He smiled.
“Eventually Charlotte will want her own home, I think,” Elizabeth warned him. “And your cousin will encourage her.”
“There is plenty of land here for another house,” her husband said. “Although not of this size.”
“Charlotte will not repine,” Elizabeth replied. “She prefers a neat and cosy home, though I suspect her husband’s notion of cosy is rather larger than hers. In the meantime, we will work together to make Pemberley the grand dame she is meant to be.”
She felt herself being lifted and twirled about.
“Did Mr. Horatio Darcy ever witness how much pleasure you felt, being here?” Elizabeth asked when her husband finally set her back on her own feet. “For if he did, I understand why, when he found he could no longer trust his brother, he thought next of you.”
He touched her cheek and grew thoughtful. “I believe he did.”
Elizabeth placed her hand over his and held it there. “Mrs. Reynolds says there is much work to be done.”
Her husband nodded. “There are quite five times the repairs to make to this old place as there were in London, but I have faith in us.” He gazed steadily at her. “I have known hardship, I have known fear, I have known deprivation. I know what it is to carry nearly everything I own on my back. You understand because it was much the same for your family.”
Elizabeth smiled indulgently at him. “At least I lived indoors.”
“But with twenty-nine sisters and at least a dozen kittens.”
She laughed. His excitement was contagious. “We shall simply learn what is required to support Pemberley and those who depend upon her.”
“Our lives will never be dull.”
“I should say not.” She gazed across the valley at Pemberley. “It is the most beautiful house I believe I have ever seen.”
“It is.” Fitzwilliam followed her eyes, looking out at the house again. “This was an entirely unexpected inheritance, but the best part of it is not the houses or the carriages or the horses.” He paused to consider. “Well, the horses are an excellent benefit.” He grinned and took her hand, spinning her as though they were in a ballroom.
Elizabeth shook her head at him. “Have you at last learnt to enjoy dancing, Mr. Darcy?”
“With you.”
Her cheeks warmed, but she could not help but smile up at him for such a declaration.
Her handsome husband took her in his arms and kissed her full on the mouth.
“Fitzwilliam,” she hissed once she had regained her senses. “You will set the servants to talking before we have even arrived at the house!”
“Let them talk,” he said. “They will grow used to us.”
Elizabeth glanced up at the driver, who was studiously ignoring them. “I suppose there is no chance of passing myself off as anything other than what I am,” she said. It was all pretence, of course. While she was not used to her husband offering such an exuberant display of affection, she enjoyed it immensely.
“I would not have you be anyone but who you are,” he told her, his typical seriousness returning. “For I fell in love with a general’s daughter.”
“Who must now be the mistress of a grand estate,” she replied, just a touch of unease attending her words.
“Who better to excel at it? We did well in London, did we not?”
She nodded. “Though it required a good deal of time and effort, learning everything we were to do.”
“And it will be just the same here,” he responded happily. “Learning everything anew, how to care for Pemberley and all who depend upon her, but with the benefit of what we already know. Is it not wonderful?”
Elizabeth had been raised to know the exquisite satisfaction of helping others, but never had she expected to have such resources with which to fund her endeavours. This was exactly the sort of life with exactly the sort of man she would have dreamt for herself had she had the smallest inkling that either one existed. “Yes,” she agreed.
“I cannot believe I am here,” he told her, an earnestness in his voice that touched her heart. “A year ago I was abroad, in battle after battle, with little hope of ever returning home. Now I am here at Pemberley. With you.”
“Oh Fitzwilliam,” she whispered tearfully. “I love you so.”