Epilogue 2
Elizabeth stood upon the terrace at Pemberley and watched Charles Bingley being overwhelmed by his own children.
He had begun the morning by laying out very seriously the rules of a game of his own invention.
He had laid out hoops on the lawn, selected bats and a selection of brightly coloured balls and stood looking at his own invention with some satisfaction.
Then a group of small savages descended on him and chaos ensued.
His eldest daughter now clung to his back, kicking her heels against his coat and demanding that Papa gallop.
His son had abandoned the field of play entirely and was running towards the lake with two balls clasped in his chubby hands, while the youngest attempted a series of uncertain roly-polies through the grass, knocking the hoops out of alignment one by one.
Charles turned in a slow circle, trying to keep his daughter from sliding over his shoulder while calling after his son and narrowly avoiding the small pair of heels rolling towards his boots.
"Jane," he cried, "I believe I require assistance."
Jane, seated beneath an ancient oak with the baby asleep in a cradle beside her, was laughing too much to provide any.
The commotion immediately attracted more children.
Elizabeth’s eldest son, William, came charging across the lawn with a wooden sword raised above his head and announced that he would rescue Uncle Charles.
One of Louisa’s boys followed with another hoop, which he attempted to throw over Charles’ head, while his younger sister seized one of the bats and began striking at balls, scattering them with violent glee.
Charles staggered beneath the combined assault, his daughter still clinging to his back and urging him to gallop faster, before finally losing his balance and sinking into the grass beneath a tangle of small arms and legs.
"Parodi!" he called, laughing helplessly. "I believe I may require a physician."
Thomas looked over from beneath the oak, where he was occupied with binding the grazed knee of a solemn dark-eyed toddler. Caroline knelt beside him, holding the child’s leg steady while Thomas wound a strip of linen around it carefully.
"You must wait your turn, brother," Caroline called back. "This very important patient was here first." She bent down and gave the toddler a quick kiss on the nose, making him giggle.
The dark haired toddler nodded slowly, plainly satisfied with the importance of his condition.
Elizabeth smiled as Charles attempted to rise and was immediately pulled back into the grass. His fair hair was loose over his forehead, his neckcloth was crooked and one small shoeprint was clearly visible on the front of his waistcoat.
A pair of arms slid around her waist from behind. Elizabeth leaned back instinctively, recognising Darcy before he spoke. His chest was warm against her shoulders, and when he bent his head, his mouth brushed lightly against her temple.
"What has Bingley done now?" he asked.
"He attempted to impose order upon any of our unruly children."
Darcy looked across the lawn, letting out his low chuckle. "Then he invited his own defeat. I sometimes think we should put them in a menagerie and charge the public a penny apiece to witness their antics. They are always a whirlwind of mischief when they are together."
"Charles is just as bad. If they belong behind bars, then so does their uncle."
She turned within his arms, resting her hands against his chest. "Though I believe I saw one Mr Darcy of Pemberley galloping across this very lawn yesterday with two children upon his back and a third clinging to his leg."
"I was ambushed," Darcy said with dignity. "There were three of them, and once the smallest had taken hold of my coat there was very little I could do."
Elizabeth’s eyes danced. "Very little, except drop to all fours and neigh quite convincingly.
" She laughed, and Darcy’s answering smile softened his whole face.
Five years of marriage had not made the sight any less dear to her.
He was still grave enough to intimidate strangers and proud enough to pretend he had never been brought to his knees by a nursery full of children, but she knew the man who allowed small hands to pull at his hair and solemnly accepted wooden swords and handkerchief dolls as gifts of the highest consequence.
"Perhaps we ought not to mock Charles too severely," she said. "You may shortly find yourself even more thoroughly outnumbered."
Darcy’s brows drew together. "More thoroughly?"
Elizabeth took one of his hands from her waist and placed it low against her stomach. Nothing had altered there yet, and her gown concealed the secret entirely, but she watched understanding slowly dawn across his face.
For once, Fitzwilliam Darcy appeared to have no words at all.
"Elizabeth," he said at last, drawing out her name with reverence.
"How can I deserve so much joy?" His gaze dropped to where his hand rested before returning to her face.
The delight in his expression appeared slowly, wonder softening into a smile so full of happiness that her own eyes began to sting. "Are you certain?"
"Quite certain. This is the third time I have been through this particular experience with all of its joyful and not-so-joyful moments"
Darcy gave a breathless laugh and drew her closer, his hand remaining protectively over hers. "You are happy?"
"Very, my love."
He bent and kissed her, tenderly at first, though the kiss deepened almost at once and Elizabeth quite forgot that they were standing upon an open terrace before an audience of their family and friends.
The first cheer came from Charles. It was quickly taken up by the children, who had no notion what they were applauding but were always delighted by noise.
Within moments, a small crowd had gathered below, clapping and calling encouragement while Jane attempted, without much success, to restore some measure of decorum.
Elizabeth drew back, laughing and breathless, but Darcy only tightened his arm about her waist. "You do realise they are all watching us," she murmured.
"I had noticed. I find I do not care."
Before she could answer, he swept one arm more securely around her and dipped her backwards with such sudden confidence that another roar rose from the lawn.
Elizabeth gave a startled cry and clutched at his shoulders as he kissed her again, longer this time and with very little regard for the dignity of either of them.
When he finally drew her upright, her face was burning and Charles was applauding with his hands above his head while Thomas was whistling loudly through his fingers to the delight of the children. Elizabeth looked up at him, still breathless. "You have quite ruined your reputation for dignity."
Darcy smiled and drew her closer. "Then I shall have to console myself with happiness."