Her companion laughed. “Ah, my vain beauty, must you hear the words?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Perhaps my vanity needs a bit of reassurance given the rejection it suffered upon out first meeting.”
Darcy rolled his eyes. “Will I never live down that stupid pronouncement? Very well.” He turned to her. “My beautiful, exceedingly tempting vixen, I am beyond pleased that you will be in Town this spring. Where do they live?”
“Hmm?” Elizabeth caught herself. Lost in his eyes for a time, Elizabeth had to remember to breathe. “I beg your pardon?”
“Your relations — the Gardiners. What is their address?”
Elizabeth realized that Fitzwilliam was ignorant of their being her relations in trade. She nervously licked her lips, fearing his reaction to an address in Cheapside. “My uncle’s house is on Gracechurch Street.”
He thought for a moment, a pause dreadful to Elizabeth’s feelings. “I believe you have mentioned them. They are your mother’s family?”
“Yes, my Uncle Gardiner is my mother’s brother. He is an exceedingly clever, well-read gentleman,” she quickly added. She so wanted Fitzwilliam to like the Gardiners.
He glanced at her. “I think you hold them in some esteem.”
“Oh, yes! They, along with Jane, are my favorite people in all the world!”
“Then I shall not be happy until I have made their acquaintance. I assume they will be here for the wedding?”
Elizabeth, thankful for his enthusiasm and embarrassed at her own loss of composure, could only manage a small smile and a nod. The pair continued onward in a companionable silence. By the time the phaeton reached Longbourn, Elizabeth’s spirits had recovered enough to be amused by their welcome.
Five young ladies stood huddled on the steps of the house, waving as Fitzwilliam brought the carriage to a stop. He managed to extract himself without incident and helped Elizabeth down. The ladies rushed forward, all talking to Elizabeth at once, while Fitzwilliam handed over the carriage to a stableman. Georgiana greeted Elizabeth with great affection, Jane complained about the cold, Mary spoke of a new piece of music Miss Darcy had acquired, Kitty talked about her new sketches, and Lydia’s attention was on Darcy’s fine team of horses. Fitzwilliam took the time to accept the personal welcome of each of the Bennet sisters before extending his arm to Elizabeth to escort her into the house.
Most of the others were still preoccupied with their own conversation, but Kitty and Georgiana seemed to take note of how possessively Elizabeth clung to Fitzwilliam’s arm. They looked at each other before dissolving into a fit of giggles. The laughing girls’ antics caught the attention of the others, and Lydia joined in while Mary and Jane were bewildered.
Elizabeth blushed, but her companion bore the scrutiny with great composure. As they slowly walked to the front door, it was opened by Mrs. Bennet herself. Elizabeth saw that her mother understood everything at a glance, and with an air of pride and triumph, the matron greeted Elizabeth’s beloved.
“Mr. Darcy! You are very, very welcome to Longbourn!”
* * *
The wedding of Charles Bingley and Jane Bennet was not unlike any other wedding in England. The bride was blushing and beautiful, the groom was nervous and happy, and the wishes, hopes, confidence, and predictions of the small band of true friends who witnessed the ceremony were answered fully in the perfect happiness of the union. Bingley’s sisters expressed their joy in an acceptable fashion although Miss Bingley’s congratulations seemed more sincere than Mrs. Hurst’s. Indeed, Caroline dropped all her resentment and paid off every arrear of civility to Jane. Unkind observers might have explained this turnabout to that lady’s attachment to a certain second son of an earl, and the author leaves it to the imagination of the reader to weigh the correctness of that conjecture.
Within a fortnight of the Bingleys’ removal for their wedding trip, Elizabeth arrived at the Gracechurch Street home of the Gardiners. Their welcome was all that was loving and expected. Unexpected was the gift awaiting her — a huge bouquet of flowers. The card simply read, “Yours, FD,” but it was enough to send Elizabeth into a fit of excitement.
The gentleman himself called the next day, accompanied by his sister, and if the Gardiners were taken aback by the presence of such august visitors in their house, their good breeding permitted them to face the extraordinary event with composure. The visit was enjoyed by all, but to the greatest degree by the two attached young people, and a dinner invitation was extended the next night at Darcy House.
Thus was spent the Season in Town, with regular intercourse between Gracechurch Street and Park Place. The subject of the Gardiners’ plan to visit the Peaks that summer arose, and due to the entreaties of the Darcy siblings, it was settled that the party, which would include Elizabeth, would stay at Mr. Darcy’s estate of Pemberley in Derbyshire rather than the nearby village of Lambton.
It might be supposed that Elizabeth had great concern over staying in the home of the man who courted her, but her fears proved to be fleeting. For by the time the Gardiner party arrived at the front door of Pemberley, it was not Miss Darcy’s smiling friend who was handed down from the carriage, but Mr. Darcy’s glowing affianced intended, sporting a beautiful ruby ring on her finger. Elizabeth could now enjoy the house and its gardens as a delighted lady, assured that Pemberley was fated to become her home.
You, dear reader, are undoubtedly surprised at the speed of these events. But Darcy remembered his family motto — Fortune Favors the Bold — and it served him exceedingly well.
* * *
Happy for all her maternal feelings was the day on which Mrs. Bennet got rid of her most deserving daughter. With what delighted pride she afterwards talked of Mrs. Darcy while visiting Mrs. Bingley may only be guessed. The author wished he could say, for the sake of her family, that the accomplishment of her earnest desire in the establishment of so many of her children produced so happy an effect as to make her a sensible, amiable, well-informed woman for the rest of her life, but he cannot. Though, perhaps, it was lucky for her husband, who might not have relished domestic felicity in so unusual a form, that she still was occasionally nervous and invariably silly.
Mr. Bennet missed his second daughter exceedingly. His affection for her drew him more often from home than anything else could do. He delighted in going to Pemberley, especially when he was least expected. In the meantime, he had to make do with the attentions of Cassandra the cat. Apparently, with neither Elizabeth nor Mr. Darcy in residence, Cassandra desired new fellowship and set her mind upon monopolizing Mr. Bennet’s time and lap. After recovering from his surprise, for the cat had never before shown the least interest in his company, the master of the house found Longbourn’s purring mouser an agreeable reading companion.
The Bingleys remained at Netherfield only a twelvemonth. So near a vicinity to her mother and Meryton relations was not desirable even to his easy temper or her affectionate heart. The darling wish of his sisters was then gratified, and Bingley bought an estate in a neighboring county to Derbyshire where Jane and Elizabeth, in addition to every other source of happiness, were within thirty miles of each other.
Mary was the only daughter who remained at home, and she was necessarily drawn from the pursuit of accomplishments by Mrs. Bennet’s being quite unable to sit alone. Mary was obliged to mix more with the world, but she still could moralize over every morning visit and spend the balance of her time at her pianoforte. She would marry a clerk who was much taken with her piety and talent, and she became Meryton’s greatest musician and her mother’s closest confidant.
Kitty, to her very material advantage, spent the chief of her time with her two elder sisters. In society so superior to that she had generally known, her improvement was great. She rejoiced in her art and was celebrated in Town as Mrs. Darcy’s other very accomplished sister, and she would in time marry well and live in London. She and her husband would haunt the exhibit halls and galleries of the great cities of the wo
rld.
Lydia spent much time at Pemberley, or rather, Pemberley’s stables. She and Georgiana would ride up and down the hills and dales of Derbyshire, until she caught the eye of a visitor who liked both horses and ladies. He was ripe to settle down after undergoing much misfortune in earlier days, and while Lydia was rather silly at times, she was very pretty and sweet, shared her husband’s love of horses, and had more of an engaging nature than the gentleman’s mother or sister-in-law. Mr. Bennet and Mr. Darcy had no qualms over Lydia Bennet becoming the future Lady Bertram and mistress of Mansfield Park in neighboring Northamptonshire, and it was hoped by all their friends that Lydia would have as good an influence over the reserved Mrs. Edmund Bertram as the former Fanny Price would have of the high-spirited Mrs. Thomas Bertram.
Georgiana did not begrudge her friend’s choice of husband — Thomas Bertram was too outgoing for her. Pemberley was now Georgiana’s home, and the attachment of Georgiana and Elizabeth was exactly what Darcy had hoped to see. They were able to love each other, even as well as they intended.
Georgiana had the highest opinion in the world of Elizabeth, though at first she often listened with an astonishment bordering on alarm at her lively, sportive manner of talking to her brother. By Elizabeth’s instructions, she began to comprehend that a woman may take liberties with her husband which a brother will not always allow in a sister more than ten years younger than himself. Georgiana would eventually marry a reserved and decent viscount, who loved his country estate as much as his new wife, and possessed the additional attraction of living no more than a half-day’s journey from Pemberley.
So not only could Elizabeth glory in the love and attention of her beloved Fitzwilliam and enjoy the delight of their children, she had the additional joy of living within easy distance of three of her sisters.
Elizabeth Rose Bennet flourished in her role as Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Her debut in London caused a sensation, particularly when the newlywed Darcys quit Town before the Season was done to retreat to Pemberley. No member of society was of two minds about Mrs. Darcy; she was dismissed by the envious as a rather pretty, simple country Miss, overwhelmed by the sophistication of the ton. Those who observed with unprejudiced eyes praised her as a breath of fresh air in stuffy society and proclaimed the lady lovely, kind, witty, and devoted to her family and friends.
The reason the Darcys spent so little time in London was clear to those who cared to think. In short order, Mr. Darcy’s ancestral estate of Pemberley become far more dear to his wife than Longbourn, and like her husband, the lady grew to jealously protect her family’s privacy there. The people of nearby Lambton proclaimed that the new Mrs. Darcy was the kindest and most generous of ladies. The Pemberley household quickly grew to love her, and even Bartholomew allowed that his new mistress was more than acceptable, although he still lorded it over the other servants. His employers tolerated the valet with amused fondness.
Thanks to the loving example of his wife, Mr. Darcy became more amiable and approachable, and acquaintances were astonished to see that the man could smile, after all. The Bennet family became his in his heart, and he withstood the foibles of his in-laws with great forbearance and charity.
A more unusual change was the chatter about Pemberley that from the private chambers of the house late at night a deep, masculine voice was occasionally heard singing love songs. Neither Mrs. Darcy’s maid nor Mr. Darcy’s valet would give credence to the gossip. Bartholomew particularly refused even to discuss the possibility of those reports’ accuracy.
The more distant members of the Darcy family were soon enchanted by the new mistress of Pemberley. The Gardiners became great favorites of the couple, and the families were often seen in each other’s homes in Derbyshire and London. The Fitzwilliams, after a bit of resistance, generally accepted Mrs. Darcy into their circle. Generally, the author reports, for Eugenie, Viscountess Fitzwilliam, ever aware of her destiny of becoming the matriarch of the House of Matlock, was a constant source of aggravation with her snide remarks and superior airs. Elizabeth withstood her barbs without injury, and amusingly observed to her dear husband that Eugenie’s extraordinary obnoxiousness put the former Miss Bingley’s previous behavior to shame.
As for her cousin, the improved Caroline Fitzwilliam, it might be too much to expect for Elizabeth and Caroline to be truly close and dear friends, but to the relief of their husbands, they were very cordial and enjoyed each other’s company when family gatherings took place. They were particularly inseparable when the viscountess was at her most annoying. Colonel Fitzwilliam claimed it was because the two ladies formed a unified front before a common enemy. Mrs. Fitzwilliam would rebuke her husband for his impertinence but never openly denied it.
Lady Catherine de Bourgh was extremely indignant at the marriage of her nephew, and as she gave way to all the genuine frankness of her character in her reply to the letter announcing its arrangement, she sent him language so abusive, especially of Elizabeth, that for some time all intercourse between aunt and nephew was at an end. But at length, by Elizabeth’s persuasion, Darcy was prevailed upon to overlook the offence and seek a reconciliation, and after a little additional resistance on the part of his aunt, Lady Catherine’s resentment gave way, either because of her affection for him or her curiosity to see how his wife conducted herself. She condescended to wait on them at Pemberley in spite of that pollution which its woods had received.
The annual gift of a case of very fine French Cognac for Anne de Bourgh on the occasion of her birthday, acquired through the patronage of Mr. Gardiner, certainly helped matters along between Rosings and Pemberley.
Charlotte Lucas’s loss of Mr. Collins was painful only in her fear and her family’s worries of her never finding a husband. But due to Miss Lucas’s visits to Darcy House in London and some slightly underhanded efforts of Mrs. Darcy, an attachment grew between Charlotte and a brother officer to Colonel Fitzwilliam. True, Northanger Abbey is quite a distance from Hertfordshire, and Captain Tilney might seem a bit wild for Elizabeth’s plain friend, but stranger marriages have proven successful, and there was no reason to believe that theirs would be more or less than was expected of such unions of the day.
All in all, the author can report that all lived happily ever after.
Or did they . . . ?
Epilogue
THE MERCHANT SHIP SLOWLY made its way through the gray-blue North Atlantic seas. The winds of March were sharp and cold that mid-day, forcing most of those taking passage to the North American colonies deep below decks. The captain and his crew hurried about at their usual tasks, hardly taking notice of the sole passenger who leaned on the larboard railing, deep in thought. The man was tall, his dark hair whipping in the breeze, his handsome face drawn and grim. His name was George Wickham, late of His Majesty’s ——shire militia, and he was sailing to Canada to begin again.
His solitary musings were interrupted by an intruder — a tall, stocky man in black who had just come up from below, his hat pulled down over his head. “May I join you, sir?” he asked Mr. Wickham.
“Stay downwind if you must empty your stomach, if you please,” replied he.
“Oh, no, I am not in distress; indeed I have been blessed with a remarkable constitution. It is my custom to take in the fresh air, so beneficial to one’s health. I see you share my opinion.”
“Actually, the air below was foul.” Mr. Wickham looked hard at the man. “Do I know you, sir? You seem familiar.”
“My name is Mr. William Collins. And with whom do I have the honor of conversing?”
Mr. Wickham introduced himself. “I remember you now. I met you in a small village in Hertfordshire — Meryton, it was. Yes, it was in the street, not long after I arrived.”
Mr. Collins looked at his companion, working his memory. “Yes . . . I thought you in the militia.”
“I thought you a clergyman,” Mr. Wickham shot back. “What are you doing here?”
“Sailing for Canada to minister to the heathens.�
�
“A missionary, then.” Mr. Wickham narrowed his eyes. “I thought you had a living in Kent from Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”
The tall man’s face darkened. “I did, I certainly did — but no longer. It was stolen from me!”
“What? It was my understanding that a living was for life.”
“I am an innocent victim of circumstance and villainy!” Mr. Collins declared. “I labored unceasingly to minister to the needs of my flock, always taking the advice of my patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh — may she rot — into account. My door was open to my parish at all hours. That was my downfall, my good sir. I was too trusting!” He shook his head. “A village girl came, a pretty little thing, seeking spiritual guidance. A young man had made unwelcomed advances, and she feared for her soul. Such tears, such distress! It was my duty to offer comfort in any way I could. She needed and appreciated my attentions, I dare say. No harm was done. I will go to my grave saying that the girl was in a far better humor when she left than when she came.”
Mr. Wickham smiled understandingly. “Of course, they usually are. So did her family find out?”
“No, but it seems that the servant provided by my patroness — an evil woman if ever there was one — was under orders to report back to her. Apparently, she made it sound as though I forced myself upon the girl. All rubbish, of course. Indeed, the girl practically threw herself at me! But I was given no chance to defend myself. Lady Catherine — a pox upon her name — summoned me to Rosings a week later to inform me personally that my services were no longer required, that she accepted my resignation, and that I should vacate Hunsford parsonage immediately.
“Of course, I demanded my right to face my accuser as any good Englishman. But my patroness’s blasted nephew said that the evidence was undisputable, that he had personally interviewed the girl, and that if I wished to avoid prosecution for assault, I should accept Lady Catherine’s generous offer of resignation. I had no choice.”
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