Epilogue

London, December 1817

Elizabeth lay in her bed a moment longer. She was alone, but her husband's scent and the warmth of his touches were still strong and clear in the bed and on every fibre of her body. He had woken up earlier, to tend to their guests and allow her more time to rest. He always did that; he always cared for her more than for himself.

They had enjoyed almost six years of pure bliss, in which she felt his ardent love, his affection, his regard, his tenderness every single day, every single hour. And every single day she woke up grateful for her good fortune.

She looked to his side of the bed and smiled, then touched his robe and his pillow. She loved everything about him, everything connected to him. More than anything, she loved their two children, the gifts of their bliss.

The young master Alexander was already five years old. He had inherited his father's handsome figure and his mother's joyful disposition. Their daughter Rose was only three months old, and she was the reason they had chosen not to travel to Pemberley for Christmas, as they did every year. Darcy was too protective of his family's safety to allow such a long journey with a young child in the winter.

That particular year, the number of guests had increased significantly, and, as large as the house was, it still felt a little crowded. Her father has claimed ownership of the library, as he did at Pemberley too, but he had even had to share that most of the time, as other people were passionate about books.

The Gardiners visited several times a week. Their children, now almost grown up, joined them. All their sisters were now happily married and had come with their husbands. Georgiana had married Lord Crawford that summer, a young gentleman of impeccable character who had needed to put in much effort to gain Mr Darcy's approval and blessing. Jane and Mr Bingley had a blissful marriage with two sons; Mary had married a teacher — of little means but with an exceptional education and strong character, which ensured him Mr Darcy's support. Kitty had married a clergyman — as different from Mr Collins as two people could be.

Lydia's inclinations towards the officers had vanished when she met a young lawyer, the nephew of one of Darcy's solicitors. She fell in love and married him, forgetting about her former favourite. She refused to admit her previous admiration for Mr Wickham — a man who had caused more harm than was first apparent. He had left the regiment with countless debts to his fellow officers and the local shopkeepers, and he had left at least two maids in Meryton carrying his children. Both of them were under Elizabeth Darcy's care and protection, as Darcy still believed it his duty to repair the damage wrought by the scoundrel. Three years ago, Mr Wickham had suddenly disappeared after a game of cards at an inn, and they had heard nothing of him ever since.

The only person Elizabeth told about Charlotte's encounter with Wickham was Darcy. And only with him did she discuss the news that Charlotte Collins had given birth to her first child seven months after her wedding. Mr Collins was exceedingly happy with his son and claimed it a miracle that he was born before his time in perfect health.

Elizabeth saw Charlotte and her husband but rarely. They mostly wrote to each other and only met when both happened to visit Meryton at the same time.

Darcy neither forgot nor forgave the clergyman's intervention that caused the quarrel with Lady Catherine, and he was required to make a great endeavour at civility to avoid a confrontation. A reconciliation with Lady Catherine never occurred, as Darcy demanded apologies that were never granted. And there were some more dramatic events that deepened the conflict, turning it into a real war.

In the summer of 1815, Anne de Bourgh arrived at Lord Matlock's house, asking for his support in moving to London after a terrible argument with her mother. Lady Catherine arrived at her brother's house once more, and the scandal reached the London papers. However, Anne did not return to Kent, and she slowly built a strong relationship with the viscount and Lady Cecilia, as well as with Darcy and Elizabeth.

Colonel Fitzwilliam married a young window — Lord Crawford's second cousin — a woman with equal beauty, spirit, wit, and money.

Only four months into their marriage, Elizabeth and Darcy found out that Lord Matlock had finally confessed the truth of his past to his sons. It had been a difficult time, as neither the viscount nor the colonel granted their father forgiveness and understanding for a long while. For almost a year, neither spoke to him. During that time, Lord Matlock seemed to have aged a decade. He travelled to Bath, a city he disliked, and rented a house there, watching his other children and their families from afar. His only comfort was in Mr Bennet and in Darcy and Elizabeth, to whom he confessed he was accepting the punishment for his crimes.

When the viscount's second child was born, he finally reconciled with his father, and the colonel renewed the connection soon after. In the summer of 1814, the whole extended family spent a month at Pemberley, then Lord Matlock and his family moved a few miles away, to the Matlock estate.

Lord Matlock remained firm in his decision not to reveal his identity to Julia Miller's children, in order to not disturb their lives. However, he watched over them from afar, content to see they were peaceful and comfortable. At times, he talked to Elizabeth and Darcy about what might happen if he revealed the truth to them, admitted his errors, and offered his support. Then, he quickly abandoned the idea again, yet it was clear he was still doubtful about his choice.

"My love, are you awake?" Elizabeth heard a whisper.

She opened her eyes and smiled at her beloved husband.

"No…I was just lost in dreams."

He leant towards her, kissed her face, and caressed her hair.

"Any particular dreams?"

"Many. I can well understand Mama when she said she is still waking in the middle of the night fearing that she was only dreaming and that I am not truly married to you."

"Yes, she has told me too, just as many times as she has embraced and kissed me." He laughed.

"I hope you do not mind," she teased him.

"I am already accustomed to it. Fortunately, she now has several grandchildren to kiss as well, and a few other sons."

"You are still her favourite, though."

"Of course I am. I am the one who is tall, handsome, and worth more than ten thousand a year," he jested, leaning closer to her.

She laughed, and he gently tasted her lips. "Surely you do not doubt the reality, Mrs Darcy," he whispered, his lips tantalising her ear.

"How could I, when I feel it all the time, Mr Darcy?" she replied breathlessly, moaning in his arms.

"Would you allow me to show you? Just to be sure?" he pleaded.

Her arms closed around him, pulling him closer. "I have no doubts about you, Mr Darcy, but more reassurance is always pleasant," she continued to whisper between kisses. "But are we not late? The guests? The children?"

"Everyone is well attended to, and everything is settled. And what is not can wait — unlike my passion and desire for you, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth," he concluded, his teasing, hoarse voice as intoxicating as his caresses. She knew he was right — he never gave her reason to doubt him. And her passion and desire perfectly matched his — everything else could wait a little longer.