Epilogue

The small Meryton chapel was bursting at the seams with guests gathered to witness the long-awaited wedding of Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy and Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

Every family living in the county seemed to have turned out for the occasion, but Darcy paid them no mind. All he cared about was his future with Elizabeth—their upcoming marriage, their move to London, and eventually, to Pemberley. He champed at the bit to show her all that he had to offer.

Thankfully, Bingley and Miss Bennet—no, Jane—garnered most of the attention, as did the Fitzwilliams and de Bourghs.

“I suppose we must thank Mr Collins for being correct in one thing—the consequence of both Lady Matlock and Lady Catherine has rendered the neighbourhood speechless with awe,” Elizabeth remarked with a smile.

Darcy could not help but laugh.

Someone clapped their hands, indicating the ceremony was to begin. Darcy approached the vicar, eager to finally make Elizabeth his wife.

“Dearly beloved...”

Darcy and Elizabeth met up with his cousins, their arrival marked by a flurry of embraces and greetings. Hopton shook Darcy’s hand with vigour, while Fitzwilliam kissed Elizabeth’s cheek. As they exchanged pleasantries and switched partners, Darcy pulled Fitzwilliam aside.

“I have something of yours,” he said.

Fitzwilliam smiled. “My letter to Anne?”

“I recognised your handwriting,” Darcy replied.

“Hand it over.”

Darcy did so. “How did Lady Catherine come to possess it?” he asked curiously.

“Mrs Jenkinson reads Anne’s letters.”

“You knew she would pass it to Lady Catherine?”

“Mother did,” Fitzwilliam replied with a small smile.

“How unsavoury for Anne.” Darcy shook his head.

Fitzwilliam leaned in. “I shall rectify all very soon, thanks to you,” he whispered before walking off with Hopton.

Lady Matlock approached with her hands held outward in a welcoming gesture. Elizabeth kissed her cheek.

“My dear Mrs Darcy, we must have you and the Gardiners at Matlock House.”

“Thank you, Lady Matlock. Mr Darcy and I shall pen our immediate acceptance.”

His aunt levelled a narrowed eye at Darcy before turning back to Elizabeth. “Yes, I believe you shall do well together. Quite well indeed.”

Darcy’s chest expanded. His face hurt from smiling—a very welcome ache. He kissed her hand. “Thank you, Lady Matlock.”

“Thank you, Darcy. You have done an extraordinary service for Richard.”

“As you have done for me.”

He squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. She blessed him with a glowing smile. “I wish him and Anne nothing but happiness and good health,” he added.

“We shall miss you and your sparkling bride at Lady Catherine’s house party next month. All will remember you well and frequently.”

Lord Matlock had his arm upon Fitzwilliam’s shoulder; Hopton chuckled at something his father had said. Mrs Bennet held court with Mr Bennet, the Gardiners, Bingley, and the new Mrs Bingley.

“‘God setteth the solitary in families’,” Elizabeth quoted.

“Miss Mary, my dear?” Darcy asked.

“Yes. Psalm 68:6 is a favourite of hers,” she replied. She squeezed his hand, curtseyed, and walked towards her mother, who was waving a handkerchief.

Darcy turned back to Lady Matlock, who touched his cheek. “Acta, non verba, Nephew.”

“Actions, not words,” he replied. He looked to Elizabeth.

Heaven.