Darcy’s smile was faint, almost wry. “Not noble, madam — merely practical. I would far rather part with a few thousand pounds than endure his mischief again. The thought of the harm he has done, and might yet do, is too disturbing a risk to leave unanswered.”
Mr. Bennet chuckled. “You would rid England of him only to burden the Americas.”
Darcy’s eyes brightened with amusement. “If what my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, says is true, the Americas are full of men as cunning as Wickham himself. I trust they will know how to deal with him.”
Elizabeth could not help but smile. Inwardly, her heart swelled with quiet admiration. His generosity, his fairness even toward one who had wronged him so deeply, touched her deeply.He is the best of men,she thought.The truest I have ever known.
***
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, when the gentlemen and the two Miss Bennets they most wished to attend were persuaded to take a turn in the garden, the light lay clear and cold upon the paths, the air touched with the scent of damp earth and the last of the winter roses. Apollo trotted ahead with his usual elegance, while Pippin, still favouring her paw yet determined to keep pace, followed with cheerful resolve. Jane and Mr. Bingley strolled a little apart, their low laughter blending with the faint rustle of branches overhead.
Darcy and Elizabeth walked on in silence for several moments, the frost beneath their boots giving a soft, crispmurmur with every step. The garden lay pale and still about them, touched with the faint rose-gold of the waning afternoon.
At length Darcy said, “Longbourn’s garden is quite altered since our last walk. Winter sits upon it more gently than I expected.”
Elizabeth smiled. “You have a singular way, sir, of turning our every conversation into a discourse upon gardens.”
He paused, his expression gentling. “Perhaps because my most meaningful conversations appear determined to take place in one.”
She felt her breath catch at that, though she managed a light tone. “Meaningful conversations, Mr. Darcy?”
He faced her fully then. “Yes. Very much so.”
The quiet between them deepened; the distant sound of Jane’s laughter carried faintly over the hedges.
Darcy drew a steady breath. “Elizabeth, when first I spoke of my feelings, I did so in haste, with more emotion than judgment. I was certain of my own regard, yet wholly uncertain of yours, and all too aware that we had not long been acquainted nor, indeed, always on the most agreeable terms.” He paused, his voice dropping to a more intimate quiet. “Since then I have come to see that affection is not commanded, but earned — that true regard grows by understanding. Your companionship has become dearer to me than I ever anticipated. May I hope that your thoughts of me have altered for the better?”
Elizabeth turned toward him, her heart beating rather faster than she wished him to perceive. She had expected many things upon this walk;this question was among them, though its arrival still caught her by surprise. For a moment she could only look at him, arrested by the quiet sincerity in his eyes.
“They have,” she said at last, her voice soft but clear. “More than I ever expected.”
A warm, unguarded light broke across his features. He stepped nearer, though not so near as to alarm her. “Then, Elizabeth… would you allow me the greatest happiness of my life? Will you be my wife?”
Her breath trembled. The moment seemed suspended; even the winter air felt still upon her cheeks. She had not imagined she would hear such words so soon, yet as they fell upon her, something in her heart settled with a sense of rightness she could not deny.
She let out a long, quiet breath. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I will.”
His eyes closed briefly, as if in gratitude, and when he lifted her hand to his lips, she felt the faint tremor in his fingers.
Ahead of them, Bingley turned at the sound of their footsteps and, seeing their joined hands, let out an exclamation of unconcealed delight. “Darcy! Upon my word, I knew it would happen. Jane, did I not tell you?”
Darcy’s smile deepened, though he did not look away from Elizabeth. “So did I,” he said softly.
At that moment Apollo came trotting toward them, with Pippin limping valiantly behind, her tail wagging with all the enthusiasm her paw would allow. Elizabeth knelt to greet them both.
“See,” she said with a laugh she could not restrain, “even our most faithful companions approve.”
Darcy bent beside her, his gaze warm. “And with such judges, I could ask for no greater blessing.”
The winter sun dipped behind the hedges, casting the garden in a gentle amber glow. With the dogs at their feet and the quiet promise of a new life before them, Elizabeth felt a certainty bloom within her. Whatever lay ahead, her heart had already chosen its home.
EPILOGUE
1812
THE WINTER OF 1811 passed in a whirl of celebration and astonishment for the good people of Meryton. By the third week of December, Mr Collins returned to the neighbourhood to claim Miss Charlotte Lucas for his bride, as he had promised before quitting Hertfordshire. Their wedding was attended by most of Meryton and accompanied by whispers of wonder, chiefly at Charlotte’s remarkable composure and Mr Collins’s overwhelming satisfaction with himself.
Mrs Bennet, far from lamenting anything, was in excellent spirits. With Elizabeth already engaged to Mr Darcy of Pemberley, she could afford to be generous. She declared that she was “quite happy for poor Charlotte,” and that “not every woman could be so fortunate as to attract a gentleman of ten thousand a year.” This last remark she repeated often, particularly within Mr Collins’s hearing.
