Elizabeth froze on the step and turned. Without her hat and coat he could see the true extent of the damage the storm had wrought. Her hair was plastered about her face, her dress soaked through and sticking to every curve.
“I—” What? Why had he rushed in here, scaring the housemaid nearly to death? He could see her, from the corner of his eye, unsure if she should shut the door or call for help. Darcy was certain he looked like a madman, soaking wet and dripping all over the hall. He whipped off his hat. There at least, he could still pretend to be a gentleman.
She came down two steps. “Mr. Darcy?”
“I only wanted to say that…” What? He had not planned on saying anything at all. All he knew was that he must not let their conversation end. But it had to, didn’t it? She was not his. She would not ever be. He must accept it, no matter what agony it caused. “Captain Atwood is a good man,” he said at last. “I wish you all imaginable happiness.”
“Captain Atwood!” Another two steps, and there was a furrow on her perfect brow. “Think you that I am engaged to Captain Atwood?”
“Of course.”
“Gilly,” Elizabeth said, quite loudly. “Go and make the tea.”
“Miss?” The housemaid feigned ignorance.
“At once!” she said, her tone low and firm. The echoes of the mistress of a manor. What a wife she would make!
The housemaid scampered off.
Darcy stared at her, baffled, as she walked toward him. Two steps, then four, until she was close enough to touch, if he dared.
“Captain Atwood,” she said, in a voice little more than a breath, “is engaged to a girl from Cumbria he has loved since he was a child.”
The world went topsy-turvy.
“He thought they would never be able to marry,” she went on. “Because he had no money, while she did. He even asked her once, and was refused.” She paused. “As so often happens.”
His mouth was so dry, he could barely force out the words. “Then how did it come to pass?”
“She regretted it always,” said Elizabeth. “I am told—I am told there was an ache inside of her that would never fade.”
How well he knew that ache.
“And when he returned to Cumbria, even the sight of each other was agony.” She drew a tiny, trembling breath. “She did not know how to tell him—she thought he might hate her forever.”
“But he did not,” said Darcy.
“He did not,” repeated Elizabeth.
He never had.
Elizabeth continued the tale. “And as it happened, she knew nothing of the change in his fortunes, or what others might say about their match. All she knew was that he was the only man in the world for her.”
“I am sure that he felt precisely the same way.” Darcy’s hand lifted and found hers in the dark hall. Their fingers interlaced. “I am sure he would have married her, even if she had nothing. For she would still be herself, and that is a treasure with which no fortune can compare.”
“Mr. Darcy—good sir—”
“Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth,” he whispered, and his mouth was against hers again. It was better than the first time. She fell into his arms, and it was the perfect fit. He did not know how he had survived all these months without it.
But of course the housemaid reappeared, with the world’s most pathetic tea tray clattering with every step. She gasped when she saw them, and they pulled apart.
“Excuse me, miss,” she said, retreating, backwards, with a symphony of clatters and thunks.
Darcy realized they were still dripping, in the hall, and the Gardiners might be home any moment, and Bingley, and Jane… and Elizabeth looked up at him, her face flushed, her lips full and parted.
“Oh dear,” she said. “What ever shall we tell people? Gilly is quite given to chatter, you know.”
“We shall let Gilly say what she will,” he replied. “If only you will say the words I want to hear.”
Elizabeth gazed up at him, and in her expression was such a sense of wonder that he marveled they had not both floated off the floor. “I love you, Mr. Darcy. I have loved you all this time, yet I was far too scared to call it by its proper name.”
He wanted to kiss her again. He would kiss her again—and again and again, until they’d had more than their fair lifetimes’ worth. “I know precisely what you mean, but I am done with all of it now. Marry me. Not because of the housemaid or the balcony. Not in spite of fortune or family. Not because of anything but you and me. Marry me.”
“Yes.”
Darcy did not know if she had attempted to say more, for he was kissing her once more. He never wanted her out of his arms again.
And when they at last parted, Elizabeth laughed and fixed him with a playful look he knew he’d cherish for the rest of his days. “As for the housemaid, never fear. We all know how susceptible you are to colds.”
Epilogue
Mrs. Darcy wondered if she should ever learn her way around Pemberley. Its myriad rooms and halls and staircases were yet a mystery to her, and it had been nearly three weeks since she and her husband had returned from their honeymoon.
The housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, merely smiled and redirected her every time she found herself in the upstairs library instead of Georgiana’s music room. Georgiana, bless her kind and generous heart, claimed there were still doorways she had not herself explored.
Darcy, of course, scoffed at the idea and told Elizabeth that he would be happy to get lost with her in any wing of the house she so desired.
But not today. Today they traveled to Kympton to witness the wedding of Captain Atwood and his bride, Miss Margaret Carter. Elizabeth had had the honor of meeting Miss Carter and had been utterly charmed by her, as she had previously been by Miss Carter’s own Captain Atwood, all those months ago in London. With the happy couple settling down to live with his cousin in Dovenlea Park, Elizabeth was certain that there would be many comings and goings between the estates. Darcy’s famous aloofness had proved no barrier to Captain Atwood’s efforts, though her husband claimed he owed Atwood a very great debt.
“And what is that?” Elizabeth had asked.
“Making the poor choice not to fall in love with you when he had the chance.” Darcy had smiled. “I know from experience how very hard that must have been to accomplish.”
Her maid was just finishing dressing her hair when a letter arrived, and seeing that its origin was Yorkshire, Elizabeth wasted no time in tearing it open.
My dearest Lizzy,
I can hardly believe it’s been six weeks since we have seen each other, but I look forward to a lovely time at Pemberley when our tour of the north is at an end. My dear husband tells me it is the finest house in England, but of course we know your Mr. Darcy will have nothing less.
Today we went to Bingley Charitable Home to see the improvements we have set in motion. It is a fine sturdy house now, and I am sure the additions will only add to its many good qualities. Indeed, the library is coming along and the children were quite ravenous for the books and toys we brought. They are such darling souls, and I at last understand the warnings Caroline gave me about making sure not to adopt each and every one. I do not know if I can promise it.
Charles is calling, and I must dash. He says I am a better judge of cows than he is, and he would like to buy four for the children to have fresh milk every day. Am I so very good at it, Lizzy? Papa never before let me pick out the cows.
A thousand kisses until I see you again!
Your sister,
Jane Bingley
“And what has Jane to say?” Darcy asked, entering as she folded up the letter. Her maid departed quickly as the master of the house arrived.
“Details on how they plan to squander Bingley’s fortune.”
“Squander?”
“Well, in Caroline’s estimation. It appears to all be going to cows and libraries.”
“Sound investments, to be sure,” said Darcy. “I always did like a library. When you writ
e her, tell her I am available for consultation, if she so desires. I have a long list of titles I liked very well as a boy.”
“I should like to know which ones those are as well,” said Elizabeth, standing to meet him.
“I will ensure you are lost in the nursery next,” he said, and pulled her close.
Elizabeth thrilled as he kissed her. She was where she belonged, in Darcy’s arms.
Author’s Note
It didn’t start out this way. When I came up with the concept for this novel, I was mainly excited about the idea of giving everyone at Netherfield the same cold as Jane, advancements in germ theory since the Regency era being what they are. There have been many variations in which Mr. Darcy kisses Elizabeth on a balcony, but I thought it would be fun if I wrote one in which he wasn’t entirely in his right mind.
However, somewhere in the writing of this book, I began to jokingly refer to it as “Jane and Elizabeth do Sense & Sensibility”, mainly because I was sending the two girls to London, vaguely in pursuit of young men who had left them alone in the countryside. But as I wrote, I could not stop myself from including more shout-outs to that other novel, like balls in which there were public snubbings, desperate midnight letters, mistaken ideas about engagements, and, for the eagle-eyed, a line from Colonel Brandon himself. (Also, if you’re the type who likes to keep score about these things, I included a quote from Sanditon, in honor of the recently-announced new miniseries!)
Too, I realized that in this estimation I was casting sweet Jane as the dramatically passionate Marianne, and the sparkling, savvy Elizabeth as the calm and restrained Elinor—which of course, is not a very easy fit. Nevertheless, Jane, like Marianne, suffers through a very public romantic difficulty, while Lizzy’s heartbreak remains a secret.
It also gave me a chance to explore more fully the characters of Jane and Bingley, who in the original novel are mainly depicted as sweet and passive and persuadable. What would make such a trusting person start to take more charge of their own lives? What might wake them up to the wide world beyond their family circle? And what might drive them on to be better stewards of that world, once they discovered it?
I owe oodles of thanks to all the usual suspects who helped me in the writing of this book, most particularly Janine, who tells me what does and does not work in the Regency, and Jacki, who keeps me honest as to commas.
I hope you enjoyed this variation. Look for my other takes on Pride & Prejudice:
In Darcy’s Debt
In Darcy’s Place
About the Author
The Confessions of Gwendolyn Dash
1. The first time I read Pride & Prejudice, I was sixteen years old. When Mr. Darcy proposed to Lizzy, I was so shocked I fell off the couch.
2. My video library contains four separate filmed versions of Pride & Prejudice, and that doesn’t include modern retellings or the one with the zombies.
3. I dressed in a regency gown for my high school prom. To my eternal disappointment, my date did not wear tails (no kiss for you!)
4. I own no fewer than six teapots.
Learn more at http://gwendolyndash.com
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