An (Un)believably Artful Theft (Love’s Little Helpers #4)

Epilogue

ONE MONTH LATER…

Darcy walked-ran-slipped the short distance from Pemberley’s great house to the hunting tower, his feet crunching in the fresh snow. The tower had windows all around, which was the main reason Elizabeth had chosen it for her art studio, but it was cramped. And at four hundred feet away from the house, the distance was too far for Darcy’s taste.

Stomping his feet at the entrance, he ascended the stairs two at a time until he saw her standing in front of a canvas, her back to the door. He stood there for a minute, watching her paint his aunt’s portrait and trying in vain to catch his breath.

“I feel you, Fitzwilliam,” she said. “Please come inside out of the cold. ”

“My apologies for the interruption?—”

She shushed him with a smile and the press of her finger against his lips. “You know the rule, my love: family first.”

Darcy loved her rule. He loved everything about his wife. “I have something for you.”

She set down her brush. “A kiss?”

“Always.” That was another characteristic he loved about Elizabeth. She took delight in the simplest things, turning every kiss into a gift with the same passion with which she lived her life. He brushed his lips over hers and then pulled away before he forgot why he had interrupted her work. There would be time for many more kisses later. “First, I have to show you something in my study.”

They walked arm-in-arm down the hill and up the stairs, past the art gallery where the Rembrandt once again hung. Mr. Bennet had sold it to Darcy for fifty pounds―the same price he had paid at the marché ouvert ―and the promise that he was welcome to study it and the other masterpieces decorating Pemberley’s walls whenever he wished. It was an arrangement to which both sides easily agreed.

Not so his other arrangement with Mr. Bennet, who considered that Darcy was benefiting disproportionately from their families’ unions. He was not wrong. Until today, Darcy had not been completely certain Mr. Bennet would yield.

Darcy opened the door to his study, and there she was, centered on the wall behind his desk, wearing a gown that matched the peacock blue color she presently wore.

“My father’s first painting!” Elizabeth gasped. She rushed to stand in front of it, her fingers stretching out to touch it but stopping just short.

It was not as stunning as the woman herself, but Darcy’s heart swelled when he looked at the portrait of Elizabeth. Mr. Bennet was a master. His skill would be highly sought after and handsomely recompensed by the best families.

“How ever did you convince him to part with it?”

Darcy told her the only part that mattered. “He knew it would make you happy.”

She twirled around to face him, tears spilling over her fingers. “Is it possible to be happier than I am right now? I fear I shall burst with joy!”

Darcy felt his lips lift on one side. “You thought this was your gift? No, my love, that is mine. Your gift is this way…” He held out his arm, and he led her up the stairs at the end of the hall. Up they climbed until they reached the rooftop.

He held the door open for her, all his efforts rewarded when she squealed and jumped into his arms.

“It is perfect!” she said between kisses.

He laughed. “You have not seen what is inside yet!”

She tugged him along, not that she needed to. He would follow her anywhere.

Since their betrothal, he had arranged for an edifice made up mostly of windows to be built on the top corner of Pemberley’s roof closest to his study. With Mr. Bennet’s assistance, Darcy had placed an order for every easel, paint powder, brush, and utensil at Ackermann’s.

“I could set up my own shop with all of this!” Elizabeth spun in the center of her room. “And the lighting is perfect! Not to mention the view!”

“Do you have everything you need?”

“And more! I lack for nothing, only time enough to paint the commissions I have already accepted.”

Darcy went serious. “Promise you will only paint that which increases your joy.”

She smiled at him and held out her hand. “Now it is your turn. Come with me.”

His feet did not move quickly enough. He was too surprised. “I did not expect anything.”

She laughed. “That makes two of us! I did not expect to be regaled with gifts, but it is a good day for it!”

He followed her to her bedchamber, then over to her changing room, where a frame was hidden behind a robe. Pulling off the robe, she turned the frame around for him to see. “This is my first portrait. It is almost complete.”

From Darcy’s point of view, there was nothing more to be done. She had captured the way he felt when he looked at her, and it made his pulse race and his heart swell again in response. “It is perfect.”

“There is only one thing missing.”

Darcy looked closer. At the bottom right, there was no signature .

Elizabeth noticed when he saw it. “I signed your sketch as Elizabeth Bennet. Now, I want you to be the first recipient of an original Elizabeth Darcy.”

From where she had hidden the painting, she produced a thin brush and paint. Carefully, she signed her name at the bottom. Elizabeth Darcy.

In the next instant, she was in his arms. “Where will you place your portrait?”

“There is only one place for it.”

She looked up at him and waited.

“At your side, in my study.”

“Hmm,” she hummed. “Great answer.”

He tilted up her chin. “That is how it is with you and me, Elizabeth. We stand together, side by side.”

“Family first?”

“And always.” Darcy sealed his promise with a kiss.

Are you curious to know if Colonel Fitzwilliam ever meets a lady as constant as his beloved Connie?