Epilogue
Two daughters married with little to no trouble at all to herself. Mrs. Bennet was a happy woman indeed.
Even still, the knowledge that she had but two weeks to arrange a wedding breakfast fit for a gentleman of noble blood, who had over ten thousand pounds a year, was insufficient to calm her ensuing distraction.
That was until she learned her charming future son-in-law was placing whatever resources she deigned necessary to arrange the wedding of her dreams at her disposal.
How lucky her second eldest was to have landed such a rich gentleman.
Lizzy—the mistress of Pemberley, reported to be one of the grandest estates in all of Derbyshire, a house in town, and likely more.
As Mrs. Bennet liked to say: “Jane’s situation is nothing by comparison. ”
Two daughters married indeed! And the most deserving at that.
Everyone who knew Mrs. Bennet knew the business of her life was marrying off her five daughters.
What a victory over her neighbor, Lady Lucas, the mother of Lizzy’s friend, Charlotte, even though said lady may or may not have known the two of them were in competition.
As for the feelings of Miss Charlotte Lucas herself in hearing her intimate friend’s happy news, she could not have been more delighted.
She had known all along that her friend, Eliza, was on the cusp of falling in love when she was away in Derbyshire.
Finally meeting the gentleman who had incited the sparks of Eliza’s tender regard was a pleasure in and of itself.
Charlotte’s initial impression: “This is a man truly worthy of my friend’s heart. ”
Elizabeth’s dearest sister Jane’s reaction to the news of the engagement was just as it ought to have been.
Though Jane was not one to boast of having known such a happy occasion would unfold all along, when she could, she subtly reminded Elizabeth how she provided the strongest of hints in the letter she penned on the eve of her elopement with Mr. Bingley: “Assured that my happiness is complete and my future promises to be even more so, my greatest wish is that yours will be too, dearest Lizzy, even as I suspect such a joyous prospect is closer than you know.”
Miss Caroline Bingley, after having vowed to stay away from her brother’s country home so long as Eliza Bennet resided under his roof, surprised no one with her apparent change of heart and sudden arrival at Netherfield Park on the heels of Mr. Darcy’s arrival.
Indeed, she had intended to arrive early, for she knew she must if she were to stand a chance of mitigating the potential damage her poison pen had wrought.
Her ensuing vexation in learning that Mr. Darcy and Eliza Bennet had not only cleared up any misunderstandings between them but were engaged was only outweighed by the gentleman’s edict that she was no longer welcomed at Pemberley.
Having done all she could to shield her intended from the vulgar propensities of her mother’s sister, Mrs. Phillips, and the unrelenting antics of three of the silliest girls in all of England, Elizabeth was relieved by the level of decorum, proper etiquette, and good taste exemplified by her London relations, her mother’s brother and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, who traveled from town to attend the nuptials.
When Elizabeth and her aunt Gardiner were alone, the latter expounded on her favorable impression of Mr. Darcy as follows: “There is something pleasing about his mouth when he speaks. And there is something of dignity in his countenance that would not give one an unfavorable idea of his heart.” Smiling warmly, she concluded, “I can see why you love him so much, my dear Lizzy.”
If only sentiments of that kind could be attributed to Mr. Darcy’s noble aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.
For someone whose frankness of character was so widely celebrated as hers, being forced to call her own excellent judgment into question was cause for considerable vexation.
Why, of course, she should never have left her unsuspecting, grieving nephew alone at Pemberley with no one to shield him from the likes of that little country upstart, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who was always hovering about.
There was nothing to do about it now—or was there? Anyone who would listen would surely attest to hearing her ladyship say: “That young woman – that so-called Mistress of Pemberley – has not heard the last from me.”
As for Mr. Darcy’s other relations, most notably his younger sister, Georgiana, who had been residing in Matlock with her aunt and uncle since her father’s death, she had since returned to Pemberley.
The emptiness in her heart that threatened to consume her in the aftermath of her great loss was promised to be filled with the love and kindness of a new addition to her family—the sister she always wanted.
As sorrowful as the passing of his beloved father had been, Darcy’s grief had been of some duration, suffered largely in secret long before his father closed his eyes for the final time.
The hardest part was over, and now he had Elizabeth’s love to strengthen him through any lingering heartache and pain that was sure to come.
Witnessing the growing attachment between his sister and his lovely wife was exactly what Darcy hoped to see.
And then there was George Wickham. As he had been the late Mr. Darcy’s godson and such a favorite at that, crossing paths with the gentleman was inevitable.
Elizabeth despised him for the injury and unnecessary heartbreak his sordid conspiracy with Caroline Bingley had inflicted.
On the other hand, neither she nor Mr. Darcy could hate him completely for as vile as he had proven himself to be, the greed which compelled him to shed light on the details of his misdeeds in exchange for money, had been, in its own peculiar way, the means of uniting them.
Pemberley, Derbyshire
As the Darcy carriage drew to a stop in front of the manor house, Elizabeth observed with absolute delight an even grander welcoming reception than when she first came to Pemberley so many months ago.
Mr. Darcy took her hand in his and raised it to his lips.
It was a tender expression of affection indeed, and one he had bestowed hundreds of times before, but this time, Elizabeth’s heart slammed against her chest in ardent appreciation and eager anticipation of what was yet to come when the two of them were alone.
Relinquishing her hand, Darcy opened the door and stepped down from the carriage. Next, he reached out his hand to his wife and assisted her.
“Welcome home, my love.”
Her cheerfulness she did not seek to suppress.
She gazed into her husband’s loving eyes.
“Fitzwilliam, my love,” Elizabeth began, her heart swelling with joy.
“I hardly know what I did to deserve such happiness, but I am filled with immeasurable gratitude in knowing I am mistress of all this for all time, and I shall be by your side forever more.”
“Dare I declare that your gratitude is second only to my own.” Standing in front of his beloved home with a multitude of faithful servants to bear witness to his affection for his bride, he raised Elizabeth’s hand to his lips and bestowed a lingering kiss.
“From the moment, I first laid eyes on you,” he began, “standing here in this very spot—”
Turning her hand, he kissed her palm. “—and despite my struggles, in vain, to deny it, a part of me always knew, my love, that Pemberley is where you are meant to be.”
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