Epilogue
It was only once they were walking back from Oakham Mount, hand in hand, that Elizabeth asked what was burning in her mind.
“How did you remember?”
Mr. Darcy’s hand tightened around hers immediately.
“I thought I had dreamt it all.”
“Oh.”
He squeezed her hand again. “Once I found the letter to my sister, I realized it may not have been a dream.”
Elizabeth looked to the ground as they walked. Emotions churned within her.
“I left those in the cottage and did not remember until I was halfway back to Hunsford. I am sorry.”
She remembered how she had cried until Charlotte had assured her that she would write to Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mr. Darcy entwined their fingers until she looked up.
“Richard found them and kept them safe.”
She nodded.
Charlotte had told her as much in a letter after she had returned to Longbourn.
“...but he did not return them to me until last week.”
Elizabeth stopped walking.
It was as if someone had dropped a boulder on her heart. The ache she had carried in her chest for months returned. And grew.
Agitation thrummed through her.
“Why?”
She hated how strangled her voice sounded.
What if the Colonel had never returned the pages to Mr. Darcy?
They faced each other. He did not let go of her hand.
“He did not think it was necessary.”
There was pain flashing in Mr. Darcy’s eyes. Elizabeth stared at their joined hands. Her eyes prickled as he raised their entwined hands and held it against his heart. She could feel the thuds within his chest.
“I could not stop thinking about you,” Mr. Darcy said. “The memories… what I thought were dreams, kept coming back to me.”
He held their joined hands more firmly against his heart.
“When I walked under the cherry trees at Pemberley, or sat on a garden bench at a friend’s estate, or watched two women drinking tea… I could only think of you. It was incessant.”
His heart was beating faster.
Elizabeth looked up. Raw anguish was on his face.
“Almost everything reminded me of you. I could not write a letter without the oddest feeling that something was left unfinished.”
There was a sheen in his eyes.
“Richard caught on eventually and confessed to me about you, and what he called your peculiar claims. That was when it dawned on me.”
Mr. Darcy reached out and cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing a line of fire along her skin. Elizabeth sucked in a breath. Neither looked away from the other.
“I remembered our last conversation in Mrs. Ronald’s cottage,” he said. The sheen in his eyes were tears now. “The feel of your hand in mine…”
The gravity between them had grown excruciating.
The distance, unbearable.
They leaned into the other, and kissed again.
Elizabeth closed her eyes as more tears rolled down her face, a deep thrill shivering up her spine. Her arms wound over his shoulders and into his hair. His top hat fell to the ground.
Mr. Darcy wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her even closer.
The kiss deepened, until they were left gasping. Breathless.
“My dearest Elizabeth.”
Fin