Section I, Section II, Section III, Section IV, Section V
Chapter 17
It was not fair, Lisa told herself while she slowly led Pepper around the stable grounds, that Jane should be so happy and she should be so miserable. She was truly happy for her sister, but Jane had always had occasion to be happy. Their mother never disapproved of her, always liked her friends, boyfriends, and encouraged her interests. Lisa didn't like feeling sorry for herself, nor did she like being jealous of Jane, but for some reason, as she had watched the plane that carried her sister and her new brother-in-law take off for England, her new home, those feelings completely enveloped her.
It had been exactly those feelings which had made her react to Darcy's every move that Saturday. He had started this whole thing, after all, bringing his sorry British butt in, taking over, and bringing with him two men who couldn't be more different: George Wickham and Charles Bingley. Wickham had ruined her youngest sister's life, and Bingley had become her older sister's. Why couldn't she just be happy for either of them? They certainly were. Though she couldn't figure out why, Lydia was completely engrossed in her pregnancy, reading (that was enough of a shock, seeing Lydia read a book without pictures) every book she could on the subject, learning as much as she could about what was happening to her body and how her baby was growing. Am I just too much of a stick-in-the-mud? Is it wrong to be concerned with the fact that her life as she knows it is over?
Shivering, she steered Pepper back to the stables. "Time to go in, girl."
What Darcy had done for Lydia was extraordinary. Lisa was really very grateful for it, though she had been abominably rude to him the day he brought Wickham back. Lydia knew nothing of the subject; she had assumed the reason Wickham had left was to collect his things from England, though he returned with very little.
As she finished settling Pepper and crawled into her truck, she came to the conclusion that she was going to have to get used to going home and not seeing Jane sprawled on the couch waiting for her. She was going to have to get used to not stretching out on the couch herself and waiting for Jane. She was going to have to get used to a complete lack of Jane's famous cheesecakes. Jane had always encouraged her talent for cooking by asking what Lisa was going to make for dinner, as usually Lisa could care less . . . now, she would have to get used to the fact that she could get by not caring. Jane's laughter, her smile, her warmth . . . all an ocean away.
And Mr. Dorky started the whole thing.
I should write to him and tell him exactly what he's done to me, she thought, parking the truck. Stupid jerk. Stupid, good-looking jerk. Why didn't you run after me? Apologize for Catherine's behavior, swoop me into your arms, and kiss me passionately, like on the waterfront, or on the patio? Stupid, gorgeous jerk.
She flopped down on the couch and held her arms around her, chuckling absently to herself as she realized she had once before had nearly the same thought. How she had loved those kisses! Soft at first, as if it was his first kiss, as if he was unsure of what to do, and then, so gentle and warm, passionately turning into a masterful, golden work of his big, sensuous lips.
Lisa realized she had her fingers on her lips in her remembrance of his. She got up from the couch resolutely and headed for her bedroom. She flipped on the computer, waited impatiently for it to boot, and logged on to the internet.
"You have new mail."
The incessantly cheerful voice of the computer as it informed him he had yet another problem to deal with just waiting for him at his computer irritated Fitzwilliam Darcy to no end.
"Damnation, will it never cease?" he snapped at no one in particular as he turned around to face it. He clicked the OK button, and his heart stopped as he read who the sender was.
"Lisa Bennet."
Without much delay, he opened the message.
Dear Mr. Darcy:I was never really sure what to call you. Fitzwilliam seems so formal, and yet Fitz is too personal. The only other option is your surname, which, I think, is most appropriate, considering the turn our relationship has taken.
I write to you because I believe I owe you an explanation. I don't feel an apology is in order. Your aunt's behavior was completely inexcusable. Amongst her blather, she speaks of common decency and civilities, yet in the same breath, walks into my parents' home and starts handing out insults. Further, the private business of my family is no concern of hers.
The explanation I believe I owe you is for my own behavior. It has been said that my temper, and my emotions, are at best erratic. I have to say that it is true, but only to a point. I am a deeply emotional person, and have always been. I take almost everything personal. That particular character trait of mine has gotten me hurt more than once. My mother, Julia, has always openly preferred any of her other daughters to me, and that has caused a significant amount of pain. Jane has always been there to try to fill the void, but it can't take the place of the love I have wanted from my mother.
I do not like to talk about this, so if it seems like it is not thought out well, or if I am whining, please forgive me.
Her apparent dislike of me, though Jane and Dad are constantly telling me that she does love me, stems from the fact that I was supposed to be a boy when I was born. When I came out a girl, she named me after my father's mother, who she never truly liked, and in fits of anger against my father, I have heard her say that she hated my grandmother.
From the time I was a child, I can remember favoritism being shown to my other sisters. Jane is, obviously, a beautiful woman; she was a beautiful young woman and a beautiful child. My mother ranks her girls in their beauty, along with anything else she can come up with, and it the list is always: Jane, Lydia, Katie, Mary, Lisa. My name usually comes last.
Jane has an extraordinary ability to see the good in anyone. She was convinced, when news of Lydia's pregnancy was revealed, that Wickham would stay in the States of his own accord. Our mother has always nurtured that part of Jane, and it is a good character trait to have sometimes, I suppose, but I am constantly asked why I do not have it.
Mary is very gifted in music; especially with her violin. She will be engaged in auditions for chairs in orchestras this winter. This is just another area in which I have nothing to compare.
Catherine (Katie) is extremely smart; book smart. She is very shy, and for that reason clings to Lydia, or at least, she used to cling to Lydia, whose bubbly personality would get her where ever she wanted to go socially. It hasn't been till recently, with Lydia's toning-down, that she's really realized her intelligence. She recently scored 1589 on her SAT, and as I scored about an 800, again my shortcomings as a daughter were paraded about the Bennet home.
Lydia is quite a story. She is a very pretty girl, very good-humored; again this makes me incomparable to one of my sisters. She is the youngest, the baby, and has always had more than enough attention, but is, or was, always in want of more, and always got it, and if I ever interrupted that attention, it would spark my mother's anger and we would fight. We were constantly fighting.
I have never been a very feminine person. I love my horse, and I love to hike, and if I could have an animal in my apartment I would have a great big hound of some sort, or maybe a German shepherd, just to keep Julia from visiting, which I'm sure she won't be doing any more with Jane in England. When we were smaller children she always put us in dresses and told us to behave like "little ladies." I have never been a little lady. I never wish to be a little lady. I have only ever wanted to be myself, and that has never been good enough for Julia.
The only two people who have ever really, truly accepted me for who I am are Jane and my father. They have always been my source of encouragement and love, but as I have said before, my relationship with my mother has always been a shroud over that.
And then your aunt. You say that you want to marry me, and even if that is a sincere feeling, your aunt would only take the place of my mother, because you gave no indication that you could stand up to her. You didn't do it for Georgiana, so why would you do it for me?
When you tell me that I have beautiful eyes, which no one ever has, in fact, no one has ever even mentioned my eyes, or when you tell me that you think my name is beautiful, how am I to know you are sincere? I want to believe you feel those things. I want to believe you are in love with me. I want to fall in love with you, but I have just been hurt too many times. I have been told too many times that I am inadequate.
I hope this goes a way to explain any kind of behavior that you might consider irrational. I only wanted to offer this, and have no expectation of a return letter or e-mail. I am sure within a few months Jane will get me to fly across the ocean and I will see you again. If you would, please tell Georgiana and Anne that I enjoyed their company, and if they would like, my e-mail or home address, which Jane will have for them, are theirs. I would love to hear from them. I only want to add that I am truly sorry things didn't work out between us. I simply have too much pride and excess baggage to have a healthy relationship with anyone.
Sincerely,
Lisa Bennet
Darcy let out a breath and sat back in his chair. He dropped his pen on the floor, staring at the screen. "She does not love me."
Chapter 18
At long last, the unusually cold winter was coming to an end. Lisa's only happiness was found at the stable with Pepper, at her computer writing, or in e-mail from Jane. They were usually short, but came often enough. She tried to get along better with her mother, as she knew Jane's absence was painful for her, too. She printed out Jane's e-mails when they were not too personal and brought them over for her to read, and once or twice had gone shopping with her. She was learning to live with her mother and without her sister, but she would have given anything to change Jane's mind and make her and Bingley move back to Wisconsin.
Well, that's an amazingly selfish thought, she scolded herself, walking downstairs for the mail one Saturday in her stocking feet and sweatpants. She unlocked the little box; the sole envelope was from the stable. Oh, please, I paid this bill two weeks ago, she thought, irritated. She ran up the stairs and flopped down on the sofa to read what she thought was a past due notice.
Her eyes scanned the paper, and then again. "We regret to inform you that Evergreen Stables is being sold." She stared at the words in disbelief. "The new owners will not continue in the traditional use of this land." Her heart began pounding wildly. Where would she put Pepper? There was no other stable near enough! "We have to ask that all horses and equipment are moved by the end of the month."
She dropped the paper on the floor and drew her knees to her chest, cradling herself. She had given up her sister, her dearest, closest friend, to a wonderful man, even though he lived in an entirely different country, and she was beginning to accept that. But now Pepper? Their quiet rides would soon come to an end; she had been Lisa's only source of refuge in the months since Jane's wedding.
A tear rolled down her cheek and she found herself dialing the phone. She had never called Jane before; it seemed silly when e-mail was right at her fingertips. But she needed her sister.
Halfway across the world, Jane Bingley sat in the warm embrace of her husband late that Saturday evening, watching the embers in the fireplace. She had just sent a real letter off to Lisa, complete with pictures from the honeymoon.
"When will your sister visit Netherfield?" asked Bingley, bending to kiss her neck.
"Mm . . . I don't know. Soon, I hope." She continued to gaze into the fireplace. "I can't believe it's still cold enough in April for a fire."
"You can't convince me you don't enjoy fires," he said, his voice low, and he kissed her neck again. He smiled in remembrance of the past winter, and how many nights they had spent in front of that very same fireplace making love.
She smiled in return and gave a throaty laugh. "Oh, I do," she replied. "I just never wanted it to end."
"My dear, April is supposed to signify the renewal of life to the earth, not an end."
"End . . . no, not an end. Definitely not." Jane kept the smile on her face as she gazed into the flames. "Charles, I love you."
Bingley grinned. This was about the twelfth time that day that she'd expressed her love for him out of the blue. It wasn't that he didn't welcome every reminder of her love, he simply thought it unusual. "I love you, too." He kissed her cheek.
"Charles," she said again, sitting up to face him and disentangling herself from his arms. She gazed into his eyes shyly. "I've been trying to come up with a romantic way of telling you this, but for some reason I just can't think right."
Bingley smiled at her. "What is it, my love?"
"Charles . . . I . . . I'm pregnant." Her smile was uncontrollable, and she laughed. "I'm pregnant!"
"Jane . . ." Bingley's eyes lit up like the log on the fire, and he sat up, taking her hands. "A baby?"
Jane nodded. "Yes."
He tenderly gathered her up in his arms, placing her on his lap. "Jane, you are certainly the most remarkable woman I have ever known." He gazed into her eyes, and put his hand gently on her stomach. "There's a baby in there?"
"A very tiny one, yes, but a baby. Our baby."
"This is the cause for the many unexpected 'I love yous?'" Jane nodded, putting her head on her husband's shoulder. "I love you, Jane."
"I love you, too, Charles."
"But Jane?"
"Yes?"
"I love you."
She laughed. "I love you, too, Charles."
"Yes, but Jane?"
She sat up, looking into his eyes with mock impatience. "Yes, Charles?"
He gazed back lovingly at his wondrous wife, and softly kissed her lips. "I love you both."
There was a knock on the door, and one of the maids walked in. "I'm sorry to disturb you," she began with a curtsy, something Jane would never get used to, "but Mrs. Bingley, you have a telephone call."
Jane looked at her husband, confused. "Is it Mr. Darcy?" she asked, getting up.
"No," replied the maid. "'Tis a woman's voice; she says she's your sister."
Jane's brow furrowed again. It couldn't be Lisa; she had gotten an e-mail from her just that morning. It couldn't be Mary; she would have written a letter. Maybe it was Lydia, calling to brag about her daughter again. It was most likely Katie, whose life was never the same after Lydia had gotten herself pregnant and their parents blamed her.
She took the phone from the maid. "Hello?"
The maid cringed as she walked away. She would never get used to Mrs. Bingley's manner when answering the telephone.
"Lisa, it's so good to hear your voice! What's the matter?" She walked back to the couch and sat down again next to Bingley. "Oh, I'm sorry, Lis," she said, snuggling into her husband's warm embrace. She listened to her sister for a while, then interrupted her. "Lisa, why don't you come visit me?" she asked.
On the other side of the telephone, Lisa Bennet sighed. "I will," she conceded. "As soon as I find a place for Pepper."
Jane smiled and made arrangements with her sister, and sat back against Bingley again as she hung up the phone. "Lisa's stable is closing, and she has to find a new home for Pepper."
"She must be heartbroken," said Bingley, pushing his eyebrows together.
"She said as soon as she finds a home for Pepper, she'll come visit."
Bingley was thoughtful for a moment. "Do you suppose she will see Fitz?"
"Well," said Jane, a mischievous smile spreading over her face, "I don't think there's anything wrong in arranging a little something. They are, after all, practically family."
Bingley wrapped his arms around his wife's waist, spreading his hand flat against her stomach, still in awe that they had created an entirely new life, and kissed her cheek. "I like the way you think, Mrs. Bingley."
Chapter 19
Lisa had never been overseas before; in fact, she had never even flown before. Her heart pounded during the entire flight, even though she kept a walkman with her as her father had suggested.
When she finally reached the hotel after fighting with customs and trying to find her luggage and a taxi, she found a note waiting for her at the front desk of the quaint little inn in the quaint little town of Meryton. As she stumbled tiredly into her room, she flopped her bags down and opened the envelope, a heavy cream-colored thing with some type of seal on the flap. She recognized Jane's smooth hand.
Welcome to London, Lisa --I hope your trip went well. If it is near eight o'clock, Charles and I will be in the dining room. Knowing how flights can be, we won't be waiting for you, so if it's past eight, call us to let us know you're here safe. Otherwise, come down and have some supper with us.
PS -- This isn't exactly a jeans and boots type of place, so you might want to change.
Jane
Lisa raised her eyebrow at the last sentence of Jane's note, looking herself in the mirror above the dresser. "What's wrong with this?" she asked herself. She turned, looked again, and shrugged her shoulders. "If someone doesn't like this, they can kiss off," she decided. "Well . . . maybe not the hat." She put down the note, pulled off her Stetson, fluffed her curls, and re-examined herself in the mirror. Deciding she had hat head, she replaced the Stetson, and headed downstairs.
She stood at the entrance to the restaurant to look for Jane and Bingley, the maitre d' giving her questionable looks. He walked over to her, his hands folded aristocratically behind his back, his nose in the air, and asked, "Is there something I can do for you, miss?"
She turned to face him, and upon seeing his demeanor, decided to have a little fun with him. "Yep," she said, a huge smile on her face. "I'm a-lookin' fer m' sister."
"I beg your pardon?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "What is it you want?"
"I'm a-lookin' fer m' sister," she explained again, trying her best to imitate the accent of Jesse Keller. "Kin y' help me out here a little? She's real tall, 'n she's real skinny, least she used ta be, 'fore she and cousin Lenny got caught inna barn . . . man alive, was that a mess! Anywho, she got hitched jus' a coupla months ago, 'n ah'm here fer ta visit her." She smiled proudly.
The man continued to look down his nose at her. "I am sure she is not here," he said. "Perhaps you have the name of the hotel mistaken."
"No, no," she said, pulling a piece of paper from her back pocket and blowing a bubble with her chewing gum, "No, see here. Ah wrote it down jus' like she tol' me."
The man began to get upset with her. "I can assure you that your sister is not here. Please leave," he said forcefully.
"But ah'm s'posed ta meet up with her here, right in this very spot," she said, rumpling her brow, pretending to be hurt. "Ah gotta meet her. Been most four months since I seed her. Ya gotta help me, mister."
He looked over to his side and nodded to another man who was much younger and much larger than he, also dressed in a tuxedo, obviously the body guard or bouncer, or whatever they called them in England. The man walked over to the maitre d'. "Is there a problem here, Mr. Stephens?" he asked.
May as well have fun with this one, too! she thought. "Oh, my," she said, sauntering over to the bouncer. She got very close to him and ran a hand up his chest. "Ain't you the cutest thang!"
Meanwhile, Jane had spotted her sister across the room and with a grin pointed her out to Bingley. "Perhaps we should rescue Mr. Stephens," he said, his expression mirroring hers.
Jane nodded, and the couple walked to the entrance of the restaurant, Jane barely able to stifle a grin.
"Now listen to me, you stupid American, you are not welcome here. I have told you time and again that you have no one waiting here for you. If you do not leave of your own accord right now I shall have David escort you out. Now be gone with you!"
"Excuse me, Mr. Stephens," interrupted Bingley, "is there a problem here?"
"No," replied Stephens rather snidely, "she was just leaving." He again looked down his nose at Lisa.
"I beg your pardon, do you mean this young lady?" asked Bingley, motioning to Lisa, whose arm was in the firm grasp of David, the bouncer.
"Mr. Bingley, this is no lady," he protested. "David was about to show her the door."
"David?" questioned Bingley.
"Yes sir," said Stephens, quite proudly.
"Mr. Stephens, have you any idea who this is?"
"You mean her?" Stephens looked sideways at Lisa, who winked and popped her gum, and Bingley nodded. "I'm sorry, sir, I do not. She came in a few minutes ago looking for her sister."
"Yes, she did. I daresay, she has come a long way to visit Mrs. Bingley."
The look of utter shock and embarrassment on Stephens' face was absolutely priceless, and Jane could not help but smile. David immediately let go of Lisa's arm, but showed no sign of being embarrassed. "I apologize, madam," he said, inclining his head ever so slightly. "I meant no harm."
"It's all right," she said, her normal manner returning, taking a step away. She smiled at Jane and rushed over to hug her. "I missed you so much, Jane."
"I told you to change," admonished Jane, squeezing her sister.
Bingley allowed the two women to share a moment, and then turned to Mr. Stephens. "I believe you owe Miss Bennet an apology."
"Do forgive me, Miss Bennet," swallowed the man, "I meant no harm."
Lisa patted his cheek. "No one ever does, sweetie," she said with a grin. "Oh, and by the way, that little bit about cousin Lenny . . . well, we don't have a cousin Lenny."
"At least, we don't anymore," chimed Jane, glancing innocently off in another direction.
Stephens ignored this exchange between the sisters. "Might I bring a drink to your table?" he offered.
"Water," she said with a smile. "Just a glass of ice water." She turned to Bingley and hugged him. "It's good to see you, Chuck. Are you behaving yourself with my sister?"
"I am a perfect gentleman," he replied. "It is good to see you, as well. How was your flight?" he asked.
"I guess it went okay," she answered. "I've never flown before, so I don't know if it was a bad one or a good one."
Bingley escorted the ladies back to the table, and pulled out Lisa's chair for her. Mr. Stephens arrived with the glass of ice water, despite the fact that there were three full glasses already on the table, and asked if he could do anything more. "No, thanks . . . what's your first name?"
"Robert," he replied. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance."
"You didn't seem so pleased a few minutes ago," she said pointedly, sipping her water. Jane and Bingley both stifled chuckles.
"Yes, I . . . apologize once again." Mr. Stephens looked rather uncomfortable.
"It's all right, Bob," she replied cheekily. "Just don't let it happen again."
Mr. Stephens started to correct her form of address to him, but caught Bingley's look of warning. He nodded and went about his business, wishing them to enjoy their meal.
When he was gone, Lisa picked up her menu and scanned the outside. "So . . . what's good?"
Jane and Bingley exchanged grins, which Lisa caught. "What was that for?" she asked, sipping her water again.
Jane blushed. "Nothing," she replied. "I think the filet is good."
Lisa raised her eyebrow, and looked from her sister to her brother-in-law and back to her sister. "What?"
Bingley ignored her, and turned to his menu. "It was nothing," Jane said.
Lisa made a face and opened the cover of the menu, shrugging her shoulders. A small white card lay inside, and she picked it up, turning it over. "What's th--" She stopped, suddenly realizing what it was as she recognized the black and white picture as a sonogram. "Jane Bingley" was written in the corner of the small paper, with an arrow pointing to a particular speck of white, the quote "Here I am" written next to it. She took in a breath. "Oh . . . Jane," she whispered, looking from the picture to Jane and back again, not knowing what to think. "Oh, Jane," she repeated, a smile coming to her lips, and she reached across the table to hug her sister, and then hugged Bingley. "Congratulations."
Jane blushed furiously, looking with loving eyes to Bingley. "Thank you," she replied.
Lisa looked from one to the other, her eyes taking on an excited quality. "When will the baby be born?"
"In the winter," replied Bingley. "November second, I believe, is the date."
Jane nodded in confirmation. "I wanted you to be the first to know," Jane said to Lisa, holding her hand. "I want you to be the godmother."
"Oh, Jane," replied Lisa, "you're going to make me cry." The sisters exchanged glances for a minute, and Lisa turned to Bingley. "You haven't told your sister yet?" she asked.
Bingley grinned. "Lisa, I never told you this before, and I never let Jane tell you, either . . . I don't believe you would get on very well with Caroline."
"That doesn't mean she shouldn't know about this," said Lisa, rumpling her brow. "I'm sure she'd be excited to be an aunt."
Bingley looked down at his plate, ashamed of his sister for what he had to say. "Well . . . I'm afraid she doesn't . . . approve of Jane very well. I do fear for our child's relationship to her aunt."
"What do you mean she doesn't approve of Jane? What's not to approve of?" Lisa looked back at Bingley, who was obviously embarrassed, a challenging expression on her face.
"I knew she would be upset," he told Jane.
"Lisa, it's not a big deal," chided Jane, rubbing her sister's hand. "It's not worth getting upset over."
"Has she been mean to Jane?" asked Lisa of Bingley, ignoring her sister.
Bingley wanted to smile, but stifled the urge. "I assure you that I have taken care of my wife in regards to my sister."
"Look, I understand she's your sister and everything, but I'm just telling you now, Jane is an angel, and I'm not, as you and Bob over there are aware of. Miss Caroline better not mess with me."
Bingley looked from Lisa to Jane and back, and a grin spread across his face. "I don't think that will be a problem," he replied.
After their supper was over, the Bingleys walked Lisa back to her room. "Are you sure you won't stay with us?" asked Bingley.
Lisa shook her head. "No," she said, "I can't intrude like that."
"We have plenty of room," said Jane, trying to convince her. It was quite an understatement; Netherfield was the largest "house," as her husband had called it, that she had ever seen. That was, of course, until she visited Pemberley.
Lisa shook her head again as she opened the door. "You guys are newlyweds, and now you're probably going to get all gushy over the whole baby thing, and frankly, I just don't want to be around for that," she said teasingly.
Jane smiled at her sister and hugged her good-bye. "We have a lot to do tomorrow, so there will be a car waiting for you at seven thirty."
"Oh, for pity's sake!" cried Lisa sarcastically. "Jane, that's way too early. I'm on vacation! Why can't I sleep in?"
Jane smiled at her sister. "What did you do with Pepper?" she asked gently.
Lisa sighed. "I gave her away. To a family with a farm. She'll have a lot of room to roam around there, and kids. They might breed her."
Jane nodded. "You get some rest," she said, hugging her again. "I'll see you in the morning."
Chapter 20
Joining the Bingleys for breakfast the following morning upon her arrival at Netherfield, Lisa mentioned how surprised she had been over the size of it.
"It is a very old house," said Bingley, sipping his tea. "It was built in--"
"Oh, Lord, that smell again," came a prim voice, and a tall, skinny brunette sauntered in, wearing a pink satin robe that did little to hide her hip bones. She wafted past Lisa, not bothering to introduce herself. Lisa caught the stench of her strong perfume and wrinkled her nose at Jane, who grinned silently in return.
Bingley stood. "Good morning, Caroline," he greeted.
Caroline ignored him, as was usual ever since he had brought "that woman" to Netherfield as his bride. She filled her teacup and looked down her nose at Jane. "I do not suppose there is any way I can convince you to dispense of that horrendous-smelling liquid and have a cup of tea this morning?"
"Are you referring to my coffee?" asked an amused Jane, taking a sip from her mug.
"I am, and you know it," spat Caroline, sitting primly next to her brother, and still ignoring Lisa.
Lisa raised her eyebrow at Miss Bingley, understanding why Jane had written that "things are not always so rosy in a new home." My God, you're rude, she thought. I don't think I like this very much. "Why don't you introduce us, Chuck?" said Lisa sweetly, turning to her brother-in-law with an exaggerated smile.
Bingley threw an amused glance in his wife's direction and turned to his sister. "Caroline, I would like you to meet my sister-in-law, Lisa Bennet. Lisa, this is my sister, Caroline Bingley."
Lisa stood and reached across the table to shake Caroline's hand firmly, only to find that Caroline's hand was as weak as her manners. She literally wondered whether Caroline expected her to kiss it. "It's so nice to meet you," she gushed insincerely. "I've heard so much about you; Jane is constantly talking about her dear sister-in-law. I feel like I know you already! It's just Caroline this and Caroline that. Can I call ya Carrie?" she asked, and exaggerated tone of pleasantry in her voice.
Caroline managed a feeble, snobbish smile. "Please do not," she replied, taking her hand back. She made a fist with it as though Lisa had hurt her.
Lisa shrugged. "Have it your way. So, Chuck," she said, turning to her brother-in-law undaunted, "where's the stable?"
Caroline turned to her brother. "You let her call you 'Chuck?'" she said incredulously.
Bingley turned his amused face to Caroline. "It is a term of endearment," he replied, rising. "This way, Lisa."
In the morning room at Pemberley House at the same time, a young maid named Sarah smiled at Mr. Darcy as she poured his tea. "Good morning," she greeted, not expecting anything more than a polite, quiet "Good morning" in return and perhaps a smile or comment about how good the tea tasted. He'd been crabby lately, but was usually quietly civil in the morning.
"Good morning, Sarah," he replied, bringing the cup to his lips. "The tea is wonderful, as always."
"Thank you, sir," she said, smiling.
Darcy continued to look over his paper, not appearing to take any particular interest in it. "Today is May the eighth," he said. "I wonder what surprise lies ahead for us at Pemberley."
Sarah smiled at this rare attempt at conversation. Every May eighth in Pemberley House was a special one. No one was absolutely certain what happened the very first May eighth, or why the date had been etched in the silver cross that had since adorned the neck of each mistress of the manor house, but there were stories. For nearly the past two hundred years, an entry into the family journal had been made on that date, the first one being from the original Fitzwilliam Darcy, in 1812. It was the date of the birth of the very first Darcy twins, a girl and a boy. The entry from Mr. Darcy read, "When my dear wife accepted my proposal of marriage, I was in ecstasy. When she informed me of her condition not too many months prior this date, I thought I could never feel greater joy. Today, May the eighth, eighteen hundred twelve, I am positively euphoric as I look down on my beautiful daughter and my heir. My Elizabeth sleeps soundly. She is exhausted but I am sure as happy as I."
Each subsequent May the eighth had been eventful. Sometimes an occasion as bright as a wedding, sometimes an intimate moment shared when Mr. and Mrs. Darcy discovered that they were to have a child. Each occasion was a happy one, and each time was recorded in the family journal in the gallery.
"There is no wedding planned, and no child due soon. Indeed, it shall be a surprise."
Darcy smiled feebly up at Sarah, not believing the tradition would continue for him. Perhaps Georgiana had something up her sleeve. "I hope it will be a good one."
"Jesus Christ," mumbled Lisa under her breath as she looked up at the stately manor. "You've got to be kidding me."
Jane smiled at her sister's expression, which was exactly her own when she first laid eyes on Pemberley House. It was twice the size, twice the beauty, twice the grandeur of Netherfield. "Come on, Lis," she said, taking her by the arm. "Georgiana waits."
"Are you sure Mr. Dorky isn't here?"
"Who is Mr. Dorky?" questioned Caroline, her nose high as she walked toward the door. Bingley hadn't wanted to take her with for Lisa's first tour of Pemberley, and subsequent "surprise" meeting with Darcy, but she'd insisted, and when Caroline had her mind made up when it came to Fitzwilliam Darcy and her imagined relationship with him, there was no deterring her.
"Positive," piped Bingley, ignoring her. "He's been in Lambton with the legal team all week."
They walked up the steps of the great house, and Bingley tapped the knocker. A kindly-looking old woman opened the door, and Caroline brushed past her without so much as a "Hello." Undaunted, as Miss Caroline usually didn't give her the time of day when she visited with her brother, the woman smiled widely at Bingley. "Mr. Bingley, welcome to Pemberley," she said, opening the door fully. "Mrs. Bingley, you are looking well."
Bingley smiled proudly at his wife. "Mrs. Reynolds," he greeted, stepping inside the front hall behind his wife and sister-in-law, "I would like you to meet Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the sister of my most esteemed wife."
Lisa felt compelled to remove her Stetson as she smiled at the woman.
"Elizabeth." Mrs. Reynolds looked at Lisa, surprise coming over her face for a fleeting minute, and then gave a gleaming smile. "Welcome to Pemberley."
Lisa stuck her hand out. "Thanks," she said. "What was your first name?"
"Oh," blushed the housekeeper, "call me Mrs. Reynolds." She took Lisa's hand, pleasantly surprised at its firm grip. "May I take your hat?"
"Okay," she smiled, handing it to her. "Please call me Lisa." Mrs. Reynolds nodded, grinning.
"We are here for Georgiana," said Bingley.
Mrs. Reynolds tore her eyes from Lisa and put them back on Bingley. "Of course," she said, "this way, this way." She ushered them into a large room near the hall, where a magnificent antique pianoforte stood proudly amidst a multitude of beautiful furniture, photographs, and portraits. "Miss Darcy shall be down momentarily." She nodded, a glint in her eye at Lisa, and bowed out of the room.
"Bingey?"
Bingley turned at the sound of the light, young voice. "Anna, we are in the drawing room."
Lisa looked up at Bingley, a teasing gleam in her eye. "Bingey?" she questioned.
"When Anna, that is, Georgiana, was younger, she could not pronounce 'Charles' or 'Bingley.' The best she could do was Bingey."
She grinned. "Hm."
Bingley was sure she would be teasing him about that later, probably with Jane and Georgiana as accomplices. Georgiana's graceful figure appeared in the doorway, dressed in a pair of jeans and a Harvard sweatshirt. "Bingey!"
They met in a warm embrace, and Georgiana quickly hugged Jane as well. "You're looking well," smiled Georgiana.
"Thank you," she said, pulling back from her. "We have a guest with us today." Jane looked behind her at Lisa, who smiled hopefully.
"Hi."
"Lisa!" Georgiana practically screeched as she darted across the room. "It's so good to see you!" She wrapped her arms around her. "Did you bring the football?"
Lisa laughed. "Yeah," she said. "Looks like you have enough room to throw it around a little."
"Oh, certainly," replied Georgiana. She pulled away from Lisa. "My cousins shall be here this evening." She beamed.
"Both cousins?" questioned Lisa, a smile on her lips. She liked Anne's spunk, even though Lady Catherine was constantly trying to squelch it, and she wanted to get to know the colonel better; he was the most genuinely nice person she had met in a long time.
Georgiana nodded. "Right. Anne will be so pleased to see you."
"So we're having a regular party, huh?" asked Lisa, smiling widely again.
Georgiana nodded. "Come, I should show you the house," she said, taking Lisa's hand. "Bingey, Jane, come with us?"
Jane shook her head. Her cheeks were flushed and she looked a little warm to Lisa. She crossed the room to Jane, putting her hand on her shoulder. She didn't notice as Bingley crossed the room and whispered something in Georgiana's ear.
"Jane, are you all right?" she asked, concerned.
"Yes, I'm fine. It's perfectly normal to get a little warm from time to time." She practically glowed.
"Are you coming with us?"
"No," replied Jane. "You two go ahead. I'll rest here with Charles, and in a few minutes, we'll come upstairs."
Lisa nodded. "Okay. You sure you're okay?"
"Fine," smiled Jane. "Go."
Lisa smiled at her and followed Georgiana into the hall to begin her tour of Pemberley. Having been utterly amazed at the size of it to begin with, she was no less so of its spacious rooms and beautiful furnishings. There seemed to be a story to go along with each portrait or piece of furniture, but what Lisa was most impressed with was the family gallery.
It was a long room, the floor of which was made of marble; each portrait that hung there had a name plate beneath it. Georgiana proudly showed her the family journals, each original encased with glass for preservation, but a printed form above it so they could be read. Lisa flipped through them, reading with fascination, taking note of the last few entries made by George Darcy upon the births of his children and death of his wife. She looked around a little further at some of the other Darcy family heirlooms, admiring a replica of a pocket watch one Mrs. Darcy had given to her Mr. Darcy. It was etched on the back with the date she had given it to him, and the words "To my love." Lisa smiled on it and turned her attention to the portraits. Some of them were quite old; two or two hundred fifty years, but the one that caught her eye most of all was one of a man, a tall, proud man, with dark curls and deep eyes. Lisa gasped as she read the name plate that indicated the man's name, and noted that he looked an awful lot like the most current Fitzwilliam Darcy.
"His mother's name was Anne Fitzwilliam, like ours. I guess my mother was my fourteenth cousin or something," said Georgiana as she gazed up at it with Lisa. "My father told me that as soon as he met my mother, he knew he had to marry her."
"Your mother and father were in love, weren't they?" asked Lisa.
"Very much so, according to my brother," replied Georgiana with a smile. "I was three when my mother died, so I don't honestly remember much of her. Fitz keeps her alive in my heart. He tells me stories."
Lisa looked at Georgiana. "You really love your brother, don't you?"
"Yes, I do. He's very good to me." She paused a minute. "Lisa," she said suddenly, looking back at her, "how . . . how is Lydia?"
Lisa smiled comfortingly at Georgiana. "She's doing fine," she replied. "The baby is two months now. Lydia just had to grow up, and quick. She's very devoted to her daughter. She's got a tutor and taking night classes to finish high school, and she's talking about going to college."
"I'm so sorry that happened," said Georgiana, looking into Lisa's eyes with sorrow. "George and I--"
"I know," interrupted Lisa. "Your brother blamed himself for Lydia getting pregnant. He shouldn't have, and I shouldn't have let him. The whole thing," she said with a little laugh, "the whole thing, in the beginning, seemed like such a tragedy. A barely sixteen-year-old girl having the child of an almost thirty-year-old man . . . it was . . . it was like something you read in a book or magazine, maybe some stupid movie of the week, but it was happening to us. In real life. Now, though, I have to believe it happened for a reason. Lydia is a whole different person. She was always so selfish before, and so senseless with things, like money. She would get twenty bucks from my dad, go right out and spend it, and spend the next few days complaining that she had no money. Now, our dad is teaching her how to manage the money she gets from Wickham and from working; she's got two different savings accounts for Cheyenne, and every penny of it goes to the baby. Lydia doesn't complain anymore, and she and I can have a real conversation. It's like she's whole, like she just needed something to care about. Before this happened, the only thing she had to care about was herself. It's hard doing on her own, but she's happy, and Cheyenne couldn't be more so. She's a beautiful little girl. Have you ever seen her?"
Smiling, Georgiana shook her head. "No," she replied.
"I've got a picture in my purse. I'll show it to you when we go back downstairs. She's got these big blue eyes and her hair is really soft and blonde right now." She turned and looked up at the portrait of what must have been Georgiana's great-grandfather several times over, and almost instantly lost herself in thoughts of weddings and babies; things she might have had in common with Jane had she not been so guarded with her feelings and just let him into her heart.
Georgiana watched her. "He loves you, Lisa."
Lisa snapped her attention back to her hostess. "What?"
She smiled. "Nothing," she replied. You'll find out soon enough.
Chapter 21
"Why does it have to be so bloody rainy all the time?" mumbled Darcy to himself as he drove home amidst the thunder and lightening. "I haven't seen the blasted sun in three bleeding weeks! Bloody England."
Fitzwilliam Darcy had been rather crabby, as Mrs. Reynolds had put it, since he returned from the Bingley wedding. He had told her nothing, but he knew she saw the ruby ring he requested be sent to him in Wisconsin, no longer gracing the hand of the woman he had given it to but sitting on his bedside table. She had asked if he wanted her to put it away, but he only grumbled over his tea something about being in denial at the present moment, and would she please not speak of it. He knew she had watched him early one morning as he stared melancholy at a foggy window, and traced her name in the steam. He had let out a half-chuckle, mumbled something again to himself, and wiped it away. He had done a lot of mumbling lately, he supposed.
The e-mail he had received from Wisconsin did little to raise his spirits. At first, seeing her name next to the little envelope on the screen filled him with a wonderful feeling of hope. As he read it, however, the hope dwindled. It was a very impersonal message, and he supposed she had made it so on purpose. It did a lot to explain things; the reasons why her emotions were so varying and fragile. He had never been upset with her, even before the letter. She was proud of her family, though Darcy was unsure he would have been the same, after reading her message. She hadn't done anything to defend herself or her family that he wouldn't have, and she had never tried to be something she wasn't for him.
"Can you possibly move any slower?" he barked at another car. He turned down the long drive to Pemberley House, looking forward to seeing Georgiana. He had gone to Lambton every day that week, and they had planned for their cousins to come visit that evening to finally spend some time together.
He rumpled his brow as the house, and subsequently Charles Bingley's car, came into view. He stopped the car, got out, and slowly walked up the stairs in the downpour. If it was just Bingley, which he supposed it probably was, his appearance would not make any difference.
He pulled open the door and stepped inside. "Charles!" He took off his tie and untucked his shirt, pulling off his shoes. "Charles, what are you doing here?" Bingley was and always had been his closest friend, but he was in no mood to see friends at the moment.
"Fitz, where have you been?" asked an excited Bingley as he stepped into the hall. "We have been waiting for you for over an hour!"
"Who is 'we?'" stormed Darcy, unbuttoning his dress shirt. "And for your information, I have been with the bleeding legal team. Ought to fire every blasted one of them, the stupid oafs! They have muddled the entire purchase of United Plastics, and more than just the labor relations. Do you know, Charles," he continued, removing the shirt, "that we have to almost go back to the beginning and start entirely from scratch? If we are to get the merger of all eight plastics facilities under way by the beginning of the fiscal year, we--"
He stopped suddenly as he saw a figure slowly descend the stairs. Dear God . . . Angel . . . He swallowed, and his heart soared. "Lisa."
She glanced him over; he looked utterly ridiculous, his hair wet, in stocking feet, Dockers, and a tee-shirt, soaked to the skin. She thought she had never seen him look so good. She reached the bottom and grinned at him. "You don't have umbrellas in England?"
He wished Bingley away and for the nerve to walk over to the landing and take his angel in his arms, kiss her deeply, and take her back upstairs.
"Well, Fitz, there you are!" came an overly sweet voice. Caroline Bingley walked into the hall, and was promptly ignored. She seemed unaffected by the electricity passing between Lisa and Darcy, and walked over to him, taking the wet dress shirt from his hand. "Here, let me get that for you . . . and where is your tie? Oh, these shoes are soaked! You may need a new pair. Why ever were you walking in the rain?"
"Weh . . . welcome to Pemberley," he managed to utter to Lisa. He swallowed again. She smiled at him, the most beautiful thing he had seen in months. Oh, God, I love you, he thought, still holding himself still in fear of acting impulsively. "You are here with Jane and Charles?"
She nodded. "We came to see Georgiana . . . I thought you were going to be in Lambton all week." The water dripping from his lips and earlobes made them look thoroughly kissable; her heart began to pound.
Caroline jostled him. "Oops, I'm sorry! I did not mean to bump you," she said, giving him a fictitiously intimate look. Truth be told, he had hardly felt her hand on his rear. Gazing into the eyes of the woman he loved gave him far too much else to think of. Again, Caroline was ignored.
"I have been there, yes," he replied, "but it is only a short drive."
This made Lisa's attention snap from Darcy to Bingley. "Oh, really? Hm. A short drive, Chuck. Did you hear that? Short." She raised her eyebrow at him, trying to stifle the grateful smile.
Charles looked up at Lisa with mock surprise. "Oh - Lambton? Did you say Lambton, Fitz? Oh, how silly of me!" he declared, putting one hand in his pocket and scratching his head with the other. "I could have sworn you said London."
Darcy raised his own eyebrow at Bingley, promising himself that he would thank his old friend later. "I do believe you know where our legal team keeps their offices."
"Oh, yes, well . . . I thought . . . the dealings with legal would be an ongoing project . . . and you would be better suited in the London offices. Didn't I hear that from Jane?"
"Just a minute ago you swore you heard it from me."
Lisa smiled at this exchange, interrupting. "Am I to assume, then, that Lambton is not really a town not too far from London, but a town not too far from here?" she asked.
"Yes, yes," said Caroline impatiently. "Yes, Lambton is not very far from here at all. Come now, Fitz, get out of these wet clothes! You're going to catch your death of cold! I will go get your slippers," she offered, "and some tea from Mrs. Reynolds. Go, sit down in the drawing room." She smiled at him sweetly and patted his butt again, removing herself from the hall in search of Mrs. Reynolds and a pair of non-existent slippers.
Darcy looked over at Bingley for a moment, raising his eyebrow in Caroline's direction. "It was a necessary evil," replied Bingley, "if you were ever to see your angel again."
Jane passed Caroline on the way to the hall. "I don't know what's gotten into Fitz," she said, shaking her head as she sauntered by. Jane merely rumpled her brow in confusion of the almost friendly comment, and continued.
When she reached the hall and found her very wet boss standing there, carrying on a peaceable exchange of pleasantries with Lisa, she walked over to Bingley and put her arm around his waist. Lisa asked about Catherine, Darcy asked about Lydia, she asked about Pemberley's stables, he asked about her parents, she asked about the merger, he asked about her parents, she asked about Anne, he asked about Pepper.
"I think she went to a good home, but I miss her," finished Lisa. To her great relief, as she could think of nothing more to say, Georgiana came down the steps.
"Fitz, what took you so long?" she asked, "and why are you soaking?"
"Soaking?" he asked, and then looked down at himself. "Excuse me, please," he said to Lisa, and she nodded as he bounded up the steps.
Georgiana noted that there was a spring in his step she hadn't seen for months. Ah, Fitz, you are back! she thought. "Let's wait for him in the drawing room," she suggested. "Anne and Andrew should be here in about an hour and a half, so we have time for dinner."
Mrs. Reynolds appeared, a confused look on her face, and stepped close to Bingley. "Miss Bingley has just requested that I bring some hot tea to Mr. Darcy," she said. "Does Mr. Darcy want some hot tea?" Mrs. Reynolds usually did whatever was asked of her, but there had been many occasions when requests from Caroline Bingley for Mr. Darcy had been imagined by Caroline Bingley.
"Right now," replied Bingley with a cheeky grin, "I think Mr. Darcy would be better suited with a cold shower."
Upstairs, Darcy raced against himself, trying to change clothes and return to his guests wasting as little time as possible. He jumped over the bed, tearing through the closet and dresser, and as he ran a comb haphazardly through his wet hair, his eye caught the ruby ring on his bedside table. He picked it up and shoved it into his pocket. This ring was meant for only one woman, he thought to himself. And she shall always have it, even if I have to force feed it to her.
It wasn't five minutes and Darcy reappeared in the drawing room, dressed in dry jeans and a sweatshirt, but his hair still a little damp and tousled. Lisa smiled at him, loving this disheveled look. He chose a seat next to Lisa and near Georgiana, and began talking with them quite animatedly about her first impressions of their country, until they were interrupted by Bingley.
"Before we all go to the dining room, there is something I - rather, we, need to say." He smiled lovingly at Jane.
"Chuck, you should wait for Caroline," advised Lisa. "There is no greater evil than withholding such information from sisters, whether you like them or not."
Jane smiled, and at Bingley's questioning look, nodded. "She should be back shortly. I'm sure it won't take very long for her to figure out that Fitz doesn't have any slippers."
Indeed, Caroline was back in a matter of a minute or two. "Fitz, I can not find your slippers," she admonished. "Where in the world could they have gone?"
Lisa looked up at Caroline, truly feeling sorry for her that she felt the need to run about, looking for imaginary slippers, waiting on this man hand and foot to gain his attentions. She supposed Caroline was trying to impress on her that Darcy was somehow hers. Lisa wondered whether Darcy might have taken an interest in Caroline, had she always just been herself.
Darcy ignored her question. "You brother was just saying something," he said, irritated at her constant dalliance.
Bingley blushed, and nodded at his friend. "Yes, I was. Lisa was told last night, being Jane's closest friend and sister, and now we would like to share with you . . . we are expecting our first child in November."
Darcy smiled broadly and looked over at Georgiana, who jumped up from her chair. "A baby Bingey!" she exclaimed, and crossed the room to hug the Bingleys. "Jane, I knew there was something about you!"
"Mm, yes," smiled Darcy, "you have got a certain glow, haven't you?" he said, kissing her cheek. "Charles, congratulations." He held out his hand for Bingley to shake, and Bingley took it, pulling him into a hug. Darcy slapped his back and pulled away, a huge grin on his face. "You look utterly exhilarated."
"Oh, I am," replied Bingley. He lowered his voice to speak more intimately with Darcy. "I do apologize if our guest has caused any problems."
"I assure you," said Darcy, "that the only one of your guests that might pose a problem is Caroline." He smiled. "And she can be properly ignored."
"An art which you have most certainly taught my wife," said Bingley, returning the smile.
"And I do sincerely believe it is an art form," replied Darcy, turning back to his guests. "If we could all go to the dining room, I am certain there will be supper waiting."
The party gathered in the dining room, and sat down to eat. When they were finished, Lisa excused herself for a moment, and reappeared at the head of the table, holding something behind her back and smiling shyly.
"I have a little surprise for everyone, too," she said. "Actually it's really for Jane." She walked over to where her sister sat and placed the concealed object in front of her, then sat down again at her place across from Darcy.
Jane rumpled her brow as she picked up the hard-covered book. "Uncle Daddy, by--" Jane gasped and turned the book over, smiling widely, her eyes dancing. "By Lisa Bennet." She beamed at her sister; she'd never been more proud. "Lisa, you finally did it!"
Lisa nodded shyly. "I am no longer employed with United Plastics. Cassie Austen took over my job. I am now legally required to produce five novels within the next five years."
Darcy grinned at Lisa. "You must be very proud."
She caught his eye and they exchanged an expressive smile. Unlike earlier that day, however, Caroline noticed this one, and everyone at the table saw her stare jealously at the couple.
"I am, thank you," she said, and her smile showed it. She turned to Jane. "Mom is proud."
Jane gave Lisa another blissful smile. "Really?"
"Yeah."
Fitzwilliam Darcy was the only other person at the table who knew the full import of Lisa's comment about her mother. He continued, under the seething glare of Caroline Bingley, to pay her every attention, to gaze at her beautiful face and marvel that he had another chance with her. His heart swelled with joy as he realized her new employment meant that there was little holding her in Wisconsin. He brushed his hand against the pocket of his jeans, feeling the ring still there, and promised himself that he would waste no more time.
Later, when Anne and the colonel arrived, Georgiana and her cousins asked Lisa if she would be so inclined as to join them outside to throw around the football. She smiled widely. "Sure," she said, grateful of a break in the rain. "It'll be a little muddy, but I don't mind if you don't."
"The gardener might mind a little, but Georgiana has him wound so tightly around her little finger, she gets away with anything," piped the colonel.
Lisa grinned. "Oh, I can't imagine anyone getting wrapped around Georgiana's finger, least of all her older brother." She smiled demurely at Darcy and rose from her chair.
Georgiana, Anne, Fitzwilliam, Bingley, Darcy, and Lisa all engaged themselves outside on the muddy lawn for a good, wet game of football, Lisa trying to explain through her laughter the rules of such a game. Often the colonel or Darcy would stand up straight, in the middle of a play with ball in hand, to object to the rules, only to be promptly tackled by either Lisa, Anne, or Georgiana, who were having the greatest fun pouncing on their male relations.
Jane was content to sit and watch them, laughing and smiling, exchanging a muddy kiss with her husband when he came over to make sure she was all right not being able to play. She had always loved playing football with Lisa when she managed to arrange a game, but with the baby, she wasn't willing to risk such a physical activity.
Caroline had also declined joining the game, claiming that she should sit by her sister-in-law and keep her company. Truthfully, she only ever spoke to Jane when Bingley or Darcy would come by, or when the players were within earshot.
Mrs. Reynolds had watched again, her dismay at the mess she would have to clean up hidden by the happy smile on her face. It had been a long time since Mr. Darcy was so lively, and she had to believe it had everything to do with Elizabeth Bennet. If Mr. Darcy played his cards right, soon there would be more constant messes to clean up due to more lively guests and more football games, and then, hopefully, due to the pitter-patter of little feet . . . none of which she would mind at all. She loved Fitzwilliam and Georgiana like they were her own, and seeing them so happy was an answer to her prayers.
"It was an unfair call," declared a loud voice from one of the rear entrances to the house.
"Look, Bingey, you dropped it. The ball hit the ground," countered another voice, one which she would always be happy to hear. She walked to the source of the noise and found six very wet, very muddy, very happy football players, accompanied by Jane and Caroline. "The ref made the right call."
"The ref was biased," protested Darcy, referring to Jane, "on the side of her female cohorts."
The hall exploded into playful yelling, and Mrs. Reynolds smiled and watched for a minute, thoroughly enjoying the warmth and life that had been breathed back into Pemberley, before she interrupted. "All right now, that's enough. Let's get out of your wet things."
Darcy looked over at Mrs. Reynolds' smile. "Very well. There will simply have to be a rematch." This was met with agreement on both sides.
Georgiana turned to the guests. "Fitz and I will have some things you can change into," she said, gesturing up the stairs, and everyone followed to change their wet clothes.
They met again in the drawing room, where Jane and Caroline were silently waiting them. Darcy noted his watch. "Oh, my, it is getting late. Perhaps you should stay, Charles?"
Bingley looked at Jane. "Would it be okay, do you think, love?" he asked. "It is not a long drive, if you would rather return home."
Jane blushed and smiled. "No, we can stay. I packed a few things in a small case, just in case this should have come up."
"Ah, how convenient," said Lisa with a roll of her eyes. "Chuck. Keys." She held out her hands to catch them.
He returned her look and threw them to her. "Trunk," he said.
She nodded. Darcy stood and followed her out of the drawing room. "Lisa," he said, catching up to her, "please, allow me to carry the case for you."
Lisa threw a smile over her shoulder at him. "That's sweet, Fitz, but Jane's the pregnant one, not me. I'm sure it only weighs about ten pounds."
"I am trying to be a gentleman and a proper host," he said with mock impatience. She stopped and turned around; he stepped towards her until he was mere inches from her. She brushed her hand with his. "Thank you," he whispered as he felt the keys touch his fingers.
"What's--" Lisa rumpled her brow, and looked down to see what he had put in her hand in place of Bingley's car keys. She looked up at him, and for some unknown reason, her eyes filled with tears. "This again?"
He stuffed the keys in his pockets and slipped the ruby on her finger. "Do not cry," he said, brushing one of the tears from her cheek as it fell. "Please do not cry."
She started to pull the ring off her finger. "Fitz, I can't."
He firmly wrapped his hands around hers, preventing them from moving further. "If you tell me you do not want it, I will put it away and save it for Georgiana. I will never bring up the subject again." She let out a breath, looking up into his deep, gorgeous eyes. "No, I do . . ." It wasn't the ring she wanted, it was what came with the ring, and that was his love. She wanted it desperately.
He let go of her hands. "Please take it, then. You know what it means to me."
She nodded and sniffled. "Look, I . . . I know . . . I'm sorry . . ."
He took one more small step toward her, putting his hand flush on her cheek. "You should not be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for." He felt the heat on her face and watched as her chest heaved up and down.
"But I do," she replied, looking up at him, her heart pounding. "I . . . never wanted to give this back to you," she said breathlessly, and she could feel her face getting hotter. She felt his hand on her hip. "I wanted so much to believe you loved me, but I didn't . . . I couldn't until you were gone."
"And now you finally believe that I love you?"
She nodded, another tear spilling onto her cheek. "Yes, I do."
He let out a breath, and a smile played with his lips, and he moved his hand down her face, tracing her jawbone with his thumb, and caressed the soft skin of her neck, pulling her closer as he bent his head, and slowly, gently touched her lips with his own. She softly gasped, and put her hands on his chest, and he wrapped her in his arms, letting all of the passion and love he hadn't let himself even think about for the past months envelop him. Their lips touched again, his movements fluid, and she melted against him as their kiss grew deeper. He broke the kiss, and pulled back. "I will have to thank Charles for forgetting that I was in Lambton and not London," he said with a grin.
She returned his smile. "Let's get that conveniently packed case from Chuckie's trunk, shall we?" She ran her tongue over her lips as they tingled, trying to stifle her urge to kiss him again.
He took her hand and they stepped outside to fulfill their task.
Later that night, Lisa stood at the window of her guest bedroom at Pemberley House. The place was enormous, but it was a home . . . it was his home. Stepping inside that morning, taking her hat off and giving it to Mrs. Reynolds, who seemed to watch her with a lot of amusement and affection, she felt its history. She wondered how old the place was, and if it had always been a Darcy home. It had at least always been his home, of that she was sure.
She crawled up on the window seat and pulled her knees to her chest, sighing to herself at the lovely view of one of gardens. Jane was so happy, even being as far away from her family as she was. Bingley was such a gentleman and obviously adored her; if she loved him as much, how could she not be, especially with their first child on the way? Jane was lucky. Lucky to have Bingley, sure, but mostly she was lucky to have such a pleasant disposition. If I were half as even-tempered as Jane, Fitz would know that I love him, too . . . why can't I just tell him? Christ, Lisa, just tell him! Tell him that you would do anything for him, if he asked again . . . tell him you want to marry him.
Lisa did so want to marry him. A few days after she had written her e-mail to him, she went back and re-read it, cursing herself for being so impersonal, asking herself why she didn't beg for a return message, why she had written that she was "truly sorry things didn't work out," or why she had said, "I have too much pride and excess baggage for a healthy relationship." If that had been true at the time she wrote it, it wasn't any more. The loneliness she had been left with after Jane's departure had made her re-evaluate her relationships with her parents and other sisters. Her relationship with Lydia was most changed, as they had both cause to re-think their former perspectives. Lisa had been with Lydia when Cheyenne was born, and Lydia, grateful for Lisa's support and coolness in the delivery room, even though she had never seen a baby born before, gave her daughter Lisa's true first name as her middle one. Lisa baby-sat whenever she could for Lydia, who was sometimes busy with her night classes.
Now, if only Mr. Dorky could see this. If only she could show him that she wasn't so guarded anymore, that she could let somebody love her . . . that she wanted his love, and that she wanted to give it back. You have another chance, you moron, she told herself. You have another chance with him. Don't blow it!
Sighing again, she rose and noticed her watch, which read ten forty. She pulled on her jeans and her leather fringed jacket. Well, if I can't sleep, I may as well go outside while it's not raining. She crawled down the stairs quietly, searching for a door to the outside. She found it, and stepped out, smiling as she saw the moon glow through the clouds and subtly light which ever yard she might be walking in.
Darcy sat up straight in bed, frustrated with his sleeplessness. With Lisa Bennet just down the hall from him, how could he sleep? He tingled all over with the memory of their bodies pressed up against each other in the front hall, his lips on hers, her hands on his chest. She was so beautiful . . . he wanted so much to help her see that. If he could just take her in his arms and love her . . . like he had wanted to that first day, seeing her in her jeans and boots, quietly sneaking into his meeting.
With a groan of frustration, he threw off his covers and put his feet on the floor. He noticed the clock on his bedside table, which read twelve fifty-five. Well, if I can't sleep, I may as well go out to the stable and take one of the horses out, perhaps Thunder. He pulled on a pair of jeans, a tee-shirt, and his riding boots, and headed down stairs.
The rain had started again, and though he had cursed the blasted weather earlier that day, he welcomed it now, as it helped him cool off a bit. He headed across the lawn quickly, but stopped as he noticed something lying in the grass. He rumpled his brow as it wasn't like the gardener to leave things lying about, and turned to investigate. As he got closer, he realized it wasn't a thing but a person lying face down in the grass. With a gulp he darted across the lawn and dropped to his knees beside the lifeless form. He turned the person over, and his heart stopped as he saw Lisa Bennet's wet face.
"Dear God," he breathed, and he could feel the blood draining from his face. Effortlessly, he picked her up and bolted for the house.