Epilogue
One year later
Darcy ran up the steps to the Gardiners’ home and rang the bell, asking if Elizabeth could meet him privately before he joined the others. His wife had been there visiting all afternoon along with Jane and Bingley, but he had had an important item to retrieve before joining her. The Gardiners were hosting them all to observe the anniversary of their marriage. Fitzwilliam and Clara had married the same day last spring as Bingley and Jane and he and Elizabeth. His uncle had approved of Fitzwilliam’s match; or rather, Darcy suspected, his lordship relented because he could do nothing to stop it and decided it was best to put on a public show of approval.
There had been no Easter trip to Kent last year. Elizabeth had wisely decided it not the best time to visit her friend who lived next to Rosings. Lady Catherine had been furious to learn Darcy would not be marrying her daughter, although the only one surprised by this confession was her ladyship. She was still not yet willing to put on the same pleasant face for public view as was her brother.
Fortunately, the Gardiners had been overjoyed by their news. There had been no need to apply for an exchange of identities at the matchmaking office last season. After the excursion to St Paul’s, he and Elizabeth explained the entire scenario to the Gardiners, who found it highly amusing. Ultimately, they decided to say the couple met in the autumn and reawakened their connexion in town rather than announce they met someone they already knew through the subscription.
“I was disappointed you did not come earlier,” Elizabeth said when she greeted him in the Gardiners’ parlour. “I was almost afraid you were avoiding an evening party when you are one of the guests of honour.”
Elizabeth showed a glow of such happy expression whenever he entered the room. He would never tire of receiving her smiles.
“I had an errand to run, my dear,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her cheek since they were alone. “It took longer than anticipated, but I could not leave until it was finished.”
“I am surprised my aunt left us unaccompanied,” she said with an amused look at the closed door. “Before we married, she was always intent on watching over my conduct with enough scrutinising severity as to make it doubtful to anyone that I actually love you.”
He would also never tire of hearing Elizabeth say that she loved him. She seemed to know that, and she told him every chance she had.
“I do not blame Mrs Gardiner. She caught us kissing rather fervently in your uncle’s library before we married.” Darcy took her by the hand to sit on the sofa. “But I am glad for a quarter of an hour alone with you before we join the others. I intend to use it wisely.”
He shifted to take the box from his pocket, but Elizabeth clasped him around the shoulders and kissed him. He wasstartled, but then he closed his eyes and kissed her back. Her lips were so soft, and her response reflected his own longing.
“That is not what I meant,” he murmured when they were done.
“It seemed a wise use of time to me. If it was not to kiss me, then why did you want to see me alone?”
Now he pulled out the jeweller’s box and presented it to her. “I have an anniversary gift for you, but hopefully you won’t need it for any other clandestine meetings.”
She pulled out the necklace with a pendant in the shape of a large pansy, with amethyst petals and a citrine in the centre. Elizabeth’s playful and eager expression turned more tender. “You brought me a pansy. To help me think of you?”
“You said you would wear pansies to meet me in The Green Park because you thought of me often.” He took the necklace from the box and put it around her neck. “I hope this way you will alwayspense à moi. Now you can more easily think of me when we have to be apart. Just don’t use it to identify yourself when meeting strangers,” he added in a teasing voice.
Elizabeth ran her fingers over the stones. “There won’t be any more clandestine meetings, I promise you that. We both ended our subscriptions long ago.” She pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “I will think of you always.”
“Do you think your aunt and uncle were right to not tell people we met through the subscription? The business did not survive, but it was a fine thing for women, as you taught me.”
She shrugged. “It was, but it might be better that no one knowsweconnected through the subscription. I was already an alarming choice according to your family. Besides, who would believe that you needed it?” She had a look in her eyes that said he would be teased. “Mr Darcy of Pemberley would never resort to such a scheme, not with his rank, connexions, and wealth.”
“A scheme, was it?” he asked, smiling. “It served me well, all in all. We found our way to each other thanks to those letters.” And also thanks to his cousin placing him in the second tier of subscribers, a confession Fitzwilliam laughingly made when Darcy explained how he had become engaged to his secret correspondent, Elizabeth Bennet.
“You joined because your cousin knew you were always so impatient with women who only wanted to be mistress of your house and purse. And this way, you could compose your thoughts, not say anything rude, and force a lady to actually love you.”
Darcy resigned himself to further teasing. “Did you feel forced into loving me?”
“In a way, I do,” she said, determined to sport with him. “A lady of sense would require some romantic poems, clever conversations, and at least two dances for a gentleman to be deemed worthy of her hand. I could not marry a man who was not a fine dancer, you know. But all I had were a few weeks’ worth of conversations through letters.”
“You forget that I am an excellent dancer, and I fulfilled your two requisite dances before I proposed. I make no guarantee about romantic poems, though.”
She smiled and leant into him as Darcy raised an arm around her shoulders. “Truly, a clever conversationalist is more necessary to me, so I suppose you can forgo writing me any pretty lines.”
“Long and devoted letters, however, I can promise,” he said, pressing a kiss into her hair. “I enjoyed writing to you, and I will do my best to spend a lifetime of writing you as romantic lines as I am able.”
She shifted to look up at him. “You enjoyed writing to L, notme.”
“And you enjoyed writing to F, and that is how you first fell in love with me.”
“Does it bother you?” she asked softly. “That I first fell in love with you without even realising it was you?”
