by J Dawn King
“Fitzwilliam, did I hear you correctly when you stated that our home would be filled with love and joy?” Her eyes were luminous when she looked up at him. “Were your words spoken with deliberation?”
Darcy patted the hand on his arm.
“They were.” He grinned at her, his eyes soft and warm.
“I see.” Her smile grew to match his; her voice was a whisper. “Are you saying, then, that you love me as I do you?”
So focused were they on each other that they became unaware there were others in the room.
“You love me?” Darcy was stunned. He had never thought to hear the words so soon.
He saw the twinkle, then he looked at her lips to her smile. It was brilliant.
“You want to marry me then? Really want to?” His heart had to be sure.
“Yes, Mr. Darcy.”
What else was there for him to do? In front of the Bingleys, the Hursts, the Bennets, his aunt, and Mr. Collins, he lowered his head to hers and kissed her firmly on the lips. She kissed him back.
“Well I never!” Lady Catherine’s pitch resembled Mrs. Bennets when she was intensely frazzled. “I am deeply offended at your conduct. That my own nephew would do something so improper, so against the rules of decorum and propriety, in company with heathen tradespeople in a house which one day would belong to Mr. Collins is against everything I know. Honour, decorum, prudence, nay, interest, forbade it. I am leaving, Fitzwilliam Darcy. You will rue the day you stood against me.”
The great lady turned to walk out. ``I take no leave of you, Darcy. You deserve no such attention. I am most seriously displeased.''
“Are you seriously displeased?” Darcy whispered to Elizabeth as he finally drew his head back from hers, completely ignoring his aunt.
“Not at all, Fitzwilliam. There is nothing that pleases me more than to be in your arms.” She snuggled closer. “Are you?”
“Never!” Darcy kissed her again briefly. “Do you not know that Mr. and Mrs. Darcy shall be reported to be ridiculously happy by all and sundry? We shall live a long life together and scoff at those who say we were not meant for each other. Are you agreed?”
“Oh, yes, Mr. Darcy.”
He still held her to his chest when Lady Catherine stomped out the door.
CHAPTER TEN
At the same time Mr. Bennet loudly cleared his throat, Kitty coughed, Mary preached the sins of anger, corruption, and lust, Caroline Bingley squealed in anguish, Mrs. Bennet’s mouth hung open, Mr. Collins gaped at the couple, and the Hursts, Bingley, and Jane smiled with shared happiness for Darcy and Elizabeth. Not one person remaining in the dining room mourned the loss of Lady Catherine’s company. She would have felt the lack most acutely.
“Oh Lord, Lizzy!” Lydia had stood from the table and was now walking in a slow circle around the couple. “I hope to never marry a short man. Look how your head fits perfectly under his chin.” She stopped and put her finger to her cheek, tilting her head. “I thought I wanted someone similar to John Lucas, but I do not believe his arms are long enough to wrap me as tightly as you are being held.” The youngest Bennet looked up and caught Darcy’s eyes. “I would not have thought it, Mr. Darcy, but you will do for Lizzy after all.”
Darcy realized Elizabeth had long ago learned to overlook her youngest sister’s strongly expressed youthful opinions. For him, it was a relatively new experience. He could feel the heat in his face and knew the tops of his ears would be bright red. Yet he counted the cost of a temporary embarrassment against having Elizabeth in his embrace and knew he would put up with anything to keep her there.
“I commend you for your keen observation, Miss Lydia.” What else could he possibly have said to an impertinent young girl who should not have been at the table?
“Me too, Mr. Darcy.” Kitty chimed in. “I want to marry a tall man too.”
Darcy finally stepped away from Elizabeth and bowed to the second youngest. “I shall keep that in mind, Miss Catherine.”
“Mr. Darcy, you have sullied my sister’s reputation by your ungentlemanlike conduct.” Mary’s spectacles perched at the end of her nose and her chin was raised while her head turned slightly to the side. “In spite of the fact that Mr. Collins intended to offer for her sooner, you shall have to marry Lizzy. It is the Christian thing to do.”
“Thank you, Miss Mary.” For the life of him, he could think of nothing else to add.
“Well, Mr. Darcy, it seems you must, indeed, marry my Lizzy. My children and wife have spoken.” Mr. Bennet seemed resigned. “The events of the evening will provide fodder for years of entertainment and though I do not want to lose Elizabeth, I now know I am doing so to a worthy man.”
Darcy noted Elizabeth’s embarrassment as her eyes went to her eldest sister. Jane’s head was bent as a rose blush covered the parts of her face that he could see and her hands twisted and pulled at the napkin in her lap. He felt their mortification.
“I am sorry.” She mouthed, for his eyes alone. “That such a great man would choose to overlook the impropriety of my family eases me, Fitzwilliam.”
“I am sorry as well, Elizabeth.” Darcy had been appalled at his aunt’s conduct and the vitriol spewing from her mouth. If anyone should be ashamed of their relatives, it would be him. Nonetheless, there was no reason to accept blame for the bad behavior of others.
“Fitzwilliam, I believe that what tests us will make us stronger.”
He took her small hand in his and could not keep the smile off his face. It continued to amaze him how comfortable and at peace he felt in her company. Had it only been three days since he spied her at the assembly? So much had happened, it was difficult to imagine so few hours had passed.
“I say, Darcy,” Bingley stood and spoke. “My family and I join in extending hearty congratulations at your betrothal. You are the most fortunate of men to have captured a woman who makes you happy. I hope each and every day draws you closer as your family grows and flourishes.” He lifted his glass. “May you have grey hair that comes from old age, wisdom, and worry.”
At that Darcy cocked his head, lifting his brow in the process. Elizabeth looked first at Bingley and then back to Darcy. Mass confusion filled the room. Only Caroline Bingley spoke.
“Whatever do you mean, Charles? Mr. Darcy is possessed of a fine home, wealth, a good name, and the highest position in society.” Caroline stopped and pressed her hand to her forehead. “Oh, I catch your meaning. It will be upon his marriage to Eliza Bennet that he will have reason to worry. Yes, Charles, very well said.”
“Caroline!” Disapprobation radiated from Bingley as he spoke sternly to his sister. “You misunderstand me.”
He turned his back to her and looked at his friend. “Darcy, I have watched you worry and fret over your sister these past five years. Actually, I have watched you worry and fret over just about every matter under the sun.” He stopped at the chuckles from the others in the room. “The worry I wish you will come when your first girl child is born. If she looks like her mother, you will love her with such passion that your hair will streak with silver as she nears the age to come out and marry. Your firstborn son will add to it by riding his pony at breakneck speed over the fields of your estate. He will swim before you are ready and run when you wish him to walk. You will plan and organize and plan some more when your second son is born, then your third and beyond…only to have them independently strike out on their own. Oh yes, Darcy. You will worry; but you would have it no other way.”
“Thank you, Charles.” Darcy was almost overcome with emotion. “We will remember your words always.” He raised Elizabeth’s hand to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist. He caught the glint of tears at the corners of her eyes and knew that her heart, too, had been touched.
The rest of the evening was spent in pleasant discussion, at least for Darcy and Elizabeth. As the Netherfield party filed out of Longbourn for the return trip to Bingley’s estate, Darcy walked alongside his betrothed.
“We weather
ed our first storm, Elizabeth.”
‘That we did.” Elizabeth squeezed his arm. “And we are still engaged to be married.”
“That we are.” His gazed down at her with such depth of feeling that his chest felt like it would burst. He stopped walking before they reached the carriage. The moon was waning and Elizabeth’s lovely face was bathed in the moonlight.
“Elizabeth, do you recall your words to Georgiana the day you spoke to her in Lambton?”
“I do not, Fitzwilliam.” It had been almost three months. She remembered the occasion and her impressions of the two, but not the spoken words.
“You asked Georgiana what Norty would say if she was still here; what lessons she would have learned from the circumstance she mentioned to you at the graveside.”
“Oh yes, I do recall now.”
“My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. If Mrs. Northam was here next to me, she would ask me what I now know that I did not earlier.”
“And what have you learned, Fitzwilliam?”
He reached his free hand up and touched her cheek. “All of those months I searched for you, I loved you. I loved your kindness in speaking to a lonely, confused girl who was wholly unrelated to you. I loved the tenderness in your heart to have approached her and your care in dignifying her feelings. I loved your firmness in not allowing her to excuse her own decisions.”
Darcy was overwhelmed at all that had transpired with his sister. “Elizabeth, people in my world do not treat others in such a fashion. I learned then that if I ever found you, I would need to be a better man. I would need to be the best man I could be.”
“Fitzwilliam, you are the best of men. I know it to be true.” She quickly reassured him.
“And I learned what my father meant when he thought he loved my mother to the fullest on his wedding day, only to find out what true love was as they met the daily challenges and joys. For I love you so much more at this minute than I thought humanly possible. I look forward to whatever tomorrow brings as I will end the day loving you more than at the start.”
“Oh, Fitzwilliam. I will hold these words in my heart for as long as I live.”
“Do you love me, Elizabeth? Really and truly love me?”
He could not wait for her answer. His heart demanded action, so he kissed her with a passion he did not know he possessed. She answered equally and he could hardly breathe with the emotion.
“Do I love you, Fitzwilliam? Does my heart rejoice at the thought of what tomorrow will bring? Do I look forward to a future at your side?” Elizabeth leaned her cheek into his hand. “Do you fill my heart with joy? Have you come to mean the world to me?”
She paused, taking in a deep breath.
“Yes, Mr. Darcy. A resounding ‘yes’ to all.” She stood on her toes and kissed the corner of his mouth.
He kissed her then with such feeling that he missed the collective sigh from those outside.
“You will marry me?” One last reassurance.
“Yes, Mr. Darcy.”
EPILOGUE
Ten Years Later
The hallways of Pemberley resonated with the sounds of happy children. The Darcys’ five boys were joined by Charles and Jane Bingley’s three daughters. Mary Bennet, who had never wed nor had never
been inclined to do so, was trying to herd them outside into the garden without damage to the valuables in the niches along the corridor.
Mrs. Hurst was heavy with child, so their family remained at their townhouse in London, as it was too dangerous for Louisa to travel this close to her confinement. Miss Bingley, had foolishly entrusted her dowry to the treacherous Mr. Wickham, the same man who had tried to elope with Georgiana all those years ago. He had presented himself to Caroline as a close friend of the Darcys. In a short period of time she was penniless. Thus, Caroline was forced to remain with the Hursts to care for the two young girls in the household as she no longer had an income of her own. She had never been able to move past the jealousy she felt towards Mrs. Darcy so had not, until George Wickham, accepted the attentions of any other gentlemen. Afterwards, Hurst and Bingley refused to sponsor her in society. For her, it was the bitterest of blows.
Georgiana Darcy was thrilled when her brother wrote to her that he had found the young woman from the cemetery. When he mentioned his betrothal to her in the same letter, she had been overjoyed. Elizabeth Darcy had become a trusted friend and confidant. When Georgiana had met and fallen in love with Lord Winters, the Marquess of Devondale, it had relieved her heart to have Elizabeth ease her brother’s way.
Elizabeth watched the children and her sister from the stone bench in the center of the garden. Her husband soon joined her.
“Did Jane bring news of the rest of your family?” Darcy had come to dread the annual visits of Mrs. Bennet. Both Kitty and Lydia had calmed with the discipline of the headmistress at their finishing school. Kitty had married an injured soldier living in London who took up the law. Lydia had fallen head-over-heels in love with the new rector of the Meryton parish. Therefore, she lived but a short distance from her former home.
Elizabeth chuckled softly. “According to my eldest sister, who has never said an unkind word about anyone, Papa and Mr. Collins have become combatants in their own home with Mama in the middle. Jane called her the mediator, but I cannot see it.”
Darcy sniggered. “I can see in my mind’s eye your father using his intellectual prowess to keep Mr. Collins from his bookroom. I can also see Mr. Collins being entirely unaware of these efforts and bursting into where he is most unwelcome, completely oblivious to his being uninvited, offering to share his spiritual counsel and wisdom with your father.”
The mental picture was a comedy of errors. Over the intervening years, Elizabeth was able to carry on conversations with her father, but the relationship never returned to the days prior to the summer Mr. and Mrs. Darcy met. She had come to terms with this soon after she married Darcy. She had her own family and her own home.
“Jane also told me that Mama would be tending Lydia during her confinement.”
Darcy snorted loudly, a most ungentlemanly sound.
“I cannot imagine your youngest sister being any happier this time than she was when her son was born.” He squeezed his wife’s hand and asked, “What was it she told your mother?”
A laugh burst from Elizabeth. Certainly her mother would have found no humor in the conversation, but it was classic Lydia.
“She informed Mama, in no uncertain terms, that if she needed no assistance to become with child, she needed no help delivering it.”
Darcy’s head nodded up and down at the memory. “Yet, your mother is not here?”
“No, she is not.” Elizabeth shook her head, her eyes closing. “According to Mama’s last letter, even though Lydia has been married to a responsible man these five years, she is her baby and needs her mother.”
Both Darcy and Elizabeth sighed, pleased that Mrs. Bennet did not live close. Since Mary had moved to Pemberley less than a year after the Darcy marriage and the Bingleys had moved from Netherfield Park to Derbyshire that same year, the only Bennet child remaining in Hertfordshire was Lydia. Mother and daughter butted heads regularly with neither willing to give in. It had to be difficult for Lydia’s husband, at least Darcy presumed so, yet the man loved his wife fiercely.
As Darcy loved his wife. He looked at the children to see if any were watching before gathering Elizabeth in his arms. For some reason, his older sons delighted in teasing him about displaying affections so openly.
“Will Anne come to Pemberley, dearest?” Elizabeth had been sad for her husband when his aunt had succumbed to a cold. Lady Catherine had insisted that people did not die from a trifling sniffle, yet she had done so. Darcy had so few family members remaining that the loss of even one as cantankerous as Lady Catherine was missed.
“I expect her later today.”
“And your Fitzwilliam cousins?” Lord and Lady Matlock rarely left London, but both their sons were country born and br
ed. The Fitzwilliam boys loved to tease Darcy as he was the youngest male cousin. Both men had made arranged marriages and both men had girl children. The abundance of Darcy males had been a source of continuing irritation as there needed to be an heir born to inherit the earldom.
“Elizabeth, dear. Are you prepared for all this company?”
“You know I am, darling.” Mrs. Reynolds, Pemberley’s housekeeper, ran a tight ship and the house was ready for the influx. “I am hopeful this child will not be born while they are here. It would not dare. Too much noise will fill our home and I am afraid our babe would enter the world only to want to return to the quiet comfort of my womb.”
Darcy gently rubbed the large bump hiding his wife’s abdomen.
“Do you long for a girl, Lizzy?” Her husband had long ago shorted her name when his emotions were engaged.
