Epilogue Chapter 3 #3
The peace dissolved like sugar into hot tea, leaving sweetness but certainly not quiet.
The Darcy twins had to greet their mother with exuberant affection, while the Bingleys and Fitzwilliams and Rutherfords curtseyed and bowed to their aunt and accept her hugs, before the whole lot of them frolicked over to the tables and the wooden chairs pulled up to them.
The nurses had already sent for breakfast when their charges had first awoken, and the hungry children had not long to wait until the door swung open to admit several smiling maids carrying bowls and spoons and plates, porridge and eggs and bacon and ham and rolls.
Clamorous conversation and the clatter of cups and knives and forks and spoons and dishes soon filled the air, the children chattering happily to one another between bites as they ate.
The places had just been cleared away, and the day’s activities were under discussion when the door opened again.
Samuel shrieked and Esther hollered, and both of them threw themselves on their father, who knelt to catch them, laughing and kissing each one on the head.
Nathan and Thaddeus were right behind their younger siblings, somewhat more restrained in their greeting if no less eager.
Darcy stood, Esther in one arm, his other hand caressing Sammy’s hair as he spoke to his elder two sons, a fond smile on his face.
Elizabeth watched contentedly, enjoying the sight of her husband with their children.
He was a devoted father, pleased with his children and good with them, always willing to give them his time no matter how busy he was.
She watched as the twins moved off, with Sammy tracking behind them like a lady’s train.
Darcy watched them go and turned to his wife.
“Elizabeth, my dear, would you care for a walk? It seems a very fine day outside.”
She rose to her feet immediately.
“I would love that,” she said and turned to Molly, one of the maids. “I think Esther is ready for her nap.”
“Yes, Madame,” Molly said, reaching to take the little girl from her father, who relinquished her after planting a kiss on her fuzzy blonde head.
Elizabeth bid farewell to her children and promised to send ices up later before stepping out into the well-swept corridor. She took Darcy’s arm, and together they walked down two sets of stairs to the side door, which led to the shrubbery.
Many of the older children had already broken their fast. Arabella and Ruth were seated on a wooden bench under an arbor of shading vines, and both were sketching roses on a nearby bush.
After exchanging morning greetings, the older Darcys made their way through a gate, where they found the Bingleys’ two older sons, the eldest Rutherford son, plus Lewis and Alexander Fitzwilliam, discussing horseflesh at a fence which separated them from the Bingley’s stallion and several mares.
Alexander waved in greeting, and his companions turned to look.
Darcy lifted his hand from his wife’s to return the wave, but the couple did not waver in their step, and the boys turned eagerly back to their conversation.
Darcy’s warm hand covered Elizabeth’s again where it lay on his arm, and she strolled at his side, content in his quiet companionship.
The birds were singing, the breeze was blowing, the flowers were tossing their heads and flinging out their scent, and no speech was needed between husband and wife.
They understood one another perfectly without need of words.
Some time passed with mere wandering, perhaps twenty or thirty minutes, with only an occasional soft comment passing between them.
The path unfurled beneath their feet, leading them onwards until the gravel petered out into the parkland.
They stopped, listening to the birds and the sighing of the trees.
Elizabeth became aware of the burbling of running water, and her face lit up.
She knew this spot, knew what was just ahead.
She stepped forward again hastily, drawing Darcy with her.
It was not far, forging their way through the woodlands, until they were standing on the bank of a creek. It was a very familiar creek, and very dear for the memories it held; memories of a brave man, and a foolish young dog, and a daring rescue.
“This is where our love story began,” she murmured, stepping slightly closer to her husband.
He chuckled, and she looked up at him. His hair was now streaked with silver, but he was still a strong man with a straight back.
“It may have been the beginning for you, my darling,” he said, “but I was already in love, though I had not quite accepted it yet.”
She turned toward him and then, after glancing around quickly, pulled him close to her and stared up into his eyes.
“I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and that day I discovered how much I admired you … but I admire you far more after all of these years,” she whispered.
He leaned down and kissed her. “I love you too, my darling, precious Elizabeth.”
The End
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