Haunting Mr. Darcy

by KaraLynne Mackrory

  Darcy swallowed the emotion that this speech wrought upon him. She could not know the images and hopes her words conjured up for him. How I wish you would awake and remember your true purpose, Elizabeth . . .

  “You do not bring with you any treasures today, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth teased, effectively pulling his attention back to her.

  A smile came to his lips and he looked at her with open affection. “I did not. Sadly, you are left merely with me today.”

  “I shall bear up as best I can, sir.”

  Darcy laughed, and she soaked up the sound, ever eager to hear it again. Wishing to hear it more, or more than she ought, she considered the tumult of emotions the sound produced in her.

  Together they walked companionably for some distance, engaged in pleasant conversation, when the toe of Elizabeth’s half boot caught on a stone, and in her distraction, she tripped.

  Instantly Darcy reached out to steady her, his bare hands coming in contact with the silky skin of her arms — skin to skin, for the first time since he had kissed her at Longbourn, Darcy sucked in a breath and they froze, knowing he ought to release her but less certain whether it was in his power to do so.

  The moment his hands touched her skin, Elizabeth felt a whooshing sensation, and her vision darkened as images and thoughts flew through her mind, echoing one by one, like drops from the sky settling into her heart. That organ, long asleep, skipped a beat, two, and then she felt it restart with a glorious tattoo of reawaking as she remembered every emotion, word and look of her dream in London with Darcy. Her arrival in his London library, her magical ability to experience books, his words of love and devotion — all came rushing back, filling up the empty spaces within her. Instantly she remembered and felt the moments anew; she experienced the contentment of acknowledged love and at once was overwhelmed with a shaky power from within as it fused her heart again to her spirit.

  Mesmerized by the marvelous truth settling in her soul, she breathed, “William.”

  Darcy’s heart hammered in his throat, and he dared not believe his ears. He knew she would not have called him by his Christian name, not unless . . . Oh God, please let it be! Slowly he pulled Elizabeth backward to rest against his chest, his arms stealing around her as he buried his head in the crook of her neck. His face was against the softness there, breathing in her delicate scent and furiously praying he had not heard wrong.

  “William!” she said again, this time with all the tenderness he had known of her before. He felt her small fingers reach up and press his head to hers.

  Darcy trembled with the emotions pulsing through him, a part of him fearing that this was all a dream. Overwhelmed by the beautiful possibility it was not and yet still conscious of being discovered thus, Darcy wordlessly withdrew his arms, took her hand and began leading her into the forest, his destination clear even if the riot of emotions were not.

  Upon reaching the little clearing, he turned to her and pulled her to kneel with him. Hand in hand, they knelt, facing each other, leaning back on their heels, and gazing into the other’s eyes for the first time with that new awareness.

  “Elizabeth,” Darcy said reverently. “Can this be happening? Do you really . . . ” Emotion choked off his words.

  Elizabeth burst into a watery laugh then as she leaned forward to touch a hand to his cheek. “It feels just as I remembered,” she murmured, exploring his cheek with her fingers. Her eyes searched his, and a sob bubbled up then as she comprehended the love there that she recalled now with such vivid conviction.

  Her head collapsed against his shoulder, and his arms immediately wrapped around her, desperate to hold her close and never let her go. While Elizabeth’s body wracked with relieved sobs, Darcy pressed his head to hers, lifted it almost as quickly to remove her bonnet and then rested himself again against the softness of her curls. His relief demonstrated itself in the fierceness of his hold. He would not let her go for anything.

  Nothing could describe the utter disbelief and rapture he felt. Part of him had despaired he might never make her fall in love with him again, or that she might never remember the time it first happened. His touch had stirred something when he reached out instinctively to catch her from her fall, and he could never be more grateful that he had forgotten his gloves in his rush to see her that morning. Hugging her closer to him, he sent a silent prayer of gratitude for this miracle wrought upon them.

  Elizabeth felt complete for the first time in many months. She was no longer lost or sensed a loss. She was exactly where she was meant to be. Her mind raced through each of the days with Darcy in London over and over again as if to commit them to her memory — to secure them in her heart, never to be lost again. That organ beat rapidly as she listened to his. She recalled listening to it that evening in the library when she had embraced him after he recounted his history with Wickham. She had so longed at that time to truly feel his embrace and indeed give him comfort. The realization that she was now experiencing what she had so wanted then only increased the tempo of her already frantic heart and warmed her cheeks.

  When at length they separated, Elizabeth smiled with glistening eyes as she wiped a tender hand across his tear-stained cheek.

  “I am so very glad it was you,” she said as she assimilated now the gentleman from the brief memories she had been having as being Darcy, one and the same. When she saw his puzzled expression, she explained how she had had flashes of different scenes, memories she now knew. She told him how she had known she felt very fondly for the mysterious gentleman in her mind. “I knew not how to account for him, but I am glad now to know it was you.”

  “Elizabeth . . . ” he said again, hardly able to give voice to the happiness building with in him. A part of her knew! A part of her remembered! He allowed his eyes to travel all over her, as if to assure himself that this Elizabeth was indeed reality. “You are well? Pardon me, but I must know for sure. Do you remember London?”

  Elizabeth tilted her head and shifted so that she sat against him. “I remember every minute, every heartbeat...”

  Attempting to commit her words to memory, Darcy tilted her head up so he could see her eyes. With a sigh, he released the last of the worry, heartbreak and sadness that had gripped him during the last months. “I have missed you so very dearly, my love.”

  It was a minute before Elizabeth said anything. “I am sorry that I did not remember, that I caused you pain, William.”

  Darcy smiled at her use of his name; he would never get used to it. “So am I.”

  “How you must have suffered when I awoke,” she said with feeling as she sat up again and enthusiastically wrapped her arms about his neck to comfort him.

  He laughed, holding her close, savoring the exquisite feeling, before pulling back to look at her. “I am sorry that I did not stay to help you remember. I was foolish enough to think I had lost you.”

  “How came you to Rosings then?”

  “You alone have brought me to Rosings. For you alone, I think and plan, though it was Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam who convinced me to try. Will you forgive me?”

  “If you will forgive me,” Elizabeth said with a smile.

  “I would forgive you anything, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, if you will consent to marry me. If at last you will be my wife, my companion and never again leave my side.”

  Elizabeth’s hands brushed gently across his cheeks and came to rest on his shoulders. “You have bewitched me body and soul, Fitzwilliam Darcy and I love, love, love you.”

  A rumble emanated from Darcy’s throat as he looked down at Elizabeth and could resist no longer. He leaned into her and placed his lips upon hers again after so many months of anguish. She returned the kiss with equal passion. Theirs was a love that transcended life, conquered the spiritual world, and could not be lost, evermore.

  Epilogue

  Elizabeth looked at her reflection in the mirror and smiled a secret smile. Today was the day she was going to leave the name of Bennet and take up the name,
Darcy. She knew herself to be happy, and the pleasure she felt radiated throughout her being.

  “You almost glow, my dear!”

  Elizabeth turned to bestow a smile upon her Aunt Gardiner, in town with her uncle for the wedding. She watched her aunt take in the dress with a smile.

  “It looks very lovely on you, Lizzy. I am so very glad that I thought to have it made.”

  Elizabeth nodded and returned her gaze to her reflection in the mirror. Her aunt had come across a swath of the most beautiful ivory silk and had commissioned a dress before the carriage accident. The dressmaker, familiar with Elizabeth’s measurements from previous work, had created a gown of such pristine beauty that Elizabeth was in awe when she first saw it.

  Though the dress itself was quite stunning, Elizabeth was mesmerized in truth because it was the very dress she wore while in London with Darcy in her dream-state. She knew while in London that she had never owned such a dress, and when her aunt first presented her this gift upon hearing of her engagement, Elizabeth immediately recognized it — declaring the dress was destined to be her wedding dress. No suggestions by anyone to add a ribbon here, or a patch of lace there would be listened to. Elizabeth knew exactly how it ought to look, and she would brook no alterations. Fate had decided its look already, and Lizzy would not tempt Fate.

  “It is time, Lizzy. Jane is ready and has already gone down to the carriage.”

  Elizabeth, suddenly overcome with emotion, flung her arms around Mrs. Gardiner. “Thank you so very much for the dress. It is perfect, more than you know.”

  Mrs. Gardiner’s eyes glistened, and she pulled away with a watery laugh. “I knew from the first moment you liked it. I am honored you have chosen it as your wedding dress. Mr. Darcy, I am certain, will find you heavenly.”

  Elizabeth started at first, and then laughed to herself. “That, I believe, dear Aunt, is assured. I happen to know he will love it.” Her aunt looked at her oddly but nevertheless escorted Elizabeth down the stairs.

  Once at the church, Elizabeth drew her father aside before it was time for him to escort her and Jane down the aisle for their double wedding.

  “You are well, Papa?”

  Mr. Bennet nodded, patted his sweet daughter on the cheek and said, “I can hardly believe such a story. Or any man worthy of you, Lizzy, but I am overruled. Who am I to argue with Fate?”

  Elizabeth quickly embraced her father. She had needed to convince him when she and Darcy returned from Kent engaged. Mr. Bennet worried that her state upon leaving was influencing her decision to marry Mr. Darcy. He did not want her to make decisions of such magnitude or lasting effect before she was completely recovered. Together, Darcy and she had shared the miraculous and unbelievable story. Stunned he had sat silently through it all, watching the exchanges of looks between Darcy and Elizabeth as they each revealed parts of the implausible tale. Elizabeth remembered, with fond amusement, her father’s first uttered words after hearing the incredible accounting.

  “Young man, there will be no more visits to my daughter’s chambers.” Mr. Bennet said strictly — and it must be said, still with a hint of humor — successfully assuring the younger ones he believed them and also attempting to shake the shock from such a story.

  “Then you ought to see to fixing that door, sir.” Mr. Darcy replied definitively and without embarrassment, effectively bringing a wry smile to her father’s still staggered expression.

  In the end, Mr. Bennet could do naught but believe it and grant his blessing, for his eyes beheld a love so magnificent that to do otherwise would have been quite impossible, though he did see to the side door immediately.

  “Thank you, Papa. I shall be quite happy with him.”

  Together with watery eyes, they turned to join Jane. Elizabeth had struggled whether or not to tell Jane about her phantasmal history with Darcy and, in the end, shared the whole of it. She had so longed for her sister during the most confusing of the times in London as she fell in love with the last man in the world she ever would have thought to marry; to keep Jane in the dark would have been irreverent to the story.

  Jane gave Elizabeth a triumphant smile, very like the one she wore after learning her suspicions regarding Mr. Darcy’s admiration for Elizabeth were correct. It was unlike her dear sister to gloat, but Elizabeth found it endearing in that case.

  “Yes, yes, yes Jane. You were right all along, and I shall never live it down, I see. But in such cases as these, a good memory is unpardonable.”

  Jane laughed at the playful glint in Elizabeth’s eye and kissed her cheek. They both knew the immense value of Elizabeth’s recent return to “a good memory.”

  “Come, my darling girls; let us meet these gentlemen of yours.”

  * * *

  When Darcy saw his bride coming down the aisle to him and recognized the dress, his love for her then grew boundless, and his eyes told her exactly how heavenly she looked. Here was his angelic vision now in the flesh.

  Darcy and Elizabeth spoke their vows with conviction and feeling, neither wishing to place doubt in the powers above of their willingness to devote themselves to the other. Each was mindful and possessed the warmest gratitude towards the powers that be who, by bringing her to his library in London, had been the means of uniting them

  When the ceremony ended, Darcy brought Elizabeth’s hand to his lips and said with feeling, “At last, Mrs. Darcy.”

  Elizabeth smiled at her new husband, grateful for their strange spirited courtship. Their solitary moment was soon disrupted, however, by the glad tidings of their guests.

  Among the first to congratulate the newlyweds were the groom’s sister and cousin. Instrumental in their reconciliation, the two were tenderly embraced and congratulations accepted with welcome hearts. Colonel Fitzwilliam, upon learning of the good news of Elizabeth’s returned memory had been quick to aid his cousin in defusing their aunt’s displeasure at the news of Darcy and Elizabeth’s engagement, though it was not their efforts that made the final difference; that honor went to Darcy’s cousin Anne, who leveled her mother’s combative vitriol by reminding Lady Catherine of the knowledge they both had that she, because of her condition, had been told many years before by their physician that she was barren. This news, of course, was received with sympathetic exchanges from her gentlemen cousins, and knowing that Darcy could not leave Pemberley without an heir, Lady Catherine had unhappily relented. She never displayed any remorse for wishing to deceive Darcy in the matter before and never uttered any form of acceptance for Elizabeth after.

  “Mrs. Darcy, what a pleasure it is to see everything come to rights. If only I had met you first,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said with a gallant bow.

  Elizabeth smirked. “Thank you, Colonel. Might I give you a bit of advice?”

  Surprised, Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded and waited for her to speak. Darcy eyed his wife with interest, and Georgiana listened attentively, too.

  “You ought to watch your language when in the presence of a lady, Colonel, if you ever hope to catch a wife.”

  Darcy erupted in loud laughter, followed a beat behind by his cousin as they both remembered the time in Darcy’s study when Colonel Fitzwilliam had, not knowing of Elizabeth’s manifestation, allowed quite a few ungentlemanly oaths to pass his lips.

  “And perhaps you ought to be a bit more temperate too, Cousin,” Darcy added with a slap on the shoulder.

  Looking at her companions for clarification, Georgiana said, “I do not understand.”

  “I do not feel that I can be held accountable for my actions that evening. Darcy’s port is of the highest quality,” the colonel quipped with good-humored defense.

  Georgiana, remembering something of this from Darcy’s account at Pemberley, tapped her cousin’s arm with her fan and bestowed upon him a scowl that sobered him immediately. “Richard! Do not tell me you spoke rudely in front of my new sister?”

  “I did not know she was in the room, Georgie!” Colonel Fitzwilliam defended.

  With
smiles, the newlyweds left them to argue alone as they greeted their other guests.

  * * *

  Darcy laughed uncontrollably as he walked backwards across the threshold, pulling Elizabeth along by her hand. She looked at him with a mock frown, causing him to laugh harder.

  “I do not find it humorous in the least, Mr. Darcy. And I should think you would not wish to upset your wife so soon upon your nuptials.”

  Darcy attempted to rein in his laughter. “I am sorry, Elizabeth, but I find it infinitely funny and perversely fitting that the tables have turned so delightfully. For once, it is not I provoking strange looks.”

  Elizabeth harrumphed and crossed her arms about her. “It was a slip from decorum on my part and I find little humor in it.”

  Darcy drew her to him and wrapped his arms about her waist then. With one hand, he lifted a curl at her brow and twisted it in his fingers before lovingly tucking it behind her ear. Though he was no longer laughing, good humor colored his gentle tone. “The look on their faces was priceless.”

  Elizabeth’s lips twitched and she relented. “Mr. and Mrs. Carroll certainly were quite startled, were they not?”

  Darcy chuckled again, nodding. “I am certain they will think little on it, except to believe their new mistress is exceedingly friendly.”

  Elizabeth laughed then, unable to pretend displeasure anymore. After their journey from Hertfordshire to London following the wedding breakfast, it had been an impulse, an instinct rather, that caused her to embrace the housekeeper and kiss the cheek of the butler upon first entering Darcy House minutes before. She had been so pleased to see them again and gladdened to be back in a place that held such cherished memories. Elizabeth simply forgot that her state when she had met them was a little less corporeal.

  The rumble of laughter in Darcy’s chest was felt against her own, and Elizabeth suddenly became aware of their current location. It had been natural to be led by Darcy through the house, so natural that she had thought little of their destination until now. With a sudden and extreme blush, Elizabeth noted that he had brought her to his bedchamber.