Mr Darcy's Mail-Order Bride

by J Dawn King

  She adored sitting on the porch and watching the distant river flow, the variety of birds soaring above the canyon looking for fish swimming near the surface of the waters below to capture and take back to their nest to nurture their young. She loved salmon, and she loved Dan and Melvin for using their Sunday after services to sit on the banks of the river until they brought four of them home.

  And she cared deeply for Maggie’s quiet strength of purpose and her gift of calm.

  “Are you settling in?” asked the housekeeper.

  Elizabeth wanted to give an unladylike snort. “I suppose.”

  “Richard asked me to tell you what a fine man he is.” Maggie chuckled. “He’s incorrigible, that young man. Yet there’s not a mean bone in his body. He’s a trusted friend to your husband, and you couldn’t have a better man standing by your side when there’s trouble.”

  “He asked you to say all that, did he?” Her snicker matched the housekeepers. “I am sure you are correct. I am also sure that it’s been far too long since a woman has been in charge of the household, and that Richard has come and gone as he pleased. How long did you say Mrs. Darcy has been gone?”

  “Will is twenty-seven almost twenty-eight, so it has to be fifteen years—almost sixteen.” Maggie set the pot down on the table and sat in the rocker next to Elizabeth. “In truth, I can’t say that Anne Darcy ran the house. She quietly went about what needed done and focused all her attention on her son.”

  “Well, I’m certainly not quiet.” Elizabeth hoped she knew her strengths and weaknesses, what her true character was like.

  At that, laughter burst from both women. It was several minutes before they could speak again.

  “And I am very glad of it,” were Maggie’s final words before she stood, picked up the coffee pot, and went back inside, leaving Elizabeth to ponder all she was learning.

  Possibly it was a result of the opium drops he was still taking, but whatever the cause, Will’s dreams were imprinted on his mind to the extent that he could remember the smallest details long after he woke.

  In the latest, Elizabeth had the foreman haul a hot barrel of tar up the stairs while Maggie followed with a pillowcase overflowing with feathers. His wife’s hair had been down, the chocolate waves reaching to the small of her back. Fire was in her eyes as she wielded a broomstick like a sword held by one of King Arthur’s knights of the round table.

  “Tell me the truth or you shall live the rest of your life with my broom handle lodged between your ears,” she chanted as she walked around his bedroom. “Tell me the truth! Tell me the truth!”

  Each time he tried to speak, all three characters surged towards him, and he hated to admit even to himself that he cowered in fear. Finally, Richard rode his horse through the door with his pistols drawn and a gleam in his eye.

  “Don’t worry, Will. I’ll protect you. I’ll take this wild woman away from your home and install her in mine.”

  “You can’t, cousin. We are man and wife,” he replied to the tall man on the horse.

  “Ah, but you haven’t consummated your marriage, so she is free to claim a husband worthy of her.”

  “And you think that is you?”

  “Of course it is. I’m the one with the pistols.”

  His own screams of “NO!” had woken him as he swiftly surveyed his room for any company who might have been lurking in the corners waiting to pounce. He decided then and there that, no matter the pain, he would be taking no more laudanum.

  Before his heartbeat had returned to normal, Elizabeth came rushing into his rooms.

  Her eyes moved from his head to his toes before she lifted the blankets from his foot to determine that his leg was still where it had been when she had walked out of the room an hour before. His covers were half on the floor and his pillow had been flung into the far corner.

  The afternoon sun filtered through his window and he noted dust particles dancing in the beam. Maggie would not be pleased to see them when they finally settled on whatever surface they landed upon. What an odd thought.

  “Will, what has happened?”

  “I am not sure, to be honest.” He clearly remembered their hasty words and then eating his lunch. He must have fallen asleep soon after. He took a mental survey of his body and realized the nightmare had been only that, nothing more. In the aftermath, he felt foolish.

  “I was on the front porch when I heard you. Do you need anything?”

  She was graciousness itself, this woman who was his wife.

  “I dreamed my cousin came to take you away so he could marry you instead of me.” He couldn’t believe he said it out loud and wished to take the words back as soon as they crossed his lips.

  “Richard?”

  “Yes.”

  She snorted. “Highly unlikely.”

  It was not the response he’d expected.

  “Elizabeth,” he ran his hands over his face, wiping away the rest of the dream. “I’m sorry for being grumpy and taking my frustrations out on you. I’m sorry for saying your sister’s name in my sleep, though I am absolutely sure I was not imagining romance when I said it.”

  “Then what were you imagining?” Elizabeth was still standing next to his bed, but stood poised to leave, as if she was unsure of the man addressing her now. “Can you recall your dreams?”

  He felt the heat on his face and knew a tale-tell blush covered his cheeks.

  “Yes, I remember.” Thankfully, rather than blurting out his nightmares, he considered his words carefully, but honestly. “In truth, your sister is very similar to my mother and Georgiana in looks. When I read the letters to Bingley I had assumed were written by her, she became even more like my mom in my mind; someone fair in coloring, brimming with kindness, with an intelligent mind. As I struggled in the first days after my accident, when I was receiving large amounts of medicine, it was easy to confuse the two women.”

  He could see she was stunned.

  “You thought Jane was your mother?”

  “In my dream I did and I didn’t, if that makes any sense.” Darcy cleared his throat and reached for the mug of water next to his bed, realizing Elizabeth had to have put it there for his comfort. “As to how I reacted at the hotel—I don’t know why I said and did what I did.”

  “So that we are perfectly clear, you are aware that I wrote each of the letters Bingley received. Correct?”

  “Yes. I am aware.”

  “And you wrote all four letters to Jane?”

  “I did.”

  “Then I believe we are two of the stupidest people on the planet, Will Darcy.”

  To say he was shocked would have been an understatement. “I fully comprehend why you would think that of me, but why include yourself in that statement?”

  Elizabeth finally sat down next to his bed.

  “Because we both allowed our disappointment to color our reactions.” Elizabeth sat back in the chair and crossed her arms over her middle. “Why is what we did any different from imagining ourselves in love with a fictional character in a book whose dialogue touched our heart?”

  He thought over her words and quickly concluded she was correct.

  “Will you forgive me?” He couldn’t keep the pleading tone from his voice. Her response would, in a great way, determine how they would go on from there. If she shunned his efforts to wipe that particular slate clean, then it didn’t bode well for all the other errors he’d committed against her.

  A long time passed before she responded, and his nervousness and anxiety increased with each second. This was a turning point in their relationship—a beginning.

  “I am not one to hold onto anger, Will, but your comments were demeaning, and they hurt me deeply. My life changed much with our marriage, but yours changed only with your accident. I went from being a second daughter with many freedoms to a wife who is waiting hand and foot on you in the manner of a servant. I have been ignored by you as I go about my tasks and am left to wonder what you would have done had it been me h
urt and bedridden a day after we wed.”

  “I find it embarrassing to have you…well, you know.” He couldn’t recall ever being so disconcerted.

  “And I don’t?” Elizabeth was incredulous. “I’d never seen a naked man before your accident, and I was quite unsure how a man’s body functioned. Being raised in the city, I didn’t even have boy farm animals to learn from.”

  “Boy farm animals?” He couldn’t keep from smiling.

  “Oh, do not laugh at me. You understand my meaning.” She reached over and straightened a fold in the top blanket. “My parents suffer in their marriage from a lack of understanding of each other. I always wanted… I always dreamed… I hoped my marriage would be much different; that I would find a man I could respect and hold in affection.”

  “I am not that man, am I?”

  “No, sir, you are not.” She stood to leave, and suddenly he didn’t want her to go. Then his bodily urges hit him and he could have cursed himself for his bad timing. How could she not conclude that his sole reason for desiring her company was to help him ease nature?

  He had never felt so low about himself as he tilted his head towards the bed pan.

  Elizabeth lifted her shoulders and dropped them with a sigh. Grabbing the pan, she lifted the covers and helped him situate himself.

  In his mortification, he regressed to his earlier conduct and said nothing.

  Late that night he woke to find her sleeping in the chair next to his bed. It was a new moon. The only light in the room came from the candle she had left on the table she had pulled away from his bed. Beside the flickering flame was the book of poetry she had been reading to him. Tucked underneath was a dime novel. He was surprised Elizabeth was so inclined. He hadn’t read one in years, though he had enjoyed them when he had.

  Her hair draped in waves over her stark white gown and robe. He felt a chill in the air on the back of his hand and wondered if she was warm enough. No fire had been started, and he recalled the day had been warm with no rain since the morning. None of the men would have made the effort. He hesitated to wake her to find out.

  Her lashes were thick against her cheekbones, and her skin glistened with good health in the firelight. For the first time, he felt shame at insulting her looks. Not only was she a pretty woman, she was stalwart when under trial. He had an idea she would be fierce in protecting those she cared for.

  Would she ever care for him? He scratched at his almost week old beard, surprised at himself. Under normal circumstances, he thought through every decision. Richard had long accused him of worrying every little matter to death. Yet, by the third letter written to Bingley, his treacherous heart moved him to act in a manner quite unlike himself so that by letter number four, he offered marriage to a complete stranger.

  He’d never stopped to consider the qualities he’d wanted in a wife before. What a stupid fool he was! Elizabeth knew clearly how she wanted her marriage to go, and he found he genuinely wanted the same.

  Richard had been right, or was it Reynolds? His father had not shown attention to his family, and both he and his mother had suffered for it. Was he destined to be a chip off the old block? No. If he acted like his father, it would be a choice he made. He was determined not to follow in the footsteps of a man who shoved his children from his life.

  “Will, what has you so disturbed?” Elizabeth whispered into the quiet.

  He looked directly at her and knew she deserved the truth.

  “Women are strange creatures.”

  “And men aren’t?” she automatically defended.

  Well, that hadn’t started well.

  “I meant that women are different from men.”

  She giggled. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  He rolled his eyes and wondered at being unable to speak clearly to the woman sitting next to him. Then he realized—that was the crux of the matter.

  “Until I went back east to university, I had not spent much time around females other than Maggie and my sister. Occasionally my Aunt Catherine de Bourgh, my mother’s eldest sister, would come to Pemberley to tell my father and me how to live our lives and run our ranch. Father soon ran her and my cousin Anne off, and I haven’t seen them in years. Richard’s mother had a much easier manner about her, but she also was determined to have us under her control. Therefore, I was quite unprepared for the ladies I met in Connecticut. England was no different. The young women seemed to have a set of rules I never understood.”

  “How so?”

  “I wasn’t as polished as the city gentlemen, and I couldn’t seem to understand when they were serious or teasing. Because of this, I was called to account several times for speaking too plainly and apparently I caused offense often enough that I finally avoided your sex altogether.”

  Her soft chuckle moved him to continue.

  “You see, I could tell my mother absolutely anything, and she would listen. If I found her crying in her room, I always seemed to know that putting my arms around her and later bringing her a flower was the right thing to do.” He huffed out a breath. “With any other woman, I am tongue-tied.”

  Again, she chuckled. “You have certainly given me reason to believe you, Will, but I wonder at the man who was able to craft such winsome words to my sister. Your letters…they gave me hope that someone in the world would understand me and would desire a woman like me.”

  He closed his eyes and pondered his reply. Finally, he spoke. “During the four years I was gone to school, I wrote almost daily to my sister. Yes, it would have been easy to share only the basic details of my activities with a six-year-old, to skim the surface of my life. However, I wanted her to remember me, to come to know the real me. Therefore, I learned to write from my heart. My father never replied to my letters. I thought by writing the way I did, he would also come to know the man I was becoming by reading everything I’d written to her. When I heard Georgiana had been moved permanently to live with the Fitzwilliams, I kept it up and lost hope of ever hearing from my father.

  “He lived only four months after I returned home. I’d hoped during that time that he realized I was a better man.” He took in a deep breath. “Yet within minutes of my arrival at Pemberley, I was relegated to the same position I had held before I’d left. Later, Maggie told me that she and my aunt had been the ones to read my letters to my sister, not my father.”

  “Why is your sister not here, Will?” Elizabeth kept her voice soft and even. He appreciated her consideration for his feelings. “Is something wrong that she can’t return home to you?”

  “There is nothing wrong with Georgiana.” Now it was he who was defensive. “My sister is as sweet as my mother ever was. But she’s sixteen years old, and I know nothing about helping a girl her age along.”

  “Does she like living in Portland?”

  “I believe so. She never complains.”

  “Does she miss Pemberley?”

  “She has said so on occasion.” Last summer, she had suffered from a bad decision that if found out, could bring reproach on her good name and the Darcy name. Her letters since had been cryptic and she no longer expressed her opinions easily. He hadn’t actually been in her company for over a year. How had it been so long?

  “Then let her come home, Will.” Elizabeth’s voice was firm, though she had cloaked her words so they didn’t come out sounding like a command. “The Bingleys are leaving to bring his sister back to Oregon, and I am desperate for a sister. You and I, we can do this together. Time passes so quickly and, within no time at all, Georgiana will be looking for a home of her own. Then she will forever be the concern of someone else.”

  He thought to tell his wife about Georgiana’s disappointment, but he didn’t want her to think ill of his sister—not if they were going to bring her to Pemberley.

  “I will ask that you write to the Fitzwilliams and to my sister so they know our desire to have her move back home. Maggie has the address and Reynolds can see it goes out either on the stagecoach to Portland o
r on the steamboat. She should have it by the day after tomorrow at the latest.”

  Up to this point, he had not witnessed a smile that bright on his wife’s face, and he was amazed at how it transformed her. She is beautiful!

  The next day the Bingleys arrived for a visit.

  Bingley went right up to his friend while Jane joined Elizabeth in the rocking chairs on the porch.

  “Are you happy, Jane?” Elizabeth needed no answer as her sister radiated joy.

  “Deliriously so. And you?”

  Elizabeth struggled with how to answer. On the off chance they spent any time with the Bennets or Gardiners, she didn’t want her family to worry.

  “Having Will’s accident happen so soon after we wed has been a challenge, I will admit. However, I spent several hours with him yesterday making plans for our future. His decision to bring his sister to Pemberley makes me very, very happy.”

  “I am so delighted for you.” Jane was everything good. She had never understood meanness and longed for everyone to love everyone else. In her mind there was no one who deserved any less.

  “Come and say hello to Will, sister. I’m certain he would find pleasure in your company.”

  In truth, Elizabeth wanted to see how her husband reacted. Although some progress had been made the day prior, it was minimal and there was still no basis for trust.

  As for her seeing Charles Bingley? She was completely unaffected, which was as she’d expected. The man was apparently a good husband to her favorite sister. That was his most attractive quality in her mind.

  When they walked into the room, Charles stood from the chair and moved towards his wife. Elizabeth watched Darcy closely, but saw no evidence of discomfort or desire on his face. She was immensely grateful.

  “Mr. Darcy, you don’t need to stand in my presence,” Jane sweetly insisted.

  Darcy shook his head slightly and looked to Elizabeth, who raised her shoulders and tilted her head to the side. He would not be able to try getting up on his legs for at least another two and a half months. He’d assumed Jane would understand.