“Eliza…”

She saw the pain registering in Darcy’s face as the carriage moved out of the trees and into the light of the rising moon.

“Please,” she said gently, “let me finish.”

Darcy fell silent and they moved along through a rolling meadow filled with glimmering fireflies.

“Over the past two days I have gradually come to realize a very real truth about you. Sometimes it takes an outsider to see what you cannot see yourself.”

He turned his head toward her, his expression grim. “And what is the truth about me, Eliza?”

“Even if there were no letters,” she told him, “there would be no doubt in my mind that the story you told me actually happened.” She paused, watching his brow furrow in confusion. “And there should be no doubt in your mind as to how Jane Austen regarded you after you were gone,” she concluded.

“I don’t understand,” he murmured.

Eliza smiled. “Do not you, sir?” she asked, playfully mimicking the formal aristocratic language of Jane Austen’s Regency period. “Fitz, you are the essence of Jane Austen’s Mr. Darcy in every way. She wrote—or perhaps rewrote—Pride and Prejudice to make that character you. And in doing that she created the most romantic character in English literature—only you were real, and she made you real to anyone who’s ever read the book.”

Darcy fell back against his seat, speechless.

“Now,” said Eliza, “for my decision.”

“Your decision?” he breathed. “Didn’t you just tell me that it was your decision to keep the letters?”

“No, Fitz,” Eliza said, reaching into the silk bag she was carrying and removing the sealed letter from Jane Austen. “I only expressed the opinion that you didn’t need this,” displaying the unopened document, “to confirm anything.”

Smiling, she pressed the unopened letter into his hand. “But this is your letter. Jane wrote it to you, and whether it ever becomes public should be your decision alone, not mine.”

“Eliza, I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything,” she said with a smile. Eliza looked around, suddenly aware that the carriage had come to a halt at the far end of the moonlit lake. Lucas was standing up front with the horses, lighting his pipe and gazing off into the distance.

She looked up at the huge, glowing orb of the moon. “I think it’s bright enough out here and you’ve waited a long time, read it… now.”

Darcy looked up, as if noticing the moon for the first time. “Yes,” he said, “I believe it is light enough to read by. And I would like to read the letter now.”

He stepped out of the carriage. Then he reached in and took her hand. “We’ll read it together,” he said. “It belongs to both of us.”

Moments later, standing at a spot where a glittering path of moonlight across the water touched the shore, Darcy held up the letter and looked at Eliza. “You’re sure you want me to do this?” he asked.

She nodded and he broke the wax seal with a small snap, then unfolded the yellowing paper and began to silently read.

Something fell to the ground at Eliza’s feet and lay sparkling in the moonlight. Gathering up the folds of her gown, Eliza bent to retrieve the shiny object.

And then she began to laugh. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I decided not to let Sotheby’s auction off this letter after all,” she said, holding up Darcy’s high-tech plastic business card.

Darcy stared at the holographic Darcy crest gleaming on the surface of the card, and then he, too, began to laugh. The sound of their voices melded, echoing merrily across the lake.

After a moment, Eliza grew serious again. Her mouth had suddenly gone dry and she felt the blood pounding in her temples as she lightly touched the fold of vellum in his hand. “What did Jane say, Fitz?”

“This letter was also written on the day I left,” he replied. Holding it up in the moonlight, he began to read aloud.


12 May, 1810

My Dearest Darcy,

Though you agreed that I should wait with you tonight, your expression told me you feared I might be breaking my heart for a love that can never be…


Darcy’s voice broke and he paused to clear his throat. He began again, his voice stronger now.


Oh how wrong you are to think like that. Do you not know that I of all women would gladly trade a single moment of love for a lifetime of wondering what such a moment might have been?

And though you have concerned yourself with my heart, let me now concern myself with yours. For somewhere in that faraway world of yours, I know there awaits your one true love. Find her, dearest! Find her whatever else you may do…


Darcy paused.

“Is that the end?” Eliza asked.

Darcy slowly shook his head. “No, she wrote one more thing,” he said.


And when she is found, you must tell her she is your dearest and loveliest desire. Be happy, my love.

Yours forever,

Jane


Eliza watched in stunned silence as Darcy carefully refolded the letter and slipped it into his coat pocket. Then he looked down at her and moved closer.

An eternity passed there in the moonlight as she waited for him to speak.

At length Darcy smiled and there were tears in his eyes as he lowered his face to hers and whispered, “Dearest, loveliest Eliza…”

Eliza smiled and closed her eyes, wondering if this was all just a marvelous dream.