Epilogue

As Elizabeth Bennet watched her sister and Mr. Bingley swear vows of holy matrimony, her eyes turned again and again towards the man who sat next to her.

She felt so much for him. She depended upon him, she adored him, she loved to hold him, kiss him, to listen to him speak, to make him laugh. Everything.

She loved him.

The path of true love had not flowed straight, but in the end, she loved the man she had married.

When the wedding was over, and the bride and groom had been thoroughly showered in embraces, good wishes, flowers, and rice by the guests, everyone made their way back to Longbourn on foot. A great wedding breakfast had been laid out by Mrs. Bennet. No one, not even Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst, doubted her mother's ability to set forth a fine meal on such an occasion.

Elizabeth and Darcy came out of the church arm in arm, watching the guests stream ahead of them.

Neither were in any hurry, and Elizabeth particularly wanted to go slowly. She showed Darcy around the churchyard, pointing out the graves of her grandmother, grandfather, and a variety of other ancient family members.

Georgiana went off ahead after Darcy confirmed that he did not mind, talking with Kitty and Mary, both of whom seemed to look at her as a guide to fashion.

The day was warm enough to count as the first day of spring.

After a while, they went onto the lane, still arm in arm. Darcy smiled at her, and he made a quip about Miss Bingley's expression during the wedding.

"She was dreadfully disappointed when you married me, you know," Elizabeth said.

"Oh, I know ."

Elizabeth laughed at that, but as her laugh faded away, a sort of tenseness came over her.

The way was short, she knew it very well, having walked from this church to home every Sunday for almost her entire life.

"Fitzwilliam," she suddenly said, using his Christian name, which she scarcely ever did. She instead followed her parent's habit of referring to each other as Mr. and Mrs., at least when they were around their children.

Darcy had a different preference, and he had always referred to her as Elizabeth from before they were married.

He looked at her with a surprised smile that changed into an intent look as she swallowed and struggled for her words.

Darcy, her husband , was as aware as she was of the difference in their habits.

"I…" Why was this suddenly so hard to say? Despite everything she knew, and everything Darcy had said to her, a little part of her feared being rejected. This must have been what it was like for him when Darcy had first told her that he loved her.

That thought gave her a warm glow that spread from her fingers and toes, and that filled her from head to toe. It gave her the bravery to say what she wanted to. "As we watched Bingley and Jane and stood across from each other. As they said those words…"

She looked down, shy and unable to look at Darcy. "We didn't say them with the right emotion. I wish we had. I…"

"I was in hardly the right state at the time."

"Neither was I. What I mean…" She glanced up at him again, and at his smile. His eyes and his expression. "What I mean to say is I love you."

A smile grew over his face. "Do you mean that, do you—"

"I would not be likely to say it if I did not," Elizabeth replied, with a little asperity.

He took her hand and squeezed it.

"Can we say them again?" Elizabeth asked. "Here, now?"

"The vows?"

"Yes." Elizabeth's stomach was tight. "Would you marry me, now, if you had the choice, for I would marry you."

"And I would marry you." He tilted her chin up so that he could look her in the eyes. His gaze searched her face. She looked back at him, willing all the love she held in her heart to show in her eyes.

A wide, truly happy smile spread over his face. He was so happy that it was hard to look at him, but Elizabeth wanted to see his happiness too much to look away. He stroked a lock of her hair back that had fallen past the bonnet and over her cheek, and then he said, "I, Fitzwilliam Darcy take thee, Elizabeth… Bennet to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to… to cherish. Till death us do part; and thereto I plight thee my troth."

With a pounding heart, Elizabeth replied, using the archaic language of the prayer book, "I, Elizabeth Darcy… or Bennet, I am both… I do take thee, Fitzwilliam Darcy to my wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish and to obey, till death us do part; and thereto I give thee my troth."

They grinned, but there were also tears in Darcy's eyes. With a half laugh he brushed them back and said, "Then we proclaim ourselves to be man and wife together in our own hearts and souls."

Elizabeth laughed, took his arm again, and they strolled up the road to Longbourn and their happy future.