Epilogue A New Tradition
The Bennets descended upon Netherfield that afternoon to celebrate.
Caroline Bingley, who had steeled herself for one engagement announcement, went gray at the news of two. She muttered something about “rustic impropriety” and fled to the breakfast nook.
No one missed her.
During the festivities, Lydia climbed onto a chair and declared mistletoe a Bennet family tradition forever. “Next Christmas will be mine,” she announced, “I have mastered the trick of it for certain!”
Mr. Darcy leaned close to Elizabeth's ear. “I find myself exceedingly grateful for harmless sprigs of parasitic greenery.”
“As am I,” she replied. “They have brought us quite good fortune.”
“More than fortune.” His voice dropped lower. “They brought me you.”
As evening fell, Mr. Darcy asked Elizabeth to walk with him.
They slipped outside into the snow-covered garden, the windows of Netherfield glowing warm behind them. He led her to a small archway where a forgotten sprig of mistletoe hung overhead, its white berries gleaming in the lantern light.
“It seems we cannot escape it,” Elizabeth said.
“I no longer wish to.” He drew her close. “May I?”
She answered by rising on her toes and kissing him. His arms wrapped around her as snow fell softly around them, and Elizabeth thought she had never known such perfect happiness.
When they finally separated, Mr. Darcy pressed his forehead to hers.
“There could be no more perfect Christmas than this,” she whispered.
“No,” he agreed. “Though I intend to spend every Christmas hereafter trying to match it.”
Elizabeth laughed, joy bubbling up from somewhere deep inside her.
The tradition had begun.
And they would honor it, she decided, every Christmas for the rest of their lives.
THE END
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