Thank you all, yet again. Really. And we haven't quite finished yet. After all, the only thing better than an epilogue? A two-part epilogue. Obviously.

Epilogue, Part One: You ought to give me wedding rings

"You know the chapel is licensed for weddings."

Will looks down from his perch on the fence railings into his sister's face. "What?"

"The chapel. Back home. The one in the woods."

"I know it. What I don't know is why you're telling me this."

She leans back against the fence and looks up at the blue sky. "Oh, you know. I just thought, this wedding is pretty and all. Beautiful even, but I'm not sure it's very you."

He snorts. "I'm not sure many men's weddings are very 'them'."

"You know what I mean."

He looks hard at her. "What you mean is when are you going to propose to Lizzie."

She determinedly doesn't look at him, but smiles. "Took you long enough."

He sighs. "We've been together for six months. That's the same length of time it took me to figure out my iPod."

She turns, leaning still back on her elbows and gives him a look which only a sister can give. "You've been in love with her for way longer than six months."

He smiles a little.

"And," she continues, "she is not an iPod."

"Who isn't an iPod?"

Lizzie walks off the porch and down to the fence, having managed to remove the most painful of the hair pins and swapped her heels for flats. "I mean," she adds, "apart from most human beings."

"You," says Will, and he grins.

"Right, I'm off to find some food," says George, "and leave you love birds in peace." She kisses Lizzie's cheek, moves away and then pauses. "Think about it, Will," she says, with a stern, steely look.

He smiles. "I have been, for a while."

She grins, and walks off back to the barn, now decorated for the wedding reception, leaving Lizzie alone with Will.

"What was that about?"

He takes her handbag for her, exclaiming at the extraordinary weight of the thing as she climbs up next to him. He raises an eyebrow. "If you mother was here she'd be warning you about your dress."

She waves it off. "What was it about?"

"You mostly."

She grins, and leans in to kiss him. "Well, isn't everything?"

His ability to scoff is hampered by her lips against his, so he smiles instead. "Just about," he says, finally. "Are your maid of honour duties done now?"

"Mmm," she says, leaning in, her head tucked against his shirt.

"You want to go for a walk?"

She sighs, and looks up at him. "Sadly, your best man duties aren't done. You've still got speeches to makes."

"Speeches?" he asks. "Plural?"

"Maybe one. Depends how good it is."

"It's good," he says. "I quote Dr Seuss."

She hits him in the chest. "You do not."

"I really do. The President helped me."

She looks up at him, shaking her head.

"What?" he asks. "The only other people I could ask were you, and you already had too much to do, or Charlie."

"And over me, who had too much to do, you chose the President."

"Yes," he grins winningly. "Now how many points do I get for that?"

"Some."

The buzz of voices increases as more people arrive back from the wedding ceremony and start to wander around the Bennets' grounds.

"We should probably go and mingle."

"Before Jane kills us?"

Lizzie smiles. "Something like that."

He jumps down, and lifts her down to follow. "More points, right? That was gentlemanly."

She reaches up and kisses him. "For every point you earn, you lose two for reminding me."

He laughs, and kisses her back. "Fine," he says. "Go for a walk later?"

"Sure."

Hand in hand, they wander back to the barn, to ready themselves for Will's speech.

"Now if I remember this correctly," says Will, putting down his champagne flute having toasted the happy couple, "this is the site of their first dance and, if Charles is to be believed, the night that he fell for his lovely wife."

A muted round of murmurs circles the room. Lizzie and Kit share a look of nausea, not unnoticed by Will.

"So," he continues, nevertheless, "I am requested to invite the newest Mr and Mrs Bingley onto the floor for their first dance as a married couple."

The rest of the room applauses as the happy couple take to the centre of the room. Thankfully, it blocks out Lizzie's murmured "what a sap," as well as her resultant shriek as Will, on the pretext of kissing her, blows a raspberry on her neck, and just covers Kit's following shriek as, whilst shrieking, Lizzie had also flailed and kicked her. Hard. In the shin. The entire table descends into less than mature behaviour, but most eyes are trained on Jane and Charlie, so only a few notice, and most don't care. Finally, as couples rise to join them, dancing to the music of the band, Lizzie and Will are left alone at the table. She wipes her neck, disgusted. "Just so you know, your points have now a massive minus sign in front of them."

He grins and shrugs. "Not so sappy now."

A smile tugs at her mouth, and she turns away to watch the dancing to hide it. Will sighs and takes a long drink from the bottle in front of him. Lizzie looks back at him, over her shoulder.

"You all right?" she asks, as he leans his head against the glass of the bottle.

"Mmm." He puts the bottle down and looks at the label. "Would you look at that."

"Same stuff."

He smiles, slowly and nods. "Your Grandma Bennet sure knew how to make lemonade."

Lizzie gives him an appraising look. "You have a headache?"

"Just a little one."

She leans in. "You know, dancing is a great cure for headaches." She smiles, winningly. "You want to?"

Dredging his mind, the first time he met her comes screaming back. "Not desperately," he says, smirking ever so slightly.

She leans in further, lips inches from his. "Yeah, this Groundhog Day thing isn't going to work, you know, because much as your saying that started a whole chain of fighting and more fighting and somewhere along the line," lips now a hairs breadth away, "kissing, I'm not going back to the beginning. We, William Darcy, are breaking the vicious circle."

"Really?" he asks, a sardonic smile on his face. "And how do you intend to br…"

She kisses him, effectively breaking the circle. Or at least, stopping him from talking.

"Huh," he says, a few seconds later. "That's how."

"Yes." She gathers up her bag and slings it over her shoulder, whacking Will in the arm with it as it swings.

"OW! Seriously, how much stuff do you carry in there?"

She smiles sweetly, and picks up her cardigan and his drink. "Come on." In a movement very much like the first time they met, she leads him out of the barn, and out into the twilight. This time, he manages to stop before barrelling into the fence.

"You going to sit me on there and grill me again?" he asks, lifting the lemonade out of her hands.

She gives him her handbag as well for a second, and shrugs on the cardigan, before taking the bag back. "No. Vicious circle, Will. Remember?"

"Right. And you're breaking it?"

"Exactly."

"And how are you going to do that, aside from just kissing me to shut me up?"

She shrugs. "Until I find a more effective method…"

He raises his hands. "Hey, I'm not complaining."

She smiles, and raises a hand to his face, smoothing the hair back. "How's the headache?"

His eyes had closed at her touch. They open again, slowly. "What headache?"

She smiles again, and runs her hand down, into his hand. Slowly, they walk along the fence together in the dim light, bats wheeling over head, and crickets chirruping. Away from the lights and sounds of the barn, up past the house, they arrive at the crest of the hill, the pond below them, and standing amongst the trees the silence is only broken by the hum of insects.

"I need to say something," says Will, stopping abruptly. Lizzie, still walking for a second longer, swings out past him, their hands still entwined. She stops and frowns.

"OK," she says, slowly.

"I don't know how to say this, and I know we've been taking things slowly and all…" He stops and sighs. "I just…"

"Wait," says Lizzie. "I think I need to say something first."

A horrible sinking feeling settles in Will's stomach, like he has just put in motion something much worse than another Groundhog Day, but a completely different story. The one where Lizzie ends up with someone else. He steps back and drops her hand.

She contemplates him for a moment. "Will, I've never been as happy as I have been these last six months. You've been extraordinary."

He nearly scoffs. Of course. But now…the but.

"You've done so much for me, and my family, and it sometimes feels a bit overwhelming, like I owe you this massive debt…"

"You owe me nothing," he breaks in. "I did it all for you." He looks at her keenly, trying to make her understand. "I love you, Lizzie."

She steps forward, and takes his hands. She's going to break up with him, she's going to never see him again, and all because he stuck his oar in and did all that stupid stuff for her. If only he hadn't. If only… "And I love you. Which is why," she says, standing even closer, "the very least that I can do, after everything, is propose to you."

William Darcy's world tilts. He holds onto Lizzie's hands to stop himself from falling off. She steps forward, and looks up at him, smiling, shadowed with apprehension. "Will?"

He finds his voice, somewhere in his shoes. "You're not breaking up with me?"

"What on earth for?"

Her bafflement sends a jolt through him. Somehow, it pulls his world back into order. "And you want to marry me?"

She smiles. Then she reaches into her abnormally heavy handbag, and pulls out a box. "Here," she says, and gives it to him.

It's not the strap, or the other dials, or the satisfying whirring click of many hands moving at different speeds, or even the inscription which he finds on the back and runs his thumb over. It's the fact that it looks a lot like the one his father had which makes it hard to breathe. That, and the implications of the watch which he now holds in his hand.

"What do you think?" asks Lizzie, concern lacing her voice. "I mean, I looked at thousands of them. Everything from yellow plastic ones with calculators in to ones that could probably land you on the moon. There was even this one which had the Tasmanian Devil on it? You know? It kind of jumped out on a spring and bounced about…"

He takes a step closer and pulls her to him in a bone crushing hug. Arms around her, the watch held firm in one hand, his lips against her hair, he feels her relax, and snake her arms around his waist. They stand there together, silent, arms around each other, until Lizzie leans back a little.

"What do you think?" she asks again, still with a thread of apprehension through her words. "I know it's not the done thing for the girl to propose. And you might not think it's a great idea. I mean, we've only been together for six months. I'd understand if you were a bit uncertain…" She trails off as he drops his embrace, and steps back. "Will?"

He snaps the watch box closed and carefully places it on the ground, before reaching inside his suit jacket. He pulls out another box, smaller this time, and hands it to her.

"Is this what I think it is?" Slowly, she opens it, and then bites her lip. "Oh, Will."

He moves back towards her. "It was my Grandmother's. It was left to me by my parents."

She lifts the ring out of the box and stares at it, speechless.

"George has Mom's engagement ring, which is fancier, I guess, but I liked this one more any way. I thought it was more you."

She looks up at him, and nods, still speechless. He takes the ring from her, then takes a deep breath.

"Lizzie, will you marry me?"

She blinks away a tear, and smiles. "Will you marry me?"

He grins. "Yes."

She nods again. "Yes," she repeats, and he slips the ring onto her finger. Then he pulls her into his arms again, and holds her tight. Eventually, the night air steals in, and, feeling the chill, they walk slowly back to the house, both smiling at the secret they have to keep until Jane is safely off on honeymoon.