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Elizabeth’s smile widened. “Apparently, most pleased with your aunt’s changes to Mary’s hair and the colors she chose for her wardrobe.” She giggled. “When she stepped out of Mr. Bingley’s carriage, Mama failed to recognize her own daughter.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow. “It was a remarkable transformation.”

“Mary was always remarkable,” Elizabeth said. “No one troubled to notice.” She smoothed the letter in her lap. “My father is desperate for news of me, apparently. But he is too proud to ask outright. Nor can he stir himself to write. Mary has decided it is past time he learned humility and is volunteering nothing. She is keeping Jane busy with Mama so Papa can ask her nothing.”

“She is wise.”

“She always was.” Elizabeth set the letter aside.

This woman had walked into his life in a muddy hem and altered everything he thought he knew about himself. He felt the familiar, still-astonishing weight of how deeply he loved her.

“Do you have any regrets?”

Elizabeth rose from her chair and crossed to him, standing beside him with the ease of a woman entirely at home. She took his face in her hands, and he saw in her expression everything he needed to know before she spoke a word.

She kissed him. Not briefly, not lightly, but with a tenderness so complete that it rendered the question almost unnecessary. Almost.

When she drew back, her eyes were at peace. “None.”

Darcy covered her hands with his, holding them against his face.

Outside,London went about its busy December business. Somewhere in Hertfordshire, Mr. Bennet sat in his library with a newspaper that had changed everything. And here, in the library of Darcy House, Darcy held his wife and knew, with absolute certainty, that this was exactly where they were meant to be.

A letter had arrived that morning—brief, addressed to Elizabeth in her father’s hand. She had read it twice, then showed it to him without a word. Mr. Bennet was not, Darcy suspected, a man given to apologies. It, at least, contained an acknowledgment along with a line from Shakespeare about wisdom coming too late. And at the bottom, in careful script:I am glad you are well, Lizzy. I am glad you chose wisely.

It was, Darcy understood, as close to a blessing as the man would ever give.

Setting the missive aside, Darcy held the woman who filled him with light and purpose and love. He would cherish her forever.

A choice freely made.