Elizabeth stepped forward. “You are certain?”
He smiled, and it was like the sun finding its way through storm-clouds. “Elizabeth Bennet,” he said, voice unshaking. “I have never been more certain of anything in my life.”
She exhaled, the tension bleeding from her shoulders. “Then collect your prize, Mr. Darcy.”
He did.
Epilogue
In Which a Scandal Is Preemptively Managed, a Scheme Thoroughly Unmasked, and Georgiana Darcy’s Dowry Survives by the Grace of Her Sister-in-Law’s Pen
March 1817
Elizabeth Darcy uncapped herinkwell with ceremonial flair. Across the desk sat her latest journal—lockable now, per recent household custom—and beside her, a cooling teacup that had already suffered three interruptions.
Her quill settled on the page.
Memo: If one’s husband’s grandmother begins a sentence with “Would it not be diverting if…”, remove all eligible bachelors and anything flammable from the room.
She giggled, admired the words, then moved down the page a bit.
Should Georgiana's fiancé ever question why our family never plays cards near open flames, I shall hand him the scorched silver letter-opener and let him deduce his own future.
A gentle knock at the door interrupted her triumph.
“Come in,” she called, slipping the journal half-shut.
Darcy stepped into the drawing room, a letter in hand and amusement leaking from the corners of his mouth. “I hear suspicious scratching. Another entry, I presume?”
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. “I will neither confirm nor deny. But fear not—I love you far more than the quill.”
He crossed to her, kissed the top of her head, and dropped the letter on the table. “Bingley. Your sister says the your mother has invited herself to Matlock this summer—much to your aunt Gardiner’s chagrin, I assure you—and Lady Chiswell is already laying wagers on the results.”
“I assume Mrs. Hartley is horrified.”
“I assume correctly. And Mrs. Gardiner has threatened to stage an ‘accidental’ tea spill the next time your mother says the words ‘eligible’ and ‘baronet’ in the same sentence.”
Elizabeth's fingers itched and she flipped open her journal with a grin. “I told you I learned from the best.”
Darcy glanced over her shoulder, trying to catch a line. “Indeed. What have we today? Am I mentioned?”
“Only in footnotes.”
He leaned closer. “Footnotes? Multiple?”
“Volume two is getting crowded.”
“May I read it?”
“No.”
He chuckled, brushing a curl back from her forehead. “I know where you sleep, you know.”
“Impossible,” she sighed airily. “You are usually snoring long before I am. Now, what is this? Have you come only to read my journal over my shoulder?”
“No, indeed. I have just come from the strangest meeting, my love.”
She pursed her lips and let his hand lace with hers where it came to rest on her shoulder. “Indeed? Was not the solicitor to come this morning to finish the details of Georgiana’s marriage settlement? What can possibly be strange about that, I wonder?”
