A/N: For those in my Facebook group Janeside, you know I've been dealing with the ill effects of health issues but didn't know that my lack of energy, constant pain, and major fatigue was due to a serious vitamin deficiency! Live and learn! The great news is I am back on track to healthier and happier 2017 complete with working out and eating healthier! I wish the same for you, and please, if any of you ever feel like something isn't right, check with your GP. I wish I had months earlier, silly me.
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Despite pushing the teams of horses and his staff to the very limits of their travel abilities, Mr. Darcy and his bride arrived in Gretna Green after the blacksmiths closed for the day. With none to marry them, the fatigued couple remained inside the carriage while Darcy's man, Simmons, went inside The Three Hammers on the northern side of the village to inquire about a room. A bit of extra coin and mentioning the Darcy name quickly persuaded the innkeeper and his wife to remove themselves to the loft for the evening. The tragedy of waiting another night for their wedding that seemed longer than all of the rest would at least pass with a bed to sleep in.
Across the border, there was no need for pretense as most of the couples intending to marry at the anvil took only one room and no one raised an eyebrow. The business of Gretna Green brought money flowing to provide accommodations for all of the young people looking to escape the demands of relatives. A side business cropped up around such intrigue as after a happy couple passed through, soon came their very angry relatives looking for answers. Silver and gold could buy you both a swing of the hammer or a flap of the lips, depending on which side a patron fell on the disputed marriage match. In the case of Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet, there would be no angry relatives, thus their union would provide merely half the profit.
An unusually wet summer had delayed their progress north of Derbyshire with the roads becoming nearly impassable just before they crossed over into Scotland. More than once Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth alighted from the carriage so the equipage could be pushed with the least amount of weight through the muck and mire. The first two times were quite exciting and broke up the monotony of their travel, but by the third and fourth time, Elizabeth grew weary standing on the side of the road in a strange country, no longer wishing to comment on the sights as they looked much the same as the previous two delays.
In spite of the late hour of their arrival, the staff of the inn provided hot water for their baths and Elizabeth made faces at herself in the looking glass at her own reflection. As she brushed out her own curls having wished for some time alone even from her maid, she flipped her long tresses back, shocked with herself at how quickly she was transforming into Mrs. Darcy.
How could she dare complain about any of their travel experiences thus far? With her sister Jane, Elizabeth had often taken the Mail Coach to London for visits to their aunt and uncle. Never had her travel accommodations been as luxurious as her trips with Mr. Darcy. Yes, the mud became a great inconvenience as she looked at her skirts drying by the fire that Betsy had already washed and beaten to the best of her ability, but it was unlikely the light blue skirts would come clean again. A short burst of laughter escaped Elizabeth's mouth and she covered it with her hand as she realized she immediately regretted the loss of the dress but for the first time in her life, she did not worry where the money would come for its replacement.
A knock on the door interrupted her inward musings and Mr. Darcy entered. His own bath plastered his wet curls around his forehead like the ringlets of a babe and Elizabeth immediately rose from her chair to enjoy the new forming intimacy between them.
"Did you strike your head on the shelf above the tub?" Elizabeth asked, standing on her tiptoes to search for a bump as Fitzwilliam instinctively touched the crown of his head.
"Yes! Confounded decoration. How did you know?"
Elizabeth giggled as she pressed an embrace around the man who would be her husband on the morrow. "Betsy warned me when I stood up and as I'm a great deal shorter than you are, I wondered if Simmons would have presence of mind to give you the same."
Darcy scoffed. "He did not possess the same diligence in his duties. I shall have a stern talking to him!" Mr. Darcy said in a tone Elizabeth now understood to be his teasing one. To the unpracticed ear, it sounded a great deal like his normal tone with only the subtle difference of an abundance of seriousness he did not mean. Flashing a devilish smile after his bombastic complaints, a drop of his most practiced social manners he reserved only for the company of his closest friends and family, curtailed any notion of taking the master of Pemberley, Carver, and Darcy Houses seriously.
Yawning, Elizabeth glided over to the bed as Fitzwilliam locked the door and inspected the fire. This far north the air chilled even in summer and he stoked the coals before placing the poker back on the hook. He gave a valid pantomime of looking for a chair suitable for him to sleep in as Elizabeth sat up in the bed and clapped her hands in frustration.
"Oh, do not bother with such ridiculous behavior. Come to bed, Mr. Darcy. Your Elizabeth commands it."
"My Elizabeth?"
Elizabeth sighed and rolled her head from side to side. "I cannot say your wife commands so until tomorrow."
Mr. Darcy froze his progress. "I am so terribly sorry. We should have arrived here much earlier."
"Ah, I see. You must command the Heavens now as well." Elizabeth thoughtfully placed a finger on her chin and tapped. "I did ever so wonder if the Almighty listened more carefully to the wants and wishes of a rich man over a poor one."
Mr. Darcy frowned and veritably launched himself into the bed over Elizabeth's form to her shrieks and giggles before tucking under the blankets to pull her into a snuggled enclosure.
"You, Madam, are blasphemous."
Elizabeth pulled the coverlet up to her chin. "Oh dear, whatever shall be my penance?"
Darcy propped himself up on his elbow and leaned forward to kiss her lips, coaxing her lower one to relax and allow for a deeper exploration to pass between them. His free hand reached over and pressed her lower back against him and Elizabeth moaned, a sound he had heard before and yet always sent his blood coursing through his veins at a much heightened rate.
"Fitzwilliam…" Elizabeth whimpered and silently began to cry. He reached up to wipe a tear from her cheek and leaned forward to kiss her once more in a chaste manner but she pressed further wanting more. "Please, these stirrings are ever so strong…"
Darcy knew what she wanted, he was certain he wanted it more than she. But they were so close to their aims, only one more night stood between them and a marriage with the most respectability he could offer to her.
"Ssh, we've waited this long—"
"And it matters to whom?" she asked angrily.
Darcy closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers. Only the creaks and groans of a night at a public house could be heard at this late hour. He licked his lips as he thought hard about what to say. Finally, he opened his eyes, pulled back, and cupped her face in his hands. He searched her eyes to see the same desire and need he felt burning in his own soul.
"To us. And that's who we answer to. Each other."
Elizabeth frowned and closed her eyes. She tried to turn away from him but his strong hands gently held her face towards his.
The seriousness of the moment cooled both of their ardors as Elizabeth finally opened her eyes and offered Fitzwilliam a small smile.
"Tomorrow?" She asked.
Darcy leaned over and lifted a brass snuffer to douse the candle with his long reach. He settled down in the familiar position that had calmed her nightmares for a number of months.
"Tomorrow."
And here comes the next scene, a big twist, which makes me laugh because a few people called for it. Confession, this next scene was one I knew would happen the very first day I came up with this story idea.
XOXOXO
Elizabeth Ann West
