“Most assuredly. Lydia confessed she is anxious to return to her school, and continue her studies, as does Kitty.”
“Better and better. What of Mary? Has she spoken to you about Mrs. Allen?”
“She has, and I assured her that I have, and always will, love her as the daughter of my heart.”
“You are a good woman, Franny.”
“There were times I was just as foolish as Lydia. Thank goodness you took us all in hand and set our family on the right track.”
“I suppose I should thank Mr. Darcy, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst for their untimely interruption, for if they had not intruded, I would never have heard what they thought about our family, which opened my eyes. I shudder to imagine what might have happened if our life unfolded in a different manner.”
“I would like to think Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth would still have married. He himself said he started to fall in love with her while in Hertfordshire last autumn.”
“True enough, but where would Jane have landed? Darcy and the sisters would still have interfered. Jane might never have travelled to London, and met up with Morgan. For all we know, she may have accepted a marriage proposal from our cousin Collins.”
“Heaven forbid! I would never have allowed that,” Lady Rumley declared with a huff.
“No, you would have pestered Lizzy instead.”
His wife grimaced. “In that, I think you are correct. I was so worried about the hedgerows.”
“And now, my dear, you have your very own hedgerows lining the walk up to Tetherwood. You shall never fear them again.”
“Dear, dear Mr. Bennet. You are absolutely correct. I shall never fear them again.”
“Come, wife, let us join our three beautiful daughters and celebrate Jane’s and Elizabeth’s nuptials with them.”
Epilogue
Darcy and Elizabeth settledquite nicely in Derbyshire. Upon sighting Pemberley, Elizabeth declared that she had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. Within the year, they welcomed a son, aptly named Bennet Alexander. He was quickly followed by a sister, Jane Frances, and a second son, Thomas Gerald. Another seven years would pass before they welcomed Madeline Anne, a cheerful little girl who brought a smile to everyone’s face upon meeting her – even Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Though, she would never admit it in front of that woman, the one who married her nephew.
Jane and Morgan’s marriage was nearly perfect, or near enough as Jane did not make a happy pregnant woman. Nine months of near-constant illness, with twins, as it turned out, had driven her to muttering curses under her breath most mornings over cold cups of weak tea.
Morgan, if truth be told, found it absolutely adorable, although he would never, ever admit such a thing in front of his wife, who was miserable and wholly uncomfortable. Fortunately, once delivered of a son and daughter, calm serenity once more claimed his Jane, and they rejoiced in every milestone littleJoshua and baby Frances conquered, be it first teeth, first steps, and first words. Elizabeth laid claim to Joshua’s first word, which came out as a garbled ‘whuzh’, which she interpreted as Wizzy, while Morgan personally thought his son meant, hush, something his mother often said when trying to lay him down for a nap. Alas, that battle was never resolved, because in no time, both twins were babbling merrily to each other, not a single word making sense to any adult who happened to listen in.
Kitty and Lydia completed their studies in a timely manner, moving to Bedfordshire with Lord and Lady Rumley where a competent companion was hired to accompany them to various functions and continue their education in comportment and manners. All too soon, they made their respective curtsies before the Queen, and entered London society, taking it by storm.
Kitty, or Catherine as she soon asked everyone to call her, first met her future husband while visiting the British Museum. Looking for inspiration to paint, she forgot to watch where she stepped and walked straight into the back of a gentleman, who turned and began to berate her, uncaring that there were other patrons who could see and hear him.
At first, Catherine stood mute, then, as the gentleman continued to rain down one insult after the other, she glared at him and said, “If you are done displaying the absolute worst set of manners I have ever witnessed in a grown man, allow me to apologise for bumping into you. If I had known you were such a namby-pamby, nearly felled over by a woman half your weight and size, I would have ensured a physician was nearby to handle the myriads of bruises you must be sporting on your poor, poor back.”
Startled by her spirited response, he abruptly stopped speaking and with a curt bow, left the museum. However, he could not forget the way her eyes had shot proverbial daggers at him, and the manner with how she had not backed down. Not one inch, and he was intrigued. For the first time in his life, the Duke of Hedstrom was intrigued. It took him nearly three months to have her accept his presence for simple morning calls, another eight weeks before she agreed he could call upon her, and nearly a full year before she relented and said yes to his fourth marriage proposal.
All that behind them, they were deliriously happy, and six children were the result of their loving marriage. The heir, and four more sons. Hedstrom was forever thankful he had a plethora of estates to spread amongst his sons, and was always a little regretful they did not produce a daughter, who he had always hoped would be just like her mother.
Lydia, the one who declared she would be the first to marry, was second to last. Watching her sister go toe to toe with the duke, resulted in her plans to find a partner who accepted her exactly as she was, and for the longest time, she was dearly disappointed in all that the Beau Monde had to offer. Thinking she would never find someone who made her want to shed the mantle of spinsterhood, she found herself sitting next to a certain gentleman at one of her uncle’s dinner parties.
He was very quiet, and did nothing to bring attention to himself. In fact, he seemed tongue tied and unable to hold a conversation with any young woman in attendance, not just Lydia. Feeling compassion for the poor man, she went out of her way to ensure his comfort and over time, five months to be exact, he slowly emerged from his self-imposed cocoon ofshyness. During this time, she learned that he was a successful barrister, having taken an occupation because he was the third son of an earl, and that he had a passion for poetry.
Not one to read poetry for herself, she found that she quite liked it when he read poetry to her, or scribbled lines on notes, which he attached to various nose-gays and flowers he would present when she least expected them. Of the two of them, she was the first to fall in love and did not quite know what to do about it. Always forthright and somewhat brash, she discovered that she did not want to be too forward and therefore waited for Nelson to fall in love with her. She did not have to wait long, as the one thing Lydia had done for her young man was to give him confidence when it came to his lady love. What seemed like forever to Lydia, but in truth was merely a few weeks, he went down on bended knee and asked for her hand in marriage. It is no surprise she said yes, and they exchanged vows as soon as the banns were read.
Over the next eight years, they had three sons and one daughter. Never let it be said that Lydia allowed her only daughter to behave in a manner which could lead to her ruin. She was a diligent and fair mother to both sons and daughter. Having learned the hard way, she expected much from her children and taught them to respect their home, their family and their reputations. Not necessarily in that order all the time, but the lessons took root and her children were their parent’s pride and joy.
And, finally, our Mary. Happy in Meryton, Mary Bennet had no desire to wed and was quite content in looking after the tenants of Longbourn, as long as her father remained the owner of the estate. Mr. Turner appreciated her hard work and oftenpraised her for such unwavering diligence. She merely smiled and continued on in her quiet way.
Mr. Allen, reaching an age where he wished to retire, decided to bring on a curate. Mr. Campbell, a young man from Scotland, fascinated Mary with his soft brogue and exceedingly polite manners. When asked what brought him to England, he explained his maternal grandmother was from Essex, and as a young lad he had come to live with her when his parents died in a house fire.
Over time, their mutual interests in Scripture, and helping those who could not help themselves, ignited a deep respect and eventual love. Once Mr. Campbell knew that he would be offered the position of rector at Longbourn parish, he approached Lord Rumley and humbly asked for his daughter Mary’s hand in marriage. Never had an approval been given so warmly and with so much thanksgiving. Their Mary, the almost forgotten child, had found her own niche and would enjoy many decades of connubial bliss with Mr. Campbell, ultimately welcoming three daughters into the fold.
