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“I can offer no reasonable explanation for Lady Catherine’s egregious conduct. No doubt, she will answer to a higher power. What I can do, however, is offer you my sincerest apology. How can I make amends?” Darcy asked.

“After what you have done, I believe I ought to be the one asking you that question, sir.”

“You owe me no apology.”

“I believe I do. You did all you could to impress upon me the need to warn my father about Mr. Wickham’s true character. My family might have avoided all that happened had I listened. However, I was too impressed with my own opinion to give consequence to those in dissent.”

“In fairness to you,” he continued, “you had every right to hold steadfast to your beliefs rather than abandon them on the mere suggestion from people whom you had just met—strangers for all intents and purposes.”

After a moment of silence, Darcy said, “Your steadfastness is but one of the things I admire most about you.”

Elizabeth’s silence encouraged him to continue his speech—to say the things he had hoped to say when they were in Hunsford.

“If allowed to speak from my heart, openly and without reserve, I would elaborate in great detail on all the other things I admire about you, but I fear that would take the rest of the day and deep into the night. In other words, what I mean to say is this.”

He halted his steps, encouraging her to do likewise, and gazed into her eyes. “I love you, most ardently. I knew it from the moment I first laid eyes on you. Although I understand that you might not share or even welcome the sentiments I have espoused, especially in view of what I have told you about Lady Catherine’s egregious behavior.”

“You are wrong, sir. I—I do love you.”

He took a quick breath. “You love me, Elizabeth?”

Smiling warmly, she shook her head. As a measure of reassurance, she added, “I believe I fell in love with you long before I even knew it myself.”

“In that case, there is but one thing that remains to be said.” Darcy lowered himself to one knee and took her hand in his. “Marry me, Elizabeth. Make me the happiest man in the world. Say yes.”

Tears of joy filled her eyes. “Yes!” Elizabeth cried. “Yes!”

Standing, Darcy seized Elizabeth in his arms, lifted her from the ground, and spun around. Lowering her, he wanted nothing more than to keep her forever in his loving embrace. The ensuing happiness that this occasion produced was such as neither of them ever felt before, and the lovers resumed walking, both listening to the other’s expressions of heartfelt delight over all their future life as man and wife held in store.

Both of them in their turn made some mention of the particulars that had laid the foundation for their current bliss, be it the hour, the spot, the look and the words. In a bout of playfulness, Elizabeth attributed his fascination to her impertinence, a fact he was hard pressed to deny, but it was more than that, he affirmed in honest declarations—so much more.

At length, the question of when and how to inform the people who meant the most to them of their plans was raised. Darcy, being his own master, needed neither the consent nor blessing of anyone, but he took comfort in knowing that his sister’s joy was assured.

For Elizabeth’s part, she was certain there would be no dissension from anyone of consequence—her mother would surely be ecstatic and her father content—but she was not unaware that there would be detractors. She told Mr. Darcy as much.

“There are those who might argue that our affirmation of ardent affection came about rather swiftly, sir.”

“Swiftly, my love? I think not, for I have waited my whole life for you.” He really had. Let others say what they may, he silently considered, turning to face his future wife. Wanting to reassure her from the depths of his heart of exactly how much she meant to him, he said, “Think of it this way, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.” He placed his hand under her chin. Leaning closer, he spoke tenderly, “What does the extent of the prior passage of time matter in view of the fact that we have the next five—” he bestowed a soft kiss atop her forehead “—ten—” he kissed her cheek “—fifteen—” he kissed her other cheek “—twenty—” he spoke tenderly, gazing into her amazing dark eyes. Darcy brushed his lips gently against Elizabeth’s before whispering “—twenty-five and more years of falling deeper and deeper in love to sustain the two of us?”

EPILOGUE

A MONTH OR SO LATER …

Two daughters married and three more to get rid of—the eldest of which might easily boast of having a man who was more than half in love with her already! What a happy time indeed this was for Mrs. Bennet. Finally, she was able to look past the injustice of her half friend, half enemy’s daughter stealing Longbourn’s heir apparent from Elizabeth. Mr. Collins was nothing at all in comparison to Mr. Darcy. What did it matter that the former might throw her and her unmarried daughters into the hedgerows as soon as Mr. Bennet departed the earth? What did any of that matter to her in the grand scheme of things?

She took prodigious comfort in placating herself with the notion that there was to be a wedding at Netherfield in mere months—weeks if she could arrange matters to suit her purposes. Mrs. Bennet did not plan to live forever. She fancied she would be just as comfortable spending the rest of her days at Netherfield as anywhere else. Then, too, there was the added security of her second eldest daughter’s new home, Pemberley. Indeed, life at Pemberley must certainly afford every convenience that ought to be enjoyed during one’s glory years. Such a life would suit Mrs. Bennet just fine.

Such may have been the feelings of Mrs. Bennet; however, her husband, if he had his way, did not intend on departing this earth anytime soon. He took far too much pleasure in the solace of his library surrounded by his books, his crafts, and various other cherished possessions that he had carefully amassed throughout his years. On the other hand, he could well imagine the library at Pemberley as being one of the finest in the land. Although the idea of traveling held little appeal, already he planned to visit his favorite daughter at her new home with some frequency and always when she and her husband least expected it.

As to the matter of an impending alliance between his eldest daughter and that wealthy young man from town, Mr. Bennet’s hopes were not quite as ambitious as his wife’s. Then again, it was his wife’s way to nurse even the most fledgling evidence of affection towards one of her unwed daughters as much as was needed to produce a healthy proposal of marriage. As much as he liked to laugh at her manner of carrying out the sole business of her life, how could he do anything but admire his lady for her convictions, especially since she managed things with so little trouble to himself?

In truth, there was real evidence of more than a trifling affection between Jane and Mr. Bingley even if some people—particularly those closest to him—refused to see it. His sisters were busy hatching plans to remove their only brother from such a disastrous alliance. They liked Jane well enough, but they secretly cherished the idea of an alliance between the Bingleys and the Darcys. In their minds, no other young woman in all of England was better suited for their only brother than Miss Georgiana Darcy.

Two alliances would have been better, the sisters often liked to complain to each other. However, Miss Eliza Bennet had seen an end to that happy prospect by stealing Mr. Darcy. If they did not do anything else, they meant to wipe away the possibility that their own brother would also fall prey to a Bennet daughter.

Elizabeth, for her part, saw early on what the Bingley sisters were about. She gave them no mind. Though she never wished to suppose that she and her mother were of the same mind on anything, Elizabeth, too, could not deny that Charles Bingley was more than half in love with her sister. While she could not disagree with those who would argue that Jane’s sentiments were not so easily discerned as her lover’s, anyone who knew Jane best knew that her heart had truly been touched. Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy would have cause to return to Hertfordshire in no time at all. Of that she was absolutely certain.

Where the future marital prospects of her sisters Mary and Kitty were concerned, here again, Elizabeth was of the same mind as her mother. The chances of her sisters being thrown into the path of other rich gentlemen had increased one hundred fold. Elizabeth planned to do everything in her power to see that they were. It was not so much that the future gentlemen needed to be rich—although such a fate would not be looked down upon—what really mattered was that these as yet unknown gentlemen were decent and upright. After all, all the wealth and power in the world meant nothing in the absence of honor and respectability. Such had been Elizabeth’s guiding principles, and her sisters would do well to adhere to them as well. She planned to make certain they did.