“It is almost 1814. The year I finally make you my wife,” Darcy said.
Elizabeth made a happy chirping sound. “The year I finally make you my husband.”
They both turned so that they were facingeach other. Darcy placed a tender kiss on her lips, restraining his impulse to pull her close and demonstrate how much he was anticipating their wedding, but he admitted it would be easy to go too far, given the stillness and darkness of the room and how long and deeply he had loved her.
“And it is the year I become an aunt and you an uncle,” she said.
“One I can, at last, begin without feeling a dark, stormy cloud hanging over our heads.”
Elizabeth covered his cheek with her warm hand and gifted him a soothing kiss, her lips soft and tasting of the wine she had been drinking earlier. “Remember my love, whatever transpires with Georgiana, or anything else in your life, you will not have to confront it alone. I shall always be by your side to share the burden.”
Darcy embraced her. The desire to hold her, to feel her body pressed to his, was too great to overcome. She rested her head on his chest, and her arms wrapped around his waist. They stood like this for some time as he contemplated the import of her words. He was not alone any longer. They had been through rough weather these last years, and it had strained some of their relationships, none more than his and Fitzwilliam’s.
His connexion with Lady Catherine had fared worse, but she and her daughter did not matter. She had not apologised for going to Longbourn and confronting Elizabeth or for telling Georgiana of his intentions to marry her. Georgiana had told him more of that dreadful day, and it—along with the disgusting letter Lady Catherine had written to him upon learning of his engagement—had meant the end of his connexion to the de Bourghs.
“Where do you think we shall be next New Year’s Eve?” Elizabeth asked.
He kissed the top of her head and took a moment to contemplate. “At Pemberley, perhaps standing by a window as we are now and taking in a similar view. We shall speak of the year that has passed—the joys and, if we are fortunate, lack of sorrow—and our wishes for 1815. We might already be anticipating a child.”
“I hope we are,” she whispered.
“In the end, all that truly matters to me is that we shall be together.”
“Just as we were always meant to be.”
Elizabeth lifted her chin to gaze up at him, and he looked down into her beloved face and kissed her.
The beginning of the new year was both quiet and busy. Darcy and Georgiana continued to come to Larch Lane when the winter weather permitted, and Jane insisted Elizabeth go to Pemberley to stay with Georgiana while Darcy was in Manchester visiting an old friend of his father’s, whose health was failing. Thus, Elizabeth went to her soon-to-be home and spent an agreeable week with Georgiana, who was steadily growing stronger.
“I do not know what it is or how it has come about, but Idofeel so much lighter,” Georgiana said to her one afternoon. They were enjoying tea and shortbread after discussing how one of the principal rooms should be renovated. “I can hardly believe that a year ago even the thought of seeing you made me afraid. Now, I wish you and my brother were alreadymarried so that you would not have to return to Larch Lane. I am trying very hard not to apologise for my past behaviour because I know you will tell me I need not.”
“You are exactly right. I cannot express how glad I am to see you so well—or how delighted I am that the wedding will be soon.” Elizabeth smiled warmly at her, and both ladies laughed. “To be serious, as much as your brother and I long to be married, I am glad we waited as we have. All of us—not just you—are happier now.” She did not want to say outright that she was more confident in Georgiana’s acceptance, but that was a significant part of it. The young woman had made remarkable progress and was determined to maintain the daily habits that seemed to contribute to her well-being. Between that and being embraced by Darcy’s relations, Elizabeth would enter her new life as his wife free of the anxieties she would have had previously.
Mrs Annesley would remain with her after the wedding; it was Georgiana’s request, not because she did not trust or want Elizabeth to keep her company and support her but because Mrs Annesley provided a different sort of assistance as she fought to maintain her well-being. Since Mrs Annesley was a pleasant, intelligent woman, Elizabeth had no objections, and it went without saying that Darcy would agree to anything his sister said she required to be healthy.
On the seventeenth of March, Jane presented her husband with a daughter, who, despite her young age, showed every promise that she shared her mother’s beauty and both her mother and father’s affable characters. Mr and Mrs Bennet, Mary, and Kitty arrived at Larch Lane a fortnight later to meet Miss Frances Elizabeth Bingley. As Elizabeth had expected would be the case, her mother was beside herself with joy at seeing Larch Lane and meeting her granddaughter, and whenshe saw Pemberley, she was almost too shocked to speak, quietly whispering to Elizabeth that she could not believeherdaughter would live in such a place.
Then, a week after Easter—and two years from Darcy’s first proposal—Elizabeth married her Mr Darcy on what was undoubtedly the happiest day of her life.
When they were alone in the carriage after the ceremony, driving back to Larch Lane for the wedding breakfast, she said, “I have you now, and I have no intention of ever letting you go.”
Darcy chuckled and let out a relieved sigh. As he gathered her into his arms and lowered his mouth to hers for a kiss, he said, “I assure you, my darling, most beautiful Mrs Darcy—how I like calling you that!—I will never,neverbe parted from you again.”
EPILOGUE
October 1838
It is good to be home, Darcy thought as he strolled through Pemberley. He had no purpose in mind other than exercise. It was drizzling, which precluded outdoor activity. Besides, he should remain readily disposable to Elizabeth. She might require his opinion or simply his company, and despite all the years of their marriage, he hated the thought of disappointing her, even if it was a matter of her having to wait an hour or two to speak to him. He appreciated her efforts to include him in her current occupation—making final arrangements for the wedding of their daughter—but truth be told, he was happy to leave it to her and the other ladies.
It had been a busy year thus far, and they had returned to Derbyshire less than a week ago after having travelled south in the spring. Their first stop had been Meryton. Two of Elizabeth’s sisters currently lived there—Mary, now the wife of the town’s attorney, and Lydia. The latter had returned to herchildhood home to live with Mary after Wickham had been killed in a brawl just before their tenth wedding anniversary. To everyone’s surprise, the sisters had done well together, and presently their bond was almost as strong as that of Elizabeth and Jane. Fortunately, Lydia and Wickham had not been blessed with children, and she had told Elizabeth—who then told Darcy—that it was a relief to be free of a marriage that had become, in her words, ‘disagreeable’. Three years after becoming a widow, she had married one of Charlotte Collins’s younger brothers and appeared satisfied with her choice. Elizabeth had corresponded with Lydia for years, but it was only after Wickham’s demise that they met again.
After spending a week in Meryton, Elizabeth, Darcy, and their four children had gone to town. During their months there, they had visited the newly opened National Gallery and celebrated the coronation of Queen Victoria. Darcy had experienced riding one of the country’s great new railways; it had been equally exhilarating and terrifying. In many ways, it was a marvellous time to be alive. All around him, he saw progress—new discoveries that promised to change the lives of everyone in England. It was a shame to see some of the old ways fading into history—and he much preferred the ladies’ fashions of earlier times, although Elizabeth looked beautiful no matter what she wore.
Tomorrow, the first of their children would be married. Jane Anne, aged twenty, was the Darcys’ only daughter. ‘Jenny’ to her family, she was marrying Bingley and Jane’s son, Bennet, who had been born a year after his sister Frances. Since his new son was also his nephew, Darcy’s role was slightly confusing. His middle son, Thomas, would say it was old age nipping at his heels, but he had only recently turned four-and-fifty andfelt ‘old age’ was a few years away still.Though I might feel differently the day I become a grandfather.
“There you are, my love.”
The unexpected sound of another’s voice made Darcy jump in shock. He turned to see Elizabeth walking towards him, one hand already outstretched. He took it in his when she was near enough and pulled it to his mouth for a kiss. This morning, she wore a deep-blue gown that seemed to accentuate the richness of her hair—despite the odd grey strand—and the brightness of her eyes, in which he could still easily become lost.
