Like the Gentleman He Was Chapter 2: Epilogue, a pride and prejudice fanfic

A/N

Epilogue of LTGHW.

Hope you enjoy.

Like the Gentleman He Was

Epilogue

June 5, 1812, Darcy House, London

"Would you mind telling me why we are creeping down the stairs at midnight like thieves in our own house, Elizabeth?"

Although his voice was tinged with mild exasperation, Darcy kept it low in the spirit of whatever game his wife had taken in her head to make them play tonight.

"Why, Mr Darcy, you sound a little upset. Would you rather be somewhere else?"

"Yes, I would! In your arms and preferably on my bed," he leaned forward to murmur in her ear.

Elizabeth chuckled softly, even as her heart did its usual somersault, like it did whenever her husband whispered such naughty things in her ear in that gravelly voice. "How poetic, my dear husband. I am confident that in a few more months you will be able to give competition to Byron."

"Heaven forbid!"

"And just for your information, Fitzwilliam, it is still not midnight," Elizabeth murmured as she led him inside Lady Anne's parlour. As if on cue, the cuckoo clock in the room chimed the hour.

At the sound, Elizabeth turned to face her husband with a tremulous smile. "Happy birthday, my love," she murmured, and then rose on her toes to give him a passionate kiss. For a long moment, there was silence in the room, punctuated only by murmured endearments.

When the kiss finally ended, Darcy brushed his knuckles over her cheek gently. "Thank you, my heart. But why have we come down here to celebrate? Is this why Higgins forgot to snuff the candles in the room?" he asked as he looked around. His eyebrow rose when his gaze fell on a gaily wrapped package on one of the tables.

"Is that for me?" Even before Elizabeth could finish nodding, Darcy had picked up the package and was eagerly removing the wrapping.

"Hmm. It appears to be… a painting. What…. Oh!"

He stood staring at his own portrait in silence. It twisted something in his heart to see that she had chosen to paint him in his study—the very place that held so many pleasant memories for him of their time together. Suddenly, he remembered that he had worn the very same green waistcoat when they discussed the problems of the anonymous Miss Smith. His lips turned up in an amused smile—the exact replica of the one in the painting—and slowly, he traced a gentle finger over the artist's signature.

"When did you paint it?" he looked up at her and asked huskily. The bright sheen in his eyes disconcerted Elizabeth.

"In those horrid eighteen days that you were away from me, it was this painting that kept me sane."

"Oh!" he murmured softly before bending down to bestow a soft, comforting kiss on her lips.

After a moment of blissful silence, he said simply, "It is beautifully done, my love, thank you."

Elizabeth looked up at him and swallowed nervously. "Beautiful enough to join all the other paintings there?" She nodded her head towards the wall where all of Darcy's paintings of his family were on display.

"Yes, it is. More than beautiful enough," Darcy replied baldly. "I will ask Higgins to hang it there tomorrow."

"Thank you, Fitzwilliam. It pained me that there was not even a single glimpse of you on a wall that you made rich with such precious memories. Now that wall will be complete," she said, satisfaction apparent in her voice and countenance.

Darcy put the painting back on the table, then wordlessly pulled her into his arms and hugged her so tightly that she felt that a rib or two would crack in protest. "It can never be complete without your likeness hanging there," he muttered as he gently rubbed his cheek against hers. "And how I wish now that I was less selfish and had finished your portrait more quickly to bring it with us."

"You are not selfish, Fitzwilliam! The portrait is coming along nicely, and you were not to know that I will force you to travel to London now, when we had planned to visit in October."

"But I could have finished that portrait if I had not prioritised my own inclinations to paint another one of you," he murmured in her ears.

"What other painting?" she leaned back and enquired curiously.

Darcy sighed. "One that is fit only for my eyes."

Elizabeth's brow shot up at his words and the manner in which he flushed. "Where is it? At Pemberley?"

He sighed again, then admitted sheepishly. "Upstairs, in my room."

"Oh! Will you show it to me?"

He appeared indecisive for a moment, then grinned. "Well, why not? It is your painting, after all. Come along, then."

When they entered the master's bedchamber, Darcy went straight to a large chest of drawers and opened the lowest drawer to retrieve his canvas holder.

"I brought it with me as I dared not leave it at Pemberley," he murmured, then smiled when his eyes met hers. "…and because I love gazing at it," he added as he took out a rolled canvas from the holder and spread it open.

Elizabeth's eyes widened as the full image came into her view. It was a painting of her lying on her side on her husband's bed, sleeping. A counterpane was draped around her body. Although only her arms, shoulders, and legs from the calves and below were visible, somehow there was no mistaking that it was the counterpane that preserved her modesty. Elizabeth's gaze slowly travelled over her body to finally rest on her face, which bore a half-smile of… complete fulfilment, and she blushed at the image of utter abandonment the painting portrayed.

"Whenever I see that painting, I feel proud of myself all over again," Darcy murmured from behind her as he rested his chin on her shoulder.

"Well, it is beautifully painted," Elizabeth said in a hushed voice.

"The painting is beautiful because its subject is beautiful, but that is not why I am proud of it."

"Really? Then why exactly are you proud of it?" she turned her head towards him and raised and inquisitive eyebrow. His face was so near hers that she could have counted his thick, curly lashes if she were so inclined.

Darcy grinned, then leaned forward still more to whisper against her lips, "For putting that expression on your face."

"Oh." Elizabeth blushed hotly, but before she could say anything else, her husband murmured, "Let us see if I can achieve the feat again," before his mouth closed over hers hungrily.

~§§§~

May 6, 1813, Pemberley

Elizabeth woke up with a start when she heard Bennet making the cooing noises that he usually made in his father's arms. But Fitzwilliam and Georgie are in Matlock for Emmaline and James's wedding, she thought as she opened her eyes and looked around.

Her eyes immediately found her husband, who was sitting opposite her, holding a two-month-old Bennet in his arms, and smiling at her.

"When did you return?"

"About half an hour ago."

"Half an hour! Why did you not wake me up?"

"You looked so comfortable that I did not have the heart."

"Oh." Elizabeth brushed a hand over her hair before asking, "Where is Georgie?"

"I suppose she has gone to her room. She had come here to greet you and Bennet, but seeing that you both were sleeping so peacefully, she too decided not to disturb you."

Elizabeth looked at the Ormolu clock on the mantelpiece. It was just after four o'clock. She got up to ring the bell for tea. "Would you like some tea?"

Suddenly, Bennet let forth a soft whimper. "First, let us take Bennet outside for a while. He is your son after all, always happy to be out in nature." Darcy grinned at her.

"It is only fair, I suppose, that he should at least behave like me when he looks exactly like you," Elizabeth countered him with a smile.

"Not true, madam. He has your eyes."

"Hmm."

The child let out another whimper, a louder one this time. "I hope he is not hungry," Darcy enquired as the thought struck him suddenly.

"No, he finished his meal just a little while before you arrived."

"Well then, let us go."

"How was the wedding?" Elizabeth asked as they stepped out of the parlour and into a garden with beautiful flower beds.

"Just like a wedding." Darcy smiled ruefully when she rolled her eyes. "I think Georgie would give you a better answer, replete with details about wedding finery and the like. All I can tell you is that Emmaline looked very happy, and even Bramwell smiled continuously."

"Well, they should be happy. They waited more than a year after coming to an understanding."

"I can understand Bramwell's rationale. Had I been in his place, even I would have wanted to spruce up my estate a bit before bringing you home."

"Well, Emmaline was not happy with the decision, and I can understand her feelings," Elizabeth said dryly.

"Well played, my dear." Darcy's lips quirked up. "By the by, I have a few bits of very pleasant news to share with you."

"What are they?"

"Well, the easier one first. Gregory informed me that Minerva is with child again. And from what I could observe of her mien, I believe she has finally allowed herself to forgive her husband."

"I am happy for them," Elizabeth retorted quietly. "And what is the not-so-easy news?" she asked after a moment, when he remained silent.

"Well, today I heard the strangest marriage proposal, and you would not believe who the couple is!"

There was an air of suppressed excitement about her husband, which told Elizabeth that, in addition to being surprised, he was rather happy about the event.

"Did the colonel finally propose to Anne?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Darcy's mouth dropped open in shock. "How did you…. I hope you know that sometimes you can be quite annoying?" Darcy asked her in a voice laced with just a tinge of exasperation.

Elizabeth grinned. "Well, you keep telling that to me often. But since I have understood that it happens whenever you believe I have been more canny than you, I take it as the compliment that it is."

Darcy chuckled at the saucy words. "Minx!" he murmured before bending down to capture her lips in a kiss he had been wanting ever since his return.

"Aa…ff!" Bennet's loud cry forced them apart before things could get too heated.

Elizabeth smiled ruefully. "I think Bennet, too, is interested in listening about that strangest proposal by Colonel Fitzwilliam."

Darcy grinned unexpectedly. "At least you got something wrong! It was Anne who made the proposal, not Richard!"

"Oh!" Elizabeth's eyes rounded in surprise. "From her letters, I did get the feeling that her heart was engaged, but not to such an extent!"

"Hmm. So, that is how you knew! Well, I thought I had created a bad situation when I excused myself from visiting Rosings for my yearly visit, and Anne requested Richard to come there on his own."

"I have never heard Richard being so rude, Elizabeth! He told Anne that she was becoming increasingly autocratic and managing, like her mother! And what an unattractive trait it was in a woman!"

Elizabeth gasped. "He did not!"

"He did! And it was so unfair that I was afraid that Anne would reprimand him for speaking such nonsense! Instead, she asked, if he had such a problem with her managing things, why did he not start managing Rosings for her?"

"Even as I was wondering what this was all about, Lady Catherine jumped into the conversation, and I suppose it was the first time in my life that I was grateful for her intervention!"

Elizabeth let out a surprised chuckle and Darcy too grinned before continuing, "Pointing her cane at Richard, she nearly damaged my eardrum when she bellowed, 'Stop cutting your nose to spite your face, Richard. You are hurting my daughter and yourself for one petulant remark from me! You know I did not really mean that you came sniffing after the estate. I was just angry at Matlock for sending you to spy on me!'"

"Perhaps she really does care about her daughter," Elizabeth murmured thoughtfully.

"Hmm. To cut a long story short, Richard and Anne then left the stunned revellers at the wedding breakfast to resolve their differences and returned betrothed."

"Ooh!" Elizabeth giggled at his droll recital. "That is excellent news, Fitzwilliam."

"Yes, I am delighted for Anne and Richard."

~§§§~

By now, they had reached the area with the horse enclosure. "Oh, look, Fitzwilliam, there is Poseidon out there with his family!"

"So he is," Darcy murmured, and by tacit agreement, they walked towards the enclosure. Darcy had just put a hand over the wooden fence when Poseidon came hurrying towards him. Snowdrop came forward a little slower as she was trying to nudge her shy two-month-old son—Blaze—in front of her. Blaze was so named because, although he was a midnight black colt with his father's colouring, there was a white flame-like mark on his forehead, the only concession in his appearance to his mother.

Blaze was born in February of this year, proving that Darcy and she were entirely correct when they suspected that Snowdrop was thawing toward Poseidon. And now, here she was, proudly pushing her son forward for their inspection.

"Yes, Snowdrop, love, your son is beautiful," Elizabeth murmured softly, but Bennet was not so delicate in his sensibilities. He took one look at Blaze and gave one loud, long monologue in kiddish, which was perhaps comprehensible only to the other kid in their midst because Blaze gently nickered in response.

After this important discourse, Bennet turned to smile proudly at his father, who responded with great aplomb. "That was very well said, Bennet. I do agree with you," Darcy said, before kissing his son on the forehead.

As Elizabeth stood observing her smiling husband and son, her heart turned over in her breast. The utter contentment and happiness she felt at the moment were in such contrast to the despair she had undergone a year ago that all she could do was thank the Almighty for his great kindness.

She had received a surprisingly mellow letter from her mother a few days ago. In the last few months, she had seen a decided shift in the tone and tenor of Mama's letters. They increasingly reflected gratitude for her family's good fortune, rather than lamentations about the entail and her harried nerves. And now Fitzwilliam had brought such glad tidings from Matlock. For one moment, she wondered about Jennifer and Sebastian. She had never come to know what was wrong with their marriage, or if anything was wrong with it at all. With a fervent prayer to the Almighty for their happiness, Elizabeth leaned sideways to rest her head on Fitzwilliam's shoulder, who immediately opened his arm to hug her close.

Who would have imagined that a marriage brought about by rumours and gossip could turn out so blissful? It could happen only because Fitzwilliam was the gentleman he was! Elizabeth closed her eyes with a contented smile at the thought.

finis

Like The Gentleman He Was