Epilogue
What followed at Wildewood was a series of pleasant discoveries and a great many conversations of reconciliation.
Lady Catherine accepted Mr. Darcy’s invitation to remain as his guest at Wildewood, and she declared that her relations would do the same, at least until they had properly celebrated her intrepid youngest daughter’s birthday.
“You must not mistake my present satisfaction for the exoneration of your clandestine little expedition, Lizzy,” Lady Catherine told her daughter as they took tea together on the east terrace.
She gestured to Jane, who sat with them, whispering to Kitty with great animation.
“Tell her, my dear, what you have suffered!”
Jane blushed, her demeanor now the usual serene contentment that so often put her relations at ease, and not the frightening ire she had radiated upon her arrival.
“Lizzy, I hated to think you were ill – it was a very cruel trick. And if circumstances had been different – if Mr. Worthing had not turned out to be our cousin Darcy, after all – you could have been ruined! I know dear Richard would have married me nonetheless, but what about Rose and Georgiana? And Kitty, too!”
Elizabeth gave her sister a rueful smile. “I suppose I have indeed been influenced by Lady Rebecca’s temerity – I confess, I meant to force your hand, Mamma. I did offer you a perfect ruse for explaining my disappearance, by congregating at Pemberley.”
Richard approached their table and rested a hand on Jane’s shoulder, grinning.
“And I feared Jane would be too like her mother – you have done her great credit with your cunning, Lizzy. You may think it is my sister’s influence, but I am of the opinion that Lady Catherine is entirely responsible for nurturing your obstinacy. ”
“It is my sister who has always indulged her whims,” Lady Catherine sniffed, but as she raised her teacup to her lips, she was not quite able to hide her proud smile. “Perhaps we shall speak of it in twenty years, my darling, when one of your daughters wishes to run off and elope.”
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow at her sisters. “Perhaps with a Bingley or Fitzwilliam cousin of uncommon impudence?”
“Not uncommon – it is becoming quite common in our family,” Lady Catherine grumbled.
Elizabeth laid a hand atop Jane’s. “I am sorry, truly, for giving you such cause to worry. But, tell me, would you rather have been told my intentions, and been made complicit in deceiving Mamma?”
“She would never,” Lady Catherine cried. “Jane is my angel.”
“Soon to be my angel,” Richard said gaily. “But we must allow her to grow better acquainted with her half-sister, my dear aunt.”
Jane displayed her sketchbook and smiled brightly at Kitty. “Would you like to hear about our relations who are expected tomorrow?”
When Kitty eagerly agreed, Lady Catherine gave the sisters a teasing look. “Jane will sing the praises of all, and then Lizzy will tell you what they are really like!”
As she rose to leave them to their effusions, Kitty extended a hand to her. “Lady Catherine, might you also tell me of my mother?”
“I shall grow far too sentimental if I attempt it at present; we shall speak of her after supper. I have a likeness of her in a locket that I brought along, my gift to you. But at present, dear girls, I believe my nephew Darcy must be wishing to hear of his mother, and I am just the person to oblige him – something I never imagined I might wish to do.”
Elizabeth and her sister told Kitty about their aunts and cousins, and the chaotic but proud and affectionate family they had been adopted into.
Kitty expressed a modicum of envy at what their lives had been, though she could not repine her own circumstances, only their separation, and for that they all agreed that the blame belonged entirely to the late Mr. Cardew.
As they spoke of Lady Rebecca, the most complicated of their kin in terms of decency, morality, and general merriment, Elizabeth watched her mother walk along the stream, arm-in-arm with her beloved Darcy.
Elizabeth felt her heart might burst from so much happiness, and it was not lost on her that she had attained it all purely by chance.
It might have all gone horribly awry, and yet here she was, perhaps the luckiest young lady in all of England.
By suppertime, the whole party had been swept up in the sense of euphoria that their becoming better acquainted had engendered.
Lady Catherine was so affectionate toward Darcy that Elizabeth was obliged to discreetly inform the servants not to give her mother any more wine.
She even learned to tolerate Mr. Bingley, and she repeatedly expressed a wish to make every amends to her young namesake for not challenging Mr. Cardew for custody of Fanny’s third daughter.
Miss Annesley humbly resigned her position, full of loquacious apologies to all who would hear her.
“I cannot deny that in my years at Wildewood, hearing your supposed cousin Darcy spoken of, I did wonder if there was any connection to my former employer. But this fictitious fellow sounded so dreadfully bad that I was not convinced his family should desire to reclaim him, and in truth I have lacked the courage to face Lady Anne Darcy – that is, Lady Anne Beaumont, as she is now called. But surely you will wish me gone before her arrival tomorrow.”
Kitty protested, for despite her penchant for resisting her lessons, she was fond of her governess. “But where will you go? You have been with us nearly all my life.”
“The cousins who took me in after that unfortunate incident might welcome me back into their household,” Miss Annesley said mournfully.
“In the months following my recovery from that horrid woman’s attack, I acted as an informal sort of governess for my cousin’s children.
They are now grown, with children of their own, and perhaps I can make myself useful amongst them. ”
Mr. Chasuble listened to this with a look of despair.
He had been invited to stay for supper, if only because he had been so involved in the antics and activities of the last few days that his companions felt it would be odd if they did not include the affable vicar in their continued festivities.
And none of them were surprised when he could not allow Miss Annesley to leave them.
As they all congregated in the parlor after their meal, Mr. Chasuble dropped to one knee, before the three other happy couples and the bemused Lady Catherine, and he proposed to Miss Annesley.
“My dearest Winnifred, I am more used to sermons than speeches of love. I am not the sort of man to recite sonnets, or orchestrate theatrics in the garden, or pick wheelbarrows full of flowers – I can scarcely climb up into the treehouse to see Duchess. But I believe you have long been sensible of my boundless esteem for your cultivated and genteel character, and I hope I shall only do more, as your husband, to bestow upon you that enduring devotion which you inspire.”
Lady Catherine leaned close to Elizabeth, swaying a little as she smirked at her daughter.
She had perhaps been given more wine, despite Elizabeth’s instructions; she had a way of always intimidating the servants of any house far more than the person actually responsible for commanding them.
Her whisper was aghast, yet full of mirth.
“Wheelbarrows? Theatrics in the garden? Lizzy, what have you been getting up to?”
“Nothing too wild,” Elizabeth said primly, though she allowed her wide eyes to tell another tale.
Miss Annesley accepted Mr. Chasuble, of course, and Kitty was the first to leap to her feet and congratulate them, offering her governess a warm embrace. “It is so perfect! Truly, Miss Annesley, it would not be the same without you near.”
She patted her young charge’s cheek. “My dear child, I am no longer in your family’s employ. You may call me Aunt Winnifred, if you like.”
Beside her, Mr. Chasuble amorously repeated his fair lady’s name, and Mr. Bingley gave him an overzealous pat on the back as he asked Aunt Winnifred for the same privilege of endearment.
He called for champagne and gave a rousing toast, which Darcy was instantly compelled to best, having known the happy couple far longer.
The rest of their evening was consumed in the idle and grandiose speculations about the future intimacy between Rosings, Pemberley, and Wildewood, and the frequent convergence of all to make merry in London.
They were loath to part when it came time to retire, but their jubilant gathering continued the next day.
The rest of the family must have departed Rosings very early, for they reached Wildewood in time for a lavish luncheon hastily arranged in their honor.
Their party was twice as large and twice as merry as Lady Catherine, Richard, and Elizabeth each had a turn in regaling their relations with the fantastic events and discoveries of the day before.
They each infused their own style of humor and dramatic flair, holding their clamoring audience in a frenzied thrall.
The entire Fitzwilliam clan had a tendency toward talking – and occasionally shouting – over one another during moments of such embellished storytelling, and Elizabeth watched as her beloved Darcy seemed to come alive as he was drawn into their midst.
Lady Rebecca had her moment of Machiavellian triumph, vindicated in her actions by the exceedingly gratifying outcome.
She made a solemn vow never to again accept the possibility that Lady Catherine was right and she was wrong – and her aunt was far too content to do anything but stoutly accept that challenge.
Young Lady Rose asked a great many questions, unapologetically interrupting some vastly clever barbs about some of the persons concerned as the story was told. She and Georgiana naturally gravitated toward Kitty, being of similar age and disposition toward whimsy and romance.