Switched

by Iris Lim

  Yet, in a small, distant corner of his heart – Darcy allowed himself to hope. Perhaps Miss Bennet shall be a wonderful bride, perhaps a wonderful sister.

  Perhaps he may indeed find true love after all.

  • • •

  “I can't claim to understand the practice, surely. To endure a day and a half, of good road, nonetheless, simply to meet the men for a fortnight? The thought is ludicrous,” Elizabeth complained, the back of her head dropping repeatedly against their humble, rattling carriage. Mama had nearly fainted with joy when Aunt Gardiner had pronounced her intent. A simple visit to Derbyshire had magically turned to two lifelong pairings – at least, as Mama would have it. Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “We, the brides, do not even have the right to meet our men, and yet we are tasked to cross the whole country for the exchange. We are blessed to have our dear, discerning aunt as our matchmaker – but that fact cannot ensure that the men do not present themselves inaccurately. What if scars were to be below the neck rather than above it? What if anger is carefully repressed for the duration of the request?”

  “Your imagination, Lizzy, would be the death of me yet.” Aunt Gardiner laughed, handsome eyes bright on her youthful face. “I assure you that Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley are everything admirable.”

  “Aunt Gardiner would not have it any other way,” added Jane, looking ever angelic. The new blue gown heightened the serene azure of her eyes. “I am quite certain we shall like our grooms.”

  “Like them, perhaps we shall,” Elizabeth replied. Her eyes wandered towards the shifting views outside the shaking window. The trip, regardless of intent, was thrilling indeed. “We cannot, however, be certain that we would love them. One comes across one's life partner entirely too randomly to safeguard such affection.”

  “Our pairings are not by chance, Lizzy,” Jane rebuked softly. “If Aunt Gardiner vouches for these men, then I am sure they are everything that is good and upright.”

  “But she has only met them once. Anyone can establish great impressions if he commits himself to do so. This Mr. Darcy –”

  “Is as wealthy as he is wise,” Aunt Gardiner finished with a smile. “The odds are favorable, Lizzy, for you and Jane, as well as your mother, to find contentment in these arrangements.”

  Elizabeth, unable to argue her aunt's good sense, sighed instead. “I do not doubt that these gentlemen are honorable. You would not beckon us here if they were not.”

  The matchmaker nodded sagely.

  “But, Aunt Gardiner,” Elizabeth reached for the older woman's hands and gripped them tightly, “do you not hope for more for your nieces? Could we not at least meet them, see them, before the exchange?”

  “The practice protects you, Elizabeth, and there is no cause for alarm,” Aunt Gardiner assured with a pat on Elizabeth's hands. “If your groom were to be disrespectful of your wishes before the first meeting, I pray you – flee to Lambton immediately. I shall bar the door myself.”

  The reminder that she had every right to revoke the pairing as her groom comforted Elizabeth slightly. There was, at least, no reason to resign herself to this pairing for life so instantly. Two weeks were short – but sufficient – to know a man's character. She could seek another pairing unscathed if her first one did not result in a mutual choice to maintain.

  “You worry of love, Elizabeth, when you have no reason to fret.” Aunt Gardiner's tones were wise and soothing. “No profession of love is remotely expected until the second meeting.”

  “The confirmation,” Elizabeth muttered, knowing the system far too well from Mama's ceaseless repetitions. Oh how their mother would exclaim that her daughters would all have their pairings revoked! It was as if she believed her own children unable to maintain a man's love. “If a couple chooses to maintain at the first meeting – they shall confirm their vows another six weeks hence.”

  “You know almost as well as I.” Aunt Gardiner smiled. “I dare say you shall make quite the matchmaker.”

  The statement led Elizabeth's thoughts back to the hilarity of it all, and she laughed quite loudly in the carriage. “See, is not the practice nonsensical? How are we to serve sufficiently as matchmakers with only a year after our own exchanges? One could hardly understand marriage after so short a time.”

  The twinkle in their aunt's eyes was difficult to miss. “Perhaps we can discuss the matter after your first year.”

  Chapter 2

  The abundance of candles, surely intended to induce more romance than fear, brought uncanny warmth upon the room – and Darcy shifted his cravat for the third time tonight. He adjusted his feet warily, shuffling his weight from one foot to another. The ability to revoke upon the first meeting may permit many men to undergo multiple exchanges. For him, however, this initial exchange was particularly unnerving.

  Darcy cleared his throat, the tension reverberating throughout his chest.

  “I am ever so thrilled to meet them,” Bingley said a mere ten paces away.

  Darcy grunted his assent.

  His rare jealousy over Bingley's genial assurance railed especially hard in his heart tonight. Tonight, his life would change – dramatically so.

  “Gentlemen!” Mrs. Gardiner's appearance directed their attentions to the present. Her embroidered dress shimmered in the candlelight. “My nieces are ready, and I hope you find yourselves equally so.”

  Both men nodded solemnly, and she duly continued, “Please – direct yourselves to your partners wholeheartedly, observe and care. May your hearts and persons be open and honest to the discovery of how your fates entwine.”

  Darcy, throat tight, bowed gravely. Bingley mirrored his actions, though with a smile much wider.

  Mrs. Gardiner smiled. “It is my duty, good sirs, to stress your rights. Every individual in the exchange, regardless of gender, may choose to revoke the pairing upon the first meeting. The alternative to revoke or to maintain remains the sole right of every couple for the first fortnight – unless, of course, they have completed.”

  Her sharp, knowing look seemed to unsettle Bingley, and the man bowed shyly with a blush on his face. Darcy, certain in his vow to remain chaste until the choice had been made, remained standing firm and strong.

  “Now, please, assume your places.” Mrs. Gardiner directed smoothly. The men located themselves before their respective officiants. “Your brides shall appear shortly.”

  Despite every wish and profession to the contrary, Darcy found himself inhaling deep, powerful breaths to soothe his quickening heart. What, indeed, would be the lady's appearance? How would she conduct herself before others, before him, before Georgiana? The knowledge that this pairing was one of common societal expectation did little to calm his apprehension. Was Miss Bennet cheerful, glum, or witty? Was she –

  “Mr. Darcy – my niece,” Mrs. Gardiner presented, her right hand guiding a dark-haired young lady – eyes brightened by the white flowers in her hair – towards him, “Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Mr. Bingley, your bride – Miss Jane.”

  Darcy inhaled.

  The challenge and disquiet, barely concealed in the beautiful eyes before him, rushed straight into his heart. Her smile, lifted by her own deep breaths, beckoned one of his own. Beside him, he heard muffled noises that must be variations of Bingley's anticipated exultations over his bride. He did not even spare a glance at whoever that object might be.

  “Miss Bennet.” Darcy bowed before lifting his bride's hand to his lips. His kiss was brief, and the gentlemanly action seemed to bring her assurance, as her shoulders relaxed thereafter. “I am Fitzwilliam Darcy of Derbyshire – your groom.”

  The thought that Mrs. Gardiner was to be the one to do the introductions did not seem to occur to Darcy at all. He was fascinated – roused for a grand adventure. The reality of this woman before him drew him from the darkness of chosen solitude and thrust him entirely into the promised brightness of married life. Miss Bennet's clever gaze yielded hope, at least, that she thought of this exchange to be as daunting and exciting as h
e himself did.

  “Mr. Darcy, Miss Bennet,” the officiant began – and the simple ceremony was soon on its way.

  Darcy, for the first time in his quick, observant life – remembered nothing.

  • • •

  Her cold hands felt poignant tonight. Despite her many assurances to her sister throughout their journey to Derbyshire, Jane's own anxiety had risen steeply with every passing hour. She took care to hide the fact, of course. It would not do to fan Elizabeth's flames. A young woman so discontent with the practice before even meeting her groom ought not to be encouraged to rally against the system any more than she already did!

  “Miss Bennet – er – Jane,” the man beside her fumbled, eyes bright. Jane looked up at her groom. While the timid lamps illumined their carriage somewhat, the gentle rocking ensured that she only caught small glimpses of her smiling husband-to-be.

  “Sir.” She smiled. At the very least, her groom seemed handsome and kind. She had much for which to be grateful!

  “I am delighted to show you our home,” Mr. Bingley said as he used his warm hands to press against her own frigid ones. He gasped, perhaps surprised. “Your hands, milady! You must be freezing! Derbyshire evenings are cool. I – I had not thought to bring ladies' gloves. I – oh, please, I am a fool – how did I –”

  “Sir!” Jane clasped his hands back, amused, and cheered and comforted by his outburst. She smiled softly. “I have gloves aplenty, sir. It is I who lacked the foresight to keep them upon my person – rather than in my trunk. It is I who must apologize.”

  “Madam, please – no,” he passionately cried. The crestfallen look on his face did not seem to correspond to the inconsequential mistake. “I – I do wish to be of good service to you. I cannot bear the thought that I have already failed.”

  “Sir, you have not,” Jane quickly assured. She thoughtlessly brought his hands closer. “You have been everything kind and gentlemanly.”

  The blush on his face was extremely becoming, and Jane rejoiced in realizing that she had been paired with a man of goodness and sensitivity – unlike her own sarcastic father.

  “Mr. Bingley –”

  “Charles, please – call me Charles.” He looked up, face quivering in a hopeful half-smile.

  “Charles.” She smiled. Her heart warmed her body with its rising flutters.

  She had worried, slightly, if she would find her groom brusque or unkind. She knew that a man ought not to be measured by his outward charm – and she had vowed to like her groom regardless of his manners. But, of course, her girlish heart had hoped for a man both gallant and handsome – despite the odds against it. One ought to be thankful for a man who held one of those descriptions, often enough.

  “Jane,” her groom whispered her name with reverence.

  She met his eyes, heart overflowing. Heaven was kind indeed to give her a man with both such wonderful attributes!

  “Charles,” she whispered back, nerves awakening despite the late hour.

  “I hope you love our home,” said he, as the footmen urged the horses to slow.

  “I believe I shall.” She smiled, grateful beyond words. Indeed any home would be wonderful if she shared it with such a man.

  “Brigham Park shall have its mistress at last!” Charles exclaimed – before he moved to exit the carriage, turning quickly thereafter to assist her descent.

  Her hands, Jane found, had warmed themselves already.

  • • •

  He had tried not to smile – not to yield false hope in his precarious situation. It would not do to have his bride overly committed, after all, if he himself was content to merely observe.

  He had escorted her through every room of import upon arrival. He wished for her to adapt quickly – that he may watch her thoroughly. Her eyes had glistened at every tale he related, at every turn they took amidst the meandering halls. He wondered, momentarily, if she was a fortune-hunter at heart. Her sharp vision did seem unusually decisive in cataloguing his home.

  Our home – he had to remind himself. It was to be so, at least until the first meeting.

  “You tour most efficiently, sir,” she said with a smile when they turned the final corner of her tour.

  He slowed as he glanced down at the curious face that topped her short but sturdy frame. Again, he repressed his smile. “I wish for no misunderstanding. Pemberley, and all its possessions, shall be your home for the impending fortnight, after all. It is only proper that –”

  Darcy stopped altogether as the meaning of his own words became apparent. He turned quickly to face her. “I apologize, Miss Bennet, for my words. I had not meant, of course, that this – er, agreement would be destined to be thus short-lived.”

  He looked tentatively towards her face, expecting reprimand – or worse, insult.

  He was heartened by the amusement he found instead.

  “Mr. Darcy,” she stressed the formal address teasingly. He could no longer resist his smile. “I am by no means blinded, sir, to the wisdom of our system. I appreciate your consideration, most truly. I believe we shall get along quite capitally – for the weeks to come.”

  The subtle smile grew wider on his face, and he remembered once again how intriguing his bride was in truth.

  “I hope you enjoyed your tour, Elizabeth.”

  She smiled widely in return, and his heart replied with a fitful lurch that he immediately tried to repress – mostly in vain.

  “It is hard not to enjoy such personal stories – particularly of a place you love so well,” she said kindly, and he could not help notice that she mentioned nothing of Pemberley's material worth.

  “Fitzwilliam!”

  Darcy turned sharply at the unmistakable voice. Why was she awake and about?

  Georgiana left him no time to ponder as she made quick work of the hallway and very soon planted herself before the newly paired couple. She curtsied gracefully before Elizabeth. “Welcome to our home, madam.”

  That his sister would venture out from her recent desolation to greet their new addition comforted Darcy to no end.

  “Allow me, please,” he spoke with deep emotion. His hands flew one each upon the shoulders of the two ladies. “Elizabeth, this is Georgiana – my – our sister. Georgiana, Elizabeth – my bride.”

  The women seemed to instantly draw towards each other, leaving Darcy's hands to fall back to his sides.

  “It is wonderful to make your acquaintance, Miss Darcy.”

  “Thank you for joining our family,” whispered Georgiana faintly.

  So rare it was to hear his sister speak voluntarily that Darcy had not the heart to correct her. Perhaps, when Elizabeth rested, he would separately warn Georgiana of the dangers of raised expectations.

  “Do you stay here?” Elizabeth's voice was everything warm. Darcy found his bride alluding to the nearby door.

  “No, I do not,” Georgiana replied before he could, and Darcy found with some embarrassment that the question had not been directed at him, after all. It was a blessing that he stood behind Elizabeth at the moment. “This is – these –”

  Georgiana giggled softly before she continued, “These are your rooms, Elizabeth. I merely waited here to meet you. Please – forgive my impertinence.”

  “Oh I shall definitely forgive.” Elizabeth laughed. Darcy watched the ladies' exchange, fascinated. “You shall find, my dear near-sister, that I am the embodiment of impertinence itself. Your brother shall regret me soon enough, I'm sure.”

  While Darcy promptly recognized her mischievous tone, it seemed that Georgiana had not – and the young girl’s eyes were filled with instant tears.

  “I – oh, please – do not, I did not –” Elizabeth rushed to ameliorate.

  “Georgiana.” He reached for his sister, nearly pulling her into his arms. He decided against such deep displays before their new family and maintained a comforting distance. “Please – Elizabeth teases. I have no cause to regret.”

  His words soothed his sister, and her thr
eatened sobs were subdued into two sniffs instead. “Thank you, Fitzwilliam.”

  He nodded just as Elizabeth spoke, “Please forgive me, Miss Darcy, I truly only spoke in jest. I did not think –”

  “It is fine,” Georgiana assured softly, and Darcy rejoiced that petitioning a pairing had indeed been a sound choice. The young girl smiled. “I would dearly love to hear you tease some more. But, please – call me Georgiana.”

  Darcy noticed two seconds later that Elizabeth was looking at him, eyes wordlessly seeking permission. He nodded quickly.

  “Very well, Georgiana.” Elizabeth smiled warmly as she squeezed the former's hands. “I shall see you tomorrow. We shall have a wonderful breakfast, I'd like to hope.”

  “Yes – please.” Georgiana's smile grew, and so did Darcy's.

  “Now, off to bed you go, my dear.” He pressed a kiss to Georgiana's forehead. “Your new sister and I shall meet you again soon enough.”

  Georgiana's submissive bow resulted in a sweet and simple parting, and Darcy suddenly found himself all alone again with his blushing – no, flushing – bride.

  “Madam?” He asked first.

  “Please forgive me, sir, if I have spoken beyond what is proper.” Her smile was subdued, slightly more tense than it had been the moment previous. “I – I wished only to make your sister feel at ease.”

  Darcy could barely prevent himself from gushing every word upon his mind, to begin describing every moment of worry and pain and helplessness – and how they seemed almost to be magically absolved by the woman before him.

  But tonight was not the night for that.

  “Thank you, Elizabeth, for extending your friendship.” He kept his voice solemn.

  Elizabeth frowned slightly for a handful of seconds, perhaps thinking, before she smiled again. “Thank you, sir, for accepting an unusual bride.”

  Darcy found his smile both growing and tightening. No, this would not do.

  He would observe her with much better clarity in the light of day – not from nearly flirting outside their bedroom door tonight.