He followed the direction of her glance to the bed that awaited them.
“Ah, but can you prove it?” he purred. “I will have to reserve judgement.”
Sometime later, as they sat together on the bed, Elizabeth looked around at her new room. It was hard to believe that she would be living here for the rest of her life.
A sudden rumble of laughter interrupted her contented musing. She looked at William in surprise.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I just thought of something,” he said. “You know how I accused you of theft?”
Elizabeth groaned. “Not again! I thought we agreed the wretched episode should be forgotten.”
“Well, I realize now that I was right.”
She scooted away from him to send him an incredulous look. “What do you mean?”
“I should have handed you to the authorities immediately.” His tone made it clear he was teasing her.
“Indeed?”
“You attempted to steal a vase, but ended up stealing much more. You have stolen Pemberley.”
“Hmmm,” she murmured, following the direction of his thoughts, “In the interest of honesty, I must confess that Pemberley was always my objective, not the vase. You have found me out.”
She ran the tip of her finger across the faint stubble on his cheek and smiled as his breath quickened.
“Even worse – though some might argue otherwise – you have stolen my heart,” he continued, his voice husky.
Elizabeth’s gaze explored William’s beloved face, dwelling on every one of his features, as she wondered how she could have ever thought him cruel and unfeeling.
“I did not steal it,” she replied, “You gave it to me, willingly. And I have given you mine in return.”
His eyes darkened. “I will forever be grateful for it, and for the fate that led you here.”
He put his arm around her. Elizabeth settled her head on his chest. It felt perfect. For once, she did not need to speak. The rapid beat of his heart spoke volumes to her, telling her of his love and of the certainty that they were meant to be together.
EPILOGUE
Georgiana joined the newlyweds for the yuletide season, and she surprised them by bringing a guest with her: her cousin Anne de Bourgh. After Darcy had introduced her to Elizabeth, he turned to Anne in astonishment. “What are you doing here? How did Lady Catherine permit you to come?”
“I did not ask her permission,” admitted Anne. “Since I followed your advice about letting the sun in, my health has improved. The tingling in my fingers and aching in my bones are much improved when I sit in the sunlight. I even feel more vigorous. I have made a habit of doing so every day now, weather permitting, of course. Mama is outraged. She says I look very tanned and common, but why would I care? I would rather feel healthy and strong than languish with pale skin like a vampire.”
“A vampire?” said Darcy with a laugh of surprise. “A mythical being that lives on people’s blood? That is a strange comparison.”
“I have been reading folklore about the undead. I—” she hesitated, looking shy, “—I am hoping to write a novel.”
“Why, that is excellent news, Miss de Bourgh!” said Elizabeth. “It sounds like it will be deliciously Gothic.”
“Please, call me Anne,” said Miss de Bourgh, “and I will call you Elizabeth. We are cousins now.”
Later, when she and Darcy were alone, Elizabeth reached out and twisted one of Darcy’s abundant dark curls around her finger.
“Do you remember when you told me about your quarrel with your aunt? It seems you have done some good. Perhaps you gave your cousin the courage to stand up to her mother.”
“Who would have thought that telling her to open the curtains would bring about such change?” he marveled. “If I had known, I would have quarreled with her long ago.”
Winter passed, and the first signs of spring began to appear.
