Page 84 of Mr. Darcy's Complex Courtship

“I suspect at least part of the reason is he missed me whilst I was away, and he does not want to lose me.”

“That cannot be helped, but perhaps access to the books in my libraries will soften the blow. Your father is welcome to stay with us at any time. In between visits, I shall instruct my messenger to carry books back and forth as he desires.”

“That noteworthy advantage ought to encourage his sympathy for your cause.”

He pressed his forehead to mine. “I shall attempt to convince your father that my primary object as your husband will be to ensure your safety and happiness.”

I inched back to meet his gaze. “Shall I tell you how to make me happy now?”

“By all means.”

“Before we return to Mr. Baxter’s house, may we try your fortitude once again?”

His dark eyes flared, and his mouth found mine in an instant—without a hint of restraint. I became lost to the delightful ministrations of his lips and tongue. When my legs buckled, he held me in a secure grip. Thus, I remained upright, exhilarated, and engulfed in ecstasy.

Although mutual misunderstandings had combined to separate us, Fitzwilliam went to great lengths to find me again. Who could have foreseen that my trip with Papa to visit a friend would precipitate such a heavenly reunion and restore my fractured heart?

THE END

Epilogue: My Beloved Authoress

April 1813

Hatchards Book-shop, London

Darcy

“Did such a man exist? One who possessed sufficient wit, honour, patience, and charms to fascinate my intellect, tolerate my foibles, and capture my heart? No, I should never meet this fancied gentleman, not if I travelled the whole of England.”

My wife closed the book and set the volume upon her lap. “And so ends Chapter One.” On this occasion, Elizabeth’s secondpublic reading since her book’s publication a fortnight ago, she exhibited nary a trace of nervousness.

I rose and added my claps to the thunderous applause in the room. Near the back wall stood Miles and his wife, Amelia. To the right of them, Lady Matlock and a throng of her friends provided their acclaim. The companionable trio of Kitty, Lydia, and Georgiana stood at my left. My two sisters-by-marriage would spend the whole of April with us in town, and Georgiana had never been more content. The trio devoted several hours each day to their studies, and far more time rapt in conversation, games, and other silliness. I had acquired a certain fondness for the frequent peals of laughter that accompanied their gatherings.

“Thank you all very much.” Elizabeth’s sparkling eyes held mine for a moment, and her left brow arched. I acknowledged her with a nod.

As we all retook our seats, Mrs. Fortescue, the society matron who had organised the reading, approached Elizabeth. “That was delightful, Mrs. Darcy. I am certain everyone here is eager to read more ofThe Wayward Hearton their own.” Mrs. Fortescue faced the crowd. “We shall take a few questions for Mrs. Darcy from the audience.”

Five or six arms shot up. Mrs. Fortescue pointed to one person at a time, and Elizabeth addressed their queries.

Next, Mrs. Fortescue invited those who had purchased Elizabeth’s book to form a line to have their copies signed.

On that memorable Sunday in Bedford in July 1812, I had accompanied Elizabeth to Mr. Baxter’s home. While Mr. Baxter had given me a cordial greeting, Mr. Bennet held me in an inimical stare that grew fiercer when Elizabeth declared her intention of marrying me. With the combined encouragement of Elizabeth and Mr. Baxter, Mr. Bennet had progressed to a mute sulk, indicative of his grudging acceptance of our inevitableunion. Elizabeth and I wed in a double ceremony in London with Miles and Amelia on the third of August 1812.

We had spent our wedding night at Darcy House, then departed the next day for Pemberley. By all appearances, Elizabeth loved her new home from her initial views of the woods and house. We have traversed my favourite paths through hills, meadows, and moors, and she has formed friendships among the local gentry. We spent eight blissful weeks alone at the estate before Amelia and Miles arrived with Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley.

Miles and Amelia remained at the estate a month before returning to town, where he has been in constant demand for commissions of paintings. Although Elizabeth and I encouraged them to stay at Darcy House indefinitely, they chose instead to lease a small residence in a nearby neighbourhood.

Elizabeth and I returned to London in early February so she could meet with her publisher, and Lady Matlock hosted a ball in our honour. My wife’s reception in town has been overwhelmingly cordial, thanks in part to Lady Matlock; my aunt confided to her friends the fiction that she had recognised characteristics in Elizabeth that made her my ideal match and contrived to bring about our marriage.

A week ago, Bingley and Jane, along with my sister Mary, had departed for Portsmouth to attend Miss Bingley’s wedding to a distant cousin, a wealthy naval captain.

True to my word, I have supported Elizabeth’s writing at every turn. I encouraged her to delegate most household matters to Mrs. Reynolds and her apprentice, yet Elizabeth decided to retain many of the mistress duties and devote no more than two hours each day to her craft. In light of my marriage, Georgiana had no longer required a companion; thus, I offered Mrs. Annesley a position as Elizabeth’s literary assistant, and the lady has become an indispensable aide to my wife.

“Excuse me, Mr. Darcy.”

The voice belonged to a red-haired gentleman and fellow resident of Park Lane with whom I shared a distant acquaintance. “Good day, Mr. Oakley.”

“Good day.” He drew my attention to the ladies waiting for Elizabeth to sign their books. “Mrs. Oakley is next in line. She insisted we come today.”

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