by Abbey North
“They shall be presented to the magistrate, of course.” Constable Smith seemed to think that was the end of the matter.
Lizzy frowned. “Assuming they are convicted, what will happen to Miss Flora?”
“It is hard to say,” said Mr. Kenton.
“Will she hang?” asked Lizzy, her hand clutching Fitzwilliam’s arm firmly enough that he felt the pressure with a little wince.
“It is possible, though perhaps she will have a sympathetic magistrate, and she will only receive life in prison instead.”
“Hanging might be kinder,” said Constable Smith, apparently unaware of how off-putting his brusque tone was.
Lizzy glared at him, saying, “How could life in prison be worse than death?”
The constable shrugged. “If you have not been to Newgate, I shall not enlighten you, Miss Bennet.”
Darcy cleared his throat, addressing the question to Mr. Kenton. “What will happen to Wickham?”
“We have him for certain on the thefts, and if Miss Darcy is willing to lay a complaint about the kidnapping, I feel confident we can ensure he is locked in Newgate as well, or perhaps deported to Australia. He is unlikely to hang for his crimes.”
Darcy felt a strange sense of relief and disappointment. He realized perhaps he cared more about Wickham than he had considered, for he was unable to completely dismiss that they had grown up together and had once been like brothers. He was glad Wickham wouldn’t hang, though perhaps he deserved to, but having him in Australia sounded ideal. “I shall campaign for his deportation.”
“I have no doubt you can influence the magistrate toward that direction, Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Kenton
“The lady told me she saw Wickham strewing about the hay and setting the fire as she was leaving the stables after stabbing Mr. Terrence,” said Constable Smith. “She volunteered the information when I placed her in the cell with him. You have him on that as well.”
Fitzwilliam allowed relief to sweep through him, certain Wickham would pay for his crimes and no longer bother the Darcy family.
Constable Smith moved to his desk, clearly retrieving something, and Mr. Kenton looked at Lizzy then. “I was hoping to have a chance to tell you Mr. Nobles has been remanded to Bedlam. He was declared irredeemably insane and shall likely die there.”
Lizzy sagged in relief against Fitzwilliam. He ensured he held her in a bracing fashion.
When it was clear their part in the situation was over, at least for now, Fitzwilliam held onto Lizzy’s arm and escorted her from the constable’s office. When they stepped out, he drew in a deep breath, appreciating the freedom he had. He had done nothing to risk it as Wickham and Miss Flora had, but he still appreciated it, nonetheless. Leading Lizzy to the carriage, they were soon on their way back to Pemberley.
12
After dismissing Mr. Nobles from her mind, realizing she didn’t want to waste even a second thinking about him, Lizzy couldn’t wait to return to Pemberley for their conversation. Boldly, she moved across the carriage to sit beside Fitzwilliam. “I have changed my mind.”
He frowned. “About what, Lizzy?”
“When I once decided I could never imagine marrying you, I realize now that was a foolhardy statement. Circumstances have changed, and I have seen enough of you that I am positive I have not always had a completely favorable or correct impression of you.”
He seemed startled by her words. “If you refer to what I think you are referring to, please allow me to state that nothing has changed on my side. If you do not wish me to bring it up again, I will not, but I must fervently and ardently declare my love for you.”
Lizzy had heard him say it before, but there was something different and special about it this time. It wasn’t surrounded by his insulting words and condemnation of her family. She had no doubt of his sincerity, and she felt like she knew Fitzwilliam and his heart well enough to admit the leanings of her own. “I love you as well, Fitzwilliam. If you wish to reiterate the question you posed in Hunsford, I can assure you it will have a different answer this time.”
He turned on the bench to face her, taking her hands in his. “Will you do me the honor of being my wife, Elizabeth Bennet?”
“I will.” It was a succinct statement, and Lizzy had planned to say more, but Fitzwilliam had other ideas. He lifted her onto his lap and kissed her soundly, until she could barely remember her own name. She clung to him as the miles between Lambton and Pemberley stretched, bringing them home.
As they rode down the drive of Pemberley, Fitzwilliam apparently managed some modicum of control, and Lizzy appreciated it, because she was incapable of doing so. When he pulled away, she was still clinging to him. They weren’t actively kissing, but she sat on his lap when the carriage door opened a moment later, revealing her delighted mother.
“Lizzy, you clever girl. You have ensnared Mr. Darcy.”
Lizzy cringed, hating the way her mother phased that, as though it had been some stratagem on her part.
Fitzwilliam surprised her by laughing, sounding indulgent. “She most assuredly did, Mrs. Bennet, but I would like to think I have ensnared her too. I assure you, I will speak with Mr. Bennet at the soonest opportunity.”
Fanny was beaming. “Such fabulous news. I will write to the man immediately and insist Thomas join us here.” Before she could run off to do so, she paused and took Lizzy’s hand. “Congratulations, my dear. We shall have your father here within days, and you shall be a properly betrothed woman.” Releasing her daughter’s hand, she bustled into Pemberley, crowing with delight about two of her daughters making sound matches.
“I guess she forgot Mary is betrothed too,” said Lizzy with a grin as Jane stepped forward. Her sister hugged her as soon as she was out of the carriage, and Lizzy embraced her just as enthusiastically. Fitzwilliam stepped down behind her, his arm around her waist.
“We should get married together,” said Jane.
“No,” said Fitzwilliam.
Lizzy turned to glare at him. “Why ever not?”
“Your sister and Bingley are planning a Christmas wedding. I cannot possibly wait that long to marry you. If I have my way, we would get a special license and wed in three days, but since we have to wait for Mr. Bennet to arrive so I can formally ask him his permission, I am willing to wait two weeks. Not a moment longer.”
Jane seemed to consider that for a moment, and then she nodded. “Very well. I am content to move up the wedding if Mr. Bingley is.” As she said that, she threaded her arm through Charles’s. “What do you think, darling? It would make me happy to marry at the same time as Lizzy.”
Bingley nodded enthusiastically. “It would make me happy not to have to wait all those extra months either, my love. I am content to marry in two weeks if we can make it happen.”
“I doubt there is little Mr. Darcy cannot make happen when he sets his mind to it,” said Lizzy as she took Fitzwilliam’s hand in hers.
“It is reassuring to have your confidence in me at an all-time high,” said Fitzwilliam. He seemed on the verge of laughing. “I confess, I still expect you to needle me in some fashion, or find a way to diminish me. That is the nature of our relationship.”
She shook her head. “At times, it has been the nature of our relationship, but you are my ally, not my adversary. I am determined we shall have a happy life full of harmonious marital accord. I do not think less of you for having an exceedingly vulnerable spot, and you have been a very good assistant for solving the mysteries that have crossed our path.”
He laughed even as he rolled his eyes. “There it is. Just as I expected.”
Lizzy beamed. “I would never want to live completely up to your expectations, Fitzwilliam, for life would be dreadfully dull.”
He smiled down at her, appearing benevolent. “I have a feeling life will be anything except dull with you, my dear.”
Epilogue
Darcy sat beside his bride two weeks later, while her sister was on Lizzy’s other side, and Charles sat
beside Jane. They shared the head of the table for the wedding breakfast, and the room was full of a mix of their friends and family. Fanny Bennet was seated at the other end of the table, but even from here, he could hear her telling Richard all about the wainscoting in the room, droning on with intricate detail.
He smiled indulgently, surprised to discover Fanny had a way of growing on him. She was overbearing and lacked many of the social graces, but he did not deny she loved her daughters fiercely, even if she didn’t seem to quite understand Lizzy all the time. There was a new weightlessness about her that suggested she had been dreadfully strained by concern for her future and her daughters’ future that was now to be alleviated by Lizzy and Jane making such smart matches.
His gaze turned to Thomas Bennet, who looked morose as he ate his eggs. The poor man had had a dreadful time parting with Lizzy, but Fitzwilliam had been insistent. Even when Mr. Bennet jokingly offered twice the dowry and both Kitty and Lydia instead of Elizabeth, he had to remain steadfast in his decision to marry Lizzy. His persistence and Lizzy’s clear determination, coupled with her obvious love for him, had persuaded Mr. Bennet to accept Darcy’s suit, and he had given his reluctant blessing.
Fitzwilliam didn’t take it personally, realizing Thomas was likely still adjusting to the shock of not having Lizzy close to him when he had expressed a clear preference for her as his favorite daughter. He would ensure they saw each other frequently, and indeed, it would be good exposure for him too, because he was certain Fanny had already laid claim to the bedchamber she was using as her permanent lodgings once Mr. Bennet died, and she came to live with them.
An idea that would have once filled him with dread was only now a minor prickle of unease, and it was quickly dismissed. Mrs. Bennet was a small price to pay to have Lizzy in his life.
She looked at him now, squeezing his hand. “You seem lost in thought, Fitzwilliam.”
He bent his head, keeping his voice deliberately low when he whispered, “I was simply thinking about what happens after our guests leave.”
Her eyes gleamed with interest, indicating she was equally enthused about the idea. “I do not suppose it would be polite if we dismissed ourselves early.” She sounded regretful.
Fitzwilliam teetered on the edge of encouraging the idea before reluctantly forcing himself to sigh and say, “Frightfully rude. We must endure, but soon, the afternoon will be ours.”
She leaned closer, placing her head on his shoulder. “The first afternoon of many for the rest of our lives.”
“I quite like the sound of that, Elizabeth Darcy.” He liked the sound of that too as he bent his head and kissed her, uncaring if anyone protested the lack of propriety in him passionately kissing his new wife while still at the breakfast table.
This is the fifth book in a five-part series that needs to be read in order, just like Jane Austen’s masterpiece.
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About the Author
Abbey is a diehard Jane Austen fan and has loved Fitzwilliam since the first time she “met” him at age thirteen upon borrowing the book from the school library. He is the ideal man, though Abbey’s husband is a close second. Abbey enjoys writing various steamy and sweet Jane Austen variations, but “Pride & Prejudice” (and Mr. Darcy) will always be her favorite.
