AN: This will be the last story I will post on Fanfiction due to the behavior of a few community groups on this site. This is my livelihood, and I share stories here as a means of making sure those who cannot afford books may still read. I can't change who I am in terms of thanking readers and updating them, and neither will I risk all of the work I and others have put in on this site to the hands of a few people who think they know best for all stories. Had it been my actual readers who wrote nasty reviews complaining, then I might worry. But it was authors of other, unrelated genres. As such, I will be building a space on my own site with every book I've ever written to be read by anyone in the world. The groups who have ruined Fanfiction dot net for others ought to be ashamed of themselves. But I will not risk my career and livelihood to their organized bullying tactics.

If you wish to keep up with my stories, I suggest the Facebook group The Janeside or joining my mailing list as that will soon get emails weekly when I post chapters. All existing stories will remain posted on Fanfiction at this time.

XOXOXO
Elizabeth Ann West

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The discomfort of such a large house party manifested in honoring the traditions of the area for Mr. Darcy especially. The ancestral attire for Scotsmen, no longer prohibited by law, challenged the efficiency of Simmons' usual care, and so it was Mrs. Darcy who invaded Mr. Darcy's suite of rooms to invite him to a small making of mischief.

Fitzwilliam stood before the floor length mirror and scowled at his bare calves that displayed a stark paleness against the forest green kilt that came just to his kneecaps. His wife blew out a low whistle as she took in the lovely sight of her husband's backside and tilted her head to one side to trace the solid outline of his taut calf muscles.

"I see now why Henry VIII wore ribbons on his lower legs. I believe we ladies are losing a sight of beauty with the loss of breaches for these trousers that cover everything up." Elizabeth slipped her arm through Fitzwilliam's as he tugged on the shorter coat that necessity required while he wore the kilt. He had argued with Simmons over every detail down to the cloth covered buttons. Even Elizabeth had overruled his objection to don the traditional attire of his ancestors. In his guilt to make Elizabeth's first house party go off without so much as a hitch, Fitzwilliam acquiesced to wearing the drafty costume.

"Your delight shall be my comfort, Madam. As we greet the distinguished guests you have beckoned upon our castle, I shall shun my discomfort and unease for your whim." Fitzwilliam's overly officious voice made Elizabeth giggle as she knew him to be teasing her. She did not doubt that he felt some level of discomfort in wearing clothing that was not his usual fare, but her gown as well suffered a heavy drape with a long plaid swath, a suggestion of Mrs. McSorley.

The guests of the house party would be a mixture of both traditionalists and proud Scotsmen. There was little doubt that an Englishman would support the Crown, but a small gesture to their Scottish heritage would go a long way in diffusing sources of conflict. They lived in a modern age where the bloodied hills of war layover in the Continent or the Americas. It was a unique moment for English and Scots alike to find commonality over discord.

Elizabeth raised herself up on her tiptoes and tilted her chin just so. Fitzwilliam responded to her movements in the reflection by turning his face and granting his wife a chaste kiss upon her cheek. Elizabeth hummed contentedly at his affection and then explained to him her true aims.

"You may wonder why I have come to see you when you so often come to see me. But I have a small errand we must run, and for that, you shall leave with me at once." Elizabeth gently tugged on his arm, but Fitzwilliam pulled it back not relinquishing immediately to her request.

"Our house is full, Madam, may I remind you of the people you invited. I have no plans to leave this room until it is the call for dinner in a half hour's time or I should be forced to speak more than I have calculated."

Elizabeth hollowly laughed at Fitzwilliam's assessment but then allowed her eyelids to droop in a heavily lidded manner to speak barely above a whisper.

"I anticipated your objections and have planned around them, sir."

Then she raised her voice once more. "Be brave, be bold, and follow your wife into the great unknown!"

Fitzwilliam raised an eyebrow as Simmons hurried to put the rest of Mr. Darcy's things away in an attempt to disappear as quickly as he could. Elizabeth ignored her husband's valet as she had grown accustomed to his ways of blending into the background when he so chose.

"I am to trust you?" Fitzwilliam asked.

"Without hesitation," Elizabeth answered.

When her husband sighed, Elizabeth knew she had won the battle, and she tiptoed over to his door to creak it open and peer out into the hall. Spying the coast was clear, she waved her hands to beckon him to her side. Carefully, she opened the large oak door wider and began to escort her husband in the opposite direction of the grand staircase.

"You left the door open," Fitzwilliam whispered.

Elizabeth looked over her shoulder will quickly to explain. "Anyone on this hall will be listening for a door close as a signal to come out. Simmons will close it."

She quickened her pace and Fitzwilliam followed, grimacing as he found the odd sensation of movement in his new attire to be more thrilling than a gentleman ought to find in a mixed company. Elizabeth turned a discrete handle on a door that appeared to be a wall panel and opened the entrance to the servant stairs that would take them down through to the kitchen.

As the couple disappeared from the hall and used the worn, stone staircase, Elizabeth issued the same warning her maid had given to her. "Mind the steps, they are uneven, and it's very easy to lose one's balance."

"I am not so awful of a master to have dangerous stairs in my-" Mr. Darcy did not finish his thought as just as Elizabeth had predicted, he nearly lost his balance on the sixth step down the stairs following his wife. As he looked down at his feet, he noticed a small chink in the stair had rubbed away, and his right foot had the unfortunate fate to rely on just that place in the stairs.

"Why these are unacceptable!" Fitzwilliam suddenly turned around and began to slowly climb the stairs distracted by the new problem of a portion of his house in desperate need of repair. But Elizabeth called to him from the bottom.

"You will not be able to replaster and fix that step tonight. If you do not hurry, all of my preparations will have been for not!"

Darcy shrugged and took the rest of the ancient stairs with greater care before he joined his wife in the bustling kitchen. Only the younger staff snuck a glance at Mr. and Mrs. Darcy dashing through the rows as they were politely chastised by the more experienced staff not to look. But for the young kitchen maids and hall boys, seeing the master or mistress in their full dinner party attire was something out of a fairytale, and so their curiosity could not be helped.

As she came to the door that Higgins described, Mrs. Darcy again carefully inspected the hall and then led her husband across it to his study. A swift inspection of the room demonstrated that all preparations had been made and she did her best to block the magnificent contraption with her body as there was no proper way to cover it with a cloth while the steam moved through the chambers. Realizing she held precious few minutes before her surprise spoiled, Elizabeth spoke as fast as she might.

"You have given me such a number of gifts that I can scarcely enumerate in this very moment without stumbling over my words and likely forget more than one thoughtful gesture. And so, I hope you will accept this gift as a token of my love, Fitzwilliam. It serves no purpose I'm afraid, but I hope the joy and amusement it brings reminds you of the happiness you give to me."

Fitzwilliam's jaw dropped in abject shock as Elizabeth made a small sidestep and finally witnessed the whirling gears and movements of the silver and gold contraption behind her as the steam puffed out of the top. Fitzwilliam's face lit up like that of a young boy. Elizabeth had to cover her mouth lest she giggle and break the spell. Her husband walked carefully around the entire apparatus looking at it and then up at her and then back at it.

"You selected this . . . for me?" He asked with sincere sentimentality.

Elizabeth nodded.

"I have seen the large clunky steam engines in factories, but this, this is elegant and a marvel!" Fitzwilliam could not help himself but reach forward to touch as Elizabeth shouted.

"No! You mustn't!" And she dashed forward to catch his hand before he managed to scald himself. "The silversmith was quite clear. The pipes will burn you and the steam coming out of the spout is strong enough to make a nasty gash."

Fitzwilliam's eyes traveled to the innocent looking whistling spout of steam and raised an eyebrow. Surely it could not be worse than a teakettle, and he inquired so much as Elizabeth again shook her head.

"I asked the very same. But from this chamber here," Elizabeth carefully pointed without touching the large pot where a small fire boiled the water.

"The steam travels through here, and you will notice that the pipes become significantly thinner as the steam moves through the contraption. This is necessary to make the wheels move, and the gears turn, but it also creates an enormous amount of pressure."

Fitzwilliam nodded and beamed down at his wife as Elizabeth suddenly felt very self-conscious to be explaining the movements to her husband. Her cheeks burned red as she a thought of the warning Mrs. McSorley had given her when she originally planned to present Fitzwilliam with his gift in front of other gentlemen. Mrs. McSorley had tactfully suggested it might be better to present such a gift privately and allow Mr. Darcy to display the model to their guests as it was his gift.

"Do you like it?" Elizabeth asked as the steam whistle slow down to merely a whisper and soon the gears began to slow. She suddenly began to feel that her gift provided very little purpose and paled in comparison to the elegant jewels and other trinkets Mr. Darcy had bestowed upon her.

Fitzwilliam scooped his wife into his arms and crushed her to his chest. "It has been years since anyone has given me a gift! How could I not adore anything you would give me, my Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth smiled as she looked up at him but then wrinkled her nose which he promptly kissed.

"But aside from that, your gift is truly wonderful. I've never seen anything like it, and I shall proudly display it in all of our homes."

Elizabeth sighed and turned her face to rest her cheek against her husband's breastbone as the Darcys remained embraced while the steam contraption came to a complete stop. Her gift has served as a crude timepiece. Their time for private comfort in each other had come to a close as the gong sounded to signal dinner was ready. Fitzwilliam was the first to break their embrace and gallantly offer his arm to his wife.

"Shall we, Mrs. Darcy?"

Elizabeth accepted his arm and reminded him of his unpalatable future. "You will have to speak to the people sitting next seated next to you, Fitzwilliam."

"I know, dearest. I merely hope that in your seating arrangements you were very kind."

Darcy opened the door to the study, and the two walked out to join the rest of the couples congregating in the parlor as the procession of precedence into the dining room began.

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The sale of The Whisky Wedding did remarkable things and I am still on target to release this book at the end of the month. Aiming for the 21st now. All of the reviews on Whisky and this book etc. are the energy I am using to adopt a policy of JUST WRITE. It's what I have to do to get back to being as fast as I used to be, instead of letting a few creepy reviewers shame me for "churning them out." Those who can't should not get in the way of those who can.

MY READERS are who I care about most, those who aren't true fans are welcome to find another author out there for them, their words and criticisms will not get space in my head any longer. :)

let's finish this book!