“Yes. My parents think the end of March will be suitable for travelling. The Gardiners and the Bingleys will follow later, in the spring and summer.”
He sighed, with such impatience that she regarded him with amusement; then she spoke in a tone that surprised him.
“Only make certain that, at Pemberley, my apartment is very near yours.”
He faltered for a moment. They were in the midst of the dance, and he could do nothing but continue. Still, his imagination had already carried her far beyond the ballroom—to Pemberley…to his room…to remain.
∞∞∞
London required only a few weeks—and the murmured words of Lady Axton, spoken under Lady Matlock’s attentive gaze—to take pleasure in Darcy’s return to life.
At the Christmas ball held at the Duke of Fairleigh’s house, Lady Matlock’s brother, and before a sufficiently large company, Lady Axton determined that the connection between Darcy and Miss Bennet should become visible and a subject of cheerful, respectful conversation.
“I believe that, this time, Mr Darcy has understood that feelings in a marriage are of far greater importance than other considerations,” she said, with a knowing smile, after all Londonhad seen them dance together more than once, though the ball was scarcely half over.
“Other considerations?” asked Lady Belford, known for her rigid principles, which were no longer widely shared in the new century. “What do you mean, my dear friend?”
“I mean that we must allow our children to choose, with their hearts, whom they wish to share their lives with, and not impose upon them a union founded solely upon family interests.”
The allusion was so clear that Lady Matlock inclined her head in agreement, for to an outside observer it might indeed appear that the family had interfered in Darcy’s first marriage.
“Great families cannot preserve their influence without regard to those interests which you seem inclined to dismiss.”
“I believe my contempt is scarcely needed to reveal the unfortunate consequences of matches arranged by parents and family. Mr Darcy will choose with his heart this time, and I am certain he will be happy. And if his intentions are serious, we shall support them in overcoming these present difficulties of waiting.”
That was sufficient. It became understood that they were both in earnest, and a cheerful and compassionate London took it upon itself to support them. From that moment, Darcy was never invited without Miss Bennet receiving an invitation as well. And when they all departed for Pemberley, they did not trouble themselves to conceal anything, for society stood entirely on their side. Their happiness became a subject of general celebration and acceptance, for the rules of decorum might, at times, be set aside when the happiness of two deserving individuals was at stake.
Epilogue
More than a year after his first marriage, the divorce was pronounced, and Parliament issued the bill confirming it.
They were in London when the document arrived, borne by a special emissary. The whole family was gathered in the parlour, waiting for the paper that would bring an end to so long a period of uncertainty and expectation.
Moments earlier, alone in Elizabeth’s parlour, they had sat in quiet anticipation before joining the others.
“It is impossible that we should be refused permission to marry,” Darcy said, looking at Elizabeth, who appeared less assured. “But what shall we do if it is denied?”
Elizabeth rose and began to pace the room. There had been a time when all hope had deserted her—when life without him had seemed empty and without purpose. She had agreed to enter society and to know his friends only because they mattered to him. For herself, nothing existed beyond Darcy. So long as she had him, she was prepared to shape whatever life might be required.
“We shall defy them, and be happy together,” she said, with a gesture towards the town beyond the windows. “We have each other—and we always shall.”
On a nearby table lay an opened letter, the latest from America. A delicate watercolour accompanied it, depicting a woman standing before a fine house. Anne had written to wish them well. Once more, she had apologised for her marriage to Darcy. In the end, the composed figure before that house in Philadelphia had, in her way, secured their happiness.
“Do not be uneasy, my love,” Darcy said. “It is only a formality. His Grace is a reasonable and compassionate man.”
Still, Elizabeth could not entirely trust it. When they joined the others in the parlour, she looked about her at their assembled families and friends, all waiting for the conclusion of their long trial.
Darcy broke the heavy seal of the Archbishop of Canterbury. He read the first line—and could not restrain his emotion. Elizabeth, alarmed, feared at once that permission had been refused. She took the letter from his hands and read only a single sentence:
“His Grace, Charles Manners-Sutton, Archbishop of Canterbury, grants Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy the right to marry.”
A collective breath of relief filled the room. Mr Bennet was the first to take the document and read it through.
“Yes,” he said at last. “His Grace has decided in Darcy’s favour—in your favour,” he added, as he embraced Elizabeth.
The letter passed from hand to hand, and soon congratulations followed for the future bride and bridegroom.
On a windy day in December, Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy were married in London.
