Page 15 of What to do with Fitzwilliam Darcy?

She threaded her fingers into the lovely hair she had admired both drunk and sober and discovered that it was every bit as soft as she had suspected.

When at last they separated, Elizabeth rested her forehead against his chest. "I knew it," she said.

"Knew what?"

"Your hair really is magnificent."

Darcy kissed the top of her head. "I am beginning to suspect you are marrying me under false pretences."

Before Elizabeth could reply, a tremendous cheer erupted from somewhere beyond the windows. They both froze. Darcy slowly lifted his head. Elizabeth turned in his arms and looked towards the terrace, where four familiar faces were pressed to the glass.

Jane was laughing so hard that she had one hand clapped over her mouth, though this did nothing to prevent a very distinct snort escaping. Beside her, Charles gave a piercing wolf whistle before throwing both hands triumphantly into the air. Georgiana was performing a small, delighted dance on the terrace, her skirts bouncing around her ankles as she clasped her hands to her chest. Colonel Fitzwilliam stood in the middle of them looking unbearably pleased with himself.

Elizabeth stared at them. "They have been watching us."

Darcy's expression hardened. "They are a bunch of meddling louts."

Another snort escaped Jane, which only made Charles lift her up and spin her about, delighted.

"Oh, this is wonderful!" Georgiana cried through the glass.

Colonel Fitzwilliam raised his voice sufficiently to make himself heard above the general merriment. "I am beginning to think I may be in the wrong profession. I could give half the matchmaking mamas in London a run for their money."

Darcy looked towards the ceiling as though appealing for divine assistance. "I am going to murder every one of them."

Elizabeth slipped her arms around his waist again, still laughing. "Not Georgiana or Jane."

He considered this. "Very well. Just the men. That is an acceptable compromise."

After several minutes the key finally turned in the library door and they stepped out hand in hand and into their new lives together.

Chapter Seven

At the wedding breakfast Richard gave a speech in which he took almost all of the credit for the new Mr and Mrs Darcy's happiness. Darcy could not bring himself to care. He turned instead to look at his wife, who looked beautiful in sage-green silk, the emerald pendant that had been his wedding gift to her resting at her throat and accentuating the delicate line of her collarbone. Her dark hair was swept up and adorned with pearl pins, but several curls had already escaped, and Darcy was already revelling in the knowledge that in just a few hours he would see it released in all of its full glory, able to run his hands through it as he held his wife close and showed her just how much he loved her.

The breakfast was being held at Netherfield but had been arranged by Mrs Bennet, who had clearly trained Mrs Bingley well in the art of preparing a good table, for the food was excellent and the wine flowed freely. Mrs Bennet herself had spent much of the morning in a state of near delirium, alternating between tears over the loss of her second daughter and triumphant reminders to anyone who would listen that said daughter was now mistress of Pemberley. Mr Bennet was content to sit back with an excellent glass of claret and watch his wife exhaust herself.

Richard was still speaking. Darcy had stopped listening several minutes ago, but he became aware that his cousin had reached the library portion of the story when laughter began to spread around the table.

"And so," Richard was saying, glass raised and expression insufferably pleased with itself, "having exhausted every more delicate method available to us, I was forced to rely upon sound military strategy. Secure the position, remove all avenues of retreat and wait until the opposing sides were willing to negotiate."

Jane laughed so hard that the familiar little snort escaped her, which only set Charles off beside her. Georgiana was attempting to hide her smile behind her reticule, although she was doing a very poor job of it. Darcy found that even he could not summon much indignation when Elizabeth's hand slipped beneath the table and found his.

"He will be unbearable for the rest of our lives," Darcy murmured, turning his hand so that their fingers could entwine.

"He was unbearable before. I do not think marriage has materially changed our position."

Darcy looked at her and felt that same almost painful rush of happiness that had accompanied him through the whole morning. Wife. She was his wife. Somehow, despite Hunsford and all those miserable months afterwards, they had arrived here. Elizabeth caught him staring and raised one eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nothing. I was merely thinking how very, very lucky I am, Mrs Darcy."

Her expression softened. "Not as lucky as I am, Mr Darcy."

"Will you two lovebirds stop gazing at one another and attend to my very fine speech?" Richard called from the other end of the table.

They both laughed and turned back towards him, though Elizabeth kept her hand tucked firmly in Darcy's.