Elizabeth turned her head from side to side and smiled, pleased with the effect. “It is perfect.”
“I agree,” Mr Darcy said, having entered the room unobserved.
Elizabeth dismissed the maiden with a nod and a word of thanks. She rose from the vanity chair. “I thought you would have gone down by now. Is not Mr Bingley waiting in the drawing room?”
“The Bennet girls are much too tantalising to leave them alone for any length of time,” Mr Darcy replied with a low chuckle that made a shiver go up Elizabeth’s spine. “If his wife is in as exquisite looks tonight as mine, it is a wonder if he comes down for supper at all.”
He took her into his arms and kissed her neck. Though it took some force of will, Elizabeth laughingly pushed him away. “Now, now, you must not tempt me,” she sighed. “If we forget ourselves, my hair will be mussed, and then I will not be able to go down.” She stepped in front of the full-length mirror and smoothed her hair.
Her husband came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “All the better,” he murmured against the curve of her throat.
“It is not fair that you are so very handsome,” Elizabeth breathed. “But come now. We must put in an appearance. It is Christmas night, after all. Richard will be so excited.”
“That is true,” Darcy replied.
Their two-year-old son was already toddling about. Richard had thoroughly enjoyed the Christmas festivities so far, not to mention being spoiled by all his visiting family. It was wonderful to see the magic of the season through the eyes of a child.
The rest of the family was already gathered in the drawing room. The servants had been given the night off to have festivities of their own below stairs, and so a simple supperof cold meats, fruits and vegetables, and all kinds of desserts imaginable, had been laid. Glasses of holiday punch in hand, they joined their family around the hearth. Jane and Mr Bingley greeted them with raised glasses and holiday wishes, which were swiftly offered to them in turn. Mr Bingley, of whom Elizabeth had always had such a high opinion as a friend, had proved to be still better as a brother-in-law, for he made Jane very happy.
The Gardiners were also in attendance. All the children had grown so much taller since the days Elizabeth had lived with them in the house on Gracechurch Street. It was strange indeed to see little cousin Mary so nearly a young woman, and fast approaching the age of her coming out into society. How the years flew by! She was seeing just how fast with her own son. Elizabeth could have sworn that Richard had been a baby only yesterday. Now here he was, toddling about and speaking more and more each day.
The merry party around the hearth settled into happy chatter. Soon, though not until after he had been missed and longed for, the nurse brought Richard in. He toddled to his parents as fast as his chubby little legs could carry him. Mr Darcy bent and took their son up in his arms. “How are you, little man?” he asked.
“I want a sweet!” Richard pronounced, drawing laughter from everyone around the sitting area.
Elizabeth shook her head. “I declare, he takes after his Auntie Lydia in that.”
Upon hearing her name, Lydia perked up and joined them, coming over from the card tables where she, Mary, and Georgiana had been engaged in a friendly game of whist. “Richard gets all his best traits from me,” she boasted proudly. “He is my little angel,” she said and took him from Darcy’sarms as he returned. Darcy returned to Elizabeth’s side, placing his hand on the small of her back. Even after three years of marriage, he still made her heart skip a beat.
Elizabeth turned to her sister. “I am not so sure. He has no taste in choosing ribbons,” she teased.
“Oh, he shall!” Lydia pronounced confidently.
Thankfully, Lydia had mellowed a little over the last two years. Only a year after their marriage, Elizabeth had been given yet another reason to thank her lucky stars that she had such a husband as her Darcy. Lydia, then as giddy and foolish as ever, had come within a hair’s breadth of eloping with a very unworthy man. If she had not had the good fortune of a strong, able — and wealthy — brother-in-law, the most frightful consequences might have resulted. As it were, Lydia had escaped with no worse harm than disillusionment, and had grown wiser in consequence.
Kitty had married a fine gentleman the year before and was living in London. She was loving every second of her new adventure, and it was rumoured, via little clues from Kitty’s last letter to Mrs Bennet, that she would soon be welcoming a child into this world.
Mary, though still single, was not likely to remain so much longer. Meryton church had recently received a new parson, and the mutual respect and admiration between them had been evident almost at once. Elizabeth had met him, wishing her husband to join her in assessing his character, and had been pleased with what she found. Though a little humourless, Mr Wentworth was a sensible man of good heart and excellent character. Better still, he seemed to value Mary for her scholarship and dedication. He would make her a proper husband.
The past years had been kind to them all, particularly Elizabeth herself. She had continued to write under her pseudonym — but no longer in secret. After considerable discussion with Mr Darcy and Mr Tilney, they had presented the real Mrs Laurence to the world. To Elizabeth’s delight, the public’s initial fascination quickly faded away, and the furore created was nothing compared to what she had feared, and even less than she would have dared to hope. Her third novel had been a smashing success, and her fourth even more so. Now working on her fifth novel, Elizabeth had been forced to take things at a much slower pace, especially since Richard had arrived. Still, life was good.
Particularly as she had a husband passionately devoted to her both as a woman and as an author.
“I say we give a toast to the season!” Mr Bingley called out.
They all gave a hearty, “hear, hear,” and after he had made a splendid toast, he turned to his wife and pulled her close. “Each year, I think I cannot be more content than I already am. And every year since we married, I have been wrong,” he said. “I have never been as happy as I am at this moment.”
Elizabeth loved to hear her brother-in-law speak about Jane. She had found a treasure in her husband, and she would never cease to be thankful for what their lives had become. It was difficult to think back and remember the days when she had been living by her pen alone, scrounging and saving to make sure they had enough to make the cottage rent, or to cover food at the market. Gone were the days when they had relied on the kindness of their friends and even strangers, who gave them charity to help make ends meet.
Elizabeth went to Jane’s side and sat down. The men congregated together and started discussing the state of the continent, now that Napoleon was in exile.
The sisters gazed at their husbands for a moment, always ready to enjoy both their handsome miens and the longstanding friendship that was no less a pleasure to behold.
“We really must have some conversation,” Elizabeth said laughingly at last. “For if they notice how we gaze at them, they will think us quite besotted.”
“And they would be right,” Jane said with a smile. “I am sure that you love Mr Darcy every bit as much as I adore my dear Charles.”
“I could not deny it,” Elizabeth replied.
