Darcy turned his gaze toward the far road. His face lit up with an immense smile. “Yes, you old baboon, I believe it is.”

Fitzwilliam was up like a shot, slapping his aching knee. A huge smile spread across his face as one hand came up to shield out the setting sun and the other rested on his hip, his eyes trying to make some sense of the dust in the distance.

“Amanda! ” bellowed her husband. “Front and center! ”

“For heaven’s sake! Fitzwilliam!” Darcy winced and covered his ear nearest to his cousin. “Inside voice, please, child.” He thought for a moment perhaps he was spending too much time with his grandchildren. “What I mean to say is, please exercise a little self-restraint and decorum.”

Then he himself turned to face the house. “Elizabeth! ” he bellowed. “Your babies are here! ”

It was an amazing sight, far in the distance, one after another, the beautiful family carriages turning onto the two-mile-long entrance to the main drive. Beyond the river, they could make out Harry and Alice’s carriage in the lead, as always; he was the undisputed leader among the cousins. After his carriage usually came his dearest friend Bennet George Darcy and his family. Following them both was a parade of the remainder of the cousins, or the Fitzwilliam Mob, as they had been christened by London society.

Following after the families’ vehicles were the carriages carrying nurses and nannies and maids and valets, then carriages of luggage, gifts, and toys.

It was a most impressive parade descending upon beautiful old Pemberley.

As they watched the carriages maneuver in the far distance, Fitzwilliam turned to Darcy.

“Cousin, before the Mob arrives and while we are blessedly still in quiet, shall we drink a toast to the ‘old girl’?”

Darcy smiled and nodded. “I had the same idea.” He poured another drink into their glasses.

“To Aunt Catherine,” Fitzwilliam began.

“Beloved matriarch of our family,” Darcy continued.

“Grande Old Dame,” said Fitzwilliam.

With one clink, they tossed back their whiskeys. Both smacked their lips and smiled, enjoying in silence their personal memories of her.

Darcy stretched his arms and legs, stiff from waiting. “By the way, did you receive a copy of Alice’s play for this year’s family theatrical? I believe there was a rather unnecessarily large part in it for you.” Darcy was incredibly proud of his youngest daughter’s gift for writing.

“You mean Meticulous and Libidinous—A Tale of a Tribune and a Centurion? Yes I did, and I can tell you I don’t care much for my part. The centurion, Libidinous, is bullheaded and loud, randy as a rabbit, and incredibly sloppy.”

“Well, what of my part? That tribune fellow, Meticulous , is just a finicky, overconfident snob. Proud as a peacock; thinks he knows everything. However does she come up with these characters of hers?”

After a brief silence, the two old friends burst into raucous laughter.

Closer than brothers still, they went forward to greet their families.

About the Author

Karen V. Wasylowski is a retired accountant living in Bradenton, Florida, with her husband, Richard, and their many pets. Karen and Richard spend much of their free time volunteering with the St. Vincent DePaul Society and Stillpoint House of Prayer, both charitable organizations that assist the poor living in the Bradenton community.

They are also actively involved with Project Light of Manatee, an all-volunteer organization that provides literacy instruction to poor immigrants and to members of the community who cannot read.