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  The ladies' chatter dwindled when he and Darcy took themselves to his study, until the large oak door rendered the sounds entirely inaudible.

  Darcy, with utter ease, poured each of them a glass of port before settling in his favorite chair.

  Bingley took his seat himself, and the friends kept each other company – no word exchanged until the cackle of the fire echoed louder than their breathing.

  “Thank you – for your invitation,” Bingley repeated his earlier sentiments, with even deeper conviction now.

  “Thank you for accepting,” Darcy replied again, smile in place, before taking a sip from his glass. “It is wise, is it not, to meet amongst ourselves before the Constable bears witness to our encounters once more?”

  “Very wise – and wonderful.” Bingley could no longer stay his sentiments. Contentment filled his chest and threatened to overflow right upon the crimson rug. His smile stretched widely over his own face. “You suggest well.”

  “My wife –” Darcy's smile was bright “– suggested well. We are blessed men, Bingley. Heaven has its own way of righting it all – wouldn't you agree? I have never seen you happier.”

  Their glasses met in a cheerful toast.

  “Most definitely.” Bingley smiled.

  Chapter 15

  He felt pride of the highest degree when, a few shorts days after their dinner gathering, he aided his lovely Elizabeth as she descended the Darcy carriage. It was the same meeting house, the same location in every way. There were, however, no villagers today. There were no candles or flowers. The dim, romantic lights of a confirmation night had been replaced by the harsh noonday sun. They encountered no formal entrance into the grand hall. The side door was their means of entry today – a small passage for what must have felt like an entirely insignificant day to the groggy Constable.

  But Darcy couldn't be happier.

  “Are you ready?” He asked, close by Elizabeth's ear, as they approached their humble entryway.

  “More than one could ever be.” Her words shone as brightly as her smile. He smiled joyfully in return.

  The dusty court was by no means presentable when they came upon it at last. The humdrum of multiple couples confirming their vows – a noise his mind so firmly associated with this location – was completely absent today. One could hear a cricket, if the Constable had not been snoring so loudly.

  “Sir,” Darcy addressed the man first, after an extensive clearing of his throat.

  Elizabeth, dazzling in her simple elegance, clung happily to his side. Her arms around his waist left no question as to the state of her heart. His own swelling chest left no question of his response as well.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Darcy!” The exclamation arrived with two happy faces emerging through the door – the faces attached to limbs just as entangled as Darcy's and Elizabeth's.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Bingley,” Darcy greeted, smile belying the formality of his words.

  The sisters giggled at each other, neither releasing their holds on their respective husbands.

  Husbands, yes – his conversation with Bingley had assured him enough of that significant nominal shift.

  “Well, well,” the Constable roused when one least expected – his hands still rubbing weary, dark eyes. All four individuals dutifully faced the man who held authority over their fates, however little he may seem as if he did. “A fortnight flies by, doesn't it?”

  Darcy nodded mutely, as did the others.

  “Have we each and every one come to a decision?” The morning light, it seemed, scared away some of the heavy man's confusion. His remembrance of the situation, at least, warranted praise. “Are we to maintain or revoke?”

  They had not previously agreed upon any course of action – but both couples seemed to have chosen upon smiling in response.

  “What? Nothing to say?” The Constable stretched himself with one long, lazy moan. “Such a waste of time now, isn't this? No one wishes to choose?”

  A muted giggle escaped someone; Darcy could not tell whom.

  “Unless, of course,” the Constable mumbled on, “there has been reason not to choose? You have – oh, wait, you all – you have completed, have you not?”

  The bulging creature leaned forward on his chair – nearly tumbling over the bannister. His sudden alertness was both amusing and terrifying.

  “Such clinging and ogling and hugging – utterly – this is why – oh, to hell with it.” He scoffed before dropping back on his august chair. “Shall we confirm those vows then?”

  “Yes, please,” was everyone's united reply.

  • • •

  “In the presence of God and man, we gather here tonight – well, today in joyful celebration,” the Constable mumbled, minimally coherent. Jane was grateful, at least, that the man was awake.

  “It is with hope and with gladness that we uplift these couples to His holy care – that He who saved us from the darkness of sin may preserve them with love and mercy for the duration of their earthly lives.”

  She could feel Charles pulling her closer. She gladly let him. The words were foreign – a hint of a memory from a dark, disturbing time.

  “As we gather together to witness the confirmation of their happiness,” the Constable spoke and yawned alternately, “let us hear from each individual their words of love and promise.”

  He gestured with his pudgy fingers, guiding each couple to stand facing each other. She removed her head from Charles' chest unwillingly, but obediently. They each clung tightly onto the other's hands.

  “Mr. Darcy,” the Constable called upon the other couple first, “shall you not pledge your love for your wife?”

  “I shall,” came her new brother's distant reply.

  Jane smiled at her own husband while his friend swore his lifelong devotion to her sister. She did not listen too intently, only hearing a stray word here and there. Darcy spoke of ardor and of reward, of loyalty and union. Jane thought she heard him speak of courage as well, though she wondered why one would praise a woman thus.

  The syntax was so complex, in truth, that she barely understood what he muttered to Elizabeth.

  It did not matter, she supposed, what she thought – for dear, wise, lively Elizabeth seemed to understand enough.

  “Fitzwilliam!” Elizabeth whispered loudly before embracing him. Jane wondered slightly if she would be permitted one moment to embrace her own man as well.

  “Mrs. Darcy, shall you?” The Constable ordered, and Elizabeth's voice rang loud and clear – amplified by the sparsely populated room.

  “My dearest Fitzwilliam – oh how long and winding is the road that has taken us to stand here today!”

  Jane smiled, fondly remembering how Elizabeth's frankness and wit had always been her identifying traits. Whenever Mama had cornered them with her incessant nagging, Jane would smile while Elizabeth retorted. The latter's action, of course, hadn't sat well with Mama.

  It was a relief to know it seemed to sit well with Mr. Darcy.

  “Mr. Bingley, shall you?” The Constable's attention had, at some point, been diverted to them – all while Jane had ignored her sister's vows.

  She almost felt ashamed.

  “Jane – my loveliest, radiant, kindliest Jane!” Charles kissed her hands. She longed to kiss him back elsewhere. “I – I cannot find words sufficient to describe my love for you. I promise – I promise with my entire being to love you with every breath until my last. I vow never to even glance at another – knowing that I hold the best in my arms. Your beauty and goodness render me the happiest man in the entire world!”

  She barely noticed the clearing of throats from the two other men present. Her eyes focused on Charles alone.

  “I confirm, with all my heart, that I shall be your loyal husband for as long as we both shall live.” Charles finished his words with another kiss on her knuckles.

  Jane felt her heart swelling well past her body's ability to contain it.

  “Oh Charles!” She exclaimed before t
he Constable had chance to declare it her turn. “I am blessed – beyond all earthly measure – to be allowed into your life. Your goodness and amiability is beyond comprehension. You are the best man I have ever come to know. I love you. I promise – forever.”

  The Constable chuckled lightly, as did Elizabeth and her husband. Jane only noticed for so long before Charles' kisses made all other thoughts take flight.

  It was a blessing, in many ways, to have today's privacy.

  It would not do to act so brazenly before a crowd.

  The ones present today, at least – understood.

  • • •

  “Oh!”

  He did love the way she yelped in surprise.

  Heaven forgive him if his joy was founded on her unease.

  “Charles, you tease!” She giggled in his arms, and he could not help burying his nose in her hair. Her waist felt particularly small whenever he embraced her from behind, and he lifted her with little effort.

  “Charles! Caroline would hear!” She cried, smiling, when he pulled them into her bedroom – now fully decorated with her belongings – and landed them sideways on her bed. She laughed in her elegant, feminine, Jane sort of way. “Charles, you do love surprising me.”

  “Yes, I do.” It was his turn to smile. He propped his head with his hand, his right elbow anchoring him on the feathery mattress. He kissed her gently on the lips. “I hope only to bring the good kind, however.”

  “Your every surprise is lovely, Charles.” Her smile, golden-haired and pink-lipped, was mere inches from his face. He leaned closer. “Your every promise was delightful.”

  “Not as much as yours were,” he answered sincerely. “To know you love me – that you love me forever – oh, Jane, I cannot find the words to say –”

  “You do not have to,” she assured. Her head fit perfectly in the crook of his arm. He held her close. The afternoon sun streamed through the curtains and kissed her hair. He kissed her hair too.

  “I am blessed, Jane – beyond understanding.”

  “I am blessed, Charles.”

  “I believe myself more blessed.”

  “But it is I who am.” Her face, beaming up towards him, was disarming.

  “No,” he muttered, absent-minded, “I am.”

  He kissed her soundly, caring little if Caroline or the servants heard. His sister knew him to be in love. She would not disturb.

  After months on end of tears and turmoil, he and Jane had encountered the wonder of today at last. They made promises today – confirmed their shared intent to share every day of this life together. Those were promises he planned on keeping with every fiber of his being.

  He could think of no better way to celebrate.

  “Charles!” She both gasped and giggled at her discovery of his stealthy unbuttoning.

  “Jane.” He kissed her lips, distracting her as he could.

  • • •

  “A woman of ardor, loyalty, and courage? Why, you make me sound impossible!” Elizabeth laughed as she spun into the room. He followed quickly on her heels before shutting the door behind them.

  This would not do.

  This simply would not do.

  “You put me on a pedestal, love, and I am dearly afraid I shall fall!” She turned to face him at the end of her latest spiral – and walked back to stand with him. “Fitzwilliam –”

  “You deserved every praise I stated and more,” he replied, making every effort to maintain an appearance of serenity. He smiled gently. “I do not lie, Elizabeth. You know the fact full well.”

  “I worry that you lie without knowing, Fitzwilliam – to yourself.” Her arms snaked around his waist. He welcomed her embrace and held her closely in turn. “I hope you do not discover the fact too soon, however. It would not do to lose my husband so soon after finding him!”

  One side of his lips lifted of its own accord.

  This would not do.

  “I would like to think I was the one to have found you.”

  “The second time, yes.” She smiled – radiant, magnificent. “But you said that it was fate the first time – did you not?”

  “Yes.” He kissed her nose, his smile inevitable. “Fate and a heavy dose of your aunt's so-called mistake.”

  “You did not say so at the Constable's.”

  “I did not have to. You, at long last, were mine. I was not about to nitpick as to how such a miracle came to be.” His voice turned heavy without trying.

  This would not do.

  He – a man who prided himself on decorum and prudence – was becoming a bumbling fool. What sort of man said such passionate words before other people? What sort of man referred to his wife as “the dearest earthly reward I could ever have believed possible – deposited by Providence into my humble arms” when the Constable – the actual bumbling fool, in many senses – watched on?

  Love made him a fool, he realized.

  And his lovely wife seemed bent upon reminiscing his every foolish moment.

  “You did not find my words – overly affectionate?” He asked tentatively when she began to play with his cravat. Their eventful morning, he hoped, would not come close to the thrills he hoped to share with her this afternoon and evening.

  There was good reason he asked Mrs. Reynolds to place those roses in his room.

  “You are a man of passion,” said Elizabeth, eyes starry. Her supple lips hovered by his chin. “I would not have expected any less.”

  “You expected my declarations?” It was his turn to wonder. His chuckle was deep, sure. “I had never thought myself to be one to wear his heart so openly upon his sleeve.”

  “But I like it there very much, nonetheless.” She smiled brightly, gloriously – exhibiting every pint of the immaculate happiness to which her vows had referred. “I love you dearly, Fitzwilliam. I count myself blessed to hear you describe emotions equal to mine.”

  “That is preposterous,” he stated. Her eyes widened more – until he smiled. “It is impossible, Elizabeth, for you to love me as I love you.”

  “You think I do not love you?” She sounded genuinely affronted.

  “No!” He pressed her close before she could escape. “Your loyalty to our union – did I not mention how much I admire your goodness and unwavering affection? Elizabeth, if I had but one more day to live, I would spend every moment groveling at your feet in the attempt to convince you of your –”

  “No!” It was her turn to exclaim. Her hands crossed tautly behind his neck. Her face drew close until it almost pressed against his. “I intend to spend an entire lifetime with you, darling. You had better not die the very next day.”

  He smiled at her good humor. She did not try to hide her pride.

  “I love you, Fitzwilliam.”

  “I love you, Elizabeth.”

  Kissing, it appeared, left little room for speaking. Ardent kissing, in particular, elicited sounds of an entirely different nature.

  The roses in his room were unnecessary towards increasing her enthusiasm, Darcy found soon enough – though they proved rather useful in framing her radiance in a manner so as to heighten his passions to an almost unbearable state. The dusty sunset colors shrouded the room with serenity and nostalgia, though it was a nostalgia he did not need.

  Fitzwilliam Darcy had seldom found himself sated by life so well. He had been content, by choice, plenty of times. He had chosen to be glad, even, upon certain occasions. To be so incandescently happy, so universally blessed with overwhelming felicity as he was today – was a feeling of an entirely new kind.

  It was a feeling, he found, that he liked very much.

  • • •

  “Was it truly she?”

  His mind, hazy from their latest exchange, barely heard her.

  “Fitzwilliam?”

  “Yes, my love?” He kissed her crown, her luscious hair spread generously over his bare chest. Their panting was interspersed among their words. Her curves – ample and naked – pressed intoxicatingly against his
body. Twice in a day, he found, was almost not enough. He was lucky that Pemberley required little oversight to properly run. “Was it who?”

  “You mentioned Aunt Gardiner?” Her voice began to squeak, and he wondered if he imagined the change in tone.

  “I saw her – yes. She stood behind the bushes by the main door.” His hand stroked her back in languid, wandering motions. “Perhaps she meant to congratulate us.”

  “Perhaps.”

  She fell silent for a few moments. He continued to hold her close.

  He had caught but a glimpse of the matchmaker today and had quickly given her presence little thought.

  The revelation, however, seemed to affect his wife much more profoundly.

  “Do you think she was attempting to apologize?” She did not look at him, merely asked his chest.

  “Perhaps.”

  He felt her nod against his skin. He kissed her forehead, unprompted.

  “Do you believe her act deliberate?” It was his turn to ask a moment hence. The question hung openly in the still bedroom air.

  “Perhaps.”

  There was very little they could do, he must admit. Whether the initial, so-called mistake was an act of nature or human choice – neither of them knew. There was little chance Mrs. Gardiner would ever admit to any willful intent on her part, even if such intent had existed.

  She was foremost a matchmaker, and her clients' trust in the integrity of her pairings was not a sacrifice she could ever be called upon to make.

  “We can help her,” Darcy said, uncertain of his own conclusion.

  “At our third meeting?” She, as always, understood him before he himself could.

  “Yes.” He smiled at the view of a striking Elizabeth as she propped upon his breast. “We shall have one – I believe?”

  “Yes, to provide advice on future pairings.”

  “The very one.”

  The system was both wise and incredibly foolish, at times.

  He kissed Elizabeth on the lips. “Would you ever wish to be a matchmaker?”