Epilogue

Now to dispose of the fates of our characters.

Though this will, I am sure, disappoint some, Mr. Collins lived to an old and comfortable age, outliving his wife, who had herself lived to see all of her children, and some of her grandchildren, reach adulthood.

While Jane Collins was never happy with her marriage in the way that a loving connection between equals can make couples, she was content and satisfied. It was not in her character to bemoan that which could not happen, and if she on occasion smiled more at Mr. Bingley and had more glow than she ought when in the company of the friend of her brother-in-law, those thoughts remained inside her.

They did not lead to the sort of pointless discontent that could have made a misery of the tolerable life she had placed into, and she certainly never contemplated taking any actions that might have destroyed her life, damaged the prospects of her children and relations, and brought scandal, discredit, and disgrace to all.

In this matter, it is fortunate though that her circles were far smaller and more constrained than those of her sister Elizabeth. Despite Mrs. Collins’s beauty, she was never the object of the sustained attention of a dissipated man for whom the Holy duties of Jane’s husband made the whole more a matter of challenge than sacred disgust.

Mrs. Collins bore a decent, though not excessive, number of healthy children, before she gently, but firmly made it clear to Mr. Collins that this was a duty that she saw no reason to continue.

The woman was in fact content.

However, I must confess that she felt a little enduring envy in her heart.

She had been raised to see herself as the beautiful daughter, the one who was most likely to make an exceptional match. In the end she married a man who had precisely the same situation in life as her father, but without his favourable personal qualities. Yet her sister Elizabeth had successfully attracted one of the greatest men in the land.

Fortunately for her, Jane’s character was not one that permitted her to dwell on such thoughts or to make herself miserable over the question of “what if”. Especially as she always had ample tasks to bury herself busily in.

Mr. Wickham, who did not appear in person in our story, joined the militia, though in a different regiment from the one that had spent a season settled in Meryton. He found the easy entry and ample company appealing. Over the course of a year in the service he accumulated large debts of honour and trifled with the daughters of many tradesmen.

One such tradesman could thank Wickham for the presence of a bastard grandchild. Further, Wickham owed him a substantial sum of money. When negotiations over rectifying both of these matters did not go so well as might have been hoped, Wickham found himself unceremoniously buried in a shallow grave.

He died, his deepest aspiration unfulfilled, as he had never married a wealthy heiress.

Mr. Sykes also had an untimely death during the following year, when his legendary ability to handle his liquor was faced with a quantity of liquor greater than it could handle. He was greatly mourned by his mistress, to whom he had recently promised a substantial present which she never received, his hunting hounds, and his favourite cup companions who were obliged to find other gentlemen less free with their whisky to hang about.

Charlotte Lucas was frequently invited to stay at Pemberley by Elizabeth, as she knew that her friend was not satisfied by her situation at home. Further, though Elizabeth did not agree completely with Charlotte upon the matter of marriage, and what was to be expected in it, she did hope that Charlotte might have an opportunity to find a partner to enter holy matrimony within the wider circles that she could expose her friend to.

This hope eventually bore fruit, when Charlotte married a widower in Mr. Darcy’s neighbourhood who had earned during his first marriage a reputation for having more for his books and his garden than his family. Unlike the reputation which Mr. Sykes had of brutality and unkindness, this gave Charlotte no concern at all, and she happily managed Mr. Lyme’s children, both those she bore him, and those from his previous marriage, kept his table, and ensured that the servants were well regulated.

That they were never close, nor even, really, friends, was a matter that bothered neither member of this couple.

Emily’s delight at having Lizzy become a permanent member of her household cannot be overstated.

She did, perhaps, have difficulty respecting Papa’s need to frequently have time with Lizzy without her, but an advantage of a house with many servants was that there always was a person available to distract the girl whilst her parental figures busied themselves with each other.

She grew up referring to Elizabeth as Lizzy, as both Darcy and Elizabeth agreed that “Mama” or “mother” ought be reserved for Anne’s memory.

Within a year of her father’s remarriage, Emily’s position as the chief light of Darcy’s universe, and the centre of everyone’s life, was disturbed by the birth of another young girl. Fortunately, the efforts that Elizabeth and Darcy put into ensuring that Emily was not neglected kept her from experiencing that resentment sometimes felt by older siblings towards the creature that took so much attention from them.

Apart from occasional screaming matches, a prolonged war following the “theft” of a pink silk ribbon when Emily was nine, and the annual all-family snowball fight following the first really good snow of the year, Emily maintained an excellent and happy relationship with her sister.

There was no tension at all with the younger siblings who followed, since by the time they were born, Emily naturally considered herself to be enormously superior to them due to her greater age.

The birth of Elizabeth's third child, a healthy and boisterous boy, destroyed that hope which Lady Catherine still cherished in her heart of seeing Rosings and Pemberley united in one estate.

Darcy had never told Lady Catherine that he intended to leave Pemberley to another one of his daughters if Elizabeth never had a son. He found quite sensible his uncle’s view that it was not good for the country if great estates were held by persons who resided far away. Further he liked the idea of seeing as many of his children as possible well settled with their own excellent position, rather than concentrating as much wealth as possible in the hands of one .

Georgiana and Elizabeth became the best of friends, and after a course of years her youthful scandal was mostly forgotten by society. When she came to London for a season following her twenty-first birthday, she was accepted by London, and many amongst the best set were happy to invite her to their parties and balls.

Darcy and Elizabeth were general favourites in the fashionable world. Of course, Georgiana could not be the shining star of the season, a diamond of the first water. But this was no loss to her . With Georgiana’s always shy personality, she would not have liked to be called “the incomparable”.

She married a solid gentleman with a good estate, good sense, excellent breeding, and who understood her very well.

As for Lady Catherine, she eventually died unmourned by her closest relations, but the man who'd known her best, Mr. Collins, sobbed daily for two months.

Elizabeth and Darcy lived a long happy life together, always talking, talking and talking. They remained the best of friends through the whole of their lives. They had many children, and though Darcy was never easy when the time of Elizabeth’s confinements came, the always easy course of the birthing process with his wife never gave him any additional cause for anxiety.