Copyright 2021 Elizabeth Frerichs

Darcy sat in the library, attempting to distract himself with a book of sonnets. Everything was ready for the morrow. He and Elizabeth—he and his wife—would be leaving for Darcy House directly after the wedding breakfast. During their last trip to London, he had given the servants instructions regarding their arrival and had picked up his mother's wedding ring from the jeweller who had ensured it was properly sized. His clothing for the morrow was pressed and laid out; his valet was even now packing the rest of it.

His eager preparations had left him with nothing to do, despite having two more hours until he wished to retire (if he even could manage to sleep!). Tomorrow, he and Elizabeth would become man and wife. He was not anxious about it per se—though he had dreamt twice this week that he had forgotten what to say and Elizabeth had changed her mind about marrying him. In daylight, however, Darcy knew Elizabeth would kindly bear with him even if he did stumble through the ceremony.

A wriggling worm of worry as to how society would treat Elizabeth continued to squirm in his insides—though Aunt Margaret's approval would stem the worst of the tide, and Elizabeth's charm would win all but the most bitter or most censorious over to her side.

He had no need to worry about Georgiana: she was happy to be obtaining five sisters and quite content to spend two weeks at Longbourn.

What was causing his unease?

Darcy set the book down and stared off into the distance. He missed Elizabeth. It was foolish really since they had just said good night a mere three hours earlier, but he still missed her. He longed for the time when they could simply be together, discuss whatever they wished to discuss, touch freely . . . .

Georgiana cleared her throat, and Darcy started.

"I am sorry, Georgie. I did not see you there." He stood and went to her.

Georgiana giggled. "Perhaps your thoughts were otherwise occupied with a certain Bennet sister."

Magnanimously ignoring her comment, Darcy gestured to the settee. Once they were settled, he turned to his sister. "Did you need something, Georgie?"

"It is a good thing I did not need anything urgent; I was standing there for nearly five minutes before you noticed," she teased.

Darcy smiled. The changes in Georgiana had been pronounced. Spending time with the Bennet sisters had been quite beneficial for her. She had gained friendships and confidence. "Well, you have my full attention now."

She cuddled into his side. "I just wanted to see if you are well. You seemed a bit distracted at dinner."

"It is nothing that time can not cure." He rubbed a hand down her back. "I am simply ready for the waiting to be over. How about you?"

"I am—I am very glad that you are marrying Lizzy. I cannot imagine how difficult such an adjustment would be with someone like Miss Bingley."

Darcy shuddered. "Perish the thought!" He was silent for a moment, rubbing Georgiana's back and wondering what he ought to say to her tonight. It was their last night as a family of two. As had happened so many times over the past eight years, he felt inadequate to the task of raising his sister. What should he say as her guardian? What would he have said if he were merely her brother? "I am glad that it is Elizabeth, too—I am even glad to be gaining so many sisters myself."

"It will be different though, will it not?" Georgiana said, her hands twisting in her lap.

Darcy nodded. "It will be. And perhaps some parts of the change will be—challenging . We have been alone for so long that it is bound to be an adjustment. But I believe that the pleasant times will outweigh the difficult ones. Otherwise, I would not be marrying Elizabeth."

Georgiana took a deep breath. "Yes. I—I think it will be good."

"Are you worried about anything in particular, Georgie?"

"I just—what if you—what if I am not a good enough sister? I have never had a sister, and the Bennets have been sisters their whole lives. I—I am not sure how to be a good sister."

"You have been my sister your whole life, and you have been an excellent one."

"But it is not the same."

"I am not sure it is the same for anyone."

Georgiana looked up at him questioningly.

"Something Elizabeth said about how being family is different for each person because each person is unique. How she supports Miss Mary is entirely different than how she supports Miss Lydia simply because they are different people. A family's job is to love each other and to support each other, but the methods of doing so vary for each relationship. You are correct that being a sister to Elizabeth will not be the same as being a sister to me, but neither will it be the same as being a sister to Miss Kitty. You and Elizabeth will have to develop a relationship of your own, and I believe that you are in a fair way to doing so already."

Georgiana stilled. "I had not considered that."

"Elizabeth will not expect you to be like her sisters. Has she given you the impression that she does?"

Georgiana shook her head.

Darcy remained silent, trying to give her room to grasp that she did not need to worry about being Elizabeth's sister. It seemed likely, however, that she had started to say something entirely different earlier, so several minutes later, after some of the tension had leached from Georgiana's figure, he brought it up. "Is there something else you are worried about?"

"I have never had to share you, and I am not sure what that will be like," she murmured.

Darcy gave her a gentle squeeze, searching for the right words. "It will be different. However, time with just the two of us will not end tomorrow; if nothing else, Elizabeth mentioned that she requires solitude regularly, so she will not always wish to be with us. In addition, if you are feeling—" He searched for the right word. "Neglected" seemed like a suitable candidate, but he knew his sister would never categorise herself that way lest it come across as an implied criticism of him—despite how often he failed to fill the role of guardian well. "If you desire to spend time with me, you have only to ask and I can arrange something."

"You will not resent me for taking you away from Lizzy?"

Darcy looked down at his sister. "I am marrying Elizabeth, but that does not mean I am starting a new family separate from you. Georgie, you will not be less important to me. I—I am sure that I will fail at times and perhaps unintentionally hurt your feelings, but that is because I have never been a husband and a brother at the same time.

"We have spoken of my neglect this past summer and how I simply did not know that I was neglecting you. I have tried to remedy my previous behaviour over the past few months, to be more attentive—"

"And you have! You have been the best of brothers," Georgiana declared.

Darcy smiled at her. "I have done my best. But even my best will fall short if others do not point out my mistakes in areas where I am blind. I shall continue to do my best to be a good brother, and I shall do my best to be a good husband; however, I need you to tell me when I am failing—just as I shall need Elizabeth to tell me when I am failing as a husband."

"Like the tenants," Georgiana said.

Darcy blinked at her. "Pardon?"

Georgiana smiled. "Mary says that landowners are interdependent with their tenants. It is important to visit our tenants and to do our best to solve their problems because, ultimately, their problems are our problems—their problems affect the estate and can prevent it from being profitable. But if the tenants do not share their problems because they are afraid of being a bother, we cannot solve the problems until they have grown far more difficult for both us and them."

The Bennet sisters continually amazed Darcy. How they had developed into the young women they were today baffled him. "Yes. It is exactly like the tenants. You might be afraid of bothering me, but I would rather be 'bothered' when the issue occurs rather than after it has grown to epic proportions; I cannot solve what I do not know about, and what affects you, affects me as well."

Georgiana sighed, settling deeper into his embrace. "I will do my best, William."

"Good." He stared down at his sister, heart overflowing with gratitude. She was developing into a kind and wise young woman, a woman any man would be blessed to marry. "I am so proud of you, Georgie," he said, the words leaving his mouth before he could consider what he meant to say.

Georgiana glanced up, her eyes wide.

Had he never told her how incredibly proud he was of the way she had grown through everything with Wickham?

"You are—you have—" Darcy took a breath to order his thoughts. "Last summer, you made some poor decisions. However, you have not let that experience sour or break you. Instead, you fought through the pain, allowing it to temper you. Your determination to use Wickham's betrayal for good, to use it to help Miss Lydia; the way you have worked to befriend the Bennet sisters and to assist them with their accomplishments; your care for others has shone through, despite how nervous you were to meet them—I am so proud of the woman you are becoming. You have allowed adversity to shape you instead of destroy you."

Georgiana's eyes shimmered with tears, and she wiped at them. "Thank you. I do not see myself that way."

"But it is the truth. And I hope that you will continue to speak up when you see something needs to be changed—even if it is something as simple as not liking your modiste."

"I will try."

As Darcy embraced his sister, hope rose in his breast. Talking to Georgiana had helped him identify his own anxieties. Change was difficult, even when it was a much-longed-for change. He had grown so much in the past few months, and he was afraid that he might revert back to his old bad habits, that once he changed contexts—returned to London society or Pemberley—he might once more lean on pride and reserve, and that Elizabeth would reject him for it.

Just like Georgiana's, however, his changes had been hard won. He could not imagine returning to the person he had been. And even if he did fall into old ways of thinking or behaving, he was not alone anymore. Elizabeth, Georgiana, Bingley, and Fitzwilliam would be there to point out where he was going wrong and to help him back onto this new path he had chosen.

Bingley tugged at his cravat for the umpteenth time as he paced the vestibule, and Darcy resisted the urge to snap at his friend. Bingley's fidgeting and pacing had only increased his own anxiety. The moment was almost upon them, and he wished the Bennets would simply arrive and put both him and Bingley out of their misery.

"Bingley, if you do not wish to marry Miss Bennet with an untidy cravat, perhaps you should find another occupation," Darcy said, attempting to keep his tone even.

Bingley started and then turned to Darcy. "I—you are right. I am sorry, Darcy." His friend rubbed a hand across his face. "I cannot wait to marry Jane, but I have been having nightmares all week that something will go wrong. I cannot shake the feeling that my sisters may yet interfere."

"I doubt they will do so, considering how much they value your pocketbooks; in fact, they may congratulate you on obtaining a connection to me. Regardless, I do not believe they would actually intervene."

Bingley sighed. "I hope you are right." He hesitated. "Jane does not seem like the type of woman to change her mind at the last minute, does she?"

"No. I believe Miss Bennet would have spoken up some time ago if she intended to jilt you."

Bingley nodded. "Yes, yes, I agree," he said in the tone of one attempting to remind oneself of the truth.

"I must admit that I was—concerned that Elizabeth might change her mind too."

Bingley frowned. "But Miss Elizabeth is so obviously in love with you."

"As Miss Bennet is with you. I did not say it was a reasonable concern," Darcy said, his nerves soothed by the thought that Elizabeth's affection was now obvious to those around them. What a far cry from his clumsy flirtation of last year when Elizabeth had not reciprocated and the only thing obvious to the world was her dislike!

Bingley nodded again. "Yes. You are right. I just—what if I fail?" he asked hoarsely.

"What if you fail at what?"

"It took so long to earn Jane's trust back. I—I am concerned that I have not changed sufficiently so as to keep it. What if I prove myself unworthy again? Or what if Jane decides that I would not be a fit husband and that she cannot trust me and—and does not come to our wedding?"

Darcy took a deep breath. "I must admit that I have had similar fears this past week. I was such a wretch in the past. Elizabeth has forgiven me, but I have yet to forgive myself. The thought that I might lose the character growth I have fought so hard to obtain is—difficult. However, I cannot imagine becoming the person I was four months ago—he is an unlikeable stranger to me now."

Bingley nodded. "That is how I feel about my past self as well. I cannot understand how things that seem so clear today were completely cloudy to him."

"I suppose we were both doing the best we could at the time. Now that we know better, we can live differently."

"But what if I do not live differently?" Bingley burst out, his tone anguished.

"Then you have others to help you," Darcy said seriously, recalling what a balm that realisation had been to him the previous evening. "Miss Bennet will be close at hand to remind you of the character traits you have fought to develop. I too will speak up if I notice you backsliding, as I hope you would take me to task for any lapse on my part."

Bingley frowned. "I had not considered that."

Once again the odd dissonance between what had been and what was now struck Darcy and wonder filled his heart. Bingley had become more than his protege. When he had first met Bingley, he had, wrongly, believed his friend in need of a guiding hand to help ease him into society—something more in the nature of a minder. And Bingley had kindly endured Darcy's presumption. Now, however, Bingley was his equal, able and willing to stand up to him. They were technically becoming relations today, but in the past few weeks, their friendship had deepened to where he felt Bingley already stood in the place of a brother, just as Fitzwilliam did.

"Have I thanked you yet for coming to Netherfield in February?" Darcy asked. "I am so grateful that you stood up to me and came, despite my misgivings."

Bingley grinned at him. "Things would have been a bit different if I had not, eh?"

The thought of perhaps never seeing Elizabeth hit Darcy with the force of a runaway horse. What if Bingley had not returned in February? No, he would have seen her again, he reminded himself. The Letter-writer had proposed in April at Rosings. Likely Elizabeth had gone to visit Mrs. Collins, and they had encountered each other there.

Though that would likely have been even worse in some ways than never seeing her again!

Knowing such a wonderful woman existed and that he had driven her away with his pride and unkindness . . . . No, this outcome was far better than anything he could imagine and certainly better than the acrimonious exchange that had apparently occurred for the Letter-writer.

"I am glad events transpired as they did," Darcy said fervently.

"As am I."

A knock sounded on the door; the Bennets had arrived.

The moment he saw Elizabeth, time seemed to slow. He had never seen her so radiant, so beautiful. Her cheeks were a blushing pink, her lips crimson, and her eyes sparkling as they met his. How could he have won the heart of this fair maiden? He had told her multiple times how blessed he was that someone so beautiful, so intelligent, so willing to grow, so determined . . . so altogether wonderful had agreed to marry him.

Elizabeth tried to focus on Reverend Allen as he read the marriage ceremony, her eyes flickering to William every so often and her heart thudding in her chest as though trying to fling itself into the hands of the man who already held it figuratively.

This man had proven his love a thousand times over in the past few months. He had woven himself so thoroughly into her thoughts and heart and life that she could not imagine going on without him. When she had considered him returning to Derbyshire back before she had realised how serious his intentions were, it had left her cold. And now, standing before their family, they would be united. No longer would either of them walk through life alone.

She glanced back up at William, marvelling that she was giving herself to such a good man today. After all those years of her mother alternatingly declaring that she would be unable to catch a husband and harping on her duty to marry for her family's salvation, after Mr. Collins's declaration that she was unlikely to receive another offer, she was marrying the love of her life. A man who was good and kind and worked to mend his mistakes. A man who was handsome and intelligent and so intentional about his life. She could not imagine giving herself to anyone less.

Tears filled her eyes as he proclaimed to the assembled group that he would "love, comfort, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health," his gaze fixed upon hers, his eyes promising even more firmly than his steady voice that he would be hers for the rest of their lives.

Bennet clasped Fanny's hand, a part of him aching at the love on his daughters' faces and on their grooms' faces. How had this day come so soon? Jane and Lizzy were hardly more than babes. He recalled the first time he had held each of them.

He remembered thinking at various points over the years that his daughters were not growing nearly fast enough (particularly his two youngest). Today, however, he mourned that his two eldest were leaving his home. They had grown entirely too quickly. So many things left undone. So many things he ought to have said and done when they were younger, and now his chance was entirely gone.

A sob broke from Fanny, and he offered her another handkerchief. She had entered into his feelings about Lizzy moving so far away to a surprising degree. Previously, he had suspected that Mrs. Bennet would be glad to see Lizzy married and away—not because she did not love her daughter, but because she did not understand her daughter. The dissonance between them had always made Fanny worry that she would not succeed with Lizzy.

He sighed, wondering how much of that was his fault.

Lizzy had succeeded beyond Fanny's wildest hopes, though. Watching Mr. Darcy promise to cherish Lizzy in reverent tones, there was not a doubt in his mind that here was a man deeply in love—far more in love than he himself had been when he and Fanny had wed. Fanny had been appropriately serious during the actual ceremony and then had giggled afterwards about how very solemn the whole thing had been when it ought to have been a celebration.

His attention shifted to his other daughter: Mr. Bingley and Jane appeared likewise enamoured. No, not enamoured. They had been besotted last autumn, but now there was something much stronger and more tested between them. They had grown something that would last.

Bennet sighed again, wishing that he had done things differently with his daughters. He would continue his campaign to win back their trust (and to win the trust of his sons-in-law), but now it would have to be conducted at a distance.

Fanny squeezed his hand almost painfully as the ceremony ended, and he looked down at her with a measure of fondness. Before they had married, he had had little idea of what married life would entail, and the moment it had not tallied with his vague hopes, he had thrown out all expectation of true marital felicity. Today, however, he felt closer to finding real happiness with Fanny than ever.

"Oh, Thomas, I am so happy," murmured Fanny even as tears streamed down her face. "Two daughters married!"

"And to men of such excellent character," Bennet replied. A part of him had long expected sons-in-law who would provide merely entertainment value and the hope that his daughters would be financially taken care of.

Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, however, were men of substance—men who had made it clear they would not tolerate any poor behaviour on his part. With grim humour, he recalled the conversations he had had with them last night. He had spoken to both gentlemen privately, attempting to impress upon them one last time the necessity of treating his daughters well—even after their wedding. Instead, both gentlemen had reflected the admonition back on him. Bennet had resented their protectiveness towards his daughters, but reminded himself that, sadly, it was warranted. He would simply have to continue proving himself.

Of course he could not see Mr. Bingley nor Mr. Darcy flat out preventing him from speaking to Elizabeth or Jane, but they would do their best to protect his daughters, even from him. He had a sinking feeling that their protection extended to his other three daughters as well and that if he did not wish his daughters to spend all their time with the Bingleys and the Darcys, he would have to redouble his efforts.

At least he had the next two weeks to continue his campaign and to gain Miss Darcy's trust, and after that they would all be at Pemberley for a few weeks.

Fanny nodded. "Wealthy men, too. I am so glad that even if the improvements at Longbourn fail, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy will be able to ensure the other girls are well cared for."

"And you as well, my dear," Bennet added, patting his wife's hand and realising that for the first time, he was truly worried about what would happen to Fanny after his death. He suppressed a shudder as a cold breath settled in his bones. He could not help but imagine what would have happened to his family had his daughters not married so well—farmed out to their relatives, his daughters likely pressed into service somewhere or living on a pittance in squalor and privation.

Fanny pulled him forward, and he hugged his daughters and shook their husbands' hands. The moment congratulations had been made, Fanny began pushing for them all to leave. His wife was anxious to show off her married daughters to the Philipses and the few neighbours gathered outside and then to return to Longbourn and ensure the wedding breakfast went off without a hitch.

"I am certain you did an excellent job, my dear," Bennet told his wife as she began to list off the details of the breakfast.

Fanny looked up at him, her mouth open as though to begin one of her anxious tirades about how awful everything was likely to go. Then she closed her mouth and took a deep breath, her eyes sliding closed as her lips formed the numbers one through ten. Bennet smiled. Mrs. Annesley had given Fanny the advice to take a deep breath and count to ten any time she felt anxiety about to overwhelm her. Surprisingly, his wife had followed her friend's advice, and it had made for much pleasanter interactions with her. He squeezed her hand once she was done.

Fanny smiled up at him, a tad shakily. "I hope so. I have tried to ensure everything is properly prepared."

"I know you have. We went over your list together yesterday, remember? You have prepared a wedding breakfast that everyone in Hertfordshire will remember."

Fanny giggled. "I did not plan for everyone in Hertfordshire to attend; you have not invited them all, I hope."

"Given the amount of food you have prepared, I probably could have, but no, I did not invite anyone."

"Oh, Thomas, how melancholy it will be when all our daughters are living far away. I am so glad that Jane is remaining nearby, but I wish that Lizzy could also stay in Hertfordshire."

Bennet nodded. "It will be an adjustment. I am not ready to lose our daughters either—though I am glad they are marrying so well," he hurried to add when Fanny looked ready to object. "But we will not be without daughters yet."

"True. I am glad I am not losing my Lydia yet."

Bennet hesitated. "Indeed. I am glad that we will still have Lydia and Kitty and Mary."

"Yes. And I suppose I shall be so busy with the tenants that I will not lack occupation." She sighed mournfully. "Still, it is a melancholy business."

"I will still be with you, Fanny."

She smiled up at him. "I am glad of that."

Breakfast went off without any hindrances, as Bennet had expected. His wife was nothing if not a consummate hostess. The group was a merry one as the Bennets' closest friends and relations congratulated the two couples, and Mary, Kitty, and Lydia were often found laughing together with Miss Darcy.

His heart ached as his daughters prepared to say their goodbyes. Jane and Mr. Bingley were returning to Netherfield (and had requested no visits for the first week), but Lizzy and Mr. Darcy were off to London for a fortnight. He would not be able to pretend that his daughters were merely visiting relatives as he had during their past two absences. They were really married and really leaving. Bennet glanced over at his other daughters—though they did not yet have suitors, his time with them would pass by before he knew it. He resolved then and there to make the most of every moment he had left with his remaining daughters.

Bennet hugged Jane and told her how proud he was of her and how much he loved her.

When it came time to say goodbye to Lizzy, however, his throat clogged up and he could not keep a few tears from escaping. He hugged her fiercely. "Goodbye, my Lizzy. I am so proud of the woman you have become," he said hoarsely. "I love you."

"I love you too, Papa," Lizzy said in choked accents. "I am proud of the work you are doing as well."

Bennet merely nodded, unable to speak, and then his daughters and their husbands were off, starting their new lives together.

As he stood outside, watching their carriages leave, certain that both his daughters would succeed due to the love and determination both couples possessed, Fanny walked over to him. She alternately waved a handkerchief and wiped the tears from her face.

Glancing up at him, she must have seen some of his distress, because she took his hand, holding it tightly. "I am still here, Thomas," she reminded him.

Bennet gave her a watery smile. "I am glad of that, Fanny."

A/N: Just the epilogues left. I hope you guys enjoyed this last scene with Mr. & Mrs. Bennet! It made me cry seeing them come back together in the end. The first epilogue has plenty of E&D fluff in it, so fear not, I will not leave you without your quota of Mr. & Mrs. Darcy ;) I'll post the epilogues before Friday-although I can't tell you precisely when since I'm a bit busy this week.

Thank you so much for all the encouragement and comments! I love seeing this story through your perspective!

Thanks to my betas, Arendelle, Dawn, and Roberta, who did a great job with this chapter!

As usual, do let me know if you notice something amiss, please. I so appreciate the feedback!