Chapter 49

Darcy and Georgiana spent Christmas at Larch Lane. Afterwards, the family from Romsley Hall, including a new viscountess, joined them. They were a merry bunch, and on New Year’s Eve, they celebrated the end of 1813 and beginning of 1814 with some of the Bingleys’ new neighbours, whom they had invited to an evening party.

The neighbours left in time to reach their homes before midnight, and Mrs Bingley immediately went to her chamber, saying she felt fatigued after the day. Bingley had escorted his wife upstairs with a promise to return shortly. Soon after, Georgiana said that she would follow Mrs Bingley’s example.

“Good night, Georgiana. You did very well tonight, and I am confident the new year will be a wonderful one for all of us.” Darcy kissed his sister on the top of her head and continued to watch her as she said a few words to those who had decided to remain in the drawing room.

The earl and countess also elected to retire, Lord Romsley saying, “We shall leave you foolish young people to stay up far too late for no greater reason than that, beginning tomorrow, we must all remember to write 1814 on our correspondence. I would much rather be warm and snug in my bed.”

There was general laughter, and Lady Romsley said, “I do not disagree with you, but you do make yourself sound like an old dullard.”

“Dullard?” he said, feigning offence.

Georgiana quietly laughed. “She is teasing you, Uncle.”

That was obvious to all, including the earl, but he made a point of tucking Georgiana under his arm, thanking her, and requesting she explain how she had spotted his wife’s cruel trick as he led both her and the countess out of the room.

Darcy smiled, his gaze remaining on the door. It had been an agreeable evening, and having met some of the Bingleys’ neighbours, he was even more pleased for them than he had been previously. Larch Lane was an excellent estate, and despite having lived there a short time, Mrs Bingley—Jane—had done an excellent job making the house comfortable and attractive. Elizabeth had assisted her, and he anticipated her creating the same cosy atmosphere at Pemberley once she was its mistress.

“What has you so distracted, Darcy?” Fitzwilliam called from the sofa across from him.

“I would have said he was pining for Elizabeth, but she is sitting next to him,” Bramwell said.

“Do you think he forgot?” Fitzwilliam asked, his tone and expression mock-serious.

Bramwell guffawed. “Possibly. He has always been a stupid?—”

“Oh stop, both of you!” Rebecca cried.

“Thank you,” both he and Elizabeth said at the same time.

“Rebecca, you always have been my favourite cousin, and this confirms it.” Darcy stood and held out a hand to Elizabeth. “Shall we take a walk?”

“Yes, please.” Her hand in his, she too rose.

“Where do you intend to go at this time of night?” the colonel said.

“Anywhere away from you will do.” Elizabeth smiled sweetly at Fitzwilliam.

To Darcy’s great pleasure—and relief—not only had his friendship with his cousin been restored, so had Elizabeth’s. It had been easier for Fitzwilliam and him to set aside their disagreement, but Elizabeth had been as determined to forgive him as he was to earn her forgiveness. Elizabeth had once told Darcy that she had two very good incentives to establish an easy affinity with Fitzwilliam. The first was Georgiana; she did not want her to worry that her beloved cousin and future sister-in-law were at odds. The second was Darcy himself. Elizabeth knew they had long been close friends, and she wanted him to have that connexion again.

Every day, it seemed that he found another reason to appreciate and adore her, another something he could point to and say, “That is why she is the only woman I could ever love.”

His three cousins laughed at Elizabeth’s tease, and Rebecca said, “Please do not let my brother-in-law and husband frighten you away with their horrendous manners.” She turned to Bramwell. “At least let her marry him before you call him stupid. What if she believed you and cried off?”

“You are just afraid you would lose your friend, my love.” Bramwell kissed her hand.

“Please take me away from them,” Darcy said to Elizabeth.

“Very well.” To Rebecca, she added, “We shall return soon.”

Elizabeth and he walked through the house, and she described the Bingleys’ intention to begin a collection of art and books, to create a legacy for their children.

“I believe Bingley is taking his inspiration from Pemberley, although Jane rightly reminds him that hoarding books is a Bennet family trait as well. Jane may not be as much of a reader as I am, and I doubt Lydia will ever voluntarily pick up a book, but Mary takes great comfort in them, and my father tells me Kitty is growing to as well,” Elizabeth said.

“Is she?” To Darcy, the second youngest Miss Bennet had always appeared rather empty-headed.

“She is. To his credit, my father has been insisting she learn to be more serious, and it appears to be working.”

Another time, he would ask whether she would like to invite either of her unmarried sisters to stay, whether in Derbyshire or London. They would have to ensure Georgiana was comfortable with the prospect, but she might like to befriend them.

After wandering for a while, they stood by a window in a smaller sitting room, looking out to the park. It was too cold to go out of doors, as evidenced by the frost on the glass. The night looked peaceful, and the sky was covered by a plethora of stars. The only light in the room was from the silver candlestick he had brought with them.

“It must be almost midnight.” Elizabeth spoke softly.

She pulled her wool shawl more tightly against her. Darcy wound an arm across her shoulders to share his warmth and kissed her temple.

“It is almost 1814. The year I finally make you my wife,” Darcy said.

Elizabeth made a happy chirping sound. “The year I finally make you my husband.”

They both turned so that they were facing each other. Darcy placed a tender kiss on her lips, restraining his impulse to pull her close and demonstrate how much he was anticipating their wedding, but he admitted it would be easy to go too far, given the stillness and darkness of the room and how long and deeply he had loved her.

“And it is the year I become an aunt and you an uncle,” she said.

“One I can, at last, begin without feeling a dark, stormy cloud hanging over our heads.”

Elizabeth covered his cheek with her warm hand and gifted him a soothing kiss, her lips soft and tasting of the wine she had been drinking earlier. “Remember my love, whatever transpires with Georgiana, or anything else in your life, you will not have to confront it alone. I shall always be by your side to share the burden.”

Darcy embraced her. The desire to hold her, to feel her body pressed to his, was too great to overcome. She rested her head on his chest, and her arms wrapped around his waist. They stood like this for some time as he contemplated the import of her words. He was not alone any longer. They had been through rough weather these last years, and it had strained some of their relationships, none more than his and Fitzwilliam’s.

His connexion with Lady Catherine had fared worse, but she and her daughter did not matter. She had not apologised for going to Longbourn and confronting Elizabeth or for telling Georgiana of his intentions to marry her. Georgiana had told him more of that dreadful day, and it—along with the disgusting letter Lady Catherine had written to him upon learning of his engagement—had meant the end of his connexion to the de Bourghs.

“Where do you think we shall be next New Year’s Eve?” Elizabeth asked.

He kissed the top of her head and took a moment to contemplate. “At Pemberley, perhaps standing by a window as we are now and taking in a similar view. We shall speak of the year that has passed—the joys and, if we are fortunate, lack of sorrow—and our wishes for 1815. We might already be anticipating a child.”

“I hope we are,” she whispered.

“In the end, all that truly matters to me is that we shall be together.”

“Just as we were always meant to be.”

Elizabeth lifted her chin to gaze up at him, and he looked down into her beloved face and kissed her.

The beginning of the new year was both quiet and busy. Darcy and Georgiana continued to come to Larch Lane when the winter weather permitted, and Jane insisted Elizabeth go to Pemberley to stay with Georgiana while Darcy was in Manchester visiting an old friend of his father’s, whose health was failing. Thus, Elizabeth went to her soon-to-be home and spent an agreeable week with Georgiana, who was steadily growing stronger.

“I do not know what it is or how it has come about, but I do feel so much lighter,” Georgiana said to her one afternoon. They were enjoying tea and shortbread after discussing how one of the principal rooms should be renovated. “I can hardly believe that a year ago even the thought of seeing you made me afraid. Now, I wish you and my brother were already married so that you would not have to return to Larch Lane. I am trying very hard not to apologise for my past behaviour because I know you will tell me I need not.”

“You are exactly right. I cannot express how glad I am to see you so well—or how delighted I am that the wedding will be soon.” Elizabeth smiled warmly at her, and both ladies laughed. “To be serious, as much as your brother and I long to be married, I am glad we waited as we have. All of us—not just you—are happier now.” She did not want to say outright that she was more confident in Georgiana’s acceptance, but that was a significant part of it. The young woman had made remarkable progress and was determined to maintain the daily habits that seemed to contribute to her well-being. Between that and being embraced by Darcy’s relations, Elizabeth would enter her new life as his wife free of the anxieties she would have had previously.

Mrs Annesley would remain with her after the wedding; it was Georgiana’s request, not because she did not trust or want Elizabeth to keep her company and support her but because Mrs Annesley provided a different sort of assistance as she fought to maintain her well-being. Since Mrs Annesley was a pleasant, intelligent woman, Elizabeth had no objections, and it went without saying that Darcy would agree to anything his sister said she required to be healthy.

On the seventeenth of March, Jane presented her husband with a daughter, who, despite her young age, showed every promise that she shared her mother’s beauty and both her mother and father’s affable characters. Mr and Mrs Bennet, Mary, and Kitty arrived at Larch Lane a fortnight later to meet Miss Frances Elizabeth Bingley. As Elizabeth had expected would be the case, her mother was beside herself with joy at seeing Larch Lane and meeting her granddaughter, and when she saw Pemberley, she was almost too shocked to speak, quietly whispering to Elizabeth that she could not believe her daughter would live in such a place.

Then, a week after Easter—and two years from Darcy’s first proposal—Elizabeth married her Mr Darcy on what was undoubtedly the happiest day of her life.

When they were alone in the carriage after the ceremony, driving back to Larch Lane for the wedding breakfast, she said, “I have you now, and I have no intention of ever letting you go.”

Darcy chuckled and let out a relieved sigh. As he gathered her into his arms and lowered his mouth to hers for a kiss, he said, “I assure you, my darling, most beautiful Mrs Darcy—how I like calling you that!—I will never, never be parted from you again.”