“When I was there,” she said softly, “surrounded by people who meant me harm, it was thoughts of you that gave me courage. The certainty that you would come, that you would not rest until you found me.”
Her trust humbled him anew. What had he done to earn such faith? After the suspicions and accusations, the mistrust and doubt, how had she found it in herself to believe in him so completely?
“Elizabeth,” he began, his voice unsteady with emotion, “after all that has happened—the ledgers, the discoveries about our families—I must ask you something, though I hardly dare hope for the answer I desire.”
She looked up at him with those intelligent dark eyes that had first captured his attention, now bright withtears and moonlight.
“It’s yes, Fitzwilliam. With all my heart, forever and always.”
The words washed over him like a benediction. Darcy lifted his hand to cup her cheek, his thumb tracing the delicate curve of her jaw. “I love you, Elizabeth. Beyond all reason.”
“And I love you with no proof save the truth of my heart,” Elizabeth replied, her hands covering his where they rested against her cheek.
The careful distance he had maintained for so long—from her, from his own feelings, from the vulnerability of connection—crumbled entirely. Darcy lowered his head, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that conveyed everything words could not.
She tasted of courage, of the tears she had shed, and the laughter that would come. Her lips were soft, yielding yet demanding, as though she too felt the desperate need to confirm that they were now free and able to claim what they had almost lost.
“I cannot believe we’re free to love each other without barriers or doubts,” she whispered when they drew apart, her breath warm against his skin.
“Believe it,” Darcy murmured, wrapping her tighter in his arms. She was shivering, whether from cold or shock, he could not tell, but he would ensure she never felt either again if it was within his power. “We are free, Elizabeth. Free to marry when and where we choose, free to make our home at Pemberley together, free to build the life we both desire.”
“No more investigations,” Elizabeth said with a shaky laugh. “No more midnight searches through private papers or dangerous encounters with killers. Simply… us.”
“Simply us,” Darcy agreed, though he suspected that a life with Elizabeth Bennet would never be entirely simple.
The distant sounds of activity at Rose Cottage—shouts, commands, the movements of men securing prisoners—belonged to another world.
Darcy drew her closer, marveling at how perfectly she fit against him, as though she had been designed specificallyfor his embrace. The harvest moon blessed them from above, its ancient light bearing witness to promises as old as time itself.
“I never understood happiness,” he confessed against her hair. “Not until this moment. Not until you.”
Elizabeth’s hands tightened on his coat, her face turned up to his with an expression of such tenderness that it stole his breath. “Then we shall learn it together,” she promised, “day by day, for all the days to come.”
“And I have found my true inheritance—not in land or wealth or ancient name, but in your heart, dear Lizzy. Let’s get married right away. I will not risk losing you again to any delay or complication.”
“Your family will think us hasty,” Elizabeth observed, though her tone suggested she cared little for their opinions.
“My family will think us fortunate,” Darcy corrected. “Georgiana adores you already, and as for the rest—they may adjust their expectations to accommodate our happiness rather than the reverse.”
Elizabeth tilted her head back to look at him, her expression radiant despite the tears that still clung to her lashes. “I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy. I love your pride and your principles, your dry humor and your hidden tenderness. I love the way you protect those you care for and the way you make me feel both cherished and challenged.”
“And I love you, Elizabeth Bennet,” he replied, using the name she had borne for twenty years rather than the one she might legally claim. “I love everything about you and everything I have yet to discover.”
She rose on her toes to kiss him again, this time soft and sweet rather than desperate. It was a kiss of promise rather than relief, of hope rather than fear. When they parted, she remained close enough that their foreheads touched, their breath mingling in the cool night air.
“We should return,” she said eventually, though she made no move to leave his embrace. “The others will be concerned, and therewill be questions to answer about what happened tonight. Besides, my mother will be in raptures of joy.”
“In that case, let’s take another moment,” Darcy replied with a smirk. “Let me hold you in peace and quiet. Let me convince myself that this is real, that we have truly found each other despite everything that conspired to keep us apart.”
Elizabeth smiled, the expression transforming her face from merely beautiful to luminous. “We have all the time in the world now, my love. All the nights and days and years we could wish for.”
“All the time in the world,” Darcy agreed, and knew that even eternity would not be long enough to love her as she deserved.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
THE BIRTHDAY VERDICT
Elizabeth greetedher twenty-first birthday with a leap from the four-poster bed. She rushed to the window and pulled aside the curtains, not waiting for the maid to wake her. The nightmare of All Hallows’ Eve was over, and today was the day she could claim Pemberley as Elizabeth Rose Darcy, the lost Darcy heiress.
