Epilogue

EPILOGUE

1 835 - Twenty-Two years later - Pemberley

The chapel brimmed with family and friends. Elizabeth’s parents, who lived at Pemberley’s dower house since guardianship was granted to the Darcys, were surrounded by a multitude of grandchildren, and one newborn great-granddaughter from Darcy and Elizabeth’s eldest daughter, Jane.

Darcy could not have been happier. All the hours Elizabeth and Clara spent overseeing the chapel decorations were worth it. Everything was perfect despite aged Lady Catherine’s opinions, which directly contradicted anything Mrs. Bennet suggested. The two sat directly across from each other, both pleased that they single-handedly arranged the courtship and wedding details to their satisfaction. Elizabeth and Clara allowed both ladies to believe what they wanted as they silently went about doing things their way. How Darcy loved them all.

Surveying the crowd, the Fitzwilliam family sat opposite the Darcys since the eldest grandson of Lord Matlock was the groom—the rest of the Bennets scattered throughout the pews.

He spotted Lady Armstrong sitting beside (but not speaking to) Elizabeth’s youngest sister. They were not doting aunts, although they were attentive enough. Neither had children. While Caroline Armstrong socialized to be seen, Lydia attended the same events to enjoy herself. On an aside, Lord Armstrong died years before of the pox. Lady Armstrong enjoyed being a widow—all the status without the hassle of a man.

Notably absent were the Hursts. Not once since they first appeared in front of the Lord Chancellor to petition for Charlie and Clara’s guardianship had Gilbert or Louisa Hurst made an effort to see the children. Therefore, it was an easy decision for Lord Hendricks to assign the position to Darcy. They were not missed.

Charlie, who stood up with the groom, approached Darcy, waiting to escort the bride down the aisle.

“Can you believe that Clara is getting married today?” Charlie asked. “Uncle, I do not know if I have thanked you and Aunt for your guidance and training. Clara and I, well, we suspect the life we would have had with the Armstrongs or the Hursts would have never measured up to what we had raised at Pemberley.”

Charlie was a handsome young man who looked remarkably like his father. “You owe us no thanks, Charlie. Your aunt and I are privileged to see you and Clara become the sort of people of whom your father and mother would be proud.”

His nephew fidgeted, a habit he was never quite able to break. “Uncle, do you know Miss Isabelle Fitzwilliam? Well, of course, you do since she is soon to be Clara’s sister-in-law.” He rubbed his palms on the side of his trousers. “She is an angel, isn’t she? And I was thinking how perfect it would be if Clara and I were to wed another brother and sister. Do you not think it is aperfect plan, too?”

Darcy chuckled to himself. Charlie Bingley was a good and amiable young man who wore his heart on his sleeve. Clara, who was the grumpiest baby Darcy knew until his own son was born, had developed a kind gentleness that rivaled her mother’s.

“You had better escort your aunt to the front, Nephew. Your sister is—” Darcy’s jaw dropped when first his wife and then his niece entered the chapel. Never had he seen such loveliness. His wife was the most stunning woman in the world, even after more than two decades of marriage. His little Clara looked almost identical to Jane Bingley. Where Darcy paid Jane little attention when they first met (since he only had eyes for Elizabeth), her daughter was stunning.

His niece wrapped her hand around his elbow. “Are you ready, Uncle?”

“No,” he admitted as his heart squeezed.

“Uncle,” she softly remonstrated. “He is a good man. You know he is.”

Patting her hand, Darcy stiffened his spine. “I could not have parted with you, my Clara, to anyone less worthy.”

Late that night, when all the guests had gone to their beds or returned home, Darcy searched for his wife. He found her in the empty nursery, rocking back and forth. He sat at her side, quickly falling into rhythm. Moonlight streamed through the window, giving her an ethereal glow.

“The wedding was beautiful,” Elizabeth said.

“Yes, it was.”

“Clara was lovely.”

“Almost as lovely as her aunt.”

She reached over, entwining her fingers with his. “Fitzwilliam, I was hoping our Jane and her family would remain at Pemberley instead of making the ten-mile journey to their estate. For as much as I enjoy spending time with our daughter, it is our granddaughter my arms yearn to hold. I wish she were here now.”

“I agree. Being a parent to our four, along with uncle to Charlie and Clara, is one of life’s greatest privileges, but the joy of holding a grandchild is far beyond anything I could ever imagine.”

Her fingers tightened around his hand as they continued to rock.

He noted that the only sound in the room was their chairs creaking against the wooden floors. No babies demanded to be fed. No toddlers were trying to sneak out of their beds. “This nursery is too quiet.”

Elizabeth stopped her chair. “Well, how diverting you should say so, dear husband.”

In the moonlight, he saw her hand rest on her middle.

“Oh!” he gasped. Leaping from his chair, he lifted her into his armsand carried her directly to their chambers. “Perhaps this time, we shall have twins.”

The End