Epilogue

December 25, 1819

Netherfield Park, Hertfordshire

It was the first Christmas that the Lucas twins, now fourteen, had spent without their grandfather Sir William to dote upon them. It was, however, also the first year that they were to play a game favoured by their parents and all their aunts and uncles. The new steward of Netherfield and particular friend of the new tenant at Lucas Lodge had both insisted upon it. Monsieur Olivier and Sir John Drake had little argument in persuading nearly everyone to participate in a rambunctious game of Regents and Lunatics.

Elizabeth and Lydia were both too heavy with child to join the revelry, but they sat together by the fire on the only sofa that had not been appropriated for the game, while Lady Anne, the Earl and Countess, and the Russells all played cards at a table in the corner. With so large a group of people, they had been obliged to gather in the ballroom, which had been bedecked with greenery for the festive season.

Nearly all the furniture on the ground floor of the house had been commandeered and arranged in the customary four circuits, with a large dining table in the centre laden with punch and pastries, and cider safe for the younger children. Monsieur Olivier gave a convincing performance of being a novice at the game, which progressed so raucously that Elizabeth and Lydia were often obliged to raise their voices to converse.

“It occurred to me,” Lydia observed rather loudly, “We are all grouped exactly as we were for our wedding – but with the happy addition of Sir John and Olly – er, Monsieur Olivier. We shall have to warn Little Lou off of Sir John, for he is as handsome as he was all those years ago at the assembly, and I have seen her making eyes at him.”

“No indeed, I am sure she is quite taken with Ned Gardiner! Little Lou has always been his greatest supporter,” Elizabeth replied. Though Louisa Darcy was now almost twenty years of age, the endearment of her youth had stuck, as had the fondness she had developed for Ned so many years ago, at that fateful house party.

“And I should say our family group has expanded quite a lot,” Elizabeth added. The Bennet sisters and Lady Webster had added twenty children to the family, and Henry and Chloe Russell had four of their own.

“Perhaps Little Lou and Ned may someday do the same,” Lydia mused. “I know we have another year at Rosings, but Richard and I have begun to think that perhaps we may rent Netherfield from you – Ben still has several years of education ahead of him, and when he has finished university, our girls will be grown, and we might go live in London.”

Elizabeth smiled. “We shall speak on it, you and I, and William and Richard – when the gentlemen are sober.”

“I might be the third Bennet sister to be mistress of Netherfield, how funny,” Lydia chortled.

Just then, Eliza Fitzwilliam, tall for her twelve years and as gregarious as her mother, ran over to them to tell them of a new rule in the game that had been named for her. “It is called the Queen Elizabeth Armada, and whenever I am on a Rookery, I must give a great speech to rally the troops, and then everyone sails to a new space in their circuit! And you can do it too, if you play with us, Aunt Lizzy, and cousin Bess, too, for we are all called Elizabeth!”

Eliza was called back to the game and penalised for her swim in the Thames, and Lydia laughed indulgently at her oldest daughter. There had been many additions to the game over the years – the King Richard corollary, the Princes in the Tower, the William the Conqueror, and Queen Anne’s Revenge were among their favourite new rules.

Elizabeth reckoned against the back of the sofa, shortly until she was comfortable and sipping at her wine. For a few minutes she and her sisters sat in comfortable silence, watching the chaos of the game, with forty people playing. Elizabeth was on the verge of suggesting they make bets on who would win – her money would be on her intrepid little Sophia – when something occurred to her. “You referred to Olly by name.”

“Jane slipped up last night at dinner,” Lydia said with a smirk. “I had hoped you might confess it to me.”

Elizabeth finished her wine and allowed Lydia to wait in a moment of suspense before she spilled the whole truth to her sister. Lydia listened with rapt attention, tearing up by the conclusion of the tale. “It is all so terribly romantic,” she sighed. “But is it not strange for you and William?”

Elizabeth gazed across the room, where Olly leapt onto a Rookery occupied by Bennet Lucas-Darcy and shouted, “French Invasion,” before engaging his son – who thankfully resembled his mother – in a fake sword fight using serving tongs from the trays of pastries. He allowed the boy to vanquish him and hurled himself backward onto a chaise with a string of French oaths that Sophia echoed with relish.

“I suppose Mary and Kitty have figured it out, too?”

“They may have deduced it… by me telling them,” Lydia said sheepishly. “Kitty swears she suspected it all along!”

Elizabeth shook her head and smiled, taking Lydia’s hand in hers. “Perhaps it ought to seem strange, but I shall give them every assurance that it is not. I am a sentimental creature in my current condition, but I heartily believe everything turned out just as it should.”