Pride & Prejudice, ch. 61: Happy Now, Happy Hence, Happy Ever After

Credit to CPatten on DeviantArt.

Where do I begin? Because today, for the final chapter, to begin is essentially to end. To watch Lizzy and Darcy marry is to say goodbye to the characters that we love. Which is not to say that Lizzy wouldn’t be any less Lizzy or that Darcy wouldn’t still have the occasional Darcy-bot malfunction during married life. In fact, it’s safe to say that, between the two of them, in essentials they will be very much as they ever were.

Let’s take a look at everyone else first, though, in order to track how the union of Lizzy and Darcy changes others. In one category, we have several of the Bennets: Mr. Bennet often journeys to Derbyshire just to surprise his favorite daughter, hitherto unheard of for the crabby homebody; his wife appears to improve in temperament, as she no longer stresses over money and entailments; Kitty gets to visit Pemberley as well as Jane’s new digs, and consequently goes on a self-improvement journey; and Mary, left behind, eventually learns to come out from behind her book and socialize with the other life forms. It seems that only Lydia, estranged from her family, remains exactly who she was at age sixteen, with the added bonus of becoming that member of the family who’s always hitting someone up for money or a place to stay. The Wickhams, therefore, become the next set of Hursts as well as the new generations of the Bennets. I stand by my sincere hope that Wickham cannot reproduce—or else was killed in the ongoing war with France, which ended in 1815.

Speaking of unchanging, Wickham remains a waste of space. Even though he rightly suspects that Lizzy knows about his past transgressions, he still hedges his bet that Darcy will support him financially. In a roundabout way, Wickham is correct, as Lizzy sends the couple some money every so often (Lydia blissfully assumes that they’ll be able to afford a place that costs “three or four hundred a year” as long as Darcy doesn’t get in the way). The Wickhams are so self-serving that they even test the patience of the Bingleys. The Bingleys! Mr. Bennet also keeps Kitty away from Lydia’s influence (an intriguing premise for a sequel, hint-hint).

Caroline changes her behavior, though not her personality, to fit into the Pemberley circle. Just how she “[pays] off every arrear of civility to Elizabeth” is left to the reader’s imagination. David Shapard theorizes that Caroline attempts to even the score, as it were, “to avoid being in debt to Elizabeth and thus at a disadvantage.” The mere fact that Caroline chooses to be included demonstrates her desire for upward mobility (she lost out on Darcy, but has a chance of marrying well if she continues to associate with him; cf. Mrs. Bennet’s original plan for her daughters once Jane married Bingley). Say what you want about her—and I know I have—but Caroline knows how to adapt to the moment. 

Though she didn’t escape Caroline as a companion, Georgiana luckily gets a smarter sister in Lizzy. Watching the tongue-in-cheek sparring matches of her brother and sister-in-law, the observant little sis eventually “comprehend[s] that a woman may take liberties with her husband which a brother will not always allow in a sister more than ten years younger than himself.” Which, if you think about it, is probably the most beneficial lesson Georgie could learn; having suffered from low self-esteem (thanks to Wickham’s horrible behavior), one would imagine that she’d have gone her whole life without realizing that a wife should expect to be on equal footing with her husband. By describing Lizzy’s behavior as a set of “instructions,” it’s tempting to say that Lizzy is intentional in how she treats Darcy in front of Georgie. 

Then there’s Lady Catherine, Darcy’s other female relative, who has the exact opposite reaction to Lizzy. Once she “sends him language so very abusive, especially of Elizabeth,” Darcy cuts off all communication with her. I know this is meant to be read as Darcy’s stubbornness (a stubbornness that Lizzy eventually coaxes him out of), but I think there’s much more going on here. That Darcy feels less than loyal to his own aunt shouldn’t surprise anyone; perhaps now he also feels that she isn’t a woman worthy of being pleased, despite her status in his family circle. Lady C shows no respect toward Lizzy, whose position of “wife to Fitzwilliam Darcy” should ensure her a good deal of it; thus she demonstrates her narrow view of who, or what, does deserve respect. Very likely also, her incredibly rude behavior reminds Darcy of his own past mistakes and misjudgments. Of course Darcy doesn’t want to associate with this woman. With all that, the fact that Lizzy persuades him to “seek a reconciliation” illustrates not only her resolve and diplomacy, but her belief that people can change. Darcy did. Lady C could … if she really, really wants to.

Two people that don’t have to change, however? Those would be the Gardiners, the official cupids of Lizzy and Darcy’s love story. Ending on the Gracechurch Street couple may seem less than climactic, but it leaves the reader with the impression of ideal couplehood: as the most stable couple in P&P, their enduring friendship with Mr. and Mrs. Darcy assures us that they are matched in sense, security, and appreciation. And if the sparks of verbal sparring ever fade for the Darcys, there are few qualities better prized for a long-lasting union.

And this is where I part with the text. What a ride! I started this nearly two years ago (I am, in fact, just shy of two weeks). As I did for Mansfield Park, there will be at least one wrap-up before this project can come to a full stop. Thank you for keeping up with the Bennets along with me. As of right now, it’s my intention to relax before I start this whole process over with another Austen novel. Which one will it be?

That’s not a tease, by the way. I legitimately cannot come to a decision. Send help at 1234 Pemberley House, Derbyshire, England—