Epilogue
At Longbourn, a rather uneasy truce had developed between Mr. Bennet and Mr. Collins. Although Mr. Bennet had long been indifferent to the daily management of the estate, he now seemed content to leave the task entirely to his cousin.
Mr. Collins, though not particularly gifted in independent thought, was at least capable of following instructions, which suited Mr. Bennet.
As long as the estate remained in an acceptable condition, Mr. Bennet saw little reason to interfere with Mr. Collins’s methods, even if they were at times rigid and inflexible.
However, the two men had yet to form any genuine rapport, and the atmosphere at Longbourn remained somewhat strained.
Mr. Bennet often retreated to his study, seeking refuge from the incessant chatter of his cousin and heir, preferring the solitude of his books and the quiet of his own thoughts.
With a proper wife, Mr. Bennet thought, my fool of a cousin might make a competent enough master of Longbourn one day. With an intelligent wife, like my Lizzy, he might have made the estate successful, but that cannot happen.
He sighed, looking out the window. I wonder what woman I could attach him to that might make it almost tolerable to allow them both to live here.
Mrs. Bennet, when she returned from visiting the seaside, had a similar realisation. She had already decided that none of her own daughters would suit.
Mary, having chosen to remain at Pemberley, was out of the question, and both Kitty and Lydia had found enjoyment in town life upon finishing their time at school.
It was unlikely that either would be satisfied with returning to Longbourn, particularly if it meant marrying Mr. Collins. The idea of either of them having to endure him was too unpleasant to consider.
In their separate ways, both husband and wife arrived at the same conclusion: their neighbour’s spinster daughter, Charlotte Lucas, might be the perfect match for their cousin.
Though neither Mr. Bennet nor Mrs. Bennet openly discussed their scheme with the other, it became increasingly obvious when Mr. Bennet began attending social gatherings with an apparent purpose.
He often managed to draw both Miss Lucas and Mr. Collins into conversation, much to the bewilderment of all involved.
When Charlotte became aware of their intentions, she responded with a letter to her friend, teasingly requesting sanctuary from the matchmaking efforts of the Bennets.
The letter, full of wit and good-natured sarcasm, made Elizabeth laugh when she read it aloud.
“Well, my dear, it seems that we are to soon have another guest here at Pemberley, for my mother and father are both attempting to match my friend Charlotte with my cousin,”
Elizabeth said, her voice light with amusement. “Though she desires a house of her own, she has little wish to make that home at Longbourn, especially with both of my parents and my silly cousin.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow, concern flickering in his gaze. “Dearest, you have barely recovered from giving birth. Surely you do not wish to host another guest so soon?”
Elizabeth smiled, shaking her head. “Charlotte will hardly be a trial, since she is nearly like a sister. Besides, we can hardly refuse one requesting sanctuary in our home, can we?”
Darcy laughed, as his wife had no doubt intended. “Hardly, my dear. I will order a carriage to depart in the morning.”
With a grin, Elizabeth stood and moved to lightly kiss her husband. “You do spoil me, my dear.”
“You deserve it, my love,”
he replied, his voice warm with affection as he pulled her closer.
Charlotte never returned to her home, for when she came to Derbyshire, she met and fell in love with the recently widowed rector of Kympton and his small daughter.
Six months after Charlotte arrived in the north, she and Mr.
Pattison wed; he adored her, and his daughter needed a mother.
The earl had been moved to a small, modest cottage on the grounds of his former estate, as Lady Julia, though not bitter, could scarcely bear the thought of sharing a house with the man who had nearly destroyed their family.
His actions had cast a shadow over their lives, and the grief of losing their eldest son was still a wound that would not heal.
The earl’s condition demanded constant care, and his valet—now serving as his nurse—attended to him with unwavering diligence.
Despite this excellent care, the earl had become a mere shadow of the man he once was.
Once independent and authoritative, he now required assistance in every aspect of daily life—dressing, eating, and even the simple act of moving.
Although his body had deteriorated, his mind remained sharp, a cruel irony that only underscored the depth of his decline.
The paralysis that gripped much of his body left the right side of his face almost immobile, a constant, visible reminder of his diminished authority.
A man who had once commanded fear and respect now found himself powerless, his frailty a stark and humbling symbol of his fall from grace.
Though his physical needs were met, the earl’s emotional state deteriorated.
His lost authority left him isolated, haunted by the consequences of his actions.
The family he had once torn apart was now beyond repair.
The man who had manipulated others for his own gain was now a prisoner of his choices, surrounded only by servants who could never replace the family he had alienated.
In the solitude of his small cottage, far from the grandeur he had once enjoyed, the earl faced the bitter truth of his vulnerability.
For nearly fifteen years after his apoplexy left him largely helpless, he lived a quiet, constrained existence.
His wife and son visited occasionally, more out of duty than affection.
Unable to speak, the earl could only listen as they spoke of births, deaths, and the successes and failures of the estate—reminders of the life he had once controlled and lost.
It took Richard Fitzwilliam more than a year to pay his first visit to his father, so great was his anger over the circumstances that made him the viscount.
It was his wife’s influence that eventually encouraged him to let go of the bitterness he felt, that, and the birth of their first child, a son and heir who would one day reap the benefits of the work he had done to restore the estate.
That is not to say that Fitzwilliam was not pleased with the many benefits his position as heir to Matlock afforded him.
He and his wife found great satisfaction in their roles as the Viscount and Viscountess.
After only a few years, Viscount Ashburn began to take on some of his father’s responsibilities in Parliament.
His initial efforts were driven by a deep commitment to aiding his former comrades—soldiers returning from war and grappling with the challenges of civilian life.
When Fitzwilliam succeeded his father and became the Earl of Matlock, his focus on military affairs only deepened.
He used his influence and position to advocate for reforms that would better support veterans, addressing issues such as pensions, housing, and employment opportunities.
His tireless work earned him respect not only from his peers in Parliament but also from the men he had served alongside, many of whom benefited directly from the policies he championed.
Despite his dedication to public service, Fitzwilliam never allowed his responsibilities to overshadow his personal life.
He remained a devoted husband and father, ensuring that his family felt his presence and support even amid the demands of his title.
He and Jane were blessed with four children—two sons and two daughters—each raised with a strong sense of duty to the estate and its people.
The boys, Andrew and William, were taught the intricacies of managing the land, the tenants, and the estate’s finances, preparing them for roles of leadership.
The girls, Elizabeth and Madeline, were no less involved, learning about the charitable responsibilities of the family and the importance of stewardship.
Jane, ever practical and compassionate, ensured that all her children understood the privilege and obligations that came with their family name.
Anne and Percival Hargrove found contentment in their marriage, building a quiet life at Rosings.
Five years into their union, Anne gave birth to a daughter, Elizabeth.
The choice of name was deliberate—a final act of defiance against her domineering mother and the former mistress of Rosings, but also a heartfelt tribute to the woman whose example had inspired Anne to claim her own future.
The birth was fraught with complications, leaving Anne unable to bear more children.
Elizabeth, known affectionately as Beth, became the couple’s sole child and the focus of their combined hopes and dreams.
From her earliest days, she was raised with an awareness of the legacy she would one day inherit.
Anne, who had once yearned for a home filled with warmth and familial closeness, channelled those aspirations into her daughter.
Determined that Beth would command Rosings with the grace and confidence she herself had never been allowed to exhibit, Anne set out to prepare her for the considerable responsibilities that awaited her.
Beth proved a clever and spirited child, possessing both charm and a keen intelligence.
As she grew, she endeared herself to the tenants and servants of Rosings with her quick wit and genuine interest in their lives.
Under her parents’ guidance, she learned to navigate the complexities of estate management, balancing the weight of her responsibilities with an innate sense of fairness and compassion.
By the time she reached young womanhood, Beth had become a figure of quiet admiration among those at Rosings, embodying the promise of a brighter, more prosperous future for the estate.
What happened to Longbourn and the rest of the Bennet sisters, one might ask?
Mr. Collins never married, for none in Meryton were inclined to accept the gentleman. Mrs. Bennet, who spent very little time at Longbourn as the years passed, gave up on the idea of matchmaking once Charlotte fled at the very idea of marrying him.
Mr. Bennet and Mr. Collins continued to run Longbourn together, with Mr. Bennet providing the instructions and Mr. Collins carrying them out. Their partnership worked well enough, one might suppose, though no one was precisely happy with the arrangement.
Once Mr. Collins realised that he was unlikely to ever marry, he and Mr. Bennet worked together to end the entail. It would have ended with Mr.
Collins regardless, but breaking the entail enabled the two gentlemen to mutually agree upon their successor.
It was unexpectedly decided that Mary would eventually inherit the estate. In the spring of 1817, after spending three seasons in town with Georgiana without finding anyone who truly captured her interest, Mary returned to Meryton for a brief visit with her mother.
There, she renewed her acquaintance with Jonathan Lucas, the much younger brother of Charlotte Lucas.
Jonathan assisted his elder brother Edward in managing the Lucas estate and had made significant contributions to its profitability.
After careful consideration, Mr. Collins and Mr. Bennet agreed that Jonathan Lucas was the ideal candidate to manage Longbourn.
His industrious nature and experience in estate management made him well-suited for the role. Mary and Jonathan married shortly after, beginning a harmonious partnership in both marriage and estate stewardship.
Kitty, meanwhile, eventually married Charles Bingley. She met him again during a visit to town with Elizabeth and Darcy when she was twenty years old.
Their match was a happy one though not without its detractors. Miss Bingley never married and settled in Bath with a companion. There, she became a prominent figure in society, particularly among the gossips.
She harboured lingering bitterness over her brother’s choice to marry one of the Bennet “chits,”
whom she unfairly blamed for her own social setbacks.
Lydia, true to form, found her match in a man in uniform. However, unlike her early infatuation with redcoats, she developed a preference for the navy during her debut in society.
She married a naval officer and led a life of travel, accompanying her husband around the world.
Though she never had children, Lydia brought back treasures from her journeys, delighting her family with tales of far-off places.
Her correspondence was sporadic at best, but she would unexpectedly visit one of her sisters whenever her travels brought her nearby.
These visits occurred roughly once every three or four years, always filled with lively stories and exotic gifts.
Throughout their years of marriage, Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth Darcy built a life filled with love and contentment.
While they faced their share of challenges—no life is without its difficulties—they weathered every storm together, their unity growing stronger with each trial.
Their bond, rooted in mutual respect and unwavering affection, became the foundation of their happiness.
Anneliese was the first of seven children born to the couple.
Two years later, Bennet Edward Darcy arrived, bringing with him his father’s steadfast nature and a penchant for mischief that he got from his mother.
Early in 1817, Richard Jonathan was born, a spirited child whose laughter often filled Pemberley’s halls.
The family welcomed another daughter, Jane Frances, in late 1818, a serene and gentle soul much like her namesake.
However, the Darcys’ happiness was tempered by sorrow when Elizabeth gave birth to a stillborn child a few years after Jane’s arrival.
The loss was a profound grief for both Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam, casting a shadow over their otherwise bright household.
It took months for the couple to find their way back to the light, their love and shared resilience guiding them through the melancholy that lingered.
When Elizabeth discovered she was expecting again a year later, the news was met with a mix of hope and trepidation.
The bittersweet anticipation ended in joy when William James was born near Christmas of 1822, a hearty babe who brought new life to the family.
By then, Anneliese was ten years old and already a nurturing older sister, a role she cherished.
Elizabeth’s recovery after William’s birth was fraught with difficulty, leading the couple to believe their family was complete.
It was a surprise, therefore, when Elizabeth learned she was expecting once more in the autumn of 1828.
The following summer, she gave birth to twin daughters, Margaret Eleanor and Charlotte Anne.
The twins, though small and frail at birth, proved to be as determined as their mother.
Their survival defied the odds, and they grew into lively, affectionate girls adored by their parents and siblings alike.
Though doted upon, the twins avoided being spoiled, their innate good natures endearing them to everyone around them.
As their children grew, Elizabeth and Darcy taught them to be responsible, reasonable people who viewed the world through eyes that examined character and actions, and not merely their words.
The couple were delighted when each of their children found a future spouse, although Darcy did, on occasion, feel something like regret each time a suitor approached him to request the hand of one of his daughters.
However, unlike his own father-in-law, he never hesitated to respond in a way that would serve to ensure the happiness of his child.
In 1851, the entire extended family, which was considerable, met in London to attend the Great Exhibition at the newly built Crystal Palace in Hyde Park.
The exhibition was intended to showcase the latest developments in engineering, science and the arts which were of interest to every member of the Darcy family, both male and female.
This gathering was also intended to celebrate the 40th anniversary of Elizabeth and Darcy’s marriage.
Though slightly premature—their anniversary was later in the year—it coincided with the opening of the exhibition in May, one of the few occasions when the entire family could convene.
By this time, the Darcy family had expanded to encompass multiple generations.
In attendance were Elizabeth and Darcy, their seven children and their spouses, the children from those unions, and, in a few cases, the spouses or fiancés of the third generation.
The family now even included members of a fourth generation, as Anneliese’s eldest child had recently celebrated the arrival of her firstborn.
The legacy left by the Darcys on their extended family was one of steadfast principles, deep familial bonds, and a commitment to service.
Elizabeth and Darcy’s enduring partnership served as a model of mutual respect, love, and resilience, shaping the lives of their children and grandchildren.