Epilogue
John blinked his eyes upon discovering that the morning was full upon him, he had been so lost in thoughts and memories, and in his dreams. Some persistent sound brought him back to reality. There had been a knock at the door, "Yes Simmons, what is it?"
"Excuse me sir. I noticed you were getting a much earlier start than the custom, and wanted to see if you would take your breakfast a bit sooner as well?"
"No Simmons that won't be necessary, but I do require something. Bring me a bottle of claret, and a glass from the best set. Please."
"Very good, sir." Waking early to sit in the dark and attend to nothing, and now wine before breakfast! If Simmons thought these proceedings at all unusual, he wisely saved his raised brow until the door was closed.
The wine was brought, and poured, and remained untouched.
Barrow checked his watch, a quarter of ten, the wedding was soon to begin. And what a reasonable and just conclusion after so many months of suspense. John was glad for his small share. Bingley and Darcy had favored him with their friendship long ago, and he had finally helped to settle the score. From the events of the past several months, it appeared that his former friends had not changed for the worse as he had once feared. With a bow to fate, arrangements had been made to meet with them in the near future. Perhaps they might, in time, come to consider him as a friend once more. Living a life of self-imposed exile, there were few around him that he could regard as close acquaintances. He had almost reached the point of not caring one way or the other, but it would give him great joy to have these two as such again.
John reflected on the fact that he had successfully accomplished all he set out to do as a young boy. He had crafted a life for himself that was as far removed from his father's life as possible, all the more satisfying since he had never had to bend his knees to anyone. He made his living doing what he did best, what he truly enjoyed doing. And as everything was done in secrecy and under the strictest confidence, it appeared to the world at large that he had absolutely no profession at all, as well befits a young gentleman of self-sufficient means. Since there was never a shortage of vice and deceit, there was never a shortage of business. He was able to support himself very well, indeed.
Of one thing he felt most justly proud. He could list among his clients one of the three ladies on record ever to have been granted parliamentary divorce. His findings (and the Winslow family's healthy purse) had helped to secure the case. Though such public disclosure bought disgrace to her husband's entire family, it could not in conscience be avoided. His father's influence kept the man from prison, but could not protect him from censure. He was now branded a scoundrel and a wastrel, with a black-hearted, vicious soul. Yes indeed, John had been more than happy to be of service to Penelope Thorne the once, now former, wife of Edward Thorne. John Thomas Barrow had returned all favors.
He did have one thing in common with his father though, he had found himself a tradesman's daughter. She was intelligent, brave, honest, and dearer to John than life itself. Yes, John Thomas would have his share of happiness and, having waited so long to attain it, would brook no further postponement. Only a day or two ago, his beloved had declared with mock gravity that she now rather liked the sound of 'Arabella Barrow' and would no longer need to grow accustomed to it. That being the case, John had responded with equal gravity, his lady should have no material objection to a very short engagement. All wisdom and loveliness, Arabella could not help but agree. What was already abbreviated became shorter still, as yet another fortnight was duly removed. With special license obtained, this most recent change in date posed no difficulty at all. Attended by her parents, they would be wed in five days' time. Sir John Murdock would stand by Barrow's side.
These happy thoughts coincided with the clock striking ten. And this is the hour. Bingley, Darcy, I am with you in spirit. John raised his glass in silent tribute.
Finis
~~O~~
Final Author's Note: So, so many lovely reviews to the final chapter! Thank you so much!
When I first started planning this story over twenty years ago, John Thomas Barrow was intended to be sort of a poor man's Darcy, with his story playing parallel to the events in Pride and Prejudice. But somewhere along the line I fell in love with Mr. Barrow. To return the favor, he wrestled my story away from me and made it go in completely unexpected directions and tested my patience in the process. This story does require a great deal of patience to follow, so to anyone out there stubborn enough to still be here with me, I cannot thank you enough. Your feedback has made re-posting it here an enjoyable process.
So what's to become of John and Arabella? After all they've been put through, a very happy ending is in order, don't you think? How could it possibly be otherwise? Their love has a firm foundation, based not just on physical attraction, but on complementary temperaments, mutual respect and equality of mind. And they're the very best of friends! Thanks to Arabella, by nature a sociable person, John will of necessity interact more with society. And laughter will become a vital part of their life together. Coming from such divergent backgrounds, a well-developed sense of humor will prove to be a useful commodity for both of them. Especially since, at any time during the course of their intimate conversations, Arabella will likely be inclined to observe how much softer her husband's hands are than her own. John will probably rejoin with observations on the need for diligent hand protection, and advice on where the best gloves can be found.
And they will always be close. Observers will often note how protective they are of each other. John will stop at nothing to insure the safety of his wife, and Arabella will be quite the lioness in defense of her husband. Since neither one is adverse to the laborious task of creating children (both of them, in fact, being diligent workers in this regard) they will have several. John, always old for his years, will finally get to experience childhood, albeit vicariously. As for Arabella's helping John professionally from time to time, perhaps, but it would likely be without his knowledge. He would probably be far too protective to allow it, but perhaps Arabella would know better than to ask! She is, after all, a very clever woman and accustomed to being useful. Even the best of marriages has a sticking point. Perhaps this will be theirs.
When Sir John Murdock dies (Not any time soon, we hope!), he will leave to John Barrow an enormous fortune of well over one hundred fifty thousand pounds, a neat little estate in the country, and that perfectly respectable town house in London. Unknown to Barrow, Sir John's personal fortune of ninty thousand pounds had been augmented over the years by infusion of funds from The Duke of Charrington, who had just this goal in view. Lord Thorne did have a conscience, and the wisdom to know that his only worthwhile son would accept nothing from his own hand. Perhaps they will come to terms one day.
After gaining financial independence, will Barrow continue on as Mr. Blevins? I think so - for a while at least. He loves being active, and he loves what he does! And even after retiring to the life of a gentleman, I'm certain he can be lured out of inactivity from time to time, to come to the aid of a friend... or the service of the Crown. There are times when refusal is unthinkable.
And finally, what will be the outcome of the reunion between John and his former friends? I had started posting a sequel on another site many years ago that, upon recent perusal, left me feeling a little mortified! Unless I can find files from three computers ago, or paper notes, or get inspired by something resembling a plot, I won't be posting it as a separate story here. But in closing, I would like to share one scene that fortunately did hold up under scrutiny, a scene involving three young men in a parlor at Pemberley, trying their best to break the ice. Setting the stage, this takes place about two months after they've all been married. I think you might enjoy it. Or at least I hope you do! In any event, thanks again for reading!
Michele C Venable
Parlor Scene - 'By Trial and Error'
Chapter 3A
Sitting in various attitudes of complete, even ungainly repose, the three friends engaged in brandy enhanced contemplation. Though they were giving it their best, it would seem that seven years times three, twenty-one years total, might just require more than two full bottles of spirits and one day's worth of companionship to discuss and digest. They had all, by unspoken agreement, assigned topics of solemn hue to a gradual approach, limiting their discourse to general subjects. The current political scene, news from Town, and the occasional, neutral, Eton remembrance were hashed and re-hashed with a vengeance.
It was fortunate for all that Bingley recalled another area of common ground. Well over an hour ago they had followed his lead, and happily shifted their topic to the most recent, felicitous, change in their lives. Such a subject naturally demanded not only speech, but a great deal of personal reflection. And now these three pagans sat in mute fellowship, each one paying silent homage to his own goddess of choice. As though acknowledging their supplicants, the faintest strains of silvery laughter could be heard drifting down from Mount Olympus - or perhaps from right down the hall. After an appropriate period of veneration, one of the faithful dared venture to break the silence.
"What do you suppose they're talking about?" Bingley had somehow managed to remain balanced on the very edge of his chair, his solemn countenance in stark contrast to a somewhat flushed complexion. He had lifted his glass in fair measure.
"Don't get your hopes up Charles, they're not talking about us. They're not even thinking of us," this from Darcy.
"Oh, but I think they are," was John's reply. "The question is, in what light are they holding us?"
After giving it some thought, Darcy conceded with a smile. "Point well taken. I've heard an unaccountable amount of laughter coming from that general direction. I'm not at all certain that bodes well."
"You don't suppose they're..." Bingley's perch grew even more precarious as he leaned forward to speak.
"Do take care, Bingley! Sit back, I beg you," John admonished his friend. "And to answer your question, I suspect they're comparing notes and finding us equally diverting. To make matters worse, the three of us are all fairly well sloshed, you know. We're going to have to make a reappearance at some point in time, and I'm afraid our condition won't help to swing prevailing opinion in our favor."
"I am not sloshed, John, nowhere near it! Speak for yourself if you can't hold your liquor."
This was spoken with amiable conviction by Bingley, but rendered much less convincing when he chose that precise moment to lose his seat and fall with a crash to the floor. John, seated closest to him, was at his side in an instant, helping him to his feet. With his arm around Bingley's shoulders he gently maneuvered him back into his seat.
John knelt next to Bingley's chair, concern tinging his voice at the expression on Bingley's face, "Are you alright Charles?" A moment longer and he understood. One glance confirmed that they shared the same distant memory.
"It was Robert Winslow, wasn't it?"
"Yes it was." John nodded slowly, smiling at the remembrance. "You came to my defense."
"He pushed me down, and you picked me up again. On the way to our rooms we met Darcy for the first time. My nose was bleeding."
"Yes, copiously."
Barrow's smile grew ever more melancholy as he considered the direction his friend was taking. Bingley was silent for a moment longer before asking the inevitable.
"Why did you leave?"
"Bingley." Spoken as a warning, Darcy, who up till now had been silent, felt he must intervene.
"This is a question I've been asking for years Darcy! I will have my answer!"
"Give him time Charles!" But Darcy's second warning fell on deaf ears.
"You were my closest friend, yet you left without explanation. A note slipped under my door. A piece of paper that may as well have been blank, for all the comfort it brought!"
With alarm, John saw Bingley wipe his eyes with his sleeve. He would have preferred anything, even outright anger, to this. Seven years ago his decision had seemed sound, even disinterested. At the time he had allowed himself to believe that his absence would not be keenly felt by anyone. Now, sitting across from him was first hand proof of just how wrong he'd been, and how much pain his actions had caused. He would prolong it no longer. This was the time. John slowly rose to his feet..
"Bingley, I had to leave. I allowed myself no other choice."
"But you were vindicated! Edward Thorne was..."
"Edward Thorne was, and still is, an avaricious fool, destined to fertilize some poor plot of ground before his time. No my friend, Edward had very little to do with it - though I will admit that my actions were calculated to grieve someone closely connected to him."
The question was written on both their faces.
"Let me explain myself. I owe at least this much to you. To both of you." John paused for a moment, then a sound crossed his lips that might have been a laugh had it not been so bitter. "You know, my Bella... Arabella... is so wise. She has advised me on numerous occasions to season my words with care, as I so often find myself in the position of having to eat them. Well my friends, this is a particularly unsavory dish."
Considering the amount of liquid they'd all consumed John's throat felt unaccountably parched, and he spoke his next words with difficulty. "Several months ago I made a vow never to mention this name again, and up until now I never thought there would ever be a reason to break it." The moment he'd dreaded most had arrived. "Edward Thorne and I share someone in common. Lord Thorne, the Duke of Charrington, is also my father."
Shocked silence followed, during which time John struggled to continue. "By leaving Eton I childishly thought I might cause him pain, and spare you both the same should it ever have become public knowledge."
Looking at Barrow with empathetic eyes, Darcy could understand his obvious distress. Like John he too was by nature a private man, and well understood what this revelation must have cost him. Knowing that Barrow now needed some kind of response, some sort of reassurance from his companions, Darcy ventured forth to break the impasse.
Leaning back in his chair, he folded his arms, and said with unstudied nonchalance, "Well Bingley, that explains it. I always told you he had noble bearing."
John quickly glanced over to judge Darcy's meaning. Seeing only goodwill he exhaled in relief. A major hurdle was crossed, and the ice remained partly broken. The next half hour or so was spent in easy, if somewhat disjointed, conversation. Bingley was fueled by another full bumper of brandy.
"I will have to write that fellow Blevins again to thank him. The man is a wonder! Indeed, he must know everyone's whereabouts, for he was able to accomplish in no time what Darcy and I failed to do in a year. I would recommend his services to anyone - although I must say that his business acumen is sadly lacking. Twice I sought his assistance and twice there was no charge!"
Looking closely at Bingly and seeing that he spoke in ernest, John began to entertain the foolish hope that he might yet be able to keep his choice of profession to himself. However, another quick glance in Darcy's direction saw that man staring intently back at him, although nothing was said. Meanwhile, Bingley shouldered on.
"You don't know how relieved I am to finally see you. And you look well John. Very well indeed! You must give me the name of your tailor, or at the very least loan me your man to tie my cravat!"
Stifling a yawn, Bingley now turned towards Darcy to make a point. Since there weren't many occasions when his friend was so obviously in the wrong, not even extreme exhaustion - or significant inebriation - would steal this opportunity.
"Well Darcy, it seems your fears were unfounded after all." Turning to John he explained, "Our gloomy friend saw a drunken pauper in London a few months back. He thought it was you."
Chapter 3B
Unresolved issues aside, they would soon need to retire for the evening. A comparison of pocket watches to the sturdy timepiece on the mantle confirmed that it was well into the early hours of the morning. The ladies had indeed been patient with them, as it was now long past time for bed. Bingley, the one most in need of restoration, made the first move in that direction.
"I'm terribly drunk, John."
"I know it my friend."
"I'd better be off to bed, else you'll both need to carry me up. I'll see you fellows in the morning," Bingley rose shakily to his feet, waving off assistance. "Both of you, I hope," he glanced pointedly at John, "No more slipping off again?"
John smiled affectionately at Charles, and slowly shook his head, "I promise."
"Good. For I'll be deuced if I let another seven years separate us." Bingley made his way to the door and started to open it when he suddenly realized, "Dear lord! I suppose I must first go see the ladies and take my leave. I think my Jane will not be pleased." and with that Bingley quit the room.
The door had not yet fully closed behind Bingley when John felt the eyes on the back of his head. He slowly turned to face Darcy, and saw at once that his suspicions were confirmed. There was unfinished business between the two of them, and there would be no squirming out of it.
With his brow raised in inquiry, Darcy found himself smiling. Even as a small boy, Barrow would sometimes have the habit of pulling a hand through his hair to signal his disquiet. And now, for that very reason, the man before him seemed remarkably like that small boy. Darcy resisted the temptation to temper his approach accordingly.
"But it hasn't been seven years for us, has it John? Closer to six months, I believe. Come. Sit by me."
It was not a request.
With his brow deeply furrowed, John removed himself to a chair immediately adjacent to Darcy. Although generously cushioned, there was little comfort to be found in it. Barrow felt as though he sat before judge and jury combined. His unease was acute, and but little relieved by Darcy's smile.
"It was you in that hallway, wasn't it?"
Barrow nodded warily, "Yes."
"Without requiring an immediate explanation for your presence there, let me just tell you a little story." Darcy's smile grew wide, almost conspiratory, as he inched his chair closer. "Late last summer I had occasion to meet, several times, with an esteemed old friend of mine by the name of Wickham. You do remember George Wickham, do you not? My father's steward's son?"
Another cautious nod from John.
"Well, I don't suppose you would have any reason to know this, but I am now connected to him. He's married to my wife's youngest sister."
This was met with silence.
Though growing increasingly irritated with John's unflagging reticence, Darcy managed to check his desire to shake his companion soundly and continued on with his tale.
"Now as you probably remember, my brother-in-law is, in terms of externals, generally thought to possess a pleasing countenance, and my initial visit with him served to confirm, not only the presence of his more scheming, vicious tendencies, but also the veracity of that opinion. So I was understandably surprised on meeting with him the very next day to find that, overnight, his features had undergone a most remarkable rearrangement, with certain components occupying a much larger proportion of his facade than they were formerly in the habit of doing. Even more amazing was the fact that Wickham seemed determined to give me the credit for it, cursing me soundly for setting my 'damned foreign lackey' on him. I had no earthly idea to what he tended! But during the course of our conversation it became clear to me that he'd been prevented from wiggling out of... a particular arrangement we'd been making. Having no 'foreign lackey' of my own, accursed or otherwise, I've often had occasion to wonder at, or more importantly, to thank, whoever it was that supplied such a useful article."
John's relief was evident, though a combination of brandy, amusement and embarrassment made a muddle of his features. "His name is Bruno."
For the first time in their entire acquaintance, Barrow could see straight on to Darcy's molars. That man's head was thrown fully back as he roared with laughter. Finally, after quite some time had passed in this fashion, Darcy quieted himself, wiped his eyes and extended his hand.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Blevins."
~~O~~
The End - at least for now.
Michele C Venable