The Unforgettable Mr. Darcy

Jane was the first to break their paralysis as she fairly flew into Elizabeth’s arms. “You are alive! Alive after all!” With her arms around her sister’s neck, the eldest Bennet daughter sobbed into her sister’s shoulder.

“I am so sorry for what you had to suffer!” Elizabeth murmured into her sister’s hair.

“I-It is q-quite all right,” Jane sobbed. “N-No trouble at all.” Elizabeth had to smile. Same old Jane, wanting to ensure that nobody else was uncom

fortable.

“Lizzy.” Elizabeth left Jane’s arms for her father’s. His eyes glistened behind his spectacles, and for a long moment he was too overcome for words. “Are you indeed well, my girl?” Stepping back, he examined her from head to toe.

“I am well,” she assured him, squeezing his hand. “I was ill, but that is at an end.”

Her father discreetly wiped one eye. “Therein lies a tale, I am sure.”

When he released her, Elizabeth was immediately seized by Kitty and Lydia. “Now we can stop wearing black!” Lydia exclaimed gleefully. “It does make me look so pale.”

“True!” Kitty’s eyes shone. “Oh, but all our clothes were dyed.”

Lydia’s eyes opened wide. “Which means we all need new frocks!” She looked beseechingly at their father. “Do we not need new gowns to celebrate Elizabeth’s return to us? It is only fitting.”

Elizabeth exchanged a smile with Jane. Lydia was quick to turn any situation to her advantage, even her own sister’s return from death.

Kitty bit her lower lip. “I don’t suppose you want your yellow bonnet back?” Elizabeth merely looked at her. “I did not dye it yet, but I added some orange flowers—”

“Which are the most garish things I have ever seen, if you ask me,” Lydia said tartly.

“They are not—!”

“Are too!”

Lydia and Kitty walked away, squabbling, which allowed Mary to embrace her older sister. She regarded Elizabeth solemnly. “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.”

Elizabeth blinked, unsure of an appropriate response. “Indeed.”

Mary nodded soberly, and then their mother was pushing her out of the way. “Lizzy, is it really you?”

“Of course, Mama.” Elizabeth held out her arms.

Her mother moved cautiously into the embrace, first squeezing one of Elizabeth’s arms. “You seem real enough.”

“I assure you I am quite real.” Elizabeth finally wrapped her arms around her mother. “The report of my death was erroneous. I was never dead.”

Tears flowed down Mrs. Bennet’s face even as she dabbed futilely at them with a lace-edged handkerchief. “It is you, my darling daughter! You have been restored to us.” She turned to her husband. “We have been very blessed.”

“We have indeed,” he agreed.

“This calls for a special celebration,” Mrs. Bennet declared, releasing Elizabeth. “A ham! We shall have a ham in your honor, Lizzy!” Before Elizabeth could respond, she had turned on her heel and was rushing back into the house. “Hill! Hill! We require a ham!”

Her father took Elizabeth’s arm to escort her into the house. “As you can see,” he observed with a wry smile, “nothing much has changed during your absence.”

On Elizabeth’s other side, Jane asked, “Would you like some tea? You must be famished.” Dear Jane, ever watchful of others’ needs.

“Yes, indeed. And there is a maid from the Ramsgate inn.” Elizabeth turned to see the maid standing by the carriage. “Can you make sure she receives food and a place to sleep tonight before she must return?”

Jane nodded and hurried back to the carriage to collect the girl.

“Ramsgate?” her father exclaimed. “What on earth were you about at Ramsgate?”

“It is a long story, Papa”—she patted her father’s hand—“but if you ply me with tea and biscuits, perhaps I can be persuaded to relate it.”