CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The journey to Longbourn, undertaken a month after their return from the north, was completely unlike the one that had first brought Elizabeth to Pemberley.
The carriage was now filled with the easy murmur of their conversation.
They spoke of everything and nothing — of poetry he thought she might enjoy, of the healing land they passed, of the places they wished to travel to now that the world was their own to explore.
Darcy’s hand rested easily in hers, his thumb tracing idle patterns over hers as they talked.
The hedgerows shimmered with a healthy magic, and the great oaks that dotted the landscape seemed to sing a steady song to Elizabeth’s senses. The hum of the world, for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, was right again.
As their carriage finally turned onto the gravel drive of her old home, the sight of Longbourn overwhelmed her, and she felt the hot sting of happy tears behind her eyes.
Their arrival sent Longbourn into its customary state of happy chaos. Mrs Bennet swept out of the house in a flurry of exclamations, her anxieties of old entirely replaced by a triumphant joy.
“Lizzy! My dearest girl! And Mr Darcy! How excellent you look!” she cried, her voice carrying across the drive as she enveloped Elizabeth in a hug, before turning a beaming gaze upon her son-in-law.
“We have heard the most astonishing stories! Surely there must be some great reward for such a service. Have you heard from Court, sir? A knighthood at the very least, I should think! Oh, how well ‘Lady Darcy’ would sound!”
Darcy bore the effusive greeting with a fortitude Elizabeth could only admire, and responded with solemn courtesy. He caught Elizabeth’s eye over Mrs Bennet’s shoulder, a flicker of affectionate amusement passing between them.
Mary, Kitty, and Lydia descended upon them next, the latter two chattering with excitement, their questions a breathless cascade of London fashions, the grandeur of Pemberley, and most importantly, whether Mr Darcy knew any eligible lords.
Mr Bennet emerged last. He bypassed the noisy group surrounding Darcy and came directly to Elizabeth, his gaze searching hers. Seeing the undisguised happiness there, he nodded slightly.
Then, pitching his voice lower so his words were heard only by her, he glanced over at his beleaguered son-in-law and said, “On the day we were summoned to hear of…your most unconventional betrothal, I observed your Mr Darcy’s reaction to the mention of any affection entering the arrangement. It was rather fascinating.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, a questioning smile on her lips.
“I suspected then,” he continued, his eyes twinkling, “that this alliance had the potential to become a great deal more entertaining than most.” He paused, his expression softening with a rare, undisguised warmth, before continuing, “I must commend you, Lizzy. The outcome has exceeded all my expectations.”
“I am glad my marriage has become such a satisfactory source of amusement for you, Papa,” she said, laughing.
“I will simply say that a truly happy man is the rarest of sights. But a happy daughter is the greatest of treasures.”
The unexpected sincerity of his words touched her so deeply it almost brought tears to her eyes. She squeezed his hand, unable to form a reply. Her father, sensing her emotion, gave a small nod and then, as if to save her from her own sentimentality, his teasing glint returned.
“However,” he said, his gaze flicking pointedly towards the house, “you have been away so long, perhaps you no longer recognise a full complement of Bennet sisters. Does this number seem correct to you?”
Elizabeth blinked, pulled from her reverie. He was right. Amidst the joyful pandemonium, her gaze searched the crowd for the one face she most longed to see. “Where is Jane?” she wondered.
“In the drawing room,” Mr Bennet said.
The words, and her father’s curious air, were enough to pique Elizabeth’s curiosity. Darcy offered her his arm as they entered the house. The drawing room door was ajar, and as they approached, Elizabeth felt a shimmering, joyful magic, the same she had first felt at the Meryton assembly.
Elizabeth’s steps faltered. Through the open doorway, she saw him. Seated opposite her sister, his expression one of open adoration, was Mr Bingley.
She stopped dead, her heart giving a sharp jolt. Mr Bingley. Here. After all this time. Her gaze flew to Darcy, a silent question in her eyes.
Jane looked up then, her serene expression breaking into a radiant smile. She rose and hurried to Elizabeth, taking both of her hands. The soft light of her magic seemed to glow from her, a warmth of pure happiness.
“Oh, Lizzy!” she breathed, her eyes shining with tears. “I know it was unpardonably unkind of me not to be at the door to welcome you home, but just this once, I wanted to be selfish. I did not wish to share this moment with anyone else until I had shared it with you.”
“You could have waited until dinner to greet me and I would not have minded in the least!” Elizabeth exclaimed, her eyes moving between her sister’s glowing face and Mr Bingley’s blissfully happy one. “Now, pray do not keep me in suspense a moment longer.”
Jane squeezed Elizabeth’s hands. “We are engaged!”
At first, Elizabeth could only stare, the overwhelming joy washing over her. Then, a laugh of delight escaped her. She pulled her dearest sister into a hug, tears of happiness streaming down her own cheeks. “Jane! Oh, my dearest Jane! I am so happy for you.”
Releasing her sister, Elizabeth turned to Mr Bingley, her own smile as radiant as Jane’s. “Mr Bingley, I am overjoyed. You have made my sister the happiest of women, and I can wish for nothing more.”
Mr Bingley, his own face alight with a pleasure so sincere it was almost boyish, took her offered hand.
“Mrs Darcy, I can only hope to be deserving of her.” He hesitated for a moment, a charmingly hopeful look in his eyes.
“May I be so bold? Jane always speaks of you as Lizzy. Now that we are to be family, might I have the privilege of addressing you so?”
“You must, of course!” Elizabeth said, “And in turn, you must be Charles to me.”
Darcy stepped forward then, clasping Mr Bingley on the shoulder. “It is as it should be, Bingley. I am glad of it.”
Dinner that evening at Longbourn was an affair of such easy cheer it felt almost surreal. With Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley both at her table, Mrs Bennet was in a state of unparalleled bliss, and the room was filled with contentment and laughter.
It was Lydia, naturally, who began it, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she addressed Darcy. “Mr Darcy, would you believe that Lizzy once caused it to rain inside the drawing room? It ruined Mama’s best lace tablecloth!”
“I should readily believe it,” replied Darcy gravely.
“An entire downpour!” Kitty added, giggling. “Mrs Long looked as though she had been dunked in a river.”
Elizabeth groaned, though she could not suppress a smile. “It was a very small shower, barely even a sprinkle.”
“It also ruined my copy of Letters on the Improvement of the Mind,” Mary said.
“Mary, Lizzy apologised and replaced it,” said Jane, in her usual gentle manner.
“Your focus is on the material restitution,” Mary said with a slight frown, “My observation was on the act that necessitated the apology. They are not the same.”
Mr Bennet, who had been observing the scene with satisfaction, took a sip of his wine. “I recollect the incident with some fondness. It was, I believe, the only one of your mother’s tea parties to conclude in under three hours. A remarkable achievement.”
This seemed to open the floodgates. Kitty and Lydia immediately began talking over one another, a chorus of “And remember when she — !” and “Oh, but the worst was when — !” as they recounted a litany of Elizabeth’s most unforgivable crimes against sisterhood.
Elizabeth met each charge with a playful retort, as Jane protested gently and Mr Bingley added his own good-natured attempts to change the subject.
Elizabeth chanced a glance at her husband, expecting to see him wearing a mask of polite tolerance. Instead, she was met with a look of wry merriment. He was listening to the tales with rapt attention, a smile spreading across his face as he caught her eye.
A familiar squall of bickering suddenly erupted between Kitty and Lydia over some perceived slight, their voices rising in overlapping cadence.
As the sounds of accusation and denial filled the air, Darcy turned to Elizabeth under the cover of the din.
He leaned in, his own lips twitching with amusement, and whispered, “I find my list of your accomplishments continues to grow, Mrs Darcy.”
She shot him a look of mock indignation, but the warmth in her heart was a radiant thing. To be here, surrounded by her family, with the man she loved at her side, sharing in the joyful tumult of her past, was a happiness more complete than any she had ever dared to imagine.
Later, after the initial revelry had subsided, Elizabeth found her husband alone in her father’s library, gazing out the window at the great oak, its branches now covered with the hopeful green of new life. She came to stand beside him, wrapping her arm around his waist.
“This happy outcome was your work, I must presume,” she said softly.
Darcy turned to her, his expression one of quiet contrition. “Most, I assure you, was a credit to Bingley’s own efforts to regain your sister’s trust. My small part in it does not signify.”
“I believe you to be the best of men, William,” she said, rising on her toes to press a kiss to his lips, a kiss filled with all the appreciation and love her heart could hold.
He held her close, his arms now a cherished, welcome haven. “My only ambition has been to become a man worthy of you.”
They stood together in the library, the familiar scent of old books and ink wrapping around them. Outside, the great Longbourn oak, which had once hummed with the wrongness of a dying world, now sang a deep, vibrant, and harmonious song.
“When we return to Pemberley,” he murmured, “I am of a mind to see its rooms filled with a different sort of life, perhaps one that brings a measure of unruliness that Pemberley has not known for some years.”
Elizabeth’s eyes danced. “I should like that very much,” she said.
And as he kissed her again, under the benevolent gaze of the healing oak, Elizabeth knew that their magical entanglement had at last become a perfect, and everlasting, bond.
THE END