Dear Friends,

By some unaccountable and irreproducible error, for the last several months the second edition in Kindle and paperback has been lacking the Epilogue. I offer my humble apologies, and until we can get this straightened out through Amazon, I am posting the entire text here. Thank you for your understanding.


Epilogue


Pemberley, Christmas Day



Elizabeth left her chambers after dressing for the day and went in search of her recent acquisition; she found him seated in the breakfast-room, quietly reading the paper along with her Uncle Gardiner. The two men rose as she entered, and she was kissed first by her uncle, then more spiritedly by her husband. When she was seated, Reynolds brought her a cup of tea.

“Good morning, Reynolds. Is your back at all better?” she asked with concern.

“Yes, thank you very much, Madam. That plaster was a vast help, and I slept well for the first time in weeks; amazing.”

Elizabeth patted his arm, smiling up at him. “I am so glad; it always worked for my father.”

“Yes, Madam; thank you again.” He smiled at her in an almost paternal manner before turning back to the side-board.

On her arrival in Derbyshire some four weeks earlier, Elizabeth had been pleasantly surprised at how smoothly Pemberley was run; her day-to-day responsibilities were minimal: but she recognized how invaluable Reynolds was to its operation, so when she had heard he was losing sleep with a bad back, she had instantly thought of the soap-and-salt plaster her father used on his back when it seized. She and Jane had been making it for years, as her mother could never quite remember the recipe properly.

“Where is my aunt?” she asked Mr. Gardiner.

“She is somewhere about,” he said. “She finished breakfast and, tiring of watching the two of us read and dawdle, she went off in search of occupation.”

“It will be time for services before too long,” Elizabeth pointed out.

“Yes, my dear; I am sure she will not have forgotten Morning Service on Christmas Day,” Mr. Gardiner said, amused.

“Gardiner,” Darcy spoke up from behind his paper, “have you any idea where my wife got this notion that no one is capable of running their lives without her help?”

“Certainly not from my side of the family,” he said. “Yet it seems unlikely to have come through my brother Bennet: it almost makes me wonder if my sister had outside help.”

Elizabeth gasped. “I shall throw something at you in a moment!” she warned him.

“And where did she acquire that habit?” queried her uncle.

“Ah…that comes from my side,” Darcy admitted with some embarrassment. “I throw things: pillows, and rolls and such; and my aunt has been known to throw a spoon with deadly accuracy.”

“Charming,” said Mr. Gardiner dryly.

“Is not it?” put in Elizabeth with pleasure. “I do adore these little customs of the ton; they give one so much more latitude of expression in daily life.”

“Are you saying I belong to the ton?” Darcy asked in an injured voice. “I hope I am not so trifling a person as that.”

“Oh, my dear!” Elizabeth jumped up and soothed him with caresses, at which her uncle rolled his eyes and shook his paper, lifting it even higher in front of him. Darcy, mollified, put his arm around his wife and said, “You look well, my dear; am I fit to accompany you to church?”

“You look very well, indeed,” she told him gently. “Blue becomes you exceedingly,” she said, smoothing his lapels with the palm of her hand.

“Did Perkins shave me properly?”

Elizabeth ran the back of her hand delicately across his cheek. “Umm, perfect,” she said softly. As the two of them seemed to have no immediate inclination to disentwine, Mr. Gardiner said pointedly, “I beg your pardon! Do you mind? Elizabeth, finish your breakfast, and have some respect for an old man’s feelings: poor Reynolds hardly knows where to look.” That worthy changed a laugh into a cough, turning away to the side table and adjusting the placement of the tea service quite unnecessarily.

Georgiana came in to join them at this moment, and Elizabeth ran to greet her; the sisters embraced, and walked together to the table arm in arm. Georgiana was also in looks, and, whether by design or coincidence, her frock went very well with Elizabeth’s.

The two ladies breakfasted lightly, chatting about the plans for the day’s activities; Mrs. Gardiner came in just as they finished, dressed for the out-of-doors and pulling on her gloves. “I have been outside,” she announced, “and the mist is clearing, but it will be a raw day; we shall need our coats. Darcy, do not forget you are to read the Lesson; the vicar’s asthma is bad and the curate is gone to Lambton for the early services.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Darcy said with a smile. It had been quite a while since he had found himself being shepherded to church by an older female relative, and he found the experience amusing. To Mr. Gardiner he said, “It strikes me, Gardiner, that perhaps managing men is just what women do; it seems to be quite a wide-spread practice amongst them.” Mr. Gardiner chuckled and nodded his agreement.

Ignoring this, Mrs. Gardiner said, “Come along; we must not keep the congregation waiting on such a day as this.” Darcy reflected that his new family had a remarkably well-developed sense of what was due one’s dependents, and honoured them for it.

The ride to Kympton was over in short order, and Elizabeth found herself once again seated in a place of prominence in the Darcy family pew; it was not an entirely new sensation to her to be shown respect by the villagers—it was so even at Longbourn—but she had to own it was done to a much different degree here at Pemberley. It had come back to her on more than one occasion that the villagers and tenants were glad to see the pew occupied, and that they were pleased that the estate had a new mistress at last. As mistress of Pemberley, one of her larger tasks up till now had been preparing for Boxing Day, with all the gifts for the many dependents of the estate. As it was to be her first real introduction to those she would live amongst, and would reflect strongly on her husband, she had taken the task very seriously; it had occasioned the early arrival of her aunt and uncle, Darcy having encouraged her to invite them to support her in her efforts, as she adjusted to her new rôle as patroness for what seemed to be half a county. Stevenson had made out a list of those to be included, and Elizabeth had consulted with him at length, as well as with her husband and the Reynoldses; it had taken quite a few shopping trips to Kympton, Matlock, and even Derby, to fill out the list, but it was done at last.

During services, Darcy was pleased to note that the congregation was quiet and orderly; this, he thought, must be out of respect for his new lady: she was as yet an unknown quantity to them; although, he had to admit, the glances towards him and his family were not anxious, or even curious—rather they reflected a sort of unobtrusive contentment, or so he thought; this could be merely a reflection of his own contentment, though, he supposed. When it was time for the Lesson, he rose and went to the lectern. There was a creak and shuffle as the congregation adjusted their seats and readied themselves to listen to him. The reading was out of Isaiah, for which Darcy was grateful; he had once had the rather wearisome task of recounting the nations of Abraham in Genesis, and had also once been thrust into a variety of particularly ferocious beasts in a gloomy section of Jeremiah. But to-day he found a particular meaning in the reading: “…The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light…”; this could certainly pertain to him, and the light Elizabeth had led him to. He scolded his mind back to his reading, and, up until “Here Endeth the First Lesson,” he kept his mind resolutely on the page before him.

Back in his pew, Mrs. Gardiner leaned over and whispered, “That was very well read, dear; you have a very nice voice for reading.”

He smiled his thanks, and turned his attention back to the vicar, who wisely spoke very little before calling for the Te Deum. Darcy led his family out down the aisle, and waited for the vicar to come out. As the rest of the congregation filed out, Darcy was pleased to see Corporal Sands, wearing his uniform jacket as usual, saunter out and join a small family gathering off to one side; one of the family members was a young woman of perhaps five-and-twenty, who, Darcy thought, showed more than a passing interest in the Corporal.

Darcy and his family staid just long enough to hear that the vicar’s affliction would not keep him from attending dinner that afternoon, and returned to Pemberley House, for there were still a number of preparations to be made. The carriage went through Lambton first, as Darcy had an errand to attend to, then on to Pemberley; the ride was soggy, but they made good time.

Elizabeth disappeared below stairs on their return, and Mrs. Gardiner set about putting the final touches on the decorations, including the placement of the mistletoe ball. Darcy saw with amusement that his sister was careful to adjust her path so she might never find herself under it, even though there were as yet no young men about.

“Who is it you wish to avoid, Dearest?” he teazed her. “That new curate, or young Horton?”

“Both, thank you, Brother,” said she with just a hint of asperity.

Darcy smiled at her in an apologetic way to show he was only playing; he rather suspected he was right about a tentative interest from the two young men, though; but knowing Georgiana, he was certain she did not return it: otherwise he should never have mentioned it. But he did enjoy sporting with her in this mild way, and was pleased that she allowed herself to show some slight pique; he hoped that, over time, such little ploys, in conjunction with Elizabeth’s example of liveliness and wit, might help increase her equanimity and assurance in company.

Mr. and Mrs. Bingley and the Bennets had, of course, been invited to spend the holidays at Pemberley, but Jane had expressed a wish to spend their first Christmas in their own home, and naturally Bingley would deny her nothing, although it must be admitted that he, too, enjoyed his new rôle, as one of the principle figures in the neighbourhood, to no small degree. And with the Bingley’s decision to stay at Netherfield, nothing could have torn Mrs. Bennet away from the chance to display her daughter’s circumstance and comfort, with great parade, to all their acquaintance in and around Meryton.

Through the afternoon the preparations continued, but all was in readiness well before the guests started arriving; the halls were covered in greenery, and gilded decorations adorned every corner. When the guests first began to arrive, Elizabeth went with Georgiana and Darcy to greet every one as they came in; Elizabeth smiled charmingly at her new neighbours, and Darcy found himself relaxing in a manner he never had before in such circumstances; being sensible that Elizabeth was there to support him—or rather, that he had only to support her—allowed him to greet his guests with a degree of welcome new to him. Georgiana, too, seemed more comfortable as the arrivals filed past, and added her voice to the greetings as well; Elizabeth had a pleasant word for every one, and had a knack of making each welcome seem very personal; perhaps, Darcy hoped and believed, because she truly enjoyed being mistress of Pemberley, and could not help but show it in the performance of her duties.

Dinner was a pleasant affair, marked by excellent food, quiet comfort throughout, and the occasional outburst of laughter. Afterwards, there were games and cards, and, while Georgiana carefully avoided it, the mistletoe ball had to be replaced twice. Darcy was fairly certain he could distinguish an understated interest from the curate, a young man new to the neighbourhood, but from a good family to the south, and also from young Alistair Horton, heir to Catton Hall; Georgiana, however, remained near her sister’s side, often with Elizabeth’s arm around her waist, leaving little opportunity for the two gentlemen to speak with her.

The vicar left early, and Elizabeth made sure he was well supplied with heated bricks for the carriage ride back to Kympton. Their revels lasted well into the evening, with a small ball and a supper to follow. However, Darcy had, for the health of his family and servants, determined not to let it go more than an hour past midnight, as the next day was also to be a tiring one.

On this Boxing Day Pemberley held open house, starting after breakfast and lasting through the afternoon; the many dependents of the estate were greeted with thanks, gifts, and food; the visitors included one hardy company of mummers, arrived from Lambton; Darcy was pleased to see Corporal Sands was amongst the company, assuring him thereby that the Corporal was fitting in well here in Derbyshire.

Drawing him aside, Darcy was pleased to give the Corporal a new, very fashionable coat to replace his uniform jacket. “I like the other well enough for your official duties as constable,” he told him, “but I suspect that you will soon have need of another, for a different sort of official ceremony.”

Sands whistled happily, saying, “I thank you, Major. You might just be right, at that.”

Darcy said, “I have had a note from Tewkes, you know; he says that things in Newcastle are quiet.”

“Aye, yer boy won’t be goin’ anywheres this winter,” the Corporal said complacently. “Come spring I’ll take a jaunt up there meself, an’ see if we can’t remind him wot’s wot.”

“How are your duties here?”

“Nothin’ to it, Major; I feel like I’m stealing your money.”

“What about Ferguson?”

“Aye, Ferguson,” the Corporal said ruminatively. “‘Im I will ‘ave to keep an eye on: one of us isn’t long for this part of the country.”

“He does have some size on him,” Darcy observed noncommittally.

“That’s all ‘e ‘as: ‘e’s all sound, no sand.”

“Well, I trust you to handle it,” said Darcy. “Just do try to stay within shouting distance of the law, and even closer to what is proper.”

“Aye, Major, that I will,” said the Corporal with a whistle. Clapping him on the shoulder, Darcy wished him a Happy Christmas and returned to his other duties as host.

For Perkins, he had prepared a very special gift; in the morning as they were in his dressing-room, he had given him a new watch and fob, but, a coach arriving from Lambton mid-morning, he called for his man; leading him to the front hall, he was very pleased to watch Perkins’s face as his Lara, weeping happily, descended from the coach; this had been Darcy’s errand in Lambton the day before, to ensure that Mrs. Perkins had been properly settled at the inn for the day. Darcy had brought her up from Meryton, Mrs. Reynolds having assured him that a place might be found for her in the household. Mr. and Mrs. Perkins were both in tears on this occasion, and Darcy was not above feeling a little constriction in his chest; his own lady coming up and taking his arm to view the happy couple, she squeezed his arm and whispered, “You are a good, just, and honourable man, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

“I simply do what I am able,” he said practically.

“You do what very few of your standing would think to do,” she pointed out.

“That does not make me better,” he said. “It only points out their failings.”

Elizabeth patted his arm, and did not argue under the circumstances. Perkins led his wife, still crying and smiling, past them with a grateful smile of his own, to show her to their room.

At the end of an extremely long day, during which a seemingly endless procession of folk filed through their doors, up stairs in their chambers Darcy asked Elizabeth: “I am sure it has been a very trying two days for you, my dear; would you rather I sleep in the other room?”

“You are a good and just man,” she said, smiling as she took his hand and drew him into her chamber.

“It would seem goodness is its own reward,” he observed to the world at large, closing the door behind them. Elizabeth was pleased to reinforce her opinion of her husband’s character at some length; and it might be deemed that, of all those under that roof, those with the greatest comforts enjoyed the least slumber.