The arrival of the New Year brought a fresh flurry of snow to Derbyshire, but it also brought an entirely unexpected development to the Pemberley breakfast parlour. The festive gathering had been joined by Mr. Edward Thomas, a cousin of Squire Henderson and a newly appointed fellow of classical antiquities at Oxford. He was a quiet, thin young man with a remarkably thoughtful countenance and an intense interest in early ecclesiastical history.
Mrs Bennet, who had spent the previous evening loudly bemoaning that Mary would undoubtedly end her days as a solitary spinster at Longbourn, was currently frozen in a state of absolute, open-mouthed astonishment.
At the far end of the long mahogany table, entirely ignoring the plates of hot rolls and marmalade, Mary Bennet was engaged in a spirited, rapid-fire discussion with Mr. Thomas regarding the moral philosophy of the early Roman stoics.
“But you must concede, Mr. Thomas,” Mary argued, adjusting her spectacles with an air of immense consequence, “that Seneca’s view on the moderation of the passions is the only true defense against the volatile nature of modern society.”
“An excellent point, Miss Mary,” Mr. Thomas replied, his eyes shining with an absolute, unshielded admiration that no one had ever directed toward Mary in her entire life. “Yet, Cicero argues that true virtue must be active, not merely contemplative. One must apply the philosophy to the family, do you not think?”
Mary flushed a delicate, entirely unprecedented pink, looking down at her teacup with a sudden, lady-like grace that caused Mr Bennet to nearly drop his morning newspaper.
“Good heavens,” Mrs Bennet whispered loudly to Elizabeth, her voice trembling with a frantic, joyful energy. “Lizzy, my dear! Look at them! He has a living in Yorkshire worth four hundred a year, and his father is a baronet's brother! Mary, child, do offer Mr. Thomas another piece of the spiced ham! He looks remarkably thin, and scholars require a great deal of nourishment!”
Elizabeth caught Darcy’s eye from across the table, and the identical, suppressed smiles they shared were enough to warm the entire room. Darcy quietly refilled his father-in-law’s coffee cup, his dark eyes dancing with a quiet, enduring amusement.
“It seems, Darcy,” Mr Bennet remarked dryly, leaning closer to his host, “that your library has claimed another victim. I had thought Mary’s volumes of philosophy were a certain shield against the matrimonial epidemic, but it appears no Bennet is entirely safe within the borders of Pemberley.”
“I consider it an exceptionally fortunate development, sir,” Darcy replied softly, looking toward the hearth where little Anne was currently attempting to feed a piece of toast to her father’s large hound. “Mr. Thomas is a man of great sense and true honor. If Mary has found a mind that matches her own, she shall find a happiness that matches Jane’s or Elizabeth’s.”
Elizabeth stood up, walking over to join her sister and their guest. “Mr. Thomas,” she said, her lips curving into a bright, mischievous smile. “If you intend to debate Cicero this afternoon, I highly recommend a brisk walk through the oak woods. The air is remarkably clear today, and the exercise is an excellent foundation for intellectual compatibility.”
Mr. Thomas rose instantly, making a gallant, sweeping bow to Mary. “I should be most honored, Miss Mary, if the weather permits.”
“I should find it highly educational, Mr. Thomas,” Mary replied, closing her leather-bound volume with a definitive, remarkably gentle click.
As the small party moved toward the hall to fetch their heavy winter cloaks, Elizabeth stepped into Darcy’s arms, resting her head against his steady, warm shoulder. The chaotic matchmaking of Hertfordshire had officially claimed its final prize, but looking around the sunlit room, neither of them would have it any other way. In the quiet harmony of the morning, it was beautifully clear that every heart, no matter how rigid its defenses or how solitary its path, is entirely capable of finding its own companion when the frost of pride is replaced by the enduring warmth of a shared understanding.
