by Beau North
She blushed and gave him a knowing look as he made his way back to Mr. Bennet’s office.
“Where will you honeymoon Lizzie?” Kitty asked. Elizabeth groaned, burying her hands in her face.
“Kitty,” Mary warned.
“I suppose you could afford to go anywhere,” Kitty said, continuing as if she hadn’t heard. “You don’t have to go to Niagara Falls. You could go to Acapulco or even Rio! If he leaves it up to you, you’ll be going to some dreary castle where some monk wrote a dreary book about gardening or some such.”
Mary chuckled despite herself.
“Elizabeth!” Mr. Bennet thundered from the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. All three girls jumped. Elizabeth quailed at his expression. He hadn’t looked at her like that since she was nine, when she’d hit Old Mr. Peterson’s dog (a great and terrible killer of chickens) with her slingshot.
“Papa! Is everything all right?”
Just over her father’s shoulder, she could see Darcy’s broad frame in the doorway. He gave her his own smile, the small, secret one she loved so much. It comforted her and allowed her to gather her courage.
“My office, young lady,” Mr. Bennet barked before turning and walking away without another word. Elizabeth got up to follow, brushing past Darcy in the hallway. He put a hand on her arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“He’s just trying to scare you,” he whispered. “Everything is fine.”
She smiled happily and, having nothing more to fear from her younger sisters’ prying eyes, stood on tiptoe to give him a brief, heartfelt kiss before leaving to join her father.
***
Mr. Bennet stared across the desk at his daughter, silently enjoying her discomfort.
“So, young lady, Jane gets married and now you want to jump on the bandwagon as well?”
“Papa…”
“I have to admit I’m not surprised that he asked you; he was gracious enough to inform me of his intentions the other day.” Mr. Bennet couldn’t help the bitter edge in voice. “And I suppose I shouldn’t be so surprised that you accepted after that tender scene I interrupted in this very room.”
“Papa, please.” Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
“I’m only concerned, Lizzie. I know he’s rich…he’s maybe not the best-looking fella, but he cleans up well enough, I suppose. But what have I always tried to teach you?”
“Money spends, beauty fades. Marry in haste, repent at leisure. A penny saved is a penny earned. Soonest begun, soonest done…”
“All right, all right. Curb your sassy tongue.”
They regarded each other in careful silence for what felt like several minutes before she gathered her nerves enough to speak.
“Papa, you know I couldn’t care less about money. I love Will. I would love him if he didn’t have two pennies to rub together. I don’t love him for what he has. I love him for who he is. And because of that, he could never be anything but lovely to me.”
Her father gave her a measuring stare. She returned it, letting her eyes show the truth of her words. At length, Mr. Bennet sighed.
“How long have you felt this way, Lizzie?”
“Long enough, Papa.”
“All right then, young lady. You’re old enough not to need it, but you have my blessing either way, though I think I liked the cousin a little better. A good looking fella like that one would have kept you on your toes at least.”
Elizabeth’s mouth fell open. “What?”
Mr. Bennet smirked at his beloved daughter. “Give your old man credit for having a pair of eyes in his head.”
“Please, don’t ever repeat that!” she begged. “Especially in front of Will. It’s too…awkward!”
Mr. Bennet chuckled. “I’d imagine so. Don’t worry, Lizzie. I’m sure I’ll like my future son-in-law well enough.”
“Don’t tease,” she said, getting up to embrace her father and feeling like a little girl again.
He patted her back affectionately. “My little June-Bug. I never thought anyone would ever be good enough for you.”
“And now?” Elizabeth asked, blinking back tears at his words.
“Now, we’ll just have to see.”
***
Georgiana’s feelings on her brother’s news were surprisingly mixed. She’d seen him leaving for Longbourn that morning, “on business” he told her, returning a few hours later with a beaming Elizabeth at his side. While Georgiana liked Elizabeth enormously, she felt a sudden sadness that everything she knew was about to change. It had always been the two of them, sometimes with Richard, and they had been all the family that was needed.
She knew it was silly of her to think so, but she did wonder whether her brother would love her less when so much of his love was going to his new bride. Looking at him now, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Will as happy—as complete—as he looked now. It softened her uneasiness some, and she managed to meet them with as pleasant a face as she could muster.
“Georgie, we have some news,” Darcy said with none of his usual gravity.
“You’re engaged?” Georgiana guessed, offering them a smile.
“I see there’s no fooling you,” Darcy said with a chuckle.
“Thank you for choosing so well, William. I take back everything I’ve ever said about your poor taste.”
“Thank you for that.” He laughed, kissing the top of her head.
“Will you mind having another sister, Elizabeth?” Georgiana asked.
“Not at all, Georgie.” Elizabeth grinned. “I’ll just throw you on the pile with the others.”
Georgiana laughed at this and allowed Elizabeth to pull her into a warm hug. Despite her misgivings, she smiled. Hugs were not a staple in the Darcy home, and she was beginning to think she’d been missing out.
“And the other thing we discussed?” Elizabeth asked Darcy. He nodded. It had taken some convincing on her part, but when he looked at her now with her arm around his sister, he found himself so full of love there was nothing he would not do for her.
“I’m leaving before lunch,” he said, reassuring her. “It won’t be easy.”
“If you’re looking for easy, you may have picked the wrong girl.” Elizabeth gave him a devilish grin. “I’m going to spend the rest of our lives giving you no end of hell.”
Shocked, Georgiana looked from Elizabeth to her brother. Contrary to what she expected, a happy smile spread across his face.
“You’d better.”
***
Charlotte pulled her coat closer around her as she followed Elizabeth over fences and through fields. The coat was ivory wool and had belonged to Jane, and Charlotte knew it never would have fit her if it hadn’t been for her recent hunger strike. Jane had given it to her, saying it brought out the blue in Charlotte’s eyes. She’d never really thought about herself in terms of her own looks; it had been unnecessary growing up next to the Bennet girls.
Elizabeth had taken the time to arrange Charlotte’s hair for her that morning. “For no particular reason,” she insisted. Charlotte’s wheat-colored hair was pulled into an intricate braid that circled her head like a crown. The wind pulled little feathery strands loose, whipping them in her eyes. The winter woods afforded little protection from the gusts as a cold front had moved through the night before. It was unusual weather for the time of year but not unheard of. The day was a dreary one, grey and damp. The skeletal trees seemed to claw at the colorless sky. Charlotte found it reflected her mood. She was safe, and she was loved, but she felt that a piece of her was missing. She carried on, worrying at the edges of that absence while being unable to repair it.
“What are we doing out here, Lizzie?” They were halfway to Netherfield already.
“We’re meeting someone,” Elizabeth said vaguely as they came into a clearing. Charlotte startled to see Darcy’s Jaguar parked alongside an empty field. Darcy sat casually against the side of the car, reading the paper as if he were sitting at the breakfast
table. He caught sight of them on the other side of the field and bent to speak to someone inside the car.
Charlotte was about to ask what was going on when the car door opened and Anne emerged. She was bundled in a bulky coat of her own, her hair tucked into a hat, but Charlotte would have known her anywhere. She could have found that face in a crowd of a thousand. She sprang forward, her legs taking on a life of their own. They were trying to keep up with the pounding of her heart as she sprinted towards Anne. It barely registered that Anne was running towards her too; she only knew that she was there, and Charlotte would never let her go again.
The two women met halfway, colliding in a tangle of arms and mouths and tears.
“Oh, Ducks,” Anne cried. She couldn’t touch Charlotte enough. “I almost didn’t recognize you with your hair done up.”
“Annie.” Charlotte choked. “Annie, darling.”
Elizabeth made her way over to Darcy, the emotion on her face softening him. He had many misgivings about this course of action, but he had promised to deny her nothing. He expected a fight from his aunt when he showed up at Rosings, but Catherine had been surprisingly passive. It seemed Anne had been faring no better than Charlotte. Elizabeth took his hand and led him away, letting the women reunite in private.
“You were right,” he said when they found themselves well out of sight and hearing, tucked into the nearest tangle of woods. “They belong together.”
“You’ll find I usually am,” she said, wiping her tears away. He took her face in his hands and kissed her cheeks, still salty. Her hands reached into his coat, deftly unbuckling his belt.
“Here?”
“Here,” she said. “I find myself very moved by you right now.”
His heart jumped to his throat. “How moved?”
She took his hand and guided it under her skirt. “See for yourself.”
***
The cold wind shook and rattled the tree branches over their heads. Dry, brown leaves rained down on them as they lay together on the ground, drowsing.
Darcy didn’t feel the hard ground under his back or the chilly air. All he was aware of was Elizabeth, tucked under his arm with her head on his chest.
“It’s never been like this before,” he said sleepily, winding his fingers through her curls. He meant it. He had never given himself over to his desires as completely as he did with her. It was exhilarating and joyful—and more than a little scary.
“I think that’s the point,” she said, her arm tightening around him once before she sat up, collecting herself.
“Elizabeth,” he said cautiously as he buttoned his trousers, “did you have a date in mind for the wedding?”
She seemed surprised by this question but said, “Oh I don’t know. Maybe sometime in the spring?”
“The spring! The spring? You’d do that to me, wouldn’t you! You spiteful little madman!”
Her eyebrows rose at his tirade. “You had some other date in mind?”
“Yes, tomorrow!” She almost smiled until she realized he wasn’t joking.
“You’re serious!”
“I never joke about matrimony. Just ask all my other wives. What do you say, Lizzie?”
“Well…” She tilted her head and considered him. “Maybe not tomorrow, but… At the rate we’re going, I’m not sure we can afford a long engagement.”
He circled her with his arms, kissing the tip of her nose.
“You know Jane and Charles will never forgive us,” she said.
“Somehow, I think we’re the last things on their mind right now.”
“You may be right,” she said, laughing.
He took her hand and led her back to the car. Charlotte and Anne sat on the ground, their backs propped against the side of the Jaguar. Elizabeth thought it likely the women hadn’t even noticed their prolonged absence.
Charlotte caught sight of Elizabeth and stood, rushing over to embrace her friend.
“I know this was your doing,” she whispered. “Thank you, Lizzie. You can’t know what this means.”
“Of course I know,” Elizabeth said, smiling happily at Anne over Charlotte’s shoulder.
“The only thing is,” Charlotte said, letting go of Elizabeth, “what do we do now?”
Elizabeth looked at Darcy, one eyebrow arching. “You didn’t tell her?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, handing them over to Anne.
“I spoke to Richard,” he said. “There is plenty of room for everyone at the Fitzwilliam townhouse.”
Anne closed her hand around the keys. “New York? But—”
“Anne,” he said, putting a hand on either shoulder. “You’re a Fitzwilliam. Part of the house is yours by right. And we’d all feel a little better knowing Richard is there in case of…well, anything.”
“In case my husband finds us,” Charlotte said, looking at the ground. Leland Collins had all but disappeared since he’d been driven out of Longbourn.
Darcy handed Anne an envelope. “This releases your trust fund. You only need to sign it.”
Anne looked stunned. “I have a trust?”
Darcy looked at her quizzically. “You didn’t know?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said. “My mother never told me. How much?”
“Open it.”
Anne opened the papers, reeling at what she saw there. “Oh!” She leaned against Charlotte. “Look, Ducks!”
Charlotte looked over Anne’s shoulder at the papers. Her eyes widened in shock at what she saw there.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many zeroes in all my life!”
Anne looked back up at Darcy. “How is this possible?”
“Well, your father left you some. The DeBourgh estate, you know. And then the admiral had some set aside for you. My mother too. I think they all agreed to do that for the children. The rest came from Grandfather Fitzwilliam.”
“But I barely remember him!”
“Then you’re doing better than me because I don’t remember him at all, and yet I have a piece of his estate too. He died before Georgie was born, but otherwise, the rest of us—you, me, James, Richard—we all got a piece of the Fitzwilliam fortune.”
“Oh…James.” She grew quiet for a minute. Darcy gave his cousin an affectionate smile.
“Richard gave most of James’s estate to the War Widows fund,” Darcy said. “I think James would have been happy with that.”
Anne opened her hand again and looked at the small ring of keys, her eyes widening at the name stamped across the largest of them. “LIBERTY.” She looked up at Charlotte and smiled.
“Have you ever been to New York, Ducks?”
***
November 1949
Netherfield
Darcy looked in the mirror and frowned, making Bingley laugh. Darcy had never taken issue with wearing a suit or tuxedo before, but for some reason the idea of dressing to the nines did not match the idea of marrying Elizabeth. The Elizabeth who lived in his head and in his heart was a water sprite, a wood nymph. A siren luring him—not to his doom but to his salvation.
She was never as beautiful to him as those times when they would wander in from their walks with her face rosy and her eyes bright. He was not sure what one would wear when marrying a wood nymph, but he knew it was not the immaculate, restricting costume he was currently sporting.
They had agreed to a two-month engagement at her parent’s request, but Darcy flatly refused to wait until after Christmas.
“Well, what do you think?” Bingley asked, straightening his own tie.
“Hmph.”
“Oh, come on, you cut a figure in that,” Bingley said as some consolation.
“It seems off somehow,” Darcy said, still frowning at himself. Looking closely, he noticed the circles under his red-rimmed eyes. There had been much to do of late and not enough hours in the day. He turned his professionally critical eye on himself for a moment, horror dawning on him.
“Charles…
has my nose always been this big?”
“As long as I’ve known you.”
“Good God! What the hell does she see in me?”
A smile was tugging at Bingley’s lips. He tried to master himself long enough to reply.
“It must be your sparkling per….person…” Bingley cleared his throat. “It must be your sparkling p-personality!” The laugh he had been holding back burst through, bending Bingley in half with the enormity of the joke.
Darcy looked down his (now fairly prodigious) nose at his friend for a few moments before the humor won out, and he too was laughing at himself.
“Gracious, what is all this noise?” Jane said from behind the door, opening it just wide enough to peek her head in, her brow furrowed.
“Oh, Jane!” Bingley cried, wiping his eyes. “Lizzie’s gonna marry Will for his…his…his personality!” Both men burst into a fresh round of laughter at the word, tears once more pouring from Bingley’s eyes.
“Well, of course she is!” Jane said, alarmed.
“Oh stop, I’m begging you!” Bingley held a hand up in surrender. “No more!” Jane’s irritation faded, and she, too, started laughing.
“Charles, really!” She chuckled before shutting the door. The sounds of their laughter followed her down the hall and did not abate for some time.
***
Fitzwilliam House
Annapolis, Maryland
It wasn’t until he was on his third scotch that Richard remembered the box in his bureau. It was his last night at the house in Annapolis. Tomorrow he would return to New York with Charlotte and Anne, and the Fitzwilliam Estate would be shuttered once more. He hauled himself out of his chair by the fire, careful of his cigarette. For a moment, the room spun around him and he forced himself to stare at the bureau until the world settled once more. He tottered over to it and yanked open the top drawer, tossing stacks of neatly folded undershirts aside until he found his object, a wooden cigar box, chipped and worn with age. He took it out and held it to his chest, closing his eyes.
