Mr Darcy's Mail-Order Bride

by J Dawn King

  “What’s on your mind, Will?” she murmured into his back, the wool of his coat scratching her cheek. Elizabeth moved to stand at his side, her arms never leaving his torso.

  He encircled her and pulled her close, dropping a brief kiss to her temple. “Do you regret being a mail-order bride?”

  She could feel the irregularity of his breathing as she considered how best to answer.

  “No matter how it came about, I can say with honesty that am happy I am your bride. I love you, Will Darcy, with my whole heart, soul, and strength.”

  “You do, huh?”

  She felt his smile against the side of her face. “I do.”

  “In spite of the troubles and the way things started out for us,” he continued, “I will forever be pleased I took the plunge and added the note offering you marriage in Bingley’s letter.”

  She nodded, happy as well. “It was rather out of character for you. I’ve watched you carefully consider almost every decision you’ve made. To know our marriage was a matter of impulse amazes me.”

  “Me too.” He turned to her. “I know I am four months too late, but will you?”

  “Will I what?” She tilted her head in confusion. When he dropped to his right knee without breaking eye contact, a notion of what he had in mind made her smile from ear to ear. “Oh, Will,” she sighed. Her heart started pounding as a tear of joy trickled down her cheek.

  “Will you marry me? Will you be my bride?”

  His eyes brimmed with love and goodness, and she had never felt as overcome as she did at that moment. She longed to hold him and have him hold her more than she wanted her next breath.

  “Yes, Will. I will marry you.”

  As soon as the last word was uttered, he whooped. Grabbing her around the waist, he lifted her and spun her in circles until his face drew so close it was impossible to do anything other than kiss him senseless.

  Three young faces pressed up to the living room window, smiles on all of their faces.

  “I want what they have,” Georgiana declared to the nods of the other two. Stepping back, she held her hand out between the girls. “Then shake on it. We promise not to marry until we can find a love like Will and Lizzy. No mail-order. No running off in the night. Promise?”

  Each girl took a turn extending their hand in commitment. “Promise.”

  Jim Thornton asked Mary to be his bride less than two weeks after the promise. In spite of the teasing from her sisters, Mary said yes.

  Georgiana was the next to wed, though it was years later and she was twenty-one when she accepted the son of a man known since childhood to her Fitzwilliam family. He was the youngest attorney to be made partner in Richard’s law firm. His specialty was business law. It was love at first sight. They married only 28 days after becoming reacquainted.

  By the time the wedding took place, the Bingleys had three strawberry blonde-headed daughters and Jane was expecting child number four.

  Harald and Cynthia Pedersen added two more children, one son and one daughter, to their family—though they were not twins.

  It was Darcy and Elizabeth whose first pregnancy ended with one child of each sex. They did the same the second time she whispered into her husband’s ear that they might want to start building an addition to the family home. When the eldest twins were five and the next set were three, Elizabeth realized she was again expecting to add to their family.

  Darcy took her seriously and added two more bedrooms, indoor plumbing throughout the house, and increased the kitchen and dining room floor plan. Miss Rose Anne Darcy became the youngest sibling to twins Matthew and Madeline and Alexander and Amelia.

  Shortly before the arrival of Jane’s first daughter, Clementine, the Gardiners moved to the Goulding Ranch, bringing news of Lydia and the Bennets. There was an unsteady peace between mother and daughter. Mr. Bennet kept to his bookroom as was his usual habit.

  True to her word, Mrs. Lydia Wickham rejoiced in flashing her ring to anyone who would notice. She became frugal with her mother so none of what she considered ‘her’ money was spent in a manner she did not directly approve. She kept her parents in the small cottage Darcy had purchased for her until her father died of pneumonia in 1874.

  In 1875, at the age of fifty, Mrs. Frances Bennet replied to an advertisement placed in the matrimonial column of a Baltimore newspaper by a thirty-eight-year-old man seeking a wife for his home at the mouth of the Columbia River in Astoria. Within a month she was on the train to the west coast. The new Mrs. Horace Thompson flourished living with a man who clearly adored her. Once a year the couple would travel upriver to Oregon City to visit with their grandchildren.

  Elizabeth was completely surprised when she met her new father-in-law. He was just under five-feet-tall and probably weighed under one hundred twenty pounds soaking wet. The former Mrs. Bennet worshipped the ground his small feet walked on and he called her his Sugar Plum.

  Gratefully, the visits were shared with the Bingleys. Each time they came, the main theme of all conversations started by Francis Thompson was the need for Kitty to find a husband. Each time Kitty dug in her heels and staunchly refused. It was a battle they were both determined to win.

  Kitty met the man of her dreams at Sunday services. He was a quiet man who was there to see to the needs of his elderly mother. Eight months passed before he could convince Kitty to give up her single state. On the day of her marriage, she admitted her fears to Elizabeth, but on their one year anniversary, she confessed she was the happiest woman on earth.

  The following year, word trickled down from Canada that George Wickham had been caught cheating at cards. Frontier justice was swift and Lydia became a widow days before her twenty-second birthday. With no family remaining on the East Coast, and most of her friends married, she sold her cottage for a good sum and returned to Oregon City in 1877.

  With Darcy’s help, she purchased a house on the main street of town. The income from her Baltimore home was invested in an up-and-coming woolen mill that met with large success. Within the next ten years, she was an independent woman in her own right who lived to flirt with the perpetually unmarried Richard Fitzwilliam each time he came to town.

  “Sweetheart.” Fitzwilliam Darcy hugged his wife to him as they stood at the railing, their favorite spot on the porch. It had been almost eleven years since their marriage.

  “Yes, dear.” Elizabeth loved her thirty-eight-year-old husband’s gray sideburns and the streaks of the same color in his mustache. His attitude had softened with each child born, though his body was as vital as it was when they first wed.

  “Little Rose told me she wanted to marry me when she got bigger.”

  “Oh, she did, did she? And what did you reply?” Elizabeth chuckled at her precocious child. Both sets of twins were a blend of their parents. In the nature of those of multiple births, they were exceedingly close to their partner from their mother’s womb and didn’t seem to need the company of anyone else. Rose? She was her mother’s daughter and had her father wrapped around her little finger from her first breath.

  “I told her that being four, she had plenty of years to worry about who would be her husband and, besides, I already had a wife.”

  “That was a sensible answer, husband.” Elizabeth leaned into his side and jabbed him with her elbow. “Now tell me, what did you really want to tell her.”

  The words poured from him like water over a dam. He placed his hand on his chest and rubbed.

  “I wanted to insist she promise me she would never marry, that she would never want to leave home, and that she would never love a man like she loves me.”

  “You dear, dear man.” She clasped his fingers and kissed the back of his hand. “Do you remember the first letter you wrote for Bingley? You spoke of how quiet it would be living here if we didn’t listen for the sounds of nature. You wrote of twin fawns eating and playing by the honeysuckle arbor. Do you recall?”

  He gazed out over the land and pulled her tighter. “I do.”
r />   “My love, you have taught each one of our children to hear the sounds, to see beyond the obvious to what exists beyond their small circle. You have set an unparalleled example for our sons of what it means to be a good and responsible husband and father. And you have set a standard for the kind of man our daughters should look for in a mate.” She reached up and kissed his cheek.

  “Do they have to grow up, Lizzy? Alex is already almost as tall as Matthew and he’s only eight. Madeline is helping more and more in the house and Amelia plays with her dolls like she can’t wait to have her own family. I am not ready for this.”

  She smiled into his neck.

  “Matthew and Maddie are only ten, Will. You still have a few years yet.”

  “It goes by so fast.”

  “That it does.” Daily she noticed her eldest son becoming more skilled at the chores his father assigned him, and Maddie already knew more about keeping a house than Mary, Kitty, and Georgiana did when they arrived in Oregon back in 1869.

  They both sighed in tandem.

  “I’m glad you answered my letters.” Darcy spoke into her hair.

  “And I’m glad you wrote them in the first place.” Again, she smiled.

  “I’m glad you were my mail-order bride.”

  “Me too.”

  Occasionally over the years, they would tease each other about the attraction they felt to who they thought had written the letters. Neither of them had any regrets.

  Bingley and Jane were perfect together. They never allowed Caroline back into their home, and she never once came to visit them or acknowledge the birth of their children.

  Bingley was the sole male at Netherfield Ranch. The fourth and fifth pregnancies gave them Charlotte and Claire to add to Clementine, Clarissa, and Cassandra. All five girls were fair-haired with blue eyes and had the sweet nature of their mother and the amiability of Charles.

  When the men were cloistered in the study with a bottle of whiskey and no females, the conversation often turned to the future.

  “Would you ever let your daughters marry someone they knew only by letter?” Bingley would inevitably ask.

  “Never!” Darcy would always reply.

  Jane and Elizabeth would have variations of the same conversations with, pretty much, the same results.

  Late at night, when the children slept, Darcy would invite his wife to their spot on the porch. It was their time for reflection of the day and a sharing of plans and dreams for the future.

  On this night, their twelfth anniversary since the day they were married before the Justice of the Peace, Darcy didn’t speak. Instead, he handed her a folded piece of paper with a single white rose balanced across the top.

  She moved to the rocking chair and turned the wick up on the lantern. Putting the rose to her nose, she inhaled the sweet fragrance. Laying it on the table next to her, she waited for him to settle back at his post, leaning against the railing. He refused to look at her. Instead, his back was to her as he gazed into the darkness beyond. She noted the stiffness of his shoulders and knew he was reining in his emotions until he knew her response. It was his way.

  July 1, 1881

  My dearest Elizabeth,

  I clearly remember the night I added my note to the bottom of Bingley’s letter asking you to come to Oregon to be my wife. Above all things, I desired a woman who would turn my house into a home; a woman who would share my fears and joys, who would want to rise in the morning with me to face each new day and yearn for the comfort of our bed each night.

  In you, Elizabeth Darcy, every one of my dreams has come true. You are my heart and soul. You are my life and my love. If I have failed to adequately express my appreciation for your taking a chance on a stranger, I beg you accept my sincerest thanks now.

  Although we were not in love the day we wed, I know from my heart that I started falling for you the very next day when you bravely tended my wound and fearlessly gave commands to men far taller and stronger than you to see to my care.

  I will love you, my mail-order bride, until we take our last breath on this earth. You are the only woman for me. I promise.

  Will Darcy

  Elizabeth clutched the letter to her heart. She would fold it and place it with the other four he had written for Charles. Finally, she set it next to the rose and stood to walk to her husband. He turned as she stepped near.

  “You are the only man for me.” Putting both hands to the sides of his face, she kissed him with all the passion she felt bursting inside her. “I promise.”

  Joy Dawn King started telling stories from an early age. However, she did not write any of them down until she was 57 years old. While living high in the Andes Mountains of Ecuador with her husband and family, she read Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice for the first time. It was love at first page. After she was done, she longed for more.

  When searching for another copy of Jane Austen’s writings, she happened upon several books that offered alternative paths to happily ever after for Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet. She purchased and read as many as she could find. Finally, in early 2014, she had an idea for a story about the couple that would not go away. Thus, her first book, A Father’s Sins: A Pride and Prejudice Variation, was born.

  Since then, Joy and her husband moved back to the U.S. and plot bunnies kept hopping in and out of her imagination. Now, it’s all she can do to keep up with them. But, she tries.

  “Mr. Darcy.” She stood and walked to him, the room suddenly silent as she did so.

  What was she about? Was she going to refuse him as she had done in this very room only two nights before? He felt perspiration on his palms and wanted to wipe them on the sides of his trouser legs. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, or a half a day, he responded.

  “Miss Elizabeth, might I be of assistance?”

  “I thank you for your offer as yes, it is your help I seek.” She turned to her friend to satisfy her curiosity as she pulled a letter from her pocket. “Charlotte, I happened upon Mr. Darcy yesterday in the glen and we spoke of a situation at Longbourn where the gentleman’s experience in estate management—in particular, that of removing unwanted pests—would be of immediate benefit. Last night, I endeavoured to pen the information to my father and fear I may not have the details entirely correct.”

  “Oh, no! Cousin Elizabeth, it should have been Lady Catherine you should have petitioned for there is not another more knowledgeable soul in all of England when it comes to making decisions as to the proper running of a property. I do surmise, Cousin, that had your father accepted willingly the recommendations I passed on from my benefactress, the estate to which I am entitled to inherit would be in a far better financial condition than it is currently and it certainly would not be overrun with rodents.”

  “Mr. Collins!” Charlotte implored him to remember his manners and stopped him from speaking further.

  Elizabeth’s face reflected horror and embarrassment at his crass sharing of such personal information.

  Miss Maria Lucas had her chin to her chest as she worried her skirt fabric between her fisted hands, and Colonel Fitzwilliam looked on the scene with seeming pleasure. Then he stared directly at the parson.

  “Is that right, Mr. Collins? You believe Aunt Catherine to be an advisor to Darcy who is in possession of an estate more than twice the size of Rosings Park?” He paused, acting confused. “Why do you think it is that Darcy is required to come twice a year to survey the property and balance her account books? If it was as you claim, would it not be my aunt who would be doing such to Pemberley instead?”

  “But..but…” Mr. Collins sputtered.

  “To ease your mind, sir, might I recommend that Darcy read Miss Elizabeth’s letter. Should he have any concerns that he could not supply the exact information needed for Mr. Bennet, he could take up the matter with our aunt.”

  Mr. Collins was quick to agree. “Yes, Cousin Elizabeth, please read your letter aloud.”

  Darcy spoke up before either the colonel or M
iss Elizabeth could do so.

  “I do not believe it to be necessary. Should she have phrased the matter incorrectly, I would not want Miss Elizabeth to suffer discomfort from having her family and friends know of her error. As it happens…” he reached into his own pocket and pulled out a letter of his own. “I, myself, have written to Mr. Bennet for the same purpose. Does your letter include greetings for your family?”

  “Yes, it does.” He could see the gratitude on her face.

  “Then I will include yours with my own. If I might add a post script so Mr. Bennet knows how I came into possession of his daughter’s letter, we can arrange for an express rider to send them on their way.”

  Charlotte moved to a desk in the corner and opened the ink well, placing the sharpened quill carefully at the side of the writing surface. Mr. Darcy wrote quickly, sanded the newly inked parchment. He then folded and sealed the two letters together. Yet, when he moved away from the desk, there was not one missive in his hands, but two. Odd!

  Mrs. Collins watched him carefully as he walked back to stand next to Elizabeth. As quick as a breath, the second letter was dropped into her friend’s pocket. Charlotte’s brows went up and her hand went to her mouth. Her eyes swept around the room to find that the only one other than herself who noticed was the colonel. When Darcy’s cousin slowly shook his head “no” and the corner of his mouth lifted, Charlotte knew not to make mention of the matter.

  Elizabeth Bennet had, against all the rules of propriety, received correspondence from Mr. Darcy. How shocking!