Epilogue
Their honeymoon took them, inevitably, back to Lyme.
Elizabeth had laughed when the suggestion was first made and accused her husband of an inability to think of any other part of England. Darcy, with unusual honesty, had replied that he had very little desire to. Every important thing which had happened to him appeared to have happened there.
Mrs Makepeace received them with a degree of satisfaction which bordered upon insufferable. "I shall not say I told you so," she announced within ten minutes of their arrival.
"You said it four times before dinner," laughed Elizabeth.
Mrs Makepeace waved this aside. "That was different. I was speaking generally."
The guesthouse seemed smaller than Elizabeth remembered and yet more dear. The view from the windows remained as beautiful as ever and the parlour was just as cramped and fussy.
They had not travelled alone. Jane and Bingley occupied rooms along the corridor and appeared every bit as absurdly happy as newlyweds ought to be.
Bingley still looked at Jane as though somebody might unexpectedly remove her if he failed to keep watch for a moment.
Jane endured the attention with the same gentle amusement she had always shown him.
"I still think you knew," Elizabeth said one evening as the four of them sat together after supper.
"Knew what?" asked Jane.
"Everything."
Jane laughed. "I knew nothing, dearest. Only that we were all very happy here together."
"You knew he would return."
"I hoped he would."
"You knew he would propose."
"I hoped he would."
"You knew you would be happy."
At this Jane exchanged a glance with her husband.
???
Later that evening, when the others had retired, Elizabeth stood by the open window of their room and watched the moonlight lying silver across the harbour below.
The sounds of Lyme drifted faintly upwards from the street.
Somewhere a door closed. Somewhere else laughter carried briefly on the wind before disappearing into the night.
Strong arms settled around her waist.
She smiled immediately, "You are becoming predictable."
"I have discovered that I enjoy finding you."
His chin rested lightly against her shoulder and Elizabeth leaned back against him. For a little while neither spoke.
The quiet between them had changed since marriage. It no longer felt like the awkward pause between conversations. It felt instead like a conversation of its own, one built from familiarity and affection.
She turned within his embrace until she was facing him. The candlelight softened his handsome features. There were moments still when she found herself looking at him and wondering how she had ever persuaded herself she disliked him.
Whatever thought crossed her face seemed immediately apparent to him, for his expression gentled and he bent his head to press a kiss to her forehead.
Then another at her temple. Another against the curve of her cheek.
Elizabeth laughed softly as he continued his affectionate campaign, only for him to catch her smile with a kiss at the corner of her mouth.
"My love" he murmured.
The words, spoken so simply, touched her more deeply than the grandest declaration. There was no uncertainty in them now, no hesitation, no fear that either might be misunderstood. Only affection, settled and certain.
"I would never willingly be without you again."
The quiet sincerity of it stole her answer for a moment. At last she reached up and touched his face. "Nor I you."
Darcy looked at her with an expression she had come to know very well. Not admiration alone, though there was certainly admiration in it. Wonder, perhaps. Gratitude. As though some part of him still found it difficult to believe that she was truly there.
His hand rose to her shoulder and lingered there. The delicate fabric of her nightgown shifted beneath his touch. Slowly, almost reverently, he drew the sleeve down from her shoulder and bent his head to press a kiss there too.
Elizabeth felt his breath against her skin and closed her eyes. "Fitzwilliam."
The sound of his name seemed to undo him entirely.
"My wife," he said again, as though the words still possessed the power to astonish him.
She smiled and slipped her arms about his neck. He kissed her once more, lingeringly this time, and when they parted his eyes were dark with desire. Darcy's arm settled about her waist and, with a look that made her heart turn over, he gathered her effortlessly into his arms.
Elizabeth laughed in surprise. "Mr Darcy."
"Mrs Darcy."
"I am perfectly capable of walking."
He made no attempt to set her down.
She rested her head against his shoulder as he carried her across the room.
The candles flickered softly in their sockets, throwing warm pools of light across the walls, while beyond the open window the sea whispered against the shore below.
How strange it was, Elizabeth thought, that a man who had once seemed so formidable should have become the safest place in the world.
At the bedside he paused for a moment, looking down at her with an expression so full of tenderness that it stole her breath. Then, with infinite care, he set her upon the bed.
Elizabeth's fingers remained tangled in his as he settled himself beside her.
For a moment neither spoke. There seemed very little left to say.
The future, with all its joys and sorrows, stretched before them.
But for now there was only this quiet room, the distant sound of the sea and the comforting certainty of being together.
The curtains stirred gently in the night air. Somewhere below, a door closed and footsteps faded into silence.
Elizabeth smiled as Darcy drew her closer. The rest of the evening belonged entirely to them.