Elizabeth looked up at him and smiled, “Do not worry. He is harmless, and Mary is equal to the task.”
Darcy, happy to forget Hardston, turned to her, his eyes caressed her face, and suddenly Elizabeth could barely breathe. “We should leave soon, love,” Darcy said his voice low and soft.
“Yes.” Elizabeth swallowed, “I shall alert, Mama.” Darcy watched her as she walked away, then he closed his eyes.
As they stood before the carriage, Mrs. Bennet enveloped Elizabeth in her scented, soft embrace, “Remember what I told you, dear girl, do not ever deny him until you have produced an heir, then you may have the headache!”
Elizabeth cringed, squeezed her mother, and stepped away. “I shall miss you, Mama,” Elizabeth said.
Mrs. Bennet’s eyes became watery, “Oh, my dear girl,” she patted Elizabeth’s cheek.
Elizabeth hugged Georgiana and her younger sisters. Mary told her to read Proverbs 31, Kitty asked if she could have her old bonnets and Lydia, well Lydia was Lydia. “La! Who would have thought it! Mama said that Jane would save the family when it is Lizzy who married a man twice as rich and even more handsome, tis a good joke!”
“Lydia!” Mrs. Bennet hissed.
“What?” Lydia said with a shrug reminiscent of Hardston, and Darcy and Elizabeth exchanged an amused glance.
Jane, Bingley, and Mr. Bennet approached. Jane hugged Elizabeth tightly, while the quartet promised to visit over the festive season. Then it was Mr. Bennet’s turn. He shook Darcy’s hand, and then he looked at Elizabeth, suspiciously glassy-eyed. He hugged her, then pushed her toward her husband with a, “Go on now. Be happy, my Lizzy.”
Elizabeth boarded the carriage slowly and looked out the window, smiling, crying, and waving to all the dear faces until she could see them no longer. When she turned, Darcy watched her, then slipped into the space beside her and pulled her into his arms. “Are you well, my love?”
Elizabeth wiped her face and looked into the eyes of her beloved; she adored him. Her face relaxed with the feelings of love, “Yes,” she stroked his cheek, “yes, I am now.”
“You will see them often, my darling, as often as you desire.”
“Thank you, that is generous, but my home is with you now, my love,” the endearment and the pledge made Darcy’s heart feel like liquid. She was his home, and he was hers. He closed his eyes to the onslaught of the most exquisite feelings of love and kissed her tenderly. Then he tucked her head beneath his chin and whispered to her his love.
When they arrived at his townhome, Darcy wanted to pick Elizabeth up and run upstairs to his chambers, but this was her night, and he was certain that the staff had prepared an elaborate dinner, though food was the furthest thing from his mind. Darcy took a calming breath as he and Elizabeth walked down the corridor.
“I am certain dinner will be prepared soon, my love. I trust you are hungry?”
Elizabeth bit her lip and looked away. Darcy paused, “What troubles you?”
Elizabeth touched the folds of his cravat, “Must we eat dinner now? I mean, I am not very hungry, but if you are, we shall, of course, we should. You are probably famished. I shall see you at dinner,” Elizabeth turned quickly to scurry away, but Darcy caught her hand.
“Wait, my darling, we do not have to eat now. I am content to do whatever you please. What would you prefer?”
Elizabeth looked away from Darcy’s gaze, her face as red as a tomato, and Darcy gasped. Was this her maidenly way of informing him that she wanted to proceed to the wedding night? Darcy’s heart nearly somersaulted out of his chest. “Did you, ah, we could, would you like to have dinner in our chambers?” Elizabeth gave two short, quick nods, and Darcy swallowed. They were close to his study door, so he took her hand and pulled her quickly through it. He shut the door and backed her against it, and the fire ignited. Gone was the restraint. This was two people madly in love, and their union sanctioned by God.
“Would a half hour be sufficient, my love?” Darcy whispered between the kisses. Elizabeth nodded.
“Come,” Darcy grabbed her hand and walked rapidly toward their chambers. He watched her as she entered and closed the door, and then he hurried to his room and called his valet. Half-hour later, Darcy entered to find his new bride, supple, young and beautiful, clad in an ivory silk gown, and looking at him with loving, trusting eyes. Darcy crushed her to his body and fulfilled the vow he had repeated earlier, “With my body, I thee worship.”
Epilogue
20 years later
Darcy and Elizabeth looked at one another as familiar, quick steps echoed down the corridor. Elizabeth sat her book down and waited, and as if on cue, her ten-year-old Jane Rose burst through the door like a gale force wind.
“Papa!” she stomped inside Darcy’s study, not bothering to knock, “you must tell Thomas to allow me to fence! He says ladies cannot fence, but I told him I am not a lady, Mama is; I am a girl!” She stood there, looking between Darcy and Elizabeth with her arms crossed and her father’s scowl.
Jane Rose had her mother’s fiery temperament and her father’s eyes, and Darcy was always in danger of being twisted around her perfect little finger. Darcy walked from behind his desk and kissed her forehead, “This sounds like a matter for your mother to solve, dearest,” he said, before scurrying from the room to a laughing Elizabeth calling after him.
Darcy and Elizabeth had been blessed with four children. The first three, boys, were born within six years of their marriage. William George, the eldest, was dark, handsome, serious, and responsible, always doing what was right and caring for others. He was a replica of his father, except for his mother’s eyes. The next two followed in the same pattern, their father’s looks and their mother’s eyes. Thomas Richard was as gregarious as his elder brother was serious, and Jonathan Charles, his junior by one year was his best mate. The two climbed trees and fought imaginary battles and generally kept their parents on alert. Just when they believed their family complete, four years after the birth of Jonathan Charles came little Jane Rose. She was tiny, clever, independent, and fiery, the only one with her mother’s chestnut curls and her father’s eyes.
After calming the crisis with her daughter, Elizabeth found her husband in the library. “Hiding?” she asked.
“Not at all, just improving my mind with extensive reading,” Darcy arched a brow.
Elizabeth laughed and sat upon his lap, and he wrapped his arms around her. They sat as they had done these twenty years. “You really must learn to tell her ‘no,’”
“I will – when her first beau comes to court her.”
Elizabeth laughed, and Darcy kissed her. She was everything to him. Still beautiful at nine and thirty. He was in awe of how she handled life, with grace and courage and humor. She had been his lover, his confidant, his friend, and his heart still beat for her. He knew it always would.
Elizabeth looked at the letter beside him, “Hayden?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“What does he say?”
“He thanked me for helping Alexander sell Creston Hill.”
“Umm, how is Hayden?”
“He is well. He says his wife and girls are fine and his business prosperous.”
“That is good.”
Since leaving England, Hayden had established a thriving export business, married, and fathered three daughters. Over the years, as Hayden experienced acceptance and found love, the hate had crumbled, and he and Darcy had formed a friendship through updates concerning Alexander. Hayden had once told Darcy that he was glad that he had only fathered girls after the birth of Alexander, for since he had elected to stay away for Alexander’s sake, he would have felt enormous guilt giving his love to another son. In this, he said, he better understood their own father’s struggles.
Alexander and Cassandra had been adopted by Francesca’s second husband, whom she married four years after settling in Newcastle. Initially, Francesca had spurned the handsome doctor, who t
reated children for free at the foundling home where Francesca volunteered. With the provisions that Hayden had provided, Francesca was determined that she would never again be subjected to the whims of another. About a month after settling into her lovely cottage, she had been given the deed to it. She learned that Darcy had purchased it and given it into her name. She had wept for her freedom. She now had a home that no one could take, but also, she wept because that gesture meant that Darcy understood, and that he may one day forgive her. It had felt like the sun coming out after a season of rain. She had relaxed for the first time in her life, and determined to give hope to others, she had volunteered at the foundling home, sewing clothes, and teaching the girls to read and sew.
One day, about three years into her new and satisfying life, a handsome young Italian doctor, who was an orphan himself, took over the practice of the community’s aging physician. He added to his practice the treatment of the sick at the foundling home. They met, and he watched her for weeks, showing up often on her scheduled days, even when there were no sick children to tend. At first, she spurned his advances. She was secure now, but eventually, his strength, goodness, and patience overwhelmed her, and she realized that since she was secure financially, she could freely love for the first time in her life. She told him of her past, her most heinous deed, and he loved her anyway. They were married shortly thereafter. Her children adored him, and to Cassandra and Alexander, they added two more girls and a boy. They eventually returned to his country of Italy and started anew. Having been adopted by her husband, Alexander and Cassandra never knew the taint of illegitimacy.
The same happy ending could not be said of Caroline Bingley. After receiving the cut direct at Darcy’s and Elizabeth’s engagement dinner, she was sent to the despised relations in Scarborough. At the start of the next season, Caroline finagled an invitation from Hetty Greenwood and returned to town. She promptly attended an event only to be turned away by the lady of the house; as a result, she was turned out by Hetty as well. Enraged, she was sent back to Scarborough where at eight and twenty, she finally married a tradesman seven years her senior. Her new husband had inherited a struggling business from an uncle. He was a man of good sense and confidence, who turned his business into a success, with the aid of Caroline’s dowry. Unfortunately, he had no desire for society, so he and Caroline, who bore two sons, remained in Scarborough where she attempted to reign over the tradesmen’s wives with little success.
Back in the library, Darcy brushed the hair from Elizabeth’s face. She had been sitting upon his lap for a while, and her light and pleasing figure, a little fuller now from bearing his children, was beginning to have the usual effect upon him. He kissed her neck, “Mrs. Darcy.”
“Hmm?”
“You are so beautiful, and I love you more today than ever.”
Elizabeth rubbed his cheek, this beautiful man had been her friend, her lover, her protector. She had dreamed she could love and be loved so deeply. She pulled his head down to her and just as their lips touched, footsteps thundered down the corridor. They looked at one another and laughed. She slid off his lap and took his hands, “Come, it seems your daughter is at it again.”
“My daughter? She is a replica of you, my dear. Which is why I cannot possibly say ‘no.’” Elizabeth kissed him just as their daughter stomped into the room, with a torn hem, twigs in her hair, followed by her brothers, (one of them dripping wet). Thomas and Jonathan spoke over one another while William sensibly explained that Jane Rose had pushed Thomas into the pond for taunting his younger brother because as the elder brother, she surmised, he should protect the younger. Darcy smiled. Jane Rose was fiercely protective just like her mother. Darcy watched as Elizabeth gathered all their children close and listened to them one at a time, corrected their behavior and soothed their hurts. He was rich, society still clamored after him, but he knew that this was what made him important, not his money, nor his land, nor his position in society, but this, this great love, with this great woman that had filled the empty places in his heart. A love that had produced these extraordinary human beings that he was privileged to father. Darcy recalled a letter Hayden had written in which Hayden had expressed how he finally understood the significance of life as he looked into the eyes of each one of his beautiful daughters. Darcy had agreed. This is what made them men of significance, not their birth, not their wealth, but being privileged to love and be loved in return – this is what made them men of consequence.
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Notes
[←1]
Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice.
[←2]
David Hume's Essays, Moral and Political, 1742, http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/beauty-is-in-the-eye-of-the-beholder.html.
[←3]
3 Anonymous, “I Leave My Heart with Thee”.
Men of Consequence Page 46
