A Fine Stout Love and Other Stories by Renee Beyea

Author:Renee Beyea [Beyea, Renee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781944224028
Publisher: Oakham Press
Published: 2016-01-06T05:00:00+00:00

FINALE

January 1813, Meryton, Hertfordshire

Elizabeth squinted against the refracted brilliance as they exited Meryton’s church to the ovation of well-wishers and a dusting of snow. The newly minted Mr. and Mrs. Bingley preceded them toward Darcy’s carriage, which was waiting to transport the wedding party to Longbourn for a celebratory breakfast.

Just over three weeks had passed since her preposterous reunion with Darcy: a whirlwind of dressmakers, dinners, and wedding preparations. She could not spend as much time with him as she would have wished, but they enjoyed enough conversation to bespeak a glowing future, like touring a home by candlelight and glimpsing the comforts and glories morning would reveal. How could she enter into this new year with any but the highest expectations? Elizabeth tilted her head to meet his eyes trained on her.

“May I ask why you are smiling at me so broadly?” he said and smiled in response.

“Are you happy?”

“To the depths of my being.” He pressed her arm within his, but then his smile dimmed. “No, that is not entirely accurate. What I feel surpasses happiness—I know joy, Elizabeth.”

She searched his face and found the truth of his words written in each contour. Any confession seemed inadequate to what she felt, such a tumult of joy and love, hope and desire, and beneath that something stronger still, riven with the force of gratitude that went beyond themselves.

But she could not speak of that now and only said, “As do I.”

Several strides brought them to the carriage, revealing Jane and Bingley already installed on the rearward bench and too captivated by one another to heed their companions. Elizabeth gathered her skirts, preparing for Darcy to hand her in, but he bent his head beside hers.

“Oh, and Mrs. Darcy”—his low voice brushed across the bare skin above her collar, causing the fine hairs at her nape to rise and sending a shiver through her—“the bed is mine.”

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