My Dearest Mr. Darcy: An Amazing Journey into Love Everlasting

Chapter One Correspondence

The sun had long since set. The full moon cast a pale bluish glow over the carpet and furnishings near the widely open windows of the Darcys' spacious private sitting room. It was far too warm on this late August evening to have a fire lit, but several oil lamps and candles illuminated the area near the empty fireplace. Darcy, as always, refused to grope in darkness or strain his or his wife's eyes while they read.

They reclined on the chaise, Lizzy nestled between her husband's legs with her back pressed into his bare chest. Peaceful silence surrounded them as they attended to the stack of correspondence that had accumulated during their journey south. Darcy, especially, was still working his way through the pile that seemed to grow rather than diminish as business-related items were continually added to the top.

Tonight he eschewed any business letters, choosing to read a lengthy missive from his sister while absently toying with a lock of his wife's hair. Lizzy smiled and lightly stroked her husband's cloth-covered thigh as she read a letter from her sister Jane that had arrived that day.

My Dearest Lizzy,

My heart nearly stopped as you related your trauma with the bandits! Oh, dearest sister, how absolutely awful an experience! I am trembling yet at the horror of it and the thankfulness in your recovery. How proud of Mr. Darcy you must be! Charles was not at all surprised. I recall him telling me once that Mr. Darcy was an excellent marksman. Of course I am quite certain he never anticipated his dear friend utilizing his skills so. Has Papa written you? Undoubtedly he shall relate the episode in an amusing manner, but Mama was quite taken by your mishap. Her nervous attack was of stupendous proportions. She has been abed for two days, despite your and Mr. Darcy's assurances that all was well. Papa retreated to his library as usual, appearing only to halt the mournful letter she had penned to you! Therefore you shall necessarily be required to affect commiseration when next you write to Mama.

Thank you for relating your excursion abroad the Derbyshire countryside. What a marvelous idea! I must share this tidbit of humor: Charles was reading Mr. Darcy's letter as I was reading yours when suddenly he snorted in disgust. I inquired as to his concern and he recalled Mr. Darcy boring him nearly to death while in France with the endless tours of old castles and ruins. I chuckled so, dear Lizzy, as your letter expressed such joy over the adventures! Of course, I can empathize with my husband as such diversions are not appealing to me; however, I am cognizant of how you adore them, so was thrilled you two embarked on the endeavor.

If you have received a letter from Papa, then you know he accepted the news of Charles and me relocating with serenity. I know he is saddened, and perhaps he has communicated his distress to you; nonetheless, he understands and has given us his blessing. Mama, shockingly, was in hysterics. Oh Lizzy, it was awful! She wailed and moaned, lamenting how all her daughters have deserted her and she would never be able to kiss her grandchildren. Poor Charles was frantic. Papa took her in hand, but it was terrible. I must confess, as horrendous as your crisis, it did succeed in deflecting Mama's anxiety from me! Hopefully for both our sakes, Mary will proffer a blessed announcement forthwith to further avert Mama's absorption and cheer her spirits.

As for Charles and me, we are proceeding as planned. I do believe Charles would have packed up and departed within the week, but I have given him pause. It is a difficult move for me, Lizzy dear. You know that change is not embraced as easily by me as you. While we were yet in Derbyshire, my enthusiasm was as profound as Charles's. Now that I am home, Hertfordshire continually draws me in with all her lures and homey comforts. Yet oddly I find that with each passing day the sense of belonging, especially at Netherfield, ebbs. Charles speaks of Hasberry daily, and I am beginning to long for the charms of the house. Mostly, of course, my heart yearns to please my husband. I am so proud of his spirit and zeal as well as the serious maturity he displays in regard to this new undertaking.

Caroline has returned to London, abiding with the Hursts for the present, although I do believe she plans to holiday in Essex with a friend next month. As you and I were discussing, Caroline continues to puzzle me. Over time the worst of her disdain for me has vanished and she actually appears pleased for Charles and me in our obvious felicity. However, try as I might, we cannot establish a sisterly relationship or a particularly friendly one. I know you shrug her attitude away, Lizzy, believing me silly for fretting so, yet I persist in wishing it otherwise. The oddest part is how her personality vacillates. She spoke of her trip to Essex with a queer expression. She almost appeared dreamy and her eyes softened. Then it was as if she caught herself and rapidly followed with a snippy comment about the dreariness of Meryton. I do wish I could laugh at her as you do. Oh well, she is gone now and peace reigns.

Lizzy, I am pleased that your pregnancy progresses without complications. The nursery as you describe it sounds beautiful. Who would have thought to have clouds painted on a blue ceiling and a pastel landscape over one wall? I confess I have difficulty envisioning the scene. How ingenious of the decorator to suggest such a masterpiece! You did not, however, mention horses grazing upon the painted grasses. Charles and I immediately noted the omission and mutually decided it was an oversight on your part as assuredly Mr. Darcy would insist on horses! I am pleased to hear of the cuckoo clock finding a home where your child will grow amid the sweet music as we all did. I believe I shall have to hint of the same when the time comes for Charles and me. The lace curtains are a perfect touch. You amaze me, dearest sister, in your sudden embracing of domesticity. Knitting and sewing! Astounding! The needlepoint pillows and pictures I can comprehend, as you have ever adored embroidery, but making your own curtains? I truly must see it with mine own eyes to fully believe. I told Mama, but she thought me jesting. Perhaps the concept of babies brings out one's creativity as Caroline did complete the quilt. I must say, it is a skillfully wrought item and beautiful. You will love it.

Charles has finished his missive to Mr. Darcy, so I shall close for now. You absolutely cannot tell Mama or Papa, but I am so very thrilled that we shall be close, Lizzy. I miss you so very much and want our children to grow dear to each other. Before I finish I must thank you for your timely advice at our last private chat. You were right in all aspects and the results are as you presupposed. We truly are the most fortunate of women in our marriages, are we not, dear sister? If only all could be so blessed. Imagine how wonderful the world would then be? I love you, Lizzy, and yearn for your companionship. Take care on your journey to the seacoast.

Always,

Your Jane

Lizzy was smiling broadly and chuckling as she refolded Jane's correspondence. “What does your sister have to say which so amused you, beloved?” Darcy asked, his voice rumbling over Lizzy's back.

“Have you read the letter from Charles yet?” she asked, turning her head to peer up into Darcy's face as he shook his head negative. “Apparently he related with disgust the reminiscences of your journey to France. You were not exaggerating as to his feelings on museums and ruins.”

Darcy chuckled. “I could almost generate some pity if it were not for his avengement.”

“You never did tell me the story of your waltz experiences.”

“I suppose I can now see humor in the situation. Knowing the dance has benefited me most delightfully in the present, thus easing the painful memory.” He paused to stroke her cheek and lean forward for a tasty kiss.

“You were saying?” Lizzy interrupted in a throaty whisper.

“I was saying?” he repeated, brushing her lips with insistence, but she withdrew with a giggle.

“About the waltz, William. You were going to tell me the story.”

He sighed theatrically. “Very well then, but do not forget where we were, my lover.” She solemnly nodded, eyes twinkling. “As I told you, I first danced the waltz in Vienna. When I was twenty-five, I traveled to Austria to visit my Aunt Mary. The waltz is quite popular there, and before I hardly knew what was happening, my cousins were grasping my hands and propelling me onto the floor of their music room. You need not imagine anything untoward, love. They are all quite older than me and married.” Lizzy harrumphed and Darcy grinned.

He resumed, “They considered it a hideous lapse in my education to only know the stilted dances of the English. The Austrians are looser and prefer lively, intimate dances such as the tarantella, lavolta, courante, and galliard. I shall confess that I actually enjoyed myself and, risking the label of arrogant, I learned quickly and was quite excellent! As you now are aware, I do find dancing pleasant, provided I am familiar and comfortable with my partner.” He kissed her nose, stroking along her neck. “In Vienna I reluctantly was induced to dance a few times at the balls we attended, although I refused other than my aunt or cousins. They thought that was hysterical and teased me mercilessly.”

Lizzy laughed. “Ah, the poor broken hearts extend all across Europe. Those woeful Austrian ladies with their sad faces moping despondently about the ballroom.”

Darcy reddened but snorted. “Unlikely, Elizabeth.” Lizzy smiled, again amused at how innocent and obtuse he was in regards to his attributes and allure. “Anyway, two years later Bingley and I were in Paris at a soiree hosted by the Comte and Comtesse Petain. I did not wish to attend, not surprisingly, but Bingley adores such entertainments and despite his allusions to the contrary, I was perceptive to his annoyance and remorseful for dragging him along on my adventures. During dinner the conversation turned to the ball and the anticipation for the waltz. Bingley, sweet, seemingly scrupulous Bingley, manipulated the topic masterfully. Within minutes the entire table accounted me a veritable waltz virtuoso, and I was slated to dance with five ladies, three of whom were the Comte's excessively homely daughters!”

Lizzy was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. Darcy shuddered in memory but then laughed as well. “He completely blindsided me. I do confess it was rather inspired maneuvering, and his goal of humiliating me worked brilliantly.”

“Did you trip or forget the steps?”

“Very amusing, Mrs. Darcy. No, I did not. I was graceful and flawless.” He grinned. “So elegant and debonair that I believe it is fortunate we departed the next day as I may have caused the entire assemblage to fall madly in love with me.”

He meant to elicit further laughter, but she smiled into his eyes instead and caressed his cheek. “Yes, I am sure they did. A host of broken hearts once again.” She pulled him down for a deep kiss, Darcy happily complying. The spell was broken when he reached to embrace her waist and Georgiana's letter, still clutched in his left hand, crumpled against the swell of her belly.

“Oh dear!” he exclaimed, “I should finish this before mutilating it.”

“What does she have to say?”

“You must read it, dearest. Of course, it is addressed to you as well. She is having a marvelous trip. When she dispatched this, they were at Aunt Madeline's brother's home in Rhayader. I believe they have probably moved on from there to Aberystwyth by now, but she says the mansion is enormous with all sorts of secret passageways, unused wings, a bell tower, and supposedly a ghost from the twelfth century. Listen: 'Suzette,'—one of the cousins—'declares with firm belief that the ghost is a woman who died from a suspicious fall from the bell tower. She swears, brother, that she has seen her gliding about the north wing with flowing robes of white and a sad face. I asked why all ghosts are required to wear white. Is it a metaphysical law of some sort? Suzette did not find my cheekiness amusing. Needless to say, I have not seen this ghost, although despite my skepticism, I do not intend to wander the empty corridors in the dead of night—this being, naturally, according to those laws previously mentioned, the only time the ghost will appear!'”

Chuckling, Darcy paused. Lizzy read ahead to the following paragraph, asking, “Who is this Lord Gruffudd that she mentions horseback riding with?”

Darcy frowned. “A Welshman who lives in the vicinity and is obviously close friends with Mr. Dawes, Madeline's brother. That is the fourth time she has noted his presence involved in some activity partaken. Why would she remark about an old neighbor?”

“Perhaps he is not old. You came into your inheritance young, as do others sadly. Maybe she is smitten. Did you read this? 'Lord Gruffudd is nearly as excellent a rider as you, dear brother. You always told me that a person born in the saddle is instantly recognized. Lord Gruffudd has such a demeanor. It was an entertaining ride about the moor with all in high spirits despite the drizzling mist as Lord Gruffudd's wit and humor is enlivening.' Sounds like a wee crush to me!”

Lizzy giggled, glancing to Darcy. Her laughter froze at the thunderous expression on his face. His eyes skimmed over the remaining two pages, counting Lord Gruffudd's name five more times ere her best wishes and signature. Lizzy opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but the words failed when Darcy abruptly launched from the chaise as if sprung. Her jaw clamped shut from the sudden jolt as she fell into the space vacated by his absent body, sprawled into a bizarre angle.

Darcy commenced pacing as if caged, muttering and clenching his fists. As typical when deeply disturbed or perplexed, he ended by a far window, staring sightlessly. Lizzy struggled up from the chaise, approaching him cautiously. “William, whatever is the matter?”

He did not glance to her, shaking his head brusquely before responding in a flat, icy tone. “I never should have let her go. It is my duty to protect her from such things, and I allowed my selfishness to overrule my reason.”

“I do not understand, dearest. What 'things' are you concerned about? She is having a delightful time, and so what if she has an infatuation? She will be eighteen in two weeks. It is rather normal for a girl her age to notice a handsome man, assuming that is even the case here.”

Darcy pivoted her direction, the anger and self-loathing on his face propelling her backward a pace. “Need I remind you how the last infatuation she experienced concluded? Think, Elizabeth! I am aware it was before your time; however, surely you know enough of the details to comprehend why I do not wish for her to suffer such heartache again?”

Lizzy's anger flared and she placed her hands onto her hips, answering him with equal vigor. “Do not talk to me that way, Mr. Darcy! Georgiana has shared all her emotions of the Ramsgate affair with me, probably to a degree not even shared with you, but that is beside the point. You are being idiotic to equate a few mentions in a letter with the Wickham incident, and you grievously insult both your sister, who is far wiser than you give credit, and your aunt and uncle!”

“Idiotic? Really?”

“That is the least harsh term I could conjure.” She crossed her arms and cocked her head slightly, a tiny smile lifting her lips at the sight of her husband attempting to glower and rage while dressed in naught but his breeches. “What truly bothers you, love? That she may experience a mild heartbreak or that she is admiring a man besides her idolized older brother?”

“That is ridiculous, Elizabeth.” His denial was speedy, but the tone betrayed him. He glanced back out the window, avoiding her eyes, and ran one hand through his hair. “I feel helpless so far from her. What if she needs me? What if he is a scoundrel? What if…? Aach! I shall go insane!” He dropped his hands futilely to his sides.

Lizzy smiled, planting herself squarely in front of him and placing her palms onto his chest. “I think you are worrying for nothing, William. Georgiana will not be leaving us anytime soon, although it shall happen in due course so you must prepare yourself for the eventuality.” He grunted, staring over her head, but he did clasp her waist with both hands. “I promise I shall forever idolize you and need you, my husband. I will even endeavor to do something stupid now and again so you can protect me! That way you shall never feel worthless.” She smiled dazzlingly, Darcy unable to maintain his vexation. With a sigh and faint chuckle he embraced her, deciding with effort to relinquish his fear and trust his uncle and aunt, although he did hastily dispatch a sternly worded response.

Dear William and Elizabeth,

Greetings from Devon! Yes, I finally made it, warning Estella of my pending arrival a whole five days ere I barged in. Forgive me for not writing sooner, although I have no excuse for having not done so other than my raging irresponsibility. I trust you both adore me, worship the ground I walk upon adequately so as to not require I fabricate false pretexts or humility. In fact, be overjoyed as this will likely be the only correspondence you receive from me! In an attempt to placate, I shall endeavor to make it an extensive one with witticisms and information. Here goes:

The ride was uneventful, as you undoubtedly have heard from Col. Fitzwilliam or Mr. Bingley or Miss de Bourgh, all whom are likely to have written prior to me. We tarried at Netherfield for two days. It has been longer than I can recall since I visited Hertfordshire. Elizabeth, your home Shire is lovely. Like William, Derbyshire will always be dearest to my heart, but the lush farms of Hertfordshire are beautiful. Meryton so reminded me of Lambton that I had the most annoying sensation of déjà vu! We dined with your parents, Elizabeth. I must say again how delightful I find your father! Capital fellow. Quite an impressive library for so small a room. Be prepared, William, as he is chomping at the bit to ramble through Pemberley's bookshelves. Your mother, Elizabeth, bless her heart, seemed all atwitter by my presence. Odd, as I rarely have such an effect on folks, being so calm and serene of spirit.

Lizzy and Darcy snorted simultaneously at this blatant falsehood.

I did my best to be charming and endearing, and believe I succeeded as she actually smiled and blushed when I said my adieus. I seem to have this effect on women despite my attempts to submerge my natural magnetism. It is a Darcy trait, do you not agree, William?

Only Lizzy snorted at this point, Darcy nudging her in the ribs.

Leaving Hertfordshire we leisurely drove to Kent. Miss de Bourgh did not strike me as being too anxious to return home. She continues to thrive, her color improving daily, even the trip not upsetting her health. Raja is thrilled. I do hope you have no qualms as to the nature of the relationship between him and your cousin, William? I know how dear she is to you. I shall confess that initially I was concerned as it is not an unusual phenomenon for patients to become enamored with their physicians. Happens to me all the time! Ha!! Seriously, as the weeks progressed, I have realized that Raul's feelings are genuine. Thus, my greatest concern was that Miss Anne's feelings may not be reciprocal and that my dear friend would be hurt. I no longer entertain this notion, as I have seen the affection between the two.

Now here is the fun part! We arrived at Rosings, Lady Catherine as enchanting as always.

“I cannot imagine my aunt ever being enchanting,” Darcy grunted, Lizzy opting not to respond beyond nodding her head.

Raja and I were ignored. Col. Fitzwilliam and Miss de Bourgh were both embarrassed, bless their souls, by our obvious slighting, but Raja and I found it highly amusing. I do not think either of you grew to know Dr. Penaflor well, but let me assure you, the man has a backbone to rival even you, William. We settled at the inn in Ashford, happy to bide our time for one evening. Raja, however, had a plan with no intention of being waylaid. I do not know all the details, but it was clear to me by this point that he and Miss de Bourgh had reached an agreement of sorts. I know he has not formally proposed. You see, formality and propriety are vitally essential to a man such as Raul Penaflor and nothing short of a proper courtship will do.

Lizzy interrupted to envy the fortunate Anne in enjoying a regular courtship as befits a lady. Darcy replied that courtships are a waste of time, Anne preferring to just get married and skip to the fun part. He grinned salaciously, eyes raking over her body, which raised a blush to her cheeks and halted any further snappy comments.

You two may not quite understand Raja's circumstance. He was raised in the courts of Madrid and Palencia. His blood is as blue as it gets and his wealth transcends yours, William; radically transcends. I honestly do not know how affluent he is, but I have gathered much and it is extensive. Additionally, his connections are superb. I do not think any of these facts interest Miss de Bourgh in the least, but Lady Catherine is another matter entirely. However, I am getting ahead of myself in the tale.

So, day two: We are invited, by Miss de Bourgh, to dine. She is showing strength beyond merely physical and I do not judge Lady Catherine is wholly pleased by that development. Nonetheless, we arrived for dinner to the sweet charm of Miss Anne, the booming effervescence of Col. Fitzwilliam, who I believe intended to stay around at the risk of court-martial for abandoning his post rather than miss the spectacle and the sour disposition of Lady Catherine.

Darcy laughed aloud, certain that this was about the truth-knowing Richard and his delight in subtly tormenting his aunt.

Most delightful dinner engagement I have ever been a part of! Lady Catherine had invited her vicar, Mr. Collins, and his wife. Lovely woman, Mrs. Collins, but more on her later. Her husband, however, I am sure was included on the dinner list as an ally in the anti-foreigner and strange distant relative front.

Lizzy's comment on Mr. Collins shall not be repeated here.

Dinner itself went well enough. The food was marvelous, Raul and Miss Anne made doe eyes at each other throughout, Lady Catherine's face pruned increasingly, Rev. Collins waxed philosophical on the virtues of chastity and morality, Mrs. Collins and Col. Fitzwilliam and I hid our smiles, and the palpable tension nearly manifested physically. As I said, it was stupendous!

As we rose from the table, Raja requested to speak alone with Lady Catherine. She demurred, pointedly stating that anything he wished to say could be said in front of us all. I tried to have the good grace to look embarrassed, but simply could not muster the emotion. Raja was prepared for any eventuality, so her presumptive hope to unman him failed. Upon arrival in the parlor, he boldly asserted himself, Miss Anne sitting with quiet grace but steady strength. I think I can closely relate the entire conversation:

'Lady Catherine,' Dr. Penaflor began, 'I am sure you are aware that Miss de Bourgh and I have grown friendly over the course of our acquaintance. Although initially my interest was as a physician and strictly professional, I soon realized that my respect and admiration for her as a person had risen. With each passing day I am amazed at the intelligence, kindness, grace, and humor that are only a fragment of the positive attributes that your daughter possesses. I am beyond fortunate to have met her and would appreciate your permission to formally court her with the definitive intention of securing her hand in matrimony when, or if, she deems me worthy of her.'

“Very well done,” Darcy murmured. “Yes,” Lizzy responded, “well thought out as all the right things a girl needs to hear to render an affirmative response to a proposal.” She laughed, patting her husband's red cheek.

'That is a wonderful speech, Dr. Penaflor. What assurance can you offer me that any of it is the truth?'

'Time, Lady Catherine, will prove the truth of my words. I am honorable and a gentleman. I would not state such praise in the presence of a lady without fully meaning it; however, I shall take no offense as you do not know me well. Therefore, time and permission to intrude upon your home is requested so all parties involved can feel certain of the relationship.'

'Tell me, Dr. Penaflor, as a gentleman claiming to care for my daughter, do you account a mere doctor as adequate to husband the daughter of a lady?'

'I suppose the answer depends on what you consider an adequate husband. My profession, my lady, is of no import in regards to my love for her, and my desire to ensure her happiness and welfare. That comes from my heart. If you are referring to monetary issues, I assure you I can more than adequately provide for her needs.'

'What you really mean is that in marrying her you will not have to worry about money!'

'Mother!' Miss de Bourgh declared, but Lady Catherine and Dr. Penaflor ignored her.

'What I mean, Lady Catherine, is precisely what I said. I can more than adequately provide for her needs.'

'How do you expect to do that on a doctor's income? I do not know what the status of physicians is in Spain, but in England they barely scrape a living!'

'Lady Catherine, allow me to make several things perfectly clear for all our sakes. First, I am proud of my chosen profession and will make no apologies for it. I am not a doctor for the financial benefits, although I do not see that aspect as bleakly as you do. Secondly, Miss de Bourgh is a great lady and as such deserves only the best. If I did not think I could provide this, I would not offer, no matter my feelings. You asked if a mere doctor was worthy of your daughter and I would concur that the honest answer in light of English societal mores would be no. My personal opinions of this fact are inconsequential as I have qualification beyond my calling.'

'What sort of qualification could a vagabond from Spain possibly possess?'

Raul smiled, glancing to Miss de Bourgh and then to me. Here comes the humorous part, but I also know Raja, and he abhors touting his connections. Few know anything beyond that he is a Spaniard. 'Lady Catherine, my father is Duke Manuel Penaflor Aleman de Vigo. My mother is now the Duchess de Vigo, but was born an Infanta of the royal house.'

He went on for quite a bit, outlining all the various interconnections in his family, none of which I can unravel and remember. All the while Lady Catherine's face was paling further. Frankly, I drifted off for a spell as I always do when Raja elaborates on his family relationships. I was brought to wakefulness by the blessed sound of utter silence. Now, Elizabeth dear, do not read this next part as I intend to reveal my evil nature, and as you esteem me nearly god-like in your adoration, I would hate to burst your bubble.

Lizzy dissolved into laughter, wiping tears from her eyes as she gasped, “Oh William, I so adore your uncle!” Darcy smiled, offering his handkerchief.

William, your aunt was white as a ghost and stammering inarticulate noises. Col. Fitzwilliam was red as a beet in an attempt to not laugh, Mrs. Collins stared into her lap with magnetic intensity, Rev. Collins was gazing at Raul with pure worship, and Miss de Bourgh was glowing with pride. I am quite certain he could have dropped to one knee and secured her hand on the spot. Anyway, I could not tear my eyes from Lady Catherine. I have rarely known such joy! She was completely at a loss for words, so I bluntly filled the gap.

'Well, Catherine, seems to me that Dr. Penaflor outranks you. My, my, my. What shall you do? Cannot very well withhold consent to a genuine royal, can you?' Yes, yes! I enjoyed myself immensely and could only wish with all my being that James were there. Lord, how he disliked Anne's sister!

Well, there you have it. I know you continued to read, Elizabeth, so can only pray you still love me and want these hands to deliver your baby. Lady Catherine eventually consented to Raul's courtship and I departed two days later for London, leaving Raja to his pursuits. Have not heard from him since but suppose I shall need to find a new associate. Col. Fitzwilliam accompanied me, and we two bachelors managed to have a bit of fun ere my departure to Devon. Do not worry, William, Mrs. Smyth would not allow me to ransack Darcy House too profoundly. It remains largely intact.

“Better be or there shall be hell to pay,” Darcy murmured with a smile. Lizzy was dazedly imagining the vision of a pestered and flustered Mrs. Smyth with no small amount of pleasure.

The family here in Honiton greets you both. They have nothing but praise for Elizabeth, to all of which I wholeheartedly concur, and entreat me to send their congratulations on your blessing. I do pray your child is half as adorable as Cousin Nicole's two. They have the roundest brown eyes and are simply sweet enough to eat! Naturally they love me and I am having a marvelous time. However, I will return to Pemberley in late September, or sometime in there. I deem it only polite to visit with Mrs. Smyth again for a spell as I am sure she misses me greatly. I do hope all is well with you both. Enjoy your holiday at the seaside. Oh, I nearly forgot! Mrs. Collins's pregnancy is progressing nicely, not that we spoke of it, naturally, but I could readily discern that all was well. She is a delightful woman. So warm and humorous. She spoke of you, Elizabeth, with tremendous affection. We had no opportunity to speak privately, not that this would have been appropriate, but I wanted you to know her status.

With deepest regard and love to you both,

George, alias Dr. Darcy for you, Elizabeth

Darcy was grinning as he folded the letter. Glancing into his wife's dreamy face, he reached to brush the backs of his fingers over a velvet cheek. “Do not fear, love. I am positive our baby shall be the loveliest on the face of the earth.”

Lizzy laughed, turning to kiss his knuckles. “Yes, surely. However, I was lost in the delicious vision of a harried Mrs. Smyth.” She sighed deeply, an evil twinkle in her eyes.

Darcy assumed a stern face, although his eyes twinkled as well. “How unbecoming of you, Elizabeth Darcy. I am aghast.”

Lizzy merely laughed further while Darcy rose to deposit the letter onto his desk. They sat in his study, the late afternoon August sun blazing through the open windows. No breeze was forthcoming and had not been for days upon days, therefore the room was stifling. Lizzy wore the thinnest dress she could find, refusing a petticoat thicker than the sheer muslin one, which meant that her legs did show slightly, but she was tolerably cool. She observed her husband, dressed to the nines although in a light kerseymere, and wondered for the thousandth time how he could appear so comfortable. Not even a sheen of sweat along his brow. Of course, Darcy was perpetually collected and calm.

“I certainly enjoyed your uncle's version of events over Miss de Bourgh's,” Lizzy said. “Although the emotion in her letter was so touching.”

“Yes,” Darcy replied from his desk chair where he was rifling through a stack of folded parchment envelopes, “and, if you recall, my dearest, she expressed her wish to forgo the long courtship and hasten to the marriage part.”

“She did not!”

“I beg to differ. Ah! Here it is.” He fluttered the pages with a flourish, smirking at his wife, and then clearing his throat as if preparing to address Parliament. “She writes, and I quote, 'In the end Mother did consent to allow Dr. Penaflor the right to court me. Oh William! I cannot express my happiness. I must thank you for encouraging me to follow my heart and to trust. I have no doubts regarding my feelings toward Dr. Penaflor and know he feels as strongly. Love at nearly first sight! I never anticipated this happening to me. Honestly I had relinquished all hope of finding love and cannot repress the trepidation that I shall wake to discover it is all a dream. I appreciate Dr. Penaflor's design to court me properly and comprehend it derives from his esteem; however, I must confess a desire to hasten time. Is this selfish of me, William? My life has altered drastically these past three months, and my joy is nearly complete. Suddenly my wildest wishes are within my grasp, and I am aware that the natural womanly response is to revel in the season of wooing and flirtation. Nonetheless, my greatest urge is to be married to sweet Raul and begin our life together.'”

Lizzy assumed a haughty pout in the face of Darcy's smug grin. “Very well, Mr. Darcy. I shall admit my error; however, I detect only the yearning to be bonded in matrimony and no allusion to 'fun' as you so called it.”

“The fun is implied, love.”

Lizzy laughed and shook her head, turning to another letter waiting on the table. “Shall I read Papa's letter aloud?”

“It is addressed to you, Elizabeth. You can share with me later if you wish as I must currently attend to this boring albeit necessary business packet from Mr. Daniels.”

Thereafter, in quiet harmony they concentrated on their individual undertakings while ever with an unconscious awareness of the other's presence.

My dearest Lizzy,

My beloved daughter, why do you insist on exponentially whitening my hair even further? When you were two years of age, you toddled outside and narrowly avoided falling into the duck pond, saved by Mr. Hill, who happened to be walking by. From that day onward, my precocious second daughter, I awaited the day when some brave man would assume caretaking duties, allotting me the opportunity to breathe freely. Overall I judge Mr. Darcy has adequately fulfilled the role, but armed bandits? Heavens, child!

Naturally I maintained my equilibrium, trusting in your assurance that you and the babe are well. Your mother, however, dissolved into nervous prostration, taking to her bed in a near swoon. Kitty attended to her with a diligence that surprised me. I confess to retreating to my study, having divined ages ago that my presence is in no way placating. Suffer no guilt, my dear girl, as you know your mother fairly wallows in her misery. Dear Jane was secretly relieved, as your trauma diverted her mother's flustering over their relocation.

Luckily, fortune smiled on us all as joyous news was forthcoming. I will proceed in the hope that the latest Bennet blessing is revealed by me. Three days after receiving your missive, your mother yet abed, I was visited by Mr. Joshua Daniels. As you likely have already postulated, he rode to Hertfordshire to obtain permission to wed our Mary. Naturally I deemed it my right and duty as father of the intended to toy with him a bit, make him sweat, as they say. I daresay he reacted with far greater amusement than either Mr. Bingley or Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bingley was simply too befuddled to even ask my permission for Jane's hand, an oversight I reluctantly judged merciful in light of the general mayhem of that day. Mr. Darcy, of course, captured me utterly unaware. My usually rapid mental faculties were dulled by surprise and the ungodly hour of the day. If I did not know the truth of the situation, I would hazard to guess he planned it that way! Besides, he was so disarmingly charming and pathetic that I could not muster the heart to trifle with his frayed emotions. Well, not too much anyway.

Mr. Daniels, on the other hand, was an expectation. Via correspondence from your Uncle Gardiner, I knew the courtship was progressing at a stately pace so rightly figured it was merely a matter of time. I did not anticipate his arrival on that particular day, but was prepared for the eventuality. In the end, of course, I gave my blessing as I fully intended to do all along. He is a delightful young man and I have no doubts will care for our Mary. By the way, thank your husband for his personal endorsement of and information about the young solicitor. Having not had the luxury of acquainting ourselves with him to any great degree, your mother and I are eased by Mr. Darcy's recommendation. Of course, Edward and Violet have become quite familiar and praise him glowingly. Mary is prosaic in her commentary, but there is an underlying emotion that belies her conservative pose. All in all, we are delighted with her choice.

I do not know when they plan to wed, nor where. I chose not to question Mr. Daniels on the particulars as I had no desire to have the boy faint in my study! London would be my guess, although Mary is very fond of our vicar and the Meryton Chapel. I have not yet heard from Mary as all this transpired just yesterday. So, it has been an eventful two weeks between the Bingleys' news, your adventure, and Mary's engagement. I almost, for once, pity your mother's theatrically fraught nerves. Now, luckily for us all, she has rebounded and nearly has the wedding all planned. Or at least I am assuming so as that is all she speaks of. I, as I can only confess to you, my dear Lizzy, ignore her most awfully.

Well, there you have it! Life at Longbourn treads on with the usual undulating waves consisting of valleys of monotony and peaks of drama. I have resigned myself to Jane's departure with equanimity. In truth I have long suspected they would move and am thrilled for them. We do look forward to visiting, if you will have us, at some point this winter. I must see if the Pemberley library is all I have been led to believe it is, and we wish to tour Hasberry and Pemberley. Of course, the premiere draw will be my first grandchild. Yes, Lizzy, even beyond the library!

Please take care of yourself, my darling daughter. Dr. Darcy said your pregnancy is proceeding without mishap, and as he appears determined to attend the birth, I am greatly comforted. Nonetheless, I know you, Lizzy! Do not be foolish. Rest and listen to your husband, who I know has far greater sense and wisdom than you.

With all my love,

Papa

Darcy had diligently applied himself to Mr. Daniels's correspondence, but was fully aware of his wife's constant chuckles. Therefore, he was not the slightest bit surprised when she jumped out of her seat and crossed to his desk.

“You must read this, William!”

He took the proffered letter and sat back with a contented sigh, his father-in-law's writing always amusing. Lizzy rang for refreshments, it having been over two hours since lunch and the baby demanded nourishment. She stood by the window, rubbing her belly while their son somersaulted, and watched Darcy's face as he read.

He smiled, laughed, and grunted precisely as she knew he would during certain sentences, adding an occasional comment. “Brave am I? Yes, that is true… Poor Mr. Daniels!… Pathetic? Well, I suppose so… 'Not too much' he says! The man tortured and terrified me… Hmmm… You are welcome, Mr. Bennet… There shall be the test, my love. I will have you and our son stand across from the library door and see where he goes first… Ha! 'Greater sense and wisdom.' From the mouth of your father. Surely you cannot argue with that?” He grinned up at his wife, who ignored the query.

Mary's correspondence arrived three days later. Lizzy sat on the terrace, fanning herself and praying for a breeze, no matter how faint. Darcy was at the stables. On occasion Lizzy would accompany him for a spell, but today he planned to assist with breaking a horse, and Lizzy absolutely refused to watch. The process terrified her and she fretted all day while he was at the endeavor. Darcy knew her fears and generally evaded elaborating on his planned activities, but if she pointedly inquired, he would not lie. He deplored worrying her but could not resist the lure of the corral. Lizzy recognized his love for the work so attempted to hide her anxiety and disapproval, learning it best to not ask his agenda for the day.

Therefore, it was painfully obvious when he was to train! If Darcy's docket included riding about the farms, or visiting a fishery or mill, or checking on the breeding proceedings, he was open in sharing, giving her a complete rundown of his time so she would know precisely where he was and when he expected to return. If, on the other hand, he remained mum or became vague, she knew it meant a day of vigorous and dangerous exercise with a wild horse.

Such had been the case this morning. He woke her early, the sun barely illuminating the room. Lizzy groaned and vainly attempted to ignore the sweet kisses being rained along her shoulder and the insistent hands roaming freely. Her husband, however, was in a mood and, as was generally the case, finagled matters to arrive at the outcome he wanted. Afterwards, just as a blissfully content and tingly Lizzy was drifting back into sleep, she asked groggily, “What are your plans for the day? Are you staying with me or going for a ride?”

She could tell instantly by the silence and slight stiffening of his body that the news was unfavorable. Darcy was a terrible liar and even after all this time had yet to arrive at a plausible alibi. “I shall be riding, yes, then I… have business with Mr. Thurber and… um, well, boring… issues to attend to, and… I do not know when I shall return, but certainly for dinner, my love, so do not worry. I love you.”

Now, staring at the rippling water of the lake, Lizzy sighed deeply and gave up on her prayers for a cooling wind. A sudden burst of restlessness consumed her and, grabbing her bonnet, she rose to her feet, deciding that a walk among the trees was essential. She pivoted to the door, nearly colliding with the maid.

“Forgive me, madam. I was bringing these to you.” She held out two envelopes. “The post just arrived.”

“Thank you, Abigail. Could you please inform Mrs. Reynolds that I will be walking the north trail to the rock pond?”

The trail leading to the pond skirted the edge of the forest. The canopy of leaves coupled with the perpetually damp loam of the floor created a significantly cooler atmosphere. Lizzy immediately perked up under the shade, rejuvenated to the point of adequately relinquishing the unrelenting angst over Darcy's employment. Sitting on one of the artistically arranged and sheltered rock benches beside the pond's rim, Lizzy removed her shoes and commenced reading.

Dear Lizzy,

I am sincerely praying that my news will reach your ears via my pen rather than Papa's. Although, in the end it matters naught as long as you are made aware of a fabulous occurrence. For cert it shall be no great marvel to you as I have spoken of little else in each letter I have sent. Yes, dear sister, naturally I speak of me and Mr. Daniels. He has proposed! I feel as if I should insert the caveat “finally” although in truth our courtship has advanced speedily. Odd, is it not, how when the correct mate appears it simply fits? I imagine it must have been the same with you and Mr. Darcy as your relationship transpired in short order. Of course, you know I tend to not be gushy or emotional by nature, but Mr. Daniels does elicit sensations of tenderness and whimsy unfamiliar in me. Now I comprehend at least some of the ridiculous expressions you would share with Mr. Darcy. Hopefully we are not as nonsensical. Anyway, I should describe the proposal as all my new women friends are consistently inquiring, so I have deduced it is of vital interest to others.

I have ascertained that Mr. Daniels, albeit sensible and serious, does have a romantic disposition and can be mildly impatient. Therefore, it was of no great surprise that he rode off to Hertfordshire, unbeknownst to me, and asked Papa for my hand. Is that not sweet? Apparently Papa teased him a bit but eventually gave his consent. That evening, just two days ago now, Mr. Daniels arrived for dinner, having conspired with Aunt and Uncle to secure a span of time alone with me. I was momentarily shocked when first Aunt left the room, followed ten minutes later by Uncle, both mumbling something vague in excuse. Naturally I am not totally dull and presumed his intent before he dropped to his knee. Oh, Lizzy, it was so very cute! Mr. Daniels, if you recall, is quite bashful in general; however, we have reached a place of relative ease with each other. So, to see him blushing and stammering was fairly amusing. I maintained my calm and waited in serene silence until he finally (and here the word applies) blurted out the actual words, “Will you marry me?”

Oh the urge to laugh! However, I did not. Despite the humor of the situation I was, and am, deeply moved and exceedingly content. I said yes, obviously, and tried to get him off his knee, but he stubbornly remained until the ring was secure on my finger. Now it is official. His family is delighted. They, I say with a slight blush, adore me. I truly care for them as well. We have yet to decide the wedding details. I wanted to write you as soon as possible. Lizzy, as generally unromantic and stoic as I am, I want you to know how blissful I am. Also, I want to thank you and Mr. Darcy most profoundly. The sequence of events that led Mr. Daniels to my side is all because of you two. I shall be eternally grateful, and I know Mr. Daniels feels the same. He wishes to thank Mr. Darcy as well and asked me to convey his heartfelt gratitude, as it would be inappropriate, his words, to personally write to a client.

One point we are mutually firm on is dating the wedding for after your baby's birth as we insist on the presence of you and Mr. Darcy. Probably mid to late February if this seems feasible for you? We need the time to plan as Mr. Daniels intends to purchase a house for us and I wish to spend a few more months in Hertfordshire. I will keep you informed. I hope all is well with you and the baby. Please take care, Lizzy. Give my sincerest regards to Mr. Darcy. I know Georgiana is traveling so have written to her via Pemberley. Feel free to share my news if you write to her prior to her return. I love you, Lizzy.

God Bless,

Mary

Lizzy reread the letter several times. Partly this was due to her overwhelming joy in her sister's good fortune. Additionally it was due to a lack of enthusiasm toward reading the second letter.

It was from Lydia.

Lydia had written to Lizzy exactly four times, including this one, since riding off with Mr. Wickham to Newcastle nearly one year ago. Lizzy had written a dozen times, considered it her duty to do so, but in all honesty did not exalt in her sister's responses. Aside from the fact that she and her flighty youngest sister had never been tremendously akin, there was the uncomfortable reality of Lydia's marriage and current living situation that drove a deeper wedge between them. Lydia's letters were typical of her personality: self-centered, erratic, and unintelligent. Top that with incessant references to “my dear Wickham” and Lizzy was nauseous and headachy each time.

To make matters worse, it was the only area of her life she did not share with Darcy. He knew that she wrote to Lydia and was aware that she received the occasional reply; however, he never asked for details. He wished no ill upon Lydia in her marriage. Rather he harbored extreme guilt over the arrangement, knowing it was his involvement that shackled her to Wickham, even though there was no alternative as she had flatly refused to leave her “sweet Wickham's” side.

Darcy told Lizzy, much later, that his original plan was to use all the considerable means at his disposal to hush the scandal and restore Lydia to her family. Wickham was perfectly amenable to taking the money Darcy offered and disappearing, but Lydia refused to leave. He could not very well drag her away kicking and screaming, although it had crossed his mind, but then the scandal would be far more difficult to smother.

Furthermore, it had not taken Wickham long after his initial shock at seeing Darcy materialize with Lydia's Uncle Gardiner to realize Darcy's involvement in the situation was attributed to an attachment to Lizzy Bennet. The two men had known each other for too many years. Wickham uncannily deciphered the puzzle no matter how bland and uncommunicative Darcy attempted to be. Therefore Darcy had been forced to increase the sum offered Wickham in order to secure him marrying her, a step Wickham patently had no previous intention of taking. Even then, Darcy had worried that he would not follow through while simultaneously praying that he would run away and save Lydia the sad fate of being his wife.

During Lizzy and Darcy's engagement the topic had come up only once in a rebuttal to Mrs. Bennet discussing the guest list. Darcy bluntly stated that under no circumstance was Wickham to be invited to the wedding. Mrs. Bennet had moaned and dithered, muttering uncharitable comments about Mr. Darcy's character until Lizzy nearly snapped, saved only by her father steering her mother out of the room for a stern lashing. It was awful, increasingly so by the intense distress and anger of Darcy. Of course, the whole episode was unnecessary as Lydia was far too involved in her own affairs to bother traveling the distance to her sister's wedding, nor would Wickham have endured Darcy's ire.

Upon the receipt of Lydia's first correspondence after Lizzy's marriage, a full one month after in fact, Lizzy finally heard the entire story of Darcy's search for Wickham and Lydia. Her husband's lingering pain over the situation, remorse for being unable to rescue Lydia, and hatred toward Wickham was profound. Reliving the episode was tortuous, augmented by a residual grief due to his belief at the time that Elizabeth was beyond his reach. The last pieces of the mystery were revealed. They hugged, kissed, and made love, then vowed to never speak of it again.

It was not that Darcy refused to utter Wickham's or Lydia's name or hear them spoken in his presence; he merely preferred to avoid the topic. Therefore, Lizzy chose to facilitate tranquility and impede any suffering touching her husband by hiding the letters received and never mentioning her sister. Fortunately it was not a difficult chore, but she still hated anything remotely secretive between her and her spouse.

“Quit stalling, Lizzy,” she chided herself, opening the letter with a sigh.

Dear Lizzy,

You are pregnant! Oh Lizzy, I completely forgot. I was cleaning out my desk and ran across one of your letters, how do you have the time to write so much, Lizzy? Unbelievable! Anyway, I reread it and remembered. Congratulations! You are happy, are you? You said you were and I am sure Mr. Darcy wishes for an heir. I do not think I am at all ready to have a baby. Growing fat and being sick, oh how horrible! I do hope that does not happen to you, Lizzy. Of course you are far thinner than me so maybe it shall not affect you so. The Major's wife had her third baby six months ago, three! Can you imagine? Anyway, she is still huge, poor dear. I heard she was about my size once, so I fear that could be my fate! My dear Wickham is in no hurry to have babies, so I need not concern myself yet. So are you feeling well? Have you been sick? I do pray the delivery goes well. I hear people die when having babies! Of course Mama had no problems so hopefully you will take after her. I daresay you and Mr. Darcy desire a male? Yes? I am doing fantastically! Newcastle is a huge city, Lizzy! There are so many diversions here. The parks are beautiful, the seashore is near although far too cold this far to the north, the shopping is fantastic, and the theater is amazing! Better than London, most people say. I adore all the parties. Lizzy, the dancing is frequent and so delightful. Balls nearly every Saturday! I have made so many friends. There are so many Scots here! They talk with a strange accent, a burr it is called, and they are big and sweaty usually. Scary but intriguing. My dear Wickham is busy so often, spends so many nights working, poor darling. His superiors torture him! Work, work, work all the time. He comes home at the wee hours of the morning tired and mussed up. Luckily my lady friends keep me entertained. Everyone is so kind! I never lack for dancing partners as the officers sympathize with my sweet Wickham's absence, poor baby! You would think that working such long hours would mean he is paid more, yet we barely manage to survive! He tries so hard, my dear husband, but there is only so much one man can do. He does try to win at the tables on occasion, just to augment our income, you understand, but the scoundrels cheat so here! Of course, you do not have to worry about money! So fortunate. Mama wrote about your fine carriage and jewels and gowns. My George said it is expected as a Darcy and that Mr. Darcy would have it no other way. Well, do not worry about me, Lizzy. I admit I envy you just a small bit! Nonetheless, I am happy with my friends and my dear Wickham. See, it all turned out wonderfully despite Mr. Darcy and Uncle fretting so. Oh, I hear my dear George downstairs! I must close now, Lizzy. I know you will write me soon. You are so good! I do not know how you find the time. I thought being Mistress of Pemberley would keep you occupied. My Wickham says it is probably because Mr. Darcy does all the work himself and does not trust you to do anything. I do not believe this as I know how bright you are, but do not tell him I disagree! Give my best to Mr. Darcy. I love you, Lizzy!

Your sister,

Lydia Wickham

“Oh Lydia, you silly, naïve fool,” Lizzy whispered, folding the letter slowly. She retrieved a handkerchief from her pocket to dab at teary eyes, rubbing her thumb gently over the parchment while losing herself in sad musings. With head bowed and thoughts drifting, she did not note the faint crunch of boot heels on sandy path.

“Elizabeth? Are you well?”

She glanced up, mildly startled, but recognizing her husband's voice instantly. He stood a couple feet away, the sun blocked by an exceedingly tall body thus throwing his face into shadow. The tone of concern was unmistakable, however, even without visualizing the creases between furrowed brows.

Lizzy smiled, brushing quickly at her eyes and flipping the letter over. “I am fine, dearest. What are you doing here?” She held out her hand and he approached, sitting onto the bench beside her.

“I was told you had walked here, and since my heart was breaking with my need to see your face, I decided to forego washing up or changing, hastening here to find my beautiful wife with teary eyes and sad face.” He ran his fingers across her cheek, nodding toward the letter. “Distressing news?”

“No, no. The opposite actually. I heard from Mary. She shared her blessed news with her usual aplomb, insisting I thank you specifically for the initial introduction. Mr. Daniels considers you a matchmaker extraordinaire.”

Darcy laughed. “How kind, although if I recall, I was out of town at the time and had little to do with the meeting. Still, it is an excellent match and I am very happy for her, for them both actually. Mary is a lovely girl and will make a steady, faithful wife.” He continued to caress her cheek, staring intently into her eyes all the while. “However, I sense dissimulation on your part. These are sad eyes, not happy eyes.”

Lizzy dropped her gaze, the intensity of his stare unnerving her. “It is nothing, William. Better if we do not speak of it.”

He frowned, transferring his hands to clasp both of hers, silence falling for a brief time. “Elizabeth, I appreciate that I have no right to insist you divulge all information to me. Secrets are a natural human necessity, I suppose. However, I would hate to think you felt you could not share something troubling with me. That I had somehow given you reason to conclude I was disinterested or vexed with any issue related to you. If the former, then simply say so. If the latter, then we must talk about it.”

Lizzy shook her head, actually chuckling slightly as she returned her gaze to his serious face. “William, you truly are too amazing. I could almost become annoyed at that fact alone if it was not so wonderful.” She sighed, patting his puzzled face. “I only wish to spare you pain, my love. I… It is a letter from Lydia, is all. She is well,” she hastily added, Darcy's countenance instantaneously darkening with sorrow. “Too well, in fact. Giddy with the joy of balls and friends and her dear Wickham.” She shrugged, staring into the pond. “I likely read too much in between the lines as she never relates anything but her bounding happiness. I am not sure if I am sad or thankful for her perpetual immaturity and gullibility.”

She leaned against Darcy's side, his arm surrounding her with a gentle squeeze. Silence fell again, the soft chirping of birds and steady trickle of water over rocks serenely persisting despite the mild tension in the air. When he broke the calm, his voice was quite low and hesitant. “Does he… harm her in any way, do you think?”

“No. I am certain even foolish Lydia would recognize and not tolerate physical violence. As I said, she seems happy. She says he works until morning and that they have little money and that he gambles, only to make money of course. I suppose it is uncharitable of me to immediately leap to negative conclusions, but I rather doubt he is working, nor that he gambles out of duty!”

Darcy released a guttural sound that clearly relayed his views on Wickham's behavior. “It is as I imagined it would be for them. I did harbor some hope that matrimony and the responsibility incurred would breed a sense of honor in Wickham, and perhaps it may yet to some degree. At least he has not abandoned her and is maintaining his post.” He paused, shifting on the hard rock and pulling her tighter into his side. “Elizabeth, I have a confession. You know I do not enjoy speaking of… him, and the guilt that abides in my heart has caused you to not broach the subject. In truth I am relieved and I do appreciate your compassion. Nonetheless, I do not wish for secrets between us if at all possible to avoid.”

She glanced up quickly, tears springing to her eyes. “Forgive me, William! I did not mean…”

He halted her with a kiss, smiling as he resumed, “Allow me to finish. The secret I refer to is my own. I have vast connections, as you know, and have utilized my contacts to keep abreast of Wickham's activities both personal and professional. I receive regular dispatches, in fact. So I am asking you to forgive me for not sharing what I know.”

Lizzy's mouth had fallen open and her eyes were wide. Darcy kissed her cheek, holding her gaze as he continued, “It is as you have deduced. Wickham is not faithful to your sister, although I am assured that he is discreet, which is a surprising improvement. He gambles too much and drinks, but he does pay his bills, adequately fulfills his duties, has been in no serious offenses, and by all outward appearances cares for Lydia's needs. As you say she claims, my sources assure me that she is content. How much she is aware of Wickham's activities, I do not know. Many women in her place simply deny the truth, living in a state of willing blindness. I would have wished more for her in life, as I know you would as well, my love, but it is not as horrible as I envisioned.” He smiled wryly. “I guess that is enough to be thankful for.”

Lizzy was dumbfounded. “Why would you do this, William? Lydia freely placed herself in this situation. It is not your fault! You have no reason to exert such efforts or worry so.”

“Logically I comprehend the truth of your assertions, Elizabeth. Lydia is a foolish girl to be sure; however, you know she would not be in this particular situation if not for me. My damnable pride and sense of politesse, not wanting to cause scandal to my family. It allowed a villain to roam free. To charm, flatter, and destroy young girls at will. And I was forced to see them married!” He shook his head and closed his eyes briefly. “Nonetheless, I watch over Lydia not out of guilt… well, not completely anyway, but because it is ethical and obligatory. She is your sister, and thus my family. I will not allow overt harm to come to her. If Wickham's behavior becomes unmanageable or hurtful, I have people in place who will remove her, forcefully if necessary.”

He paused, a cloud crossing his features and tight clenching of his jaw apparent. Not for the first time Lizzy sensed there was more to his personal story of Wickham. The bits she knew from his letter and a few vague comments or short conversations like now did not fully compute. She remembered the rage on his face as far back as their days in Hertfordshire. If she hadn't been so angry with him at his insulting proposal she would have shrunk in fear from the fury evident when she threw Wickham's name into his face. And there were other unguarded moments when she had noticed expressions of profound disgust or anger when Wickham's name was mentioned. Curiosity to know more of their youth burned within, but some instinct warned her that it was likely worse than she imagined and perhaps more than she was prepared to handle. So she never asked.

He sighed faintly and shrugged imperceptibly, his face clearing as he turned toward her.

Darcy cupped her cheek, smiling in peace. “Let us make a new vow. I shall put the past affairs with Wickham behind me as best as I can, and we shall share our future knowledge freely. I cannot promise to embrace lengthy conversations on the subject, but I will not avoid them or wince overly. Deal?”

Laughing lightly, Lizzy kissed him in joy. “Have I told you lately, beloved, that you are the best man in the world?”

“Yes, but you may say it again if you wish,” he offered with a grin.

She encircled his neck, drawing his forehead to hers. “You are the best man in the world, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and I love you.”