The Houseguest A Pride and Prejudice Vagary (35 page)

She smiled and he saw pure love and adoration in her
eyes. “Make me yours, Fitzwilliam.”

Epilogue

Darcy took Elizabeth to the Lakes for a wedding trip, and he soon saw the
advantages of pleasing one's wife. He set out to indulge her daily, and she
reciprocated in the most delightful ways. He now understood the sometimes
bemused expression he saw on some of his recently married acquaintance and why
Bingley was so jovial during their last visit, even beyond his usual
cheerfulness. 
Elizabeth was a delight. A charming, lovely, sweet, enchanting temptress. He
found himself smiling at the oddest times, and while never one to become giddy
or foolishly grin at nothing, he did catch himself, on more than one occasion,
on the cusp of releasing a very un-manly laugh. He would not call it a giggle
exactly, but its very presence did unnerve him somewhat. 
Elizabeth was no less pleased with her husband. He was her rock, her protector,
her provider, and her dearest friend. She feared nothing and counted on him for
everything. The material advantages of her marriage were not important to her
beyond her daily comforts, but he provided something infinitely more valuable
to her. He knew her, understood her tastes and preferences, and went out of his
way to show her a view he thought she would appreciate or purchase a book he
thought she would like.
She was doted on, cared for, and thoroughly loved. Her independence did not
balk at his solicitude as she thought it might, for he was neither high-handed
nor officious with her, but careful to ask her opinion on matters that
concerned her. He trusted her completely and it showed in every touch, every
show of confidence, and every word said in her praise. She found that her love
for him grew daily, and that just when she thought she could not care for him
more, he did something unexpected and her heart grew in affection for him. She
was always quick to show her regard and her husband was exceedingly happy with
this aspect of his wife's disposition.
A few months after their wedding, a joyful Elizabeth told her husband that she
expected she was with child. Early the following September, shortly after their
first wedding anniversary, Elizabeth gave birth to a rosy baby boy, whom they
called Bennet. He was followed in quick succession by his brother Richard, a
decidedly large baby – which Elizabeth wasted no time in blaming on her taller-than-average
husband. Next came Madeline, Henry, Helen, and Jonathon in two year
increments. 
Jane and Charles Bingley were just as happy as everyone predicted they would
be. Within a year of their wedding, they were blessed with a daughter, christened
Elizabeth. They then bought an estate in Yorkshire and moved only thirty miles
away from Pemberley. After getting settled, Jane increased again, resulting in
their second daughter, Margaret. She was followed twenty months later by a son
and heir, a fiery-haired boy called Charles. 
The Bingleys were happier than even they thought they could be, and Jane and
Elizabeth delighted in the knowledge that their children would grow up
together. It was because of their closeness that Elizabeth noticed and then became
worried when Jane began increasing rapidly when young Charles was two years
old. Jane became so uncomfortable and short of breath that she was forced to
lie down for the last six weeks of her confinement. Finally, she delivered two
healthy girls, Jane and Marianne.
Mrs. Bingley (in a very un-Jane-like display) swore she would never be the same
again and vowed to not have another baby. Poor Charles felt so badly after his
wife's ordeal that he promised to stay away from her, even going so far as to
move into another room in a separate wing to keep temptation at bay.
He kept his word for nearly four months before succumbing, once again, to his
angel. Jane was fortunate, however, and it wasn't until the twins were
celebrating their fourth birthday that she delivered a healthy, bawling boy,
christened William after his uncle. The delivery was blessedly easy and
afterward, Charles was allowed to remain with his wife in 
their
 room.
Two years after they wed, the Darcys hosted a house party. Among the guests was
Elizabeth's sister Mary, the Bingleys, and a Mr. Hargrove from Buckinghamshire.
Or was it Northamptonshire? Elizabeth wasted no time in introducing the parson
to her very single sister. His position, morals, and upright standards
attracted Mary, and her piety, seriousness, and perky bosom (not unlike her
sister's) attracted him. Eight months later, a very pleased Elizabeth attended
their wedding. 
When she was seventeen, Lydia Bennet was caught kissing a militia officer
behind the stable and was promptly sent to stay with Mr. Bennet's sister, Sarah
Gordon. Horrid Thomas Gordon had inherited his father's estate and Michael had
joined the Royal Navy. Thomas's wife and Lydia tolerated each other to a
degree, and when Michael returned home with three of his fellow officers for a
long visit, the young Mrs. Gordon wasted no time pushing Lydia toward the
eligible sailors. 
Four months later, a rather robust and glowing Lydia wed Commander Henry
Jackson. Commander Jackson found much happiness in being aboard a vessel for
long months at a time, then returning home to his young and vibrant wife, only
to leave her again in a month's time. They lived in Essex and had three
daughters, which Mrs. Bennet blamed on the water. If it weren't for all the sea
air, and all the unhealthy, salty water, she knew that her darling girl would
have done her duty and provided a whole flock of sons, she was sure of it.
Catherine Bennet wed a vicar she met in Yorkshire while visiting her sister
Jane, whom she had grown considerably closer to since the latter's marriage and
defection from Hertfordshire. They courted simply and wed quickly, then
proceeded to have three sons in four years. Mrs. Bennet was exceedingly proud,
and for the first time, Kitty had her mother's favor over her younger
sister. 
Charlotte and Mr. Collins were blessed with only two daughters in seven years
of marriage. Mr. Collins was not pleased, especially after seeing how prolific
his cousins were, and with so many boys among them! Even the plain and dour
Mary had had two sons after only four years of marriage. He could not
comprehend how they were so much more successful at begetting heirs than he.
Perhaps it was Charlotte? She was seven and twenty when they married. Could she
be too old to bear sons? Of course, it never occurred to him that he might want
to visit his wife's chambers more than once a week if he wished for more
offspring.
Charlotte was happy with her two daughters, Catherine Ann, who unfortunately
had the look of her father about her, and Rose Charlotte, who was a more
delicate version of Charlotte herself. Sadly, she never did become Mistress of
Longbourn. When their youngest was but three years old, poor Mr. Collins became
ill with pneumonia after a severe cold he contracted while trying to deliver
spiritual edification to Lady Catherine during a heavy rain. After three weeks
in his bed, he succumbed to the illness, and Charlotte became a widow at four
and thirty. She and her daughters moved to a cottage on the Bennet estate so
that she might be closer to her family and her daughters could be raised near
the home of her childhood.
Mrs. Bennet was so thrilled to see her daughters well married that she was
constantly in some sort of over-excited fit. Five daughters married! And to
such wealthy, agreeable gentlemen! Even Mary had found a husband, and was now
on her fourth confinement. When she thought of Lydia’s young commander, such a
handsome sailor, oh my! 
She was so proud, nary a conversation went by that she did not exclaim to her
neighbors of the good fortune of her daughters and the great beauty and
accomplishments (and inheritances) of her grandchildren. One day, while
expostulating to Lady Lucas, she became so excited that she fainted clean away.
She was removed to her chambers and three days later, Mrs. Bennet was no
more. 
Mr. Bennet remained a widower for the rest of his considerable time on earth.
Mr. Collins had been the last generation of a three-generation entail, and with
his death, and his lack of heirs, Mr. Bennet had a change of heart. Where he
previously was resigned to losing his estate, he now felt inclined to fight for
it, and with the assistance of his sons-in-law – and Mr. Darcy and Mr.
Hargrove’s combined political influence due to their families – the entail was
broken and Mr. Bennet was then free to leave his property to whomever he chose.

He thought it fair that since he had no sons, his home
should go to his eldest grandson. Bennet Darcy was already in line to inherit
Pemberley, so the next eldest grandson, Richard Darcy, became the heir to his
grandfather's estate. He felt it only right that his favorite child's son, the
one who had most enjoyed Longbourn and knew every tree and stream, should
inherit the family home. The fact that Richard had both his mother's expressive
eyes and lively disposition only endeared him more and was further evidence
that Mr. Bennet had made the right decision.
Mr. Bennet found that without a wife to hide from, his bookroom was no longer
as appealing as it had once been. He took great pleasure in having his three
eldest grandsons, Bennet, Richard, and Charles, visit him each summer, and
showing them the land of his fathers and the home that, though often neglected,
he loved. With a Darcy set to inherit the Longbourn Estate, Mr. Darcy chose to
invest in new equipment and farming techniques, considerably raising the
earnings of the property. And of course, without Mrs. Bennet's constant
entertaining and bills from the dressmaker's, much of the income was now able
to be saved, creating a profitable estate with full coffers for the young Darcy
to inherit. 
Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam blushed prettily when told his cousin's child would
be christened after him – which Darcy only teased him minimally about – and he
accepted the role of godfather with honor. He stood up with his brother Cyril
at his wedding to the wealthy daughter of an earl, and watched silently as his
brother continued his loose ways, despite the presence of a pretty wife at
home. He congratulated Cyril when his first daughter was born, and condoled
with him when his wife died shortly after the birth of their second
daughter. 
Richard seemed content to remain on the outside, near his cousins' or his
brother's families, and his mother feared that he would remain so forever. She
introduced him to every heiress she had an even passing acquaintance with. When
that failed, she broadened her search to ladies who were well connected, but
not well dowered. Eventually, she cast her net to include those even remotely
suitable, some with small dowries, others with less than stellar pedigrees. She
conferred with her husband and they were able to use a portion of her own
dowry, which was for the dowries of daughters they never had, to purchase a
house in town. They let it out for the time being, but Lady Matlock vowed that
as soon as she saw Richard showing interest in someone, 
anyone
, she would tell him about the home
they had purchased for him and the subsequent freedom that would allow him.
Her wish was to come true in an unexpected way. Richard had become friends with
the Gardiners through Elizabeth and Darcy, and he was frequently invited to
dine. Being a soldier, he was not nearly as proud as his brother the viscount,
or even as his noble, though kind, parents. He had no problem rubbing elbows
with those who worked for a living, for he knew that although he had a generous
allowance from his father, he too earned his own bread. 
It was at one such dinner party that he was introduced to a Mr. Duncan, a
middle-aged man who was known for his considerable success in industry. More
interesting to Richard was Mr. Duncan's daughter, a Miss Amelia with auburn
hair and porcelain skin. He thought her eyes were the greenest he had ever seen
and her voice was like a soothing rain to parched land. 
He made quick work of calling on her, and soon he was asking her father for a
formal courtship. After witnessing his cousin's happy marriage to a poor woman,
and his brother's miserable existence with an heiress, he knew which he
preferred. Permission was granted and Richard was faced with telling his mother
of his intentions toward the daughter of a man actively involved in trade. His
parents were not happy at first, but upon the realization that Richard would
not change his mind – and upon learning of her dowry of forty thousand pounds –
compounded with the fear of losing him forever, they agreed to meet her and try
their best to like her.
It was difficult at first, but they grew to respect Amelia and she them, and
soon an engagement was announced, followed three months later by a wedding.
Richard resigned his commission, and he and Amelia moved into the house his
parents had purchased and quickly filled it with four children, two boys and
two girls, who were doted on by their grandparents.
Oddly, Cyril never did remarry. His estate had the benefit of his late wife's
dowry and did not need another, and he was not overly fond of the married
state. So it was that upon his brother's early death, Richard Fitzwilliam
became the sixth earl of Matlock, a position he had never wanted nor aspired
to. Amelia Fitzwilliam, a woman born of trade, became a countess and successor
to a long line of highly influential women in the ton. It is no surprise that
she found an ally and friend in her new cousin Elizabeth, and between the two
of them, they navigated the murky waters of London society with their dignity
intact.
Caroline Bingley was so enraged after hearing about Elizabeth's engagement and
Darcy's betrayal that she stayed in her room for a month. Once the news of the
wedding was released, she threw herself heartily into the season. She laughed
and flirted with every eligible man over twenty-two and under fifty. By the end
of the year, she had secured two offers of courtship and one proposal. She
accepted the latter and moved to his estate in Warwickshire, a pretty property
smaller than Netherfield but larger than Longbourn. 
There, much to her chagrin, she proceeded to have five daughters in nine years.
Her marriage suffered only slightly less than her figure after so many confinements.
Finally, in her twelfth year of marital cohabitation, she produced the much
longed for son, named John for his father. Her husband was so pleased, and her
illness during her pregnancy had been such that both her marriage and figure
improved, and Caroline Hutton, nee Bingley, found a measure of contentment,
spotted with the occasional dash of joy.
Louisa Hurst finally did her duty and fell with child, but before her son was
born, Mr. Hurst choked on a chicken bone and despite heroic efforts on the part
of a footman, it could not be dislodged. Louisa gave birth as a widow and
remained on her husband's estate until her son came of age. The heroic footman
loyally followed her thither and, according to her brother, Louisa was said to
be content and even happy. Sometimes, she would not be seen by anyone for
months at a time, but she did not seem to mind and society did not seem to
truly care. Her son grew up well with the other children on the estate, three
of which looked remarkably similar to him and had rooms in the same hall as he,
but being a happy child, he never questioned it.
Lady Catherine refused to acknowledge Elizabeth until she produced an heir, and
her desire to see the boy could not be quenched. They established a tentative
peace which was once again shattered when Ann deBourgh died of consumption in
1816. Lady Catherine blamed Elizabeth, stating that if Anne had married Darcy,
she would have lived. This made no sense, of course, and Darcy was beside
himself with anger at Lady Catherine and her ridiculous need to place blame on
everyone but herself. However, Elizabeth could only feel pity for a grieving
mother and refused to take offense at anything the older woman said.
Lady Catherine would occasionally visit the Darcys in London, though neither
ever traveled to the other's estate again. Sometimes she would speak to
Elizabeth, other times not, depending on how angry she was feeling that day.
Mrs. Darcy chose to see it for the ridiculous spectacle it was, and they
continued on in this manner until Lady Catherine's death. Even on her deathbed,
she protested her illness, saying she likely would have lived longer than
everyone present had her maid not come into contact with a rather sick groom
carrying typhoid fever.
Georgiana was beyond pleased to have a sister she adored and a brother who was
so happy he was actually caught smiling on more than one occasion. The winter
before she came out, which was postponed a year due to Georgiana’s desire to be
with Elizabeth during her confinement, the Darcys hosted a Christmas ball at
Pemberley. Georgiana was allowed to attend and dance with the family as she was
already seventeen and would be presented in the spring. To her surprise, young
Miss Darcy found herself drawn to a tall, thin man with ice blue eyes and jet
black hair. Being such a close friend of the family, he was allowed to dance
with Georgiana, and by the end of their set, neither she nor Sir Malcolm was
unaffected.
Elizabeth saw it all and was not surprised when, the day after her coming out
ball in April, Sir Malcolm was at the door, requesting a courtship with the
(now eighteen) Georgiana. After a year of courting and engagement, they were
wed at Pemberley. Darcy was pleased to have his sister settled so close to him
and with such a trusted friend, and Elizabeth was glad to know that both her
friend and sister had found happiness.
Sir Malcolm and Lady Georgiana Rutherford had three sons and two daughters; the
girls were the image of their mother, with honeyed curls and large blue eyes. The
second and third sons were almost copies of their father, but by some strange
stroke of fate, their first, Robert, had the look of his Uncle Darcy about
him. 
Elizabeth found this all very funny when young Robert, who looked more like her
husband every day, began to show signs of affection for Jane's daughter
Marianne, whom everyone said was spectacularly similar to Elizabeth in
appearance, though not as much in temperament. As the three families grew up
near each other, and Robert and Marianne seemed to grow closer and closer, she
could not help but cast her memory to the past and remember her own courtship
to her beloved husband.
Even after twenty-five years of marriage, she was still blissfully happy and
completely devoted to her now gray, but still handsome, husband. She had always
thought him to be of an even temperament, one not prone to change or whims of
the moment. But he had surpassed even her expectations as a husband. He had
proven himself to be a steadfast and loyal companion, a tender and passionate
lover, and wholly devoted to her happiness and their success as a couple. 
The wife of Mr. Darcy had such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily
attached to her situation that she had, upon the whole, no cause to
repine.