Chapter Two
A Bump In The Road
Listening intently with an ear pressed to the door, Georgiana's girlish mouth dropped. Carefully, she turned the knob of the bedchamber, opening it a crack to peek inside the room.
There was Miss Price, in her night coat, queerly holding a brush up to her mouth, bounding, and twirling around the room, while singing enthusiastically.
"I made it through the wilderness; somehow I made it through. Didn't know how lost I was til I found you…"
As Georgiana spied on their guest, she found herself wanting to rush in and join in Miss Price's exuberance. It would be highly improper, as her brother would most assuredly tell her.
Then again, perhaps not.
Since Miss Price came into his life, Fitzwilliam had been going through a dramatic and positive change in his overall nature. The usual seriousness of his countenance had been replaced with a kinder side few had witnessed before. Even the servants and land tenants were whispering about this rebirth.
Georgiana knew everyone attributed this transformation of the Master of Pemberley to the remarkable woman who was now bouncing jubilantly up and down on the canopied bed.
"Oh, you made me feel…oh, you made me feel, shiny and new. Like a virgin. Oh! Touched for the very first time."
Suppressing her giggles, Georgiana was excessively glad when Fitzwilliam informed her that the wedding was being moved forward and he would be marrying Miss Price the next day. Even though she only had been acquainted with their honored guest for three weeks, Georgiana already felt like Miss Price was her beloved, elder sister.
The staff was also alerted to the forthcoming union, causing excitement to ripple throughout the halls of the estate. The general perception was that they highly esteemed the future Mistress of Pemberley. All would agree there was no one quite like her. She was astoundingly unique, fun-spirited, and not in the least dull. No further inquiry was pursued why the master desired her to be his life mate.
Moreover, because of Miss Price's constructive influence over her, Georgiana was able to resolve some wrongs she had grievously sown.
When Georgiana disclosed that she threw herself at George Wickham to Miss Price, she had been non-judgmental. When Wickham downplayed her affections, and she told severe falsehoods to rebuke his rejection, even then, Miss Price did not condemn her. This reception had been unexpected, and Georgiana was instantly drawn in to look upon Miss Price in awed veneration.
Therefore, when Miss Price took her aside two days later after her arrival, Georgiana listened intently to the astute lady enlightening her to the serious repercussions that might have come out of her folly with Mr. Wickham.
Miss Price set the dramatic scene with her Fitzwilliam and Mr. Wickham facing off with swords drawn. Sharp steel upon steel echoed in the secluded clearing in a duel to the death.
The brutality of the fight would be revealed with flesh being sliced like a hot knife through margarine and blood gushing out of veins like water coming out of a tap. Although she had no inkling what margarine or a tap was, a vivid picture formed of the violence.
Miss Price continued with her narrative of the certainty of blood loss, causing one of the two men to grow weak and careless. This would lead to the inevitable conclusion that a parry would be unsuccessfully blocked, and the blade would find its mark, piercing through a vital organ.
The unfortunate recipient would drop to the ground, succumbing valiantly without knowing it was all for a silly little girl's false testimony.
Who would it have been? Wickham, who thought so much of her that he did not call her out on her false accusations? Or would it have been her dear brother, who loved her so dearly that he would gladly die to defend her honor? Miss Price then asked her which one she could live with dying for her under those circumstances.
Georgiana's reaction to Miss Price's scenario was acute. She could not contain her tears and cried out her shame for being unspeakably spiteful.
Begging for help on how to make amends, Georgiana asked what she should do. Miss Price's answer came out in one word, and the word was to confess. Immediate anxiety grew at the thought, but she had no recourse but to nod meekly in agreement.
Fearing her brother's reaction, she asked Miss Price if she would accompany her. Miss Price said yes on the condition she calls her Amanda, which enthusiastically Georgiana agreed to do.
Taking her hand, Amanda then began to lead her to what she perceived to be the location of the study. However, being unfamiliar with the estate's layout, Amanda allowed her to redirect their course to the masculine domain, smelling of spice and well-worn leather.
The door was open with Fitzwilliam standing tall at the massive window, thoughtfully looking out over the grounds of Pemberley with his hands casually clasped behind his back. Turning to the sound of the light knock, his face lighted at the sight of the two of them framed in the doorway.
"And to what do I owe this pleasure?"
"A confession," Amanda answered for her, stepping into the space while moving her forwarded to stand in front, making it very clear who would be entering the confessional.
His eyebrow rose, and his head tilted slightly, peering down at her. Georgiana felt her mouth go dry.
"A confession?" Darcy asked with doubt in his tone. "What disorder could you have possibly done, little one, to bring you before the judgment seat?"
Georgiana found she could not speak, but alas, she did not need to do so for Amanda spoke on her behalf.
"Yes, she has something to say. Now, go easy on her, Darcy" Amanda defended, from which Georgiana was vastly grateful.
He half nodded, saying without words that he acknowledged his guest's request, giving Georgiana the needed push to find her voice.
"I did something very grievous, dear brother, and Amanda has helped me to see clearly that I must make efforts in reconciling with those I have wronged."
Motioning her further into the room, his face reflected seriousness. Amanda turned to go when Darcy politely commanded her to stay. Stepping back into the room, her future dear sister took her position directly behind her, becoming a tower of strength to lean against if needed. Georgiana never before had this in her life, even when her mother was alive. It felt very good. Very good, indeed.
Coming around from his desk, Fitzwilliam leaned on its front center and crossed his arms over his chest.
"What do you have to say?"
Georgiana started to quake in her slippers at the towering man before her and was about to turn around and bolt when she felt Amanda's reassuring hand on her shoulder and her voice whisper in her ear.
"Go on, Georgie, he is more bark than bite."
The girl's courage was renewed with Amanda's steady cajoling. Swallowing hard, she looked up at her brother and started to confess everything.
He listened intently and remained passive as she acknowledged her wrongdoing. Finishing, Georgiana bowed her head in disgrace and waited for his shocked dismay and stern words of disappointment.
The words never came.
Darcy frowned and felt disappointed, however, if Georgiana could have read his mind right then she would be surprised that in all actuality, he was sternly berating himself.
Amanda had been right. Wickham was not as he seemed. He misjudged him, and he realized, excruciatingly, his sister was not the perfect girl-angel.
It pained him also to realize Georgiana's flaws were likely because of his lack of parental prowess. He had ceremoniously overindulged her since their father's death. Nevertheless, what she had done to Wickham was distressing and inexcusable. Furthermore, her deception wounded him a great deal.
Assigning disciplinary measures on Georgiana was a new experience for him. What to do? He glanced at Amanda for direction.
Knowing instantly what his look asked, her face contorted into comical expression and she shrugged her shoulders. Sighing deeply, he reached out and gently lifted Georgiana's chin to look at him.
In a gentle voice, he asked, "What do you think should be done about this, young lady?"
"I must apologize to Mr. Wickham, and promise to behave better in the future and…and…"
A sob escaped Georgiana as she flung her arms around his waist, pressing her face into his abdomen.
"Oh brother, please forgive me for lying to you. I will not do it again!"
Darcy's heart melted as he quickly returned her embrace. Looking up at Amanda, her hands were clasped to her mouth and eyes brimming with tears. The sincerity of Georgiana's regret had its effect on them both. It was a precious moment.
He felt Georgiana press tighter into him as she cried, "I am very glad you did not kill him! Oh, thank you, thank you, kind brother!"
Darcy's brows rose as he looked to Amanda for answers.
Amanda smirked, "I told her what might have happened if there had been a duel between you two. I would not have wanted that on my conscience."
Darcy was grateful as well, for his first impulse was to run his sword through Wickham. However, he was put off indefinitely by a recent discovery that was revealed weeks before. That disclosure literally saved Wickham's life and was the only reason Darcy tolerated his continued presence at Pemberley.
"It's apparent who she believes would have come up the victor," Amanda added. "That must bring some satisfaction."
"Rightly so," he replied. "While Wickham excelled in dodging activity involving objects with sharp edges and points, I was committed to my tutelage on defense."
"Sounds like George," she mused. "In a sticky wicket, I'll be standing behind you."
"I will endeavor to protect you with my life," he said seriously. "For existence is wasted without you."
A pinkish flush crossed over on Amanda's face and a warm smile formed on her lips. "At times, Darcy, I just can't believe you are for real."
Darcy wanted to take her into his embrace to prove he was for real, but his young sister was standing between them. Instead, he let his smoldering expression convey to Amanda, without words, he would shortly provide the further evidence she was seeking.
Turning his attention back to Georgiana, he noticed her sobs had subsided into sniffles.
"You are forgiven, Georgiana, from the bottom of my heart, but some privileges will be revoked for your thoughtless actions."
She nodded and choked out, "I accept any decision you make."
He proceeded to name those privileges, including riding her mare, canceling a much-anticipated trip to London, and an additional hour dedicated to her studies, then concluding with a sincere letter of apology to Mr. Wickham.
After the sentence was pronounced, Darcy bent down, kissed the top of her head, turning her around to march her out of the door, instructing she stay in her room until further notice.
As Georgiana exited the room, Amanda went to follow, but his hand caught hers and drew her back into the room. Shutting the door, he took her into his arms, moved his mouth close to hers, and stopped to whisper on her lips.
"I too, find the need to confirm you are not a figment of my imagination. Show me, my love, you are real."
Amanda's face took on a tender expression, as she gently took both sides of his face into her palms and drew him forward to fuse her mouth solidly with his. Darcy's satisfied groan sounded at her sweet method.
When she pulled back, he could not prevent the provoked growl emitting from his throat. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he possessively drew her frame against his chest.
"Now, how shall I go about verifying I am made of flesh and blood?" Ravenous eyes squinted, as a mischievous grin formed on his face. "Ah, you mentioned my bark is worse than my bite."
Amanda's mouth opened to emit a squeak, as his hold tightened and he bent her slightly back, exposing her neck.
"Let us see if you were correct in that assessment."
Darcy proceeded to exhibit his prowess by starting at the curve of her neck and moving up to inflict a series of nips upon her skin.
Amanda concluded that Darcy definitely favored her neck regions. Oh, he could sink his teeth into her anytime, making a very sexy vampire. The words 'bite me' took on a completely new meaning as Amanda's heat began to rise.
Trailing upward, Darcy found her mouth and eagerly took claim. His hold intensified so powerfully that an opening to respond was not possible.
Darcy's fire was all consuming, and Amanda felt like she was being burned alive by his passionate flames.
I want him! Quick, bring the temperature down, Amanda!
Frantically she placed her palms on his chest and pushed him back.
"That was brilliant how you handled her, Darcy," she praised desperately.
Her eyes pleaded for him to give her a reprieve and he quickly released her and took a step back, turning away to get control of his own raging desires.
After a moment of composure, he faced her.
"No, no, it was you who brought out the best in me. I would have played the domineering brother and judged her harshly. Your presence in my life has irreversibly been advantageous in bettering my disposition. I even like the alternate address you bestowed upon Georgiana."
Amanda's forehead wrinkled. "Alternate address? Oh, the nickname."
"I previously abhorred the use of them, but find I am envious you have imparted one for her." His fingers reached out to tease with some of her hair dangling close to her bosom. "Pray tell me, do you not have one for me?"
Trying not to be distracted by his light touch, Amanda put her own finger to her chin raising her eyes as if in deep thought.
"You know I did think of a possibility."
"Which is?"
"I thought perhaps Willy would be catchy."
His face contorted in distaste. "This is precisely why I dislike the use of such addresses. Willy, indeed!"
Laughing she reached up and ruffled his thick hair. "It will have to remain Darcy then." She caught a flash of disappointment on his face. "But when I say it, let it be understood that each and every time I will really be saying my dearest Darcy, whom I love with all my heart."
The disappointment was slowly wiped from his face and replaced with a lazy smile. He took her back into his arms, swinging her back into a dip, readying her for another impassioned assault on her person.
Lowering his head, with his messed hair falling forward, he whispered huskily in her ear that he understood. He then descended to attack her neck ardently.
"Darcy, remember, behave."
Lifting his head, he glared at her in a predatory manner. "I will cease," he said with a glint in his eye, "however, not before I have one last bite of that which is readily exposed to partake."
As he descended to do as he said, Amanda concluded that Count Darcy could feast off her anytime at his leisure.
Georgiana, listening at the door, covered her mouth in awe to the couple's playful words and then the sounds of their lovemaking.
Her first impressions of Miss Price were as a spirited lady from which nothing but love could induce her to marry, resulting in obstinacy without care and blindness of her true feelings for her brother. Thankfully, the illustrious lady had since seen the light.
While Fitzwilliam, a proud man, embedded with social intolerances, found and fought against his truest love, Miss Price, struggling in vain to find he could not deny his feelings, breaking him free of his improper conceit to declare his affections.
Together, their impediments of prejudices and pride were improved upon, creating a great story of romance for the ages.
It seemed a pity it could not be shared with the world.
Walking back to her bedchamber, her youthful imagination began to swirl and levitate. Making a beeline for her writing desk, she pulled out a parchment, readied her ink and pen, and drifted off into her own little world of words and wonder.
Amanda was in the throes of her gleeful rendition of Madonna's 'Like a Virgin' when the sight of a pert little nose in the crack of the door caused her to come to an abrupt stop.
"Georgie!"
Slipping sheepishly into the room, Georgiana faced her with hands behind her back.
"Amanda, I apologize for interrupting your exercise, but I came to tell you there is a visitor to see you."
A visitor for me? Jane maybe or perhaps it was a delivery from Longbourn. Amanda's eyes lit with anticipation. Sure, she could live without modern stuff, but if Lizzy sent her a care package, it would be rude to decline it.
"Who is it?"
"Um, a young lady from Lampton. Her name I did not hear as I was on my way up the stairs."
Amanda saw the teenager was suppressing a smile and had a little sparkle in her eye. Okay, she would play along.
Climbing off the bed, she went to the dressing room and started to rummage through her newly acquired collection of dresses. Thanks to her generous host ordering a horde of dressmakers, she could provide authentic wardrobes for the entire female cast of the next adaptation of Sense & Sensibility.
"Georgie, run now and tell whomever I will be down as soon as I can."
"Yes, dearest sister."
Stopping in mid-dress, Amanda looked affectionately at the girl who was about to leave.
"You don't mind?"
"I think my brother will be most fortunate to call you his wife, and I, to call you sister."
Moisture collected in Amanda's eyes as the first official exchange of sisterly affection passed silently between them. Clearing her throat, she switched her thoughts back to the unknown visitor waiting downstairs. Waving Georgiana off to do as she asked, the young girl turned to exit. Before closing the door behind her, the young girl stopped.
"Amanda, can I ask you a question?" Popping her head through the dress top, Amanda nodded. "Do you have the lyrics and sheet music for the melody you were beautifully singing?"
Wiggling to find the armholes of the dress, Amanda imagined Georgiana serenading her brother with Madonna's rather un-maidenly hit. Frowning she answered the teenager with a firm negative to her question.
Amanda came down and opened the door to the receiving room to find Colette, the head seamstress for Lampton's dress shop, standing proudly by her latest work. By her side stood Georgiana, with an exuberant smile on her face.
"Oh, Amanda, are you surprised? Is it not the most exquisite wedding gown you have ever beheld?"
Amanda's eyes widen. Not.
At least she was slowly acquiring the discipline not to say it out loud. Instead, she offered a forced smile and bobbed her head enthusiastically.
It definitely was no Vera Wang, but its unappealing appearance improved because obviously, Darcy had anticipated, without reservations, their marriage would occur. He must have thoughtfully ordered it made when the dressmakers had come previously to start to assemble a wardrobe for her. That was only two days after she had come to Pemberley; the same day of Georgiana's confession.
Clasping her hands together, Georgie confirmed, "My brother ordered in secret when Colette was here last. Look at all the pearls and the lace is all the way from Paris!"
Amanda had to remind herself that this ornate and conservative costume was probably the height of fashion for this time, and Darcy would most likely find her breathtaking wearing it. However, she could not help fantasizing Darcy's reaction with her wearing a form-fitting, strapless Alexander McQueen trumpet gown, with crystal embellishments and a heart-shaped bodice to emphasize her bosom, which would certainly be heaving emphatically for him.
But in the end, she did not care if Colette held up a ratty, moth-eaten, potato sack with holes to stick her head and arms through. If the end result were her becoming Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy, she would wear it with pleasure. So, putting on a big happy face for Georgiana's sake, she came over and gushed convincingly over the monstrosity.
"Amanda, my brother asked me to give this to you," Georgiana said, holding out a note.
Taking the perfectly folded letter, Amanda marveled at Darcy's bold, beautiful handwriting of her name on the front. Turning it over she softly ran her finger over the wax seal embedded with the Darcy family emblem.
Even in the simplicity of writing a note, it was art worthy of framing like one sees on the antique road shows appraising some newly discovered letter of some famous person in history.
Seeing things in this new light, and the discovery of Darcy's words written on the ticket stub, Amanda was glad that she would never have to send out another impersonal text message for the rest of her days. She no longer felt she could stomach the brainless thought and effort it took compared to what she held in her hand.
Gingerly she broke the seal.
Dearest Amanda,
The gown is but a cover to a book, which is the story of my life. It begins with you, my dearest love, and after our vows, the story will continue with us on every page thereafter.
Forever yours - Fitzwilliam Darcy
Instantly Amanda thought of Neil Diamond, and the lyrics to one of his songs played at her grandparent's sixtieth wedding anniversary. There was no way he could know. It must be a coincidence. Amanda had told her Grand that it was perfect and she wanted it to be her wedding song.
Remembering her Grand, she once said that there were no coincidences. Everything had a reason to happen, or a purpose to harmonize the universe. How in the heck did Neil Diamond get tossed back into the early nineteenth-century?
No matter, she thought, clutching the letter to her chest, thrilling inside thinking this is exactly what she wanted. Every female deserved a man who knew how to adore, respect and romance his woman. Sure, it was a bit sappy, but what sensible woman would care?
Remembering Michael's pathetic proposal with him holding up a beer bottle engagement ring, it reinforced her conclusion. Michael's idea of romance was to come over to the flat, drink a couple beers, and belch out, "How 'bout a shag, Mands?"
Michael was a passable lover with his moments. Granted, she had no one to compare it to because Michael was her first to go all the way. It had been clumsy, uncomfortable, and to her great disappointment, anticlimactic.
The feelings she had for Michael, at the time, were genuine and sex seemed the next step up in the process of building a relationship. How could she have known that once the sex happened, the up escalator would start to go down?
After a few months, she found that their love was really a stupid need to be with someone. Their sexual relationship went from sporty and fun to the routine shag here and there. They never really had all-consuming passion and hunger for each other.
In Austen's world, being exposed to men of honor with the highest of integrity and respect towards the gentle sex, Amanda clearly saw the differences between her feelings for Michael and Darcy.
When comparing the two, she realized there was an irresponsible physical love fueled by endorphin rushes and, on the other end of the spectrum, a deep, lasting love, which can only be powered by two hearts beating in synch. Now that she felt the emotion in its purest of forms with Darcy, she could concentrate on the physical aspects of the relationship.
So sincere was her desire for Darcy, she could not even begin to call it 'shagging' or the other word that would have naughty children biting down on bars of soap. Rightly so, for it left a disgusting taste in her mouth just thinking of using those words to describe such intimacy with this man.
To her, the poetic coming together as one body and one soul will only do in describing the physical side of their relationship. This rather extensive evaluation of the makings of a solid relationship came down to one painful conclusion; she wished with all her heart Darcy had been her first.
There was no doubt in her mind Darcy did not know how to do clumsy and would have slowly worshipped her body and taken every consideration for her inexperience and discomfort. Amanda let out a deep sigh at the thought of what might have been.
Colette, with her thick French accent, broke her thoughts with a deep sigh of her own.
"Oh oui, certainly a gown for the angels. It is mon, how do you say, best work."
Staring at the dress with a chiseled smile, Amanda nodded, thinking Colette would be aghast to learn that her masterpiece was going to be worn by no angel. Like a virgin, but definitely, not a virgin.
"Let us go fit you, yes?"
Amanda nodded again, still not trusting herself to express her opinion verbally.
Possibly, she could convince the seamstress to make a few alterations, which would make it less bulky. Perhaps shorten the neckline a bit, make it a short-sleeved gown, or more dramatically, peel off the entire shell of thick lace off.
Then she thought, why bother? After all, she was only going to wear it once, and her focus should be on what would be happening to the dress after the vows were spoken and the guests had departed.
Alone together as husband and wife for the first time, the only barrier left to overcome was the fabric she wore. Darcy would burrow his way through at all layers effortlessly, toss it aside, and then she will be done with the ugly thing for good.
The sound of Georgiana's tutor beckoning the teenager to attend to her lessons abruptly ended the afterglow of the surprise. Hugging the young girl, Amanda told her the gown was an absolute vision, which was a true statement. She just left out it was a vision she would like to burn out of her psyche.
Once upstairs in her room, Colette went into a scurry of activity in shedding her of her current dress and fitting her into the wedding gown.
"Oh, you are going to look exquisite, mademoiselle. It should fit perfectly, yes?"
No, it did not fit perfectly. It was too tight. The long line of buttons on the back could not be closed even with Amanda sucking in her stomach.
"Oh, I do not understand, it is my measures as the other dresses I have done for you."
Amanda was baffled as well. She really did not noticed since she rarely got into her dresses in the Georgian way, which was to unbutton, step into, and pull up, all under the guidance of her maid, Pauline. It was much easier to pull the dress over her head and be done with it.
Not surprising, Amanda was not used to having someone attend to her every need including dressing and undressing. Poor Pauline did not comprehend her future mistress wanting to dress without her assistance.
The maid would hover and wander around the bedchamber aimlessly, trying to be productive, while the honored guest performed what she was hired to do. Amanda was sure that anxiety over what the master would say weighed heavily on the maid's mind, from which she tried to assure her it was okay. It would be their secret.
However, Pauline was indeed highly valued. At the flat, Pirhana dubbed her a slob at times, to which Amanda had to agree. She kept the maid busy in other areas beyond the closet.
And in one respect, she truly appreciated the help. The maid may not have understood the reason behind Amanda's need to apologize profusely each time the chamber pot was emptied; nonetheless, she was confident Pauline appreciated the sentiment just the same.
But the reason why the dress did not fit eluded Amanda. It could not be a weight thing, thinking she would have lost weight rather than gained. The dramatic change of diet had caused her chucking a few times, but that was to be expected. Some cuisine had her gagging. Trying to chew on baby birds with the bones still inside did not sit well with her, and she never really understood the whole roasted pig with an apple in its mouth. Was it supposed to make ones mouth water? Let them watch Babe and see if they change their views on the main course presentations.
Also, her snacking had come to a dead stop; she did not have the endless supply of goodies readily on hand as she did back in her pantry. So, what could it possibly be?
After a few moments of deep thinking, it dawned on her. Water gain. That must be it. A few days before her monthly visit from Aunt Flo, she would bloat up so much that she had special elastic pants for those days. Mystery solved.
Hold on. Was it really the third week already? But how could it be? She always started in the first week. Last month she was already a few weeks in Austen's time. She had not had her flow since Elizabeth exchanged eras with her. That's not right. That meant that—her body stiffened as her heart stopped—she was late.
"Mademoiselle, vous allez bien, oui? You are white as a fantôme."
Amanda looked at the woman but did not really see her. In her mind, she was frantically counting the weeks. Her mouth started to go dry, as the count got higher. Realization hit her like a bolt of lightning causing her knees to buckle. Amanda slumped to the floor in shock.
The last time she and Michael shagged was on her birthday after a celebratory evening out at the local pub. She had woken in his flat with the only clue to what happened was her missing panties and him snoring, naked, besides her. The rest was a blur. Were precautions taken?
With tears running down her cheeks, she knew the answer immediately. Her head dropped to hide her face, distorted with anguish and grief.
No, no, no! Not happening!
Amanda pounded her fist on the floor as a slew of obscenities came pouring out of her mouth that would make a seasoned, stand-up comic blush. Running out of angry words, she resorted to sobbing uncontrollably.
"Oh no, madame, do not weep! Colette peut réparer…I can fix!"
Amanda shook her head. This could not be fixed. She was going to have a baby, and the father was not Darcy. And just like that, stark reality slapped her out from her happy dream coma.
Alone in her room, Amanda sat stoically on the edge of her bed, drained physically and mentally, her face void of all emotion. In her hand, she limply held a letter delivered to her moments before. It was from Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Staying true to her threat, she was blackmailing her.
The wicked witch got right to the reason for her correspondence by informing her that if she did not abandon marriage to her nephew, she would make sure Jane not only remained married to Mr. Collins, but they would live in squalor for the rest of their lives. Sweet and gentle Jane; this would kill her, and it would be highly likely Bingley would soon follow his beloved to the grave.
Oh, but she did not stop there. Lady Catherine assured her that she would ruin the rest of Bennet daughters' chances of ever entering into advantageous marriages and make all of England know she was an unchaste woman thus causing Darcy great humiliation.
Then the last threat struck her down even further into the dismal hole with the mention of letters that she had in her possession penned by Darcy's father, which would be devastating to the family's legacy.
Amanda was not convinced the woman had the letters for she was too vague in the details, and she was sure that something could be done to squash the other threats. Standing, she moved about the room in angry frustration, wishing she could go to Darcy with the letter and they both, together, take the nasty bitch down.
With the game afoot, he, Sherlock, and she, his Watson, sleuthing about to end the injustice brought on by a devious mind. Amanda was sure they would make an excellent team. But being pregnant with Michael's baby ended the game even before the blackmail came into play.
Steadying her racing mind to think clearly, Amanda carefully pictured scenarios that may make it possible for her to stay and be accepted, but soon she realized there really was only one option.
Before the dawn of what was to be her wedding day—for Darcy, Jane, and the Bennets—she had to run away and leave all chance for happiness behind.
Her already puffy red eyes started to moisten again, flooding quickly to overspill into trailing tears down her cheeks. Sitting on the cushioned seat outlining the stately bayed window, she stared out across Pemberley's courtyard and picturesque expanse beyond.
Feeling drained of all hope, she whispered the unspoken words of Elizabeth Bennet.
"Of all this, I might have been mistress."
A soft knock sounded on the door.
"Dearest sister? Are you well? I am most concerned."
Georgie! Oh, hell.
Jane Austen absolutely was haunting her for buggering up the story. There were no happy endings here since coming through the blasted portal.
Because she came, the Bennets had four unmarried daughters and soon, one divorcee who would have to leave her country, family, and friends behind.
When she stayed, Darcy fell even more in love with her, got engaged, and was blissfully preparing to take to his bosom a wife and a hope of a little daughter, named after a Who from Whoville from a classic American cartoon.
And when she left, Georgiana will lose the older sister she always wanted, and Darcy will be abandoned at the altar, humiliated, brokenhearted, and confused as to why she had to leave him.
What will happen to them all? What will happen to Darcy?
Amanda knew that she would never get over him. Would it be the same for him? She just wanted to wake up and find the past weeks were nothing but an incredible dream. Then everyone would be unharmed, and the story would have progressed, as it should have.
"Amanda?"
Wiping the tears away, she spoke as lighthearted as possible.
"I'm fine, Georgie. I was taking a nap," she answered. "I was a little tired from all the excitement."
"Can I come in?"
Amanda's brain froze. She looked and felt like she had been in a major wreck. Georgiana would know something was wrong if she opened the door.
A light bulb went on, and Amanda got up and crossed quickly over to the door.
"Oh, Georgie, you can't come in. I forgot about an old tradition of my family. It is bad luck to see any of my future relations from the hour the day before to the hour of the actual marriage."
Glancing over at the mantle clock, she sighed with relief. It was after two in the afternoon. The wedding was to take place at one o'clock.
"You will not be dining tonight with Mr. Bingley, Mrs. Collins, and us?"
Oops, forgot about that.
"No, I will not. Please convey my apologies to them for me." Thinking of Jane, she added, "And tell Mrs. Collins I think of her as a sister and love her."
"But you can tell her yourself when you are wed."
"Of course, you are right, but I'd like you to tell her tonight all the same. Can you do that?"
"Yes, I gladly do so."
"Thank you, Georgie. I want you to know that I love you too."
"And I love you, Amanda, and I cannot wait until you become my sister. What adventures we shall have together," Georgiana replied excitedly. "Do you have any messages for my brother?"
Amanda's heart felt like it was being sucked down a pipe into the dark depths of her gut.
"Tell him I am so sorry," she gulped, while closing her eyelids with dread at her next words, "and that I will see him tomorrow."
"I will. Sleep well, Amanda."
"Good night, Georgiana."
After the young girl had left, Amanda flung herself onto the bed, screaming into her pillow in despair and anguish. Apparently, life was cruel no matter in what century she found herself residing.
Finding the pillow offered no satisfaction in alleviating her misery; Amanda whipped it across the room, just missing the writing desk. A sense of foreboding washed over her.
Oh, great. This just keeps getting better and better.
It could not be avoided; she had to write to Darcy.
Sitting down at the desk, Amanda took out a sheet of paper to start drafting the hardest letter she will ever have to compose. Trying to write legibly with a feather tip dipped into a little jar of ink only added to the torture of telling the love of her life, both in her modern day and in this present day reality, goodbye, forever.
After two agonizing hours and many attempts, she sealed in wax her first and last letter to her dearest Darcy. Exhausted, she walked over to the bed and slumped across it, willing herself to please, please, wake up, Amanda. Wake up.
Knocking, George waited for an answer, only to find the door opening quickly and a hand reaching out, grabbing the front of his coat, and yanking him inside.
He watched his requestor peered nervously out into the hallway to be sure nobody saw him, and then she closed the door and turned to face him.
"I need your help."
Bowing dramatically, "I am at your service, madam."
"Good. I need to leave Pemberley without Darcy knowing. Early in the morning when everyone is asleep."
"I am all astonishment. I thought it was the groom who is first to tuck his tail under and flee from matrimony."
George regretted his statement immediately as a choked sob escaped, and the lady before him dropped her head quickly to hide her upset.
"Miss Price, forgive my callous words. What has transpired?"
Her head snapped up. "Stop calling me Miss Price! I am so sick of it!" Then her expression fell again. "Oh, George, I'm sorry."
Her hands covered her face as her sobs turned into full feminine weeping. Seeing her disheveled state, it did not take a scholar to perceive that something was very wrong. Feeling brotherly, he put his arms around her in comfort and let her cry for a few moments while offering her his handkerchief.
"Tell me, Amanda," he softly commanded, "for there is nobody on this green earth I would risk life and limb in my admiration except for you."
"That was sweet, George," she said, giving him a slight smile. "Here, read for yourself."
She handing him a letter then heartily making use of his handkerchief while he read it. Finishing, he threw it casually onto the table near him.
"So it would seem you are being unjustly blackmailed, but more grievous a crime is submitting to her demands. This is not you."
"What else can I do? I am not that selfish in my pursuit of gaiety to marry Darcy and risk finding out she was serious about ruining lives. I have to leave him."
"You underestimate Darcy's authority and influence. He is fiercely protective of those he cares for dearly. By what I have seen, he worships you. If you leave him, it will injure him more than any scandal."
"Do you think I don't know that? If it were only the blackmail alone, I would go straight to the witch and stick a stake up her bum and throw her on the fire myself."
Wickham smirked. He did not doubt her.
"But it isn't just the blackmail," she added. "There is more, but I can't tell you."
"As you have said once before, I am the right bastard at the right time. Will you not confide in me and perhaps we can find a solution together."
Amanda shook her head.
"There is no alternative?"
"It would not be fair for all involved, particularly Darcy."
"Very well, dear lady," he said, nodding his acceptance. Trying to lighten the mood, he picked up her hand and patted it. "So, what adventure should I send you off on? Africa? A jungle safari perhaps?"
Jungle?
Amanda looked at Wickham thinking he was not far off. She was returning to the jungle, but it was not in Africa. It was her London.
There was no other way out. She had to escape this land of Austen.
Staring out the window for any sign of movement down the lane, Amanda chewed on her lower lip as anxiety grew. Time was running out before darkness would rob her of that last glimpse of Darcy.
Also, making it all the more important, she had no photos of him to clutch to her bosom and cry over, and this was her only opportunity to take a picture on her mobile. She would have to make it good; the charge was near empty, slowly being drained from misuse over the course of three weeks.
Without a photo, she would have to rely solely on her memory as substantiation that he actually happened. No problem there. He was quite unforgettable. She would remember every hair, trace, touch, and pore, forever and ever.
Bollocks!
Who was she kidding? She barely remembered her best school chums to whom she spent day after day, year after year with until they parted and went their separate ways. That was less than eight years ago!
Furthermore, as old age set in, her mind will slowly degrade to convert the historical reality into delusional fiction, questioning if all of this really happened until she convinced herself as bonkers. Without that digital image as verification, to say it would be catastrophic to her overall mental health would be an understatement.
Flashing back to the morning, Amanda's mouth twitched up for the first time since the tragic realization of her condition.
Well, at least you got your lazy ass out of bed on the one day it really matter.
Because if she had not, she would not have had the now priceless, final moments alone together with Darcy, and his last, mindboggling kiss.
Right after dawn, Amanda woke to the sound of Darcy's booming voice down below ordering his mount to be brought in from the stables. Oh lord, he was an early riser, a habit she was determined to break once they were married.
Stretching out all four of her limbs, she grinned at the methods she might use to go about converting him. Duck tape flashed in her mind, taping him down to the bed, but she determined she would try a softer approach, hopefully leading to many mornings of lovemaking and leisurely idleness.
Hearing the clomping of hooves echo on the cobblestones, she wondered where in the blazes he was going so early. Even the annoying peacocks have yet to—
Springing up, she squawked.
Bingley!
Darcy was leaving for London to meet up with him! This would be the first time in three weeks they had been separated for more than a few hours, and the sudden realization she will have to suffer a whole day without seeing or being near him was already torture.
But he was still here!
Hurry!
Jumping out of bed, she threw on her night coat, flying out of her room, down the long interior balcony, sprinting downstairs pass the surprised footman, and out the door. To be sure, a speed record for her lifetime of getting her bum out of bed.
"Darcy, hold on!"
Already mounted, he about-faced his horse, and the pleasure of seeing her could not be contained as he worked to control the horse's eagerness to be off.
"I roused you from your sleep, my love, and yet, I cannot apologize for it."
"And I look a bloody mess," she replied, trying to pat down her tousled hair.
"Wild with a refreshed glow that I can only see at most becoming in the morning light. What pleasure will I find to wake every morning to behold such natural beauty."
His answer had her dropping her hands and smiling, as he steadied the horse. Laying her palm on his thigh for leverage, Amanda rose up as he moved to meet her halfway down to fuse their mouths together.
It was a sweet but hurried kiss because the animal's movements were interrupting their connection. Stepping back away from the horse, Amanda looked up to see Darcy giving her an apologetic look, bidding her farewell then rotating the horse to leave at a fast trot.
She watched as he rode away, feeling like the most uncommon housewife sending her hubby off to work at the door, even though they were not married yet. Instead of the briefcase and tumbler of coffee, he was off with a saddlebag and riding crop.
The parting was also unique in that it was not without its dangers with the possibility of being stomped on or kicked by his scary, snorting transport. To Amanda, the risk, as well as, the dragging her bum out of bed was well worth the few minutes with Darcy before he rode off.
Seeing he was looking back at her, she smiled sweetly and waved. What he did next was completely unexpected.
Reining to a dead stop at the courtyard gate, Darcy pivoted the horse sharply, riding swiftly back to her side, dismounting in one fluid motion to take her into his arms, bending her back to kiss her properly.
Amanda did not think any man on earth could worship with his mouth as well as Darcy. Anointing firmly with confidence, reverting to tender and deliberate veneration. Indeed, his devotion was to be praised.
This kissing session was all above, lasting at least the time it took to walk from the West wing to the East wing of Pemberley. Amanda knew from experience it was a very long time, not counting the countless minutes of getting lost inbetween.
Drawing away, he peered down at her, mumbling he was loathed to leave her.
Breathing again, Amanda reached up to adjust his already perfect lapel, smoothing her hand down his long, riding coat.
"I know, but the sooner you do what you have to do, the sooner the day will be done, and tomorrow will come," she said, with eyes lifting to his. "So off you go, dear. Play nice with Bingley, and come back home straight away."
His reply was to stare intensely down at her with a slight smirk, making her wish she had sunglasses to hide the moisture she felt pooling in her eyes.
"Now, go, before I knock you over the head and lock you up."
Releasing her from his embrace, he stepped away, grabbing the reins of his horse.
"Wait. One more thing."
Darcy turned, and Amanda grabbed his collar, drawing him down, and returned his kiss with a softer intensity, but resulting in the same reaction of him being rendered completely dumb and in need of oxygen.
"There, Mr. Darcy. Sending you off good and proper as a dutiful wife should."
His eyes squinted, asking her to explain.
She offered him one word.
"Practice."
A faint sound of wheels and hooves in the distance alerted Amanda to jump-start her heart to hammer erratically. She could see a carriage and lone rider coming up the majestic lane.
He was coming!
As the entourage approached, Darcy's familiar form began to take shape. Amanda clamped her palm over her mouth to prevent herself from opening the window and crying out for him to stop her from what she had to do.
Riding in through the courtyard gate, Amanda drank him in for the last time.
Look up. Look up at me.
Her whispered pleas went unheard as he quickly dismounted and escorted his guests inside, and just like that, he was gone. Then she felt the mobile clutched tightly in her hand, and her jaw dropped.
Stupid, stupid girl!
She forgot to take the photo! Any photo! She did not care if it was a barely visible rider the distance, a blurry figure in a long coat wearing a top hat, or just the back of his head, anything would have been better than nothing. Dropping her head, despair engulfed her. Her last chance and she blew it to smithereens.
Moving to the bed, she fell back on the mattress and tried to etch the last memory of him in her brain, knowing with time the images will become less and less vivid, as well as, the truly unbelievable times spent at Pemberley.
The most vivid was the day when she got lost and Darcy riding up to save her. His incredible speech after her spill from the log and her acceptance of his proposal made the road back to Pemberley smooth and full of promise of a wonderful future together.
However, there would be no avoiding this bump in the road, and there would be nobody to save her. She determined that without Darcy, she did not care about what the future held for her. Perhaps, if she was lucky, she thought, a four-legged truck will plow her down and put her out of her misery.
Laying her hand on her belly, Amanda smiled slightly. Taking a deep sigh, she shook her head at the passing thought. She did not want that at all. Placing a hand on her stomach, Amanda defined her commitment.
"Don't worry, no matter how much mum messes up her life, she is going to work hard to make yours very happy. I promise."
Hard as it may be, she will live for her baby and those precious memories that were sure to fade.
"Mandy, my love?"
Shooting up from the bed, Amanda rushed to the door.
"Darcy, don't come in!"
"I acknowledge your family tradition and will not enter. I wanted to bid you a good night's sleep and to give you a package from Miss Bennet."
Gulping, she stood behind the door and opened it a crack so he could pass her the package. Taking it from him, she went to shut the door but stopped as she noticed his hand holding another item. It was a black velvet case. Her eyes widen as the package she held dropped unnoticed to the ground.
"Darcy, I don't know what to say," she said, trying desperately not to burst out into tears again.
"No words are needed, my love. I want to see it draped around your neck as we exchange vows."
Amanda's lip quivered as she reached to take the gift. The second their fingers touched, a sharp electrical current shot through her. Darcy then engulfed her hand within his, preventing her from withdrawing it back.
"Not one heartbeat, Amanda," he said while caressing her fingers. "By this time, we will be consummating our love, and there will never be a door between us again."
It took all her strength to pull her hand away from his.
"I will love you forever, Fitzwilliam Darcy," she whispered. "Never forget that."
Before he could answer, she mumbled a quick good night and shut the door between them. Amanda bit down hard on her lip as she heard him walking away; his footsteps getting fainter and fainter until silence.
Fingering the velvet case, Amanda knew whatever was inside could possibly cause her to lose her mind. So, setting the box aside, she picked up the package from Elizabeth instead.
Untying the binding twine, she found her favorite perfume and some of the items on her wish list. At the bottom was a smaller package.
Unwrapped, her bottom lip dropped allowing a large gasp to escape. Slowly she pulled out a full-length silk, ivory nightgown with spaghetti straps and a sheer, flowing lace cover. Elizabeth sure did have impeccable, if not a little risky tastes for an innocent from the early nineteenth century.
The gown's fabric felt like cool water in her hands, and the cover was like air. Gone was the image of the unsightly wedding dress, and in its place would have been the perfect nightgown for their first night together. Now, only in her fantasies would she be able to see Darcy's reaction.
Fantasies? What a joke, she thought; when she would always know she could have had the real man. Amanda's mouth clamped shut and her pursed lips with a mixture of anger and regret.
Noticing a note, she opened it.
Amanda, happiness may not come the way we imagine. Never question its foundation and embrace it when you find it, promising never to let it go. - Elizabeth
Slumping down on the edge of the bed, she glanced at Darcy's gift. There would be no escaping what was sure to be the unavoidable.
Opening the box, she had to catch her breath. Inside was a gold chain with an oval-shaped locket with delicate enameled pale blue and white forget-me-not flowers encompassing all sides. Each flower had a petite, yellow diamond in the middle. Engraved on the inside were their married initials. She knew immediately what Darcy intended to go within the locket.
Amanda reached into her dress pocket and pulled out the precious paper stub. Not one heartbeat do I forget. She had told Darcy his words convinced her that she loved him too much to go back to her London. Folding it carefully she placed it in the locket and shut it carefully.
This was her photograph; this was her absolute proof through the ages that she had loved Mr. Darcy, and more importantly, he loved her as well. The locket and the tiny note inside would be her one priceless treasure to remind her. Sort of like the necklace from Titanic. Only she will not be so stupid to throw it back into the ocean.
Sobbing, Amanda allowed the floodwalls to be breach. In her heart, they were already man and wife spiritually just by the amazing circumstances that brought them together. How was she going to go back and survive without her other half?
Rising up from the bed, she stormed around the room aimlessly, lecturing to herself. She must! She will have Michael's baby and be a good mum. She would not tarnish Darcy any further with her past and ruin his future. She will leave him!
Stopping in the middle of the room, her shoulders slumped. Oh, but poor Darcy. She had been one big tease for weeks, and she was just going to poof, disappear from his life just like that.
He gave her the perfect gift of his love and the most memorable times of her life, and now, the beautiful locket. What did she give to him in return? Nothing except a pathetic letter with lyrics to a tragic love song written on it. She could not even give him her own words of goodbye.
You deserved better, Darcy!
She angrily wiped the tears away. Fists clenched, she allowed the sadness to be replaced by another emotion—determination.
Looking at Elizabeth's gift draped over the chair, Amanda nodded in agreement to her sudden decision. Shedding the traveling dress, she slid the nightgown's silkiness over her head. It contoured all the curves perfectly. Standing before a full-length mirror, she marveled at her appearance; she was stunning.
Misting perfume over her body, she glossed her lips and put on the locket and the lace cover. She was almost ready.
Squeezing toothpaste on the new brush, she began vigorously to clean her teeth. As she swished water in her mouth, she looked up to see the unwavering look on the face in the mirror.
Fitzwilliam Darcy was going to get a visitor tonight. If only for one night, it will be the most memorable night of their lives, and it had to last them forever. Moving over to the bed, she sat on the edge with hands clasped together on her lap.
Looking over at the clock, she realized it was still early. She was to meet Wickham behind the stables an hour before dawn. In a couple hours, the guests should be gone, and the house will be settled.
Amanda took in a deep breath and slowly released. Only one more thing to do—wait.