Designed for Each Other

by P. O. Dixon

  “Saying that, your sister is not a bad person; she is simply young and naïve and thus easily deceived by a nefarious man who has garnered years of experience perfecting the art of seduction not only against unsuspecting young ladies but older women as well whether single, married, or widowed. As you know, my own sister would have fallen victim to him had I not intervened, and you know how I adore her. Lydia made a mistake.

  “As for the two of us, we are both old enough to understand the consequences of our behavior. We are engaged. We are in love. Any expression of our feelings for each other is all that is natural, true, and right.”

  He placed his finger under her chin and persuaded her to look into his eyes. “Are we in agreement?”

  She nodded, smiling, her eyes filled with unshed tears of joy.

  “Then, pray, my love, let me show you how much I have been missing you.”

  Epilogue

  Time passed quickly as it generally does when young lovers are in love, and soon after securing her father’s blessing, Elizabeth married Mr. Darcy by way of a special license. At long last, Mr. Darcy swept his lovely bride into his arms and carried her off to Pemberley.

  Not long thereafter, much to Mrs. Darcy’s delight, came the news of yet another Bennet daughter’s engagement. The wedding was to take place at Netherfield in two months. Indeed, her dearest sister Jane and the amiable Mr. Bingley, making the best use of their time as de facto chaperones for Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, had found their way back to each other.

  As happy as Mrs. Bennet was for getting rid of her youngest daughter some months earlier and as excited as she was over the prospect of getting rid of her eldest daughter some months hence, it was the marriage of her second daughter that she was most proud of. And to a man so rich, so handsome, so tall, and with so little trouble to herself in the process. She knew she was sending her dear Jane off to town to secure Mr. Bingley. Never in her wildest dreams did she suppose Elizabeth might have the good sense to capture Mr. Darcy as well. Mr. Darcy, a man who had ten thousand pounds a year and purportedly owned half of Derbyshire. She knew her second eldest daughter could not have been so clever for nothing.

  Neither could Mr. Bennet find a reason to repine. Alone with his second oldest daughter in the minutes after Mr. Darcy’s petition, the aging patriarch had this to say: “I have given him my consent, my dearest Lizzy. I would have to be either a fool or the most indolent father on the face of the earth were I to deny his request.

  “Though some might say I have indulged in more than my rightful share of indolence especially as evidenced by my stewardship of my youngest, or rather lack thereof, nobody can accuse me of being a fool.

  “Your Mr. Darcy is the kind of man, indeed, to whom I should never dare refuse anything which he condescended to ask. And beyond all that, the gentleman has ten thousand pounds a year.”

  Supposing her father was merely speaking in jest, she kissed him on his chin in gratitude—thankful that in spite of the toll Lydia’s elopement had placed on both his body and his spirits, the odd mixture of quick parts and sarcastic humor which she had solely missed seeing in him since her return from Kent was once again beginning to shine through. Also apparent was his determination to be a better steward of his family, particularly young Kitty who was always eager for excitement and her pleas always met with firm resolve, usually to her detriment as well as her dismay.

  Eventually, Kitty was afforded the chance for felicity under Elizabeth’s stewardship, and she flourished because of it. As for Mary, her contentment was to be found mainly in the halls of Longbourn ever striving for accomplishment, whether it be reading or playing the pianoforte, and when she was not doing that, she was attending her mother.

  Elizabeth could never really stay angry with her youngest sister who was, after all, living the life she had always wished she would live: the first of the Bennet daughters to marry and to the most handsome, most charming, most dashing man in the whole wide world according to Lydia’s own testimony. For the sake of familial harmony, Elizabeth never spoke of Wickham’s scandalous proposal to anyone. Whether Wickham took her silence on the matter as a sign that there existed a reason for hope, Elizabeth could not rightly say. But what she could say was the leer often directed at her when he thought no one was looking never graced his countenance again when the two were unavoidably in each other’s company.

  Mr. Darcy undoubtedly would never receive him at Pemberley, and for that Elizabeth could only count her blessings.

  Some mention of Miss Bingley must be made. Indeed, though profoundly mortified by Mr. Darcy’s marriage to Elizabeth, she traveled from London to Hertfordshire to witness the auspicious occasion all the same. She went so far as to extend an olive branch to Jane, no doubt a must if she were to retain the right to visit her brother, Charles, whenever she fancied the notion of doing so. The right to visit Pemberley at her leisure was also something she coveted, which meant dropping all her resentment and paying off every arrear of civility to the new Mrs. Darcy.

  Gladly relinquishing the air of independence that must surely be afforded in having one’s own establishment, Georgiana accepted Elizabeth’s request to make Pemberley her home once again. Having a sister at last meant everything to the young lady, and although her time at Pemberley would likely not be of a long duration owing to her desire one day to meet and fall in love with the man of her dreams, she was determined to make every moment spent with her brother and his wife really count for something very special.

  Lady Catherine never did release her extreme indignation over the marriage of her nephew, which was just as well. Elizabeth had not yet taught herself to forgive the wicked aristocrat for abandoning her on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. As she was not quite prepared to overlook the offense, neither was Mr. Darcy. As he was bound and determined that he would never allow anyone to treat Elizabeth in such a shameful manner as his aunt had done, Elizabeth doubted she could persuade him to seek reconciliation with her ladyship even if she tried.

  Of course, she was not designed for ill-humor, except in the case of Mr. Wickham, and thus, she supposed the possibility for a reconciliation awaited Mr. Darcy and his aunt at some point in the future. She even supposed she might very well encourage such a prospect herself, but until such time as that, Lady Catherine de Bourgh was the last woman in the world with whom she wished to be bothered. If she suffered but one regret it was the unenviable position her friend Charlotte must surely endure being unable to escape Lady Catherine’s constant condemnations for throwing Elizabeth in her nephew’s path.

  Charlotte, however, was made of stronger stuff than Lady Catherine could ever know. She had a way of dealing with people of her ladyship’s ilk, as evidenced by the contentment she had carved out for herself amid the reality of her own situation as the wife of a ridiculous man.

  She and the Darcys were always on the most intimate terms. Elizabeth always loved her friend, and it was that love which steered them through what might have been the most severe test of all for their friendship.

  Darcy also held Charlotte in the highest esteem. He was ever sensible that he was wholly in her debt, for in coaxing him to go out in search of Elizabeth on what was meant to be his last day in Kent, she had thereby laid the foundation for what must indeed be considered the means of uniting them.

  ♥♥♥

  Something Extra

  Nights Like This

  Derbyshire, Pemberley

  It took a while for their blissfulness to subside, even longer for their breathing to calm. Experience had taught them it was going to be a long night. For the time being, Elizabeth simply enjoyed lying next to her husband.

  The flicker of soft light from the many candles she had lit earlier revealed her devastatingly handsome husband in such a way that reminded her how much she relished the sight of him.

  She smoothed her hand along his bare chest and at length traced his well-defined contours with her fingers.

  “I never thanked you properly f
or all you did on behalf of my family in saving our reputation from ruins.”

  Toying with a lock of her hair, Mr. Darcy replied, “Did you not, my love?”

  “Not in so many words—”

  “If you would thank me, my love, let it be for yourself alone. As with most everything since we met and fell in love, my thoughts were only of you.”

  Elizabeth retraced her fingers along their former path, lingering in some spots longer than others. “I must confess you are very generous with me, which reminds me of another matter for which I have been rather remiss.”

  “That being?” he asked, shifting a little, granting her more favorable access.

  “The manner in which I tried to end our engagement in London after learning what Lydia had done. I never truly apologized.”

  “It is true. You do owe me an apology for the pain and suffering I was forced to endure. How could you have doubted my love for you? Did I not make it clear that nothing could tear us apart, all the nights we spent in each other’s arms? Much like this—”

  “—Well, not exactly like this,” Elizabeth teased, allowing her fingers to wander a bit further down. Pleased by the fruit of her efforts, she pressed on for good measure. “I seem to recall some lingering barriers between us,” she said, given the fact that they always remained clothed all those nights spent together, however scantily, while engaged.

  “No—not exactly,” he said, his ardor steadily rising as a consequence of his wife’s busy fingers. Pulling her into his arms, he coaxed her to straddle his body. “Be that as it may, I am fully prepared to accept your apology for ever doubting me.”

  “I do apologize,” she said, assuming an attitude which always proved mutually satisfying.

  “And you must promise never to doubt me again.”

  “I do—I promise.”

  Their bodies now lovingly and ever so passionately melded as one, he placed his hands on either side of her waist encouraging her to take command. “Mind you, my love, should you ever renege on your promise, your punishment will be severe.”

  By her own contrivance, waves of pleasure flooded her being. “Oh?” Her spirits rising to playfulness, even amid the ebb and flow of their intercourse, she said, “If you were to ask me, I would say that sounds rather promising.”

  Taking the best advantage of their situation, he commenced adoring his wife with his lips—from her long slender neckline to her bosom—one side, the swell, and the other, in repetition until Elizabeth moaned.

  “I never said you would not enjoy it,” he whispered, steady to his purpose.

  Almost breathless, she persevered. “With such punishment as you suggest, sir, I fear you will make it very hard for me to maintain my resolve.”

  “Elizabeth, my love, I am just getting started.”

  Featured Book Excerpt

  If you enjoyed reading Designed for Each Other, you’ll enjoy By Reason, by Reflection, by Everything too. Here’s a sneak peek!

  Wonder and Intrigue

  (Chapter 3 Excerpt)

  Today is everything it ought to be. My Jane shall meet the gentleman whom she very well may marry and with whom she may spend the rest of her life. Elizabeth could not imagine being anywhere but by her sister’s side during such an auspicious occasion, and thus the two of them sat next to each other, arm in arm, as their carriage rounded the bend headed for Pemberley.

  Everywhere Elizabeth looked she beheld the estate’s natural beauty. When at last the manor house came into view, she gasped on behalf of her sister as well as herself. There stood a massive stone mansion backed by a ridge of high woody hills. In front of it, flowed a large stream, its banks neither formal nor falsely adorned.

  Never have I seen such a place as this, Elizabeth silently reflected. Pemberley. Is there any wonder it is hailed as one of the finest estates in all of Derbyshire?

  One glance at her sister and she rather supposed their thoughts must have tended along the exact same lines. Both of their faces overspread with contagious smiles.

  “Dearest Jane,” Elizabeth remarked, “how fortunate you are. To be mistress of such a place as this must surely be something. How fortunate you are indeed.”

  Jane squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “Dearest Lizzy, I appreciate your enthusiasm over the prospects for my future life, but truth be told, I feel more overwhelmed than fortunate at this moment. What if the gentleman takes one look at me and concludes he wants nothing to do with me? What a considerable distance to travel to be summarily sent on one’s way.”

  “Not like you! Jane, do not be ridiculous. I posit Mr. Darcy will fall madly in love with you the moment he lays eyes on you. How could he not? Unless of course, the gentleman is a fool. But even a fool would fancy himself the wisest and the luckiest man in the world to proclaim himself your future husband.”

  “We shall see,” Jane replied in a voice that lacked the joy the moment warranted.

  “Jane, I can see you are not as convinced of your unmitigated charms as you ought to be. But you need not worry, for I have enough confidence for the two of us. Mark my words, there will be a wedding here at Pemberley in under three months, or my name is not Elizabeth Bennet.”

  “Oh, Lizzy! Where would I be without you?”

  “Pray you will never find out.”

  “Then does that mean you will accompany me on my wedding journey?” Jane bit her lower lip sheepishly. “That is to say, should events unfold as you anticipate.”

  “I agreed to spend this time with you here at Pemberley, did I not? I see no reason to abandon you once you have accepted your prince.”

  A little while later, a mixture of wonder and intrigue commanded Elizabeth’s thoughts as their carriage drew to a halt in front of the imposing manor house. The number of people awaiting them was such that she had never witnessed before.

  What a welcoming reception.

  Two tall, very distinguished looking gentlemen were flanked on either side by lines of servants uniformly attired in stark black and white. The older of the two, Elizabeth quickly surmised as being the master of Pemberley, Mr. George Darcy. His countenance was stern and dignified, but there was something about his eyes that gave a real glimpse into his character. While indeed a man to be reckoned with, Elizabeth suspected buried beneath his austere outward appearance was a heart of gold.

  The gentleman who stood beside him, much to Elizabeth’s surprise, wore a military uniform.

  How can it be that the future master of Pemberley is an officer? Elizabeth immediately questioned herself in silence. As they were mere moments from meeting their magnanimous hosts for the summer, she suppressed her urge to ask her father how he had overlooked conveying such a fascinating tidbit of information to any of them.

  How pleased Mama will be upon learning not only does her eldest daughter stand a chance of being the next mistress of such a grand home, but moreover her would-be son-in-law is a dashing officer.

  Not very long afterward, Mr. Bennet, Jane, and Elizabeth descended the carriage and awaited the approach of the two gentlemen. Elizabeth tossed her sister a tentative smile. Any irksome reservations she suffered that Jane might be subjected to a less than desirable alliance faded with each step the eminent gentlemen took.

  A good measure of formality was cast aside as the older gentleman eschewed the expected handshake and embraced her father. “Bennet, my old friend, after all these decades it gives me enormous pleasure to say to you, ‘Welcome to my home. Welcome to Pemberley.’”

  Her father responded to his old friend in the warm manner that was to be expected of acquaintances who had not had the privilege of sharing each other’s company after a great long absence, and soon thereafter it was time for introductions to the other members of the assemblage.

  All at once, a quiet hush spread throughout the gathering as all heads swung in the direction of a new addition to the welcoming party. Elizabeth could hardly believe her eyes. She knew without being told that she had been mistaken earlier as regarded the officer’s id
entity. The tall, handsome gentleman with dark hair, brooding dark eyes, and noble mien who appeared before them was the most beautiful sight her eyes had ever beheld.

  Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.

  My sister Jane is a most fortunate woman, she could not help but think, even though the gentleman’s eyes were not fixed on Jane. To Elizabeth’s bewilderment, his eyes were fixed on her. She was powerless to turn away. But turn away she must, for this was Jane’s moment, and Elizabeth truly did not want to miss bearing witness to a single second of her sister’s joy.

  Elizabeth must have blinked an instant or two, for before she knew it, the gentleman stood by the elder Mr. Darcy’s side and was introduced to her own father. And no sooner had her father been introduced to the officer did the three gentlemen focus their full attention to Jane and Elizabeth.

  “Allow me to present my eldest daughter,” Mr. Bennet began, directing everyone’s eyes to Jane. “Mr. Darcy, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, and Colonel Fitzwilliam, meet Miss Jane Bennet.” Each of the gentlemen, starting with the eldest, greeted Jane in their turn. Elizabeth could not help noticing the decided contrast in the manner of the gentlemen’s addresses. The elder Mr. Darcy’s expression was lively, his manner warm and welcoming—very much the same as it had been toward her father. Colonel Fitzwilliam’s greeting was equally pleasant, but the other gentleman’s - the one that mattered the most - was rather wanting.

  Before Elizabeth had too much time to mull over the implications of what such a reception might mean for her sister’s prospects, it was her turn to be introduced. Once again, she detected in the gentlemen the same measure of civility that had been extended toward Jane with but one exception, for she was confident that the younger Mr. Darcy’s eyes held fixed with hers a second or two longer than was necessary—his hand lingered upon hers just a bit longer than that.