Two Years Later

The oven timer dings, and Lizzie reaches for her mitts on autopilot. Her left thumb twists her ring to the right orientation before she slips her left hand into the mitt that reads 'Pride' and her right hand into the one that reads 'Prejudice.'

They never did outgrow the book that connected them in the first place.

She hums the song they played at the wedding, with just that much sway in her step. It's a new recipe she picked up thanks to her sojourn into the heart of San Francisco Chinatown last week – and it smells almost as good as the dish she'd stared at the entire time she interviewed the fusion-restauranteur-turned-community-leader.

Who knew cheese and rice worked so well together in a gratin?

She hopes Will will like it.

Then again, he's always all smiles when they both return from their respective business trips. Rosings air travel probably received a huge boost ever since they chose to make this cozy, irreplaceable house their permanent home.

They still vacation elsewhere often, and far be it from her to complain about Will's ritzy Manhattan penthouse and the many hot, hot weekends they've had there.

But there's something special here.

And it's nice to know they're not throwing away the home that Charlotte had lovingly created during her years as mistress of this domain.

"Smells divine in here, Lizzie!"

Lizzie's smile is genuine. "Thanks, Aunt Maddie. I need you and Uncle Ed well filled for your drive back."

"Oh, trust me, you don't have to tell Ed twice," the lovely lady coos before she moves to help Lizzie set the table. "Come, make me useful. Your uncle won't forgive me if you miss a deadline because I've been a passive guest."

Lizzie laughs. "I never miss my deadlines."

"Of course not. Our Lizzie is too good to make any claims of nepotism stick." Aunt Maddie pecks Lizzie on the head before she resumes crafting the napkins into those nice little swans with her magic fingers – and Lizzie's heart warms all over again at the woman who, in a span of less than three years, has become more of a mother to her than her own one ever was.

Lizzie chuckles as they work the finishing touches of their already decent lunch spread. Her ears are on high alert for the sound she's longing the most to hear.

The door swings open as if on cue – and William announces, "I'm home!" in his strong, definite voice.

Lizzie jumps up happily from her seat and runs to the foyer.

It's a good thing Will already put down his suitcase in anticipation before she launches herself into his arms.

"I missed you," she mumbles into his shoulder.

Her shoulder tingles when his five o'clock shadow frames his kiss. "I missed you more."

"There is no way – " She squeals when he lifts her – and it's too bad they have company.

Payback will have to wait.

He doesn't waste much time between his polite goodbyes to the Gardiners and his full-scale, full-court press of husbandly seduction.

He likes these relatives. Their willingness to housesit for their niece (while abiding by all of their rules, no less) is something he truly admires and appreciates.

But there are days when he much prefers to have his lovely wife to himself.

"Will!" She laughs when he lifts her from behind and transports her directly to their bedroom.

He explores her body, as readily as he did in their earliest days of intimacy, with the tenderness of a lifelong lover and the hunger of a returning soldier. He misses her keenly every day they're apart, and there is something special – sacred, even – whenever they get to come together again.

Thank God her response seems to be all joy and agreement today.

He still remembers that day last year when he came back to a sick, sobbing wife and a burglarized basement. It was an incident that proved L'avant's necessity and potential – and drove him to promote the company not just as a passion or business – but as a mission too.

He's thankful their house doesn't share any walls with any neighbors by the time they lay panting, smiling, and smirking next to each other's very sweaty bodies.

"That was something else." She grins, her hair brushing her bare shoulders.

"Yes, it was." He leans over to kiss her, soundly. Her body moves pliably against his. To the outside world, his wife is a five-star journalist, a five-star cook, and a five-star Airbnb superhost.

To him, she's perfect – his very own dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.

"We finished Bridget Jones last time," she announces when she rolls up to get dressed five minutes later. She turns to look at him over her shoulder. "Should we binge BBC again? Or you want to try another one?"

"It's high time they do another remake, isn't it?" Darcy thinks out loud. Sure, watching every available variation on Pride and Prejudice is their homecoming thing – but they're fast running out of fresh material. "Though I did enjoy the web series one."

"It was pretty great." Elizabeth smiles. "Some stories just stand the test of time, you know?"

They do – some stories just do.

And as far as he's concerned, William Darcy likes to think their story will too.

A/N: Thank you so, so much to everyone who has supported this unusual modern AU. I am constantly so very grateful for the support in this fandom. I read and reply to every review as much as I can! I've been struggling the past few days with a stranger basically creating an account just to leave a one-star Amazon review on my book, and it just feels so personal, unfair, and frustrating. Incidents like this make me all the more thankful for the support here! Thank you to each and every one of you who finished this story. You are my biggest motivation! :)