Page 108 of Compromise & Consequence
…continue reading for how all this ends for our heroine and hero.
Epilogue - 1
“Well, Mrs. Darcy, what do you think?”
Elizabeth rested the back of her head against the broad chest of her husband, relishing in the feel of his strong arms wrapped around her body as they gazed across the land Fitzwilliam proudly called home. She should not have been surprised to find the park so very large. Miss Bingley, during her tenure at Netherfield Park, had gone onad nauseumabout all things Pemberley.
She and Fitzwilliam entered the grounds at one of its lowest points, drove for some time through a beautiful wood, and gradually ascended for half a mile, coming to a halt at the top of a considerable hill where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by Pemberley, situated on the opposite side of a valley. It was here where her husband had the carriage stop, and escorted her to a natural plateau of rocks, whereupon she looked over the picturesque scene of his home.
Pemberley was a large, handsome, stone building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of high woody hills. In front, a stream of some natural importance lazily dissected the manor grounds from the natural wilderness which spread its verdant blanket into a forest of mighty oaks. Elizabeth was delighted.
“Are you lost for words?”
He pressed again for her answer.
“I have never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty has been so little counteracted by an awkward taste.” She placed her small hands over his large ones which fell naturally on her stomach. “What a perfect place toraise our son or daughter.”
He went completely still and she knew he had yet to release his quick intake of air.
“Am I to assume you have news?” he finally said on a soft exhale of breath which rustled the curls on the nape of her neck.
“I felt the quickening a few days ago.” She pressed his hands against her belly. “I had my suspicions for a while, but wanted to wait and make sure.”
He turned her in his arms and kissed her fully on the mouth before pulling her into a tight hug and spinning them around.
“Fitzwilliam!” she cried out with a laugh. “The poor child will come out dizzy if you persist.”
Immediately, he halted mid-swing and placed her feet back onto terra firm, both hands gripping her shoulders to steady her stance.
“Forgive me, Elizabeth. I did not mean to… I am just so overjoyed… The babe…”
She placed a finger against his lips, effectively stopping his flow of jumbled words.
“Shh… the babe and I are fine. I am a hardy country girl you know. A little spin of happiness will not harm us.”
“How I love you.” He gathered her into her arms and enveloped her in a warm embrace. She relished the sound of his heart beating in her ear, and the rumble of his deep voice as he spoke. “I would assume this explains your slight fatigue and lack of appetite these past weeks.”
“I took no notice at first with all the excitement around Lady Catherine and then my court presentation. Still, I should have recognized the signs. When my breakfast revisited me several mornings in a row, understanding knocked on my dull brain.”
“You, my dear, do not have a dull brain.”
“You do when you have not slept through one night complete,” – he tightened his grip because they both knew what kept them awake – “and when you are knitting a baby inside your body.”
“Knitting a baby?” He chuckled. “I do not believe I have heard this process described quite like that.”
“It is found in Psalm 139. The actual verse reads that the Lord has covered the baby in the womb, but Mr. Ashbury, you may remember him as the gentleman who married us, told me the word used in the original writings meant to knit or weave. I have always loved that concept. It means the baby is being created with care and love.”
“I will adopt that verse as one of my favorites as well. Right after go forth and multiply. I can heartily get behind that command.”
She playfully swatted his arm.
“You are a rogue, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
“Yes, but I am your rogue, Elizabeth Darcy.”
He tipped her chin up with one finger and brushed her lips with his. Meeting no resistance, he slanted his mouth over hers and deepened the kiss. When he stepped back, she remained in that attitude, eyes still closed. Slowly, a smile emerged.
“I believe, Mr. Darcy, your favorite verse is fast becoming my preference,” she whispered in a voice made husky by desire.
