Epilogue

“G ood morning, Mrs Darcy!” Fitzwilliam greeted her, offering her a bunch of the first autumn flowers.

She glanced at him, still sleepy and devoid of a smile. But he had grown accustomed to his wife’s mornings. It took her a few moments to take in the sight of their beautiful bedroom and recall that she was in the loving presence of her husband at Pemberley.

Despite continuing to endure terrible dreams, the doctor reassured them that they would lessen over time, and each time they troubled her, he was there to embrace her, dispelling her fears and pains.

As she stretched her graceful arms, shutting her eyes, he could not help but adore every gesture, every movement, and every gaze she made—the way her body swayed in his arms when they joined in love, her furrowed brow when she was angry, her tenderness, and her concern. He had to avow that he had never imagined happiness could be so complete and overwhelming.

“Are you happy?” he asked her.

“I am hungry,” she replied, finally grinning as he helped her into her dressing-gown.

“You are cruel. Your husband brings you flowers and awaits a token of love, yet you remain melancholic.”

“Do you regret marrying me?” she questioned, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Absolutely! I expected so much more from my wife.”

“What do I fail to provide, Mr Darcy?” she asked, nestled in his arms, and he found it to be a difficult question. As he caressed her body, he could not recall what he lacked in their marriage.

“You refused to swim.” An hour later, during breakfast, he recollected,

“That could be resolved by a patient husband,” she teased. “You could have said I do not ride—now that is a grave mistake.”

“No!” he exclaimed, genuinely concerned. “I am grateful for that flaw of yours. Seeing you on a horse would have driven me to madness. I prefer you on foot. In the park. No woods for Mrs Darcy.”

“Are you happy?” she suddenly asked, then chuckled as he hesitated to respond. “You take too long to give a simple answer.”

“Saying yes would be insufficient. My happiness transcends a simple answer. I am primarily grateful—”

“To?” Elizabeth interjected, her face brightened with a smile .

“To this smile on your face first and foremost, then to the universe, Mrs Darcy. I am grateful that our life appears so uncomplicated in its bliss. And you? I was the first to ask about your happiness.”

“With me, it is much simpler. I dread sleeping, fearing I shall plunge into a dreadful reality without you. Then I wake up in your arms, remembering this is our true reality, and I choke with happiness.”