Page 181 of Companions of Their Youth
He dared not move.
The memories of the night washed over him, filling him with awe.
He had expected love. Had expected pleasure, even passion.
But what he had not expected—what had taken him utterly by surprise—was the reverence of it. The way her eyes had met his, unguarded. The way she had trusted him, answered him, held nothing back. He had not simply been pleased. He had been undone.
It had been sacred.
The words from the wedding ceremony the previous day echoed in his mind.
With my body, I thee worship.
He had always thought it an odd phrase, but that was because he had not understood it fully until last night.
She stirred slightly, pressing closer in her sleep. He kissed the top of her head.
And then, quietly, in the stillness of morning, he closed his eyes and breathed a prayer.
He thanked God.
For bringing him to her. For humbling his heart. For granting him not only a wife, but a companion of mind and soul. For allowing him to feel what he had once thought impossible: that he was no longer alone.
That he was whole.
I will love her as You have taught me, he whispered silently. And I will spend my life showing her, in word and deed, how precious she is to me.
He drew her close again, warmth rising in his chest.
And for the first time in his life, Fitzwilliam Darcy felt entirely, absolutely, complete.
Epilogue
Five years later…
The carriage rolled to a stop in front of Longbourn, and Elizabeth Darcy stepped down, her gloved hand tucked into her husband’s arm. The scent of late summer rain hung in the air, mingling with the earthy hint of harvest and dust from the road. Though they had left Pemberley nearly four days earlier, she felt the ache of fatigue only now, at the sight of the house where she had once danced and dreamed and wept.
Lady Georgiana Beaumont, née Darcy, stepped down next, her eyes solemn. Behind her, the two Darcy boys—Bennet and Richard— bounded out, laughing as they raced one another up the front walk, their boots scuffing the gravel. The nurse followed behind, carrying baby Jane in her arms. Elizabeth opened her mouth to chide them but stopped. Not today. Today was not a day for scolding.
Inside, the halls of Longbourn were quiet. A hush had settled over the household, broken only by the ticking of the old clock and the muffled movements of servants. Mr. Bennet was upstairs, his breaths shallow, his words few. He had rallied the week before when they had first received the letter, even dictating a short note to Elizabeth himself, asking her to come quickly.
Now, the end was near.
Darcy took her hand as they entered the drawing room. “Are you certain you wish to see him just yet?”
She nodded. “He asked for me.”
In the master’s chambers, Elizabeth sat beside her father’s bed. His eyes opened at her touch, and for a moment, they cleared.
“You came,” he whispered.
“Of course I came,” she said gently, brushing a hand down his wrist. “You promised to stay until I had children—and I have three. You must stay long enough to tease them all in turn.”
He smiled faintly. “I have teased the eldest. That shall have to suffice.”
She bowed her head. “We love you, Papa. We all do.”
His gaze drifted past her, to where Darcy stood in the doorway. “You… were a good choice,” he said slowly. “Tell your husband… I am proud of you both.”
