Chapter Fifteen
Kent
April 1820
The man at the coaching inn directed George to “the fourth road on the left past the gray stone dovecote.” The dovecote had been easy to spot, and if he didn’t count the trail too narrow for a carriage, the gravel avenue stretching before him would be the one leading to the home of Amanda Annesley’s sister.
He halted Ghora by the gate and took a moment to wipe his brow and run one hand through his hair. He had washed at the inn and quickly changed out of his dusty traveling clothes, but it didn’t hurt to make sure he was presentable. It was doubtful tamed hair would be the deciding factor, but a few minutes to inhale and calm his pounding heart were worth spending.
When Georgiana and the Matlocks had arrived at Netherfield with Colonel Fitzwilliam and Major General Artois in tow but no Mrs. Annesley, George seriously thought his heart would cease beating. After days of extreme tension over facing her, the blow of disappointment was immense. The struggle to erect his usual façade of jocularity was nearly more than he could handle. The occasional strange glance from Darcy and Elizabeth alerted him to the fact that his acting skills were failing. Luckily, the house was filled to bursting with merry guests visiting for the nuptials of Miss Kitty Bennet to Major General Randall Artois, and with the strained addition of Mr. and Mrs. George Wickham, it was easy to fade into the background—as much as he was ever capable of. It was a joyous occasion and with the suspicions over Wickham’s motives for attending, George was somewhat distracted.
Nevertheless, the day and a half before he could casually inquire of Georgiana as to where her companion was topped the list of the roughest patches of his life!
“She took a coach to Kent, where her sister lives.”
“Oh, I am sure she must have missed her family. Kent is lovely, all but Rosings, that is. Whereabouts does her sister live?”
“A small town called Cranleigh just north of Maidstone. She plans to spend Easter there at least.”
“At least? Is she not coming back?”
“I am not sure, Uncle. Maybe, but she seems uncertain of her future plans. I am twenty, after all, so not in desperate need of a companion.” Then she walked away, George not sure if the sly glint in her eye was his imagination or not.
He asked no further questions and could do nothing until after Kitty’s wedding when they were relocated to London. Easter was only a week away, but George was done with waiting. He threw the bare essentials into his saddlebag and set off one morning, swiftly covering the forty miles to Cranleigh. There was something vaguely chivalrous and romantic about it, or at least he hoped Amanda would see it that way.
The house was quiet, no one in immediate sight, which worried George, but a servant answered his knock quickly enough. She examined him strangely, that nothing George was unaccustomed to, and politely asked him to wait on the stoop while she fetched the mistress.
Mrs. Tadworth bore a striking resemblance to Amanda, even her warm smile the same, and thus pierced his heart. He glanced over her shoulder as she crossed the foyer toward him but no one was following.
“Dr. Darcy, what a pleasure. I am Amanda’s sister, Abigail, and have heard so much about you.”
“You have?”
“Indeed. Quite a great deal.”
“I am not sure if that news is comforting or disconcerting.”
“You can decide that after you speak with my sister. Please, come in. Shall I call for tea while we wait for her to return or would you rather go look for her yourself?”
“Based on what she has told you of me, would you suggest bolstering my fortitude with strong tea or not delaying the inevitable by seeking her out? To be honest, I have no idea what to expect.”
“I suppose that depends on why you are here. But assuming you would not come all this way for a disagreeable purpose, then I will direct you to the path leading past the rear garden. Amanda went for a walk.”
George set off down the indicated path with a somewhat lightened heart. He was afraid to presume anything, but Mrs. Tadworth’s kind demeanor did not hint of a woman who hated him. It wasn’t much to cling to, but it was something. She had no idea where Amanda might be, stating only that she preferred this path for her walks because it provided the best shade. He walked for a good half mile and then almost missed her entirely. If not for the clunk of something firm hitting the ground, he would not have peered into the rows of apple trees several yards to the right of the trail, and if not for a muttered curse, he would not have left the trail to investigate. Heading in the general direction of rustling branches and a voice he instantly recognized, George wove through the trees until he saw her. Immediately a broad smile split his face.
Amanda stood on the top bar of a tall, wooden fence, her back to him as she reached way above her head to pick the ripest apples on the higher branches, placing the ones she successfully grabbed into the woven basket perched atop the fence post. It was an absolutely endearing vision, and quite humorous with her running commentary, scolding the tree for being unyielding. As anxious as he was to see her face and declare his love, the delight in observing her secretly was irresistible.
One glance at her petite body, precisely the same as etched upon his mind, ignited the desire kept banked to a tiny flame these past months. His heartbeat and respirations accelerated, and for a solid minute, he was blinded by sheer animal lust. If she had turned then, all of his prettily rehearsed sentences would have been uttered while driving deeply and madly into her against one of the tree trunks! Inhaling, George regained control, and as the surge of ardor diminished, pure love swelled. As often as he had dwelt upon making love to her, he had dreamt of every other moment they spent together, even if a mere glance or smile from across the room.
Hesitating no longer, he left the shadows and crossed the distance between them. She still had not seen him, her focus on the fruit, and he waited until right behind her before speaking.
“You need someone taller to reach those branches. Think I can help?”
She yelped and spun about, George realizing belatedly that startling her while precariously balancing on a narrow pole was not a smart plan. Until, that is, she fell into his arms, at which point he decided it was a capital idea.
“Whoa there! I have you. Seems like you and I are always falling into each other’s arms. Not that I am complaining in the slightest.” He steadied her against the fence with her body firmly pressed into his torso and then cupped her stunned face within his hands. “Say something, Amanda. Anything. Or should I go first?” He bent until inches away from her parted lips. “What I should have said to you in Switzerland. I love you, Amanda Annesley. I love you with all my soul and never want to let you go. Please tell me I have not lost you.”
“George? Have I fallen and hit my head? Am I dreaming?”
“No, silly,” he laughed. “Let me prove it to you.”
Then he kissed her, the spark jolting him as intensely as the last time they kissed months ago. But he pulled away after a light brush of his lips, wanting, needing to hear her thoughts before his ardor flared beyond his control. She was clutching his kameez, and her eyes opened when he pulled away, staring at him dazedly.
“I am here, Amanda, and would have come sooner, but I had to attend Miss Bennet’s wedding. I was going to search for you in Paris, but other family obligations intervened. I’ll tell you of that later, if we have a later. God, Amanda, please speak! It is killing me!”
“Sorry. I am just so shocked. I didn’t expect you to come here. Not once. I thought you didn’t want me—”
“I was a bloody fool, Amanda, an absolute imbecile to leave you, especially with so many erroneous conclusions. I want to explain everything, and I will, but the most important point, aside from that I love you and want you so badly it is agonizing, is that I am not in any way loathe to be married. In fact, for longer than I can begin to re
late it has been my one greatest desire. Commitment does not scare me, Amanda. Not with a woman I love.”
“You mean Jharna.”
“What?” He was so stunned he released her face and moved back a step. She did not let go of him, though, and stepped with him.
“Georgiana told me. Recently. After she… well, you may not know of her news, so I won’t say. But we are close and she sensed something wasn’t right with me. I told her about you and me, that I loved you and most of what had transpired. That is when she told me of Jharna. George, I can’t begin to convey my remorse for… everything. I was unbelievably unkind to accuse you as I did, leaping to judgments without giving you a chance to explain.”
“No,” he soothed, brushing the tears off her cheeks. “You did nothing wrong and were correct to make your assumptions based on how I acted. It isn’t easy for me to talk about Jharna. Or at least it wasn’t. Now it is different. She is a part of me as Mr. Annesley is you, but they are our past. None of that matters now, Amanda. We can talk it through later. Right now, all I need to hear is that you still love me because I love you and knew it before the ship docked in Dover. Can you put it all aside and tell me from your heart that you still love me?”
But she was already nodding her head emphatically, the smile lighting her face as brilliant as the sun. “I never stopped loving you, George. Never for a moment. Yes I love you! Immensely.”
“Ah, music to my ears. I will never tire of hearing you say those three words and hope you do not either.” He unraveled her hands from the sides of his kameez and enfolded them between his. “Before I kiss you and lose all control of my faculties, I need to know one other thing. Amanda, my beautiful, wonderful love, will you do me the tremendous honor of marrying me?”
“Yes!” She shouted it, George swearing later that the nearby branches swayed under the force of her positive declaration. Nonsensical as that was, his heart definitely skipped several beats before it started racing when she threw her arms about his neck and clamped her lips onto his.
It was hours before they returned to the house. Mrs. Tadworth was growing seriously concerned and about to send Mr. Tadworth out with a search party. Then she saw her sister stroll into view, her small body glued to the side of the towering gentleman who without any doubt was extremely happy with the position. In fact, happy was an inadequate word by a long mile to describe either one of them. Any number of adjectives could be used, especially if taking into consideration the leaves stuck in her sister’s hair and the dirt smudges on their rumpled garments!
Mrs. Tadworth smiled. She waited until they mounted the back stairs before greeting them at the door, her only question of relevance being when the wedding would be so she could start planning.
***
Not quite two months later, George stood before a tall mirror, adjusting the sherwani’s jeweled and richly embroidered collar. It didn’t really need adjusting, but the activity occupied his hands. Unfortunately, the mirror also provided a clear reflection of the clock that he swore was ticking slower than normal.
“Nervous? It isn’t too late to change your mind, you know. William and I will explain to the guests while you escape out the back and dash screaming for the forests of Pemberley.”
George lowered his hands and turned from the mirror with a chuckle. “No chance, Richard. If you think you waited for your wedding day for a long time, imagine how I feel. I have faced copious challenges and terrifying situations in my life. Trust me, this does not enter even the bottom of the list. Now, how do I look? It isn’t too much, is it?”
“Would Amanda want otherwise?” Darcy answered. “If you walked out there in an English suit or a plain Indian outfit, she wouldn’t recognize you. She might pivot and head to a different church thinking she was in the wrong place.”
“You have a point.” George nodded seriously, turning back to the mirror.
He ran his palms down the gold and crimson designs spanning three-inches of the sherwani’s buttoned front, the intricate zari thread work extending from the ban collar, over George’s broad shoulders, and down the entire length of the below-the-knee coat, and then around the bottom edge. The brilliant colors were a sharp, exquisite contrast to the shimmering ivory fabric of the thick coat lined in crimson satin. Underneath, George wore a shalwar kameez in the same ivory, the fabric lighter weight but as finely woven as the sherwani. The mojari covering his feet were beaded and embroidered to perfectly match the coat’s design. Taken as a whole, George presented an elegant, exotic picture that would dazzle everyone in the room, especially his bride.
“This was my ensemble at Nimesh and Sasi’s wedding. You should have seen what they wore. I paled in comparison. Alas, I did not have time to obtain a proper groom’s suit, and God knows I wasn’t about to wait any longer. These two months have been torture!”
Darcy shared a glance with Richard, both men grinning.
George’s initial desire to dash up to Pemberley with Amanda on the back of his horse and be married before the week ended didn’t pan out. Of course, while Amanda would probably have agreed to that if he pushed, George respected that a properly planned wedding was best. Plus, even though he had fun grousing about all the falderal, it was his first and only marriage ceremony, and he did want it to be special.
George wanted to be married in the Pemberley Chapel where generations of Darcys had stood and declared their commitment before God. To his delight, Amanda loved the idea, so it was decided to wait until after their long-planned trip to Rosings Park in Kent. George balked a bit, but the delay made sense not only to avoid irritating Lady Catherine by postponing a visit—not that George did not relish irritating Lady Catherine—but also, mainly, because he wanted to personally share his news and joy with Raul Penaflor.
Through all the traveling and changing decisions, Amanda was with him. George and Amanda were not blatant about their relationship, she with her bedchamber and he with his, but few were ignorant of the fact that they spent every night together and were blissfully happy as a result. Reserve was not a trait George Darcy possessed in vast quantities, so he made little effort to restrain his feelings for the woman who was, in just a few minutes, going to be his wife. Amanda was gradually becoming accustom to the tender touches and bold kisses from her lover that randomly occurred throughout the day no matter where they were or who was around. Marriage to a man of George Darcy’s effervescence, eccentricity, spontaneity, and disregard for propriety promised to be a challenge at times, but then these were the exact qualities that she had fallen in love with from afar.
So naturally, she was fully expecting him to be wearing a flashy garment for their wedding and was actually rather surprised it wasn’t a vivid green or purple! In any color or style, to her eyes, he was the handsomest man on the planet. This she had told him on numerous occasions, risking his arrogance swelling out of control, as she teased. George always thanked her for the compliment, following with the assurance that his arrogant pride had attained its maximum level the second she agreed to be his partner for life. As she glided down the aisle of the quaint church, George knew it was the truth. She wore blue, to his delight, her gown a mixture of pale shades and darker hues, layers of fine muslin and silk accented with ribbons and lace to fashion a stunning dress. Seeing it on her lush body, and imagining peeling it off later, nearly made him collapse. As soon as she reached him, he clasped her hands, bending to kiss her lightly on the lips and whisper, “You are sublime and I love you forever.”
“Well now, if it isn’t a bother, may I conduct the ceremony first, Dr. Darcy?”
George winked at the aged rector. “Carry on, Reverend Bertram. You have the floor!”
Epilogue
The Greatest Adventure of All
January 2, 1821
George closed the door behind him and spared a precious minute to lean into the jamb. He was exhausted but knew that his smile was wider than it had ever b
een in his life. Seven months ago, he had not thought it possible to be any happier. How wrong he was! The grin grew even wider and suddenly the weariness fled from his body. With an exuberant launch from the door and jaunty gait, he hastened down the hallway to the parlor where his friends and family were waiting in anticipation.
Rounding the corner, he halted three feet inside the door.
Darcy launched up from his chair and strode toward him, eyes worried and expectant. Elizabeth’s expression was much the same, although she did not rise from her seat due to the newborn infant nestled at her breast and the thirteen-month-old asleep on her lap. Searc McIntyre did not rise either but did scoot to the edge of his chair, Raul Penaflor doing the same and clutching tightly to the hand of his wife, Anne. Malcolm and Madeline, the Vernors, Richard and Simone Fitzwilliam, Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, Charles and Jane Bingley, Anoop and his wife Hortense, and several others who had traveled to Pemberley for Christmas and then decided to tarry specifically for the news he was about to impart. Before he could, his gaze settled on the man standing across the room by the window. His son, Alexis the Duke of Larent, was staring as expectantly as the others, although as a supposed “new friend of the family,” he kept his excitement leashed.
Only ten seconds had passed but apparently that was an eternity to a child.
“Uncle Goj, is Auntie Manda a mama now?”
George threw his head back and laughed. Whooped, actually. Then he bent down and snatched Alexander off the floor, blocks tumbling, and tossed him in the air. “Yes, Alexander, your Auntie Manda is a mama!” He hugged the boy close and addressed the grinning and clapping audience. “And I am a papa! Can you believe that? All went well and my wife performed brilliantly. As did her delivering physician, I must add. I had to wait until I was sure everything and everyone was fine. Amanda is resting now.”
The Passions of Dr. Darcy Page 48
