The world seemed to hold its breath, the sounds of the crowds fading, leaving only the melody of the violin around them.
Elizabeth gazed at the man before her—the proud, difficult, wonderful man who had once been her greatest adversary and was now her dearest love. She saw his hope, his strength, his fears, and the undeniable truth of his affection.
“Yes,” she said, her voice catching on a sob of pure joy. “Yes, Fitzwilliam. Yes, yes, yes—I will gladly be your wife.”
Darcy let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sigh of soul-deep relief. His hands trembled only slightly as he slid the ring onto her finger. It fit flawlessly, as though it had always belonged there.
His arms came around her, enveloping her in a warm embrace. Their lips met in a kiss that erased every misunderstanding, every harsh word, and every barrier that had ever stood between them. It was tender, fierce, and perfect—a promise sealed under the canopy of Vauxhall’s lanterns, with roses all around and music drifting through the night air.
When they finally drew apart, foreheads resting together, Elizabeth laughed, a little breathless. “You know,” she whispered, “if your cousins are watching from the bushes, they are never going to let us live this down.”
“Let them watch,” Darcy murmured, pressing another soft kiss to her temple. “I have never been happier and I want the world to know.”
“Huzzah!”
A loud, booming cheer shattered the romantic moment.
Elizabeth and Darcy sprang apart, turning their heads to the sound.
Bursting from behind a dense cluster of rose bushes came the Fitzwilliam and Gardiner delegation.
The viscount was clapping his hands together with deafening enthusiasm, cheering as though he were at a horse race. The colonel was whistling through his fingers. Mr Gardiner was beaming, his arm securely around his wife, who was wiping a tear from her cheek. Georgiana was bouncing on her toes, squealing with delight, while Anne clapped politely, an expression of supreme satisfaction on her pale face.
“We witnessed the whole thing!” Lord Keathley shouted, bounding down the path with Jane laughing beside him. “Flawless execution, Darcy! No stuttering, excellent posture! I give it full marks!”
“You were eavesdropping?” Darcy demanded, his face burning. “All of you?”
“Of course we were,” Anne stated reasonably, embracing Elizabeth. “You did not honestly believe we would miss the grand finale? I wagered Richard five pounds you would not weep, Fitzwilliam. Pay up, Colonel. His cheeks remained dry.”
“I was not going to weep,” Darcy grumbled, and wrapped an arm securely around Elizabeth’s waist, refusing to let her go.
“It was a near thing.” The colonel laughed, tossing a coin to Miss de Bourgh. “I saw his jaw tremble. He was very close.”
“I was not,” Darcy retorted, though the wide grin on his face ruined his austere defence.
“Oh, Lizzy,” Jane sighed, rushing to hug her sister tightly. “I am so happy for you. So, so happy.”
“Thank you, Jane,” Elizabeth whispered, hugging her back. She turned to survey the grinning crowd of intruders. “I suppose privacy is a foreign concept to this family?”
“We are a collective,” the viscount declared proudly. “Your business is our business. And speaking of business, I believe we were promised a dinner!”
The atmosphere shifted into a boisterous celebration. Darcy slipped his hand into Elizabeth’s as the group began the walk to the private supper boxes. He leaned down, pressing a quick, secretive kiss to her temple.
“I apologise for my relatives,” he murmured. “They are pests.”
“They are wonderful,” Elizabeth corrected, admiring the sparkling ring on her finger. “And I am going to enjoy being a part of them.”
The private supper box Darcy had secured was a masterpiece of indulgence. The table groaned under the weight of roasted fowl, delicate pastries, and the spun-sugar creation Robert had promised—a towering structure resembling a swan that tasted strongly of peppermint. Glasses of champagne were raised, toasts were made, and the laughter was abundant.
“I must confess, Darcy,” the colonel remarked, slicing into a piece of meat, “I am astonished by your talent for grand gestures. I never thought you had it in you. Bravo!”
“Thank you, Cousin,” Darcy replied, his thumb gently stroking the back of Elizabeth’s hand under the table. “I shall share advice when your time comes.”
Jane beamed from across the table. “You both appear so joyful. It is such a lovely sight to witness.”
The viscount leaned close to Jane, his voice dropping into a register of theatrical sorrow. “I am overjoyed for them, truly. Though it does remind me of my own tragic, solitary existence.”
Jane laughed and shook her head. “You are hardly solitary, Lord Keathley. You have half of London clamouring for your attention.”
