Epilogue

Pemberley

Darcy always got a certain thrill as his carriage drew near his home. There was no place in the world he liked better – except perhaps a certain hidden patch of wildflowers upon Ockham Mount. This time, however, his excitement was palpable. This was the first time Elizabeth would see his home, their home. He knew enough of Elizabeth's tastes to know she would love it, but it was such an integral part of himself, of their future together, that some unease was warranted. As they crested the hill which afforded the first view of Pemberley, the carriage stopped. His coachman had long since become accustomed to this ritual of his master.

For a moment, Darcy just gazed out at his home and down at his sleeping wife nestled against his shoulder. He gently kissed the top of her head and murmured her name, "Elizabeth, I thought you might wish to see your new home."

She yawned, nuzzled closer, and mumbled. "What? Are we stopped?"

He gave her an indulgent kiss on the cheek, and whispered softly. "Welcome to Pemberley." He gestured grandly out the window.

"Oh!" Elizabeth said in wonder as she pushed herself off of his chest to gain a better look. "I have never seen a place for which nature has done more, or where natural beauty has been so little counteracted by an awkward taste."

"So you approve?" he said eagerly.

"I think there are few who would not," she replied, giving him that impertinent glare that drove him to distraction. "Indeed, to be mistress of Pemberley might be something!"

Elizabeth was overwhelmed. Until today, her courtship, engagement, and marriage had all been like a wonderful dream. Marriage was everything her Aunt Gardiner had prepared her for, and far better than her Mother's version of that particular speech had warned about. Her husband was attentive, loving, and keen to please. Their plans for the future were happy, bright, and far off. But today the carriage had pulled up to the front gates to the reception of all of the servants of Pemberley, more servants than Longbourn and Netherfield combined. Of course, that was obviously necessary as the house was far larger than either. Fitzwilliam had just taken her on the abbreviated tour of the house which had taken well over an hour, and ended in the most magnificent library, where he promptly assured her she could see the rest of the house on the morrow. She was feeling unequal to the responsibilities ahead of her.

As Mrs. Reynolds had laid a decadent tea for them in the library – truly more food than two people could consume – she softly voiced her fears to her husband.

"Do not worry my love, I have every confidence that you will be a magnificent mistress, and Mrs. Reynolds will be here to guide you."

As she finished with the tea, Mrs. Reynolds gave her a reassuring nod and swiftly departed. Her husband followed the housekeeper to the door and after a few brief words, he closed the door and locked it.

"What are you doing my dear?"

"Do you know how long I've waited to have you alone in a library, Elizabeth?" He said as he joined her on the couch and nuzzled her ear, "six weeks, three days and fourteen hours."

She smiled, "I'm pleased to find your memory so exact."

"I doubt I shall ever forget any part of that evening, it was the most important day of my life."

"More important than our wedding day?"

"Of course. Granted, on our wedding day we were bound together by law and before god. But on the 27th of November, our souls were joined together in love. We overcame our prejudices, and pride, saw each other for the first time as we really were. As two flawed individuals who were destined for each other. And then together we worked to combat those flaws. That one day changed my life and I shall forever be grateful." He closed this speech with an ardent kiss.

"What are you doing?" She giggled as he nudged down the shoulder of her dress.

"Everything I couldn't do six weeks ago," he whispered between kisses to her shoulder.

"Are you trying to compromise me Mr. Darcy?"

"Thoroughly and completely Elizabeth," he said against her collarbone.

"And here I hoped to maintain some credibility in Derbyshire. What will the servants say?"

"They've been dismissed for the evening."

Some time later, as Elizabeth was pouring the now tepid tea, Darcy produced a small package wrapped in white paper tied with a red bow. "I have a gift for you my love."

Elizabeth opened it to find an exquisite book of Byron's poems bound in leather embossed with gold filigree. She opened the cover to read the inscription.

To my dearest, Loveliest, Elizabeth,
a small token to keep you nourished.
With all my love,
Fitzwilliam Darcy

"Oh Fitzwilliam, it's beautiful!"

"I had it custom made for you."

"I love it, and I love you!"

He poured two glasses of wine – let's face it, nobody wants to drink lukewarm tea – and laid his head in his wife's lap. He read Byron's poems to her as she gently combed her fingers through his hair. And so they spent their first evening at Pemberley locked in the library before a cozy fire, alternating between reading, conversing, and sitting in companionable silence and it truly was as magical as Darcy had dreamed it could be all those weeks ago.

The End