Page 31 of It Taught Me to Hope

U nable to understand her friend’s recalcitrance, Elizabeth regarded Charlotte, uncertain what to make of her. Charlotte returned her look with what could only be called unconcern, though her expression was not devoid of amusement. What had provoked such diversion Elizabeth could not say, but Elizabeth had to confess to more than a little perturbation.

“I cannot understand you, Charlotte. Is Mr. Earnshaw not a good man?”

“An excellent man,” said Charlotte, appearing unconcerned. “That is not the issue, Lizzy.”

“Then what is the issue?”

The way Charlotte smiled at her set Elizabeth’s teeth to grinding. “Though I agree Mr. Earnshaw is not lacking, he does not interest me.”

Trying to understand, Elizabeth peered at her friend. “I was not aware that you had become a romantic, Charlotte.”

“After my first marriage, I now understand the... benefits of respecting one’s partner in life. If that makes me a romantic, I must confess to some astonishment.”

“As you know,” replied Elizabeth with no little wryness, “Respect was a large part of my refusal of Mr. Collins’s suit. While I would not speak ill of the dead, respect was something I could never feel for him, and love was impossible. I cannot suppose that respect is an issue, for Mr. Earnshaw is eminently respectable.”

“No, I dare say it is not.”

“Then what is the problem?”

Charlotte offered her a smile, but one tinged with warning. It seemed to say to Elizabeth that she had best allow the matter to drop, for Charlotte did not wish to speak of it.

“I already answered you, Lizzy. Please allow me the benefit of my preferences and judgment. I esteem Mr. Earnshaw, but I have no wish to accept his assurances.”

When Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply, her husband of six months interrupted. “My dear, I believe Charlotte has made her wishes known. It is time to allow this fancy of yours to end.”

Before she could even begin to feel offended, Charlotte reached out an arm and drew Elizabeth into an embrace. “I love you for your care and attention my friend, but you must allow me the pleasure of my choice. Once, you accepted my decision to accept another man, one you refused and could not respect. Please trust my judgment again. If you consider it, your behavior since I came to Pemberley has mirrored your late mother’s to a large degree.”

This last comment deflated Elizabeth, though she mustered a wan smile. “I hope you are not suggesting that I am like my mother.”

After exchanging a glance, William and Charlotte both burst into laughter together; supposing it was, indeed, more than a little diverting, Elizabeth joined in with their mirth, though her laughter contained a rueful quality.

“I suppose that was not exactly proper.”

“No,” said Charlotte. “Yet to anyone who knew your mother, it is a near likeness, indeed. Her heart was in the correct place, but your mother was no less than a force of nature.”

“And she had no compunction at all about pointing her daughters to any man presenting themselves regardless of how well they suited.”

“Even from my limited experience with Mrs. Bennet,” said William, “I too understand her character.”

Elizabeth fixed a plaintive look on her friend. “You will not tell me why you rejected Mr. Earnshaw?”

“Need there be a reason, other than my disinclination for him? As I recall that very reason informed your decision for refusing no less than three such men.”

“I suppose you must be correct,” muttered Elizabeth. She sighed and offered her friend an apologetic smile. “Very well, Charlotte. I shall not speak on the subject again.

Even if Elizabeth agreed to close the subject of Mr. Earnshaw, she still found herself vexed with her friend. It had seemed like such a perfect solution. Mr. Earnshaw, the rector of Kympton parish, was a single man in need of a wife. Charlotte was a widow with a young daughter, who lived with the worry of becoming a burden on her brother. Within days of arriving in Derbyshire with her new husband, Elizabeth had determined the situation was perfect for her friend. Unlike Charlotte’s late husband, Mr. Earnshaw was an excellent man, was not unpleasant to look upon, and had an engaging disposition. All that remained had been to invite Charlotte to Pemberley, introduce them, and wait for nature to take its course.

As they say, however, even the best-laid plans have no guarantee of finding success. Charlotte accepted the invitation with alacrity both for herself and her daughter, and when Elizabeth introduced them, she thought it was a promising beginning. It was beyond Elizabeth’s comprehension to understand how Charlotte, a woman who had once married a most objectionable man for no other reason than his comfortable situation, could reject a man his superior in every meaningful category. Yet, to her surprise, Charlotte had shown no interest in Mr. Earnshaw out of the common way, and when Elizabeth had taken a more direct hand, her friend had pushed back leading to their conversation that day.

Though her husband had accused her several times, Elizabeth was no matchmaker. Was it wrong to wish for the happiness of a beloved friend? Elizabeth did not think so. But Charlotte had resisted every attempt to forward an acquaintance between them, and Elizabeth could not understand her friend. Charlotte’s concerns for her future should have resulted in her acceptance of whatever Mr. Earnshaw offered without hesitation; Elizabeth based this opinion on no less evidence than Charlotte’s past with Mr. Collins.

“It is well that you agreed to step back, Elizabeth,” said her husband later that day when they were alone. “While your friendship with Mrs. Collins is deep and abiding, I cannot but suppose you were on the edge of making her quite cross with you.”

“It is just that I do not understand why she is being so pigheaded.”

Not wishing her husband to think her conceited, Elizabeth explained her actions and told him something about Charlotte’s past and her reasons for accepting Mr. Collins. William understood much of this, if for no other reason than their quick marriage, but she had never told him the full account before. Proving his excellent disposition, William listened with his usual gravity, allowing Elizabeth to state her case without interruption. When she finished, he proved his intelligence, pointing out a fact that she had not considered.

“I understand your position, Elizabeth. Mrs. Collins also understands you, which is why I must suppose she waited this long before disabusing you of your notion. However, I think you neglected to consider the changes experience has wrought upon your friend. Do you not suppose her marriage with Mr. Collins taught her that a comfortable situation does not always trump affection and temper?”

Embarrassed, Elizabeth could only shake her head. “No, I had never considered it.”

“In my opinion, had Mrs. Collins met Mr. Earnshaw before she married Mr. Collins, she would have been happy in the union. She is no longer that young woman.”

“Just as I was no longer the same young woman when you returned to Hertfordshire.”

“For which I will be forever grateful,” said Mr. Darcy, pulling her in for a sweet kiss.

“Then I shall allow her to follow her path.”

“That is for the best.”

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T HE FRUSTRATION ELIZABETH had experienced with Charlotte and Mr. Earnshaw had been the only blight in her life as Mr. Darcy’s wife and the mistress of Pemberley. That, of course, was a little whimsical, for no matter how pleasing a situation could be, there were always parts of the human experience that caused vexation and grief. Notwithstanding that, Elizabeth had never been happier than she had been at Pemberley, starting a new life with William. If her mother could see her now, Elizabeth could imagine her gratification at the success of one of her daughters marrying such a wealthy man, but astonished that man was Mr. Darcy.

Pemberley was everything she had ever heard, whether from Miss Bingley’s calculated praise or William and Georgiana’s more loving descriptions of their home. Even after six months had passed, Elizabeth found it a constant source of wonder that she lived in such a place as this. Building on every form of happiness, her dear relations, including her sisters and their families, and her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, were to descend upon Pemberley for the Christmas season. As the time was growing near Elizabeth could feel her excitement increasing apace, and along with it her eagerness to reunite with them all.

Not long after her engagement and her subsequent marriage to William, Georgiana’s beau, Mr. Talbot, had returned from the West Indies, and they were married in a lovely ceremony in Kympton’s church. Mr. Talbot soon became a favorite of Elizabeth’s, for he showed a character that was in essentials much like Elizabeth’s own as he was quick with the jest and laughed at every opportunity. The Talbots lived in Leicestershire and were also to join the extended Bennet clan with the Darcys at Pemberley for Christmas.

Clara anticipated the arrival of Kitty’s eldest child, though she had become as thick as thieves with Charlotte’s daughter Jenny, her youthful exuberance at the forthcoming reunion difficult to curb. Having lived now for a sixmonth at Pemberley, Clara was not recognizable as the reticent child who had arrived at Longbourn that unexpected spring day. In time, and with the love of William and Elizabeth, it had not taken long for her natural character to show through the reticence she had built as a protection against an indifferent mother and the poor circumstances she had endured as a young child. It was apparent to Elizabeth that Clara’s character resembled Lydia’s and that she would need to take care to teach the child restraint, a necessity if she was to avoid another experience like her rash youngest sister.

Of Lydia, there was no word. William had made the offer another time or two to engage an investigator to find details about the Bennet sisters’ youngest member. Elizabeth, however, had refused, her opinion that it was best to leave Lydia in the past was confirmed when she raised the point with her sisters. Even Kitty had not protested; though it was clear she wished to see her sister again, she recognized the benefits of Lydia’s absence from their lives. Clara never spoke of her mother, proving to Elizabeth’s mind that Lydia had never attempted a relationship with her child—in time, Elizabeth knew that any memory she still possessed of her mother would fade away, which was likely for the best. While Clara still referred to Elizabeth and William as Aunt Lizzy and Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth hoped that someday she would be comfortable enough with them to refer to them as Mama and Papa. Clara would have every advantage as the granddaughter of a gentleman, and William had already settled a fortune on her.

After leaving Longbourn, Elizabeth had thought of passing the estate to Jane as the only unmarried sister without a situation of her own. The resolution of Jane’s situation with Mr. Bingley, however, had not departed from Elizabeth’s mind, and William had spoken on the subject more than once. Any thought of a union with Mr. Fitzwilliam did not come to fruition, for while they were friendly, Jane had told her more than once that she liked him but felt no particular attraction to him. With this in mind, Elizabeth had invited Jane to Pemberley the moment her deep mourning for her late husband ended. Jane had come without protest and had settled into the estate, her amusement for her sister’s schemes unhidden. Though Mr. Bingley had not come to Pemberley after Elizabeth entered the estate as its mistress, she knew her husband had exchanged letters with him and had ridden to his estate one morning. What none of them had expected, not even William, who had known something of Mr. Bingley’s mind and had refused to tell Elizabeth to her vexation, Mr. Bingley had arrived at Pemberley within days of Jane’s coming. The ensuing events had shocked them all.

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“L IZZY,” JANE HAD SAID that afternoon not long after Mr. Bingley’s arrival. “I need to speak to you on a matter of some delicacy.”

Upon Mr. Bingley’s appearance, the gentleman had offered a hurried and distracted greeting, his eyes, which had found Jane’s face the moment he entered the room, not leaving her for an instant. The question of whether he still harbored affection in his heart for Jane answered, the gentleman sat with them in conversation fidgeting for several moments before he appeared to lose patience and requested Jane join him in a walk in the back gardens. Though a little skeptical, since the season had advanced enough that it was chilly outside, it did not surprise Elizabeth when her sister accepted with alacrity and the two left the room with almost unseemly haste. Now Jane had returned, seeming as serene as ever, though with more than a trace of understated excitement.

“Of course, Jane. How can I be of help?”

“You can plan a wedding at once so that I may marry within a week,” was Jane’s astonishing reply. “Either that or Mr. Bingley and I shall make for Gretna Green at once. I am reliably informed from the man himself that it matters little which option you choose, for he declares he will have me for a wife without delay and has no intention of waiting any longer.”

Dumbfounded, Elizabeth stared at her sister, wondering if Jane was sporting with her. When her silence persisted, Jane, in a manner uncharacteristic, burst into nervous babbling.

“Do not look at me in such a way, Lizzy! I cannot bear it. I waited seven years for Mr. Bingley to tell me that he loves me, and now that he has done so, I find myself no more inclined to wait than my future husband. If you do not agree to plan a wedding at once, I swear that Mr. Bingley and I shall leave for the north by dinner time!”

The hilarity of the situation welled up within Elizabeth’s breast, such that she burst into laughter. It was the only response that made any sense to Elizabeth, and anyone who knew her must have expected that reaction as much as any other. Though Jane appeared offended, soon she too succumbed to the humor of the situation and joined Elizabeth in mirth. For several moments thereafter, anyone who entered the room would have thought the pair of them were fit for bedlam.

“What a farce this is!” cried Elizabeth. “I always knew Mr. Bingley was impatient and impulsive, but I never expected him to throw caution to the wind and propose the moment he had you alone.”

Jane’s responding smile was equal parts beatific and dry, a curious combination. “Nor could I, Lizzy, though I will own it did not take long for Mr. Bingley to convince me to fall in with his plans.”

“No, Jane, I cannot imagine it did. As you have come here in all this state, it appears you are a willing participant in this madness.”

“That, I believe I made clear from the moment I opened my mouth,” replied Jane, her tone as prim as Mary’s ever was. “Well, Elizabeth, what shall it be? Will you oblige me, or shall I plan for an immediate departure?”

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I T SHOULD NOT SURPRISE the discerning reader that Elizabeth’s response comprised an affectionate embrace and a promise to begin at once. No sister of hers would make for Gretna when there was a suitable church at Kympton over which her husband served as patron. When he learned of the situation, Mr. Earnshaw, the excellent man of God that he was, asked a few questions of the happy couple determined to ensure that their request followed the proprieties and their reasons for marrying abided by the principles of church law he was sworn to uphold. Upon hearing it, Mr. Earnshaw appeared more than a little bemused, but he did not hesitate to perform the ceremony so long as Mr. Bingley acquired the appropriate license.

Because of its hurried execution, no one in either the groom or bride’s family attended other than William and Elizabeth. While this was a regret for Jane—not that she appeared disappointed, given the wide smile she sported in the short celebration the two couples indulged in upon returning to Pemberley—Mr. Bingley informed them that it mattered little that he had not advised his sisters of his nuptials in time to allow them to attend.

“Hurst and Louisa would come, though I understand Louisa is with child again. As for Caroline...” The gentleman shook his head. “Not only did Caroline lie to me and ruin my happiness these past years, but she tried to connect me with every society woman with whom she had the slightest acquaintance until I told her with no possibility of misunderstanding that her friends disgusted me, and that I would never so much as glance at one of them across the room.

“My wages for listening to her about my dearest Jane—” Mr. Bingley turned a silly smile on Jane, that of a man newly married and besotted with his wife “—was seven years of regret and loneliness. I have little contact with Caroline any longer. I sent my sisters letters this morning announcing my wedding. Their future involvement in our lives will depend on their reaction to the news.”

To the surprise of no one, Mrs. Hurst offered her brother her heartfelt congratulations and the wish of seeing them at the first available moment. The former Miss Bingley’s reaction was not so... positive as that of her sister. In a letter, Jane informed Elizabeth that Mr. Bingley had replied to his younger sister’s letter, cutting off all communication between them until she humbled herself and apologized to his wife. To Elizabeth, that was the death of any contact between them, for she did not suppose Mrs. Powell could summon the humility such an apology and admission of guilt would require. William disagreed.

“Oh, I do not suppose you are incorrect about Mrs. Powell. What you do not consider is her husband’s position in society.”

Elizabeth regarded her husband, the mirth of the situation provoking the twitching of her lips. “Are you acquainted with Mr. Powell?”

“Only in the most basic sense. When Powell learns of the connection, remote though it is through Bingley, your sister, to you and then me, he will not hesitate to insist his wife heal the breach.”

“You are well enough acquainted with Mr. Powell to understand his likely response?”

William shook his head. “No, I will not claim so intimate an understanding of his character as you suggest. Yet, I have seen similar circumstances and their results too many times to doubt what will happen.”

The matter was a trifling one to Elizabeth, for she knew her husband would allow no more of a connection to the social climbing Mrs. Powell and her husband than he did to anyone else wishing to attach themselves to him by virtue of his position in society. Had she told her husband the history between herself and William, and Elizabeth was certain she had not, Mr. Powell might give the notion up as impossible. The theory remained unproven, though Jane might bring news when she arrived for Christmas.

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I T WAS, PERHAPS, UNSURPRISING that Lady Catherine had taken the news of Elizabeth’s marriage to William with little pleasure. Anyone who knew the woman understood there was no room in her character to allow her to confess when she was wrong, and in a matter so cherished as her wish for William and her daughter had been, it was doubtful she would repent of her behavior so long as she remained in this life. William had not seen fit to notify Elizabeth of what she said in her letters, which had been plentiful the first months of their marriage, but Elizabeth could well imagine them. The letters stopped in time, but this was because Mr. Fitzwilliam had returned to Kent and warned her ladyship that if she did not stop, he would order the servants to bring all her correspondence to him to approve before he allowed them to be posted. His account of the argument that ensued did not flatter Lady Catherine, but she desisted in the end.

Lady Catherine was to remain in Kent for Christmas, for her daughter had passed on, her family did not care for her brand of insolent meddling, and the lady was too proud and set in her ways to change. In previous years, according to William, she had spent Christmas with Mr. Fitzwilliam, but as he was to journey to Pemberley that year, he would not be available to endure her for the holiday. It was, therefore, no surprise when Mr. Fitzwilliam was the first to arrive in the days before Christmas, for Elizabeth did not suppose he could endure Lady Catherine’s harangues, even if she lived in the dower house at a distance from the manor at Rosings Park. While this might have been part of his thinking, Elizabeth was to discover that it was a minor consideration at best.

“Anthony!” exclaimed Elizabeth in welcome when the gentleman arrived at the estate. “How happy we are to welcome you for our celebration.”

“It seems the hospitality at my cousin’s estate has improved, Mrs. Darcy,” said he, though Elizabeth noted he was looking past her as he spoke. “It is agreeable to meet with the picture of loveliness rather than my cousin’s stern demeanor.”

“There is no need to flatter me,” laughed Elizabeth. “I am now naught but an old married woman.”

“You will never be nothing but an old married woman.”

“Mr. Fitzwilliam,” said Charlotte, curtseying as she offered her greeting.

“Mrs. Collins,” replied Anthony.

With a start, Elizabeth realized that he had fixed his attention on Charlotte throughout their exchange. A sense of wonder and familiarity stole over Elizabeth as she invited her guests to sit. Though Mr. Darcy’s cousin did not fidget and appeared to be in full control of his faculties, and Charlotte was as serene as Jane, there appeared to be a pregnant undercurrent between them, one that spoke to possibilities she had never considered. It was as if they were far better acquainted than Elizabeth knew, each speaking to the other though exchanging no audible words. Then, after they remained in that attitude for perhaps fifteen minutes, Anthony spoke, further filling Elizabeth with a sense that this had happened before.

“Mrs. Collins,” said Anthony, “as I am familiar with Pemberley, I know of a lovely alcove in the formal gardens behind the house. Though I do not suppose it is as appealing as it will be in the summer, it would please me if you would consent to walk in it with me for a time.”

“Of course, Mr. Fitzwilliam,” replied Charlotte without hesitation. “I would be happy to accompany you.”

Astonished, Elizabeth watched as they rose and departed, all without a backward glance. Elizabeth’s gaze followed them until they left the room, and then she turned to her husband, a comment on the tip of her tongue. When she saw William, however, it died on her tongue as his knowing expression told her with a start of his lack of surprise for that which she had just witnessed.

“You knew!” accused she.

“What did I know, my dear?” asked an unrepentant William.

Elizabeth glared at him, annoyed when it did nothing more than fan the flames of his amusement.

“To own the truth, I cannot comprehend it. There is something between Charlotte and your cousin, yet I cannot decide if it is an engagement or deep understanding they have not yet formalized.”

William chuckled and drew her in close, likely to prevent her from slapping his arm. “To the best of my knowledge, there is no formal agreement between them. After their display, I cannot imagine they will return to the house without one.”

“Why did you not tell me?”

“Do not be cross, Elizabeth. The truth is that I suspected only from what little Fitzwilliam said in his letters to me—this proof of my suspicions is welcome, but I knew nothing more than you did.”

“Then Charlotte refused Mr. Earnshaw’s overtures because of a prior understanding with your cousin!” Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide at the thought.

“Yes, I must suppose you are correct, though I will note again that I had nothing other than suspicion until they confirmed it with their behavior. I also suspect that Mrs. Collins might have told you of her coming engagement had you not pushed her toward Earnshaw with such eagerness.”

There was nothing Elizabeth could say to that, for she suspected her husband was correct, given her familiarity with Charlotte’s character.

“I knew nothing of it,” said Elizabeth, uncertain what else she could say. “When you and your cousin visited Hunsford, he was far more apt to speak to me than to Charlotte.”

“At that time, she was a married woman.” The note in William’s tone suggested he thought it a reasonable explanation; Elizabeth could not dispute it.

“Then they have courted these past months since we came to the north?”

“For the answer to that question, we must apply to them. I know nothing of my cousin’s movements, but it seems likely he has spent much time in Hertfordshire. When we departed, I offered him carte blanche at Breckonridge. Given what we have seen this morning, I must suppose he made liberal use of it.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “There is much I need to say to Charlotte, for she could have informed me before she came, and I would not have recommended Mr. Earnshaw. For that matter, neither Jane nor Mary mentioned it, though they could not have been unaware of his presence in the neighborhood.”

“Then it appears you will have much to discuss with them.”

Elizabeth supposed it was so, and spent the next several moments considering what she could do to exact vengeance on those who had kept her blind. Then a sudden thought struck her, and she could not help the chortle that escaped her lips.

“You appear to have recovered with remarkable speed.”

“I was just considering your aunt’s response. If she deplores my marriage to you, what do you think her response will be when she learns your cousin—who now holds the estate she once called her own—has married the widow of her former parson?”

William understood the humor, though his response was rueful. “Either Lady Catherine’s rampage will upset the peace of the country, or she will suffer a sudden attack of apoplexy.”

“Poor Lady Catherine,” said Elizabeth, lacking sympathy for the bitter old termagant.

“Poor, Lady Catherine, indeed.”

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A S THEY EXPECTED, CHARLOTTE and Mr. Fitzwilliam returned to the house and announced their excellent news, leading to Elizabeth planning a second wedding in less than a month. As with the Bingley wedding, the couple was indifferent to the attendance of any members of their family and eager to marry at once, which they did with even more haste than the Bingleys. When the rest of the family arrived at Pemberley, it was to the reality of two hasty weddings adding two more couples to their midst, and while surprise reigned, they offered their congratulations at once.

In the ensuing years, the families lived in peace and harmony, their happiness assured even in the face of trials, which when overcome were quickly forgotten. As expected, Lady Catherine had much to say when Charlotte returned to Rosings as its mistress, leading to the master of the estate banishing her from the house forever unless she offered a sincere apology. Anyone at all acquainted with Lady Catherine knew the lady would never offer it, leading to her complete estrangement from all her family. Lady Catherine lived out the remainder of her life in solitude, never bridging those chasms she had caused by her behavior.

As sincere apologies went, Mrs. Caroline Powell’s regrets which she offered within six months—William’s self-satisfaction for having predicted it rendered him insufferable for a fortnight—was not a sterling example of how to make amends. Though Mr. Bingley understood this about his sister, he opted to accept her effort, lacking though it was, and more particularly when Jane urged reconciliation. What benefit this had for the ambitious Powells shall be left to the readers’ imaginations, though the author will note that even though she offered an olive branch, Mrs. Powell could not endure even a few moments in Elizabeth’s company. It was unsurprising, she supposed, for the woman’s pride could not withstand the knowledge that Elizabeth, her most dangerous rival, had succeeded where she had failed, albeit many years after Mrs. Powell had quit the field herself.

With Jane’s marriage and move to the north with her new husband, Elizabeth offered Longbourn to Mary and her husband. When they protested, Elizabeth convinced them with the argument that there was no sense in them remaining at the parsonage while the manor house remained empty most of the year. Mr. Hardwick, never having expected to inherit an estate, accepted at length, and proved adept when he took on Longbourn’s management. With his acquisition of Longbourn, he became of greater consequence than even his father, for Longbourn was more than double the size of the farm his father owned. The elder Hardwick was grateful for his son’s prosperity, and while Elizabeth knew nothing of the man, she learned nothing that suggested envy or strife in the family, even when Mr. Hardwick became Mr. Bennet to carry on the Bennet name at Longbourn.

In time, children arrived, with Charlotte bearing two girls for her new husband, Jane two boys and a girl, while Elizabeth ensured Pemberley’s dynastic succession with two sons and two daughters born in the next several years. Besides her first three, Kitty birthed four more, and even Mary’s three more could not compare with Kitty’s boast of having the most children. The cousins all grew to adulthood together, their friendship rendering them the closest of families throughout their lives. In a roundabout way, Lady Catherine’s dreams for Rosings were realized when the Darcys’ second son wed Charlotte and Anthony’s eldest daughter and her husband’s heir, and a Darcy became the heir of the property. How Lady Catherine might have viewed such a thing was unknown because of her passing many years before the event, but they all knew that it would not have amused her in the slightest.

Clara grew in stature and comportment, full of high spirits like her mother, but tempered with Elizabeth’s influence, supported by her sisters. The girl was a blessing to the Darcy family, for she brought as much life and laughter to Pemberley as her adoptive mother. In time, as Elizabeth wished, Elizabeth and William became her parents in every way that mattered. Jenny and Clara came out in the same year, Jenny finding a man who could not live without her that same year. Clara did not long allow her friend to outdo her, marrying her gentleman less than six months after her friend. The two ladies remained the closest friends for the rest of their lives, a valued part of the growing family. Cassandra, Kitty’s daughter, was two years younger, but she too married a good man and forever remained close with the two elder girls she had grown up idolizing.

With her first husband’s family Jane did not retain any contact, but as William had friends of friends who were acquainted with him, they learned something of his future. The man proved to possess the same grasping character as his brother, marrying a woman with a moderate fortune some years after inheriting the estate. Like his brother, however, he fathered no children and died at a young age, leaving the entailed estate to a distant cousin. Though perhaps it was not in keeping with Christian generosity to feel as much, Elizabeth was satisfied that Mr. Edwards’s claims of Jane being barren were proven incorrect, for it appeared there was something amiss with the man and his brother while Jane had joy in her children with Mr. Bingley.

As for Mr. Mason, the third (fourth!) of Elizabeth’s unwanted proposals married a woman of society in the years after her rejection and settled in to raise his family at Netherfield. With the new Bennet masters of the estate he maintained cool relations, his resentment at being denied Longbourn clear in his behavior. Elizabeth saw him seldom and never interacted with him, and both were satisfied with this state of affairs.

In later years, Elizabeth was known to comment on the good fortune of her husband’s chance meeting with Jane in London. It was through that brief encounter he had chanced returning to Hertfordshire and set the happiness of so many into motion. William, of course, was happy to accept the credit for so much good, and Elizabeth did not hesitate to inform him of her pleasure for his courage.

“It is a credit to you that your affection remained unaltered by time my dear husband.”

“It is a credit to you that you were worthy of such affection, Elizabeth. Your allure was so powerful that I could no more resist your call than I could deny my very identity.”

“I am happy for it, for none of us would enjoy this end if you had not.”

The End