Brotherly exchange, after chapter 7 –
Darcy and Phillip discuss Darcy's apology to Jane

This has made it to the extended version, 12/2024

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The sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows over the grounds of Netherfield. Darcy sat in the drawing room, staring pensively at the swirling amber in his glass of brandy. Phillip entered, his casual stride belying the sharp curiosity in his eyes.

"You look like a man who has just faced his executioner," Phillip quipped, pouring himself a glass of brandy before joining Darcy by the fireplace. "How did it go with Miss Bennet?"

Darcy sighed, leaning back into his chair. "Better than I deserved."

Phillip raised a brow, intrigued. "Do tell."

Darcy hesitated, swirling the liquid in his glass. "I owed her an apology. For Bingley. For my role in – no, my interference with their courtship."

Phillip's brows lifted in surprise. "You admitted to it?"

Darcy nodded. "I did. She deserved the truth, and I could not, in good conscience, withhold it any longer."

"And how did she take it?"

Darcy's lips twitched into a faint, wry smile. "With far more grace than I expected. She was hurt, of course. Who wouldn't be? But she bore it with a quiet strength that was…humbling."

Phillip leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Miss Bennet strikes me as the sort who would value honesty over pretence. Still, it could not have been easy for her to hear."

"It was not," Darcy admitted, his voice heavy. "But she forgave me, or so she said."

Phillip studied his cousin, his expression softening. "Grace, strength, and forgiveness? She sounds like a remarkable woman."

"She is," Darcy replied simply, his voice carrying an unusual note of reverence. "Her composure in the face of such a revelation was extraordinary. I expected anger, perhaps even disdain, but instead, she showed understanding."

Phillip leaned back, considering Darcy's words. "I must admit, you have surprised me, Darce. I didn't think you capable of such humility."

Darcy shot him a sidelong glance. "Do not mistake it for virtue. My actions were misguided, and the consequences hurt not only her but also my friend. I cannot undo what I've done, but I can try to be better."

Phillip smiled faintly, raising his glass in a mock toast. "To self-improvement, then. You've certainly set a high bar for the rest of us."

Darcy snorted softly but did not reply. After a moment, Phillip tilted his head, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "And? Did she say anything else of interest?"

Darcy hesitated, then admitted, "She spoke with clarity about her expectations in a partner. She wants a man who would fight for her, who would not yield at the first obstacle."

Phillip raised a brow, his interest piqued. "She said that, did she?"

Darcy nodded. "Yes. It was a quiet but firm declaration. She values respect and admiration as much as affection, perhaps even more."

Phillip's lips curved into a thoughtful smile. "Wise words. A woman who knows her worth and will not settle for less. Admirable."

Darcy studied his cousin's expression. "I thought you might think so."

Phillip leaned back, swirling his brandy. "I do. The more I hear of Miss Bennet, the more I see that she's no ordinary woman. Beneath her serene exterior lies a depth of character that many would overlook. Bingley was a fool not to see it."

Darcy inclined his head. "You're not wrong. She is all those things and more. I was blind to it myself."

"And now?" Phillip asked, his tone casual, though his curiosity was evident.

"Now, I see clearly. She is every bit as remarkable as her sister, though in her own way. Both Bennet sisters have qualities that command respect. She has figured me out, my intentions with coming here."

"Did she?" Phillip nodded slowly, his gaze distant. "She deserves a man who will see her, truly see her, and cherish her for who she is."

Darcy raised a brow, his tone turning lighter. "A man like you, perhaps?"

Phillip laughed, though the sound carried a touch of awkwardness. "Now, now, Darce. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I only meant she deserves better than what Bingley offered."

Darcy chuckled softly. "Of course."

The conversation shifted then, moving to the details of their plans at Netherfield, but Phillip's thoughts lingered on Jane. Her quiet dignity and strength, as described by Darcy, had left a mark on him. The image of her graceful demeanour and her kind smile from their recent interactions surfaced in his mind, and he found himself wondering when he might have the chance to speak with her again.

At the end of Chapter 21 - A Gentleman's Request

Darcy asks Mr Bennet's permission to court his daughter

The light of the setting sun spilt into the room, casting a warm golden glow over the bookshelves as Mr Bennet gestured for Mr Darcy to follow him into his sanctuary. The faint creak of the floorboards echoed softly as they stepped inside, the door closing behind them with a quiet click.

"Well, Mr Darcy," Mr Bennet began, settling himself into a comfortable chair and motioning for Darcy to take the one opposite, "Elizabeth tells me you have a question for me. Though knowing Lizzy, she has already decided the answer on your behalf."

Darcy smiled faintly, his hands resting on his knees as he leaned forward. "She has agreed to my making this request, sir, but I assure you, it is only with your consent that I proceed."

"Proceed with what, exactly?" Mr Bennet asked, feigning ignorance, though the sparkle in his eye betrayed his amusement.

Darcy's expression grew serious, his gaze meeting Mr Bennet's directly. "I wish to court Miss Elizabeth with the hope of one day asking for her hand in marriage."

The older man leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. "I have heard that you have asked her before. I must say I am quite impressed that you have come after her. Am I right in thinking that that is behind your enterprise?"

Sometime before the wedding – Darcy and Elizabeth are talking about their future

The warmth of Darcy's hand on hers anchored Elizabeth to the moment. They sat side by side in the drawing room at Longbourn, the rest of the household bustling with preparations for the upcoming wedding. A gentle breeze carried the scent of summer blooms through the open window, mingling with the faint hum of distant birdsong.

Elizabeth looked up at Darcy, her heart swelling with a mix of love and wonder. "Fitzwilliam," she began softly, her voice laced with a vulnerability that was rare for her, "do you ever wonder what our life together will look like?"

Darcy's lips curved into a tender smile. "I think of little else," he admitted, his voice a low murmur that seemed to wrap around her. "It is what sustains me – dreaming of the life we shall build together."

"Tell me." She urged, her gaze fixed on his. "What do you see for us?"

Darcy exhaled deeply, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles as he gathered his thoughts. "I see Pemberley," he began, his voice steady yet filled with quiet reverence. "I see you walking its halls, filling them with light and warmth. I see you in the gardens, coaxing the roses to bloom even more brightly as if they would strive to match your beauty. I see our children – perhaps a boy and a girl, or even more – laughing as they play by the stream."

Elizabeth's breath caught as she listened. The vision he painted was so vivid that she could almost feel the cool grass beneath her feet and hear the laughter of unseen children echoing in the distance.

"I see us sitting together in the evenings," Darcy continued, his eyes never leaving hers. "You, reading by the fire, with a look of concentration so fierce it will undoubtedly distract me from my own book. Me, unable to resist drawing closer to you, just to hear the sound of your voice when you share something that has captured your interest."

A laugh bubbled up from Elizabeth's throat, soft and warm. "You make it sound idyllic," she teased, though her heart swelled at the thought.

"It will not always be so," Darcy admitted, his tone growing serious. "There will be trials, no doubt. There will be moments when I may falter and times when the weight of responsibility feels heavy. But through it all, Elizabeth, I see you by my side. I see us standing together, weathering the storms, celebrating the triumphs."

Elizabeth reached out to cup his cheek, her touch feather-light yet grounding. "And I see myself growing with you," she said, her voice steady despite the emotion that threatened to overtake her. I see us challenging each other and learning from one another. I see us building something lasting, not just a home but a legacy of love, kindness, and compassion."

Darcy closed his eyes briefly as if to savour her words. When he opened them again, they were filled with a rare softness, a glimpse into the depths of his heart. "You are everything I did not know I needed," he whispered. "And with you, Elizabeth, I believe anything is possible."

Georgiana's Observations at the Wedding Breakfast

Setting: The grand wedding breakfast for Jane and Elizabeth at Netherfield, as Georgiana Darcy observes the lively scene.

Georgiana Darcy sat quietly at her corner of the long table, her delicate hands resting in her lap as she observed the joyous chaos around her. The air buzzed with laughter and conversation, the clinking of glasses and the rustle of fine fabrics as guests shifted in their seats.

Elizabeth and Jane shone brighter than the morning sun, their happiness radiating through the room like a tangible force. Georgiana's heart swelled with affection for them both – Jane, so serene and graceful, and Elizabeth, so vibrant and confident. They were everything she had ever admired in women and everything she had once feared she could never be.

Her brother sat beside Elizabeth; his normally composed features softened into an expression Georgiana barely recognised – pure, unguarded joy. Fitzwilliam had always been her rock, her protector, but she could see now that Elizabeth was his. The thought both comforted and unsettled her. She was no longer the most important woman in his life, but she also was not alone. Elizabeth had welcomed her with open arms, making her feel like part of their growing family.

Across the table, Phillip leaned close to Jane, whispering something that made her laugh – a soft, musical sound that seemed to quiet the room for a moment. Georgiana smiled. If she had ever doubted the depth of his affection, it was gone now. He looked at Jane as though she were the only woman in the world, and Georgiana could not help but wonder if she would ever know such a love.

Her gaze shifted to Kitty and Lydia, who were unabashedly enjoying the feast and flirting shamelessly with a pair of young officers seated nearby. Their carefree laughter reminded Georgiana of her own youthful innocence, though she hoped her new sisters would steer their paths more wisely.

Georgiana turned her attention back to the newlyweds and caught Elizabeth's eye. Elizabeth smiled at her, a smile so warm and genuine that it erased any lingering doubts from Georgiana's mind. Yes, she thought, she was truly lucky to have gained not one sister, but two.

Mr Bennet's Solitude After the Weddings 

The house was quiet – oppressively so. Mr Bennet sat alone in his library, a glass of port in hand and a book open before him, though the words blurred before his eyes. His mind was elsewhere, flitting between the day's events and the silence that now enveloped Longbourn.

His thoughts strayed – unbidden and unwelcome – to the inevitable. Jane and Elizabeth, newly married, were no doubt embarking on the intimacies of married life. The image threatened to form in his mind, and he recoiled, shaking his head as if to dislodge the thought. He took a long sip of port and muttered under his breath, "No, no, I shan't go there. Some things are best left unexamined."

Yet the recollection of his own wedding night surfaced, as much as he tried to resist it. He had not always been on the best of terms with his wife, it was true. But this side of their marriage had always been a haven for them both, a rare space of comfort and unity amidst their often-clashing personalities. A wistful smile flickered briefly on his face before it faded into the solemn reality of his daughters' absence.

Yet the recollection of his own wedding night surfaced, unbidden as it was. He chuckled dryly, though the sound was tinged with bitterness. "Lord help them if theirs was anything like mine," he muttered, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. He had not always been on the best of terms with his wife, it was true. But this side of their marriage had always been a haven for them both, a rare space of comfort and unity amidst their often-clashing personalities. A wistful smile flickered briefly on his face before it faded into the solemn reality of his daughters' absence.

He had always known this day would come. Daughters grew up, married, and moved on; it was the natural course of things. Yet, despite this certainty, the emptiness of the house bore down on him in a way he had not foreseen. The voices of his two eldest daughters – their laughter, their conversations – had been the thread that tied the unruly fabric of their household together. Without them, Longbourn felt barren.

He swirled the port in his glass, staring at its dark, opaque depths as if they might offer answers. The weight of the Earl's words during Darcy and Jane's betrothals lingered in his mind. "You are fortunate that gentlemen of such standing chose to overlook your daughters' small dowries." Fortunate. The word stung.

It was true, wasn't it? Fortune – chance – had smiled upon them. For all his intelligence, for all his sharp observations about the follies of the world, he had done nothing to secure his daughters' futures. He had scoffed at Mrs Bennet's urgency to marry them off and dismissed her fretful planning as foolishness. Yet, perhaps she had been wiser than he gave her credit for. Had it not been for Darcy's unyielding devotion to Elizabeth and Matlock's surprising interest in Jane, his daughters might well have faced an uncertain future – or worse, no future at all.

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze wandering to the bookshelves that had been his refuge for so many years. How many times had he retreated here, ignoring the world beyond these walls? How often had he indulged his comfort, choosing wit over responsibility? It was easy to blame fate for their precarious position, but the truth was far more damning. He had failed them. Even a modest sum, saved diligently over the years, might have improved their prospects, offered them security, or at least allowed them to choose their paths without such reliance on luck or the charity of others.

He thought of Jane's calm acceptance of her new role as a viscountess and Elizabeth's fiery resolve to manage Pemberley. They would both thrive, of that he had no doubt. But their successes would be theirs alone, unshaped by any effort of his.

A pang of regret shot through him. "What if they had not been so lucky?" he muttered aloud, the words harsh and heavy in the stillness.

His mind returned to Elizabeth's parting words, whispered just before she left: "You did the best you could, Papa." A bitter laugh escaped him. The best he could? No, he had done what was easy. That was not the same thing at all.

He raised his glass, not in celebration, but in a grim acknowledgement of his shortcomings. "To Jane and Elizabeth," he said softly, his voice tinged with both pride and sorrow. "May their futures be brighter than my past decisions deserve."

The Wedding Night - Darcy and Elizabeth

Setting: The bridal suite at Netherfield, later that evening.

The night had finally come, quiet and serene after the lively festivities of the day. Elizabeth stood alone in the bridal suite, her reflection in the mirror capturing her in soft candlelight. She wore a nightgown of fine muslin, the delicate fabric brushing her skin like a whisper. Her hair, usually left to its natural beauty, was still partly styled, small white flowers entwined in the remaining waves. The sight of herself felt surreal; she was no longer Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn. She was Mrs Darcy.

The door opened softly, and her gaze flicked toward it. Darcy entered, his presence commanding yet calming. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and though his attire remained impeccable, the absence of his coat and cravat gave him a more relaxed air. His eyes immediately found hers, and the tension in her chest eased at the warmth she saw there.

"You look like a vision," he murmured, his deep voice sending a shiver through her.

Elizabeth turned to face him, her heart pounding. "And you, Mr Darcy, are rather more at ease than I've ever seen you."

A playful smile tugged at his lips. "Perhaps because I am no longer in danger of losing you." He stepped closer, his movements deliberate, his gaze never leaving hers. "Elizabeth, I have longed for this moment, yet now that it is here, I find myself in awe of you once again."

She felt her cheeks flush under his intense gaze, but there was no room for shyness between them now. "You have a way of making me feel as though I am everything," she admitted softly.

"You are everything," he replied without hesitation.

Darcy reached out and gently took her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. Then, as if afraid she might pull away, he lifted her hand to his chest, holding it over his heart. "Feel this," he said, his voice low. Beneath her palm, the steady, strong beat of his heart seemed to echo her own. "This has beat for you from the moment I first really saw you."

Her eyes shimmered with tears, but she refused to let them fall. "And yet, how long it took me to see it."

"We found our way," Darcy said, his tone steady, reassuring. "That is all that matters."

He leaned down, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was tentative at first, as if he were testing the waters of this new intimacy. Elizabeth responded, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she gave herself over to the moment. The kiss deepened, his arms encircling her waist as he drew her closer. The world outside their embrace fell away, leaving only the warmth and softness of his touch, the steady rhythm of their breathing, and the electric connection that had been building between them for so long.

Darcy pulled back slightly, his lips hovering just over hers. "You are trembling," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Elizabeth smiled, her fingers brushing the edge of his jaw. "I suppose I am nervous," she confessed. "But not in the way you might think. I – I have only ever dreamed of this."

He rested his forehead against hers, his breath warm against her skin. "You need never fear me, Elizabeth. I shall treasure you. Always."

She closed her eyes, savouring the moment. "I know."

Darcy stepped back, just enough to guide her toward the edge of the bed. Sitting down, he drew her to stand between his knees, his hands resting lightly on her waist. "Do you trust me?" he asked.

"Completely," she whispered.

With the utmost care, he began to undo the ribbons of her gown, his fingers deft yet unhurried. Each movement was reverent, as though he were unwrapping a priceless treasure. Elizabeth's breath hitched as the fabric slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet. She stood before him, bare in every sense, yet she felt no shame. His gaze was one of wonder, not judgment, and the admiration in his eyes made her feel beautiful beyond measure.

Darcy rose, his hands skimming along her arms as he stepped closer. "You are breathtaking," he said, his voice rough with emotion.

Elizabeth raised her hands to his shirt, unfastening the buttons one by one. Her hands were steady now, her earlier nervousness replaced by a growing confidence as she revealed the strong planes of his chest. When his shirt joined her gown on the floor, she took a moment to study him, her fingers tracing the lines of his shoulders and collarbone.

"You are, too," she said simply.

He smiled, a rare, uninhibited expression that made her heart soar. "Come," he said, taking her hand. He led her to the bed, where they lay side by side, facing each other. He covered them with the bedsheet. The flickering candlelight cast golden hues over their entwined forms, and the world outside seemed to disappear entirely.

For a long while, they simply talked, sharing thoughts and dreams that had never been spoken aloud. Elizabeth marvelled at how easily she could confide in him, and Darcy listened with a tenderness that made her love him all the more.

When they came together at last, it was with a gentle passion that spoke of trust, love, and a bond that was unbreakable. Darcy's touch was both firm and tender, guiding her through each new sensation with care and reverence. Elizabeth, in turn, met him with equal fervour, her fears forgotten in the safety of his arms.

As they lay entwined afterwards, Elizabeth rested her head against Darcy's chest, the steady beat of his heart lulling her into a sense of perfect contentment. "I am yours," she whispered, her voice soft but resolute. "In every way."

"And I am yours," he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Always."

The candlelight dimmed as the night deepened, but within the bridal suite, a new chapter of their love story had just begun.

Picnic at Pemberly - several years in the future 

The verdant grounds of Pemberley were alive with the hum of activity. Children's laughter rang out, mingling with the chatter of adults and the sweet melodies drifting from the nearby pianoforte. It was a day of ease and joy, one that Darcy had insisted upon as a respite from the usual routines of estate management.

Elizabeth Darcy sat comfortably on a soft blanket beneath the shade of a towering oak, her infant son, Henry, nestled against her chest, cooing softly. Her daughter Emma, now a determined three-year-old with curls as unruly as her spirit, sprinted towards Darcy, her tiny feet bare and dusted with grass.

"Papa, look what I found!" she announced, holding up a daisy with a crumpled stem and a beetle clinging to one petal.

Darcy, who had been in the midst of a conversation with Richard and Georgiana's husband, Lord Henry Redmond, turned with a raised brow. "Emma, where are your shoes?"

She shrugged, unbothered. "Over there somewhere," she replied vaguely, pointing in the general direction of the lake.

"Of course they are," Darcy muttered, crouching to take the flower and discreetly flick the beetle away. "And where is 'over there somewhere,' precisely?"

Emma pointed again, this time toward a completely different direction.

Elizabeth chuckled from her spot under the tree. "She is your daughter, Fitzwilliam."

"She is our daughter," he corrected, his lips twitching with amusement as Emma grinned triumphantly and ran off to join her cousins.

Nearby, Jane's daughter, Margaret, and Darcy's son, Bennet, were attempting to climb the lower branches of another oak tree under Phillip's supervision – or rather, his pretend supervision as he watched them with mock seriousness while sneaking bites of an apple tart.

"Careful there, Margie! Don't climb so high that I can't reach you!" Phillip called, earning a giggle from his daughter.

"Uncle Phillip," Bennet countered, "I'm higher than Margaret already!"

"Are you?" Phillip teased, setting his tart aside and flexing his arms dramatically. "Well then, I suppose I'll just have to climb up and rescue both of you, won't I?"

Jane, sitting nearby with baby Edward in her lap, shook her head fondly. "I do believe he enjoys this more than they do," she remarked to Georgiana, who was reclined on a cushioned chair under a parasol, her hand resting on her gently rounded stomach.

"I think you're right," Georgiana replied, her smile soft. "But it's lovely to see everyone so happy."

Her husband, Lord Redmond, leaned down to kiss her cheek. "And you, my love, are the loveliest of all." His voice was warm, his admiration plain.

Georgiana blushed, swatting at him playfully. "Flatterer."

"Only for you," he replied with a wink before joining Darcy and Richard by the refreshments table.

Richard, now married to Lady Cecilia Crawford, had brought his wife along for the day. She was seated with Mary and Kitty, both of whom were happily engaged with some of the tenants' children, showing them how to make flower crowns.

"So, Richard," Darcy said, pouring a glass of wine for his cousin, "are you finding married life to your liking?"

Richard smirked, glancing over at Cecilia, who was laughing at something Mary had said. "I'll admit, I never thought I'd enjoy it this much. She's far too good for me, but I'm not about to let her figure that out."

Darcy chuckled. "Wise of you."

"And you?" Richard countered. "How is life as a father of three?"

Darcy's gaze softened as he watched Emma plop herself into Elizabeth's lap, her tiny hands reaching for her baby brother's chubby fingers. "It's...surprising, exhausting, and utterly wonderful."

"Spoken like a man smitten," Redmond teased, clapping him on the back.

"And you?" Darcy asked, raising a brow at Georgiana's husband. "Ready to step up to the challenges of fatherhood?"

Redmond grinned. "I suspect it will be the greatest adventure yet. I cannot wait."

Meanwhile, Mrs Bennet sat on a plush chair brought out for her comfort, fluttering her fan and calling out advice to no one in particular. "Lizzy, dear, do make sure Emma doesn't ruin her dress! And Jane, keep an eye on George! He's climbing too high!" or "Bennet, take a glass of water to your grandfather, I do not want him to get ill in this heat." Mr Bennet was, of course, reading under the shade.

Elizabeth and Jane exchanged a glance, their smiles mirroring each other.

"Mother has not changed," Elizabeth observed.

"Nor should she," Jane replied. "Her joy is as infectious as ever."

As the afternoon waned, the family gathered for a meal spread out on long tables beneath the trees. Georgiana was fussed over by her brothers and husband alike, all insisting she take the most comfortable chair and rest her feet. Darcy kept a watchful eye on Elizabeth, ensuring her plate was filled and her wine glass replenished.

Phillip entertained the children with stories of knights and dragons, while Richard added embellishments that made them laugh so hard, they nearly spilt their lemonade.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of amber and rose, the family was comfortably sprawled across the lawn. Darcy sat with Elizabeth leaning against him, her hand resting lightly on his knee as they watched George and Margaret chase fireflies with Emma toddling behind them.

Georgiana, feeling a kick from her unborn child, smiled softly. "Do you think they'll all grow up as close as we are?" she asked her husband.

Redmond placed a hand over hers, his voice full of quiet certainty. "If they're anything like their parents, I have no doubt."

Darcy turned to Elizabeth, his expression thoughtful. "What do you think, my love?"

Elizabeth tilted her head, her eyes twinkling. "I think, Fitzwilliam, that our children will forge their own paths. But they'll always have us – and each other."

Darcy kissed her temple, his voice a low murmur. "That is all I could hope for."

And as the stars emerged, the family remained together, their laughter and love echoing into the night, a testament to the bonds they had built and the legacy they were creating.