A/n: Hello again! And for the last time, I'm afraid. Welcome to the last chapter! I hope you like the ending. :) I have listened to you all, well, I've read the reviews, and there seems to be quite a lot of discontentment about the ending. Personally, I didn't really see it, so I was quite content to just let it be. It's taken me more than a year to write, so honestly I'd just like to finish it. But then dreamiedreamer submitted a review that suggests that my little fanfic doesn't deserve its rating. That I can understand, so finally, a challenge! So now there is quite a long and rather smutty bit at the end. Read and review, please. If there's something seriously wrong with this ending, tell me and I just might do it again!

Darcy sat, jolted and bruised from the movement of the carriage. But it was nothing when compared with the turmoil that was in his heart. Not two days ago, Darcy had informed his controlling, interfering, and offensively rude aunt that he would never allow himself to be separated from Elizabeth. He looked out the carriage window, and saw one of his tenants with a vixen he had nursed back to health after rescuing her from a trap six months prior. The young fox was being carried lovingly by the man, who walked with a solid determination to the edge of the woods. The sight was not an unusual one, as the man was often seen carrying the fox in such a manner when he went about his daily business. At first out of neccessity due to a damaged paw, now out of a strong emotional attachment. Darcy ordered the carriage stopped, he alighted and walked swiftly to the man, curious as to why they were here in this part of Darcy's estate.

The man turned when Darcy was only a few metres away and motioned him to stop. Darcy complied, and watched in surprise as the man gently put the fox down at the edge of the woods and stepped back from her, tears streaming down his face. The young vixen looked at him in surprise, looked at Mr Darcy, then back at the tenant. Satisfied, she joyous barked and ran off into the forest, leaving the two men behind her.

The tenant wiped the tears from his face, and walked towards Mr Darcy.

"Yes, sir, what is it you be wishin' to talk to me about?"

"Nothing," Darcy said, surprised, "I mean, why...?" He motioned towards the woods.

"Why did I let her go?"

"Well, yes. Your love for the creature was well known, and you are obviously sad at the separation. Why not keep her with you always?"

"She's a wild creature, Sir. She don't belong ta me. She'd be happier out there in them woods, not with me in me 'ouse. She'd be right miserable if I tried ta keep her away from where she wants ta be."

"But do you not love her?"

""Course. If I loved 'er any less, I wouldn't be 'ere now."

"But... I do not understand."

The tenant looked shrewdly at Mr Darcy, immediately understanding the younger man's dilemma.

"Real love, Sir, is where you put aside any feelings you may 'ave, and do only what is best fer the otha person. Keepin' a poor creature against their will an' their nature ain't love. 'Tis only abidin' by what you want, not what they need. Love's about givin', Sir. Not hoardin'."

The tenant tipped his hat at his master, and walked away. Darcy stood staring into the woods for some time, knowing that the farmer had been talking about more than a mere fox.

Darcy arrived at Pemberley and stepped out of the carriage, looking up at the windows above him. He saw Elizabeth standing by the library window, watching him. Darcy sighed sadly and walked into the house, determined that this time, he would do the right thing.

The housekeeper met him at the door, nattering about this, that or the other. Darcy didn't hear a word that she said, he just nodded and kept walking, making his way toward the library. After excusing himself to the housekeeper, he stood outside the library door. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders before knocking and entering, knowing that he was about to break his heart.

Lizzie moved from the window to the bookcase on the far side fo the room, puzzled as to why Darcy had walked into Pemberley with such sadness on his face. But even more puzzled as to why she actually cared what was wrong. So deep were her thoughts that she was surprised by a knock on the door, and even more surprised to see Mr Darcy walk in.

"Elizabeth, I must speak with you."

Lizzie motioned Mr Darcy to a chair, and seated herself, looking expectantly, if confusedly, at her husband.

Darcy moved instead to the window, and without once turning from its aspect, proceeded to speak.

"As you are doubtless aware, the purpose for my recent absence was to visit my aunt, Lady Catherine. This visit, and certain... events following it, has made me think. Now, do not believe me to be easily influenced by my aunts opinions and ideas, while she can anger me, I am not swayed by her. But I have been recently thinking about our marriage, and the circumstances by which it has come about. I have come to the conclusion that..."

Mr Darcy paused, drawing breath and the strength to continue. Lizzie sat, eyes transfixed on Mr Darcy's broad back turned away from her, amazed at his words.

"I have decided that my actions were not entirely honourable, and I believe now that I have truly forced you into a committment that is truly abhorrant to you. As such, no true gentleman could sit by silent as a lady he very much admires, even loves, suffers. Therefore, I wish to put my own feelings on the matter aside, and..." Darcy looked down, swallowing quickly before a tremor could come into his voice. "And give you leave of our marriage, if you would so wish it. As our marriage is not consumated, we can journey to the Bishop in the morning and request an annullment. I am sure that this course of actions is one in which you can heartily take part in. I will make the arrangements."

Darcy left quickly, without ever meeting Elizabeth's eyes. Lizzie looked about her in utter confusion. Mr Darcy had just handed her everything she had ever wanted on a silver platter. She could leave, an unmarried woman, and live with Jane and Bingley. She would never have to see the horrid man again!

And yet... she could not banish the thought of him from her mind. His slumped shoulders, downcast eyes and unusually heavy-hearted demeanor. He loved her, she knew. How hard had it been for him to say that? If she did leave on the morrow, how much would that cost him?

Unexpected guests arrived that afternoon, as Lizzie sat amongst her half-packed trunks and cases. She sat at her little writing desk, the one the her father had given her for her 11th birthday, writing a letter to Jane. Lizzie had so much to say, so much to tell of Mr Darcy and his strange announcement that morning. Lizzie was signing her name when her maid knocked on the door.

"Visitor for you, My Lady."

Lizzie looked up from her letter as her visitor entered.

"Jane!" She cried, and threw herself across the room to embrace her sister. Jane laughed as she caught her, and held her dearest sister tight.

"My dearest Lizzie. It has been too long!"

"Oh, indeed! How goes it all? How is mother, and Mary and Kitty? What of Lydia? Have you heard any news?"

Jane laughed and informed Lizzie of as much of her news as was possible, answering her questions about Mary's new piano teacher and Kitty's newest suitor. Even Wickham's trial was discussed, the date for it being set for eight months into the future. When Jane had related everything that she could think of, satisfying as much of her sisters curiousity as possible, she looked at Lizzie seriously from her seat on the bed.

"Now Lizzie, tell me," Jame said knowingly and seriously. "What has happened?"

Lizzie looked at her sister and burst into tears.

"Oh, Jane," she cried. "I hardly know."

Jane went to her, and held her as Lizzie told her of the awful carriage ride to Pemberley after the wedding, Mr Darcy's continued kindness and thoughtfulness, Georgiana's arrival and tricks, Mr Darcy's absence to Rosings, the letter from the cook, Mr Darcy's declaration that very morning and most of all, her utter confusion. How she had hated him for forcing her into the marriage, how the tingles run up her arm when he holds her hand to help her into and out of the carriage. How she despised him for coming in announced to her bath room, how she so wants him to have liked what he saw that day. How the spiteful man had finally seen reason and let her leave, and how she cannot for the life of her feel entirely pleased about the prospect. How he ruled his estate with absolute authority, and how he knows what is best for each living thing on his lands, and judges accordingly. But mostly how she cannot help thinking about his demeanor when he told her that she may have her annullment. How far from his pride he had to fall. How dejected and broken he looked. And how she wanted to take the hurt away from him so that he would never have to feel it. How she really and honestly believed that he loved her. And loved her truly.

Jane smiled and kneeled on the floor in front of her sister as the day turned into night.

"And what are your own feelings on the matter?"

Lizzie rose and stalked about the room in anguish and frustration.

"You know very well what they are, Jane. He is the most arrogant, spiteful man to ever roam the earth. And I hate him more than I have ever hated anyone else in the entireity of my life."

Jane rose to her feet.

"Do you really?"

She left.

Supper that night was a quiet affair, though the visitors were made to feel very welcome. Their party lacked one member, and her presence was felt keenly by all for very different reasons. Elizabeth's servant had informed them all that her mistresses would not be down for dinner, as she had gone to bed with a sudden headache.

Bingley regretted her conversation and Georgiana her role, unused as she was to playing hostess, as dear as her guests were. Darcy was deeply saddened by the prospect of losing his Elizabeth, and regretted not being able to be with her every minute before she would so creully leave him. Jane alone rejoiced in her absence, knowing the reason for it prehaps better than even Lizzie did. She finished her meal and retired, forcing her husband to accompany her, all with a small self-satisfied smile playing upon her lips.

Georgiana declared that she refused to endure her brother's melancholy and retired with their guests, saying goodnight in the passageway, but not before pulling aside Mrs Bingley and thanking her for her quick response to her summons, and had she done what she came here to do? Was everything fixed?

Jane merely smiled, patted her arm and said, "No. But I have no doubt that it soon will be."

Fitzwilliam Darcy sat on the edge of his bed with a heavy heart. To make the arrangements for tomorrow's fated journey had cost him every bit of courage that he had. Only the thought that he was finally making his Elizabeth happy prevented him from cancelling every provision that he had intended to make. And so it was arranged. The carriage would be ready, the cases had gone down after supper and the servants informed. The Bishop would be waiting and it would all be finished. His greatest dream, the woman he loved more than life itself, vanished in a few words, a signed document and a carriage trundling away. He held his head in his hands, dreading the morrow and the long night that would precede it, inevitably counting down the hours until he lost her. There would be no sleep tonight, and no tears. He was beyond tears. Instead a heavy weight pressed upon him as he tossed and turned and tried to ignore the closed door on the wall near him. A door built for love, for joy. Built to facilitate a marriage full of passion and intense love, now locked from the other side, never to be opened and used again. Pah! He couldn't even bear to look at it. He did not suppose that he ever would be able to again. The very knowledge of it seeped into his mind, it's image burned on his brain until he was always aware of it at his back, representing everything that he was about to lose forever. Darcy finally gave up on this, his father's room and resolved to sleep in a spare room, away from such visual reminders of his loss.

He was sitting on the side of the bed, facing the accursed door, and beginning to stuff his big feet into his boots when he heard the distinct click of a lock being opened, then the handle turned.

That door, that awful door, opened to reveal Elizabeth, his Elizabeth, angelic and beautiful in her white nightdress, dark, curly hair hanging loose down her back.

Lizzie stood in the doorway for some time. If it had been any other time, she would have laughed at the picture that Mr Darcy made. He was normally so carefully groomed, but now his hair stuck up at odd angles, evidence of a fitful sleep. His nightshirt twisted around upper thighs, revealing powerful legs and his feet half in half out of his boot. He sat, staring at her, looking for all the world like a rabit stunned by her appearance in the doorframe.

Lizzie mentally shook herself from her reverie and moved towards him. She wanted to tell him that she had forgiven him for forcing her into the marriage. That she was more sorry than she could ever hope to express for her behaviour this past month. That she knew that he loved her and would do anything for her. That she didn't want to leave Pemberley. That she didn't want to leave him.

Sitting on the bed beside him, looking deep into his eyes and seeing the depth of love that she had always known that he felt, the speech that she had been working on all evening evaporated from her mind, and she could only whisper, eyes pleading for him to understand;

"I think I love you."

Darcy raised his hand to her cheek, let it caress her white skin and move slowly down her bared neck and shoulder to her arm and around her back. Drawing her close to him, her smell enveloping, intoxicating, he could only guide her onto the bed beneath him, kissing her waiting lips.

He moved slowly, letting his hand drift down her side until he caught the skirt of her nightdres. Slowly, ever slowly, he drew up the hem. Moving so he was kneeling between her legs, he ran his hands up her thighs, her hips, past her breaths until he had pulled the thin garment over her head.

She lay naked beneath him, pale skin glimmering in the moonlight. He had known she was beautiful, had mentally played out this moment more times than he could count, but nothing could prepare him for the reality that lay before him, watching him with wide brown, almost fearful eyes. Lizzie's dark hair lay spread around her on the pillow, her breasts large and sitting on her chest. Moving his eyes down over the softness of her belly and the full curves of her hips, he was motionless and awed in spite of himself. He looked back up to his wife's eyes and realised that she was looking worriedly at him. Darcy suddenly saw himself as she did; still and silent. He smiled at her and kissed her, giving his hands free roam around her body, exploring the softness of her skin, of her breasts, belly and thighs. He kissed down her neck, tasting her and listening to her quiet intake of breath and he rejoiced, knowing that he was the source of her pleasure. So absorbed by her sweet tasting skin, Darcy was almost surprised when he felt her small hands run up his back inside his nightshirt. He helped Lizzie to pull it over his head, and lay skin on skin with her. He kissed down her cleavage, down the soft skin of her belly until he found the one area that would be forever his. He kissed, one hand gently massaging her breast, and licked her through. Lizzie moaned with pleasure, and he continued, his tongue lapping up her juices and moving with increased urgency. The hand that had been on her breast he now moved downward to aid him, carefully inserting one finger into her vagina. Lizzie gasped at the new sensation, and he rubbed her clitoris with his thumb as he moved his finger inside her. When she began to writhe and buck against him, he removed his hand from her and crawled back up her body to lie again on top of her and kiss her properly. Lizzie looked at him with eyes that pleaded him to finish what he had started, and he smiled and shook his head. He was enjoying this. Let her feel, just once, a taste of what she had put him through. He rolled beside her, catching her hand and moving it to touch where he stood straight against himself. Lizzie took over, moving her hand up and down around his hardness as he directed. Darcy lay back against the pillows with a sigh, and didn't realise that Lizzie had moved her mouth down until he felt the first hot wet breaths of her closing around his tip. He jerked his head and chest up to see her gradually fitting him inside her mouth. Cheeky girl, he thought, revelling in her attentions. She was on her knees off to the left of him, facing Darcy's feet. Darcy reached between her legs and so lightly as to not be touching at all, ran his finger once over her wetness. Lizzie nearly fell against him, but caught herself in time. Darcy restrained a chuckle as Lizzie tried to reach behind her and grab his hand to direct it back. Instead, he pulled her back up lay her down, moving on top of her once again. Holding her pleading eyes with his own, he held himself, rubbing the head into her wetness, past her lips but not into her. Lizzie groaned with longing and bucked against him, trying to catch him and force him inside. Darcy only smiled and held her down.

"Are you sure you want this?" He asked. "I could move away now and leave you be."

He started to pull himself off her in a coolly calculated movement, once again in control of himself as he watched her long for him.

Lizzie's only response was to pull him back and reach her hand down to grab him and guide him in. Darcy let her, silently laughing into her neck. As soon as he was in position he began to slowly glide into her, inch by inch until his hips prevented his penetrating her further. Lizzie only made one small whimper of pain as he lay inside her, letting her muscles stretch around him. When he judged she was ready, he moved three quarters out only to move in again. His muscles quivered at the slow, controlled pace, and he ached to moved quickly inside her. Only the pain that Darcy knew she must be feeling kept him from giving in to her warmth and the weight of his desires until she had recovered somewhat and his own tension became unbearable. Then he moved swiftly, constantly, rhythmically until he could hold it no longer and burst within her and he felt her muscles contract about him.

As he finished and collapsed onto her, he rolled and held her tight against his chest, lips gently placing kisses on her hair and he whispered, "My Lizzie".

They slept, all thoughts of annullment banished and hatred forgotten as the connecting door hung open.

A/n: I'd just like to say thankyou to everyone for bearing with me on this, and to all those who reviewed, favourited and alerted, a special thankyou to you, too. I hope that you have enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it. And yes, I know that the ending is more than a bit corny, but I like it that way, and I hope it's not too disppointing for you. :)

Larilaya.