by Beau North
He pulled her to him, kissing her face, her hair, everywhere he could reach. “Ana, you are too good for me. I am nothing. No one.”
“Shhh, don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. You are someone. You are everything. I love you, Ari. I love you. I love you. I love you.” She punctuated each declaration with a kiss, on his cheek, his temple, his lips. Her fingers worked the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his warm skin against hers.
There was hair on his chest, curly and black. The sight of it woke something up inside of her, something living and hungry. She pulled her own shirt over her head and stood there half-naked, barely concealed in the little grove of trees while Orion cropped grass nearby. Georgiana didn’t care if anyone saw her. She felt like she’d been hiding her whole life. Hiding from herself, from the world. She wouldn’t hide from her own heart. Or from him. The cool morning air chilled her fevered skin, but she felt no need to cover herself. It was freeing, this feeling. Ari’s eyes, which always seemed to see right through her layers to her most essential self, had gone heavy and slightly unfocused. His hands trembled as he reached out to her, not quite touching.
“It’s all right, Ari,” she promised him. “I want you to touch me.”
That was all he needed to hear. He spread his gray wool coat on the grass and pulled her down with him. They knelt like children at prayer, knee-to-knee, heart-to-heart. As she’d suspected, she loved the feeling of his bare skin against hers. She wanted to feel all of it, all of him.
“Ana, wait,” he said. She paused. He took her hand and kissed it.
“Please don’t tell me you’re going to be chivalrous now.”
She felt his smile against the back of her hand, saw the light of it in his eyes.
“I am an honest man,” he said. “I don’t want a lover.”
Her brows rose. “No?”
He smiled, his thumb swiped at her bottom lip in a way that made her wild for him. “Not just a lover. I want…everything.”
Her face softened. “Then come, Ari. Take it. Take me. I’m already yours.”
“Why do you call me that?” They lay tangled together in his bed, the heat of his small room making them languid and drowsy. His hand made slow strokes on her arm, up and down, up and down.
He looked down at her, eyes glittering in the afternoon light. “Ana? Because I cannot say your full name.”
“No, not that. And you could say it perfectly well now, if you weren’t so horribly lazy. I meant the other name. Winter girl. Zima. Why do you call me that?”
He smiled and brought his nose to her hair, inhaling deeply. “Because you smell clean, like first snow.”
Her fingers traced the ugly numbers tattooed on his arm. How strange to think of her own comfortable life, when Ari had endured so much.
She said nothing, only wound herself tighter around him. What would William and Lizzie think if they knew? She thought of Lizzie and Richard, and how, according to Will, he’d been her “first love.” Feeling the rise and fall of Ari’s breath under her, she said a silent prayer that her first love was also her last.
26
May 15, 1954
Pemberley Manor
Lambton
My Ana,
I am practicing my English as you taught with this letter. I am watching you play piano, and you have no idea what I am writing. I love you so much like this. I only wish we could break the secret between us and fear for nothing. But then I love the secret. You are very beautiful, my own heart, when you stand naked for me. I want to paint you like that. You know I still fight with the words, but we know how to speak our love without them. I love what you told me as we waited for the train that day, that you are my winter and I am your spring. I love you, my girl, my Ana.
Ari
Elizabeth frowned down at the note in her hand.
“You okay?” her husband asked her.
“Ah, fine,” she said hastily, stuffing the letter back in the coat pocket. “I think I grabbed Georgie’s coat instead of mine.”
“You two should have stuck to your original color scheme,” Will said with a grin. “I love you in red.”
Elizabeth smiled at her husband, hoping he wouldn’t notice anything amiss. She didn’t like keeping things from him, but if what she just read was true, it wasn’t her secret to tell.
“I think I’ll just run back and get my coat,” she said hastily. “Georgie might want hers. You go make sure Maggie has her shoes on.”
He pulled her close and kissed her soundly. “Your wish is my edict, Mrs. Darcy.”
She laughed, but it sounded hollow to her ears. She was half-running toward her sister-in-law’s rooms as soon as she was out of her husband’s sight.
Oh, you sweet, foolish girl. You’ve gone and fallen in love, haven’t you? Elizabeth liked to think that her husband was an open-minded person, but he could be mulishly old-fashioned about certain things. She remembered the pleading and convincing she’d had to do to get him to agree to reunite Charlotte and Anne. If Elizabeth was comforted by anything, it was the certainty that young Mr. Prenska loved Georgiana. No man could write such intimate things, such adoring confessions otherwise.
Elizabeth followed the sounds of the piano back to the music room, where Georgie sat playing a dizzying piece of music she recognized immediately as Jerry Lee Lewis’s “High School Confidential,” a song that her husband couldn’t abide.
She closed the door behind her and hurried over to Georgiana, who saw her come in and switched to a more somber dirge, no doubt composed by a man in a powdered wig. A swell of sympathy rose in her, knowing the next few days might be difficult for her. She loved Georgiana, who’d only ever had servants, not companions. She saw herself in the young woman who’d loved foolishly once, only to spend years afraid to love again. In a sudden fit of affection, Elizabeth threw her arms around her sister-in-law, who’d lovingly and graciously made room for her in the Darcy’s tight little family unit.
“Lizzie!” Georgie exclaimed. “Good heavens, are you all right? Is something wrong with Maggie?”
Elizabeth sat down beside her, smoothing the young woman’s golden hair back. She reminded her of Jane in so many ways. Both were gentle and kind, and while Jane had no qualms in showing a bit of steel when she needed to, Georgiana had inherited the famous Darcy temper.
“Please don’t be cross with me, darling,” Elizabeth said, pulling off the coat. “I thought I’d grabbed my coat. I was up with Maggie all night last night and wasn’t thinking straight.”
“Oh, that’s all right.” Georgie took the proffered coat with a furrowed brow. Her slight, graceful features so like Richard’s that for a moment Elizabeth’s exhausted heart squeezed with the familiarity of it.
“Georgie, I saw the note in your pocket. From Mr. Prenska. I wasn’t trying to pry, as I said, I thought this was my coat.”
“Oh,” was all Georgiana said, looking down at the keys. “Did you tell William?”
“No. Because it should be you who tells him. Or, perhaps it should be the both of you. I’ll give you a day. But after that, I’ll have to tell him. Secrets can be a poison.” She brought her hand up to caress Georgiana’s face, thinking of that other, unnamed face once more. “Believe me, honey, I know.”
Georgiana’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “Lizzie, I’m afraid. What if it’s too much for him? What if I lose him forever?” Ah, it’s not Will she’s worried about then.
Elizabeth smiled gently at her. “Do you love him, Georgie?”
She nodded, tears slipping from her eyes. One splashed onto the piano keys. “I love him something awful.”
“Then he’s worth the risk,” she said. “Your brother only wants you to be happy. I only want you to be happy.”
“With a…carpenter?”
She could hear the unspoken word in Georgiana’s voice. The word that stood out like red ink on white walls.
“Would you have thought your brother could be happy with a cotton farmer’s daughter?”
<
br /> “Lizzie, you’re more than just that.”
“And so Mr. Prenska is more than just a carpenter. And if your brother balks, I’ll remind him that the Lord was also a Jewish carpenter.”
Georgiana’s elbows came down on the keys, making a loud sound like boonnng. She buried her face in her hands and groaned. “Lizzie, I beg you, do not say that!”
Elizabeth chuckled and rose from the bench, giving Georgiana an affectionate pat on the back. Impulsively, she bent down and kissed the girl’s cheek.
“For luck,” she said.
“I’m going to need it,” Georgiana returned, but she seemed somewhat calmer.
“Maybe not as much as you think. Now, I’d better run and catch Will and Maggie before they come looking for me. We’re supposed to be at the ribbon cutting for the new market in Lambton in”—she checked her wristwatch―“oh dear, ten minutes! I’ve got to run now, dearest. You’ll be fine, just fine.”
Elizabeth dashed out the door without giving Georgiana a backwards glance. “Soon,” she told herself as she raced through the house, out through the side door where her husband and daughter were waiting next to the car,“everything will be in the light soon.”
“Will, there’s something you should probably be prepared for.”
Darcy groaned and adjusted Maggie’s sleeping form in his arms. Her mouth popped open, a long line of drool dripping onto his coat. He smiled, not minding one bit. She’d been the star of the show at that evening’s ribbon cutting, adored and doted on by every old matron in Lambton.
“Don’t tell me you’re touring again. I can’t handle another week without you. That bed is much too big for one person.”
Elizabeth chuckled. “This isn’t about your cold feet and how you like to torture me with them.”
He took her hand with his free one. “I’m sorry, love. What should I be prepared for?”
“It’s…it’s about Georgie.”
He’d been afraid she was going to say that. He’d been thinking about what Elizabeth had told him days ago, that his baby sister (not a baby anymore) was in love, really in love this time. Part of him felt relieved that the damage Wickham had done was really and truly behind her. But the greater part of him was worried. If it was the young man who’d brought Maggie the wonderful toys…
“Prenksa?” he asked.
Elizabeth nodded, eyes downcast. “I think it’s serious, William.”
Darcy sighed. He had nothing against the young man, but he worried that his sister wouldn’t be accepted by his community, that it would be a more difficult and complicated life than she’d bargained for.
“She’s worried about telling you,” Elizabeth said.
He snorted.
“I don’t know why. You three girls have had the run of the house. It’s perfectly clear you’ll do whatever pleases you and to hell with anything I have to say.” The words were harsh but were said with such affection that Elizabeth leaned over and kissed his cheek.
“Your blessing is important to her.”
“Is it that serious?” he asked. “Shouldn’t this young man come to me?”
“Don’t be so parochial.” She sat back and started humming Nat King Cole’s “When I Fall in Love.”
“Don’t think you’re going to sing your way out of this, siren,” he said in a low voice so their driver couldn’t overhear.
Elizabeth giggled, resting her head on his shoulder. “Just be kind, William,” she said with a sigh. “Not everyone gets to know what this feels like.”
He kissed her crown of curls, Maggie’s warm weight a living reminder of Elizabeth’s wisdom.
“I know, Mrs. Darcy. I promise I’ll be good.”
She laughed again, softly so as not to wake Maggie. “That’ll be a first.”
May 16, 1954
Pemberley Cottages
Lambton
She went to him early that morning, before the sun had fully broken across the sky, taking Elizabeth’s bicycle instead of a horse or car. He opened the door to see her standing there, breath fogging in the sharp morning cold, and smiled, her breath catching at the sight of him in his undershirt, hair still tousled from sleep.
“Ana!” He looked around to make sure no one was out and about before pulling her inside the tiny cottage, his lips hot and urgent on her own. She melted into him, into his kiss, forgetting why she was there, only wanting to feel her skin against his. Only his hands on her arms kept her from slipping off her coat.
“Tell me, has something happened?”
“No. Well, yes. We…we have to tell my brother.”
He frowned. “You know I wanted to tell him for many weeks.”
“I know.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed the warm skin of his neck. “But I wanted you all to myself. And now, Lizzie’s found out and has given us a day to break the news to William.”
Ari walked to the cottage’s only closet and took out a clean shirt and put it on, buttoning it carefully. He went to the mirror and picked up his comb, attempting to tame his unruly hair.
“Let me,” Georgiana said. He seemed skeptical but let her take the comb. She didn’t know men’s grooming from a hole in the ground, but she knew she wanted to touch any part of him she could.
“I think I’m getting the hang of this,” she said, gratified that she’d managed to get his hair parted. “Do you have pomade?”
“Marry me, Ana,” was his reply.
She looked at him, startled. “W―what?”
“Marry me.”
“You know you don’t have to ask me that, just because you’re with me. I’m happy to be with you with or without it.”
His brow furrowed. “You don’t want to marry me?”
“Of course I do. But…can you marry a girl who isn’t…?”
He laughed and shook his head. “You mean my faith. Will it shock you if I tell you I stopped believing a long time ago? That doesn’t matter to me.”
“You say that now, but I don’t want it to be something you regret later, when you’ve had time to think about it. Besides, you still keep to your traditions.”
He made an impatient sound. “Life is short and nothing promised. I want to spend my life with you.”
She thought of Elizabeth’s words back in April. “It comes for us all at one point or another, Georgie. The important thing is what you do with the time you’re given.” Was this what she’d meant?
“You’re a good man,” Georgiana said, winding her arms around his neck. “The best man, really. And you shouldn’t have to give anything up for me. You hear that, Ari Prenska?”
He rolled his eyes, but laughed, leaning down to give her one quick kiss.
“Very well. Button your coat and come with me.”
A riot of butterflies burst free in her stomach. “Are we going to talk to my brother?”
“Not yet,” he said, putting his own coat on. “First, we go see the rabbi.”
May 16, 1954
Gramercy Park
New York City
He stared at Anne, his best friend in all the world, like he’d never seen her before.
“You can’t be serious.”
“But I am. We are,” she said gravely.
Richard shook his head. He got up and started pacing the floor. “Please. Don’t ask me to do this, Anne.”
“If not you, then who? Who do we love and trust more than you? Who kept us safe and together all this time, gave us a home?”
“That was Elizabeth’s doing more than mine.”
“Bullshit, Richard.”
“Anne, you know we’d have to…”
“I’m not an idiot,” Anne snapped. “I just happen to know that what Charlotte and I have would survive a few nights with you.”
“And what will you do?”
“I’ve made arrangements.”
“Don’t tell me you’re finally going to take pity on New York’s Finest.”
“Don’t be so mean to him,” Anne said. “He’s been a good friend
to me.”
Richard shook his head. “You’re going to break his heart, Annie.”
“Well, I suppose it’s my turn, isn’t it? You and William already did your worst, might as well let Annie have a spin!”
“That isn’t funny.”
“No, I don’t imagine Elizabeth thought it was either.”
“Leave her out of it.”
Anne sighed. “I mucked this up, didn’t I? I should have let Charlotte ask. She’s so much better at diplomacy than I am.”
He laughed gently and pulled his cousin into his arms. “You don’t need diplomacy, love. You’re one of us.”
She smiled and returned his embrace. “The Fighting Fitzwilliams, they’ll call us.”
He grinned down at her. “Until my dying day.”
“Does that mean you’ll do it?”
Richard sighed.
“Give me a few days to think about it?”
“Come in.”
Darcy looked up from the paperwork at his desk—plans for a new mill in Meryton that would process the Longbourn Cotton and bring some much-needed jobs to the town. In truth, his review of the plans had been halfhearted at best, waiting for this particular visit.
Georgiana came in first, followed closely by Ari Prenska. They came to stand in front of his desk, looking nervously at one another, then back to him. He would have laughed if he hadn’t been feeling the sharp pain of loss—his baby sister was growing up.
“William. You know Ari.”
Darcy nodded at the young man, who he’d always admired. A good worker and a quiet young man that hadn’t made any trouble. Until now, he supposed.
“Prenska,” he said by way of greeting. The young man (who was probably only a couple of years younger than him) stepped forward, hand outstretched.
“Mr. Darcy,” he said formally.
Darcy stood and took the man’s hand, looking at his sister with a raised brow. Well? that look said.
“William, Ari and I have something to tell you.”