Epilogue

EPILOGUE

August 1827

E lizabeth leant against the carriage window and watched as her view of Windward House and the sea retreated into the distance. Her husband, seated next to her, put his arm round her.

"Homesick already, my love?" he asked, lightly kissing the top of her head.

"You know perfectly well who my home is, Fitzwilliam. If you speak of houses, Pemberley is our home, and I would never change that. Much as I love Windward House, it is not our true home, but it is our play-ground. I treasure our holidays there."

The Darcys, with their five children, had reluctantly concluded a long summer holiday, and their small caravan of carriages was travelling north. The children and their nursemaids rode in the large coach rumbling behind their parents' smaller, more fashionable, carriage.

"It was lovely, was it not?" Elizabeth sighed.

Darcy snorted at her. "If you like noisy, dirty children traipsing sand indoors and carrying seashells, rocks, feathers, and seaweed into the house all day."

She scoffed. "I do like it, and you do as well. You cannot fool me. Why, only last week I watched you help Tommy and George drag a barnacled old tree limb out of the water. You sat on the sand almost every afternoon with Alice and Maddie, digging holes with their little buckets and trowels."

"And you worked with Janie on her drawings for hours."

Since their marriage, the Darcys had spent at least one holiday a year in their house facing the sea, especially near the anniversary of their marriage. As their children arrived, they were brought along. Over the years they had developed a preference for a simpler type of holiday. Removed from their great responsibilities as master and mistress of Pemberley, they could simply be together: he and she, husband and wife, Papa and Mama. They brought no servants from Pemberley or London but sent for nursemaids to attend the children when it was time to travel. They had Agueda and Youssef, and they could bring down additional servants if needed.

They ate and dressed simply and spent long lazy days in the garden and at the cove. They sailed whenever the weather permitted, flew kites, built sandcastles, and took long walks on the shore. The children grew brown as berries, roaming freely and playing with Samuel, the son of Agueda and Youssef. They picked out songs on the guitar. On warm nights they brought bedrolls to the balcony and looked at the stars with Grandfather Bennet's telescope until they fell asleep.

Besides Agueda's Samuel, the Newfields also had a Samuel, as did the Leonards and the Dunbars. Their own son George bore the full name of George Samuel Bancroft Darcy. For a man who never had a child of his own, his namesakes were scattered across England.

"How fortunate we are, Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth said softly. "My heart overflows with gratitude for our family. All our families."

"Aye, mine as well," Darcy said. They leant against each other, relaxing to the rhythm and sway of the well-sprung carriage.

"Someday, when we are at Windward House, I should like to tell the children the story of how I found the lover's eye," mused Darcy. "They are too young now."

"Yes," Elizabeth agreed. "And how you found me and captured my heart. They will discover that their sober, dignified papa is a great romantic."

Settled in the circle of his arms, she continued, "Here is my someday plan, dearest. Someday I shall take you on a voyage around the world, and we shall have another great adventure."

"I shall hold you to that," her husband replied as they rumbled down the road towards their future and whatever adventures it would bring.