then,” said Caroline. She turned to her brother. “I told you, Charles, that you must buy a house in town, and see, I was right. If you will only bestir yourself, you can spend the spring in town and help Georgiana by escorting her to balls and such like.”

“I will be busy here,” said Charles.

“Then let me find a house for you.”

“We really couldn’t put you to so much trouble,” said Jane.

“It is no trouble. I would like nothing better,” said Caroline. “There, it is settled.”

Jane and Bingley looked at each other helplessly and Elizabeth thought that Caroline would very likely carry the day. She refrained from interfering but managed to say to Jane, as the ladies withdrew, “If you wish me to dissuade her, you have only to say the word.”

“Say nothing yet,” said Jane. “It will give her something to think about.”

“Something other than running the household and telling you what to do, do you mean?” asked Lizzy mischievously, as the two ladies crossed the hall behind Caroline and Louisa.

“She has been very kind, really she has,” said Jane. “Although I cannot think so well of her as I once did, for there is no denying that she tried to separate me from Charles, I believe she has seen the error of her ways and I think she is trying to make amends. She has been very helpful over the last few weeks; indeed, I would have found it difficult to manage without her. She has taken over everything.”

“I do not doubt it!”

Jane smiled but said, “Really, Lizzy, I think you misjudge her. I truly believe she is trying to be friends.”

“Jane, you are too good.”

“No, not too good, for I do not repose the same confidence in her as once I did. But she has been a help, there is no denying it, and I hope she will continue to be so. When Mama arrives, I am intending to leave her with Caroline.”

Elizabeth laughed at the thought of Caroline entertaining Mrs. Bennet. The two ladies had little liking for each other. Caroline thought Mrs. Bennet was excessively vulgar, and Mrs. Bennet had little time for anyone who was not an eligible young man.

“Perhaps they do not get on well together,” Jane conceded, “but it will be someone for Mama to talk to if I am indisposed.”

“And are you planning to be indisposed when Mama arrives?” teased Elizabeth.

“Really, Lizzy! I am looking forward to seeing her. But even so, I feel I will need some respite from her ways. She is to stay for a fortnight, and that is a long time.”

“With luck, she will be so enamoured of little Charles that she will be able to talk of nothing else, and you, my dear Jane, will, I am sure, be happy to talk about him all day long.”

“Indeed I will. But Mama will not be able to forget her daughters so easily, even whilst talking about her grandson. She has already told me that she expects me to give a ball, so that Kitty and Mary can find a husband,” said Jane.

“And are you giving a ball?” asked Lizzy.

“Yes. Caroline has been good enough to arrange it!”

Having reached the drawing-room, where Caroline and Louisa were already seated, the other two ladies joined in the conversation, and a discussion of the forthcoming ball ensued. Refreshments were discussed, the guest list reviewed, clothes spoken of, so that the time until the gentlemen joined them was agreeably spent.

After that, there was some general discussion about Bingley’s relatives and the new estate, but Jane soon began to tire and excused herself. Bingley followed her out of the room and their footsteps could be heard climbing the stairs to the nursery.

Elizabeth and Darcy continued to talk to Caroline and the Hursts for half an hour, but then they too excused themselves and retired for the night.

Elizabeth was not altogether looking forward to seeing her mother, particularly at such a time when her mother would no doubt interfere in everything she wished to eat, drink, or do, but she was longing to see her father again. He had always been very dear to her. He had defended her when her mother had tried to force her to marry Mr. Collins, and he had obliged her by discovering the good qualities in her husband, even though, at first, he had doubted they existed. He had come to realise that underneath Darcy’s reserved and proud exterior there was a man who was worthy of his daughter, and Mr. Bennet knew no higher praise than that, for he had always had a soft spot for his Lizzy.

So when, the following morning, she caught sight of the Bennet carriage appearing through heavy snow, she was delighted.

Bingley went out to greet them, quickly bringing everyone into the drawing-room, where a large fire and some refreshments awaited them.

“Lizzy, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet. His face was a picture of delighted surprise as he saw his favourite daughter. “This is an unexpected pleasure. We did not think to find you here. How are you?” He ran his eyes over her full figure. “Well, I hope?”

“Yes, Papa, very well,” said Lizzy, kissing him on the cheek. “When Jane invited us, I could not resist seeing her new house and my new nephew.”

“You should not have travelled in your condition. If I had known what you intended, I would have put a stop to it,” said Mrs. Bennet.

“Then it is as well that you did not. I am sure Lizzy was just as excited about seeing the newest addition to the family as we are,” said Mr. Bennet. There was a trace of unaccustomed pride in his voice. “Jane is well?”

“Very well. She will be down directly.”

Mr. Bingley urged them all to sit down and they settled themselves by the fire.

“It is perhaps a good thing you are here, after all, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Bennet. “I hope you will learn from your sister. I knew how it would be. I said, did I not, Mr. Bennet—did I not, Mary, Kitty, Maria?—that Jane would have a boy.” She looked around the drawing-room. “This is a very elegant drawing-room, far better than the one at Lucas Lodge, and better than Netherfield too, is it not, Mr. Bennet?”

“The relative merits of various drawing-rooms are, I am afraid, beyond me,” said Mr. Bennet.

Kitty looked around the room and pronounced it very fine. But it lost all its interest when, a moment later, Jane entered the room with little Charles in her arms. The talk was then all of the baby, with Mrs. Bennet predicting a great future for him and Mr. Bennet being quietly pleased. Kitty cooed over her first nephew and addressed herself as Aunt Kitty several times, whilst Mary said, “It is usual on such occasions to predict that the infant is destined for greatness, but I have often observed that very few of those who have greatness foretold for them manage to achieve such greatness when the full measure of their maturity unfolds.”

Elizabeth laughed. Mrs. Bennet said, “Hush, Mary, whoever asked you?” and Mr. Bennet said gravely, “Very wise, Mary. I am glad to see that your hours of study have not been wasted, but have been productive of such wisdom.”

Mary gave a gracious smile.

Little Charles was passed round all the females and, as they made a great fuss of him, Mr. Bennet said to his eldest daughter, “You have found yourself a fine house here, Jane. The situation is good and it seems comfortable. It is a true family home.”

Having passed the baby round everyone in turn, little Charles was returned to his mother.

“There is nothing finer than a fire in winter,” said Mrs. Bennet. She added complacently, “I am sure Lady Catherine will like it. She will be used to the very best fires at Rosings Park, for the chimney piece cost eight hundred pounds, and no one would wish to find a niggling fire beneath a chimney piece of such value. But even Lady Catherine, I am persuaded, will have no fault to find with this.”

Elizabeth looked at her mother in surprise, wondering why Lady Catherine had entered the conversation.

Before she had time to speak, Jane said, “Lady Catherine, Mama? Why should it matter whether or not Lady Catherine likes my fire?”

“Why, because I have invited her to stay here, of course. We have travelled up from Hertfordshire in the same party. Lady Catherine called in at Lucas Lodge on her way north to visit relatives, something to do with telling Charlotte that she was breeding the wrong sort of poultry, and as the weather was so poor, she was condescending enough to say that we could all travel on together. Two carriages are so much better than one when it snows, you know, for if one is stuck in a snowdrift, then the extra horses can be used to pull it out.”

“Lady Catherine is here?” asked Jane, looking out of the window in expectation of seeing her ladyship’s carriage.

“She is at an inn, not an hour’s drive away. It was as we stopped there to change the horses and take some refreshment that a party of gentlemen came in, telling us that the road further north was completely blocked. They themselves had tried to get through and had had to turn back. Lady Catherine decided that she would have to take rooms at the inn until the weather improved, but I assured her that she would have to do no such thing, for she would be welcome here. I knew you would not mind,” she said to Jane. “You have plenty of room, and Lady Catherine is family, you know.”

“Mama!” said Lizzy. “You had no right to issue an invitation on Jane’s behalf, especially when Jane is not yet recovered.”

“Now, Lizzy, do not take on so, it is not your house, you know, and Jane is delighted. Are you not, Jane?” Mrs. Bennet went on without waiting for Jane to reply. “Besides, Lizzy, Lady Catherine is your aunt. I could not leave her to a lengthy stay in the inn, for who knows when the roads will be clear. I dare say Mr. Darcy, at any rate, is pleased.”

If it was so, then Mr. Darcy hid his pleasure well.

“I had better arrange for a room to be aired,” said Jane.

“Two rooms,” said Mrs. Bennet. “Mr. Collins is with her ladyship. He has a brother nearby, and as he happened to mention it when Lady Catherine was visiting Lucas Lodge, she offered him a place in her carriage so that he could visit his brother without any trouble or expense.”

“I am sorry, my dear,” said Mr. Bennet to Jane. “I was too late to prevent the invitation being issued, and the best I could do was to encourage Lady Catherine to pause for something to eat so that we could arrive here first and give you some warning.”

“Never fear, Papa, Lady Catherine is welcome,” said Jane amicably.

“I did not know that Mr. Collins had a brother,” said Elizabeth, learning this new knowledge with interest.

“Oh, yes, a very fine young man by all accounts, I am sure he is everything that is charming and delightful. And what a good thing for Kitty!” said Mrs. Bennet, looking complacently at Kitty. “I have often wondered what would become of her, but now my mind is at ease.”

The smile left Kitty’s face.

“How can the fact that Mr. Collins has a brother be good for Kitty?” asked Elizabeth in surprise.

“Because Kitty will be able to marry him, of course.”

“No, Mama, I will not marry Mr. Collins’s brother!” said Kitty vehemently.

From the tone of her voice, it was obvious she had heard the suggestion before.

“Of course you will. He is a very eligible gentleman,” said her mother. “You will be delighted with him, no doubt.”

“I will not be delighted with him. I am not delighted with Mr. Collins,” said Kitty stubbornly.

“No one is asking you to be delighted with Mr. Collins; you are not expected to marry Mr. Collins. His brother is no doubt as different from him as you are from Lizzy. I am sure he is everything that is handsome and agreeable.”

“And I am sure he is nothing of the kind,” said Kitty. “I am determined not to marry him!”

“But, only think, my love. When Mr. Collins dies, as I am sure he will before very long—for he eats and drinks a prodigious amount and he will no doubt have an apoplexy before the year is out—his brother will inherit all his worldly possessions, so he will also inherit the entail. Then, when Mr. Bennet dies and you and your husband inherit Longbourn, you, Mary, and I may live there, all three of us together, till the end of our days.”

This prospect did not appear to cheer Kitty, who, instead of smiling with delight, looked as though she was ready to cry.

“There, there,” said Mr. Bennet, patting her hand. “I mean to live for a good long time yet, and neither Mr. Collins nor his brother shall have Longbourn until I am gone.”

Mrs. Bennet opened her mouth but Bingley, with a great deal of tact, silenced her by the simple expedient of offering her a piece of seed cake. She accepted with relish, saying that she was famished, and fell mercifully silent for a full two minutes.

“Then I must have preparations made for our unexpected guests,” said Jane. “Is Charlotte with Lady Catherine too?”

“No,” said Mr. Bennet.

“Charlotte very much wanted to accompany her husband, but she felt that it would be better if Mr. Collins went alone, as she did not like to crowd her ladyship in the coach,” said Mrs. Bennet.

Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled and she murmured under her breath, “Sensible Charlotte.”

“Indeed,” said Mr. Bennet, sharing a smile with Lizzy.

“I will tell the housekeeper to ready two rooms,” said Jane.

“Three rooms. Do not forget Mr. Collins’s brother,” said Mrs. Bennet, finishing her cake. “I told Mr. Collins that he must invite his brother to stay as well. He was delighted with the idea and promised to invite him as soon as he saw him. The poor young man is in lodgings close by the inn, and there is nothing more dreary than a Christmas spent in rented rooms.”

“Well,” said Bingley, clapping his hands together good-naturedly, “that is all to the good. I like a large party at Christmas.”

Mr. Bennet gave a dry laugh.

“What did I tell you, Jane? You and your husband are both so amiable that you are being taken advantage of already.”

“In this case, I do not mind my mother’s—”

“Interference?” put in Lizzy.

“Suggestions,” said Jane mildly. “I do not like to think of Lady Catherine being trapped by bad weather in an inn, nor do I like to think of Mr. Collins’s brother spending Christmas alone. We shall be a merry party, I am sure.” She turned to her mother. “Will you not come with me, Mama? I will show you and my sisters to your rooms. I am sure you will want to rest after your journey.”

“Not at all!” said Mrs. Bennet.

“Yes, my love, you will,” said Mr. Bennet firmly. He rose to his feet. “Jane, lead on, my dear.”

Jane led her family out of the room, and Bingley followed.

Elizabeth and Darcy exchanged looks as Mrs. Bennet left the room. Having spent some time away from her mother, Elizabeth had forgotten how tiring she could be.

“So, my aunt, it seems, is to join us. Then we are to have a family Christmas after all,” said Darcy.

“Yes,” said Lizzy. “Full of quarrels and tantrums no doubt! It is a far cry from the Christmas we were expecting at Pemberley. No, do not say it!”

“Say what?” enquired Darcy wickedly.

“That I have only myself to blame! That we could have stayed at Pemberley quietly.”

“But then we would not have seen little Charles, and you would not have been able to speak to your sister.”

“No, you are right. I do not regret it. We do not have to spend every minute of every day with them, after all. I love my family dearly but there are times when it is good to be away from them!” She glanced out of the window, attracted by a gleam of sunshine. “Look, the snow has stopped. Let us go outside. I am longing for a breath of air.”

They wrapped up warmly and were soon outdoors.

“Jane and Charles have a very pretty park here,” said Elizabeth.

She let her eyes wander over the spacious lawns with the sweeping driveway and the shrubbery beyond. Specimen trees were dotted here and there, casting patches of blue shadow across the whiteness. The clouds had rolled away and, up above them, the sky was a startling blue.

“If this continues, the snow will soon melt,” said Darcy.

“You sound pleased with the idea,” said Elizabeth teasingly as they strolled down the paths. “Do you mean to tell me you are not delighted with the idea of your aunt’s visit?”

“Other things have delighted me more!” he said, adding, “Such as seeing you so happy.”

He stopped and turned to face her. She was radiant. The sharp winter air had given her cheeks a healthy colour and brought a sparkle to her eyes, so that she was glowing with health.

“I love to be out of doors,” she said. “There is nothing like the feel of the wind on my cheek—unless it is the feel of your hand,” she said saucily.

He drew her to him and stroked her cheek, then, looking down into her eyes, he kissed her.

“We are very near the house,” she said. “Someone might see.”

“The drawing-room looks the other way. Besides, we are married,” he said.

“So we are,” she said, and he kissed her again.

“Do you think your aunt will really stay here for Christmas?” Elizabeth asked Darcy some time later.

The cold had driven them indoors and they had chosen to sit in the library.

“If she has a choice, no, but the weather appears to be worsening and it may be impossible for her to leave.”

“I only hope the weather does not mean that Jane has to cancel the ball. I know that she is looking forward to it.”

“It is still a few days hence, and travelling a few miles to a private ball is not the same as travelling across the country,” said Darcy. “It will only take a bright evening to encourage people to leave their firesides, the more so because they will have been deprived of company, and I will sit beside you the entire evening.”

“Thank you, but I have no intention of sitting down all evening; I intend to dance. You look surprised.”

“Nothing you could ever say or do would surprise me! But are you sure it is wise?”

“Wise or not, I intend to do it. I am looking forward to it. I have not danced for months,” she said.

“Then I will make sure Mr. Collins keeps a dance free for you!”

Elizabeth laughed.

“I thank you, but I believe that, if Mr. Collins asks for my hand, I will confess to fatigue and sit the dance out. It was barely tolerable dancing with him at Netherfield. I do not believe I could endure the mortification a second time. Charlotte was very wise to stay at Lucas Lodge. I am sure she is far happier with her baby! A girl for Charlotte, a boy for Jane. I wonder which it will be for us?” she mused, resting her hand on her stomach. “Do you mind?” she asked him.

“No.”

“Not even a little bit? You do, after all, need an heir.”

“A girl will do as well as a boy; in our family it has never mattered. Besides, if we do not have a boy this time, we will have one next time.”

“If there is a next time.”

“Do you not want more children?” he asked, looking at her with interest.

“I will let you know, once I have had this one!” said Lizzy.

She had spoken mischievously, but her words had reminded him of his fears and his brow clouded.

“I wish there were another way or that I could take this from you,” he said seriously.

“What, have the baby for me? You would be the first man in history to do so!”

He smiled, but there was something troubled in his smile.

“If anything should happen to you…”

“Nothing will happen to me,” she said, stroking his hand.

“No, of course not. I just do not like to think of you in pain.”

“Then do not think of it. Think of the ball instead—though, if I cannot escape the attentions of Mr. Collins, you will no doubt have to think of me in pain, and, even worse, see it, for he is sure to step on my toes!”

“That, at least, I can prevent,” said Darcy. “If he claims your hand I will rescue you, I promise you.”

“Will you ride up on a white charger?”

“I brought one with me from Pemberley especially,” he remarked.

Lizzy laughed.

“I am very glad we came,” she said, leaning back against him and smiling contentedly. “It has done me good to see Jane again. In particular, it has done me good to be able to talk to her as it has set my mind at rest on a few things which were worrying me.”

They continued to talk, but as they did so, Darcy continued to be troubled. Elizabeth had had her sister to talk to, but he had talked of his fears to no one. He knew that she would soon be facing an ordeal that neither his wealth nor his position in the world could help her with. Worse, it brought back dark memories of the night of his sister’s birth, when, as a ten-year-old boy, he had wandered, desolate, through the halls of Pemberley, whilst anxious voices had echoed down the corridors.

So troubled was he by these memories that he was glad when Elizabeth exclaimed, “I believe your aunt is here!” and looking out of the window, he saw Lady Catherine’s coach.

The coach rolled to a halt. Footmen jumped down from the roof and opened the door, and Lady Catherine stepped out. Behind her followed Mr. Collins.

Lady Catherine’s commanding voice could be heard through the window, even though it was closed: “… terrible roads… small park… intolerable drive…”

Interspersed were Mr. Collins’s exclamations, “So noble… so good… so condescending…”

And so the odd couple proceeded from the coach to the front door.

“Poor Jane!” said Elizabeth. “We had better go and help her make her unexpected guests welcome.”

“I would rather stay here with you,” said Darcy.

“Do not tempt me! But I cannot leave my sister to face your aunt alone. If I do not miss my guess, Lady Catherine will be criticising everything and everyone roundly.”

And so it proved. As Lizzy and Darcy left the library and crossed the hall, Lady Catherine’s voice could be heard saying, “And so you are settled in Nottinghamshire, Mrs. Bingley. A very inconvenient country. It has the worst weather in England, I believe.”

As Lizzy and Darcy entered the drawing-room, the scene was revealed. Jane stood by the fireplace, with her husband beside her, endeavouring to welcome Lady Catherine. Lady Catherine, however, would not let them speak. Mr. Collins was bobbing up and down behind her ladyship, endeavouring to agree with everything she said, whilst at the same time ingratiating himself with Jane and Bingley and smiling pompously at Mr. and Mrs. Bennet.

Mr. Bennet picked up a newspaper and began to read it assiduously, but such a scene was as welcome to Mrs. Bennet as it was unwelcome to her husband, and she replied firmly to Lady Catherine, “On the contrary. Nottinghamshire has some of the finest weather in the country.”

“If it had some of the finest weather in the country, then it would not be snowing,” said Lady Catherine.

“Quite so,” said Mr. Collins. “Oh, indubitably so.”

“I believe that any country may have snow in December,” said Bingley peaceably.

“We would not dream of it in Kent,” said Lady Catherine.

“In every way a superior country,” said Mr. Collins. “And Rosings Park is one of its finest houses.”

“Only one of its finest houses?” enquired Mr. Bennet with a wink at Lizzy.

Lady Catherine turned towards Mr. Collins with raised eyebrows.

“That is to say, the finest house in Kent,” said Mr. Collins, “a positive jewel in the crown of the countryside, a most noble and elegant dwelling of magnificent and munificent proportions that vies with its illustrious owner in its sagacious and splendid proportions of magnificent munificent sagacious…”

He trailed away in some confusion, having lost himself in the labyrinthine excesses of his compliment.

“You express yourself very well,” said Mr. Bennet gravely.

“Papa!” said Elizabeth, trying to control her laughter. “You forget yourself!”

“Do I, my dear?” he asked mildly.

“That is to say, you forget to welcome Jane’s guests,” she said.

“Ah, yes. Never mind. I am sure Jane is capable of welcoming them herself. If you will excuse me, I believe that Mr. Bingley has a library and I am eager to explore its riches.”

“Lady Catherine, will you not sit down?” asked Jane, as her father left the room.

Lady Catherine looked at the sofa as though wondering whether it was fit to carry her illustrious personage, then said, “I think I will retire to my room.”

“You must be fatigued after your journey,” said Mrs. Bennet.

This was a challenge Lady Catherine could not resist.

“I am never fatigued,” she said. “I do not believe in fatigue. Pray ring for some tea.”

And so saying she removed her cloak, which she handed to Mr. Collins. She sat down on the sofa, peeling off her gloves as she looked around.

“You have a few fine pieces of furniture,” she said to Jane. “The table is pretty.” She looked at the other pieces as if to say, But the rest is not.

Jane thanked her politely.

“And so, you have just had a baby. A boy, I understand.”

“Yes, your ladyship,” said Jane, sitting down in a chair by the fire.

“I saw no point in having a boy myself,” said Lady Catherine. “Since my sister had already had one, I decided I would have a girl instead.”

They were by now all seated.

“It is all very well deciding to have a girl when there is no entail,” said Mrs. Bennet with a heavy sigh. “Once an entail is involved there is no knowing what will happen.”

“The de Bourghs have never believed in entails,” replied Lady Catherine grandly.

“And I am sure I have told Mr. Bennet the same thing until I am blue in the face, but will he listen to me? No. We must have an entail, though why we must have one I cannot imagine,” said Mrs. Bennet. “If not for Kitty, I do not know what we should do.”

This remark surprised everyone who was not privy to Mrs. Bennet’s plan of marrying her younger daughter to Mr. Collins’s brother and her hopeful belief that Mr. Collins himself would soon be dead.

Lady Catherine ignored her and said to Elizabeth, “You must have a girl.”

Mrs. Bennet shook her head firmly.

“No, Lady Catherine, with that I cannot agree,” she said. “Girls are a great deal of trouble.”

“Not if they have a governess,” said Lady Catherine. “A great deal of trouble is just what a governess will prevent. I have been the means of supplying a great many governesses to a great many deserving families and they have all thanked me for the attention most effusively. Four nieces of Mrs. Jenkinson are most delightfully situated through my means, and I have sometimes recommended young ladies who were merely accidentally mentioned to me. The families are always delighted with them. You, girl,” she said to Kitty. “Do you have a governess?”

“No, your Ladyship,” said Kitty.

“And you?” she said to Maria Lucas.

“No,” admitted Maria.

“And you?” she asked Mary.

“I have found that personal study is much more efficacious than the exhortations of another female,” said Mary. “By virtue of reading and making extensive extracts, I have, without any assistance, become the most accomplished young lady in the neighbourhood.”

“Indeed? And how large is your neighbourhood? No, do not reply. It is the size of a pocket handkerchief, I suppose. It is clear to me that you have all been sadly neglected,” said Lady Catherine. “Mrs. Bennet, you must take your remaining daughters in hand. It will not to do have them running off with stewards’ sons like your other girl. A nice, sensible curate would do for them, I am sure.”

“I hope I know my girls’ entitlements better than to think them fit for nothing more than a curate,” said Mrs. Bennet. “Now that Jane and Lizzy are so well settled, I see no reason why they should not marry lords. I am sure they are good enough.”

Lady Catherine ignored her and turned to Elizabeth.

“If you have a girl, she will be able to marry the Duke of Wexington’s son. He is at present two years old and will remain two years her senior throughout his life. It is a good age difference, and of course he comes from the very best family.”

“Since the baby is not born yet, it seems a little early to be finding her a husband, particularly as she may be a boy,” remarked Elizabeth.

“It is never too early,” said Lady Catherine.

“In this I have to agree, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Bennet. “It really is never too early to think of suitable matches, for you have no idea how difficult it is to find people later on.”

“And then there is the Devingshire boy,” said Lady Catherine. “He might do, although Lord Devingshire looks like a sheep, and it would perhaps be wise to wait a few years and see which of his parents the boy favours.”

“I thank you for your interest, but I am sure our son or daughter will be able to choose their own spouse with very little help from us. Darcy and I managed to find each other. Our child will only need to follow our example to make the best match possible.”

Mrs. Bennet, completely misunderstanding Elizabeth, gave a happy sigh and said, “You are right, Lizzy, you caught a man with ten thousand a year and an estate in Derbyshire. I am sure your daughter will do just as well.”

As the days passed, the house began to take on a festive air. Greenery was brought in from the gardens to decorate the house with holly, ivy, and mistletoe adorning the pictures or threading their way through the banisters. Rich smells wafted up from the kitchens, and the scent of winter spices and rich fruit cakes filled the air. Kitty and Maria could be heard giggling as they hastily hid half-wrapped presents whenever anyone unexpectedly entered their rooms, whilst Mary began making Christmas extracts.

The day of the ball approached. It had been arranged for Christmas Eve, a time of celebration, and there was an air of excitement when the day arrived.

“How is everything coming along?” asked Mrs. Bennet.

“It is all well in hand,” said Caroline before Jane could speak. “Mr. Collins and his brother will make two extra gentlemen, but that is never to be deplored. They dance, I hope?”

“Mr. Collins certainly takes to the floor with alacrity,” said Darcy. “I remember him dancing with Elizabeth at the Netherfield ball. It was a most edifying spectacle!”

Elizabeth laughed outright.

“Poor Mr. Collins! He tries very hard, but I pity the lady who stands up with him. He turns in all the wrong places and is constantly treading on his partner’s toes or the hem of her gown.”

“I am sure the young ladies hereabouts will not mind. They are used to dancing at the local assembly, and assembly balls, you know, do not produce the best dancing…” She turned to Mr. Darcy “… as I am sure you remember only too well.”

“Perhaps not, but they produce a great deal of pleasure for those who know how to enjoy them,” said Darcy.

“Aye, they do very well, but they are not to be compared with a private ball. Are there any eligible young men about?” Mrs. Bennet asked Caroline.

“Never fear, your daughters will have a choice,” said Caroline in a droll voice.

“And you too, I hope. You are not getting any younger, and if you do not look sharp you will soon be an old maid.”

“Mama!” said Jane.

But Caroline was not at all put out.

“I thank you for your kind concern,” she said with a superior smile.

“Well, my dear, someone must be concerned, and as you have no mother then I will take it upon myself. I found three good husbands for my own girls last year and I have found another one for Kitty only last week, so I am sure I will be able to find someone for you before the end of the year.”

“Ah, yes, you did an admirable job of finding a husband for your youngest daughter. Darcy’s steward’s son, was it not? And acquired in such an unusual fashion,” said Caroline.

Darcy stepped in, turning the conversation away from such dangerous waters.

“Tell me, Bingley, who have you invited to the ball?”

“You must ask Caroline,” said Bingley. “She is the one who has managed everything.”

“She seems to be a very managing young woman,” said Mr. Bennet with an innocent air.

Elizabeth hid her laugh behind her cup of tea.

“Caroline has been a great help,” said Jane fairly.

Caroline smiled graciously and was soon reciting the guest list. It consisted of all the local worthies, together with some good neighbours with whom Jane and Bingley had become friends.

“A fair-sized ball,” said Darcy.

“Not as splendid as the balls at Pemberley, but I believe it will do,” said Caroline. “Charles means to buy a house in London soon, and the guests there will of course be more refined.”

“A house in London?” asked Mrs. Bennet.

Jane’s face fell at her mother’s eagerness.

“Why, that will be the very thing,” said Mrs. Bennet.

Fortunately for Jane’s nerves, the gong rang. It was a sign that it was time for them to retire to their rooms and dress for the ball.

The weather had remained snowy, but the local roads were still traversable. Jane had had only had three letters from more distant neighbours excusing themselves. The rest were looking forward to the evening’s entertainment.

Mr. Collins’s brother, who had been unable to join them earlier on account of business, was to arrive for the ball and then stay for a few days. It was an event which Kitty did not relish. She had told Mary and Maria that they must on no account leave him alone with her, and she sought her married sisters’ help as well.

“Never fear, you will not have to marry him,” said Elizabeth.

“You do not know how determined Mama can be,” said Kitty.

“I know exactly how determined she can be,” said Elizabeth, “but Papa will be on your side. He will not want you to marry a stupid man, and he will not see you forced into a marriage that is distasteful to you, you know.”

“I wish I had never heard of Mr. Collins’s brother,” sighed Kitty.

Elizabeth could not help but agree. Her mother had talked of him constantly for the last few days.

They parted on the landing. Elizabeth retired to her room, where she chose an amber muslin to wear. It suited her complexion, but she felt out of sorts as she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, and when Darcy entered her room, looking immaculate in a ruffled white shirt with a black tailcoat and tight fitting breeches, Elizabeth gave a sigh.

“Are you unwell?” he asked in concern.

“No, not unwell, just…”

“Unhappy?” he asked searchingly.

“No, not exactly. I was just thinking that you look every bit as handsome as the day I met you, whereas I”—she looked down at her bloated figure, clothed in a tent-like dress—“I am not the same at all.”

“No,” he said, taking her hands. “You are far more beautiful.”

She laughed, but there was no laughter in his eyes. His words were sincere.

“What did I do to deserve you?” she said. “I must have done something very good.”

“I believe you played a sonata without striking one false note,” he teased her.

“Ah, so that was it! Yes, I remember it now. You are right, of course, that feat entitled me to such a husband. I believe I deserve you after all.”

“That is better,” he said hearing her laugh. “Are you ready to go down?”

“Yes, I am.”

He gave her his arm and together they went downstairs.

Some of the guests had already arrived and there was a buzz of conversation. Elizabeth and Darcy went through into the ballroom where the musicians were tuning their instruments before striking up the opening chords of the first dance. The guests took their partners and arranged themselves around the ballroom.

Elizabeth took Darcy’s hand, causing a few raised eyebrows, for it was not customary for husbands to partner their wives, but she did not care. She saw no reason why she should not enjoy herself. When the dance ended, however, she was too fatigued to dance any more, so Darcy fetched her an ice and sat down beside her.

“You must not ignore the other guests,” she said. “You will shock everyone if you spend the evening with your wife.”

“I am used to shocking people at balls. I might as well enjoy myself into the bargain,” he told her.

But when one of Jane’s neighbours, Mrs. Withington, drew near, accompanied by a plain young girl, Darcy’s enjoyment was at an end. Mrs. Withington made it clear that her niece did not have a partner. Without precisely asking Mr. Darcy to offer the girl his hand, it was obvious that, as a gentleman, he could do no less.

“I hope Miss Withington will do me the honour of partnering me,” he said, standing up.

The girl blushed prettily and Darcy led her onto the floor.

Elizabeth could not help thinking of another similar occasion some years ago, when he had refused to dance with another partnerless young lady, who had just happened to be herself, and she was pleased to see how far his manners had improved.

Mrs. Withington sat down beside Elizabeth.

“It was very kind of your husband to ask Susan to dance. I did so want her to enjoy herself this evening, but it is difficult for the girls; there are not enough young men to go round.”

As if to underline the point, Kitty and Maria approached and sat down close by.

“It is a pity,” went on Mrs. Withington, “for Susan loves to dance, and I do not know where she is to find another partner.”

She looked around the room, assessing each gentleman in turn. “She has already danced with young Lindford and Captain Collins…”

“Captain Collins?” asked Elizabeth. “I did not know he had arrived.”

“Yes. In fact, here he is now with my husband.”

Coming towards them were two men. The elder, Mr. Withington, was a plain but affable looking man of about fifty years of age and next to him was a very handsome young man indeed, with a good bearing and a good-humoured countenance. Elizabeth’s eyes widened in surprise. He was nothing like Mr. Collins!

Mr. Withington saw his wife and walked over to her, bringing Captain Collins with him. He made the introductions and Elizabeth greeted him warmly.

Kitty, hearing the name of Captain Collins, kept her back firmly turned towards him and talked to Maria with a determined animation, but when Mr. Withington addressed her by name she was forced to turn round, her face a picture of mulish resignation. But on seeing Captain Collins, her eyebrows rose and her expression brightened so much that the transformation was comical.

“You look surprised,” said he to Kitty. “Have I done something to startle you?”

“No, not exactly. It is just… well, you are not what I was expecting, that is all.”

“I did not know that you were expecting anything, but perhaps my reputation precedes me,” he said.

“In a way it does. You see, I know your brother.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes. You are not very like him. In fact, you are not like him at all. You do not seem like the sort of man who would have a brother in the church.”

“We are four brothers. Out of so many, one of us was almost certain to be a clergyman.”

“Four of you?” asked Kitty. “I had no idea. And are you all so very different?”

“Yes, I believe we are. Your friend is the cleverest of us—”

Kitty looked startled at this, and Elizabeth was no less surprised, for it did not seem possible that Mr. Collins should be the cleverest of any family. But she concluded that Captain Collins was being kind.

“And my brother Samuel, who is in the navy, is the handsomest,” went on Captain Collins. “He has broken a dozen hearts already and he is only nineteen. Henry is the pompous one. He is already making his mark in politics and is such a windbag that he cannot fail to do well. But enough of them. Would you consent to tell me more about yourself as we dance?”

And so saying, he offered her his hand.

She accepted with alacrity and the two of them, making a handsome couple, went onto the floor.

“Well!” said Mrs. Bennet. She had seen everything from the other side of the room and she had now joined Elizabeth in her desire to talk about it. “Did I not tell you how it would be? I knew it. Another daughter married. What luck!” She looked around the room for Mr. Collins and beckoned him over. “I must congratulate you on your brother,” she said. “My girls have just been introduced to him. Such a handsome man!”

Mr. Collins looked surprised but was quick to accept the compliment and said that his brother had been called an unusual looking gentleman by no less a personage than Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

“And so he is, for such looks are not often to be met with,” said Mrs. Bennet. “He has all the advantages of a fine face and a fine person. Height, address, manners: all good. You must be very proud of him.”

“Indeed we are. I may say that, after myself, he is the most notable member of the Collins family. He has not the good fortune to be patronised by such a great lady as Lady Catherine, but he has drawn down some very estimable patronage of his own.”

“Yes, I am sure he has. Such a worthy young man will not fail to attract attention amongst influential people. He will quickly rise in life, I am sure. You must invite him to visit us at Longbourn. We would be very glad to have him with us.”

“You are too kind,” said Mr. Collins.

“Not at all. He is welcome at any time.”

Mrs. Bennet watched Kitty and the Captain whilst Mr. Collins turned his attention to Mr. Bennet, complimenting him on his fine house, his elegant daughters, and his notable son-in-law.

To put an end to the fulsome compliments, Mr. Bennet began to ask him about his brother and laughed quietly to himself as Mr. Collins continued to talk.

The dance came to an end. Captain Collins escorted Kitty back to her family but then bowed and withdrew.

“But what is this? Where is Captain Collins going?” asked Mrs. Bennet. “Why is he not staying to talk to us?”

“He is engaged to Miss Porter for this dance,” said Kitty. “But never fear, he has asked to take me into supper.”

Mrs. Bennet was in raptures.

“What did I say? I knew how it would be. Kitty, my dear, you have never looked better. You are becoming quite a beauty. You are in looks tonight. And dance! I have never seen anyone lighter on their feet. We will have another wedding this year, you mark my words. Did I not say that Captain Collins was just the man for you? And what a life you will have! All the fun of being married to an officer, and then Longbourn when your father dies. What a thing for Mary and me, being secure in our home!”

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, but Kitty was too happy to mind about her mother’s matchmaking, and even the thought of living with her mother after her father’s death did not dampen her spirits. Indeed, she said she was sure that, by then, she and her husband would have enough money to build a dower house for Mrs. Bennet.

Elizabeth was by this time so far rested that she was able to dance once more. She had not taken more than a dozen steps, however, when she gave a grimace.

“Is anything the matter?” asked Darcy.

“No, just a twinge,” she said. “But I think I had better sit down.”

He gave her his arm and they rejoined her family. Mrs. Bennet asked if she was quite well and Jane looked at her in concern, but Elizabeth reassured them. Fortunately for Elizabeth, after a few minutes’ fussing, Mrs. Bennet saw Captain Collins coming towards them, for supper had just been announced.

“Now, Kitty, stand up straight,” she said.

“Mama!” replied Kitty.

“Ah Captain Collins, there you are,” said Mrs. Bennet. “All set to claim Kitty. It is a pleasure to see you both together, never were two people more well suited. I am sure your brother must feel it as much as we do. How fortunate for us that he was able to visit you this week.”

Captain Collins looked surprised and said that he was not aware that his brother was in the neighbourhood.

“Not in the neighbourhood? Why, Captain Collins, here is your brother before you,” she said, stepping back to reveal him.

Captain Collins looked at her enquiringly, but Mrs. Bennet did not notice his perplexed expression, for she was too busy congratulating Mr. Collins on having such a delightful brother.

“But that is not my brother,” said Mr. Collins. “He sent his apologies this afternoon, business preventing him from attending this most worthy and illustrious gathering.”

“Not your brother?” asked Mrs. Bennet, staring at Mr. Collins. “Of course he is your brother. He was introduced to us by Mr. Withington and Mr. Withington would not lie about such a thing.”

Elizabeth stifled a gurgle of laughter. “Mama, Mr. Withington introduced him as Captain Collins; he said nothing about him being Mr. Collins’s brother. Collins, you know, is not an uncommon name.”

Mrs. Bennet was dumbfounded. But she quickly recovered herself.

“No, indeed, it is very common,” she said, sounding very much aggrieved. “I never met with such a common name in my life, indeed it is very vulgar. Twice now my girls have been deceived by a man named Collins.”

“Mama!” said Elizabeth.

But Mrs. Bennet was unrepentant until Captain Collins apologized most gallantly—and with laughing eyes—for not being the brother of their friend.

“He is no friend of mine,” said Mrs. Bennet bitterly.

Elizabeth was mortified, and Darcy touched her arm in silent sympathy.

Mr. Collins, meanwhile, apologized so many times for not being related to the most admirable captain that Mrs. Bennet at last recovered her good humour. A good-looking Captain was not to be overlooked, even if he was not in line for the entail.

It was time for supper. Captain Collins escorted Kitty, and the rest of the guests began to file through to the supper room.

As Elizabeth took Darcy’s arm she gave another grimace and said to Darcy, “Do you know, I do not feel like eating. In fact, I am feeling a little unwell. I think I will retire for the night.”

Jane, who had been following Elizabeth into supper, said, “Would you like me to come with you?”

“Yes,” said Elizabeth. “I rather think I would if you do not mind leaving your guests.”

“They are all going into supper and after that, you know, they will be going home,” said Jane. “The weather being so bad, we thought it best to set an early end to the evening. I will stay with you until supper is over and then I will come down again to bid them farewell.”

Supported on one side by Darcy and on the other by her sister, Elizabeth made her way slowly upstairs, but by the time they reached her room it was clear that she was feeling more than a little unwell.

The baby was on the way.

Darcy, feeling suddenly helpless, stood awkwardly beside the door.

“The doctor is downstairs,” said Jane. “Go and fetch him?”

Glad, for once, to be told what to do, Darcy ran downstairs and went into the supper room. He looked about him and caught sight of the doctor at the end of the table. He went over to him and spoke to him in a low voice. The doctor nodded, excused himself, and rose to his feet. Bingley, sensing something was happening, followed them, leaving the rest of the guests to enjoy themselves.

“I think it would be as well if you were to have a message sent to the midwife,” said the doctor as he began to mount the stairs. “Her name is Mrs. Parsons, and she lives on the far side of the village green. The footmen will know where to find her.”

Darcy gave instructions for the midwife to be fetched, then made to follow the doctor upstairs.

“No,” came a voice at his ear. “You cannot go up. They will not let you in the room. I know. I tried.”

Darcy noticed Bingley for the first time. His thoughts had been so full of Elizabeth that he had not seen him, but he was very glad of his friend’s presence. There was something reassuring about Bingley’s good-natured countenance and his friendly voice.

“Of course. You know. You have already been through this,” said Darcy.

He tried to speak lightly, as though his wife had a baby every day of the week, but his voice was full of anxiety and his face was strained.

Bingley put a friendly hand on his arm.

“Come and eat some supper,” he said. “Nothing will happen for quite some time, believe me.”

“Some supper?” asked Darcy incredulously, looking at Bingley as if he had run mad. “You cannot expect me to eat at a time like this.”

“It is difficult, I know, but you must make the effort. It is going to be a long night and you must keep your strength up.” As Darcy continued to look scandalised at the mere thought of eating when Elizabeth was suffering, Bingley added, “Elizabeth might need something, and you will be no use to her if you are weak from lack of food.”

Darcy’s attitude changed at once and he followed Bingley into the supper room, but his eyes kept drifting upwards as though he thought that, by straining them, he might be able to see through the ceiling.

Bingley led him over to a spare chair and with difficulty Darcy drew his eyes away from the ceiling and sat down. The long table was laid with a snowy cloth on which porcelain and silverware glistened. Pyramids of fruit were set in the middle on ornate stands, and every kind of dish was set on silver platters in between.

Darcy looked at the appetising food as though it were ashes, for he could not think how he was going to eat any of it, but he knew he must make the effort, and with reluctance, he took some chicken and cold beef. He lifted a forkful of chicken to his mouth but it tasted like sawdust.

Around him, the other guests talked. He tried to take an interest in their conversations, but everything they said seemed shallow and inconsequential and he could not bring himself to join in. Indeed, he scarcely knew how to answer them when they asked him a question.

The grandfather clock’s pendulum seemed to swing in slow motion, as the seconds seemed like minutes and the minutes passed like hours.

After answering one particularly stupid question he found himself wishing the guests would hurry up and leave, but when they had at last all departed and he had retired to the drawing-room, he realised how much more difficult it was without their presence. The noise and the necessity of making the odd response to a question had kept him turning outwards, but now he found his thoughts turning inwards. So it was with relief that he heard the door opening and Bingley entered the room.

“Well, that is the last of them. They have all gone,” said Bingley.

“And your sisters?” asked Darcy.

“Louisa and her husband have retired for the night. Caroline offered to help with Elizabeth, but Jane told her there was nothing she could do and so Caroline too has gone to bed. Mrs. Bennet was with Elizabeth, but as she would talk of nothing but Kitty and Captain Collins, Jane has managed to persuade her that she should retire.”

“So Elizabeth is with Jane as well as the doctor and the midwife?” asked Darcy.

“Yes.” He spoke reassuringly. “She is in good hands.”

Darcy nodded, then walked over to the fireplace where he stood lost in thought.

“Come, you cannot stand about like this,” said Bingley. “You must do something. Have a hand of cards with me.”

“I cannot think of cards at a time like this.”

“A game of billiards, then.”

“No!” snapped Darcy. Adding more gently, “No, thank you.”

“You must do something, you know.”

Darcy paced to the other side of the room and took up a book, but he quickly dropped it again.

“It will be all right,” said Bingley sympathetically. “I imagined every kind of tragedy when Jane was giving birth, but here I am with a fine son and a healthy wife. It will be the same for you.”

“If only I could believe that,” said Darcy, coming to a halt. “But I keep remembering…”

He broke off.

“Yes?” asked Bingley.

“I keep remembering the night Georgiana was born.”

“Ah.”

Darcy sat down opposite his friend and leaned forwards with his elbows on his knees. He was not one to talk of his feelings in general, but there were so strong they would no longer be denied.

“It was a terrible night,” he said.

“You were ten years old at the time, I think.”

“Yes.”

Darcy could not help remembering the events of that night, although he tried to shut them out. The house had been strange. It had not been the safe and familiar home he had always known; it had been full of hurrying feet and anxious whispers.

He remembered the maids running up and down stairs with bowls of hot water and armfuls of clean sheets, and their worried faces. He had tried to talk to them but they had not had time for him and so he had gone down to the drawing-room, drawn there by the light, hoping to find someone to comfort him. His father would be there, he thought, to give him some manly words of advice. But instead he had found his father crying. He had been so shocked by the sight that he had crept back to bed again unnoticed.

The following day, he had been taken into the nursery and he had seen his little sister, Georgiana, but he had not been allowed to see his mother for three days, and when he had finally been allowed to see her, she had been sickly and pale.

“My mother… I thought she would die,” he said.

“But she did not die,” Bingley reminded him.

“No. But she was never the same again. Before she had Georgiana she was always riding or dancing or going out in the carriage. Afterwards she was sickly, and she died young. What if the same happens to Elizabeth? What if I have ruined forever her delight in roaming round the countryside? What if I have taken from her, her pleasure in dancing? What if I have turned her into an invalid—or worse.”

“Come, now, these are morbid thoughts,” said Bingley bracingly.

“I cannot expect you to understand,” said Darcy with a sigh, rising to his feet and turning away.

“You are wrong, I do understand. I thought exactly the same. But we do not make things better by worrying about them. Time enough to worry if worry is needed.”

Darcy roused himself.

“You are right,” he said, making an effort. “Let us have a game of billiards. Lead on.”

The two men went through into the billiard room, with Bingley speaking cheerfully all the time but not burdening Darcy with the trouble of expecting a reply. He set up the table and handed Darcy a cue and the two men began to play.

Darcy did his best to keep his mind on the game, but his shots were wild and Bingley won easily.

“Perhaps I should go up,” said Darcy when the game was over. “I could just see how she goes on.”

Bingley advised against it, but his words fell on deaf ears, for Darcy was already halfway up the stairs.

At the top, he met Jane just coming out of Elizabeth’s room. Jane was looking tired, but she smiled when she saw Darcy.

“How is she?” he asked.

“She is doing well,” said Jane reassuringly. “There is nothing to worry about. I will come down and tell you when there is any news.”

“Come down regularly,” he beseeched her. “Let me know how she is going on—but not if Elizabeth needs you,” he added.

“Very well,” she promised him. “I will come down often. Now go, and try not to worry. Everything will be all right.”

Reluctantly, he went downstairs and joined Bingley in a hand of cards, though he threw away his chances through inattention and lost miserably when he should have won.

At three o’clock, Jane came downstairs to tell him that things were progressing nicely and to chide Bingley for not having ordered some sandwiches.

“If you are going to sit up all night, you will need something to eat,” she said.

“And so will you,” said Bingley.

He made her sit down, for she was looking tired, and he ordered some soup and sandwiches for all three of them. It was just what they needed. Jane was clearly revived and Darcy at least had something to occupy him for a quarter of an hour. Having finished her soup, Jane went upstairs again and the two men were left together. They talked in a desultory fashion and from time to time indulged in a game, and the night dragged on until grey light started to filter through the curtains, and they realised that morning was on its way at last.

The silence was broken by the church bells ringing and when Darcy wondered aloud why they were ringing so early, Bingley said, “It is Christmas morning.”

“Of course!” said Darcy. “I had quite forgot.”

A cry came from above.

“And what a Christmas it is turning out to be,” said Bingley with a smile.

Darcy sprang up and was out of the door before Bingley could stop him. He met Jane on the stairs, coming down to tell him the news.

“How is she?” he demanded. “How is Elizabeth?”

“She is well, very well,” said Jane.

“And the baby?”

“Well.”

“And?”

“And a girl. As bonny a baby as I have ever seen,” said Jane, adding, “apart from little Charles, of course!”

Darcy caught her hand in thanks and then turned his steps towards Elizabeth’s room.

“Go quietly. She is sleeping,” said Jane.

He nodded, then went on. He was excited but also a little apprehensively too, for although Jane had said that everything was well, he would not be content until he had seen that it was so with his own eyes.

He turned the handle softly and went in. It took his eyes a few moments to accustom themselves to the gloom, for there was only one candle lit. The nurse was dozing in a chair by the fire, and in the bed, Elizabeth was sleeping. Her hair was spread around her on the pillow. Her colour was healthy, and there was a smile playing about her lips. He went over to her and kissed her. She stirred a little but did not wake.

His eyes moved across her to the cot beside the bed. In it was a baby, red and crumpled, but for all that, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life.

He heard a slight stirring beside him and turned to see that Elizabeth had awoken. He went over to her and kissed her again. She sat up and he put the pillows behind her to make her more comfortable, then she reached towards the baby. Eager to prevent her overtiring herself, he picked up his daughter and then wondered what he had done, for he had no idea how to hold her and he was suddenly afraid she might break. But she settled into his hands trustingly and he carried her over to Elizabeth. As he put her into Elizabeth’s arms, he thought he had never known a moment so perfect.

“There remains just one question to be answered,” said Elizabeth with a smile. “Is she your Christmas present to me, or is she my Christmas present to you?”

Darcy remained with Elizabeth all day and, despite the protestations of the nurse, he refused to move. Elizabeth further scandalised the nurse by talking of going downstairs after dinner. Her robust constitution had stood her in good stead and she had recovered quickly from the birth, so that Jane had no qualms about seconding Elizabeth’s determination. And so it was that Elizabeth joined the rest of the party that evening.

Lady Catherine declared herself scandalised and Mr. Collins agreed with her, saying that his own dear Charlotte had remained in bed for every day of the accustomed lying in period.

Elizabeth, knowing Charlotte’s nature, doubted it, but she was too happy to argue with him.

“Well, Lizzy, this is a joyful Christmas,” said Mr. Bennet. “Two daughters married and two cribs by their sides.” He turned to Mary, who was playing the pianoforte. “Excellent, my dear, a wonderful sonata, but today we want something different, I think. Play us some carols if you please.”

Mary determinedly finished her sonata, but once it was done she obliged the company by playing a selection of carols and the festive strains mingled with the crackling of the fire to create a cheerful scene.

“Another grandchild,” said Mrs. Bennet, smiling dotingly at the new baby.

Kitty and Maria were cooing at the two babies.

“And have you decided on a name?” asked Mr. Bennet.

“Something festive, in honour of the occasion,” said Caroline. “Carol, perhaps, or”—as though she had just thought of it—“Caroline. That would suit the occasion very well.”

Mr. Hurst said, “Humph,” from his place, reclining on the sofa, but Mr. Bennet said, “An excellent idea!” He twinkled at Elizabeth. “Or perhaps Catherine,” he added.

Lady Catherine looked graciously pleased.

“Oh, yes, a most illustrious name,” said Mr. Collins at once. “If I may say so, any child would be fortunate, nay graced, by so noble a name.”

“Or Lady Catherine,” said Mrs. Bennet.

Elizabeth laughed, but her father, never slow to indulge his wife’s follies, remarked, “True, Lady Catherine would be a fine name. But I believe there might be some little difficulty about christening the child with a title she does not possess.”

Darcy put a stop to their guesses by saying, “We have already decided on the name. She will be Elizabeth, like her mother, but we will call her Beth.”

“Well, to be sure, that is as good a name as any,” Mrs. Bennet conceded. For, having given it to her own daughter, she could hardly disagree. She gave a happy sigh and looked around the room with glossy sprigs of holly tucked behind the mirrors and red berries glowing in the candlelight, then letting her eyes come to rest on the cribs. “What a Christmas this is turning out to be. Three daughters married and now two grandchildren. If only Captain Collins should happen to call in the next few hours and ask for your hand, Kitty, my dear, my happiness would be complete.”