Hello, readers.
Thank you for reading my story. Please leave a review and let me know how you think it is going. I appreciate your feedback up to this point.
*Please note, that I will keep it on Fanfic through March 31st, and then remove it to publish it to Amazon KU.
PS- Also, if you have Instagram or FB you can follow me. I'm going to be doing some giveaways as I get closer to release date. :)
FB- Anngela Schroeder-Author
IG-AnngelaSchroederAuthor
Chapter 17
January 5, 1812
She was floating. Floating up higher and higher and the scent of him surrounded her. Her dreams were more real than ever, but she was at the place between awake and asleep where she could feel the blanket tickling her nose and yet could still see him before her. He sat by the fire in Mr. Collin's study, his warm eyes caressing her from across the room.
"Elizabeth." His voice was soft and inviting, and she needed no other encouragement than his outstretched arms. She nuzzled deeper against the mattress and sighed at his words. "My, love." His arms surrounded her and she could hear his heartbeat as her head rested against his chest.
"Hurry, William. Before Jane comes to send me to my room," she whispered to the blanket, as she rushed towards him in her dreams. She felt a sharp jolt and then his scent was there again.
The dream emboldened her and she turned her head and began grazing her lips against his jaw, the rough stubble prickling her flesh, until she stopped at the soft skin at his throat. "Elizabeth, you mustn't…"
She giggled at his admonishing, as her lips continued on their pathway to bliss. "William Fitzroy Darcy," she whispered again, placing slow, languid kisses on his throat. "I love you."
XXXXX
He had rushed to the hallway at her scream, leaving a confused Georgiana behind. Without thinking, he had immediately scooped Elizabeth up and followed the doctor's directive to take her to her room. He knew the way. He knew every inch of where she had been in the house for the last twenty-four hours. His thoughts were as full of her then as his senses were now, with her soft form draped in his arms, and her lips pressing against his collar.
At least, that's where they began. She had started to murmur unintelligible words and sounds. "Elizabeth," he had said softly, trying to wake her. "My love." And she had turned her head to him and began nuzzling his chest. His body tensed, if only for a moment. His long legs had outstretched the others in the hallway and he was twenty yards ahead of them with a footman at the front, rushing to get the door open.
And then he almost became undone at her words. "Hurry, William. Before Jane comes to send me to my room." His body lurched, and he had to regain his balance and continue down the hall, nodding at the footman who made some inane comment about calling Elizabeth's maid before hurrying to the servant's wing.
And then he felt them. Her lips tracing his jaw, nibbling at his stubble. "Elizabeth. You mustn't," he had whispered, closing his own lips before a moan escaped.
He modulated his breathing as his blood began to course through him, until she giggled and slowly began to kiss his neck. Streaks of white-hot fire ran up his body as his arms began to tremble and he clenched her tighter so as not to drop her. His body began to betray him; strength began to falter and in that one moment, Fitzwilliam Darcy valued the idea of weakness more than his infernal strength.
He walked into the room and woodenly stepped towards the bed to lay her on the counterpane when he heard the words he had dreamed of hearing. "William Fitzroy Darcy," she whispered again, placing slow, languid kisses on his throat. "I love you."
He paused, and not because of the use of his name from his other life. No, his hope was tied into that one phrase. Hearing fast approaching footsteps in the hallway, he lowered his lips and gently traced hers with his own. "And I love you, Elizabeth Bennet."
He lay her on the bed and walked to the window, his hands behind his back as Georgiana entered the room.
"Is she well? Oh, Elizabeth! What caused such a shock?"
Anne de Bourgh and Doctors Wiley and Clarence followed close behind, as the patient began to stir.
Darcy ached to go to her as he heard the uncertainty in her voice. "How am I here? Miss de Bourgh? Mrs. Wickham? How am I at Rosings? Is the duel over? Where is William?" His body tensed at Georgiana's cry of dismay.
"Elizabeth!" Georgiana cried, her voice hollow. "Why would you say that?"
Darcy turned and saw Elizabeth's confusion.
"Forgive me…it is only. I must know. Is the duel over? Is your husband dead?" Looking up she saw who she needed. "William!" She stretched out her hands and began to sob. "Oh, my love. You are alive. I knew you would. I hoped you would! But, when I saw you fall after the gunshot from the woods, and then a second shot, I must have fainted." She looked from Anne to Georgiana and then back to Darcy, before repeating "Is Wickham dead?"
The silence was heavy. He walked quickly across the room, and sat on the edge of the bed gathering her in his arms. "Mr. Darcy," Dr. Wiley said, censure in his tone.
"Propriety be damned," he replied reaching up and touching her face. "Elizabeth. Wickham is not dead. The duel never happened."
"Never happened?" She asked. "But I was there! And so was Anne! Were you not there?" she asked turning to Anne.
Darcy's heart stopped when Anne whispered, "Yes. I was there. And Fitzwilliam was shot by a man in the woods whom Wickham had hired."
Darcy gasped and whipped around to face his cousin. "What are you saying?"
"He was a servant. The servant of Lord Gafton!" Georgiana whispered. "I remember!"
"He was paid by Wickham." Anne's hushed tones were met by the continued silence in the room. "I had gone to the parsonage to get Elizabeth, but we were not in time."
Richard Fitzwilliam, who had been concealed by the door, stepped forward and stuttered a response. "What the bloody hell is all this? Georgiana married to Wickham? Darcy killed in a duel? What are you all jabbering on about?"
Elizabeth inhaled a quick breath, as she pushed away from Darcy, and leaned back towards the headboard. "But, you were not alive," she said to the Colonel. "You were killed in a sledding accident. Georgiana had never met you." And at that moment, Darcy witnessed the veil be lifted from her eyes as she looked around at everyone before settling on the man in front of her. "Willi––Mr. Darcy…I do not understand. Am I to Bedlam?"
"No," he said, his tender gaze meeting hers. "You have had quite a scare, Eliz…Miss Bennet. All will be explained."
He looked up at Dr. Clarence, whose eyes roamed over the four members of the party, before the older man said, "Dr. Wiley, I would like to speak to Miss Bennet, Miss Darcy and Miss de Bourgh alone."
"I am not leaving." Darcy squared his shoulders to face the others in the room.
"With our staying, the rules of propriety will be met," Anne said, turning to Dr. Wiley and Richard. "However, gentlemen, if you will excuse us? I believe there are things of a delicate nature which need to be discussed privately."
"Privately? Anne!" Richard shouted "I am not leaving either!"
Anne glided over and stood directly in front of him before gently leaning up and kissing his cheek. "Yes, you are, Bucky. I will explain all later."
Richard's bluster died at her words. "Bucky? Why…Annie…you have not called me Bucky since we were children…"
A twinkle in her eye was her initial response before she answered him. "Go, Bucky."
Gazing into her eyes, a soft smile grew at his lips before he said, "Come, Dr. Wiley. I am in need of a strong drink, and you can join me if you wish. If you do not care to imbibe, you can watch." The doctor followed Richard out, and closed the door behind him.
The remaining party stood in silence, each afraid of moving, not knowing which world they truly inhabited, their only clue having just left the room in his tall Hessians.
Darcy cleared his throat. "Dr. Clarence…or whatever your name may be. It is time you told us what is the meaning of this trickery."
The old doctor chuckled and removed his spectacles before taking out a handkerchief. He slowly and meticulously wiped the glass, inspected it, then replied, "There is no deception, Darcy. Only a way for you, and those around you to understand that the lives we have been given provide more significance to others than we realize. If we all looked at our world through the eyes of those around us, we would determine we are more important than we believed."
Georgiana's voice cut through the room. "My brother would never wish to be anything other than a Darcy. William is a man of honor who fulfills his role admirably."
"No, Georgie." He shook his head and leaned forward on the edge of the bed lowering his head. "I am not that man. If I were, you would never have gone to Ramsgate…"
"William! You will not blame my shortcomings upon yourself!" Georgiana cried. "I am to blame for my almost ruin. I am to blame for believing one of the most worthless men in all of England! I am to blame for my silly romantic notions. Not you!" Her clenched fists enunciated each point as they swung down and hit her legs while her breathing increased. "I am the one who should not have been born. Not you!"
"Georgie!"
"No," she said, holding up her hand, as tears began to well in her eyes. "It is true. I am a pampered, silly girl who knows nothing of the world around her. I can barely hold a conversation with our tenants, let alone someone of status. How will I ever succeed in society? If there was no Georgiana Darcy, you would not carry the added burden upon your life of a juvenile charge." Her last words were cut short by a barely concealed sob as tears began to stream down her cheeks.
Without a thought, Darcy opened his arms, and Georgiana rushed into them, weeping. He shushed her and rocked back and forth as he did for so many years after their father died. He allowed her sobs to subside before finally pulling her away from him and wiping her tears. "If you could only see yourself through my eyes, Georgie. You are a marvelous young woman who will marry a good man and raise children which would make our parents proud. We have, all of us, had an indiscretion or two in our lifetime. You must put it behind you and think on it no more. Only misery can come from such thoughts."
Her sobs slowed, and she wiped away the tears. "I do not deserve a brother as good as you."
"But you do. And that is why I am here, in this life. Is that not correct, Doctor?"
All eyes turned to the older man, who had sat in one of the chairs by the fire. That is one of the reasons, Darcy. But, there are others as well."
"Such as?"
He smiled. "Darcy, you are a good man. You have the power to ruin many lives, yet you do not. By your wishing not to be born, you removed the pure love and goodness from the world and allowed evil to win."
"From the world? Doctor, that is ridiculous."
"Is it? Think on it. With you never born, how did your sister fair? Your cousin? Mr. Bingley? And even extended further? What became of Pemberley? Of its tenants and servants? Do you not recall?"
"I was miserable, Wills," Georgiana said, putting her head on his shoulder.
"As was I," Anne echoed. "Although, I did enjoy the independence, which I do not think I will give up so easily." A slight grin spread across her lips before Darcy turned back to the doctor.
"I still do not understand."
"Do you not recall the words of the gypsy? 'One man's evil will unite those with the purest love. Do not abandon your destiny for false hopes. The purest love will always recognize your soul.'
"The purest love."
"But why does Richard not remember anything? He certainly loves my brother."
"He had died young. Only those who lived in Darcy's dream, and who truly feel pure love for him, would remember."
"So, Wickham does not remember?"
"No."
"And Lady Catherine?"
Clarence shook his head.
Anne quietly answered. "Mama only loves what she can control, Darcy. She has never been able to control you. You are your own man. If it is pure love you seek, then those in this room offer it to you…in varying degrees." Anne's voice lowered further, as Darcy immediately turned to Elizabeth.
She had moved to the edge of the bed, her legs dangling off the side, and had remained quiet during the discussion. She looked up at him, her eyes still swimming with the remnants of tears.
"Miss Bennet. Might I entreat you to…forgo luncheon today and take the carriage ride we discussed this morning?"
She paused for only a minute, before nodding in ascent. "Certainly, Sir. I will meet you downstairs."
XXXXX
There was a frost in the air, and the winter storm which had threatened for the last two weeks was slowly creeping into the valley. The clouds were far enough in the distance that Elizabeth was not concerned. But for the storm in her heart, she could not say the same. She only hoped it had a pleasing outcome.
They bounced along quietly in Anne's curricle, having not spoken since leaving Rosing's. Yet, although snuggled warmly under a blanket with a brick at their feet, she shuddered. Elizabeth knew where he was driving. The scene duel became more vivid in her mind the closer they came to the grounds: the thorn bush she brushed past in attempts to warn Fitzroy; the ha-ha she and Anne jumped over; the gravel drive she had raced down.
Her breathing began to increase as he brought the carriage to a slow halt before jumping down, walking around and extending his hand to her.
She walked directly to the spot and attempted to formulate the words. "It was here…where you fell. Here is where I knelt over you unable to cease my tears."
"Can you recall what occurred after that?"
She shook her head, curls bouncing. "No. That is where my dream always ends."
"And that was where I woke up in the parlor of the parsonage." He glanced around then extended his hand to her. "Come, let us walk. No need to wallow in this melancholy."
She gave a small smile of agreement, and shyly put her hand in his, as they turned to walk towards the ruins. "It appears the Colonel and Georgiana have been delayed."
"So it would seem," he said with a strange sound in his voice. "Although, Miss Bennet, to be frank, I believe they never had intentions of following us."
"I do believe you are correct, Sir."
They continued to walk, skirting the outside of what had once appeared to her to be the great hall, but in recent years had become a den for foxes.
"What do you remember of…of the other life?" his head was facing forward, but she once again heard a question in his voice.
"I remember that it just seemed to start. There was no preface. My existence seemed to stem from the day I found you and you were brought into the parish house."
"Do you recall where you found me?" he asked, stepping over a small log before him.
"No. Just that I had. You were gravely injured and I thought you would die." She attempted to hide the catch in her throat but could not. He squeezed her hand, which she had forgotten he was holding and stamped down the flutter of her heart. "I remember how I felt so certain the pictures of Georgiana's father looked so much like you."
"Yes."
"Was that truly what your father and mother looked like?"
"Yes, and those were pictures I had not seen in a long time."
"They are no longer at Pemberley?"
"Yes, but they are at the bottom of the lake." At her quizzical expression, he continued. "Wickham had convinced me as a child of eight to take my mother's locket with those miniatures and throw it into the lake as if it were pirate treasure. We were to dive for it and find the 'gold.'"
"And?" Elizabeth asked.
"We never found it, but I got a good ear boxing."
"And Wickham?"
"He got away without consequences, as he always did."
She released his hand and walked to what remained of a wall. Leaning against it she could not look at him when she whispered. "You must despise me."
"Despise you?"
"Yes. It is because of my faith in an unworthy man this all occurred."
"It was because of my arrogance and conceit that this all occurred."
She shook her head. "Sir, you are too kind to me, but you must see you are mistaken."
He walked towards her. "Miss Bennet, you must know my 'other life' was one I did not wish to leave."
"What?" Her eyes opened wide and she asked in astonishment. "But how can that be? I did not even save you. You died."
"No, Elizabeth," he said, breathing her name, and taking another step towards her. "Because of you, I lived. My life has been filled with sorrow, for I did not know true joy until a muddy day in Hertfordshire where a maiden, whom I had attempted to avoid, showed herself with her petticoats six inches deep in mud."
"It was definitely not at an assembly in Meryton where this recognition took place?" she cocked her brow, attempting to go back to the familiar world of teasing, as her cheeks were becoming too flushed by his open admiration.
"No. For sure it was not. It could not be. I had trained myself to find all women barely tolerable. The only ones worth noticing were those the ton found acceptable, and yet, for me, there was truly no one. No one until a woman with eyes as dark as a summer storm had arched her perfectly shaped brow and shook me to my core. You, Elizabeth, you possessed me. Unlike the vapid women at Almacks and St. James, your soul crackles and burns, its fire consumes me. I do not understand the hold you have over me, Elizabeth Bennet, but I am unwilling to regain control. I cannot account for what it is." He reached to touch her skin, and she closed her eyes, and allowed his hand to cradle her cheek.
"At times in my life, I have felt as Odysseus. I have been many men and lived a lifetime before truly coming home to those who love me. I have had to fight for what is mine and I will not lose it." His thumb grazed her jaw line, and gently caressed her lower lip. "I will not lose you." His voice husky with emotion, he allowed his words to hang between them. "Dare I hope that you feel the same, and that this too is not a dream?"
Her lips pursed together, laying a soft kiss upon his thumb. "It is not," she replied. "I too have lived in a world of dreams, unwilling to see reality for what it is. Allowing my foolish pride and false hopes to control my destiny. But, that has changed. You say you have chosen me. Yet…William…I choose you. I choose a life of joy and happiness; of love and respect; of––"
But, there was nothing left to say, and even if there was, no words were necessary. Darcy pulled her close and tasted the sweetness of her lips, cutting off her thoughts, mid-sentence. Her initial shock was short lived as she shyly returned his kisses, fueling Darcy's response. His hands rested on her hips as he slowly pulled back, leaning his head against hers.
"You cannot know how I have waited to hear those words from this Elizabeth Bennet."
She smiled and stretched up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "And you shall hear it for many years to come, Sir. For you cannot be rid of me so easily."
"Nor do I wish to, my love. Nor do I wish to."
