A/N: And finally, we're here. I have to admit to feeling overwhelming relief at posting this final chapter-I was unprepared for how much this story and the response to it would take out of me. Of course I'm a little sad, just like always when I finish a story, but I'm really ready to cut the apron strings here and let this one venture into the world on its own. Thank you to everyone who followed/favorited/reviewed, and even to those who didn't-I'm guiltier than most of reading without leaving a response. To those who loved every word, I offer profound thanks for keeping me going even when I got discouraged. For those who had fun but also made me rethink portions and address mistakes, I offer chagrinned but sincere gratitude. Accepting criticism is hard for me, but it makes me a healthier person and, hopefully someday, a better writer. And to those who stuck all the way through this but didn't love it, I offer a sheepish smile and a shrug. If nothing else, at least you have to admit that I made regular updates and changed my status to "complete."
In terms of the future, I will admit that I've had a new idea in the last week or so, one I think could be really fun, but it'll probably be several months before I'd be willing to post it. If you're interested, Author Alert me, or just keep your eyes open... in a year or so.
This is Babsy, signing off.
Disclaimer: I am not Jane Austen, and good gravy, aren't we all grateful for that? That would make me extremely old and decrepit. And I would have to spend my life answering press questions about how I feel about Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and trying to keep my answers polite.
Epilogue
Even as Lizzy awakened, jarred loose from her dreaming by a particularly rough section of road, she was already chagrinned. She straightened, reaching up to right her hair and grimacing at the loose pins she discovered. "Oh, Charlotte, I am sorry. You know what I am like in carriages."
Charlotte, lounging against the back of the opposite seat, looked up from her book and smiled. "I expected nothing else. Placing you inside a carriage is like dosing you with a sleeping draught. Ms. Radcliffe and I have been quite content."
Charlotte returned to her book as Lizzy attempted to awaken her limbs without jostling her daughter's head, which was cradled in her lap. Lizzy bent forward slightly to relax a twinge in her back, and the pendant she wore on a long chain around her neck swung forward and tapped the little girl on the cheek. Lizzy yanked it away then sat back, chuckling fondly to herself. Poor Cynthia had been run nearly ragged by her older cousins during their unexpectedly long visit to Jane's family. Combine that with her rightly-inherited somnolence in carriages, and she had been profoundly asleep for most of their four-hour journey.
Lizzy gazed down at her daughter, identifying once again the features the two of them shared: the wide eyes and long lashes, the rounded cheeks, and the ears that pressed back nearly against her head. It was, however, the traits inherited from her father that Lizzy found the most endearing: the dark, loose curls, the slow, bright smile, and the tendency toward solemnity. Everything in life was serious to Cynthia, but when one could inspire her laughter, it felt as if one had just been showered in gold.
"You are frowning again, Lizzy," Charlotte said without raising her eyes from her book. "'Tis not an expression that comes naturally to you."
Lizzy huffed a short laugh. "Forgive me, then, for disturbing your sense of equanimity."
Charlotte straightened as she closed her book decisively and gazed across the carriage at her friend. "I am, in my way, expressing my concern for you, and you well know it. Now are you going to tell me what is bothering you, or am I going to have to bribe Brandow to get us lost until you submit?"
Lizzy looked up at her friend, who was watching her with a single raised eyebrow. The lavender of Charlotte's half-mourning gown was surprisingly complimentary to her coloring, and Jane's maid had done her hair very fashionably that morning, much more so than Charlotte would normally have allowed. She was quite lovely, really, this friend who had always called herself plain.
Lizzy shook her head, smiling in spite of herself. "Brandow would never do it. He is very loyal to me, you know."
"Yes, yes, your coachman adores you, just like every other one of the Pemberley staff. You will not distract me. Whatever is the matter these past few days?"
"You will not like the answer." At Charlotte's unimpressed glare, Lizzy continued reluctantly, "I am worried about you, Charlotte."
Charlotte's face went slack with surprise. "Why on earth are you worried about me?"
Lizzy shifted uncomfortably, and not just with the lingering stiffness of sleeping in a rumbling carriage. "'Tis only that… oh, dear, it is really none of my business, and yet…"
"Please just say it. You know how I grow impatient with dissembling."
"Very well. Mr. Collins died one year ago—one year and two days ago, to be exact—and all week I have been worrying, realizing what a terrible friend I have been to you these past weeks since you came to stay with us. I have blithely accepted your equanimity. You do not seem sad or concerned about the future, and so I have assumed all is well within you. Yet it has occurred to me these past three or four days that you may be feeling greater sorrow or uncertainty than you demonstrate, and I have been a terrible friend not to have asked."
Charlotte sighed, her expression relieved. "You can be very silly sometimes, Lizzy."
"And you can be so very impassive!" Lizzy retorted. "I simply wish to know that all is truly well within you. Is that so wrong?"
"You are not silly for worrying. You are silly for not just asking me this week."
"Well, I am asking you now. Are you well, Charlotte? Are you ready for your mourning to be over?"
Charlotte looked thoughtfully at the book in her hand. "Mr. Collins died a year and two days ago. At the time, I could not imagine what might occur next in my life. I could only plan one day in advance. I would never have guessed then how different my life would be now. Yes, I am ready to move out of mourning. I have arrived at that transition when everyone expects the widow to have fully recovered yet they are still too cautious to speak much of the former spouse. It will be easier, I hope, when no one fears I am still suffering."
"You are not suffering, though, are you?"
Charlotte sighed. "Should I be? Mr. Collins and I were married for above seven years. I watched over him, cared for him, obeyed him to the best of my ability, and found contentment, but I never claimed to love him. I miss him sometimes, but only when I see how much Freddy misses him. He was a very mediocre husband, Lizzy, but he was an excellent father to a small child. He played with Freddy and allowed him to accompany him on all sorts of errands, even when he was very small. To be sure, he was still quite young when Mr. Collins became ill, but Freddy still has such fond memories of his father reading to him, even from his sickbed.
"I miss him for Freddy's sake, but for myself…" She tapped her fingers on the book cover absently. "I am simply relieved."
"He was ill for a long time," Lizzy offered. "It would be natural to experience some relief at his passing."
"You think better of me than I deserve. I am pleased not to be caring for a sick man anymore, but I am even more pleased to be free. I live in my father's house again, where no one attempts to rule me or cajole me or insist upon anything. I am free to visit my dear friend for months at a time if I so choose. The pension provided by the church is enough for Freddy and I, especially since we need not pay for a home. Papa and your father have between them compromised regarding who shall pay for Freddy's education. In short, I have been richly blessed, and I feel every ounce of that blessing, I assure you. I would never have wished Mr. Collins dead, but I cannot be sorry for it, either."
Lizzy was struck by Charlotte's truth. "But are you not lonely sometimes? Mr. Collins was at least someone with whom you could sit and talk in the evening."
"We did talk sometimes," Charlotte acknowledged, "but the conversations were rarely meaningful, which cannot surprise you. Lizzy, loneliness has been my constant companion for many years—my marriage did not change that. Only Freddy ever did, and him I have still."
"Do you regret marrying Mr. Collins then?"
"How could I? For if I had not, I would not have Freddy."
Lizzy nodded, troubled by Charlotte's admissions. She had always seemed so content, just as she had promised she would be before her marriage ever began, but Lizzy would give almost anything to see her friend truly, blissfully happy.
"I suppose," Charlotte said quietly as the carriage wheels splashed through the high-running creek that Lizzy recognized as a sign that they were nearing Pemberley, "that the answer to your question is yes, I am well. I only wish I knew whether it was wrong for me to feel so."
They were quiet for the last few minutes of the drive. As the carriage rumbled to a stop near the back door of the house, the one leading in from the courtyard, Lizzy smiled at the sight of Matthew, Pemberley's head footman, dashing through the door.
"Welcome home, Mrs. Darcy, Mrs. Collins," he smiled, opening the carriage door. "I'll alert the household at once to your arrival."
"There is no need, Matthew. I should like to surprise my family, I think. But I would appreciate your carrying this dear little burden up to the nursery."
She handed Cynthia's still form into his arms, marveling that at age four she could still sleep so deeply.
"Would you let Hannah and Marjorie know that we have arrived but that we will greet the children before retiring to refresh ourselves?"
"Very good, madam."
"Have you seen the boys recently?" Charlotte asked as he handed her out after Lizzy.
"I believe all the gentlemen of the house are on the east lawn, madam, playing at war."
Charlotte and Lizzy exchanged a long-suffering look then linked arms as they moved up the path that would take them around to the far side of the house. They were in the midst of a cheerful discussion of the Bingleys' eldest and most precocious daughter as they rounded the final curve in the path, but they both paused when they realized there were no bodies in sight.
"Perhaps they have moved indoors," Charlotte said.
"That would surprise me on such a fine day, especially after all the rain… Oh my!"
Lizzy had been startled by a shout from the bush only a few steps behind her. "Scouts have been spotted, sir! They are not wearing colors—they may be enemies!"
Two heads raised behind a hedge on the far end of the lawn, and a masculine voice called back, "I suspect they are our spies returning! Escort them back to the barracks, Corporal, but keep them under guard until I can see to them personally!"
A small body darted out from the near bush and wrapped itself around Lizzy's legs. "Hello, Mother!"
Lizzy laughed, bending over to kiss her son's cheek. He, too, had inherited his father's dark curls, but his eyes were his grandmother Anne's startling green, a coloring his Aunt Georgiana shared. "Hello, Bennet, darling. I am very glad to see you!"
"And I you. You were away ever so much longer than one night! Papa said that there was a moat all around Emmerton, just like a real castle, because of all the rains."
"Your cousins would tell you that it was not nearly so romantic as it sounds," Lizzy answered wryly. "I hope you enjoyed yourself while I was gone."
Bennet frowned. "Papa dislikes those German fairy tales we've been reading together, so he uses silly voices when he reads them."
"How wretched," Lizzy laughed, hugging the small boy against her legs. "Well, I shall read to you tonight, I promise."
"That's all right—last night, the general read us an account of a Roman battle from years and years ago! It was very exciting!"
"The general is here?" Lizzy asked with surprise. "No wonder you have not missed me much."
"A cousin, even one who wears a uniform and travels the world fighting villains and winning glory can still never hold a candle to a mother," said the same masculine voice from earlier. Lizzy turned to see Richard Fitzwilliam striding down the path, brushing boxwood leaves from his hat and coat. "Do not let the young rascal convince you otherwise."
"Richard! I did not know you were even in England! What a delightful surprise!" Lizzy hugged him hard, laughing as he picked her up and spun her once. He was a man of maturity now with darkly tanned skin and a few lines on his face, yet Lizzy was as pleased as ever that his latest assignments had not diminished his youthful vigor or the spark of good-humor in his eyes.
"I only arrived in town a week ago," he answered, setting her down, "so I settled my business as quickly as I could, stayed for a few days with my own mother, then raced to Pemberley for some hard-earned rest and relaxation. I hope I am not an unwelcome guest."
"Never," Lizzy assured him. "Why you insist on calling yourself a guest at all I cannot imagine—you are family. And with Georgiana and Mr. Layton settled so far south, and my own sisters just as spread out, we need all the family we can get."
Richard smiled then turned slowly and bowed quite formally to Charlotte. "Mrs. Collins. It is an unspeakable pleasure to see you again."
"Colonel… no, Major General Fitzwilliam. I am… pleased to see you as well."
Lizzy was quite surprised to notice pink on Charlotte's cheeks and some difficulty in meeting Richard's frank gaze.
"General! General!" another young voice called from somewhere off to the left, obviously approaching by some invisible means. "The enemy has been sighted, sir! An entire battalion is marching up the peninsula!"
A small, fair-haired boy tumbled out of the entrance to the Rose Walk, his eyes eager and bright and his face deadly serious. Upon sighting Charlotte, he released a delighted cry and ran into her arms, easily transitioning from urgent soldier to happy child. "Mama!"
"Making war again, are we, Freddy?" Charlotte asked fondly, ruffling his hair and looking him over with evident maternal pride. She tugged a small twig from beneath his narrow collar.
"Yes, Mama. The general has put us through training the past few days, but the enemy is attacking earlier than expected, and we must face them today!"
"What sort of training?" Charlotte asked seriously, crouching beside her son.
"We practiced moving stealthily through the forest, belly-crawling under the hedges, foraging for survival if we are cut off from our unit… uh… tidying our cots in case the camp must be taken down hurriedly…"
"My, my," Charlotte said. "You have been busy. I hope the general has not neglected to teach you the importance of obeying one's superiors."
"Indeed not!" Freddy answered, appearing shocked that she would even make such a suggestion. "He said that a soldier must obey his commanding officer instantly, that lives might hang in the balance of any order. And he said that the only person whose command might override that of one's general is royalty." He gestured toward his mother and Lizzy. "He says the Kingdom of Pemberley has two queens and two generals."
"As long as we know where the generals fit in the chain of command," Charlotte replied, nodding earnestly. "I am pleased that you have been so well prepared in my absence."
"Corporal Darcy! Captain Collins! The enemy is nearly upon us!" William's voice called from the bottom of the low hill at the base of the lawn. "Perform one last inspection of the troops and send word to the artillerymen to load and await General Fitzwilliam's command!" William appeared slowly climbing the hill.
"Yes, sir!" both boys cried, saluting smartly before running off, grabbing the wooden rifles they had both abandoned in their distraction.
"Are they not required to bow before leaving the presence of royalty?" Charlotte asked, raising twinkling eyes to Richard, who had already been watching her for most of her conversation with Freddy.
"That is tomorrow's lesson," Richard assured her with a wink. "Soldiers can only absorb a certain number of habits in a single day."
"Of course."
Lizzy's gaze returned to her husband, who was finally cresting the hill. He was wearing a brown coat she particularly liked, and his hair was tousled from the slight breeze. At the realization that he was panting slightly from the exertion, that his weight was leaned heavily on his walking stick, Lizzy pursed her lips, but she let herself focus on the handsomeness of his countenance rather than the reminder of his continuing convalescence.
He had clearly caught sight of her, and something about the intensity of his expression made her middle flutter in a way only he had ever managed to cause. He paused, however, at the edge of the stone path.
"Hello, Elizabeth." He looked both sheepish and warily pleased to see her.
"Good afternoon, William."
He frowned. "Are you going to scold me for over-exerting myself during your absence?"
She crossed the path to him and stopped only inches away, tugging on his lapels until he had lowered his head enough for her to kiss his cheek. "No," she replied quietly. "I am going to tell you how dearly I missed you."
"I dislike it when you leave," he said into her ear, still bent towards her. "I can never settle when you are gone."
"I am very glad to hear it."
He smiled, but he could not hide the lines that always formed around his eyes when he was in pain.
She opened her mouth to remind him that the doctor had ordered him to remain cautious and not tire himself, but she bit her tongue instead. It was difficult for her not to scold, not to cluck and fuss, but the only effect those behaviors ever had was to make him more stubbornly insistent that all was well.
Instead she offered him a coy smile, meeting his eyes significantly, before arranging her face into a more appropriate expression and turning back to Charlotte and Richard, who were conversing together quietly. "I am sorry we are to be poor hosts, but I find I am more tired from my journey than I expected, and William's leg has, after a morning spent in battle, earned a rest as well. We are going to retire for a few hours."
Lizzy waited for an argument from her husband, but he offered none. Charlotte nodded graciously, although Lizzy could detect the smirk under her acceptance—Lizzy had slept enough in the carriage to make another nap entirely impossible.
"Of course, Elizabeth," Richard said. "I will keep the boys entertained for the afternoon, since I am certain Mrs. Collins would like an opportunity to rest as well." With a compassionate expression slightly too earnest to be entirely sincere, he added, "After all, old men need their repose."
"I am sorry," William retorted. "Which of us here has more silver in his hair than color?"
"It simply makes me more distinguished," Richard replied, preening like a London dandy. "Which of us has begun squinting in order to read his pocket watch?"
"You. At least until you put on those spectacles you attempt to keep hidden in your pocket."
"Oh, yes? Well, which of us…"
"Stop it, both of you!" Lizzy laughed. "Otherwise supper will be served before we even reach the house."
The four made their farewells, leaving Richard on the lawn, and Charlotte parted from the Darcy's at the head of the stairs, moving toward the guest wing where she had insisted on being housed despite them both considering her as family. William had been quiet on the trip, his progress up the stairs halting, and his breath was coming hard by the time they reached the top, but Lizzy kept her peace. As soon as the door to their chambers was closed, he sagged against it.
"Oh, Elizabeth," he sighed, his gaze full of emotions as she returned to him and silently offered her arm. He leaned on her heavily as they crossed the sitting room into his chamber. "I am undone by a low hill or two and a single set of stairs!"
"You are far from undone, William," she replied. "Three months ago, Matthew still had to carry you up and down the stairs. You improve every day."
"I know," he conceded. "I still hate my weakness, even as it decreases."
"You are not weak," Lizzy insisted. "You are the strongest man I know."
He raised one eyebrow at her eloquently as she lowered him to the cushioned bench at the end of his bed.
"Well, you are," she argued, her hands on her hips. "Six months ago, you were nearly killed by a runaway carriage, yet you improve every day, regaining your health and vitality with incredible speed and determination. And besides, some portion of your physical strength may have left you for a time, but that has no effect on your character, which is infinitely more attractive to me than your outer aspect or abilities."
He remained unconvinced.
She huffed and moved to lock both doors into William's chamber. She returned and stood over him, pressing against his chest with her fingertips. "Strength of character is far more desirable than physical strength. Say it with me."
William chuckled, allowing her pressure to lean him back onto the bed. "I understand the theory of what you say, my love, but no matter how I try to reconcile the idea, I cannot enjoy my inabilities."
She helped him remove the short boots he had worn since his accident, eliciting a sigh of relief, then crawled over the bench onto the bed, kneeling beside him. "In what important area do you lack? Are you able to oversee your estate effectively?"
"I suppose so."
"Are you able to conduct your business in London and travel when necessary?"
"Yes."
"Can you enjoy your children and set a good example for them?"
"I do my best."
By now she was hovering over him, her forearms supporting her on either side of his head. His hands came up to her hips. "And are you capable of loving your wife with tender, passionate devotion?"
His answer was a heated kiss.
When she pulled back, it was just far enough to look into his eyes. "Then obviously, sir, you are strong enough in all the ways that matter. Whatever else you achieve in terms of recovery will be merely a pleasant addition. You have spent the entirety of our lives together proving to me the truth of what you claimed that first, memorable morning after our abduction."
"And what was that?"
"That you have both the strength and the will to always watch over me, to be enough for our family and all those who depend upon you."
His eyes burned, and he kissed her again. "I love you, Elizabeth Bennet Darcy."
She would have offered a similar reply, but he allowed her no opportunity for more words for quite some time.
General Richard Fitzwilliam stood rigidly, staring out the window at the new-green of springtime spreading over Darcy's estate. He tried to appreciate the beauty, to find the peace he had always known here, but he found he was as anxious as a new sergeant given his first command. He had too much restless energy to sit, and if he did not grip his hands together tightly behind his back, he would worry his ridiculous cravat to ruins. How he wished he had worn his uniform—it had a plethora of medals and insignia with which to fidget—but it was back in London.
The parlor door opened and Mrs. Collins entered, spiking his agitation. "General!" She appeared surprised to see him, but he hoped the blush on her cheeks was a good sign rather than a bad one. She drew in a calming breath, not realizing that she had automatically tugged the parlor door closed behind her. "It appears we are both ready for dinner too early."
She was wearing an evening gown of dark blue silk, and her hair was pinned up in that same lovely style she had worn earlier. His eyes lingered on her figure for a moment, noting the pleasant softness the years had brought to her previously spare frame. He realized again, as he had that afternoon, how very well her age suited her.
"Indeed. With Darcy and Elizabeth resting, it could be some time still before they appear."
Mrs. Collins laughed lightly, not offended by his candor. "Their marriage is a passionate one, I think, no matter how hard they try to hide it. They are both very lucky."
"Allow me to offer my condolences on your own husband's passing," Fitzwilliam said quietly.
She moved deeper into the room, coming to stand beside him at the window and look out over the darkening landscape. "Thank you."
"Elizabeth tells me you are residing primarily with your family in Hertfordshire."
"Yes, although given the amount of time Freddy spends with Mr. Bennet, Longbourn has come to feel much like a home as well."
"Freddy will inherit Longbourn, will he not?"
Charlotte nodded. "Mr. Bennet has taken quite an interest, teaching him all about the estate and the responsibilities of a landowner. I believe he truly enjoys the idea of training his successor, the son he never had. And Mr. Darcy takes Freddy and Bennet with him sometimes when he goes to resolve tenant disputes or look over a repair. Between him and Mr. Bennet, Freddy will be much better prepared for his inheritance than many young men could boast."
"He is a lucky young man."
"Indeed."
"He is also a remarkably intelligent one. It has been a distinct pleasure getting to know him over these past three days. He has Mr. Collins' coloring, but he has his mother's sense and awareness."
"Freddy told me before he went to bed of all your adventures. One would think he had known you his entire life for the amount of time it seems you have spent with him. I hope he has not been a burden."
"I have enjoyed every moment, I assure you."
"'The General' was the only topic he wished to discuss at all this evening," she smiled. "Each time he called you that, I found it jarring. It is difficult to reconcile the gentleman I remember from Kent with the well-known general about whom we have read in The Times. You are growing quite infamous, sir, but seeing you before me now only slightly changed, I find myself wondering whether even half of the stories are true."
"Most of what you have read regarding our campaigns is probably accurate. I tend to be rather… unorthodox in my methods. But if you are referring to the society pages, then I can assure you that everything they report is an outrageous lie."
"You are certainly a figure of much speculation," Mrs. Collins chuckled. "It should not be surprising—you are well-known, influential, quite flush, reportedly thanks to investment and promotion, and a bachelor. They even call you 'debonair.'"
"A vicious falsehood if ever I have heard one!" Fitzwilliam laughed.
"If I remember right," Mrs. Collins said, her tone still light but her manner stiff, "your last foray into London society included whispers of an imminent engagement to a Miss Worthington, a young heiress worth over twenty-thousand pounds."
"I escorted Miss Worthington and her family to the opera once. I was bullied into it by a well-meaning friend, and I regretted it immediately upon arrival. She giggled through the entire performance of Don Giovanni. Needless to say, we only met socially afterward. I would not exactly call that a near-engagement."
Mrs. Collins smiled, appearing comfortable again. "You are a determined bachelor then, sir?"
"Not at all, I assure you. Marriage is my goal, but as I am only interested in a happy one, my requirements for entering into the state are quite stringent."
"And what are these impossible standards that have kept you single all these years, sir?"
"'Tis quite simple, really," Fitzwilliam said, swallowing down the nerves threatening to choke him. "The woman I marry must either be you or be incredible enough for me to forget you."
Mrs. Collins did not move. Her eyes stayed on the tree line at the far side of Pemberley's lawn, and her arms hung calmly at her sides. He wished he could see her face, but he had not the courage to reach out to her.
"I am a military man, Mrs. Collins, even more so now than when we knew one another before. Ever since I learned that you were widowed and staying at Pemberley, I have been strategizing, attempting to devise an appropriate means of marching here and achieving your surrender."
"Are we at war, sir?"
"Courting is a sort of ongoing war," he acknowledged, pleased she was still addressing him at all. "One kingdom or principality desires to expand, to become more than it already is, and its best means of doing so is making a bid for control of a nearby country or dominion, preferably an attractive one with ample resources and a good leadership base. Does that not remind you of a night at a public ball?"
A reluctant laugh burbled up from inside her. "That is horrifyingly apt."
"Just so. Therefore, in my campaign to win your heart, I have considered many strategies. I could lay siege to your borders, surrounding you and overwhelming you until you are forced to bow to my will."
"Play the world's most romantic, present, and persistent suitor, you mean?"
"Exactly. I could be more devious, unearthing secret paths underneath your defenses, ending any resistance before it had begun."
"You would… attempt to win my favor by attaching my son to you, for example?"
"You are a most clever woman, Mrs. Collins. I could also attempt to bribe my way inside, bringing gifts and promises of 'beneficial alliance.'"
"Parading your newfound wealth before me, I suppose? Or behaving as if you only wish to be my friend?"
"I could also send in negotiators to talk you into lowering your defenses, convincing you to open your gates with fair promises."
"A carefully planned seduction." Her profile revealed nothing, but her ears turned pink.
"But of all the strategies I contrived, I found myself falling back on the most honorable method of making war—the direct frontal assault, preceded by an embassage declaring my intentions in order to give you time to prepare your defense."
"This conversation, I would assume, is my fair warning."
"It seems sporting to warn you of my objective."
"And why, sir, of all the more attractive options available around you, are you focusing such a monumental effort on my small kingdom?"
"Because even after nearly fifteen years of actively investigating the territories and provinces within my reach, your kingdom is still the only one I want. It is the only one with the unique series of resources my kingdom needs in order to be satisfied. Your previous alliance was a disaster for my kingdom, and so I sought far and wide for one somewhat like yours, but I have never been even mildly tempted.
"And then, six months ago, I received word that your alliance had ended, so I began putting my plans in place, preparing my officers and mobilizing my troops, stockpiling ammunition…"
Mrs. Collins glanced quickly toward him with a raised brow before turning back to the window.
"I sent a message to London declaring my intent to retire," he clarified. "I knew it would take time—London was excessively unhappy, but they had no grounds to refuse me. Still, I only arrived just in time."
"What was your hurry, sir?"
"I intended to be here the day you came out of mourning," he admitted. "And I was. It was you who was not here."
"I hate to think you rushed," she smirked. "I have no bevy of admirers—I mean, other invading armies—to challenge you."
"I was not worried about that. The world is full of fools who would never be able to see you for all that you are worth. I was simply impatient. For seven-and-one-half years I believed any connection between us to be impossible, and I remained away for both our sakes, but I never forgot you. 'Twas your face of which I dreamed during those long dreary campaigns. 'Twas your laughter that warmed me on my loneliest, most solitary nights.
"And then, six months ago, I received a letter from Elizabeth that mentioned your situation, and hope dawned again. My every effort since then has been to bring me before you."
"To enact my surrender?"
"Exactly."
She was thoroughly still and silent for a long time, too long for Fitzwilliam's patience. "Is my cause already lost, Mrs. Collins? If so, please tell me so at once."
"You would cancel your campaign so easily?"
"Of course not. But I would require time to plan a new attack."
"I am struggling with your metaphor."
He paused, bemused. "My… metaphor?"
"I have little interest in surrender, sir, or annexation."
"Ah." She had no wish to marry again. Could he blame her for that, given her previous experience? "I suppose that would make my assault most ill-conceived."
"Yes."
Fitzwilliam spun and moved away, too full of conflicting emotions to remain still any longer. He envied her unruffled manner, simultaneously hating it and admiring it as much as he had all those years before.
"But," she said quietly, "I might be willing to consider… a diplomatic negotiation."
Fitzwilliam turned. "What sort of negotiation?"
"You wish to acquire my kingdom and resources. I find that, although the people of my kingdom are entirely self-sufficient, there are certain commodities that might make them … more comfortable. Happier. If we were to discover, through some period of negotiation, that we were well-suited to meet one another's needs, I would be willing to consider a partnership."
"You would allow me to court you?"
She appeared surprised by the word, but she nodded. "I suppose I would. I am not averse to forming a new alliance eventually, sir. But this time, I intend to be most cautious in the selection of my ally."
"And what are your requirements, madam? What commodities interest you?"
She drew in a deep breath and finally, finally, turned to face him. Her expression was still calm, but as she raised her eyes to meet his, he felt almost winded by the emotion in them. "I seek to build ties with a land of…" She blushed slightly and shook her head. "Again, the metaphor has failed me. If I marry again, I am determined that this time, nothing but the most passionate admiration and affection will suffice, both in my feelings and those of my chosen partner. I married once for security, for respectability. I have achieved both. What that alliance lacked, however, was the affection, esteem, and desire that can make marriage truly joyful. I will settle for nothing less."
Fitzwilliam stepped in front of her, his heart hammering as he reached out slowly, making certain he had her permission to take her hand. "Nor shall I. Having waited this long, having learned to survive loneliness, only the truest belief of my impending happiness would induce me into matrimony."
"And you believe such enduring joy could be achieved with me?" she asked, her eyes dropping shyly.
"My dear Mrs. Collins," he answered, pressing her hand to his chest, "I knew you for only month over eight years ago, and yet you stole my heart with almost no effort. I intended to wait a few weeks to make my intentions known to you here at Pemberley, to give us both time to come to know one another again, but in the five minutes we conversed together earlier, I decided I had no wish to wait. I would like to court you, to know you better and have you know me, but I want my intentions toward you quite clear."
Mrs. Collins smiled up at him, still slightly bashful. "Then I believe you have achieved all of your goals for this evening, sir."
He grinned back, but he grew serious again quickly, stepping forward to cut the distance between them. "Not all of them."
Mrs. Collins's smile vanished as she tipped her head to hold his gaze. She swallowed hard. "What other objective have you neglected?"
She did not pull back from him as he raised a hand to brush the backs of his fingers against her cheek. She released a quiet gasp at the touch. "I want to kiss you."
"That would be quite inappropriate, sir, given than we have only been courting for five or six minutes now." Her tone was reproachful, but she closed her eyes and sighed as he ran a finger over her cheekbone.
"Why? You know my intentions are honorable. You are a widow, so your reputation is perfectly safe."
"But my equanimity is not."
"You believe my kiss will unsettle you?"
"It did eight years ago. I cannot imagine much has changed."
"I hope not," he agreed, rubbing his thumb lightly over her lips. "A truly excellent kiss ought to be excessively unsettling. Eight years later, and I am still affected by the memory."
"As am I," she whispered.
"Tell me that you thought of me sometimes these past years. Tell me that you remembered me."
"Almost never. I trained myself to avoid thoughts of you at all costs, for the sake of my vows to my husband and my own sanity. I never asked for tidings of you or continued conversations where you were discussed. Such thoughts only brought me dissatisfaction."
Fitzwilliam leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers.
"Yet somehow," she continued, "my thoughts have lingered upon you more often than I would care to admit these past months. My memories of those few weeks are far clearer than they should be, given how profoundly I thought I had ignored them, and I seem to have voraciously read any tidings I received of you all this time. I have found myself hoping I would meet you again, wondering whether there might be something between us still."
"And what is your conclusion?"
He felt her fingers lightly come to clasp the front edges of his waistcoat. "I have already agreed to this courtship, sir, after less than an hour in your company. I do not believe you need any further elucidation."
"Endless discussion of the same topic is an essential part of any negotiation, peaceful or otherwise."
She laughed quietly, her eyes bright. "If you are going to kiss me, General, it had best be soon, else we shall be interrupted."
Fitzwilliam settled both arms around her, resting on her back. "To you, I would prefer to be simply Richard."
"Richard," she breathed, her eyes on his mouth.
He closed the gap between them and brushed his lips over hers tenderly. That was all he had intended, but before he could move back, her arms slid around his waist, and the simple movement undid all his resolve. He pressed her against him and took possession of her mouth with all the triumphant thrill of victory after a long-fought battle.
He had kissed his share of women in his younger years, and he had come to believe at the time that one kiss was very much like another, but the recollection of the night he had kissed this particular woman outside of Coxton had tortured him. It had been too short, he knew, to have contained all the emotions his memories had assigned it, and as years had passed, he had come to believe he had glorified it far beyond reality.
But to passionately kiss this woman, the woman of whom he had dreamt for so long, while she willingly and guiltlessly surrendered to him, was enough to throw all his assumptions on their heads. This kiss was far better than any of his memories. The mixture of desire and affection and hope unraveled him, rubbing out the rest of the world until the only reality left in the universe was his lips upon hers, his hands traveling helplessly between her face and her shoulders and the small of her back.
He was more surprised than he would ever admit when, upon being returned harshly to the present by the clearing of a throat, he discovered that they had migrated to the nearest settee, Mrs. Collins perched on his lap. She jumped to her feet, straightening her gown with significant mortification, and Fitzwilliam rose beside her, as embarrassed to be blushing as he was to have been caught in such a compromising position. "Good evening, cousins."
Darcy and Elizabeth were standing in the doorway. "What is the meaning of this, Fitzwilliam?" Darcy asked, glowering dangerously.
Fitzwilliam took courage, however, from Elizabeth's twinkling eyes and hidden smile. "We were simply becoming reacquainted, Darcy."
"Reacquainted?" Darcy asked, thoroughly scandalized.
Mrs. Collins sent a hard look toward Fitzwilliam before replying quite calmly, "Do not concern yourself, Mr. Darcy. General Fitzwilliam and I were… celebrating our decision to begin courting."
"Oh, Charlotte!" Elizabeth cried, running forward to hug first her friend and then Fitzwilliam. "How wonderful!"
Darcy's expression softened as he watched his wife's enthusiastic response, but his mouth was still pressed into a tight frown. "Congratulations, then, but I would hope not to be subjected to any more displays of that kind in my parlor."
"Oh, of course not, Darcy," Fitzwilliam responded with far too much contrition. "Because neither I nor Mrs. Collins has ever been subjected to such displays in this very parlor by the master and mistress of the house."
Darcy glared for a moment before finally, slowly, allowing a small smile to appear. "I have no idea what you could mean, cousin."
Elizabeth laughed delightedly, crossing the room and kissing Darcy full on the lips before dancing over to pull the dinner bell.
There was much cheerful chatter between the four of them as they waited for the meal to be announced, grins and significant glances all around, but Fitzwilliam felt that the crowning achievement of the evening, in some ways even better than the passion he and his lady had discovered between them, came just after Mrs. Collins wrapped her arm through his quite comfortably as he escorted her into the dining room.
She looked up at him from under thick, dark lashes. "I am not certain we are going to manage courting for very long, sir."
"I would marry you tomorrow, madam, if I did not think it would be kind to give Freddy some time to adjust to the idea."
"I do not imagine that will take very long either. He already believes the sun rises and sets with you."
"And you, Mrs. Collins? Do you agree with him?"
She offered him a very winsome half-smile. "Not yet. I suggest asking me again on… what is today? Monday? Ask me again on Thursday. Wednesday at the earliest."
"You can be assured that I shall do so. You know, I believe we are going to be remarkably content together."
"Against my temperament, I believe I am forced to agree with you… Richard." She kissed his cheek.
"'Twill only be the first of many times you shall be forced to agree with me, Mrs. Collins. I am right on at least a semi-regular basis."
She gazed up at him as he lowered her into her chair at the table, her eyes shining with something he only that moment realized he had never truly seen there before. It was happiness.
"Please, Richard. Call me Charlotte."