AN: So here we are at the end, a bit faster I think than some readers were hoping for based on the comments.

Before you read this, I'd like to make a request to all of you who enjoyed this book (also to those of you who did not like the book, yet were unable to stop reading for some reason - sorry, I've been there. And it happens, even with good books, some people dislike them). There are billions of people who are desperately poor and who we can help. Part of the reason I write is so that I can ask people to donate to Doctors Without Borders or a similar organization. So please, if you enjoyed my book, take a minute to think about if you can give some conveniently small fraction of your income each month to literally stop people from dying.

Also, on a much more personal note, I'm going to be in the London from Sept 5 to 22, and so if there are any locals reading this who might like to meet the author send me a message.

One perfect autumn afternoon at Pemberley, some twenty-five years after his marriage, Fitzwilliam Darcy finished his business for the day and immediately walked out onto the grounds in the direction the gardener thought Lizzy had gone off in.

He was now past fifty, and his hair had turned a distinguished silver that drove Elizabeth wild. She had always loved to play with his hair, and she thought the look of the stately gentleman sat exceedingly well on him. Like his uncle, Darcy had allowed none of his lean figure to fade, and he was still in perfect health.

The trail went along the river, and there were a gorgeous variety of plants growing up everywhere, and Darcy smelled the familiar scents of autumn. The leaves had turned yellow, and the trees were half bare. It was a warm day for this time of year. He slowed down to enjoy the afternoon warmth, and the sound of the stream burbling, and most of all the anticipation of seeing Elizabeth again.

Most of his family had done very well. Lord Matlock was still healthy and active, though he was past eighty. Georgiana had not married until she was six and twenty, and her match had been to an exiled French count who was known for spending most of his time conducting chemistry experiments. They were quite happy, and Darcy was simply pleased that his sister had at last decided to marry.

Matlock's prediction that the scandal would be forgotten proved true, and for many years now both Elizabeth and her sister Jane were fully accepted by most in society, though Elizabeth preferred to spend more time in the country than London.

Lydia had a large brood of children, all sons. The youngest wished to take up his father's profession, but the rest had used the opportunity that Darcy and Bingley's patronage provided to let them settle themselves into more respectable and profitable lines of business. They were all excellent young men, and their masters and employers spoke highly of them.

Darcy thought Elizabeth had probably sat down amongst a set of benches with a view that opened out onto a flowered meadow and a prospect of the house. The stream burbled right past it, and Elizabeth had adored that spot since she first saw it as a blushing bride. There was a little gazebo that had been put there so they could sit there sheltered and watch when it rained.

He had told Lizzy that business would not keep him late today, so she would be somewhere he could find easily.

They had only had two children, and both were away now. Their daughter Jane was the older child. She had married an excellent young man whose estate was only twenty miles from Pemberley a few years before. Darcy and Elizabeth already had two grandchildren, and a third was on the way. The children were still tiny, and they were completely adorable. Every month, except when the roads were dangerously icy during the deeper winters, Darcy and Elizabeth went to stay with their daughter for a few days so they could play with the children.

Charles was now in his second year at Cambridge, and he constantly got into harmless scrapes with his cousin and closest friend, Bingley's oldest son.

Since both of his children were healthy and happy, Darcy was not at all displeased that Elizabeth had not had more children. While both her pregnancies had been easy, the periods of labor were the most terrifying days of his life, and for weeks following each birth memories of his mother's death haunted him. When Elizabeth had said something about that to Georgiana, Darcy's sister had suggested they use French practices to reduce the chances of conception.

Lizzy sometimes missed the children greatly. Darcy did too. But it was wonderful for it to be just the two of them again.

She sat where he had expected, and a book sat on the bench next to her. Elizabeth had her eyes closed and her face was screwed up into look of concentration. Since she gave no sign of hearing his approach, Darcy sat as quietly as he could on a bench across from her.

Her facial expressions had always fascinated him. Elizabeth was no longer a young woman, but she was still startlingly beautiful. At least to him. She had a thoughtful frown and her bottom lip was drawn between her teeth. While not quite as loose as the dresses of their youth, Elizabeth's blue silk gown was free flowing and the line of her knee was visible.

He watched as little smiles came over her face, and then her cheeks softened into a perfect sweet look. It made his heart catch.

He wondered what she was thinking of. These unguarded moments were his delight. She would often sit in his study reading, and he would stop writing his correspondence, and just stare at the way she bit at her fingers, or frowned in concentration, or how if it was a particularly good novel, little tears might gather at the edge of her eyes. She would catch him staring, and laugh at him, and tell him to do his work. And then they would kiss, and he would not do any work at all.

The skin of her face was still mostly smooth, though time had removed the youthful glow like dew. There were little wrinkles about the eyes which came from her constant laughter and smiling. It made her more beautiful. Half his life had been spent laughing with her. He felt such tenderness in his every nerve for her.

She smiled again, and her face went pink, and her lips pouted out and she breathed a little heavily. Darcy shifted to look at her a little more closely, and some noise he made broke the spell.

Elizabeth gasped, her eyes opening wide, and then laughed. "How long were you watching me?"

"I have watched you forever; you know that your face is always the sole sight before my eyes."

"Oh? How did you manage to walk from the house without tripping?"

She jumped up and as soon as she reached his bench she nestled in his lap, rubbing her bottom against him, and kissed him soundly.

He kissed her back eagerly. There was a small temptation to drag her off and have his way with her in the bushes, as they had done a few times, but while once had been a fun experience, he did not enjoy such exhibitionism.

At last they stood to take a walk together, and Darcy asked, "What were you thinking of?"

"You. Though I am capable of seeing other things. How do you walk if I am the only image you see?"

"I follow where you point me." Darcy rolled his eyes at her and said in a droll tone, "Obviously."

"Obviously." Elizabeth giggled.

Extravagant romantic flirts were an old joke of theirs, and Darcy occasionally spent a half hour while waiting for a hunt to start thinking up absurd things he could say to make Elizabeth laugh. He sometimes tried to give them as studied an air as possible.

"Your face was rather pink, just what were you thinking about?"

Elizabeth opened her mouth, and then closed it and bit her lip. She then took his hand and squeezed it. "I sometimes fear that I am so full of being happy that I forget how very lucky I am. I was trying to recall those months when I first met you. Do you recall how I used to imagine things being the way I wished them to be?"

"I could never forget. It was how I first saw you. It was when I fell in love with the play of expression over your vibrant face. You are much prettier today though." Elizabeth pushed him. "You were pretty then. You certainly caught my eye, so it is no insult."

"I will confess I have aged very handsomely," Elizabeth said with a pretty laugh.

Darcy took her hand and kissed it. "There is no way you could have been as pretty then as you are today. I did not know you yet, and I had not shared so much with you. No girl of twenty, even if she was you, could be so…" Darcy choked up suddenly. "No girl could be so beautiful to me as the mother of my children, as the companion of my life, as the woman I have laughed with for so long. In another twenty-five years, when I am as old as Uncle Matlock, and you are seventy, I shall find you yet more beautiful, for our shared bond of time spent together shall be even thicker."

"Oh." Little tears of happiness sprouted in her eyes, and Elizabeth kissed him. "You so often say such absurd things, and then you manage something like that."

Smiling himself with emotion, he kissed her and hugged her and whispered, "I will always love you."

It was a perfect moment. The yellow light of the sun bathed them, a warm breeze blew over their skin, and Elizabeth's familiar perfume filled his nostrils.

"This is why it would be so ridiculous if I did that today," she said when they began to walk along the path again.

Darcy blinked, but then recalled what they had been talking about before. "I could not imagine being happier than I am now either."

Elizabeth nodded. "Our life has been so perfect. If I ever need to feel happier, I would just think about you, and about the children, and the grandchildren, and…you."

"That, however, does not explain why you were blushing."

"I said, I was remembering."

"And what memory were you drawing upon?"

"Our wedding night."

"I was a randy young buck, wasn't I? No finesse or style. I bet I could give you a far better memory now."

Elizabeth laughed, "I don't think it will ever have the same meaning as the first time, but I confess you have improved."

"Only because you have become prettier."

Elizabeth blushed and kissed him again. Then she critically looked at him. "You've never put on any weight — which I thank you for."

Darcy understood where her mind was going. "And your dress size is almost the same."

"Only very slight alterations will be needed. Ruth can have them done in twenty minutes."

"Do you want to have John dress up as a vicar to marry us, or should we just go straight to matters?" Darcy waggled his eyebrows in a manner that suggested going straight to matters was his preference.

"I think we can manage without having your valet impersonate a clergyman. The wedding ceremony was not the best part of the day in any case. But do you recall what we ate for dinner that night? We could have it served again."

"And we shall need to get a quartet together to play for us so we can dance. This time Richard will not be there to keep me from dancing the night entire with you."

"I thought you wished to go straight to matters."

"Maybe we'll just dance half the night."

Arm in arm they walked back to Pemberley to make a new memory.