by Lory Lilian
Among the three gentlemen—all appropriately dressed for a late summer day—a spot of colour was making a lively, noisy contrast: pale green ribbons and lace with reddish brown curls dancing on a girl no older than four. She took tight hold of young William’s arm.
“May I kiss you, too?” she insisted, and the boy stepped backward.
“You most certainly may not! What a strange notion—to kiss me! That is the most unpleasant thing to do. Why would you want to kiss me?”
“Because you are my favourite cousin, and I like you very much.”
Young William looked at her and remained silent for a moment, thinking of all his cousins. There were Charles, Ellen and Francis Bingley and James Markham and Peter and George Wickham. He had to admit that he, too, liked this cousin the most, though she was very annoying and quite demanding sometimes, not to mention her strange, silly ideas.
“I like you too; you are my favourite cousin too, but you still cannot kiss me,” he replied. “Kisses are very unpleasant,” he concluded, as if teaching his younger cousin a lesson.
“No, they are not unpleasant,” the girl insisted. “Mama and Papa kiss me all the time and so do Aunt Georgiana, Aunt Lizzy and even Uncle Darcy. And more,” she whispered, “Papa kissed Mama many times; I saw it.”
Again the boy remained silent. He too had seen his father kissing his mother a few times, but he would not possibly admit it to anyone, and he did enjoy it when his mother and father kissed him good night or even during the day—but he would not admit this to his cousin either.
“Well, that is different—the rules are different when mothers and fathers are involved,” he concluded, with a meaningful look to his father, who had told him so many times.
Darcy tried hard to conceal his smile while the colonel called the girl to him and whispered something to her. The girl’s face lit instantly, and she suddenly turned to her cousin and said triumphantly, “When I grow up, you will beg me to allow you to kiss me, and I shall refuse you. And I shall not even dance with you unless you stop being so aloof and haughty!”
“I am not aloof or haughty; I am a very proper gentleman; Aunt Georgiana and Mrs. Reynolds have told me so many times,” the boy defended himself. He would also like to say that Mrs. Reynolds told him he was even more handsome than his father was at his age, but that was not something to discuss with his younger cousin. “And,” he continued, “I certainly will not beg you to kiss me or to dance with me; that cannot be true.” He turned to his father hopefully, searching for support. “Will I, father?”
Darcy could not hide his smile while he patted his son’s hair. “I cannot say for sure, son, but it might well be true—so you should be guarded with your words when you speak to young ladies around you.”
The boy remained still, looking from his father to his cousin so seriously that neither Darcy nor David could repress their chortles. A moment later, David took the girl in his arms and rolled around in the grass with her; the girl laughed with all her heart while young William stood silently at a distance. David grabbed the boy’s leg and pulled him to fall over them. The girl was thrilled and instantly climbed over her cousin, placing a quick kiss on his cheek. The boy wiped his face, torn between laughing along with the others and being upset for the mistreatment. Only when Darcy started to laugh, too, did the boy decide to imitate his father.
Elizabeth and Cassandra exchanged delighted smiles; the small burden on Elizabeth’s lap yammered softly, and she lifted the infant in her arms.
“You are awake, my love,” Elizabeth whispered and kissed the child’s cheeks. Cassandra caressed the child’s small hand and was rewarded with happy babbling.
In a moment, the girl left the men’s group and hurried to the ladies; she stopped in front of them, her cheeks red from laughter and exertion, her curls spread around her face, her green eyes shining.
“Oh, you are awake, my sweet, darling, precious little Anne,” she said while she knelt and kissed the infant’s face. “I am sooooo happy you are a girl like me, and you are so beautiful, and you allow me to kiss you,” she continued while the baby’s fingers entwined in the girl’s curls, and a mixture of laughter and babbling melted the two women’s hearts.
A few minutes later, with a last kiss to her cousin and one to Cassandra and Elizabeth, the girl returned to young William.
“Cassie is adorable,” Elizabeth said to her friend. “She is so beautiful, so sweet, and so good-humoured all the time.”
“So spoiled, so outspoken, so daring, so disobedient,” continued Cassandra looking after the little girl.
“So much like her mother. She does resemble you very much, Cassandra—both in spirit and in appearance. She is already a little beauty.”
“She is beautiful, is she not?” Cassandra asked as if she needed confirmation. With a long glance toward the little group, Cassandra’s voice became weaker and slightly trembling. “Elizabeth, I confess I do not care much about her beauty but just for her health. I cannot believe God has been so good to me as to complete my happiness with this precious gift. I did not dare hope I would have a child of my own—and here she is. I am happier than I ever dreamed, yet there are still times when the dream turns into a nightmare. After all these years, I am still not certain I deserve to be so happy. I know it is hard to understand me,” Cassandra said, fighting her tears as she smiled at her daughter who was waving to them.
“My dearest friend—I do understand you, though I do not dare presume to know the depth of your grief. However, I do have a philosophy that I have used many times and it has accomplished miracles more than once. Did I not share it with you?”
“No, you did not—and I would be more than grateful for a miracle.” Cassandra smiled tearfully.
“Then be prepared to be grateful, for here it is: think only of the past as—
“— as its remembrance gives you pleasure,” completed Darcy, who approached them, kissed Elizabeth’s hand and then took his daughter in his arms. “I learned it from Elizabeth a long time ago, and I can testify to its wisdom,” he explained to his friend while his eyes gazed adoringly upon his wife; she responded, laughing at him with sparkling eyes.
“It sounds very wise indeed,” Cassandra admitted, a short laugh vanquishing the sadness on her face. “I shall try to follow your advice, Mrs. Darcy—as your advice has proved quite useful to me more than once.”
Elizabeth reached for Cassandra’s hand, and then she smiled at her friend.
“You should do that, Lady Cassandra. As for useful advice—we will not quarrel about the relative amount of wisdom in our conversations since we first met seven years ago, your ladyship. Let us just say that our shared advice is a part of the past that always gives us pleasure and can be remembered with joy, shall we?”
Cassandra squeezed Elizabeth’s hand, and her face lit as she responded.
“I would not dare contradict you, Mrs. Darcy!”
A cool summer breeze stirred the fronds as the sun went down, and the master of Pemberley invited his guests to accompany him back to the house. Young William and little Cassie were the first to obey and hurried along the path. Elizabeth took her husband’s arm, and he placed another tender kiss upon her hand while their daughter rested on his chest. Right behind them, Lady Cassandra and David shared a quick, gentle kiss of trust and understanding, following their friends.
Leaving behind their past and taking with them only its remembrance, the Darcys and Fitzwilliams stepped together toward the future, which was laughing happily before them through the joyful voices of their children.
The End
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