Page 91 of Knowing Mr. Darcy

She thought about nearly marrying Mr. Bingley or the time that Jane had run off with Mr. Wickham or Mr. Collins arriving and wanting to marry a Bennet sister. It could have gone wrong, very, very wrong, many times.

But.

It hadn’t.

Here in her arms was proof that everything was just exactly perfectly right.

“Well,” said Mr. Darcy, “he looks just like you, which is a good thing.”

“He does not. He’s practically a copy of you,” said Elizabeth.

Her husband tilted his head. “I suppose he does look a bit like me, in the end. I did my part, then.”

She snorted. “Yes, your part has been very onerous.”

“No question, your part is more involved and difficult and painful. I never said we had equal parts to do in this endeavor, did I?”

She snorted again.

“I don’t deserve you?”

“You do not,” she said.

“Or this perfect son you’ve given me.”

“Definitely not.”

“But at least I’m wealthy and made you mistress of all this.”

“At least there is that,” she said, smiling up at her husband. “I suppose you want to hold him.”

“That would be tolerable.” He was smiling.

“Only tolerable?”

He chuckled softly.

“Come here,” she said. “James, this ridiculous man isyour father. He is actually quite wonderful once he stops getting in his own way.” She held the baby up to her husband. “Well, then, take your son.”

He did, gingerly.

James started to wail nearly immediately.

“I don’t think he likes me,” said Mr. Darcy, smiling down at the baby.

“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s a baby. He’s just crying because—”

“But I think he’s the most perfect thing on earth,” said her husband in a hushed voice. “I should be quite happy to hold him while he squalls for all time.”

She smiled. “Rock him.”

“Ah, people do that with babies.” Mr. Darcy rocked. James quieted.

Her smile grew even wider. There they were, right there, the two pieces of her heart. She had never felt so in love.

Outside, it was morning, and the sun was stealing up over the horizon, touching its goden rays over the grounds of Pemberley. Outside, the birds were awake and the trees were rustling in the breeze. Outside, the world went on, enclosing them here in their home. Together.

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