Something: Old, New, Later, True: A Pride & Prejudice Collection

by Christie Capps

  This consideration led her to meditate on the sort of parents she and Darcy would be. For a certainty, neither of them would be indifferent. Miss Georgiana Darcy was cherished by her brother as he worried and fretted over her future. His quick action to retrieve his sister from the clutches of that wicked man, and the response to her own…assault, told more than words that he would be devoted to the protection of any and all children she would bear.

  Between the two of them, should they be blessed with daughters, they would instill the needed knowledge to teach them to be good decision-makers with an eye to a happy future.

  Their sons, should they have them, would be taught to care lovingly for those under their care as they work towards sustaining the life the Darcy family had held in Derbyshire for centuries.

  Despite not yet reaching the doorway, Elizabeth felt the power of this place. Sturdy. Substantial. Strong.

  Distracted by her thoughts, she was not aware the carriage had slowed to a stop.

  “Welcome to Pemberley.”

  Glancing out the window, Elizabeth spied what appeared to be a young lady wrapped in warm clothing from her head to her toes. Next to her was an older woman who smiled at the eager anticipation the bundle of fabric with sparkling eyes and a grand smile was displaying, in the narrow area between her scarf and fur bonnet, as they waited for the passengers to disembark.

  “Welcome to Pemberley.” The musical quality of the girl’s voice rushed towards them as she ran straight into her brother’s arms. “I am pleased to have you here, William, and Miss Elizabeth. I hope your journey was pleasant.” She looked towards Elizabeth. “I am very, very happy to have you here.” She stepped back and Elizabeth was surprised to see amazingly light blue eyes with long, thick lashes surrounding them, quite opposite to her brother’s dark orbs, though the lashes were the same. “Welcome home.”

  EIGHT

  Which such an effusive greeting, the seeds of a friendship were born.

  Within moments of removing their outer clothes, Mrs. Carr was shown upstairs by Pemberley’s housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, while Thornton moved with speed to get his master settled.

  Miss Darcy’s lashes shadowed her cheekbones as she lowered her chin in sudden shyness. The disparity between moods was the same as Kitty Bennet showed when she was around bold and brash Lydia and when she was without her youngest sister. Elizabeth warmed at having someone vaguely familiar with to spend hours enjoying pleasant company.

  “Poppet,” Darcy teased. “Who was that exuberant girl in my doorway? Might she have been a sprite who robbed your closets for enough garments to keep you…,” He cleared his throat, grinning despite the effort. “…I mean, her, of course, warm all winter long?”

  “I could not decide whether the green scarf or the blue one was the most appropriate to meet the woman you were courting and I delayed my decision long enough that I ended with no time to make up my mind, so I wore them both.” She looked to Elizabeth. “Do you have a preference?”

  Elizabeth giggled. “I, too, would have worn them both. Fashion should be practical, I believe.”

  “With that said,” Darcy’s rich tones interrupted their mirth. “You should know that I do not have a courtship with Miss Elizabeth.”

  Defeat covered Georgiana Darcy’s face as all gaiety disappeared. “I am sorry. I understood I was to gain a sister.”

  “She is my betrothed, you goose. We are to marry.”

  The transition was so rapid—from disappointed hopes to pure joy—Elizabeth laughed, as did Darcy.

  “When? And I am not a goose,” she insisted. “I am a gosling, brother dear,” she clarified.

  He smiled.

  “Not that I am counting, of course, but we will stand in front of Mr. Pullman in fifteen days,” Darcy looked at the clock in the entrance hall. “Fifteen days, eighteen hours, and thirty minutes.”

  “Not that you are counting?” Both females scoffed as they returned his beatific expression.

  “Come.” He gestured to the elderly woman descending the stairs. “Mrs. Reynolds will show you to your chambers so you can refresh yourself. I, myself, will be pleased to clean up and warm my person by the fire.”

  Georgiana continued as he took a breath. “I have arranged for you to stay in the room next to mine. Cook has prepared a tray of all my favorites. I do hope they are yours too. And water is being brought up to your room right now so you can bathe in comfort.”

  Elizabeth was impressed with the care she was being shown by a veritable stranger. Before she could offer her sincere thanks, for a bath sounded divine, a multitude of footsteps moved toward them from all directions inside the house. Within moments, the staff were lined up in rows ready to welcome their master.

  Darcy’s eyes flicked from one end of the rows to the other in a brief inspection. Once everyone was still, he began.

  “It is my privilege and honor to introduce you to the future Mistress of Pemberley, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Welcome her and offer her the hospitality Pemberley is known for showing its most valued guests. In just over two weeks, this will be her home.”

  Spontaneous applause filled the room, startling her. Elizabeth sidled close to Darcy. Sandalwood and citrus. She was on the verge of breaking down and refused to allow it to happen in front of these well-meaning people. Forcing a smile, she tipped her head in acknowledgement.

  Within a breath, Darcy excused them as he hurried Elizabeth up the stairs to the family wing.

  “I am sorry, Elizabeth,” he whispered loudly enough his sister, who followed closely, could hear. “Blast! What was I thinking?” He slapped his forehead. “I was not thinking, was I?”

  Elizabeth recognized the question was rhetorical so concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other. When they reached her door, she knew it to be a barrier he would not be able to pass. He needed reassurance as much as she did before she went inside the chamber where they would not have access to each other.

  “William.” Although she wanted to cry, despite not knowing where her fear came from, Elizabeth cupped his jaw with her hand. “My dearest man, I am overtired and possibly overwhelmed. Pray do not be concerned.”

  “My heart, you know not what you ask of me.” Lowering his forehead to rest softly against hers, he said, “I wanted your arrival to be celebrated and acknowledged as being a major stepping stone in the growth of this estate.”

  “And our marriage,” she muttered.

  “Yes,” he sighed. “I love that you understand me, dearest. I love that you know me; how my thoughts process and what my heart desires. I could not be more pleased.”

  She kissed his chin.

  Georgiana gasped.

  Elizabeth blushed. “I promise to take care, my Will.” She slid her face to that safe place. Sandalwood and citrus. Inhaling deeply, she exhaled through her nostrils, unknowingly finding a sensitive spot slightly under and behind her betrothed’s ear. Elizabeth would store this information away for fifteen days, eighteen hours, and thirty minutes. “Do not worry so. I am with you and your sister so have no one to fear. I am at Pemberley. These walls and your loyal staff will protect me.”

  He growled and pulled her closer. “I will protect you.” He spoke into her mouth as they passionately displayed their commitment to each other.

  “Come away, Miss Darcy!” The firm tones belonging to Mrs. Annesley, the woman who had stood next to Georgiana during their welcome, caused the couple to jump back from each other. Walking next to her was Mrs. Carr. Where Mrs. Annesley was indignant, the midwife was resigned. Darcy’s sister stood with her mouth agape, her eyes wide open.

  “Pardon me.” Both Darcy and Elizabeth spoke at once.

  “I should hope so.” Miss Darcy’s companion clasped her hand around the surprised girl’s elbow. “Come away, I say. Mr. Darcy is apparently more tired than he knows as his judgement is severely impaired.”

  As they walked away, Georgiana snickered and kept looking back, as if hoping to see another display of impropriety in t
he revered hallways of her home. Mrs. Carr shook her head.

  “I fear the days between now and the date you wanted for your wedding would be better served with a quick trip to Scotland for you two.” Huffing, the midwife moved past them to the end of the hall. Before making the righthand turn, she looked back and shrugged before walking on.

  Elizabeth giggled.

  “Oh, William, I have disrupted your home, have I not?”

  “I believe, Miss Elizabeth, there were two involved in the crime for I distinctly and clearly recall your lips beneath my own. Or was I only dreaming?” he pondered. “What Mrs. Carr suggested, my heart…you would not seriously give consideration to leaving Monday morning for a fast journey across the border, would you? We are not so far.”

  “Not so far?” Elizabeth smiled at his boyish eagerness. “I believe it to be over one hundred-fifty miles to the border from here. That is days of extra travel, sir. Is this what you want? Truly?”

  Returning his forehead to hers, he slowly replied, “No, it is not.” Kissing her one last time, he stepped back. “Shamefully, I forgot my beloved sister was standing right next to me. I will do better to watch out for both my ladies.”

  “While you are berating yourself for your neglect, I find I am joyous at your lapse as the reason for my distress has disappeared. I am no longer fearful and will enjoy my first hours at Pemberley. For, should you ever forget me as you did poor Miss Darcy, these walls will know where I am at all times, I have no doubt.”

  “I could never forget you, my darling soon-to-be bride.”

  Stepping forward, she brushed her lips against his, drawing in his scent. Sandalwood and citrus. Tranquility.

  Parting took a while longer. When Elizabeth was finally inside her room, she was surrounded by the blue of the sky and the yellow of the sun. The room was heavenly from the top to the bottom. The carpets were thick and the chairs, with their soft padding, beckoned her into their comfort.

  A maid stepped from a doorway Elizabeth suspected was the changing room where the closets and bath would be. Placing the tray she held and stoking the fire, the girl introduced herself as Sophia.

  The food smelled wonderful, but it was the steam rising from the cup that caught Elizabeth’s attention. Hot tea. Nectar from heaven, absolutely perfect as the sun set on this cold day.

  Within moments, Elizabeth was soaking in a large tub filled with hot water, her hair shampooed and her body relaxed enough she suspected sleep would come easily. She was correct. Wrapped in her robe, which had been hastily unpacked, she crawled between the sheets warmed by the hot bricks Sophia had placed strategically under the bed clothes.

  When she woke, the day was starting to break. Dressing quickly, she tamed her hair as best she could, washed her face and teeth, and headed towards the only room she was familiar with—the entrance hall. An alert footman escorted her to the breakfast room. Elizabeth expected to be the only occupant at the early hour, but found Darcy there already perusing the newspaper.

  “Elizabeth!” Her presence startled him. “You rise early. I did not think to see you until at least noon.”

  “Noon?” They had much more to learn of each other. “I am a country lass who keeps country hours, my dear man. You will have to wake while still dark to catch me abed on a fine day.”

  He folded the paper, placing it next to his empty plate, and glanced out the window to a downpour—raindrops streaming so quickly down the pane, it looked like they were standing behind a waterfall during the spring floods.

  “A fine day, indeed.” He smirked as she sat next to him, sliding the circulating paper in front of her and opening the pages to the front. Pretending to ignore him, she found nothing which grabbed her attention. When her plate was filled and a cup of chocolate placed alongside it, she handed him back his reading material. Instead of returning to it, he watched her eat.

  “Do you mean to disconcert me, Mr. Darcy, while staring at me so?”

  “I take a vast amount of pleasure in gazing upon your fine eyes, my love. And I find even more pleasure knowing I can use this particular endearment as I please.”

  Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. “Then know, sir, that I, too, have the ability to reciprocate at my pleasure whenever and wherever I am inclined. I would imagine the next time we are in company with a certain Miss Bingley, it would be a fine opportunity to use as many endearments as possible. You shall have to practice leaving your blush behind before we do, as your face turns a lovely shade of red when I call you “my love,” and I will practice stringing as many sweet words together as is conceivable to make it sound as natural as I can.”

  His laughter deafened the thunder rolling across the sky outside Pemberley’s walls.

  “Men do not blush, my darling.”

  Lifting her brow, she smirked. “Then what explains your elevated color?”

  “Too much heat.” Darcy answered as he ran his finger under his suddenly too-tight collar.

  “Ah. Now, I know.” It was her turn to blush as she recalled the circumstances—the closeness and the affection, the tenderness and the ardor. An internal flame burned inside her whenever he was close. She suspected the same happened to him. The flush to her face deepened at the discovery, mixing scarlet with the purples, greens, and yellows of her healing bruises, which could not possibly be an attractive combination.

  Clearing her throat, she shifted her attention back to her meal while Darcy folded and refolded the newspaper; first placing it on one side of his plate, then moving it to a precise location on the other side.

  They were soon joined by the other ladies of the house. After breaking their fast, a tour of the downstairs was suggested. Regrettably, Darcy had stacks of important papers awaiting him in his study, so Georgiana volunteered to lead the tour.

  All was well until they entered the sitting room which had been old Mr. Darcy’s favorite. There above the mantle were miniatures, a young Miss Darcy flanked by two men. One was William and the other…Elizabeth screamed in terror. Then she fainted.

  NINE

  An aroma wafted around her face as someone moved above her. Sandalwood and citrus.

  “Oh, Lizzy, my love, pray wake.” Hearing his voice in combination with the rumble of his chest, she realized she was being held tightly by William. “Count, dearest. Remember the numbers. One. Two. Three.”

  “What?” She heard her voice. Did she speak? Pushing against his chest, she tucked herself into the cushions of the sofa, her back pressing down against the quilted fabric, as her mind scrambled from its confusion to make sense of the setting. Georgiana leaned over Darcy’s back peering intently at her in the same manner as Mrs. Carr, who stood by the young lady’s side.

  Elizabeth blinked. The room, at least the ceiling in the room, looked unfamiliar. Glancing quickly from side to side, Elizabeth asked, “Where am I? What happened?”

  Darcy hesitated while Georgiana did not.

  “You screamed and fainted, Miss Elizabeth, after looking at the miniatures of William and I along with…”

  “Georgie!” Darcy stopped her.

  Elizabeth remembered. Wickham.

  “I need to stand,” she insisted, her thoughts and emotions in turmoil. Once on her feet, she asked, “Take me to the room, I pray you.”

  Resistance stiffened Darcy’s shoulders, although he said nothing.

  “William, I do not want to be afraid while here. I need to be free to appreciate all of Pemberley. Allow me to do this my way,” she insisted.

  He shook his head; his hands dropped to his side. “This is to be your home, Elizabeth. I will not allow anything. You determine what you will and will not do, not me.”

  What a wonderful man he was. Standing before her was the opposite of the autocrat most men strove to become. He dignified her, which fit the character she had discovered as he assisted her after the assault. Elizabeth was extraordinarily honored he would soon be her husband.

  Lifting her chin, she inquired, “The miniature?”


  Again, Georgiana spoke before her brother could open his mouth.

  “Oh, I hope you did not want it kept, for William smashed it into a thousand tiny pieces when he threw it against the stone at the back of the fireplace. He also ordered the staff to search every room for any evidence of Mr. Wickham’s presence at Pemberley.” She appeared highly pleased with her report. “And destroy it!”

  “Georgiana Darcy!”

  Abashed, the young lady looked to the floor while Elizabeth smiled at her attempts to give aid. Her new sister was very much like one she already had, which increased Elizabeth’s consolation at not returning soon to Longbourn.

  Moving to her side, Elizabeth put her arm through Georgiana’s. “Would you direct me, please?”

  Darcy huffed, a childish display quite unexpected in the grown man.

  “My love,” she sought to sooth his bruised ego. “Mightn’t you come with us in case…in case…” She could not finish. The idea she might again be overcome was more than she could tolerate. Intellectually, she knew she had nothing to fear. The shards of the porcelain painting had assuredly been swept away by Pemberley’s competent staff. Fitzwilliam Darcy would have it no other way. Lt. George Wickham was dead and buried, already cold in the ground.

  She shivered.

  He approached her from behind. She detected his scent before his hand touched her own.

  “Elizabeth,” he whispered. “I am here. I will always be here.”

  Nodding once, she stiffened her shoulders and followed Georgiana out of the room.

  A drop of water landed on her chest. Elizabeth looked up at the ceiling. Nothing. Another one dampened the same spot just above the edge of her bodice. It took the third drip before she realized the source was her own tears leaving trails down the bruises on her cheek before dripping from her jaw.

  She could go no further. She could not go…there. Crumpling into herself, she felt his strong arms surround her and the beginnings of him lightly swaying back and forth. They rocked together, her back against his chest, as he mumbled indistinguishable sounds. No, they were words.