by P. O. Dixon
She waited—but not for long.
Mr. Darcy!
Elizabeth set off along the narrow thistle-covered path to meet him, daring herself to think what his coming there must mean. Had his aunt spoken to him? Had he spoken to Anne?
Eager anticipation guided her footsteps until they stood face to face. His night must have been as restless as hers had been judging by his attire: no cravat—his shirt tucked loosely in his trousers. What with the early hour, Elizabeth’s own clothing was hardly appropriate either. She wore a muslin nightgown under her coat.
“I apologise for my aunt’s deplorable conduct last evening, Miss Elizabeth.”
“You need not apologise, Mr. Darcy. Neither of us is accountable for our family’s behaviour.”
“I spoke with Anne.”
“Oh!”
He nodded. “Indeed. Our conversation has taught me to hope not all is in vain.
“Miss Elizabeth, you know my sentiments. I suspect I know yours. However, I can have no way of knowing with certainty. I really must ask—where do you and I go from here?”
Where indeed? Elizabeth contemplated her choices. Would that she could give him a sign that, at long last, her heart beckoned—it is time to say yes.
The hour was early still. Unkempt and unshaven, in all their time together, she had never seen him thus. If she traced her fingers along his dimpled chin, surely he would consider it a sign. How wonderful it must feel—the subtle hint of new beginnings.
If she stood on the tips of her toes and brushed a gentle kiss upon his lips—soft, moist, inviting—an intriguing prospect. It would be an unmistakable sign.
Brilliant hues of amber and gold lit up the eastern skies, the dawning of a new and glorious day—a moment she would cherish forever. Elizabeth took his hand in hers. She brushed a kiss across his knuckles.
“Ask me again.”
*
From abhorrence to approbation in a matter of minutes, best described Mrs. Bennet’s drastic change in sentiments towards Mr. Darcy when he emerged from Mr. Bennet’s library. He bore her family’s accolades with far more grace than Elizabeth’s mother managed to muster.
In time, Darcy returned to Netherfield Park to change his attire. After attending her own morning toilette, Elizabeth sat in her bedroom talking to Jane.
“Much has happened since we last spoke, my dearest Lizzy. You and Mr. Darcy—engaged to be married!”
“I can hardly believe it myself. Are you happy for me?”
“Indeed. Next to Charles and me, I suspect you and Mr. Darcy will be the happiest couple in all of England.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I dare not argue with you.”
“Pray, tell me everything. Start with the events of last evening, for you must not leave out a single thing. What transpired with Lady Catherine and Miss de Bourgh after the rest of us were summarily dismissed?”
“Oh, Jane, her ladyship was quite horrible. Because I am not fashioned to dwell upon unpleasantness for ever long, I choose to dismiss such matters in their entirety. I will say I had a rather satisfying, if you will, conversation with Anne once her mother quitted the house.”
“You mean to say Anne stayed behind after her mother departed. What was her purpose? More important, did you confide in her your true feelings towards Mr. Darcy?”
“It turns out I had no reason to—at least not in so many words. In arguing with Lady Catherine, it was quite evident to Anne what my true feelings were for Mr. Darcy.
“What is more, he had written to her earlier, just as he promised he would. He told her the truth. She had little choice but to accept the veracity of his words once she realised how conflicted I was over the situation.”
“So, how did the two of you part? Are you to remain friends after all of this, or are you to become enemies?”
“Enemies? No, Anne does not bear me any grudge. She, like you and Papa, encouraged me to follow my heart.”
The sisters hugged. “Oh, Lizzy, this is wonderful. Whilst my thoughts go out to Miss de Bourgh, I cannot imagine being happier than I am at this moment.”
Elizabeth relinquished their affectionate embrace. “This is a happy day indeed. Now, if you will excuse me, I am obliged to begin writing a few letters, for I must convey my glad tidings to friends and relatives alike.”
*
Darcy descended the carpeted stairs with more spring in his step than ever before. Bingley ceased his pacing back and forth and headed towards the front door. “Hurry, Darcy, or I shall leave for Longbourn without you. I am nearly an hour late. I should hate to learn Mrs. Bennet organised a search party to see what has become of me.”
Darcy accepted his hat from a footman and smiled knowingly. “On this day, she might be compelled to send out a search party for both of us, my friend.”
“Both of us? What are you saying?”
“I believe I am to be congratulated. Miss Elizabeth accepted my renewed proposal this morning. Her father has given us his blessing.”
“Well, allow me to be the first to congratulate you my friend. I am happy for you. I no longer wonder why your aunt, Lady Catherine, was in such haste to flee Netherfield. I am told she and Anne departed for Kent at the break of dawn.”
“I cannot say I am sorry to hear they have returned home. As much as I did not wish to disappoint either of them, I find I am happier today than I ever recall.”
“Indeed. I would posit there is but one person on the face of the earth who is happier than both of us.”
Darcy arched his brow. “Of whom do you speak?”
“Why, our future mother-in-law, of course. Just imagine having three daughters settled in such a brief span of time. What a consolation it must be to know one’s life work is nearly done.”
The past months of doubt and uncertainty, pain and persistence traipsed through Darcy’s mind. Everything he endured had been worth it, and because of it he was a better man—one worthy of pleasing the woman he loved. What a consolation indeed.
Epilogue
Happy indeed was the day Mrs. Bennet married off her two eldest daughters in a double ceremony. The wedding breakfast was splendid—worthy of royalty.
After an engagement period where she found herself regularly mortified by the behaviour of her Meryton family and friends, the arrival of the Gardiners—the relatives who did not embarrass her—was a balm to Elizabeth’s battered sensibilities. With the Gardiners, Darcy got along swimmingly, which should have come as no surprise as they had made each other’s acquaintances in London during the Lydia debacle.
Miss Georgiana Darcy had travelled to Hertfordshire for the wedding, accompanied by her companion, a Mrs. Annesley, along with Miss Caroline Bingley, and a few of Bingley’s other relatives. So delighted were Elizabeth and Georgiana to meet each other that their subsequent attachment was a certainty—the former being eager to please and the latter being eager to be pleased.
Miss Bingley was rather less overjoyed by her brother’s alliance. She was even more disturbed by Mr. Darcy’s choice of a wife. In a half-hearted attempt to express her acceptance that the closest she would ever come to being a relation of the Darcys was through her brother’s marriage to Mr. Darcy’s sister-in-law, Caroline embraced Jane with all the warmth of a long-lost friend. To the new Mrs. Darcy, Caroline endeavoured to pay off every arrear of civility lest she risk not being invited to Pemberley.
Elizabeth’s friend Charlotte Collins was not at all surprised by the match. Her one question—what took them so long? The same could not be said for Charlotte’s dear husband, Mr. Collins. His question—what on earth was his fair cousin thinking?
In the spirit of friendship, Elizabeth thought it was only fair she should be the one to tell Anne that Mr. Darcy had requested her hand in marriage and she had said yes.
Lady Catherine, upon hearing the news, declared she would never receive the couple—their marriage would be an abomination! Anne’s response had been quite the opposite of her mother’s. She even went so far as to admonish
her mother that she would be better served by letting go of her malice. Anne often reminded Mrs. Jenkinson that, in befriending Elizabeth, she had been given the opportunity to shed light on her cousin’s good character. By encouraging Elizabeth to follow her heart, she had been the means of uniting them.
*
Darcy espied Elizabeth outside on the swing he had built for her. From the hardy ropes and the sturdy wooden seat to the magnificent oak tree from which it hung, it was a replica of the one she had enjoyed so much at Longbourn. He had assured her that he had not intended it as a substitute for the idyllic spot she so adored at her father’s home. He promised they would travel there as often as she wished.
“I thought I might find you here.”
As had fast become his wont, Darcy claimed a spot behind her. He pushed her higher and higher until she reached her fill and insisted he cease.
After gently guiding her to a smooth rest, he handed her down to her feet. “Come—walk with me.”
She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Where are we going?”
Darcy took her by the hand. “You shall see soon enough.”
In silent bliss, the two sauntered along a secluded path that afforded a breath-taking view of Pemberley House—pausing now and again whilst Darcy took the time to pay homage to those matters that gratified Elizabeth’s sensibilities.
The gentle touch of his lips behind her ear—warm, enticing. The intoxicating scent of sandalwood and musk spoke of his passion—his strength.
The delicious taste of fresh berries he had enjoyed on his way to finding her. How she loved fresh berries. Plump, red morsels of delight reminding her of youthful days in Hertfordshire—promising her the sanctuary of finding oneself at home.
The melodious sound of his soft moans when she playfully escaped his amorous embrace combined with the precious sight of his longing—his wanting more than their current circumstances allowed.
Elizabeth reached for Darcy’s hand and encouraged him further along their secluded trail. The wooded path bordered a stream of some natural importance—its banks neither formal nor falsely adorned. She had never seen a place for which nature had done more or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste.
To be mistress of Pemberley is truly something. Such had been a familiar refrain over the days and weeks since he had brought her to their home.
Soon they came to the spot he had intended. Elizabeth espied a blanket spread on the ground and a picnic basket nearby. He had planned for them to be there for a while.
Darcy sat and pulled her down next to him. He then handed her a letter.
“What is this?”
“What does it look like?”
Admiring the evenness of his handwriting brought about a smirk as well as a bout of mischief. “How fortunate you and I are lovers, else I might never be able to accept this from you, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy grinned. “I am rather certain I would have found a way to entice you to accept a letter from me.” He reached out and brushed a lock of her hair aside. “Even if we were not lovers.”
“You seem rather sure of your powers of persuasion, sir.”
“I am nothing if not determined.”
“My papa warned me that you were used to having your way.”
“Such perceptiveness makes him a wise man.”
She smiled. Her father and Darcy having come to terms with each other meant everything to her.
Elizabeth turned the letter over in her hand. She unfolded the single sheet of paper and paused to mark the significance of the moment—her first letter from her heart’s one and only true love.
“Shall I read it now?”
“Please,” he said.
She read aloud. “My dearest loveliest Elizabeth, I—”
Placing his hand under her chin and lifting her head, he looked intently into her eyes. Further endearing himself to her, he commenced to recite the tender words he had written earlier.
“I truly believe I have loved you throughout all time. But how might that be? How is it I found the love of my life in the least likely place of all my travels?
“How could it not be that every night, for as long as I recall, when I closed my eyes, yours was the only face I beheld? It is no wonder I have never been as bewitched by any woman as I have been by you. You are and always have been my destiny.
“As much as I love you now, I know my happiness—our happiness—has just begun. With each day that passes, affording us greater understanding, untold pleasures, as well as our share of trials and tribulations, the deeper our love will grow.”
He steadied his fingers under her chin. His adoration washed over her face. Slowly, purposely, he eased her nearer. Elizabeth closed her eyes. Achingly anticipating the splendid pleasures inherent in his kiss, her lips parted.
Taking his time, he brushed his lips gently against her cheek. Her body trembled from the teasing trace of his tongue along her lower lip. He drew her even closer and pressed his opened lips to hers, bestowing a warm, engulfing, and cherishing kiss.
“Mrs. Darcy,” he murmured softly in her ear, “thank you for marrying me.”
Delighted, her body welcomed his arousing whisper. When he resumed his agreeable assault along the hollow of her neck, the décolletage of her gown, her moist lips, tears of joy welled in her eyes. At length, she wept.
Captured in the magic of his amorous caresses, Elizabeth, too, had apt cause for gratitude. Indeed, as blissful as they were now, their happiness truly was only beginning to unfold. Before long, she would confide her glad tidings—the affirmation of their love was growing inside her.
Acknowledgments & Thanks
The highest praise goes to Miss Jane Austen’s timeless works, as well as the JAFF community and its curiosity to ask, “What if?”
I express heartfelt warm wishes to the ladies at Beyond Austen.com. I posted Love Will Grow there as a work in progress. Special thanks to Gayle for all you do and to Jakki at Leatherbound Manuscript Editing—the discovery of which I cite as a perfect instance of synchronicity.
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Author’s Bio
P O Dixon writes Jane Austen Pride and Prejudice adaptations with one overriding purpose in mind—falling in love with Darcy and Elizabeth. Sometimes provocative, always entertaining, her stories are read, commented on, and thoroughly enjoyed by thousands of readers worldwide.
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He Taught Me to Hope Christmas Vignette
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