Epilogue
Elizabeth was cradling the bundle in her arms, studying the child’s cobalt blue eyes.
“I am struck by how like his father he is.”
A surge of joy as deep as the ocean travelled through Darcy’s soul; all would be well. They both would be, his wife and his son.
“Resurgam. It is Latin and means that we shall rise.”
“I think we already have,” Elizabeth comforted him. “Even should we never be accepted in superior society, we have our family and close friends, a magnificent house on a prosperous estate, love, and an heir. Who could ask for more?”
“Certainly not I!”
Darcy relieved his wife of the child and cradled his sleeping son in his arms. Familiar as he was with his own heart, he was surprised the organ had the power to swell to double its usual size.
The tiny body induced a joy so profound that his life would never be the same.
He was where he belonged, with the people he loved, who loved him in return.
Everything was right in the world, though he would never beget another child.
The fear of losing Elizabeth had gripped him so fiercely during her labour that he had vowed before God and all those present that if she lived, he would never subject her to the danger of childbirth ever again.
Elizabeth had been confined to her bed for the next four weeks, which had made his vivacious wife ridiculously ill-tempered.
Darcy had kept her and the baby company nearly every hour of the day, but despite his endeavours, his wife’s mood had plunged, culminating in a storm of tears on the fourth day after the birth.
He had held her tightly in his arms and waited patiently for the tempest to calm.
Fortunately, she awoke the next day in much better spirits.
Guests poured in from east, west, and south. Longbourn, Netherfield, and Ritterhof had been emptied of their occupants as everyone had gathered at Pemberley to welcome the heir.
Darcy joined his guests for breakfast, eager to return to his son and wife as soon as he had done his duty. Regarding the motley crew, he observed that some people never changed, whilst others had altered significantly.
“I say you should not have been so eager to wed, Jane. With your beauty, you could have married a duke since Lydia has secured a future count.”
Both Lydia and Jane swivelled their heads towards the Bennet matriarch and exclaimed simultaneously, “Mother!”
An uncomfortable silence descended upon the party. Darcy was searching his mind for a safe topic when Bingley spoke.
“Dear Jane, I have been contemplating an important matter for quite some time, though I have yet to broach the subject with you. As of this moment, any qualms I may have harboured have been laid to rest, and I am finally ready to proceed.”
“Yes?” Jane prompted him with raised eyebrows.
“What say you we give up the lease on Netherfield and move closer to Elizabeth?”
“I say yes,” Jane agreed, smiling.
Darcy was certain that her hand had moved beneath the table to squeeze Bingley’s knee. Or at least, he hoped it was his knee… By the absolutely besotted expression covering his friend’s face, he could not be certain.
“Why would you ever consider giving up Netherfield?” Mrs Bennet protested with derision clouding her prettyish face. “It is the grandest house in the neighbourhood.”
Bingley managed not to acknowledge his mother-in-law, not a twitch suggesting he had heard anything she said. All his attention centred upon his wife.
“Good, because I have found an estate not ten miles from Pemberley. With your consent, I shall begin investigating the house, the grounds, and the profitability at once.”
“I have heard nothing more preposterous in my life!” Mrs Bennet cried.
To Darcy’s astonishment, the serene and compliant Jane Bingley completely disregarded her mother and beamed at her husband.
“Please do. I am eager to see it. Oh, what is the name of this estate? Darcy might know something about it.”
“It is Beeley Hall in Cavendish village. Do you know it, Darcy?”
“Yes, it is modest compared to Netherfield Park—about the size of Longbourn, or perhaps a little larger.”
Jane clapped her hands together and beamed. “It sounds perfect. Oh, I do hope the house, grounds, and prospects are adequate. I would love to live close to Lizzy and watch Master Fitzwilliam grow into his breeches.”
“You will do no such thing,” Mrs Bennet complained.
Jane turned to her mother with a fierce glare. “The decision has been made.”
What could Mrs Bennet have done to provoke the amenable Mrs Bingley to gainsay her mother so forcefully and display a pronounced wish to move far away? It could not have been merely her invidious remark about the lady’s husband. He had better have a private conversation with Bingley.
“Would you mind joining me in my study once you have finished breakfast, Bingley?”
“Not at all. I was about to suggest the same, and I am quite full.”
Darcy rose and Bingley followed.
“What do you think about Beeley Hall?” Bingley questioned as soon as they were seated.
“It is a well-managed estate that yields about two and a half to three thousand a year. It is less than what you are accustomed to, but the expense will not deplete your capital completely. If you invest what you have left prudently, you should be able to live comfortably.”
Bingley grinned. “I should think so. My wealth is growing nicely. My father was one of the original investors in the Middleton Railway, and the introduction of the steam locomotive last year has doubled my profit.”
“Interesting. I have shares there, too, and I agree. It is quite the lucrative business.”
“So, when can we inspect Beeley?”
Darcy would prefer to remain at home with Elizabeth, but Bingley was, in some manner, his charge.
“Allow me to confer with Elizabeth before we decide, but what is the urgency?”
“Mrs Bennet is driving me stark raving mad with her daily interference. Even my angelic Jane has been driven to distraction. The crux of the matter, however, is that the Bingley heir is coming, and he should be born at the estate he stands to inherit.”
“You might be expecting a girl…”
“Excellent, then she will inherit.”
“Will you remain at Netherfield until Kitty and Augustus are wed?”
“Probably, though not so long as Lydia’s wedding to the Reimarus heir. If I am forced to wait until then, I shall strangle Mrs Bennet before my child is born.”
Mr Bennet, in a rare patriarchal mood, had forbidden Lydia from marrying before her seventeenth birthday. Lord Ritterhof had gracefully agreed to await the blessed event.
“We cannot have that. Let us go to Beeley Hall before you are indicted for murder.”
“Capital!”
#
For eight long weeks, Elizabeth had been relegated to the mistress’s chamber, and for an equal amount of time, her husband had refused to visit her.
Being used to sharing the master’s chamber, she found the banishment most grating.
Now that Master Fitzwilliam slept the whole night through, his night-time care was no longer a problem.
Well, if Darcy will not come to me, I must go to him.
Elizabeth trod warily through their joint sitting room and into the master’s chamber.
In her mind, it was long-due that she join her husband, but he had resisted and begged her to take all the time she needed, which did not sound like Darcy.
Something was amiss, and she intended to discover what.
In the meantime, all she needed was her husband’s warm embrace.
As he had rejected her previous propositions and slept like a lord, it was best to slither unnoticed into his bed.
He tended to gravitate towards her in his sleep and would pull her close none the wiser.
As she had predicted, Darcy stirred but did not awaken. He pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms around her. “Apple dumpling shop,” he purred. The next moment his lips grazed her ear and heat pooled in her belly.
His breathing changed from its steady rhythm to something more erratic, then his entire being went rigid before he slowly untangled himself from her. The cold air embracing her skin was nothing to the ache in her heart.
The bed creaked when he rose and hit the opposite wall with a muted thump.
Darcy was acting nonsensically!
Ever since he had discovered that she was heavy with his child, his expressions of love had become more tender.
Gone was the wild abandonment where he turned into something primal and barely human—a trait she would never have supposed to be a facet of the staid master of Pemberley’s character before they married.
A quality that she missed dearly and would not allow him to abandon.
She rose from the bed and sauntered towards her husband, whose breath quickened, though not in anticipation but rather in fear.
“Are you afraid of me, husband?”
Darcy chuckled before unconvincingly protesting, “Absolutely not.”
The scratching of a person moving against the wall reached her ears through the darkness.
“Then why are you fleeing from me?”
“I think it is wise that I keep my distance from you for the rest of our marriage…”
“Whatever for?”
“I heard your screams, Elizabeth. Never again! You bellowed so loudly whilst delivering our child that I could hear you all the way to the library.”
“Did I? It must have been the pain speaking, my love. Not I.”
“It was your voice,” Darcy stubbornly affirmed.
Elizabeth launched for him and captured his wrist.
“I do not even remember doing such a thing, and I certainly did not mean for it to ruin any pleasure of yours. Or mine…”
“I cannot risk your life again. We have an heir to Pemberley—I see no reason to subject you to such danger.”
Her hands travelled up his muscular arms to the wide plane of his chest. He was naked and cold to the touch. Her hands dropped and trailed down the ravine leading to his best feature.
When he hissed a breath, she rejoiced in her success.
Darcy righted his stance in a way that made Elizabeth go perfectly still.
He leant in, slowly, in a manner that made time grow thick and elastic.
The first assault to her senses was the hot breath wafting down her throat.
Then a lock of his dark hair brushed against her chin before his lips descended upon her neck in a crescendo of light touches, nibbles, and bites.
For a moment, his cheek rested against hers.
Elizabeth’s heart kicked sharply. She closed her eyes as her body grew feverishly warm, whilst his stubble chafed her skin. She breathed in the smell of clean linen and soap—and the musky scent of his burgeoning desire. Their desire.
Darcy raised his head slowly, as if emerging from torpor, and the warmth left her cheek for a new destination—her mouth. His hands smoothed swiftly over the rise of her hips to grip the swell of her bottom, igniting a flame of want rippling through her body.
Later, she could not remember how they moved to the bed or feeling the cold floor beneath her feet.
It was shrouded in a haze of love and lust, but the movement of time was made obvious by the candles that had burnt to short stubs in the sconces.
The moonlight shining through the narrow windows cast the furniture into long shadows.
Her senses were occupied with reliving the feel of being loved by Darcy.
“It is not only in poetry, you know,” Darcy whispered hoarsely. “A woman can truly take one’s breath away.”
The End
[1] Source:
[2] The Brunswick star is an emblem which in outline is an eight-pointed or sixteen-pointed star, but which is composed of many narrow rays.