Jane looked up at once. “Lizzy—what is it? You have been out with Mr. Darcy, and now you look…” She tilted her head, eyes narrowing with gentle curiosity. “…like you are about to burst.”
Elizabeth crossed the room and caught her sister’s hands. “He asked me to marry him.”
Jane’s work fell unheeded into her lap. “Lizzy!” she cried, springing up to embrace her. “Oh, I am so happy for you! I could not imagine a man more worthy of you—or one who loves you more dearly.”
Elizabeth laughed into her sister’s shoulder, relief and joy mingling. “I am quite certain I love him more than I knew was possible.”
Jane drew back to study her, her own eyes bright with tears. “And to think, after all that has happened, you have found your happiness in the very man you once claimed to dislike.”
Elizabeth smiled ruefully. “I was taken with momentary madness, then. I see him now as he truly is.”
They embraced again, and for a moment Elizabeth wished they could linger there, just the two of them, letting the joy settle between them in peace. But she knew the news could not be kept secret long.
By the time they descended together to the drawing room, Darcy was already there, speaking quietly with Mr. Bennet. Elizabeth guessed from her father’s expression—a mix of surprise, pleasure, and the faintest trace of wry humour—that Darcy had asked for her hand in the proper way.
Her mother, Mrs. Bennet, was seated on the sofa with Mary and Kitty. “What is this, Mr. Bennet?” she demanded as soon as she caught sight of Darcy. “Why is Mr. Darcy looking at Lizzy so…so…” She waved her hand vaguely. “in that manner?”
Mr. Bennet gave Elizabeth a pointed look. “Perhaps you ought to tellthem, my dear.”
Elizabeth stepped forward, her hands clasped lightly before her. “Mr. Darcy has done me the great honor of asking for my hand in marriage. And I… have accepted.”
For a heartbeat, the room was utterly still. Then Mrs. Bennet clapped her hands together so sharply that Kitty jumped. “Oh, gracious heavens! Lizzy! Married to Mr. Darcy of Pemberley! Oh, my dear girl, you will be mistress of such an estate as I have never seen! Ten thousand a year at the very least! Oh, Mr. Bennet, this is splendid—splendid, I say!”
Kitty and Lydia gasped and rushed forward to hug their sister, each begging to stand up with her. Mary inclined her head gravely and murmured her congratulations, though Elizabeth thought she saw the faintest smile at the corners of Mary’s mouth.
Mr. Bennet’s voice cut through his wife’s effusions. “I am very pleased for you, Lizzy. I trust you will be happy—and that Mr. Darcy will know the value of the treasure he has won.”
Darcy, standing straight and steady beside her, inclined his head. “I assure you, sir, I do.”
Mrs. Bennet was still half in raptures, half in disbelief. “Oh, I must write to my sister Phillips at once! And Mrs. Long! And—oh, I daresay all of Meryton will know by supper! Such a fine match! Such prospects!”
Elizabeth caught Jane’s eye across the room, the two of them exchanging a private smile in the midst of their mother’s exclamations. For all the commotion, Elizabeth felt as though a kind of peace had settled inside her at last—warm, steady, and unshakable.
Darcy’s hand brushed against hers again, almost imperceptibly, and she thought of their walk in the garden, of the promise in his kiss. Whatever storms might come, they would meet them together.
Epilogue
December 1811
Longbourn
Snowfellinslow,drifting patterns outside Longbourn’s windows on the morning of December twenty-third, laying a pale quilt over the lawn and turning the surrounding hedgerows into frosted lace. Inside, the warmth of the drawing room could barely contain the excitement that had consumed the Bennet household for days: today was the wedding day of not one daughter, but two.
Jane and Elizabeth, dressed in soft winter-white silks with capes of white velvet trimmed in swan’s down, stood side by side before the mirror in Jane’s chamber. Mrs. Bennet had wept nearly the whole morning, though she paused now and then to issue hurried instructions to Hill or remark on how “all of Meryton will talk of nothing else for years to come.”
It was Mrs. Bennet’s dearest boast that her two most beautiful daughters would be married on the same day to men of fortune and consequence. The church at Meryton had never looked more festive—its pews filled with neighbours and friends, the altar garlanded with evergreen and winter roses. The Reverend Mr. Smythe performed the double ceremony, his voice warm and steady as he pronounced Charles Bingley and Jane Bennet, Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet, man and wife.
Mrs. Bennet’s joy overflowed into near rapture, and by the time they returned to Longbourn for the wedding breakfast, she had begun proclaiming to any guest within earshot that she must be “the happiest mother in England.” Even Mr. Bennet, usually so reserved, was seen to smile with real warmth when offering his toast.
True to his word, Darcy had already taken Kitty and Lydia to London for new gowns in anticipation of the wedding, allowing Mrs. Bennet to declare that her younger daughters looked “quite as fine as any lady of the ton.” While in Town, Darcy also penned a letter to his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, informing her of the unfortunate death of Mr. Collins and the settlement of Longbourn’s succession. Not a word was said of the forthcomingwedding.
Elizabeth accompanied her new husband to London shortly after their vows to meet Georgiana and the Fitzwilliams before the holiday season was in full swing. The earl and countess received her with such warmth that Elizabeth felt at ease within minutes, and Georgiana’s shy affection quickly deepened into a genuine sisterly bond. To Darcy’s relief, Georgiana also took a decided liking to Kitty and Lydia—who had been invited to stay in Town for a fortnight—and the three young ladies found themselves often together on expeditions to the shops and at musical evenings.
Lady Catherine, however, was not so easily won. She learned of the marriage only when it was too late to interfere. Her letter to Darcy arrived weeks later at Pemberley—pages of scathing reproach in her bold, imperious hand, ending with the promise that she would “never again acknowledge” him. Darcy read it without visible reaction, folded it neatly, and placed it in his desk drawer. Elizabeth merely raised an eyebrow when told, remarking that she doubted Lady Catherine’s resolution would last more than a year.
Bingley, for his part, was quick to act on his own plans for the future. Knowing now that Jane would inherit Longbourn, he purchased Purvis Lodge, an estate a short ride away, which had once acquired several tracts ofLongbourn’s land after the old house was destroyed by fire. Purvis Lodge would serve not only as their first home, but in years to come as the dower house for Longbourn itself.
Among the treasures recovered from the study during the search for Malcolm Bennet were the original plans for the estate—ink drawings of the Elizabethan manor that had stood before the fire. The intricate network of servants’ halls and hidden passages, long a source of mystery and danger, was now better understood. Bingley commissioned skilled workmen to make the entire network safe, connecting the old passages with the newer ones so they might be used freely. The servants’ quarters, once cramped and ill-ventilated, were expanded so that no maid or footman need share a bedchamber again.
