Epilogue #4
The gentleman possessed neither dazzling charm nor extravagant fortune.
He was, however, honorable, sensible, patient, and entirely unimpressed by wealth for its own sake.
Darcy approved his judgment. Colonel Fitzwilliam approved his character.
Lady Matlock approved nearly everything about him except his handwriting, which she declared deplorable.
Elizabeth liked him because he listened more than he spoke whenever Georgiana entered the room.
He allowed her time to form her own opinions, never hurried her conversation, and treated her accomplishments with unaffected admiration rather than excessive praise.
Watching them together, Darcy confessed one evening that he believed his sister had at last found exactly the sort of gentleman she ought always to have married.
She did not love him with the reckless certainty she had once mistaken for devotion, and part of her welcomed the independence marriage offered, but she respected him and believed affection might safely grow.
Elizabeth understood the hesitation better than most.
First attachments, however mistaken, seldom disappeared at another person’s convenience.
Georgiana carried the memory of her youthful folly for many years, less because she continued to love George Wycombe than because she regretted the young woman she had been when she believed him worthy of such affection.
Her husband never demanded comparisons with the past.
Instead, he built their life, day by day, through countless ordinary kindnesses that asked for no recognition.
Eventually, she learned to love her husband and knew the same happiness her brother shared with his wife.
Mr. Wickham formally requested Miss Lydia Bennet’s hand in marriage the week after she turned sixteen.
Although no one who had observed them together during the preceding year professed surprise, Mr. Wickham approached Mr. Bennet with all the seriousness the occasion deserved.
He neither presumed upon his welcome at Longbourn nor upon the affection Lydia had never troubled herself to disguise.
Instead, he spoke candidly of his circumstances, his prospects in Mr. Philips’s office, and his determination to provide comfortably for the young lady whose cheerful spirits had first persuaded him that happiness need not depend upon wealth alone.
Mr. Bennet listened longer than he had during Darcy’s interview, though perhaps because Mr. Wickham, unlike Darcy, occasionally required encouragement to believe himself worthy of the happiness before him.
“You have altered considerably since we first met,” Mr. Bennet observed when the younger man had finished.
“I hope so, sir.”
“I believe you have.”
The older gentleman regarded him thoughtfully for another moment before extending his hand.
“Then you have my consent. See that my daughter laughs as often after marriage as she has before it.”
Mr. Wickham accepted the charge with unmistakable emotion.
“I shall devote my life to it.”
Though there was ten years of difference in their ages, everyone thought them well-matched.
The disparity occasioned a little conversation among neighboring ladies, as nearly everything did in Hertfordshire, yet those who knew the couple best discovered little reason for concern.
Lydia’s lively disposition balanced Wickham’s growing steadiness remarkably well.
Where once he had been inclined toward impulsive decisions, he now possessed sufficient experience to temper youthful enthusiasm.
Lydia, in turn, refused to permit him excessive seriousness for very long.
Elizabeth frequently remarked that her youngest sister possessed the singular ability to persuade even the most thoughtful gentleman into laughter before an evening concluded.
Darcy could not dispute the observation.
Whenever Wickham visited Pemberley after his marriage, he departed with some amusing story Lydia had insisted upon recounting, usually at her own expense.
Mr. Philips offered the couple a little apartment above his offices to start their life, and they happily accepted.
The accommodation was modest, yet comfortably arranged, and Lydia delighted in furnishing it according to her own taste.
She declared herself mistress of an establishment at last, though Mrs. Bennet insisted upon contributing rather more household linen than the apartment could reasonably contain.
Mrs. Philips added china, Jane sent preserves from her own house, Elizabeth supplied books she thought Lydia might unexpectedly enjoy, and Kitty embroidered cushions whose workmanship improved noticeably by the final stitch.
The apartment soon became a favorite stopping place for every member of the Bennet family passing through Meryton. Its rooms rang with conversation, laughter, and the occasional good-natured disagreement over cards or backgammon.
Eventually, Mr. Wickham became a partner, and his employer agreed to leave the practice to him upon his retirement.
The promotion surprised no one acquainted with the business.
Clients trusted Wickham readily, finding him attentive without being overly formal, while Mr. Philips repeatedly declared that his clerk possessed an uncommon talent for explaining difficult legal matters in language ordinary people could understand.
As the years passed, responsibility gradually shifted until Mr. Philips found himself consulting his former clerk nearly as often as the reverse.
When retirement finally became unavoidable, he surrendered the practice with complete confidence that it remained in capable hands.
“I leave it,” he announced one evening over dinner at Longbourn, “to a gentleman who has already managed half of it for years without allowing me to notice.”
Wickham accepted the compliment with genuine gratitude.
Kitty and Mary eventually found husbands, thanks in part to the connections their brothers by marriage brought.
Frequent visits to Pemberley and to the Bingleys’ northern estate introduced the younger Bennet sisters to a far wider circle than they had ever expected to enjoy.
Elizabeth and Jane took particular care that neither sister should feel overlooked simply because they married later.
House parties, dinners, musical evenings, and county assemblies gradually enlarged their acquaintance until suitable gentlemen became rather easier to discover than Mrs. Bennet had once feared possible.
Mrs. Bennet afterward maintained that she had always known every one of her daughters would marry well.
Mr. Bennet wisely refrained from reminding her of earlier predictions.
Kitty married a gentleman from Shropshire when she turned nineteen.