by Kate Bedlow
He seemed to read her thoughts. “I liked Georgiana very much, and we would have made a proper go of it. But I was never head over heels for her, you know. I applaud her for giving me the boot.”
“Well, at least you are not breaking your heart over her.”
“No, I am not.” He stopped and looked at her. “Makes me feel rather a cad, thinking on it.”
“So she will have Mr. Midwinter and remain at Pemberley after all.” Lydia sighed. “La, I shall miss London society! I suffer no illusions of being invited to the best soirées without Miss Darcy of Pemberley at my side.”
“They are all right snobs. I could never have withstood the Season if not for you.”
“We were glad of your company.”
He looked at her strangely. “I did not mean that in the plural. I meant you, Lydia. You have been… like something out of mythology. Not the Furies exactly. I know! You have been like Athena’s shield. I always felt safe walking among the mantraps set out by the mamas of the ton when you were there. You are a wonderful friend.”
“It is quite chivalrous of you to say so.”
“Not at all. There was something you told me at the Twelfth Night ball: You don’t often get what you give, but you never get what you don’t give. I have pondered those words often since. You give, Lydia. In unexpected and useful ways. That is what makes you a wonderful friend. Nothing chivalrous in pointing out the truth.”
“It was easy to be a friend to Georgiana. I shall not find another like her.”
“What will you do? I cannot imagine you dropping out of society. You were made for society.”
“I’ll do all right. I was once in trade, you know. Perhaps instead of playing in society, I will serve it. Open a shop in Bond Street or some such. Oh, do not look at me in such horror! I would not sew, per se. I would be a designer of fashions. Very exclusive, don’t you know. Only the finest clientele, and my fees shall be exceedingly dear.”
Kett was apparently appalled by the notion, stunned and speechless. She laughed and stood up on her tiptoes to pull his head down so she could kiss his cheek.
“Goodbye, Lord Somersea. The best of luck to you.”
“Look here, Lydia—Miss Bennet—Lydia. I say, hold a minute!”
Lord Somersea faced her with a very strange expression, as if he were thinking very hard. Then he relaxed and smiled brightly.
“Why don’t you marry me instead?”
“What?”
It was as if the world shifted. Everything was the same. But everything was different.
“I promise, upon my honor, you may do whatever you like. Make costumes for all your friends—but because you like to, not because you feel you must.”
“I don’t know…”
“Marry me, Lydia. By God, Georgie was right!”
“About what?”
“Marry me, and I shall tell you.”
“Miss, you will catch your… you will catch a chill if you sit in the window.”
“I want to look at the garden, Gilliam.” Georgiana had not sat in her bedroom’s window seat in years, but she needed to see the world outside her sickroom and was too weak yet to leave it.
“Then you will be warm there.” Her maid bundled her in blankets and two shawls, grumbling the whole time.
“What a grouch you’ve become. Hovering so.”
“Yes, I suppose I have.”
Then Georgiana saw Gilliam’s tears and grasped her maid’s hand. “I knew you were there all the time I was ill. You were my rock, Gilliam.”
“Well…”
“But I am on the mend now and you must care for yourself a little while. I see that you are worn out. Go down to the kitchen. Eat. And then I want you to get some sleep.”
“But your tea.”
“I am not hungry. Go, Gilliam. You have earned your rest.”
The days lasted longer in late April, but Georgiana could feel twilight’s approach. The light bended somehow and in the garden, now in full bloom below, all the many colors began to fade.
As she had told Gilliam, the sickness was gone. She felt weak, but that would pass. Her entire life lay before her. Would Drake come? She was fairly certain he would. Lord Somersea was gone, and she would not regret sending him away, even if she was wrong about Mr. Midwinter.
She wondered how long it would take Kett and Lydia to discover they loved each other.
She chuckled at the thought when her chamber door opened. “Gilliam, I really need nothing more. You fuss too much.”
“Impossible.”
It was not Gilliam.
“No one could fuss over you too much.” Drake stood just inside her room and closed the door without hesitation. His smile was as confident as his stride. “I just spoke with Lydia Bennet.” He spoke as he came into the chamber, to the window, to Georgiana. “She informed me that she has stolen Lord Somersea away and that I had better come to you and console you.”
“She is a very good friend indeed.”
He knelt down, took her hands in his, and looked up at her. “Marry me, Georgiana. I still cannot give you the grand life you—”
“I do not wish for a grand life. I never did.”
“And I have always known that. But I would have had no pride in myself as a man if I had come to you poor. It is a fault, I daresay, but one I am willing to own.”
“But you are not poor now.”
“I am not rich. But I am not poor. And I love you dearly, Georgiana. To my very soul. It might count for something.”
“It is the greatest treasure of all.”
Drake kissed her then, and it was more wonderful than in her memory.
On the very next Tuesday afternoon, Fanny Gardiner Bennet Harrington was sitting with Lady Lucas and Mrs. Philips at the Beau Bon-Bon in Meryton, discussing whether the Mrs. B should be renamed the Mrs. H. Someone’s daughter was reading from The Castle of Otranto. (No one was ever so good as Mary had been.)
Suddenly the door flew open, and a rough-looking young man bounded into the room, rudely interrupting the performance. “Mrs. Harrington! I have a special express for Mrs. Harrington!”
Fearing the worst, Fanny ripped open the message there where she sat. As she read, her eyes grew larger and larger, and at last she squealed in rapture.
“Lady Somersea, how wonderful that sounds! A marchioness! I knew how it would be! Oh, Lydia, my darling girl. I knew you could not be a heroine of the realm for nothing!”
Georgiana married Drake at St. Mary’s church the third week of May, and a week later Lydia married Lord Somersea in London by special license. Both ceremonies were quite private, the bride and groom of each serving as witnesses to the other. They made sure the announcements in the newspaper included that fact.
The couples embarked upon their wedding journeys as one party.
They visited Paris.
Epilogue
One day while Georgiana and Mr. Midwinter were still away on their wedding trip, Darcy went into Pemberley’s library to look for one of his volumes on the work done in Egypt by Napoleon’s scientists and surveyors.
Elizabeth and Mrs. Annesley were there, discussing an offer Gwennie had received from one of her deceased husband’s relatives, asking her to become a governess to four boys now that Miss Darcy had got married. Darcy pretended he had not heard a thing.
“My love, is there any tea left in that pot?” He sat down as if to join in the ladies’ tête-à-tête.
“I am afraid not,” Elizabeth said. “But I shall ring for more if you like.”
“Excellent. Thank you.”
The ladies exchanged curious glances but said nothing as he settled into the chair as if it were the most natural thing in the world to share the gossip of the day. He chuckled inwardly.
“I rode over to Lambton earlier to see how the new vicar is getting on.”
Mrs. Annesley perked up, and inwardly he smiled. It was exactly as he had hoped.
“Mr. Bonney was out, but Mrs. Pruitt had a few wo
rds to say. She seems to approve of her new master very well.”
“I am glad to hear it,” Elizabeth said. “She had practically adopted Mr. Midwinter as a son. I did not think she would get over losing him.”
“She is now quite protective of Mr. Bonney,” Darcy said. “She suspects he might be in the way of making a match, now that he is vicar and has a decent living.”
“Is that so?” Elizabeth squinted her eyes at him. She did not know yet what he was about, but she was willing to play along. She was such a good sport! “Well, yes, I suppose so,” she said. “Five hundred a year is a very decent sum, even if he and Mr. Midwinter share the expense of the new curate.”
“I do not think it will be long before we hear of the vicar’s engagement. Those were her very words to me,” Darcy said. “He is a fine young man, and handsome enough to do the trick, despite that red hair—oh, do pardon me, Mrs. Annesley. But that is what she said.”
Mrs. Annesley’s face pinked.
“Someone has caught his eye already?” Elizabeth said.
“It is more the opposite,” Darcy said. “She said, and I quote again: Mrs. Grenway has sent cakes enough to fatten him up for the slaughter. But Mrs. Pruitt did not seem to approve.”
“Bah!” Elizabeth scoffed. “It is perhaps wrong of me to say it, but Alice Grenway is not the sort of woman who makes a man feel at ease in his own home.”
Mrs. Annesley’s blush deepened.
“Mrs. Pruitt might agree with you, my dear, but I did not have the chance to find out. Mr. Bonney returned just at that moment and we got to talking of other things.”
“I see.”
“Which reminds me—Mrs. Annesley? I wonder if you might have the time to do me a great favor.”
Gwennie and Elizabeth both looked at him as if he had asked Mrs. Annesley to fly to the moon, which should not surprise him as he had never once asked Georgiana’s companion to do anything in all the years she had been at Pemberley.
“Of course, Mr. Darcy. I should be only too glad to be of service.”
“Wonderful.” Darcy hoped he was nonchalant when he handed her the book he had taken down from the shelves. “Would you deliver this volume to the vicarage? I promised to send it over to Mr. Bonney, but I would not like to trust it to a servant.” It was a white lie. All Pemberley’s servants were trustworthy, or they did not remain long at Pemberley. “Mr. Rook will let you have a footman to accompany you, and I have asked that Miss Georgiana’s—Mrs. Midwinter’s—curricle be brought round for you.”
“I… yes, sir. Of course, sir.” Mrs. Annesley accepted the book and strode off on her mission.
Elizabeth stared at Darcy until the library door closed, then said, “Mr. Darcy, what on earth are you up to?”
In August, Charles Fitzwilliam Darcy was born, and all was wonderful with the world.
In November, Gwennie Annesley and Mr. Jeremy Bonney were married in a quiet ceremony at Lambton church, performed by Mr. Midwinter. Mr. and Mrs. Midwinter gave the wedding breakfast at St. Mary’s rectory.
In the end, with the myriad shifting of households and names, it was Mr. Darcy’s match that gave all a harmonious glow and the puzzle its final piece, for only when Gwennie Annesley was happily settled could Georgiana and Lydia—and everybody, really—truly feel their own joy.
The End
Darcy’s Match
Kate Bedlow
Author’s note: I hope you enjoyed Darcy’s Match. I had so much fun writing it! I “stole’ Drake Midwinter from my novella An Affectionate Heart which is not set in the Fair Trade universe, but I always knew he and Georgiana would find their way to each other.
Sign up for my mailing list, Bedlow Park, to be first to find out when the next Kate Bedlow book comes out, and I’ll send you a free copy of The Wager, the story where Carley Quartermaine made his first appearance.
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Kate Bedlow
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