Epilogue
At the beginning of May, Longbourn Church witnessed a double wedding that would be talked of in Hertfordshire for many a year.
Jane Bennet became Mrs Bingley, and Elizabeth Bennet became Mrs Darcy before a congregation that filled every pew and left latecomers standing in the aisle.
The morning was fine, the air soft with the promise of summer, and the church bells rang out with a cheerfulness that seemed to match the general mood of the neighbourhood — except, perhaps, for those few who had once hoped for different alliances.
From the day she first heard of Elizabeth’s engagement, Mrs Bennet had lived upon the very edge of her nerves.
She could not believe the intelligence true.
She prayed to the Lord every single day for the preservation of so magnificent a fortune; and she spent the intervening weeks in a continual flutter of fear that Mr Darcy might yet change his mind.
No amount of reassurance from Mr Bennet, from Jane, or from Elizabeth herself could wholly quiet her until the day of the wedding finally arrived.
When she saw Elizabeth with Mr Darcy waiting at the altar in quiet dignity, next to Jane and her Mr Bingley, Mrs Bennet’s fears were at last overwhelmed by triumph.
She wept freely and declared afterwards that she had never been happier in her life — though she still could not quite believe it had happened.
Miss Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam attended the ceremony, as did Mr and Mrs Gardiner.
Miss Darcy, radiant with joy, embraced her new sister with tears of unfeigned happiness.
The colonel, good-humoured as ever, declared that he had seldom seen two couples better suited, while the Gardiners looked on with quiet pride, Mrs Gardiner in particular reflecting upon the chain of small accidents and larger kindnesses that had brought them all to this day.
The entire neighbourhood envied the Bennets their extraordinary good fortune.
Two daughters married in a single morning — one to a gentleman of five thousand a year, the other to a man of even greater consequence and estate — was a stroke of luck almost beyond comprehension.
Mixed with the envy was a general pity for Mary King, who had ended her adventure by marrying the scoundrel George Wickham.
The match was already spoken of with regret; Mr King’s fortune was said to be much reduced, and Wickham’s character, once so freely praised, was now universally condemned.
Lord and Lady Matlock had disapproved of Darcy’s choice at first. The idea of their nephew marrying a young woman of no fortune and little consequence had struck them as an unwise and uneven alliance.
Yet at the insistence of Miss Darcy, and of Darcy himself, they consented to meet Elizabeth.
A single evening in her company — marked by her ready wit, her unaffected manners, and the obvious happiness she brought their nephew — softened their objections and made them realise Darcy had decided his future with or without their approval.
Lady Catherine de Bourgh, however, remained unappeased.
She was furious beyond measure. That her nephew should set aside her own long-cherished plans for her daughter and marry instead a girl from Hertfordshire of no distinction was an affront she could neither forgive nor forget.
She swore she would never speak to Darcy or to Elizabeth again, and she kept her word with utter consistency.
Mr Collins, out of loyalty to his illustrious patroness, cut all ties with the Bennet family.
He wrote a long and solemn letter to Mr Bennet explaining that, under the present unhappy circumstances, further communication would be improper and possibly injurious to his standing with Lady Catherine.
Only Charlotte found a way to send Elizabeth a private note of sincere congratulation, expressing her hope that the new Mrs Darcy would be as happy as she deserved and that they might one day meet again under happier skies.
After the wedding, Elizabeth and Darcy set out for London, where they were to spend a quiet fortnight before the longer journey north.
Miss Darcy would accompany them to Derbyshire, as happy in her brother’s marriage as he was himself.
She already considered Elizabeth her true sister, and the prospect of living together at Pemberley filled her with a steady, radiant contentment.
Furthermore, Mr Bingley asked Mr Darcy to help him find an estate in Derbyshire, closer to Pemberley, so Jane could be near to her two sisters — Elizabeth and Georgiana.
Pemberley received them with all the quiet splendour of early summer.
The woods were in full leaf, the river ran clear and bright, and the house itself seemed to welcome its new mistress.
Within a short time, the Gardiners arrived, then the Bingleys travelled from Netherfield, bringing with them Mr and Mrs Bennet and their younger daughters.
As a concession, with Darcy’s agreement, Mr Bingley extended the invitation to his own sisters, who first declined, then made an embarrassing appearance at Pemberley.
Yet even their sour expressions and cutting remarks were unable to ruin anyone’s joy and happiness.
Elizabeth, walking the paths of Pemberley with her husband beside her and her new sister never far away, often reflected upon the strange and happy succession of accidents and coincidences that had led her there.
A near-fall in Hyde Park, a chance introduction, a sisterly bond formed almost by accident, a fortnight in Kent that had altered everything — each small moment had played its part.
“Are you happy, Mrs Darcy?” he asked one evening, as they stood together at the window of their bedchamber, overlooking the park.
She smiled. The answer needed no words, yet she gave them nonetheless.
“I am happier than I ever thought I could be. And you?”
He took her hand and raised it to his lips.
“From the moment you accepted me,” he said, “I have been the happiest of men. And I intend to remain so.”
Behind them, through the open windows, came the sound of Georgiana’s pianoforte and Jane’s soft laughter.
The sisterly bond that had begun in London and deepened through every trial now stretched comfortably across two blissful unions of two perfectly suited couples, joined together with a little help from a most remarkable sister.
The End