Epilogue

Three Years Later

A ll around Elizabeth, the Pemberley grounds bustled with activity. Children played on the lawn, townsfolk strolled, and people mingled on the blankets spread all around, eating and laughing.

She inhaled deeply, savouring the fresh air. The scent of the rose garden nearby punctuated the atmosphere. It was a beautiful day. The sun stood high in the sky, and birds chirped while the string quartet her husband had hired played on the stone porch. Leaning back, she pushed through the grass and looked up to where the sun poked through the leaves of the oak tree.

"I am so very excited. We shall have a little one around the same time," Anne, Fitzwilliam's cousin said with one hand on her as-yet flat stomach.

"Indeed," Elizabeth replied. "It is such a blessing that we will all have children close in age and live near one another." She smiled warmly. "I always wanted Georgiana to have cousins close to her own age. And now, with more children on the way, she will have plenty of playmates."

She looked over at Jane and Charles's three-year-old son Peter who was busy playing with Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam's daughter, Georgiana. Watching them was none other than Mrs Bennet, the proud grandmother, who was determined to keep the youngsters entertained. Elizabeth had to admit that her mother had indeed been born to be a grandmother. Without the strain of having to find husbands or worry about the future, she had fully embraced being a loving grandmother not only to Elizabeth's and Jane's children but also to Mary's. Elizabeth's sister Mary had had a baby a year ago and was expecting another soon, as was Kitty. The only sister yet to marry or have a child was Lydia, but even her rambunctious youngest sister was engaged.

Sometimes, it pained Elizabeth to be so far away from her mother and father, but she counted her blessings. They made it a point to travel north to stay either at Lockford Lodge, Jane's home, or Pemberley at least twice a year for several weeks at a time. In a way, the distance had improved her relationship with her mother, as she did not have to worry about her involving herself too much in Elizabeth's everyday affairs. The time they did spend together was generally pleasant, which was a blessing.

And of course, she had Jane nearby. Thanks to Fitzwilliam's assistance, Jane and Charles had managed to avoid purchasing the unfortunate property. It had been lucky indeed, because no sooner had they stepped away from buying it, than a portion of the roof had caved in. With Fitzwilliam's help, they found a much nicer location only half an hour's carriage ride away from Pemberley. The estate, Lockford Lodge, was almost as grand as Pemberley, and the close proximity meant Elizabeth could see her sister several times a week. Fitzwilliam and Charles's friendship flourished with their newfound nearness as well.

"This is such a wonderful summer tea party at Pemberley. My aunt and uncle used to have one every year. I never thought I would see it again," said Anne. Elizabeth smiled at her. Fitzwilliam's relationship with his cousins Anne and Richard had blossomed in the last few years and since Anne had married a Scottish laird and moved to Edinburgh, they saw her more often as well.

"It was Fitzwilliam's idea," Elizabeth said, shaking her head fondly as she looked at her husband standing a little distance away with Charles and Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.

"I truly thought he was lost to us forever," Anne said. Elizabeth noted the sadness in her voice. "I can see why. He was so withdrawn when first I met him."

"Yes, but then you came along," Anne continued, turning to Elizabeth. "You brought him back to us. I shall always be grateful to you for that." She squeezed Elizabeth's hand, and Jane beamed at her.

"Sometimes it seems like a bad dream," Jane added. "When he was so removed from the world."

Elizabeth didn't want to spoil the mood by saying that there were still days when Fitzwilliam would retreat into his melancholy and shut himself away for a few hours. However, those episodes were growing fewer, and she assumed that this bout of melancholy would always be a part of him. He had managed to control the accompanying mood swings much better than in the past, and they understood each other so well that she knew when he needed his space.

The birth of their daughter, Georgiana, named after her aunt, had brought him more joy than sorrow, and he hoped that with the birth of their second child, expected in the winter, his good days would only increase.

Pemberley had finally been rebuilt the year before. The space that had been Georgiana's had been turned into a gallery where family portraits, previously banished to the attic, were proudly displayed.

She knew that Fitzwilliam still struggled with his appearance. Whenever they went somewhere new, or where he hadn't been since before the fire, people would stare and whisper. Those in the village had grown accustomed to seeing him either at church or in town and only stared occasionally, but she knew he no longer took these stares to heart.

She barely noticed his scars at all. The only time his injuries impacted their lives was when there was a physical limitation to what he couldn't do. She knew he worried about having a son one day and being unable to teach him how to shoot a bow and arrow. It was something he had kept secret from her for far too long, but she knew it pained him.

Still, she knew that his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam and Charles would step in where he could not. Indeed, she had grown close to all of Fitzwilliam's cousins and their spouses and thought of them as family.

As for his other family, Fitzwilliam had made an effort to rebuild his relationship with his uncle, the Earl of Matlock, as well as his aunt, Lady Matlock. They were not particularly close, but as her husband said, they never had been. As for his aunt, Lady Catherine, he had not spoken to her, nor did he have any desire to. Likewise, Elizabeth was no longer in touch with her cousin, Mr Collins. She would hear what Lady Catherine or Mr Collins were up to by way of the frequent letters she wrote with Charlotte but that was it. Her friend always took great pains not to write too much about her husband, especially not since Elizabeth's father—with the help of Fitzwilliam—had broken the entailment on Longbourn.

"It is such a beautiful day," said Jane. "But pray, I haven't seen Mrs Dillinger."

Elizabeth shrugged. "She is staying with Mary. Her child is due any day, and she wanted to keep her company. In fact, if I get word that the child is due, I will have to leave." Elizabeth had grown closer and closer to both Mrs Dillinger and Mary and regarded them as firm friends these days.

"Well, let us hope the child will wait until this evening at least," Jane said. "

Elizabeth nodded. "You are quite right. If you will excuse me, I think I should join my husband."

She got up, her sister and cousin-in-law remaining on their blanket. Fitzwilliam stood with his friends, and he smiled and waved at her as she approached, squeezing her hand as she reached him, while Charles and Richard departed to give them their privacy.

"What a lovely celebration this is," Elizabeth said. "I am so very proud of you for arranging all of this."

"Well, I did not do it on my own. Mrs Potts was a big help. I do wish we saw her more often."

Mrs Potts had retired six months ago after training her replacement. They still visited the old lady quite regularly, but it was different from seeing her day to day. Still, Elizabeth knew that Mrs Potts was happy now, particularly since she and her husband—Mr Cogsworth who had also retired—could spend more time together. Their romance had surprised everyone, but looking at their smiling faces, it was clear that it was a blessing for them.

"Shall we walk a spell?" Fitzwilliam asked and proffered his arm. She took it and together, they made their way into the rose garden.

"Richard brings news," her husband began, his tone calm and reassuring. "About Wickham. He's been moved to Newgate Prison and is awaiting another trial, this time for defrauding a wine merchant."

Elizabeth sighed in relief. "That is good news. I was worried he might be released from prison soon and cause more trouble."

Fitzwilliam squeezed her hand gently. "You needn't worry, my love. There are many people looking to bring a case against Wickham. He will not be bothering us again. Nor will any of his friends. I hear another is being sent to the colonies."

Elizabeth smiled up at him, her eyes shining with gratitude. "I'm glad to hear it. We've had enough trouble because of them."

"I will say the one thing he did that can't be dismissed is plant the idea for a statue," Fitzwilliam conceded and Elizabeth was forced to agree. A statue had indeed been built in memory of those who perished in the Pemberley fire.

"It's a beautiful memorial, Fitzwilliam. I pause to look at it each Sunday at church. It honours their memory perfectly."

Fitzwilliam nodded, his expression thoughtful. "It was important to me that they be remembered. Their lives meant so much to us and to everyone who knew them. And just because it was Wickham's idea doesn't mean it wasn't one worthy of entertaining."

? "Indeed, he has done one good thing. And one could argue the new rectory is nicer than the one he managed to ruin."

Darcy smiled, pulling her close. "Indeed. Mr Kirkpatrick certainly seems to enjoy it. Life continues, stronger and better than before."

The air was thick with the scent of blooming roses, and the petals glistened with the evening dew. They found a secluded bench and sat down, enjoying the peaceful ambiance.

"Do you remember our first walk in this garden?" Fitzwilliam asked, his voice soft and filled with nostalgia.

Elizabeth laughed lightly. "How could I forget? You were so formal and reserved. I never imagined then that we would be here now, married and so in love."

He looked at her, his eyes filled with adoration. "You changed my life, Elizabeth. You brought light into the darkness and hope where there was despair."

Elizabeth blushed, her heart swelling with love. "And you, Fitzwilliam, showed me what true love is. You've been my strength, my confidant, and my greatest joy."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the beauty of the garden surrounding them. Then Fitzwilliam leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. "I love you, Elizabeth. More with each passing day."

Elizabeth turned to him, her eyes meeting his. "And I love you, Fitzwilliam. With all my heart."

They kissed, a tender and lingering kiss that spoke of their deep bond and unwavering devotion. As they pulled away, they remained close, their foreheads touching.

"We will face everything together," Fitzwilliam whispered, his voice filled with promise.

Elizabeth nodded, her smile radiant. "Together, always."

Hand in hand, they continued their walk through the rose garden, their hearts full of love and their future bright with endless possibilities. The past had tested them, but it had also strengthened their love, creating a bond that nothing could break. And as they walked, they knew they were ready to face whatever the future held, side by side, forever.

THE END