Epilogue
News of Elizabeth’s engagement had scarcely ceased to delight the household before Mr. Bingley, whose happiness seemed to increase with every additional marriage contemplated among those he loved, declared that Netherfield must host a ball to celebrate.
Jane laughed and protested that one wedding at a time ought to satisfy even his generous enthusiasm, but her husband was not to be dissuaded.
If Hertfordshire had rejoiced when he claimed Miss Bennet for his own, he insisted it should rejoice again when Mr. Darcy secured Miss Elizabeth.
Invitations were issued at once, and within a sennight the neighborhood was in animated expectation of an evening that promised to honor not only two excellent matches, but the growing conviction that the gentlemen of Netherfield had contrived, most fortunately, to become part of the Bennet family.
By the time Netherfield gave its long-anticipated winter ball, the whole of Hertfordshire had accepted as fact what Thomas and Toby Bennet had been proclaiming for weeks.
Mr. Darcy was to marry their sister.
The twins regarded this not as a happy development, but as a successful campaign.
Lydia insisted, to anyone who would listen and several who would not, that the final victory could never have been secured without her assistance.
“I was the one who recruited additional personnel,” she informed Kitty while Mrs. Bennet adjusted the ribbon on her gown. “Thomas and Toby lacked both subtlety and handwriting.”
“You possess neither,” Kitty replied.
Lydia tossed her head. “I possess imagination.”
Elizabeth, seated before her dressing table while Jane pinned the last curl in place, caught her sister’s eye in the mirror and laughed.
The house had been in a state of agreeable confusion from breakfast onward.
Jane and Mr. Bingley were now married and settled at Netherfield, though Jane still appeared at Longbourn so often that very little seemed altered except the direction from which she arrived.
Her happiness lent an added brightness to everything she touched.
Mrs. Bennet moved between pride and tears with such frequency that no one attempted to distinguish between them.
Mary had composed a small piece for the occasion and practiced it until Mr. Bennet threatened to retreat permanently to his library.
Kitty had been permitted to attend more dinners and assemblies under her mother’s supervision and carried herself with the pleased astonishment of one newly admitted to the adult world.
As for Elizabeth, she was to become Mrs. Darcy within a fortnight.
The words still possessed the power to astonish her.
When she descended to the hall, Darcy stood with Mr. Bennet near the front door while Thomas and Toby explained, in tones of grave urgency, the strategic advantages of arriving early to any public event.
“Because one may observe the field,” Thomas said.
“And secure favorable positions,” Toby added.
Darcy listened with admirable seriousness.
“I shall endeavor to remember that.”
Lydia placed her hands upon her hips. “Do not let them deceive you, Mr. Darcy. They believe every social occasion is a military operation.”
“They have already proved themselves effective tacticians,” Darcy replied.
Thomas beamed.
Toby looked so pleased that Elizabeth suspected he might burst.
The journey to Netherfield was lively, the younger members of the party debating whether Mrs. Bennet would permit Kitty to dance every set and whether Lydia ought to receive formal acknowledgment in the wedding breakfast toast.
“You shall be thanked privately,” Elizabeth told her.
“That is hardly adequate.”
“It is more than you deserve.”
Lydia only grinned.
Netherfield glittered with candlelight when they arrived.
Mr. and Mrs. Bingley received their guests with unmistakable delight, Jane glowing so radiantly that Elizabeth thought her sister had never appeared more beautiful.
Mr. Bingley seemed incapable of standing more than two feet from his wife, a tendency that inspired equal parts affection and amusement among the family.
Darcy claimed Elizabeth for the first two sets, and by now no one thought to object.
She danced with greater ease than she had ever believed possible, secure in the knowledge that his admiration was no longer uncertain and her own heart no longer divided by doubts of prudence and position.
The world he offered her remained larger than anything she had imagined for herself; whenever she looked at him she found no sense of displacement.
He regarded her exactly as she wished to be regarded: with affection, respect, and an understanding that she need not become anyone other than herself.
During the interval before supper, Mr. Wilson approached with a lady on his arm.
Miss Charlotte Lucas.
Elizabeth started in surprise.
Charlotte’s eyes sparkled with unmistakable amusement.
“Lizzy,” she said, “you appear astonished.”
“I am.”
Mr. Wilson bowed. His expression held more ease than Elizabeth had ever seen in him.
“I hope you will allow me to present Miss Lucas in a somewhat altered capacity.”
Charlotte raised one brow. “He means to say that I have accepted him.”
Elizabeth clasped her friend’s hands.
“Charlotte! Mr. Wilson! I am delighted.”
“And considerably relieved,” Charlotte said in low tones. “He is industrious, sensible, and talks somewhat too much, but I have every confidence I shall manage him.”
Wilson laughed, and for the first time Elizabeth could imagine him perfectly suited to another woman.
In retrospect, Elizabeth wondered that she had not perceived it sooner. Charlotte had always listened to Mr. Wilson with more patience than anyone else and possessed the practical good sense to value qualities others sometimes overlooked.
Later, after supper, Mr. Bingley rapped his glass for attention.
The room gradually quieted.
“My friends,” he said, beaming with characteristic openness, “as this evening celebrates many happy prospects, I believe another announcement ought to be made.”
He gestured toward Mr. Wilson and Charlotte.
Wilson, looking both proud and slightly overwhelmed, bowed.
Miss Lucas curtsied with admirable composure.
A delay upon the road had prevented several expected guests from arriving earlier, and their appearance at that moment drew renewed attention to the ballroom doors.
Before the congratulations had completely subsided, another group entered the ballroom and occasioned a fresh stir of interest.
Darcy, having been engaged in a hushed conversation with Elizabeth, redirected his attention, and his countenance displayed a warmth she had come to recognize.
“My sister has arrived.”
Elizabeth looked toward the entrance with immediate curiosity.
Miss Georgiana Darcy entered on the arm of Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.
Though still young, she possessed a sweetness of countenance and a gentleness of manner that inspired affection almost at first sight.
Colonel Fitzwilliam, by contrast, carried himself with an ease and good humor that seemed to enliven every conversation into which he stepped.
With them was a third gentleman whom Elizabeth had not previously met.
He was of pleasing appearance, with open features and an expression of frank intelligence. There was an unaffected steadiness in his manner that inspired confidence from the first moment.
Darcy brought them forward without delay.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” he said, with unmistakable pleasure, “allow me to present my sister, Miss Darcy; my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam; and Mr. George Wickham.”
Georgiana curtsied with a mixture of grace and shyness that Elizabeth found endearing.
“I have long wished to know you,” Georgiana said, her eyes warm despite her evident nervousness.
Colonel Fitzwilliam bowed. “Any lady who has accomplished what my cousin once declared impossible has my deepest admiration.”
Elizabeth laughed and liked him at once.
Mr. Wickham bowed with equal warmth. “Miss Bennet, I am very happy to make your acquaintance at last. Darcy has spoken of Hertfordshire so often of late that I begin to suspect he thinks more of this county than of Derbyshire.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed. “That is saying a great deal.”
Color rose in Darcy’s face, to Elizabeth’s private satisfaction.
Mr. Wickham’s manner was so easy and agreeable that Elizabeth liked him immediately. There was a readiness in his conversation that put others at ease, but without the slightest tendency toward self-importance.
Darcy, observing her favorable impression, seemed pleased.
“Wickham has recently accepted the living at Lambton,” he said.
Mr. Wickham bowed. “Thanks entirely to Darcy’s generosity. I am still searching for a curate willing to take charge of Kympton, but once that matter is settled, I expect to be established in Derbyshire before spring.”
“You must allow me to thank you in advance,” Elizabeth said, turning to Darcy with a smile. “It is a comfort to know Pemberley will be so well supplied with sensible clergy.”
“I make no promises regarding my sermons,” Wickham said. “Only that they shall be shorter than most.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed again, and even Georgiana’s reserved expression brightened.
Lydia, who had drifted near during the introductions, fixed her attention upon Mr. Wickham with an intensity that left little room for doubt.
When he turned to address her with his usual easy civility, she blushed so deeply that Kitty stared in astonishment.
Elizabeth observed the alteration.
So, she thought, another campaign was already beginning.
And from the first moment, it was perfectly clear that Lydia Bennet was utterly smitten.
Congratulations spread throughout the room, and Sir William looked so delighted that he seemed in danger of embracing half the assembly.
Lydia leaned toward Elizabeth.
“You see? We improve everybody.”
“I do not believe you had anything to do with this engagement.”
Lydia considered. “Perhaps only indirectly.”
Darcy, standing beside Elizabeth, murmured, “I have learned never to underestimate your sister’s influence.”
The evening continued in a whirl of music, conversation, and more dancing than Elizabeth would once have thought possible.
Darcy danced with her whenever propriety allowed and spent the intervening sets in conversation with her father, assisting Mrs. Bennet, and, at one memorable moment, retrieving Toby from beneath the refreshment table after an ill-advised attempt to inspect the desserts before supper.
By the time the final set concluded, Netherfield seemed less a neighboring estate than an extension of the life they had all built together.
At the carriage, Lydia announced once more that history would record her contributions with gratitude.
Kitty rolled her eyes, though without conviction.
Mary declared that matchmaking, when guided by benevolent motives, could scarcely be condemned.
Mr. Bennet observed that posterity would have much to answer for.
Darcy handed Elizabeth into the carriage and took his place beside her.
Thomas and Toby wedged themselves opposite, their faces unusually thoughtful.
For almost five minutes they remained silent.
Elizabeth should have known it could not last.
Thomas leaned forward.
“Kitty is nearly eighteen.”
Toby nodded. “We ought to begin considering suitable gentlemen.”
Darcy closed his eyes briefly.
Lydia clapped in delight.
Kitty gasped.
Mrs. Bennet began laughing so hard that tears ran down her cheeks.
Elizabeth rested her head against Darcy’s shoulder.
He slipped an arm around her and looked across the carriage at the two boys who had, through persistence, ingenuity, and a startling disregard for conventional boundaries, altered the course of all their lives.
The twins were already arguing over possible candidates.
Darcy listened intently, then bent to murmur in Elizabeth’s ear.
“I fear,” he said, with all the solemnity the occasion deserved, “that your brothers have no intention of retiring from matchmaking.”
Elizabeth laughed, and the sound mingled with the voices of her family as the carriage rolled through the winter night toward home.
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