Epilogue
Pemberley, seven months later
Pemberley was more full of joy than it had been in many years, Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper, declared and Lady Matlock approved.
The first Christmas hosted by Mr. and Mrs. Darcy was a gathering of a large party of their reunited families: the Matlocks, the Bennets, the Gardiners and the Bingleys—including the sisters, still vexed by the tragic turn of events that had made Mr. Darcy marry Eliza Bennet and their brother marry Jane.
Both Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were beside themselves with pride and joy at visiting their daughter, but for utterly different reasons. Mr. Bennet appreciated Elizabeth’s obvious growth in knowledge, strength and determination, as well as her husband and his extraordinary library.
Mrs. Bennet appreciated her son-in-law and everything related to him that placed her above all her acquaintances.
Lady Catherine never forgave Elizabeth and Darcy.
She wrote several furious letters to her brother, Lord Matlock, and several other relatives.
Eventually, Lord Matlock—at the colonel’s suggestion—replied to her that it was entirely her own fault that Darcy had married Miss Bennet, because she kept insulting the lady and blamed her most undeservedly, forcing Darcy to do his duty of honour.
Kitty, Mary and Lydia all benefited from the guidance of their eldest sisters and of the friendship of Miss Georgiana Darcy, who, in exchange, had borrowed some joy and liveliness from them.
Elizabeth and Darcy attended their every guest’s news and wishes, sharing their happiness with them.
It was the first year that Mrs. Darcy renewed a Pemberley tradition—to host a large party for all the tenants and the families in Lambton.
Mrs. Gardiner was her most reliable helper, as she proudly called herself Mrs. Darcy’s aunt.
Everything that the late Mrs. Darcy had accomplished on her estate, was successfully brought back to life by the new Mrs. Darcy—whose lack of experience was compensated by her kindness, generosity and wit.
Quite often, Colonel Fitzwilliam teased Darcy about his reluctance to marry Elizabeth. He confessed that he had long guessed Darcy’s preference for Miss Elizabeth’s sparkling eyes and was content that a most unfortunate and distressing happenstance led to such a happy ending.
“My love, I have a gift for you,” Elizabeth told her husband, three days before Christmas. It was almost midnight, and they were lying in bed, exhausted by their shared passion.
“I have a gift for you too. In fact several,” Darcy said, holding her in his arms. Their bodies were still naked and every move turned into a torturous pleasure.
“Yes, but mine must be offered in privacy.”
She leaned over him towards the drawer by the bed, her skin brushing over his, and her hair tickling his torso. She picked up a pile of papers, all written upon.
Darcy glanced at her, then at the papers, puzzled, and quickly placed a kiss on her bare shoulder.
“Are these my papers?” he asked, although he could see they were not.
“No. of course not. Yours are where you put them six months ago. I read them, but as much as I enjoyed your writing, your actions are more eloquent. What you have shown me every day since we married is much more exciting,” she teased him.
“That is because you are much more exciting in person than you were in my imagination, Mrs. Darcy. But I am happy to have your approval, nevertheless.”
They shared another kiss, long, deep, passionate.
“So, what are these?” Darcy enquired eventually, breathless.
“My letters to you, Mr. Darcy. You once told me that you were still uncertain of my feelings for you, and I also had my doubts and fears. So I wrote everything here, every time I had something to share. Since the day we married till today. My soul, my thoughts, my fears, my joy, my life with you.”
Emotions overwhelmed Darcy until they left him speechless. He took the letters and glanced at them, then took his wife’s hands and kissed them.
“I will read them, my love, although any doubt or uncertainty has long vanished for me. But I will gladly read them,” he said wholeheartedly.
He began looking through the papers, but Elizabeth suddenly pulled them from his hand and threw them back in the drawer.
“But not now, Mr. Darcy. This is not a time for words, spoken or written,” she declared, then blew out the candle.
Darcy did not contradict her, happily closing his arms around her.
Almost from the beginning of their acquaintance, he had decided to never suspend any pleasure or desire of hers. And he was determined to remain loyal to his resolution.