Epilogue Summer 1813, A Meadow in Derbyshire
They walked along the high meadow and Elizabeth noted the cooler air, despite the abundance of sunshine. She walked slightly ahead of him and ran her hands along the tops of the wildflowers. If she ran fast enough then perhaps their scent would imprint themselves on her hand.
She began to run and saw that he was running after her.
She wore only a thin muslin dress while he wore only a loose white shirt over his breeches. They did not appear like the wealthy master and mistress of a large estate. Rather, they appeared only as a couple in love, perhaps of a much lower station in life, enjoying the summer air.
Eventually she stopped and opened her arms to him. He came forward and enveloped her, then spun her around. She spun and spun, locked in his arms and becoming dizzy.
It seemed so familiar to her - to be here, with him. Had she been here before? Or dreamed this before?
“I love you, Elizabeth,” he said as he put her down and stared into her eyes. “Even if you’d never accepted me, I shall always love you.”
She grew still, having suddenly remembered those words. She had heard them before. But they were not real, were they? She had been in the snowy wilderness of her fevered dream and a man with Darcy’s voice had spoken them. She looked at her husband and saw that he was looking curiously at her.
“What is it, Elizabeth?”
“Did you…did you ever say those words to me…before?”
“What words, my love?”
“That even if I never accept you, you would always love me.”
He stared into the distance and was quiet. When he eventually spoke, his voice was low, just above a whisper. “Yes…I did say that.”
“When? When did you say that?”
“It was when you were ill. When you almost died. I could not help it, you see. I had to tell you.”
“They let you into my room, then?”
He nodded.
“You held me in your arms, and spooned broth into my mouth and held tea to my lips when I could barely move…”
“I did…”
“And when I shook so violently that I could not stop myself from crying, it was you who wiped away my tears?”
“Yes…it was.”
She recalled, with great clarity, the feeling of being cherished - wherein the sensation of his warm arms around her was the only source of comfort in the unremitting coldness.
“Why did you never tell me?”
“Because I thought, in light of what you said when we last spoke, that you still despised me.”
She impulsively kissed his hand and looked plaintively at him. “But I regretted those words that very evening, and how viciously I refused you! I was angry that you insulted me and that was why I spoke as I did. But I regretted it - that very night.”
“I never would have expected it.”
“And yet I did,” she responded. “In fact, there was something you said that stayed with me and affected me only a few seconds later. That you would have loved me with all the ardency and depth of one who’s never loved before…”
“It is true,” he said softly, “I never loved anyone before I loved you.”
“Nor have I.”
He chuckled. “So, my words affected you?”
“More than you know,” she answered. “But I was so ill that I could not address them properly. And so I sent you away without ever clarifying matters. But I continued to regret my intemperate words even during my illness…and in my sleep.” More than a minute went by before she eventually said, “I thought I was dreaming. I thought I had fallen in love with a dream - a dream wherein you loved me.”
He smiled wistfully and said, “I wish I had known.”
They gazed at one another, not speaking for some time.
At length Elizabeth thought of something else and said, “Once…while I was recovering from my illness…I looked out my window into the rain. Do you recall how much it rained during those days?”
“Yes, I recall.”
“In any event, I was staring out the window - at twilight - just looking at the rain.” She paused, then took a deep breath. “And I saw…well beyond Hunsford’s gardens…a figure. A man, leaning against a tree and standing perfectly still - ”
“It was me.”
Her mind asked the question why, but her lips spoke the word, “You?”
He answered both. “Yes. I missed you and hadn’t seen you in days. So I went…just to look, to be near you.”
“I wish I had known,” she said, using his own words.
She took his face in her hands and kissed him. Then placed her cheek against his chest and remained there for a while, trying to resist the urge to cry. She was only partially successful, she realised, for he soon pulled back and pressed one or two tears away with his thumbs.
“I do not deserve you,” she said.
“It is I who do not deserve you.”
She laughed softly and they stood together, looking across the field at the mountains in the distance.
Eventually she said, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For saving my life.” She thought about those long and painful hours and added, “I truly felt that I was ready to die, so tired of being cold; and the achiness of my body. But you offered me comfort. And I wished to live - for you. Even though you were only a dream, or so I thought. You could have left after my rejection. You could have returned to London. Charlotte told me, you see, that you had been on your way there when you found out I was ill. So…thank you.”
He looked at her in wonder then shook his head.
“I wished for you to live,” he said, “but for selfish reasons. For I could not bear to live in a world without you.”
“Even after what I said…”
“It did not matter what you said. Not really. Not when I was faced with the prospect of losing you forever.”
She pressed her palms to her eyes, finding it hard to believe that she could feel so strongly about another person.
She stared into his face and tried to impress upon him how much she loved him - without the use of words.
It seemed to Elizabeth that no words could ever be enough.
Darcy smiled back, apparently understanding.
They resumed their walk through the field of flowers.
The world was radiant today, the air almost painfully clear.
Elizabeth inhaled deeply, savouring it all.
She gazed at her husband who looked so young and handsome, with his tousled hair and open shirt.
She knew she was in danger of becoming maudlin again, and so broke out into a run.
Darcy chased after her.
“You cannot catch me, Fitzy!” she screamed over her shoulder, laughing as she went.
“Of course I can!” he screamed back, laughing. “I always do!”
She laughed some more, and ran harder. Soon, he would catch up to her as he always did. She anticipated that moment, even as she ran. A few seconds more, and he would be upon her…
Elizabeth stopped abruptly, then turned to face him - smiling into the brilliant sunlight.