Epilogue
Longbourn
Elizabeth
The first day of March dawned bright and clear, a rare gift for an English spring, and so began the marriages of three Bennet sisters—Elizabeth, Jane, and Mary—joined in holy matrimony to three good and worthy men.
The decision to share the day had been born more of necessity than design; to contrive three separate weddings lay beyond the resources, or patience, of any one household.
Still, the joint celebration proved joyful, bustling, and memorable, with guests proclaiming it the event of the season.
Mr. Collins had arrived at Longbourn on January seventh, only to be thoroughly astonished.
On hearing of Elizabeth’s betrothal to Darcy, he hastened to write to Lady Catherine, convinced she would wish to interfere.
She did. The ensuing uproar thoroughly exasperated his future bride, Miss Lucas, and thenceforward he ceased to meddle in the affairs of others.
Descending upon Netherfield in high dudgeon, Lady Catherine demanded an audience with her nephew.
But Darcy was not to be found; he was at Longbourn with his future wife.
Undeterred, she swept there directly, intent on tearing Elizabeth from his affections.
Her scolding manner and lofty airs were met with unshaken resolve.
Darcy stood firm, declaring he would not see his aunt again until she offered his betrothed a sincere apology.
Mr. Bennet was delighted, remarking that it was abundantly clear Darcy would protect his daughter from every quarter—even the titled ones.
Lady Catherine was removed from Longbourn and sent unceremoniously on her way.
With no offered lodgings, and disdaining the local inn, she traveled to London to air her grievances to her brother, Lord Matlock.
A week later came a letter from Lord and Lady Matlock.
Though politely worded, it was Lady Matlock’s postscript that revealed the true sentiment: Lord Matlock was inclined to approve of the match, if only to spite his sister.
Darcy and Elizabeth were amused and content.
Lady Matlock assured Darcy of her support for Elizabeth as she entered London society, and her patronage would ease the way for the new Mrs. Darcy.
Darcy’s sister, Georgiana, joined him and his future bride shortly before the wedding; he scarce recognized her, so great was the change.
Timidity and her wounded sense of consequence were replaced by confidence, warmth, and grace.
Mrs. Annesley’s companionship had aided her recovery, and five new sisters completed it.
She and Elizabeth grew close, and together they influenced Kitty and Lydia.
In turn, the younger Bennets shared with Georgiana some of their liveliness, while adopting much of her polish.
Many remarked upon the transformation in all three girls, often attributing it to Elizabeth’s steadying presence.
As for Bingley, he carried out his plan not to inform his sisters of his marriage until he could present it as a fait accompli.
His letter was brief and unapologetic; their reply was anything but.
Miss Bingley, incensed, accused him of ruining her prospects, and relations between them cooled irrevocably.
Mrs. Hurst said little, but likewise withdrew. Bingley felt no loss.
Miss Bingley remained with the Hursts until she at last consented to wed a wealthy tradesman.
Her acerbity and haughty sense of superiority had driven away gentlemen of higher station.
Once her estrangement from her brother—and by extension the Darcys of Pemberley—became known, any who might have considered her soon drew back.
She was compelled to look elsewhere, and after her marriage, she removed to her husband’s home in Liverpool.
After a brief wedding tour through the North, the Bingleys settled at Windmere, one of the finer estates he and Darcy had inspected.
Situated conveniently near both Pemberley and Sanderson’s property, it offered proximity to their dearest family and friends.
With minor repairs underway, they would spend the remainder of their lease at Netherfield.
In time, Windemere became a lively and loving home, filled with laughter and light, blessed with three children: one strong, good-natured son and two sweet-tempered daughters.
Mary and Sanderson first visited his family’s estate after the wedding, where Mary was received warmly.
His family, having attended the wedding, had grown quite fond of his young bride.
That summer, the couple went to Brighton, an indulgent farewell to Sanderson’s service in the militia.
By autumn, they returned to his estate, where Mary assumed her new role with calm assurance.
Their household soon rang with the laughter of four children: two sons followed by two daughters.
In an unexpected turn, Sanderson’s elder brother never married; upon his death, the principle estate passed to Mary’s eldest son.
The younger inherited the smaller property, but due to prudent improvements and sound management, it yielded a respectable income of two thousand pounds a year.
And the Darcys? They were blissfully happy.
Each Christmas, the family gathered at Pemberley, where Elizabeth would read aloud the poem her husband had written—the one that began with a diamond pendant and ended with twelve silk roses and a whispered promise on Oakham Mount.
Their five children—three boys, tall and intelligent like their father, and two girls as lively and lovely as their mother—knew the story by heart, yet begged to hear it time after time.
And always, Elizabeth obliged, holding the worn paper in her hands and glancing over it to meet Darcy’s eyes—still steady, still full of love.
For theirs was a love not merely immortalized in verse, but lived daily, joyfully—and, when life was done, eternally.
The End
I hope you enjoyed Darcy’s 12 Days of Christmas!