Epilogue

EPILOGUE

One year later

To make the time of travail pass more quickly, Jane had recommended revisiting, in her mind, all the dearest moments from her first year of marriage. Thus Elizabeth—enormously round, exceedingly sweaty, and with white-hot pain twisting its way up into her abdomen—was attempting to do just that.

Their wedding had been as quiet an event as could be possible when one was related to anyone called Bennet. They married in London. Elizabeth wore a gown that was beautiful, and Darcy had looked so handsome it had taken her breath away. That had never really happened before, that particular lovestruck breathlessness, but it was a real condition, and it struck her hard, so much so that she had scarcely been able to speak her vows.

A deal had been struck between Darcy and his cousins after Bingley's wedding. He would not reveal to the rest of the men involved that the wager had been mostly farcical. Those who had bet on Fitzwilliam would be rightly outraged if they found out they had been deceived in the colonel's intentions, and his honour might have been seriously questioned. To avoid all such unpleasantness, Darcy insisted on half of the winnings. Saye grumbled a bit about that, but as he had made significant progress in courting Miss Goddard by then, he had grown inattentive to most anything else.

It did surprise Darcy to find that George Wickham, of all people, had wagered in his favour, but as Wickham took his winnings and went elsewhere, he did not think on it overmuch.

Darcy then promptly turned over the money—first in small but then in increasingly larger amounts—to Elizabeth's cousin Philips, to help him set up his business in town. Philips took the sums given and, although sometimes he lost a little, more often than not he gained, often quite substantially. Before a twelvemonth had passed, the name of her cousin's small firm was on everyone's lips, and they were beginning to have to turn away would-be investors—though Darcy asked for preference to be given to anyone who had lost money on the infamous wager. It was his own quiet way of redressing any unfairness or wrong against them.

Elizabeth had been deeply touched by his actions. He was a far more generous, more kindly man than she ever might have believed, to Philips as well as to her Gardiner relations. He had even remarked once—a bit indelicately—how different was Mr Gardiner from Mrs Bennet and Mrs Philips. Elizabeth had known exactly what he meant and not been offended.

After another time of agony, Elizabeth's thoughts drifted to her husband's family. She had expected a group of people similar to Lady Catherine de Bourgh. While that lady's brother, the Earl of Matlock, had much resembled her, his temperament was much more jovial. He was a man aware of his position but, like Lord Saye, determined to enjoy it to the fullest extent possible.

"You see how it is, Elizabeth," Saye had informed her at her first dinner with the family, when she had been married only a month. "They dance to my tune."

Elizabeth had replied by peering round the table. "They all seem to be sitting to me."

Saye had tutted. "Metaphor, madam. Charming things—they might have even heard of them in Hertfordshire. But my point remains. What Saye says goes, both at Matlock and beyond...and I have decided to like you."

It had made her laugh even if she had been somewhat irritated with him that night. She had overheard him speaking to his brother in the drawing room not half an hour earlier. He had said that Darcy was ‘a filthy animal' and would ‘have her increasing within the fortnight'. Fitzwilliam had said he thought she was likely with child already. Saye argued that no, Darcy would have done as he needed to prevent things, so as to have longer to enjoy her to himself. They were on the point of laying wagers when they caught sight of her and immediately walked off in different directions.

One year on, her marriage was far better than she ever might have imagined on that autumn night in Meryton, back in '11. Darcy was an attentive and loving husband—even now she could hear him outside the birthing room door, demanding that someone see to her comfort, someone make his baby come—and, as it turned out, one of the best men she knew. Nay— the best man she knew, bar none.

She continued in this way, her mind drifting around the happy scenes of the past twelvemonth, while her body was torn into shreds by the baby, until at last, just when it seemed she could bear no more, he was there.

"Lizzy!" Jane cried. "Oh, Lizzy, he is just lovely!"

Elizabeth felt benumbed both inside and out. Her legs and arms hardly even felt like her own as they were pushed and prodded back into some semblance of dignity on the bed. Her baby boy was swaddled in his blanket and placed within her arms. Jane was sent off to give the good news to the waiting men, who were there to calm Darcy and—Elizabeth suspected—collect bets on the gender of the child. Minutes later, pounding footsteps were heard and the door thrust open. The midwife, who had attended her throughout, startled and nearly dropped the basin she was holding.

Darcy looked boyish himself, his clothing rumpled and his hair disordered, likely from running his fingers through it. "Is this my son?" he asked, reverently approaching her bedside.

"Would you like to hold him?" Elizabeth's voice emerged weak and a bit croaky.

Darcy said not a word as he bent over and gently removed their child from her arms, then seated himself gingerly beside her. "He is perfect," he said, looking down at the wrinkled, red face. "Absolutely the most perfect child that ever was."

"Did you win?" she asked with as much of an impertinent smile as she could muster.

"Win?" He feigned confusion. "What do you mean, win?"

She gave him a disgusted look. "Disguise does not suit you, Mr Darcy, and we have an impressible child with us."

His eyes were soft when he looked at her. "Yes, I won. I won that autumn when I came into Hertfordshire and met a woman who taught me to be a better version of myself than I ever could have been without her. And I won when that woman permitted me a second chance to court her properly and when she accepted my offer of marriage. And I have won every single day since then, when I wake in the morning and see that no, this blessed life is not a dream but a reality." He leant over, still being cautious, and kissed her lips. "I love you."

His words made Elizabeth's heart warm, and she, rather needlessly, adjusted the baby's blanket. "I love you too—so very much," she murmured. Then with another smile, she said, "But pretty words aside—did you win the wager?"

"Thankfully, yes," he admitted with a chuckle. "Because I really would not have wanted to name our daughter after Saye."

The End