“All of that,” Darcy agreed, “but more importantly, that we can go home. To Pemberley. As a family. No more hiding, no more pretending, no more uncertainty.”
Elizabeth’s eyes shone. “Pemberley,” she repeated softly. “I had begun to think I might never see it.”
“It has been waiting for you,” Darcy told her. “Just as I was, even when I didn’t know it.”
He bent to kiss her again, marveling at how perfectly she fit against him, how right it felt to hold her after so long apart.
“I love you,” he murmured against her lips. “Not from obligation or pity or even memory, but from choice. Here and now, knowing all that has passed between us, I choose you again.”
“And I love you,” Elizabeth replied without hesitation. “Not because you’re William’s father or because society demands it, but because you are the man I want—stubborn pride, occasional pomposity, and all.”
Darcy laughed heartily. “Your assessment of my character remains as brutally honest as ever, Mrs. Darcy.”
“Would you have me any other way, Mr. Darcy?”
“Never. I vow to have you every way I can.”
“Da-Da! Mama!” William burst into the room, his face smeared with what appeared to be gingerbread and sugar, Mary following with an apologetic expression.
“He insisted on showing you his creation,” she explained. “And proved remarkably adept at eluding capture when he wants to.”
William toddled toward them, brandishing a misshapen gingerbread man. “Da-Da!” he announced proudly, holding it up. “Mama!”
“He insisted on making one for each of you,” Mary explained, her eyes warm as she watched them. “Though I believe his contribution was mainly enthusiastic stirring and liberal application of sugar.”
Darcy knelt, meeting his son at eye level. “Is this for us, William? How very skillfully made.”
“For Da-Da,” William declared, solemnly breaking the cookie in half and offering the larger portion to Darcy with sticky fingers. He turned to Elizabeth, holding up the other piece. “For Mama.”
Elizabeth knelt beside them, completing the circle. “How generous of you to share,” she said, accepting the offering with grave courtesy. “It looks delicious.”
William beamed, then flung himself against both of them in a spontaneous hug that threatened to grind gingerbread crumbs into their clothes. Darcy didn’t mind. He gathered his son close with one arm, reaching for Elizabeth with the other until all three were locked in an embrace. A true homecoming.
“Your first gift as a family,” Mary observed softly. “I shall leave you to enjoy it properly.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
JUSTICE SERVED
A se’ennight had passedsince Elizabeth’s reconciliation with Darcy, seven blissful days of rediscovering what it meant to be a family. The November frost had given way to the first tentative snowflakes of December, and Bellfield Grange hummed with the quiet contentment of a household finally at peace. December third, her second wedding anniversary would be soon upon them, and Elizabeth looked forward to a quiet but private dinner with her husband.
Not that quiet was possible on a busy sheep farm preparing for winter.
“Mama! Mama!” William toddled in the morning room, pointing excitedly at the window where fat snowflakes drifted past the glass.
“Yes, darling, snow,” she agreed, marveling at how such simple moments could feel so precious. Across the room, Mary sat at the writing desk updating the household accounts while Graham sat nearby, ostensibly reviewing estate papers but spending far more time glancing at Mary than at his ledgers.
“The wool yields exceeded our projections by nearly twenty percent,” Graham was saying, though his attention remained fixedon Mary’s profile. “Your organizational methods have proved remarkably effective.”
“Mathematics has always been a source of satisfaction to me,” Mary replied, a becoming flush coloring her cheeks. “Unlike my sisters, I find comfort in numbers that remain constant.”
Elizabeth hid a smile behind her teacup. The growing attachment between her sister and Graham had been impossible to miss, though both parties maintained the sort of careful propriety that suggested deeper feelings carefully contained.
Darcy entered the room carrying a letter bearing official seals, his expression grave but satisfied. “The authentication is complete,” he announced. “Reverend Michaels’s superior has confirmed the validity of the registry pages. William’s legitimacy is established beyond question, and our marriage is officially recognized by the Church.”
“Thank God,” Elizabeth breathed, feeling the last knot of anxiety loosen in her chest. “Though I confess I had grown rather fond of our irregular status. There was something romantic about being secret rebels against propriety.”
“We can still shock society if you wish,” Darcy replied with that dry humor she adored. “I’m certain my aunt Catherine would be delighted to provide opportunities for scandal.”
