She laughed again, softer this time, and rested her forehead against his. "That is fortunate."
"Why?"
"Because I have every intention of occupying a great deal of your time."
He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes searching hers with all the affection that words could never quite express. "I cannot think of anything I should like better."
For a heartbeat neither spoke. The future, which had seemed so uncertain only weeks before, now stretched before them. There would be journeys made together, mornings shared without farewell, evenings before the fire, children God willing, and all the thousand ordinary happinesses that had once seemed beyond imagining.
Elizabeth touched his cheek. "You know," she said softly, "I once informed you that you were the most vexing man in the world."
"I remember it rather well."
"I was quite right."
He smiled. "You still think so?"
"Without the slightest doubt." Her eyes danced with familiar mischief. "Only now I find I would be exceedingly disappointed if you were any other sort of man."
Darcy laughed, then stole one last lingering kiss. "Then I shall endeavour," he said, offering her his arm, "to remain just vexing enough."
"I think," she replied as she slipped her hand through it, "you manage it perfectly."
Together they turned back towards the house, where the sounds of laughter drifted across the gardens. Elizabeth looked up at her husband and smiled. She had, after all, married the most vexing—and most wonderful—man in the world.
Epilogue
Pemberley had become considerably noisier than its master had ever intended. Not that anybody believed his occasional complaints. Mrs Darcy said with a raised brow that a gentleman who permitted four children to use the Long Gallery as a racecourse had very little right to protest afterwards about the consequences. Colonel Fitzwilliam maintained that Darcy secretly enjoyed every moment of it, whilst Mrs Reynolds, who had known her master since he was a solemn little boy, agreed with them both.
On a warm afternoon in late summer the house was fuller than it had been for many years.
The annual summer gathering had become something of a tradition. Jane and Bingley had arrived from Netherfield with their growing family several days before. Colonel Fitzwilliam, now accompanied by a cheerful wife and two energetic sons, had already been in residence for a week. Mr and Mrs Gardiner occupied their customary rooms, whilst Mr Bennet had escaped to the library within half an hour of his arrival, announcing that he intended to emerge only when somebody came to fetch him for dinner. Mrs Bennet had declared the house perfection itselfbefore advising Elizabeth on a change of wallpaper in the blue parlour.
Outside, the gardens belonged entirely to the children. What had begun years before as a game played by three lively Gardiners had somehow become a family tradition. George and Lucy, now old enough to organise rather than merely participate, directed operations with all the confidence of experienced campaigners. Their younger brother, together with Jane's children, Darcy's four and Colonel Fitzwilliam's two sons, followed with varying degrees of obedience. Every few minutes an alliance was formed, abandoned or betrayed.
The pirate ship, first imagined beneath a card table in the Gardiners' drawing room on Gracechurch Street, had long since acquired a rather more permanent form. A few summers earlier Darcy had commissioned the estate carpenter to build one at the edge of the south lawn. It possessed a proper deck, a ship's wheel, a mast from which a black flag frequently flew and enough room for a dozen determined pirates to defend it against all comers. Elizabeth had laughed until she cried when she first discovered it, whilst Darcy maintained that it had been built entirely for educational purposes.
It was occupied now by an energetic assortment of captains, mutineers and unwilling prisoners. Darcy's eldest daughter had announced herself a princess shortly after luncheon but hadalready deserted to the pirates upon discovering they enjoyed considerably greater freedom. George declared the decision dishonourable conduct. Lucy, now almost a young lady herself, said that pirates had always been more entertaining than princesses.
Edward had long since reached an age at which he considered himself above pirate games. He nevertheless found himself drawn into them with regularity, sitting beside Mr Gardiner on the terrace and quietly carving another wooden sword whenever one snapped in battle. Every few minutes one of the younger children ran to consult him upon an important point of pirate law, which he settled with gravity before returning to his work. Nobody questioned his decisions, though whether this was due to his wisdom or the ready supply of replacement swords was difficult to determine.
Colonel Fitzwilliam watched these proceedings with theatrical despair. "I am surrounded by mutiny."
"You encourage it," Elizabeth observed.
"I deny everything."
"You taught them to be pirates."
"I taught them strategy."
"You supplied wooden swords."
"They were essential."
"And eye patches."
He considered this.
