Epilogue
June 1816
The Bennet carriage rolled through the gates of Pemberley. The long carriage road curled under a stately portico. The estate’s master and mistress stood waiting, with other beloved family crowding the steps behind them.
“Look. William and Mary are already here!” said Lydia.
“As is Lady Catherine!” Kitty added.
“Do you not mean Catherine the Great?” asked Bennet, having given his two youngest their comfort and sat beside Franny on the rear-facing bench.
“Papa!” Lydia exclaimed. “How you tease!”
“How lovely the grounds are, Thomas. Are they not?”
His inclination to be the curmudgeon faltered with the thought of his daughters and grandchildren together for a house party. “They are, my dear,” he said. He kissed his wife’s hand.
Their carriage stopped before the beautiful edifice Elizabeth called home. The four Bennets descended from the carriage; the last moment of silence they would have for the next six weeks ended as Kitty and Lydia flew to their sisters, excited to see their niece and nephews.
Franny nodded at Darcy before reaching out and grasping Elizabeth’s hand. “Lizzy, dear, it has been too long,” she exclaimed. “The children are grown so large!”
Elizabeth laughed and shifted the dark-haired baby in her arms. “Mama, Bennet is in leading strings and Robert scarcely walking.”
Bennet joined his wife. “Mrs Darcy. Mr Darcy.” He winked at Elizabeth before kissing her hand and shaking Darcy’s. He knelt to shake hands with the small boy clinging to Darcy’s leg. “Is this young man prepared to take his marching orders from Colonel Grandpapa?”
Darcy shook his head. “I daresay my heir must first learn to walk more than three paces before racing off into the nearest flower bed.”
“Not marching to Wellesley’s prescribed pace, are we?” The child hid his face behind his father’s leg.
Bennet rose and sniffed the air. “Maybe he would like to be a cavalryman. Do you like horses, Lieutenant Darcy?”
Bennet Darcy released his father’s trousers, eyes wide. “Horsies?” He hopped in place and clapped his hands. “Horsies!” he squealed.
Darcy laughed. “Now you have done it.” He prompted his son towards his father-in-law. “You shall reap what you have sown.”
Elizabeth laughed as Mary broke free of her younger sisters to place her own babe in Mrs Bennet’s arms. “She is quite excited to meet her grandmama.” Franny waltzed away with little Annie, the former humming to the happy gurgling of the latter.
Bennet chuckled. “There you have it, girls. Your mother has abandoned us for the grandchildren you have yet to provide.”
Kitty laughed; her whimsical melody placed a smile on Bennet’s face. She followed her mother’s example and took the youngest Darcy in her arms.
“Papa.” Lydia pulled Bennet aside and said quietly, “Kitty laughs off your teasing, but you should know, she is sensitive to the subject.”
Bennet lifted an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Lizzy invited Mr and Miss Carlisle to join the house party.”
“Mr Carlisle? Is that the way the wind blows?”
Lydia wrapped her hands around his arm. “I daresay it does, Papa.”
“I shall consider myself warned.” Bennet exhaled as he realised another of his daughters would soon leave Longbourn. “I shall occupy myself playing cavalryman with my namesake here.” He accepted his grandson’s hand and together, marched around the carriage with tiny steps as his wife returned to the group.
“There you have it, girls. Your father has now abandoned us for the grandchildren you have yet to provide.”
“Mama!” exclaimed Lydia. Kitty laughed, joining in the merriment. They linked arms with Elizabeth, Mary, and Georgiana and disappeared into Pemberley with the children, a nursemaid, and Mrs Bennet.
George Darcy chuckled and patted his son on the back. “Chaos has arrived.”
Darcy began to make his reply when the loud clapping of hands drew the four men’s attention. “Must we stand in the road like a bunch of parsnips, Colonel Bennet?”
Lady Catherine de Bourgh had taken charge of the house party.
That evening’s separation of the sexes saw the ladies leave the men to their cigars and drinks. At nearly sixty years, Bennet and George Darcy continued sparring—both in fencing and debate—as if they were still at university. They were a few ticks slower, but their wrangling abilities remained sharp. Darcy was pondering whether his own sons would display the fencing skills of their bloodlines when the name Gardiner caught his attention.
“...Gardiner is in Canada?” asked Bennet.
“Pardon me,” Darcy said. “You were saying?”
“Sir Edward,” his father replied, “wrote that he and Lady Madeleine, with Thomas and Felicity, shall remain abroad once the ambassadors sign the treaties.”
“It does not surprise me that Gardiner would choose to remain in America. Apparently, merit trumps birth over there.” Bennet nodded to George Darcy. “We know his distaste for unearned pomp and ceremony.”
George Darcy raised his glass. “To Sir Edward Gardiner, the future master of American commerce.”
“Hear, hear!” shouted the men.
“He received his investiture to represent their majesties at the commerce treaty socials. It was done quickly, thanks to Matlock. His man uncovered the source of some rumours that may have caused the dissolution of Parliament. It would have been inconvenient should that body have dissolved during the scheduled treaty talks,” George Darcy said.
“Gardiner’s absence could allow opportunity for mischief if he is not keeping watch over the aristocracy,” observed Darcy.
“Roark has accepted the reins from Gardiner,” said Bennet. “The culling continues.”
“I cannot believe a peer would lower himself to do business with a man as forbidding as he,” Darcy replied.
“You are correct, son,” offered George Darcy. “A knight, one known to us all, represents Gardiner’s firm.”
“Surely not!” scoffed Bennet.
George Darcy nodded. “It is true. Roark now operates behind Gardiner’s minority partner and new business face”—he paused and looked round the room— “Sir Montgomery Price.” Heads shook in humorous disbelief.
With their drinks drained and cigars snuffed out, the men stood and joined the ladies, who were again discussing Mary’s wedding, where her husband’s concession had caused quite the fuss.
“Am I to believe Mr Collins willingly signed away his name?” asked Lady Catherine in mock affront. She nodded at William Collins Bennet, who dipped his head in return.
Mary related to a knowing audience how her dear William had signed the chapel registry with his name, scratched out the Collins surname, and wrote Bennet next to his entry. When the vicar protested, Mr Bennet had given him a copy of the court’s approval for a name change. Mr Philips had informed him it was elementary, as he was the de facto heir to Longbourn; Bennet had willed it to Mary.
Lady Catherine saluted Mr Bennet for his largesse. He returned her gesture. “What do we hear from Her Grace?” she asked.
“Jane is happy, and quite relieved to have the company of Aunt and Uncle Gardiner during these years abroad,” replied Elizabeth.
Nearly a year had passed since the Duke and Duchess of Somerset had led a delegation to America to negotiate commercial treaties between the two nations. Their success with the young country’s government would establish the largest reciprocal trade route agreement in its brief history. No one doubted the outcome as the aristocracy’s ‘golden couple’ represented the best the kingdom offered—youth, beauty, and vitality.
A knock on the parlour door drew everyone’s attention. “Mister Andrew Carlisle and Miss Arabella Carlisle.”
The group stood to greet the newcomers, the first arrivals outside of family to Elizabeth’s long-anticipated house party. Once all resumed their seats, Bennet noticed the Carlisles had paired off with his two youngest. An enchanted Mr Carlisle sat next to a blushing Miss Bennet.
Franny elbowed her husband. “I believe we may soon have to stop teasing Kitty.” Bennet nodded, lips pursed not in unhappiness but in resolution.
Lady Catherine took the role of hostess upon herself. “Georgiana, will you favour us with a duet? I am convinced you and Miss Carlisle will agree upon something suitable.”
The two young ladies glided to the pianoforte and debated considerably over a few music sheets. Their agreement led to the evening’s entertainment, which lasted an hour and several rounds of applause.
Two days later, Elizabeth led her sisters up several staircases and down a long, seldom-used hall. The corridor ended at a door, which a footman unlocked.
“See that we are not disturbed, please.”
“Of course, mistress.”
The four women entered a space suffused by sunlight. Large, round windows channelled sunbeams to the right and left sides of the room. Elizabeth led them to a large curtain between the windows. She pulled a cord, and the panels split evenly to the right and left, revealing a huge portrait of their absent sister.
The painting’s background blended blacks and greys, giving the illusion of the light fighting the dark; the longer one gazed, the more victorious the light appeared.
Jane was posed in a three-quarter profile, looking to her right, wearing a high-necked black gown more suited for Sunday church services than a day at Her Majesty’s side. Her clothing did not blend into the surrounding dark palette—instead, the flat grey background complemented her shimmering silk dress, a luminous beacon breaking through a coal-blackened winter sky.
A single strand of pearls looped thrice around her neck beautifully contrasted the night blend of colours.
“It was a kindness that Mr Fuseli posed her to display her lesser marks,” Kitty said.
“Do you believe Jane would have allowed any man to command her against her comfort?” asked Mary.
“John would not have presumed,” said Lydia.
“I daresay you are correct,” replied Elizabeth, turning back to Jane’s portrait.
Jane had perched her favourite headpiece, the black beauty, upon her head; the delicate, spiderweb-thin, tiny pearl-beaded half-veil barely obscured her nose and cheeks. Faded though they were, her signature scars could be seen through the veil—they crossed her nose and chin—and were fully visible below.
What surprised them was her luminous smile. Jane had rarely shown her emotions to others, especially after her accident. Her portrait gave them leave to appreciate her otherworldly allure. Bright cerulean eyes diffused through her black trammel, but nothing obscured the wide, ruby-lipped smile that framed perfect white teeth.
Jane was glorious.
Four Bennets stood in awe, mesmerised by their flawless sister.
“How long before you must return the painting to Somerset?” asked Kitty.
“Darcy and I shall accompany it to Taunton upon their return home.”
“This masterpiece should be exhibited,” said Lydia. She did not flinch when Mary and Kitty levelled disapproving glares at her. “It is more a wish than an action, sisters.”
“Jane would never consent to such a public display. Both the accolades and the unwarranted but expected censure would shatter her peace,” said Elizabeth.
Mary tapped her lips with a forefinger. “I believe she would allow future generations to make that decision.”
“Be that as it may.” Elizabeth pulled a hanging cord, and the curtains closed. The Scarred Duchess was again behind a protective veil.