by Anna Harlow
Elizabeth felt happy tears running down her cheeks as she allowed him to take her hand, and slip the ring into place. It fit perfectly. Just like he did.
“I promised you when my leg was healed—a huge ceremony,” Darcy muttered between kisses on her lips and cheeks. “We shall begin the planning immediately.”
“What, another gown I do not need?” Elizabeth complained, though she was clearly teasing. “How many clothes will you foist on me?”
“I must insist, my love,” he told her. “For the tenants, the workers—and for me. A new bride for Pemberley.”
Epilogue
“Fate is a fickle mistress,” Darcy told his wife and three daughters. “It is to be hoped that when this child is born, we shall at last have an heir for Pemberley.”
“We shall know quite soon now, sir,” Elizabeth assured him. “My confinement is fast approaching. I do not know how it is so, but I greatly feel this child is different from the others. My shape is larger, and I have had such a difference in cravings, as to make me suspect it must be a boy I am carrying.”
“My dear girls, do not mistake my feelings, I love all of my daughters,” Darcy added. “Yet, when I look at the recent business with Longbourn, your grandmother’s mourning, and the house I had to buy for her, I cannot help but wish that you children will not suffer such an indignity. A man without an heir is a sorry being.”
“Don’t worry, Papa, we understand completely,” said Fanny, giving him a hug. “Grandmother Bennet said often enough how grateful she was, to know she would not have to be worried. And, if we end up with another sister, we will not be worried either. For, have I not already inherited Rosings? We should live there quite comfortably, if we had to.”
“Forgive me, my family, but I think I must return to my bed now,” Elizabeth announced. “Darcy, will you send for the doctor for me? I believe our child is about to be born.”
Darcy was just as nervous now as he’d ever been before, hoping that his wife and their child would soon get through their ordeal. It was natural for him to hope for a son, but his heart was also big enough for another girl. As the hours ticked by, he paced about nervously until the old, familiar ache cropped up in his ankle, forcing him to sit down.
Luckily, he need not have worried. Elizabeth lay sleeping soundly and, in the cradle, laid his son. He was quite pleased as he lifted him out to have a closer look.
The boy woke, staring up at his father with inquisitive eyes. They were the same as his mother’s. THE END
Thank you for reading!
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About the Author
Anna Harlow spent a great deal of her childhood falling in love with history. At first, she was madly in love with Little House on the Prairie, but as soon as she discovered the Regency era around the age of twelve, she was completely hooked.
She tried her hand at painting Regency scenes, but she did so poorly that she knew writing about the era would be her best outlet.
She now resides in a comfortable Montana cabin with her husband, three kids, and about ten cats, and dedicates the greater part of her day recreating Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice for a new generation of readers.
