Something: Old, New, Later, True: A Pride & Prejudice Collection
Page 25
“Breathe in,” his voice whispered. “Breathe out.”
She found an element of relief in obedience.
Resting against him, she considered her choices. By remaining in his protective embrace, she saved herself from confronting a monster, a giant who loomed menacingly over her. By stepping away, she could take on the evil dragon and possibly claim a victory or, at the least, an element of courage to fight another day.
She pushed against his arms and he dropped them in an instant.
I can do this. I can do this.
She saw Georgiana’s fear and knew it to be fear of having done something to upset the situation. Elizabeth reached for her hand, tilting her head down the hallway, a subtle direction to proceed.
Walking slowly, giving herself time to change her mind, they arrived at the sitting room door.
“You do not have to go in,” Darcy insisted.
“I know.” Her reassurance sounded weak to her own ears. She closed her eyes. When the footman turned the handle and pushed open the carved oak panel, Elizabeth looked inside.
Relief filled her. It was just a room. No demons lurked above the mantle. No hideous beasts hid behind the curtains or the door. Instead, the warm autumn tones on the walls and furnishings were inviting.
Elizabeth hugged her new sister tightly. “Thank you for bringing me here,” she whispered into the younger girl’s ear.
“I am happy you are here,” Georgiana replied.
“As am I.” Elizabeth felt the truth of her reply deeply.
***
By the time they left the room to tour the remainder of the downstairs family areas, Darcy reported to his betrothed the arrival of an express from Mr. Bennet.He had found it buried within the stack of documents piled on his desk in his study. He handed her the missive to read.
19 November 1811
Longbourn, Hertfordshire
Mr. Darcy,
Almost the moment you departed, I realized I failed to give you information that might prove necessary for my daughter’s recovery. Considering the emotionally charged situation, I give you leave, consent, and my blessing to obtain a common license for marriage should circumstances deem it to be the course of wisdom and if my Lizzy agrees.
I miss her. However, the course we chose was for the best. I cannot see this uproar settling soon. Your suggestion and offer to provide funds to transport the affected families to the Americas for a new start in a new land will be offered to the judge when he arrives. I, personally, believe it to be the best. Even should the two men be found justified in their actions, the reputations of their daughters will forever keep the whole of their families bound in guilt.
Take care of her. Love her. Respect her. And I ask that you cherish her buoyant spirit should she find it again.
Wishing you the best as I do my daughter as well.
I am, and undoubtedly in time, if not already, will be yours as well, her father in affection,
Bennet
Elizabeth refolded the paper and rested it on her lap. Darcy was seated across from her, intently studying her reaction. What could she say?
He waited in silence.
“William,” she hesitated to put her jumbled thoughts into words. “While the decision is up to you, I strongly urge you to speak to Georgiana of what happened to me.”
“Why?”
She could see he was unable to understand.
“Because when I tried to pretend nothing happened, I failed spectacularly. What she witnessed had to frighten her to her toes.” She gestured towards her face. “Surely, she has seen my injuries. She must have questions as to how I received bruises on my face and throat. She has to worry if she will be called upon in the future to rescue me when my mind takes me to that dark place from which I cannot seem to escape.”
Elizabeth stood, dropping the paper where she had sat. Pacing back and forth in front of him, she blurted out her concerns.
“What if I do not heal? What if I never recover? What if I believe all is well and some small movement or comment will set off a storm of unhealthy emotions that rob me of my dignity and control? What if that man will always be present in my life? What if I can never get rid of him?” She stopped in front of him, hating the haunted look in his eyes. “What if I…oh, goodness, William. How can I speak to you of this?”
“Just say it, Elizabeth. Speak your thoughts with impunity.” His breathing was ragged, though his voice was even, almost calm. “I will hear whatever it is you need to say.”
“Then, fine. I will tell you what worries me.” Anger drove her to speak her fears aloud. “What if we are lying together and you inadvertently touch me while I sleep and I forget we are wed? What if…” She brushed away the salty tears from her cheeks. “What if I think you are him? Will you hate me? Will you want to stay with me? Will you wish you had not married this mess of a woman you say you love? William, I am consumed with anger that I cannot easily set aside what happened and I fear, more than all else, that our marriage will suffer because of it.”
She collapsed into the chair, clutching the letter in her hands. “My father, he gives us permission to marry. Does he wish me gone? Is he happy I am under your responsibility rather than his? Will he ever welcome me back to Longbourn?”
She continued her rant, feeling horrible with every expression. She ached for him having to listen to her complaints and concerns. “Will I ever feel whole again? Will I ever feel completely like the Lizzy I was before I walked in that field? Tell me!” she demanded. “Answer me, William, for if we cannot come to peace, I will leave Pemberley so you and your sister will not have a harridan in your home.”
The muscle in his jaw twitched.
“You care for me. You care for your sister. You care for the future of two strangers and their families who acted impulsively. You care for Pemberley, William, and because you have devoted your lifetime in doing so, can you want me here? Do you want the turmoil that is now a part of me?”
She was done. Every negative thought and emotion was out in the open. Her body was weary, as if she had run a long distance uphill. Now, she waited for his reply. Would he reject her? Would he cast her back to Longbourn where she may never be welcomed again? She did not know. Elizabeth could not look at him and she was deeply ashamed for not being able to give him the respect he deserved.
“Firstly, I thank you for your honesty.” He did not sound upset, so she finally looked him fully in the face. His brow was furrowed as he removed his hands where they had been perched on the bridge of his nose, his fingers pressing into the inner corners of his eyes. When he did so, a lone tear escaped, forging a path slowly down his face.
Now she knew heartache. It was in front of her, a pure demonstration of a pain so vivid it hurt her to look.
“Secondly,” his voice choked. “Secondly, I thank you for thinking of my sister. But, mostly, I thank you for your worry for me and my home.” He wiped the dampness away only to have another drop appear. “You see, my Lizzy, I now have no doubt that your love for me is as real as mine. When we say our vows, when we swear before God that we will remain married through sickness and health, through the good and bad, we both will mean it with all that we are.” He reached his hands forward, but stopped before touching her. “Our marriage will be iron strong, forged from adversity and struggle, becoming more powerful as we live and love each day together.”
She reached for him. Sandalwood and citrus.
“If you reach for me in the night, I will hold you. Should you push me away, I will stay away until you reach for me again. If you fear, I will give you strength. If you need to display your control, I will stand alongside you and praise you until our children, our family, and the walls of Pemberley tire of hearing me speak of your worth.” He leaned forward in his chair, lacing his fingers with hers. “In truth, I cannot speak for your father. Nevertheless, I can speak as a man in love who adores you. You, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, have a home—here at Pemberley with me.”
“I love y
ou, William.” she whispered, joyous at the transformation in his eyes from worry to relief.
“Then let us do as your father approves. When we arrive at the chapel today, let us request a common license from Mr. Pullman so we may be wed on the morrow. You will be my wife, the keeper of my heart, and the Mistress of Pemberley.”
“You have no doubts?” She had to ask.
“Not one.” That said, his whole countenance changed. This was the man she had met at the Meryton assembly, the proud man who exuded confidence.
She chuckled.
“You were correct, sir. Pemberley is magical.” She smiled. “Or, you are.”
“We will do this, Elizabeth. We will live happily-ever-after.” He stood and helped her to rise. “I am your king, your knight, and your pirate.”
Dimples!
Laughing, she replied, “And, I am your queen, your lady, and your…lady pirate?”
He leaned in for a kiss. She gladly reciprocated.
He spoke so quietly, she had to listen carefully to hear.
“I will love you as long as Pemberley stands.”
She smiled against his lips, her heart brimming with happiness.
“Then, I can only add, the best of good wishes for Pemberley.”
EPILOGUE
Pemberley, Derbyshire—two years later
Her fingers wrapped tightly around the jagged stone—her grip firm. She knew his habits.
His elbow would draw back as if he would fling the rock, to throw it with such force it would destroy his target. Instead, he would try stuffing it into his mouth—dirt, fingers, and all.
“No, baby.” Elizabeth pried each fat, little finger loose until her fourteen-month-old son dropped the pebble onto the walkway. She used the toe of her boot to kick it out of Ben’s way. In the two months since he started walking, her son was drawn to the outdoors as much as both of his parents. He loved dirt, rocks, blades of grass plucked from the mud, and “pretty” flowers he pulled from the gardens.
The dark curls bouncing against his neck as the babe moved away from her mimicked his father’s—one of her favorite places to thread her fingers when she was in Darcy’s embrace. Sandalwood and citrus.
She ran her hand over her distended belly, smiling at the promise of a second child. She loved her life. Mrs. Carr continued on at Pemberley, watching over them both like a mother hen with her chicks. Her only weakness was Ben. She allowed him freedoms as a supplementary grandparent that she never would have done had she been invited to remain as a nursemaid. Georgiana, too, was permissive with the lad. Soon, she would be presented at court and would meet a man of her own. Her standard was to search for a gentleman completely opposite of the rake who had attempted to coerce her at Ramsgate. However, she did slyly whisper to Elizabeth that she was drawn to fair-haired men with blue eyes.
Not Elizabeth. Her husband’s deep, dark eyes could be as hard as flint when he was vexed, only to melt to a warm, welcoming light when she or their son were in his presence. Little Ben was a miniature version of his father, which pleased Elizabeth daily.
Despite the trials, her husband’s and her own imperfections, they had a love so deep and true that, on most days, it was fairly easy to bury the memory of the day in the field. Other days? Her husband would find her curled up on the sofa in his study wrapped in his great coat, her nose buried in the soft fabric just inside the collar. She would cry and he would hold her tightly, just as he had done in the grove of oak trees the last time she had walked alone across the fields outside Longbourn.
She never walked alone at Pemberley. Ever. If her husband was unavailable, two footmen would follow closely behind. Shortly after they wed, he had insisted on it and she loved him beyond measure for his constant care for her safety.
Now, they walked at Ben’s pace, slow and rambling. There was nothing more interesting to a little boy as an ant who needed followed, a butterfly that needed chased, or a wet, shiny rock practically begging for a thorough inspection.
Footsteps of a man on a mission sounded behind them. She had no need to turn, nor was she surprised with the arm snaking around her waist. No threat. No worry. No peril.
Sandalwood and citrus. For her. For their family. For Pemberley.
The End
From the Author
Christie Capps is the pen name of author J Dawn King who, because of increasing demands on her time, has fewer and fewer hours to read. She doubts she is the only one with these circumstances. Therefore, her stories will all be approximately 100 pages of sweet romance and will be priced less than one cup of flavored coffee from your local barista.
Happy reading!
jdawnking.com
Table of Contents
Copyright
Mr. Darcy’s Bad Day
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
The Perfect Gift
Acknowledgement
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Epilogue
A Forever Kind of Love
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
For Pemberley
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
From the Author
Table of Contents
Copyright
Mr. Darcy’s Bad Day
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
The Perfect Gift
Acknowledgement
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Epilogue
A Forever Kind of Love
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
For Pemberley
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
From the Author
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