Posted on Friday, 20 June 2003

Darcy looked down the elegantly laid table with a feeling of profound satisfaction. Five years ago, when he had stood against his family's expectations and married the delightful Miss Elizabeth Bennet, this is precisely what he had hoped for, but there had been moments when he questioned whether it would ever resolve itself as such. The cold formality with which some members of the family had received her had angered him almost more then the irate insolence of Lady Catherine's disappointed hopes. He had required more then some coaxing from Elizabeth to maintain patience, annoyed as he was that they would have actually wanted to hold him to the ridiculous notion of marrying his insipid and sickly cousin, offended that they would not give his intended a fair opportunity, hurt that they would not rejoice in his happiness when he had lacked it for so long. He could still vividly recall the heated argument with his uncle and felt as strongly now as he had at the moment his gratitude for his cousin Fitzwilliam's unwavering support and loyalty.

Darcy closed his eyes for a moment and the entire, awful conference flashed through his mind.

"And what of your cousin?" the Earl barked.

"I have never promised myself to my cousin. That has been the idea of others and I have never given cause to believe that I would grant Lady Catherine's wish," Darcy coldly responded.

"It was also your mother's wish as well as my own. You have never suggested that you would not comply with that wish."

"With all due respect sir, if I were to spend my life overtly rejecting every wished for alliance I would do nothing else." Colonel Fitzwilliam, sitting by the mantle while he watched his father and cousin pace around each other like two wild animals, attempted to stifle a chuckle at Darcy's wry response. The Earl shot his son a look of disapprobation.

"You have a duty to your family, Darcy."

"Duty!" Darcy cried in white-hot anger. "I will not allow even you, sir, to speak to me of my duty. I have done nothing but my duty my entire life. I have been a faithful son, a faithful brother, a faithful nephew and cousin. I will not have my honor questioned because I have chosen for once the duty I owe to myself and to my own happiness. I am my own master and I do not require the consent of anyone to marry whomever I wish."

"Perhaps not consent, but as the head of this family I should think you would wish for my blessing."

Darcy took in a deep breath to compose his roiling emotions. "I do sir, and that is why I am here. I am here to inquire when I might introduce you and my aunt to my future wife. I would, I will add, expect you to receive Miss Bennet with the respect she deserves. However, if you and my aunt will not do so, my choice is made, sir. I will not expose her to any more insolence from my family. Lady Catherine has done quite enough already."

The Earl paced the room, with his head down and his hands folded behind his back. Darcy remained silent, hostile and rigid as he planted himself in front of the fire.

"Was she very disrespectful?" The Earl asked after a time, his voice softened.

"Miss Bennet is not of a resentful character and therefore refuses to tell me exactly what expressions Lady Catherine used in their meeting. She believes there is no advantage to dwelling on Lady Catherine's words. I am, nevertheless, confident from subsequent comments her Ladyship has made directly to me that Miss Bennet was insulted by every possible method. I have made it clear to her Ladyship that if she will not apologize to Miss Bennet I will have no further contact with her. Sir, I will not sacrifice my happiness to anyone's whims, nor will I tolerate disrespect toward Miss Bennet."

"And what thinks Georgiana?"

"Georgiana has made Miss Bennet's acquaintance and is delighted that she will be her sister. I could ask for no better sister for Georgiana then Miss Bennet." Darcy paused and changing his tone, almost to one of supplication, added, "Sir, if you will but make her acquaintance with an open mind you will find in Miss Bennet a woman of significant worth."

The Earl stopped pacing and turned to his son, exasperated and incredulous. "Richard, you have made the acquaintance of Miss Bennet. Is she truly so unimaginably handsome as to have turned your reasonable cousin into such a fool for love that he is prepared to cast off his entire family? She must be, because passion is the only motive I can think of for which a man would act so recklessly."

"Sir, I have had the honor of Miss Bennet's acquaintance and I will tell you again what I told you and my mother when you first received Darcy's news. He has chosen well and he is fortunate to have won her affections. Miss Bennet is, I grant you, a handsome woman, particularly when she smiles, but she is by no means blindingly so. You mistake the matter, sir. Her charm is in her manner and her wit. And her worth is in the excellence of her character. I do not believe that my cousin could find a woman of greater loyalty or integrity. I am pleased for my cousin himself and, as one of Georgiana's guardians, I am also pleased for my charge. Miss Bennet will be an excellent example for Georgiana. Miss Bennet does not cower to anyone and holds herself with confidence and dignity. I have told you already sir, I will not join in this ridiculous scorn and disapprobation. I will consider it an honor to stand with my cousin on his wedding day."

The Earl sighed heavily. "Very well I submit. Darcy, I do not wish to cause a scandal or a separation. While I will withhold judgment on the lady herself, I will give you my blessing and her Ladyship and I will receive Miss Bennet as soon after you are wed as you desire." Without another word the Earl left the room.

"Darcy," Colonel Fitzwilliam said, rising and placing his hand on his cousin's shoulder, "Do not concern yourself with such nonsense. Miss Bennet will charm them so completely that they will be embarrassed by their present disapprobation."

"I have no doubts in regards to Elizabeth's ability to charm anyone, Fitzwilliam. But she does not deserve this treatment. Did you hear him?" Darcy snarled. "He will withhold judgment! He will meet with her only after we are wed! The insolence. I am tempted to send the whole lot of our relations to the devil!"

"Not an entirely bad notion Darcy, I admit. I suggest instead, however, you forget all this for now, finish with the settlement business and return swiftly to Hertfordshire where you will find much more pleasing companionship."

"I shall do just that," Darcy said, adding, "Thank you Fitzwilliam, for your support."

"Darcy, you have always stood with me when I have required it and you know I will always stand with you, and now, as your future wife, with Miss Bennet."

"Yes, I know Fitzwilliam." The two men had then shaken hands in testament to their bond.

Now all these years later Darcy sat silently at the head of his table and relished in Elizabeth's success. It was the Christmas season and all of the Fitzwilliam's, as well as the Bingley's and the Gardiner's, had come to Pemberley to celebrate the season. Tonight was the first night the entire party was united and Darcy felt his chest verily swell with pride as he watched his beloved wife reign over their table with the poise of a queen and the wit of a playwright. Sitting to her right was his uncle, the Earl, who was gazing upon her with undisguised affection and good will; to her left sat his cousin, the newly appointed Brigadier General Fitzwilliam, their faithful and loyal friend and her greatest admirer, second, of course, only to himself.

As Darcy watched his wife he was, as though he had never seen her before, bewitched anew by the ease of her grace, the artlessness of her elegance, the brilliant and intelligent expression of her eyes. In essentials she was still exactly the same woman he had fallen so helplessly and ardently in love with, but she was the same woman blossomed, multiplied, intensified, burgeoned. She had given him so much simply by loving him and sharing her ineluctable spirit with him, so that it gratified him that he had in turn been able to give her a life in which her natural talents and charms were given an opportunity to grow and flourish as never before. He watched her, transfixed by the playful musicality of her laughter, the radiance of her countenance, the suppleness of her shoulders as they rose from the soft, creamy silk of her gown. As though she sensed his attentions, Elizabeth turned from her dinner companions and lifted her eyes to his. Across the length of the table Darcy smiled, a small, intimate smile that was for her alone and he was rewarded with her own smile, a smile that was always born in her eyes and never failed to captivate him.

Summoning a footman, Darcy broke from his contemplation. "Before the ladies retire to the drawing room I would request your indulgence," he said to his gathered guests. Elizabeth looked at him with curiosity.

Three servants soon entered the dinning room and began to serve champagne for the table. When all were served, Darcy rose.

"You are all aware, of course, that a fortnight ago Mrs. Darcy and I celebrated our five years anniversary and that we had the great privilege of sharing that day with the Bingley's." He nodded his head in acknowledgment of Jane and Charles. His voice grew gentle as he continued. "I was doubly blessed on that day, for I was united to my dearest Elizabeth, who has filled my life with a happiness I had never known, and I also on that day earned in Jane a sister whose beauty of countenance is eclipsed by the goodness of her heart." Pausing, and in a more jovial tone, he finished. "So tonight, with the Bingley's now at our table, please join me in toasting the former Bennet sisters, who five years ago made two very besotted chaps two very fortunate men by consenting to be our wives."

"The Bennet sisters!" Bingley echoed as he rose his glass.

The table laughed good-humouredly and Darcy lifted his glass to his wife with a smile.

As Darcy took his seat again his uncle rose from his saying, "My dear nephew, may I request the indulgence of the table as well?"

"By all means sir." Darcy replied, as he looked to Elizabeth who raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"First allow me, Mrs. Bingley," the Earl began, "to request your most particular indulgence. While you were as certainly wed five years ago as was your sister, I would direct my words to Mrs. Darcy."

Jane bowed her head in acknowledgement.

"My dear Mrs. Darcy," he paused nervously. "You will I trust excuse an old man some words that perhaps are best left unsaid, but I am moved at the moment and as we are in the intimacy of a family circle, albeit a large circle, I beg you will excuse the liberty. I would wish to in some manner rectify a past error."

It was now Elizabeth who bowed her head in acknowledgement, as she surreptitiously passed a questioning glance toward Darcy, who shrugged his shoulder in confusion. The Earl continued.

"Five years ago when you wed my nephew I unhappily confess that we did not, on a whole and as a family, welcome you as was your due. My son, Richard, and my niece Georgiana were the wiser of us all. May I openly acknowledge now, Mrs. Darcy, my dear niece, how very wrong and stubborn and foolish we all were." He paused again and the table remained silent. Darcy looked toward Elizabeth but found her eyes downcast. "I shall never forget the afternoon we saw Darcy in London-perhaps you know nothing of this, I do not know, but in any case--we questioned him about your engagement with an impertinence that was, in retrospect, rather alarming. And he defended you with a steadfastness and an evident adoration that was, for us, at the time, equally alarming." The entire table noticed Elizabeth here raise her eyes to Darcy and smile. "I thought love had made him a fool as it is want to do to men with feeling hearts. But now, five years since, it has long been confirmed what has always aggravated me about my nephew: Darcy has not a bit of the fool about him." The table laughed at the Earl's sardonic tone. "You are an exceptional woman, Mrs. Darcy," he continued. "I admire your wit, your independence and your loyalty; I most particularly appreciate your forgiveness and your forbearance." Pausing for effect, he added dryly, "I will leave it to my nephew to praise your beauty, as he so regularly does." The table laughed again as Elizabeth blushed prettily.

"Over these last five years, you have not only blessed my nephew with your sincere and warm affection, you have blessed us all. Please all of you join me in toasting to the health and happiness of a most adored niece." Bowing gracefully and raising his glass, he added, "To Elizabeth!"

As the Earl took Elizabeth's hand in his and kissed it gracefully, Darcy felt his heart swell with satisfaction. Indeed, this will be a most joyful season, he mused.

Later that evening, after the ladies had all retired, the gentlemen spent some time in the card room, with cigars and brandies. Eventually, Darcy and Bingley found themselves the last remaining gentlemen.

"Is everything well with you Bingley?" Darcy inquired of his friend.

"Hmm?"

"You appeared very quiet this evening. Very unlike yourself. Is all well?"

"Oh yes, quite well Darcy."

"I do not wish to force your confidence Bingley, but you can trust to my discretion should you desire. Come, tell me if you wish what has you so uncharacteristically withdrawn." As he spoke, Darcy handed Bingley another brandy.

"Withdrawn am I? I don't know. Perhaps it is just being about the Fitzwilliam clan. I do not believe I have ever been around you all at once. You are a rather imposing bunch. All are here but Lady Catherine, no?"

"Yes. But I don't suppose you wish me to believe that do you? You are quite welcome to say that you are in no mood to share confidences. Just be aware that when you are I shall endeavor to be a discrete friend."

"Yes, I know that Darcy, but really, there is no need."

Trying to take Darcy's attention from himself, Bingley said all at once, "That was a lovely toast your uncle gave in Lizzy's honor."

"It was rather. I confess to some surprise."

"Why? I thought they had all long since come around to your view of things regarding Lizzy."

"Oh, I did not mean to imply differently. While it is true that when we first married she was not welcomed by the family with the warmth I would have desired-excepting of course Georgiana and Fitzwilliam-she has long since won them all over. I think Lady Matlock was the first, and slowly even Lady Catherine stopped abusing her, which is of course tacit acknowledgment that she was wrong. Still, it has never been spoken of so openly before, certainly not in Elizabeth's presence. It was simply overlooked as the years passed."

"It must please you that Lizzy has conquered them all so completely."

"I never doubted that once they were acquainted with her that she would, Bingley. Now I am able to look upon it with less anger I imagine at the time they were concerned that I had fallen victim to a mere infatuation with a pretty face and would live to repine my choice given that when the infatuation died she would have no compensating title or fortune. My family simply would not admit to the possibility of the quality of her character, nor did they understand the depth of my affections."

"They were rather put out with you at the time. I was surprised at how much."

"And I was equally put out with them. But it is all in the past now, and as Elizabeth said once, in cases such as these a good memory is unpardonable!" Darcy laughed. "Now I think on it," he continued, "it strikes me as odd."

"I do not understand your meaning Darcy."

"I was raised, we had all been raised, weaned on lessons that emphasized the importance of family but it's almost as though affection was secondary in the whole picture. We were taught loyalty and duty to family, what was owed to the rank and fortune of the family. Respect was a word we often heard, but affections were never discussed. I suppose, in retrospect, it is something my family has had little experience with, a love match, that is."

"Well, affections do change, Darcy, after all."

"What are you intimating Bingley?"

"Nothing radical Darcy, just that the nature of affections do change. You can hardly say that you have the same ardor for Lizzy as when you fist married, that the nature of your affection has not changed. Five years and children and familiarity changes all that."

"I am afraid I do not understand Bingley. Has your affection gone through so material a change, or do you speak of Jane?"

Bingley shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Indeed, both men were suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation. The nature of one's love and affection, after all, is such an intimate personal topic for conversation and then they had such divided loyalties now. As friends they would always be discreet, but then they were each brother to the other's wife and therefore protectors of their interests and concerns. Bingley, having had perhaps a few more brandies then was his want, however, persevered.

"Don't you ever see a young, lively pretty girl at a ball and recall that first rush of love, Darcy? That dizzying sensation of admiration? That desire to discover the softness of her hand or the sound of her voice whispering endearments?"

"Bingley!" Darcy interrupted with great perturbance. "What are you trying to tell me?"

They stared at each other for a moment in tense silence. Darcy suddenly felt a danger for Jane, a need to protect her as fiercely as he would Georgiana.

"Forgive me if I am wrong, Bingley, but you have not? You are not contemplating?" Darcy could not continue, he could not insult his friend's honor with such a supposition, but he knew the society in which they lived, he knew the latitude generally allowed gentlemen and he knew as well that Bingley had been spending more time then was strictly necessary away from his estate and family and in London of late. Seeming to finally understand Darcy's suggestion, Bingley blushed.

"No Darcy! Good G-d no!"

"I apologize if what I asked offended you Bingley. I imagine I cannot understand what you are about is all. And Jane is my sister."

Bingley stood up and put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "I am grateful that you care enough about my wife to question me old friend. But know that I will never betray Jane. It would take a man of great cruelty to betray such a gentle heart." Bingley paused and turned to look into the fire. He continued in a soft, melancholy voice. "I suppose all this talk this evening about it being five years since we all wed has me thinking is all, about how much it all changes."

"How much what changes?"

"The nature of love and affection. I love Jane, Darcy, and I will always be true to her, it's just not the same as when we married. Not as exciting. I know that is all quite to be expected, but tonight it struck me I suppose." Shaking his head, he added with a laugh, "This is why I try to leave all the thinking to you Darcy, I go off into strange places when I think. Do not be concerned, all is well."

"You would tell me if it were otherwise?"

"I would Darcy. I would." Bingley took one final sip of brandy, patted his friend's shoulder and went to bed, leaving a very ponderous Darcy in his wake.

As Darcy made his way upstairs he was overcome with a need to see his children. He walked into the nursery and placed his candle on the table by his son's bedside. Will was now four and was every bit a Darcy-there was not even a hint of his mother in the boy's physical appearance. He was as dark as his father, with the same dark and expressive eyes, the same dark and unruly hair, long limbs that promised the same tall and lean figure. Mrs. Reynolds, who had known Darcy since he was a boy, marveled at the similarities. But the boy had an easy playfulness more like his mother, and for this Darcy was grateful. He hoped all his children would prove as enchanting and unaffected as their mother. He ran his hand over the sleeping boy's head, leaned down and kissed his forehead. Picking up his candle, he then went to his daughter's side. Margaret had as little Bennet in her appearance as her brother, with the exception of her eyes, which promised to be as bewitching as her mother's. She was only just two, but seemed thus far to be quieter then her brother. Darcy smiled down at her as she pulled a small doll closer into her embrace as she turned in her sleep. I had never noticed that before, he thought to himself. She cradles her doll just as Elizabeth cradles her, her hands in the same position, her fingers with the same gentle bend. Kissing his daughter as he had his son, he left the nursery, an expression of great fulfillment gracing his noble mien.

As he walked down the hall toward the master chambers he thought of the conversation he had had earlier with Bingley. His friend's strange and only half-made confession saddened him deeply. That Bingley, who had always overflowed with mirth, should have such a strange hint of melancholy at the progression of years, while he himself felt as though each new day had brought him new rewards, was disquieting. That Bingley loved and cared for his wife was clear-how could one not love Jane, in truth; she was all goodness and kindness and, although she looked a bit tired and worn on this visit, she remained a very handsome woman-but it also seemed that it was a love Bingley now found somehow lacking. Darcy wondered if it was inevitable that Bingley would find himself thus, regardless of whom he had married given his penchant before marriage to fall in and out of love with such ease. Bingley had always been free and easy with his admiration and regard, happily pleased with anyone who would willingly smile and converse, always attracted to new situations and acquaintances. Still, it troubled Darcy, as much for Jane as for Bingley. Darcy had come to respect and esteem Jane over these five years and he understood clearly Elizabeth's devotion to her sister-Jane must have been, he often thought, like a touchstone when they were still unwed and at Longbourn, a rarified calmness in that house of often improper boisterousness. Although he could not quite understand why Jane had always been held by the family as the superior of the sisters-she lacked Elizabeth's sharp mind and her enchanting liveliness-he held her as a woman worthy of the highest esteem and admiration. Darcy comprehended that Bingley could not have a more true or constant affection then that he received from Jane. That his friend's ardent love should have died down to this comfortable almost dutiful affection so soon, when they were both still so young, was heartrending. They were, after all, now no older then he had been when he had married Elizabeth-and he had then been so filled with startling, abundant desires that he could not imagine being so young and feeling such a tepidity of affections.

Arriving in his bedchamber, Darcy put his candle on the mantel and in its soft reflection gazed at the portrait of his wife that now hung on the wall above. Elizabeth had surprised him with it a fortnight ago on their anniversary. As he looked at the picture he recalled how on that morning, while she was in an unusually early conference with Mrs. Reynolds, he had placed a small box at her usual place at the table. He was enchanted by her happy surprise when she came in for breakfast and found it there and delighted by her appreciation of the gift: it was a simple, modest gift, but endowed with meaning, and as she showed her evident appreciation he had reflected again at his great good fortune in having such an honest and unaffected woman as his wife. Some minutes later Mrs. Reynolds had entered the room, saying with a smile, "All is now prepared as you requested, Mrs. Darcy." Elizabeth had then taken him by the hand and led him back upstairs to the door of his bedchamber, asking him to close his eyes, she led him into the room. Stopping him and slightly lifting his chin she had bid him look. What he beheld when he opened his eyes took his breath away. At first he could not exactly determine what it was about the portrait that so stirred him-the sultry line of her shoulders, the diaphanousness of the gown as it caressed the rise of her bosom, the languidness of her posture. But as he stood in silence and took it in he realized what it was: captured there on the canvas, looking straight into his eyes, were her eyes, filled with that unmistakable expression of faithful love that he knew was given only to him and he was moved.

"When did you have this painted?" he had finally asked, taking her into his arms.

"When we were in London last spring I went to visit Sir Lawrence and he agreed to paint me. He finished it when we were lately in London. I told him that it was a surprise for my dear husband. In fact, I was very forward and told the good man that this was for your bedchamber and that I wanted to capture my youthful prettiness before it was gone and so he must make me very handsome and very alluring, but not so improper that my children could not look upon it. Did he succeed do you think?"

"My love, he has most certainly succeeded and I could not be more pleased. Thank you," he smiled and kissed her.

Elizabeth laughed mischievously and replied, "I am so pleased you approve my dear. Now I shall forever hang in your bedchamber in all the prettiness of youth so that when we are very old you will recall why you had loved me with such passion."

"I shall never need reminding of that, my dearest, most beloved wife," he replied tenderly.

As he continued to look upon the picture, the candlelight flickering gently, Darcy knew that what he had told her was true. His love remained as ardent as the day he had first so carelessly proposed-it was just that now that ardor was not confined and ensnared and denied so it did not feel as though it was consuming his very soul, rather it did quite the opposite, feeding him, nourishing his every breath. And then, his love was so much richer now, more complex and fulfilling. There was more now then just ardor and passion, there was tenderness and trust and gentleness. And gratitude. It wasn't a wanting any longer, but a giving.

Darcy turned from the picture and went to his dressing room, undressed and wrapped himself in a warm dressing gown. Picking up his candle again, he went into his wife's bedchamber, and placed the candle on the table at her bedside. He went to the window and pulled open the drapes that the room might be filled by the half-moon's bright light. He returned to her bedside and looked down upon her face, illuminated by the moonlight. Darcy was sure Elizabeth had grown more beautiful since they wed, he did not know how or why, he could only see it and admire her. At first he thought it was only his own affection that made him think it so, but he knew now that he was not the only person who believed so. He recalled with a gratified smile when he had shown his guests-his family--the portrait she had gifted him just a fortnight ago. Fitzwilliam, always ready with a pretty compliment, had remarked that it was indeed lovely, but not at all as lovely as the original. But then, to the astonishment of all, his cousin Edward-a man as unlikely to bestow a compliment as you could find and a man who had not at first embraced Darcy's choice of a wife-- looked upon the room and remarked that it was indeed rare the lady who became more handsome with each passing year and not less so, but that Mrs. Darcy was surely that rare exception.

Darcy blew out the candle, removed his dressing gown and slipped into bed next to his wife. He lay close to Elizabeth and gathered her into his arms. His face sunk into her abundant hair and he inhaled eagerly as he began to slowly, lightly run his hand down her side. He knew her every curve, the smell of her body and the sweetness of her breath; he knew the softness of her skin and the silky thickness of her hair. He ran his hand over her growing belly and let it rest there. Now she was with child again he could feel the thickening of her waist, the increase in her breasts-he found her remarkably beautiful when she was with child, her entire face radiating serenity and joy seeming like a halo hovering about her. He breathed in her fragrance again and placed a kiss on her shoulder; he felt her stir. Yes, he still desired her as ardently, as passionately as when they were first married. He desired still to feel her warm flesh against his hands, the abandon of her body beneath him, the eagerness of her embrace, the exquisite delicateness of her touch. Her touch, he thought as he took her hand into his own, never coy, never obvious, but always confident, generous and graceful. He could not understand how a man could stop desiring the woman he loves. He was sure when they were old he would still desire her, for it was so much more then just the pleasure. In the intimacy of their bed as their bodies embraced he could touch her very soul and she his, and he could never have enough of it.

"My darling wife," he whispered as he pulled her closer into his embrace.

"You are here," she replied, sleepily, tenderly as she turned into his embrace.

Now she was turned away from the window so he could barely see her face. He lifted his hand and began to softly caress her adored features: her pert nose, her supple lips, her wonderfully soft cheeks. Darcy was flooded with tender, insatiable craving and as he took her lips within his own he whispered simply, "I am here, my love."

The End