Epilogue
“Mrs Jones!”
“Mr Jones!”
That was our greeting on the morning after our wedding, and it was a tradition we kept for many years.
Of course, we determined the mistress’ quarters were rather superfluous, and once Elizabeth did some strategic decorating of the masters’ suite, we never quite left.
We eventually used the mistress’ suite for birthing, and for a nursery, and the children used it as a castle to be attacked or defended, and that sort of thing.
Jane and Bingley did eventually make a go of it after he finally dealt with his relations. They purchased Netherfield, and as far as I could tell, they are quietly happy—though Bingley had to put strict limits on his mother-in-law.
Elizabeth and I were happy, but I should leave it to others to decide if we were quietly so. The evidence suggests otherwise, particularly since most of our brood takes more after their mother than me, but I cannot judge my own performance.
All of our children found anonymity a useful tool among the cutthroat circles of the ton, and one by one, most of those in the next generation found their matches as either a Mr Jones or a Miss Smith.
They obviously did not carry the disguise for five years as Elizabeth and I did, but they all found their match at country assemblies or tradesmen’s balls, far from the crowds of first circles London, and I believe they are all the better for it.
~~~Finis~~~