The bells of St. Dunstan's Church rang loudly as Mr. and Mrs. Darcy walked out the big, mahogany doors to greet their family and friends as husband and wife. But, rather than get in their carriage to be transported to the wedding reception, the newly-weds decided to take a walk in the snow.
As they strolled through a winter wonderland, Elizabeth Darcy wrapped her fluffy, white, hooded cape around her to shelter herself against the cold until her husband warmed her by holding her close. Mr. Darcy wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed her head with an ardent sigh. They walked in silence, smiling at nothing in particular, until they reached a magnificent spot. There was a sudden break in the icicle-covered trees where you could see the snowy mountains in full detail. But what made this sight so magical was the fact that the sun was shining through the smallest of cracks in the clouds, causing the mountains to glisten and glow. Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam stared in awe at this entrancing view then sat down in the snow, still holding each other to warn away the cold.
Without looking at her husband, Mrs. Darcy asked him, "Well, Mr. Darcy, how does it feel to be a married man?"
Darcy kissed her cheek and replied "Terrible," with a sly yet fervent grin.
His wife laughed in return. "Oh, really?" She turned to look at him as she asked, "Pray, why is that, sir?"
"Well, my love, I am merely beginning to pity myself for not being this happy a long time ago." He then delicately kissed her brow, then her nose, then her lips, and they both knew they would truly be 'the happiest couple in the world.'
They then laid back onto the snow-covered ground, despite the dampness and dirt it brought their wedding clothes and the snow and ice it entangled in their hair. It did not matter. Nothing else mattered anymore.
Elizabeth rested her head on Darcy's chest as she studied the loveliness of the scenery until her husband began to question her.
"Mrs. Darcy?"
"Hmm?" was her quiet reply.
"How does it feel to be a married woman?"
"Oh! I feel just as terrible as you do!"
He smirked, and she giggled under her breath, and the beauty of silence continued until Darcy observed, "You know, I imagined many moments like this one last year, during Christmastime at Pemberley. I would look outside and see you, as my home's mistress, walking through the snow, dressed grandly in white, with snowflakes sparkling on your eyelashes. Your eyes looked even more beautiful, if that is possible." As he spoke of her eyes, he kissed each one in turn, slowly and passionately, and then continued recalling his fantasies. "And I was always standing right behind you." He paused, then went on. "We would stop our walk, and you would lean against a tree that was overflowing with icicles. Like this!" He helped his bride to her feet and positioned her against a tree. Once he found her stance to be precise, Darcy stepped back to view Elizabeth in full. "Yes." He smiled. "Yes, exactly like that. And you would always be laughing!" He smirked again. "At what I do not know! Perhaps at my stupidity." She laughed at his joke, and every fiber in her being was filled with happiness and affection. Darcy stared at her in loving wonder. "Yes….That is precisely how it was," he whispered. "The only exception being how much better it is in reality." He raced toward her, and, forcing Elizabeth to lean against the tree once more, kissed her so passionately that no kiss since has nor ever shall be its equal.
Darcy stopped and, with his eyes still closed, said in a low-pitched whisper, "This cannot be real…..Dreams cannot become reality." He then opened his eyes and stepped back, gazing upon Elizabeth with a look that held every ounce of ecstasy in existence, and added, "Yet it is," and stepped near her once more as he whispered, "and they have." This time she kissed him, and the two leaned so far into the seclusion of the tree that they were barely visible behind its branches. His lips only slightly parted from hers, he whispered breathlessly, surely, "I love you, Mrs. Darcy…" She smiled and they continued to kiss, while Darcy said in an entrancingly deep voice, at every available moment, "Mrs. Darcy….Mrs. Darcy….Mrs. Darcy…." his whisper growing softer each time he said her name, till it became a captivating, glorious sigh. "Mrs. Darcy…."
THE END