Epilogue Both Paths
“Mama, you will not believe what that horrid man said about me!”
“What did he say, my darling?” Elizabeth Darcy asked her eldest daughter, Caroline, while her husband looked on in amusement, assuming it could not be too terrible, since the boy was still standing, her fists were unbruised, and her gown lacked any blood.
Caroline complained. “He said I cannot tempt him to dance!”
It was less than ideal when that tidbit came right while Mr and Mrs Darcy were sipping punch.
It produced the unfortunate effect of both members of the happy couple spitting punch all over the other, while breaking into raucous laughter.
It would have been terribly embarrassing if it were the first time, but the Darcys were widely considered slightly eccentric by the members of the ton.
Even after five and twenty years of marriage, they were generally judged as entirely too affectionate, and too willing to show their affection.
They were also well known to enjoy a good joke from time to time, so nobody would have thought anything of it.
Mrs Darcy had taken the ton by storm when she entered the first circles, and they had never really looked back.
The Darcys had, quite early on, abandoned the gentry’s traditional disdains of both trade and intelligent wives.
They were currently part of a large business empire that encompassed Pemberley, Rosings, Matlock, railroads, canals, shipping, banking, stores, and another dozen or so businesses in England, Scotland, the Continent, and the Americas.
Everybody of any significance comprehended that if you wanted to know how to operate a business, and you were talking to a Darcy, a Gardiner, a Baker, or a Fitzwilliam (if desperate), then you were probably on the right track.
Unfortunately, even though, as the eldest, Miss Caroline Darcy, had been subjected to entirely too much of her parents’ sense of humour, this particular explosion was just too much. She stomped her foot, in a way that Mrs Darcy always asserted was just like her Aunt Lydia when she was young.
Caroline had a difficult time believing the Countess of Woodbury had ever been anything other than entirely proper.
Aunt Lydia was well known as a rigid taskmaster and stickler for decorum.
She never let any of her four children out of line, even for a minute—or at least, that was what they always told Caroline when they occasionally got together every year or so.
Mrs Darcy had four sisters, and the Darcys had apparently found husbands for all of them, but they were not particularly close.
Elizabeth told her daughter they had been like peas in a pod as children, but such bonds do not often survive to adulthood.
The Darcy children never questioned it, and the Darcy parents never explained.
Between the six children of her namesake, Caroline Baker, who lived less than fifteen miles away in Derbyshire; and the three children of her Uncle Richard, the Earl of Matlock, who were only twenty five miles; her best friend Miriam Hervey and her three sisters; and the half-dozen Bingleys they visited at Rosings a few times a year—Caroline had never felt a great need to expand into the rest of the formerly Bennet sisters families.
She would have been overwhelmed with friends and family even if she never left Pemberley.
Aunt Lydia and Aunt Mary had remained close, with Mary wed to the rector that held a living in Lydia’s home village.
On their rare visits, Caroline noticed that Aunt Mary’s three children generally mixed and matched with Aunt Lydia’s children randomly to the point where she could never actually identify which cousin belonged with which aunt without a seating chart.
Miss Darcy had visited both aunts several times, but the two sisters were far closer to each other than any of the others.
Her Aunts Katherine and Jane had also formed a rather tight bond.
The seven children between them swapped back and forth at will since they only lived a few miles apart, all the way down in Cornwall.
Jane Poldark’s husband owned a prosperous mine that supplied quite a bit of raw material to Darcy industries, and Aunt Katherine’s husband ran a prosperous trading company.
Mrs Mason and Mrs Poldark were closer than the other sisters, but nothing like Mrs Elizabeth Darcy was with her closest confidant, Mrs Caroline Baker.
Of course, those thoughts did not help the young lady’s current situation.
Caroline, quite put out, stomped her foot again, and whined. “I am serious! This is not funny.”
Darcy and Elizabeth managed to quit laughing eventually and took to the entirely serious business of calming their somewhat excitable eldest daughter down.
Such excitability was generally frowned on by her governesses, all of whom considered her father to be a bad influence, since he found it hilarious, and her mother, even worse.
Darcy said, “I beg to differ, daughter. It is extremely funny, but not for the reason you think.”
She somewhat sulkily snapped, “Why is it funny? Are you going to go talk to him?”
Her mother, quite unaccountably, started laughing again, but then eventually said, “If we do, you will have to marry him. It is the done thing.”
Confused as she could be, Caroline asked, “What do you mean, Mama?”
“Did I ever tell you the first words your father ever spoke about me—not to me, mind you—but about me?”
“No.”
Darcy laughed. “You do it. I am not certain I can without more punch.”
Mrs Darcy lowered her voice to where she sounded like a bad impersonation of her husband and intoned, “She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.”
Young Caroline vacillated between disbelief and the idea that her parents were playing a joke on her (which would hardly have been the first), and mortification, while both her parents just laughed.
Seeing her consternation, Mrs Darcy grew more serious, took her daughter’s hand, and said gently.
“We never told you about our difficult beginning, Caroline because you did not need to know—but it was quite difficult—horrendous, in fact. Neither of us were the slightest bit interested in each other. We eventually married and then fell in love, but that is a story for another time and place.”
Caroline said, “That sounds backwards.”
“Yes, by English standards it is, but it is quite common in India. I will not say it is better or worse than our usual, but do not fall into the trap of thinking a wedding is the end of a romantic story. A wedding is hardly even the beginning.”
Caroline, noticing the truth of her parents’ affection, felt like that might be quite wise.
Darcy added gently. “This whole business of falling in love before marriage sounds good in theory, but it is devilishly difficult in practise if you try to follow the rules of propriety.”
Caroline scoffed. “You think?”
Elizabeth smiled. “Enough of that! Shall we go give your young man a piece of our minds? Which shall it be—stern father or shrill mother?”
Caroline snapped, “He is not my young man!” which unfortunately sent her parents into another fit of giggles.
“Pardon me!”
The three had been speaking to each other so intently that they had not noticed a handsome young man approaching.
In looks, he was everything a young man ought to be, handsome and elegant, although with an odd haircut and slightly oddly dressed.
That was not the only thing strange about him.
He walked oddly, he bowed oddly, and when he spoke—
Darcy’s eyes lit up, and he enthused. “Aha! You are American!”
The boy looked embarrassed, and a bit nervous, but resolute when he responded.
“Yes sir. I must apologise that I can’t quite get the hang of introductions ‘round here. Am I being what you-all call ‘proper’ introducing myself, or should ah go fetch me some tar and feathers?”
Darcy and Elizabeth found themselves laughing at the odd young man, with his odd accent they could just barely understand.
Darcy took pity on him saying, “You are doing fine, young man. The key to behaviour with Americans is low expectations. We all think you are practically savages—which I assume you think of us as well—so it all evens out.”
The young man laughed, while Caroline, feeling sorry for him, snapped, “Papa! Be nice!” then she turned to the man and said, “My father is only teasing.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I shall introduce us. This is my husband, Fitzwilliam Darcy. I am Mrs Elizabeth Darcy. You should call me Mrs Darcy or Lunkhead.”
“No, no, you always get that backwards. I am the muttonhead,” her husband teased. “And of course, this is our eldest daughter, Caroline.”
Not entirely certain what to say, but vacillating between anger and amusement, Caroline said, “I am named after Mama’s oldest friend, Mrs Caroline Baker.”
The young man perked up. “Baker! What a coincidence! I am in England to meet a distant cousin—a Mr Daniel Baker. I understand he is an expert in railroads, and my father wants me to learn from him. He is also to introduce me to society—hopefully more smoothly than tonight’s debacle, which, as you surely noticed, has not been going well. ”
Caroline looked confused by that declaration, but she had no idea what to say.
Darcy laughed. “We know Daniel well. He is our business partner, and we go back many years. His wife, Caroline is my daughter’s namesake. I expect them both with their children in a week or two. Perhaps, you can stay with us. We have plenty of room.”
The young man did not really acknowledge the offer, but instead, looked at Caroline, and spoke quite carefully.
“I must apologise Miss Darcy. I believe you overheard part of a conversation, and based on what I could see of your subsequent discussion with them there lunkheads—”
Darcy and Elizabeth laughed heartily, already quite enamoured with the young man.
Any man who could tease better than Charles Bingley on first introduction was to be treasured, and his accent was to die for.
They had no idea if that was an American affectation, or the man was just amiable, but either way, they were quite pleased.
Caroline was not sure what to say, but he did at least manage a smile.
He continued, “You see, Miss Darcy, you may have missed the part where I admitted I do not have the vaguest idea how to do this kind of dance and was certainly not tempted to start off with such a beautiful lady by stomping on her toes or tearing her dress. I offer you my sincere apologies for any offence.”
Caroline gave him an enormous smile, her sense of embarrassment over her incorrect but nearly immutable first impression, (a defect she shared with her mother), being thoroughly stomped by her pleasure at the compliment from a handsome man.
She had to admit that a man calling her a ‘beautiful woman’ was not, in fact, the worst thing he could have said.
She was watching him so intently, she did not hear her father whisper to her mother, ‘What if I had done that at the Meryton Assembly?’, or her equally quiet answer, ‘Where would have been the fun in that?’
Instead of listening to her parents, who, to be honest, were done paying any attention to her anyway, she said, “No apology is necessary, Mr Baker. I would be happy to teach you. The steps are fairly simple, and we can go over into the corner for an impromptu lesson.”
“It would be my greatest pleasure, Miss Darcy.”
With a happy heart, Mr Fitzwilliam, and Mrs Elizabeth Darcy watched their most precious daughter, (aside from the other two or their three sons), start a journey that could well end up with a second Caroline Baker existing in the world—or not, there was no point in trying to predict the future before the first dance.
As Mr Darcy gave Mrs Darcy a kiss that was just a little bit on the far side of propriety, they watched the show and quite liked what they saw.
There was no hurry to learn if they would like the young man or not.
They had all the time in the world. Marriage was a serious business and not to be rushed!
After all, it was till death us do part.
~~ Finis ~~