Epilogue
10 June, 1841
Pemberley, Derbyshire
My Dearest Elizabeth,
We have just returned from our son’s wedding and you are soaking in a much-deserved bath. I cannot believe Bennet is wed, or that we have a child old enough to take such a step. It makes me feel like an old man. Then I look at your sparkling eyes again and I am fully eight and twenty, lost to your charms.
Adding to my feeling of old age is the fact that Elinor is being courted by what I am sure you will tell me is a good young man, but all I see when I look at him is a young buck who wishes to take my daughter away. It is selfish, I know, but a part of me wishes she could be with me always. I know that is not what she wishes, so I will ensure she has the most favorable settlement possible. And a long engagement. I want plenty of time to investigate whoever she chooses. I have already asked Jones to look into Mr. Ashby. I know you will tell me it is too much, but surely you see the necessity? Now that I think about it, and your reaction to Adelaide Hutton, perhaps you will require no convincing. They are our children; there is no such thing as too careful.
Rich and Fred have been discussing their plans for a grand tour. I do not know how much they have mentioned to you, but I think they will be gone at least a year. I am comforted by the knowledge that they will be together, and with the advent of the railway, travel will become easier with every month that passes. Neither of them wishes for the living in my gift, and I have been meaning to ask you—what think you of giving it to young Joseph? Thomas has the navy and Jack is doing well in business with your uncle. Joseph seems the obvious choice, but perhaps you feel differently. I do not think Bingley’s youngest is interested in the church, but perhaps I should ask before making any decisions.
I hear you moving about and you will join me any moment in your silk robe, your hair loose down your back to dry before the fire. How I love these intimate moments with you that nobody but me is privy to! We have been wed nearly twenty-nine years, yet my heart still calls out for yours. You have been the greatest boon of my life, my dearest wife, and I thank God for you.
Your husband,
Fitzwilliam
12 September, 1841
Pemberley, Derbyshire
My Dearest Husband,
Our daughter is married! And only a few months after Bennet’s own nuptials. Our children are leaving the nest. The boys will be traveling on their tour soon, and Matilda will go back to school next week. Then it will once again be only you and me rattling around this enormous house, all our children having left us.
At least Elinor is settled only forty miles away. And what is forty miles of good road?
How tall and proud you looked walking her down the aisle today! And sad, too, though I suspect no one but I noticed. Elinor normally would have—the bond between you is as unshakeable as ever—but she was too focused on Mr. Ashby to pay attention to anyone else. That is as it should be, though I cannot help but feel a little bittersweet over it all.
Thankfully Matilda is not interested in suitors just yet. After the outcome of her parents’ marriage, I cannot blame her for wishing to avoid it for herself. But I do hope she finds a worthy man someday. Preferably a few years from now. I have had enough of my children moving away for some time.
Adelaide told me that she and Bennet love the house in Staffordshire. I know I have said it before and you are likely tired of the question, but do you truly believe we have done the right thing by having them live in the smaller estate? I know it is good for Bennet to practice running things without being in your shadow, or Adelaide in mine, but Oakley Hall is nothing to Pemberley. Do you truly think he will be ready to assume control of this estate when you have tired of running it?
While I am on the topic, I thought we could discuss taking a trip of our own. Not now—there has been too much upheaval of late to enjoy such a journey, but in a year or two. We could take Matilda if she wishes. Bennet could watch over Pemberley. There would be plenty of time to plan, and in another year, there will be even more railway lines than there are now. Traveling would be so easy!
I will not burden you with my ill-thought-out plans. But I do think we should consider it. Perhaps to celebrate your sixtieth birthday?
Your wife,
Elizabeth
6 September, 1844
Venice, Italy
My Dear Elizabeth,
Today I am sixty years of age and I as I look back on my life, I can only smile and think how very lucky I have been. I have a wonderful family, and we are blessed to all be in good health (I can hear you now saying we are also in good looks, and sending a saucy wink my way). The children are happy and settled, and Pemberley does as well as ever. Bennet is becoming the master I did not have the opportunity to be, for he has not been thrust into unexpectedly as I was. I am so very proud of him.
Richard is across the room from me now, likely composing a sonnet to his latest lady love. I jest, but I do find it amusing that a son of mine somehow turned out to be so very like Bingley. Fred is off researching some architectural design or another. His love of history, archaeology and the like are unmatched, as you know. It amuses me to see my studiousness paired with your teasing nature. It is quite the fascinating combination.
Elinor is a mother now—it shocks me to think of it sometimes—and yet it is true. We are grandparents, my love! How the time has rushed by! Our little girl is all grown up.
Matilda is being courted—he is not worthy of her, but I have taken your words to heart and am attempting to give him a fair chance—and I know it will not be long before she, too, is wed and running her own home and family.
I am nostalgic today, filled with memories and thoughts of the life I have lived. There have been many beautiful moments, many memorable people and places. There are things I will never forget.
But the greatest memories feature you—are because of you. The happiest times have been filled with you. The sweetest moments were always with you. And they always will be.
You are the best part of my life. You are the cause of nearly all my smiles. You have given me a beautiful family and made me a father—a role I do not think I would have done half so well in without you. You make everything better by simply being a part of it.
My love, you are everything to me. I doubt I will have another thirty-two years with you, but I wish for them all the same. You are the best wife I could wish for, and the most perfect partner. Please forgive the ramblings of an old man. I am overcome with feeling today.
Your devoted husband,
Fitzwilliam
Fitzwilliam,
The children are engaged away from home this evening. I await you in our bedchamber with your birthday present. Come find me, my love.
Elizabeth