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"I shall welcome every moment of the chaos, my love," he said, planting a gentle kiss on her head and resting one hand tenderly on her still flat stomach. They sat for several minutes, each content to bask in the happy glow of their wonderful news.
"Do you know," she said after a while, "I have been thinking about that wretched mirror and spellbook. I still cannot decide whether there was any magic in it, or whether it showed me something I was too stubborn to recognise for myself."
Darcy laughed softly. "Is it awful to say I do not care? Whether it was ancient magic or just a trick of the light, it brought you to me, and I shall forever be grateful to Lydia and her wretched book of spells."
Elizabeth smiled and reached up to smooth a wayward lock of hair from his forehead. Had it really been only a year since that night at Netherfield? She remembered standing on the terrace wrapped in his coat, still feeling the effects of his kiss and wondering why on earth he had ran from her. And to think she had almost allowed him to leave without discovering how he felt! Now here she was, Mrs Darcy, with a husband she adored and their first child on the way. She could never have imagined such happiness when she looked into that silly old mirror.
"I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy," she said, reaching up to kiss him. "And I am very glad I did not let you run away from me that night."
"As am I, my love. Although I do wish you would stop reminding me of it."
"Oh, I shall never stop reminding you, William. I intend to tell our children all about how their father kissed their mother and then ran away like a frightened rabbit."
He groaned and pulled her closer. "Then I shall have to ensure they hear my version of events first."
"And what version would that be, sir?"
"That their mother was the most beautiful, infuriating woman I had ever met, and that I was so hopelessly in love with her I could scarcely think straight."
"Well," she said, smiling as he bent to kiss her, "I suppose that is a version I can live with."
The End
