Beginning, Previous Section, Section III
Jump to new as of February 28, 2001
Jump to new as of March 6, 2001
This chapter is rated PG-13.
The sun was just peeking over the hillsides on the far eastern side of the island, bathing everything in that most pure and holy of daylight. Sunlight at dawn was always his favorite kind of sunlight, but he'd missed it these past few months because of countless bottles of Red Stripe. This morning, though, it drenched everything it touched in that orange-gold light.
It hadn't reached them yet in the secluded alcove. He could see it teasing the treetops just a mile away. This quiet, holy moment brought him the peace that he'd hoped to find here when he ran from her. Now he knew that the peace would only come when he was with her, loving her, touching her. Elizabeth was the calm of his soul. To live without her now would be impossible.
Darcy gazed down upon her still sleeping form. The blanket beneath her was a dark wine color and made her pale skin look like spilled milk. Her back was exposed as she lie on her stomach, arms tucked under her chest like a child. Her chestnut curls swirled in every direction like leaves eddying on a windy day. She had somehow managed to kick the other blanket away from her legs so that only her bottom was covered.
He smiled at that and realized that his arm, Elizabeth's pillow, was asleep. It hadn't reaching the pins-and-needles point yet, but it had the potential. A grimace played over his countenance as he thought of that horrid feeling.
The air smelled of salt and high tide had come in at some point for the sea seemed much closer to them than it had last night. Granted, there hadn't been much attention paid to the crashing surf and spray during the evening for their minds had been more agreeably engaged. The sun was bouncing off the higher waves that were further out and Darcy watched it to take his mind off the numbness in his arm. He wouldn't disturb her sleep for all the asleep arms in the world.
Elizabeth stirred and whimpered. Worried, Darcy cast a glance down at her. Her bottom lip quivered as if she were going to burst into tears. In an instant, he was stroking the side of her face, brushing the wild curls away from her cheeks and forehead. Anything to let her know that he was there and she was not alone.
Brown eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze. She lifted her head slightly, turned it, and placed a gentle kiss on her "pillow." He shook his head, preparing himself for the terrible sensation that was to come.
"Good morning, Bess," said Darcy, hoping to distract himself.
"Good morning, Bill," was her reply. Her voice was husky and thick with sleep. She turned over on her back, pulling the covers up in faux modesty. "I know you've seen it all, but I am actually a bit chilly."
Arms wrapped around her and pulled her to his body, which seemed only slightly less warm than the sun itself. Elizabeth snuggled into the warmth as she pulled the blanket up to cover her breasts. She felt completely safe and at home inside his embrace. When he absently started to play with her hair Elizabeth nearly melted.
"Sleep well?" Elizabeth asked.
"Perhaps I would have if you hadn't scooped sand at me," he replied pointedly.
"I did not!"
"All right. You didn't. I'll just be washing sand out of my hair and various other parts of my body for the next few months."
Elizabeth felt an eyebrow crawl up of its own accord. Just because they were in love, just because they were soulmates, just because they had made love on this beach did not mean that the sparring would cease. She knew that it would be a fundamental part of their relationship. They would argue and appear to not get along at all. But, even the most stalwart disbeliever would have to admit that Elizabeth and Darcy belonged with one another.
"Oh, dear, Bill. I just thought of something quite dire!" She exclaimed. She sat up, taking most of the blanket with her.
"What? The candles? I didn't blow any of them out when I left last night. I hope there is still a Tally de Gah to go back to."
She turned to face him as if he were speaking another language. "What? I had a maid put them out last night after you left. The candles were never a hazard. Anyway, that isn't what I'm thinking."
"Then what is it?"
"What are you going to tell poor Caroline Bingley?" Elizabeth's voice was somber but her eyes were full of humour and her mouth twitched with a smile that longed to run about wildly on her face.
"Bess, you are a wicked, wicked girl!" Darcy exclaimed shock. "And I think that deserves a harsh punishment."
Ducking his dodge for her body, Elizabeth rolled away from him, grabbing her nightgown in the process. She tossed the blanket at him.
"You, sir, have had enough fun and games for one night. I suggest that we get back to the your hotel room before the islanders awake and start milling about. I don't want to have to explain that I forgot to put a dress over my slip and that you didn't know you couldn't swim in silk boxers."
In one smooth movement, her body was covered once again with the lavender silk. She began to gather the bits of evidence of their midnight rendezvous. Ignoring him while he pouted and deftly avoiding his attempts to ambush her, Elizabeth finished packing things away.
"If you carry this back to the room, my love, I will do everything I can to remove that sand from all those hard to reach places."
Before Elizabeth could blink an eye, Darcy was heading down the path back to the Tally de Gah.
Jane glowered at the window that announced another day was breaking over the island. The sun spilled into her easterly-facing window with a cheeriness that should have been illegal in all parts of the world except perhaps Los Angeles where perky people went to die.
Lying on her back, Jane turned her head to see Charles next to her. For the briefest of moments, Jane hated him for coming back to her and making her love him all over again. She wanted to trust him. Indeed, there was something intrinsic about trust with him. She couldn't not trust him, but there was the smallest part of her that wanted to. The smallest part that didn't want to forgive his trespasses against her. And it was that tiny part of Jane that hated Charles.
They had fallen asleep talking. Jane wasn't ready to allow him back into her bed again. She was amazed by how fast Elizabeth had given in to Darcy. And their history had never been as intimate as the one she shared with Charles.
With a grumpy sigh, Jane got out of bed. She went out into the parlor where there was a counter set up, pretending to be a kitchenette. She punched a button on the coffee pot, waiting for the brew to commence.
Years ago, Elizabeth had convinced her to prepare the coffee filter and coffee pot tank the night before to cut down on brew time in the morning. Only after Jane had her coffee was Elizabeth convinced that her sister was human. This was something that Charles had also learned.
Millions of questions and thoughts raced through Jane's head as she thought about Charles' proposal. She was sure that she wanted to marry him. She still loved him, regardless of that tiny nagging doubt. The doubt would have to be confronted at some point. She wouldn't allow it to fester. That would destroy the love she did have for him.
Mostly, however, Jane thought about what marrying Charles would mean. She would be a wife. She would be a sister-in-law to those dreadful women. She would eventually be a mother. Marrying Charles would change her identity completely. Jane would go from being Jane Bennet to being Jane Bingley. For the first time Jane thought about marriage as something that changed more than her last name.
Rich, dark coffee aroma wafted through the air, tickling away the serious thoughts that clouded her head. She poured a cuppajoe, as Lydia had called it since she was very small after hearing it on an American television show. It was Jane's favorite coffee term.
The first sip was always the best. She liked to way that, if you weren't careful, the liquid could scald you. She always took that first sip very slowly, savoring it while avoiding serious injury. The coffee slipped down her throat, filling her with warmth and, Elizabeth said, life. Even after one sip, Jane was nearly restored to pleasantness.
She heard Charles stirring in the bedroom and made a note to thank Darcy for bringing him here. Regardless of her doubts, Jane was certain that she would be his wife and he would be her husband. She settled onto the couch with a book in her hand to await Charles, who was never very sociable before his cuppajoe either.
Drew Fitzwilliam felt sunlight on his face before he saw it. It was that pleasant warmth that one receives when standing under a perfect blue sky on a late spring day. He let the sensation warm his handsome features for several minutes to chase away the unhappy dreams he'd had during the night.
Visions of himself, old and lonely, had permeated his dreams and given him over to wretched fits in the blackness of the night. When he'd finally managed to chase away the nightmares, the clock on the bedside table boldly declared that his sleep would begin at 4:18 am.
He opened his blue-green eyes. Now it announced that it was shortly after ten o'clock. Drew was never one to sleep late. It always made him feel as though he'd wasted a day if he slept past 8:30. Georgiana had once asked him to seek help for what was so obviously an ailment, but he refused.
He heard movement and blinked the sleep away. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dim glare coming through the gauzy beige drapes. Quickly, he pulled himself out of bed, pulling a tee shirt on over his bare chest and grappling with the waistband of his mussed pajama bottoms. He crossed the room in three strides and opened the door.
The aroma of a griddle smacked at his nose the moment he entered the hallway. Drew padded up the short, narrow corridor to the open, airy parlor, noticing the pretty bedroom next to his for the first time. White lace and cherrywood and a trace of sandalwood in the air. The daughter's room.
Noises were echoing through the tiny house from the kitchen. Following the advice of his nose and ears, Drew made his way to the kitchen to find a pretty girl the color of coffee with cream standing over the griddle.
Virginia looked up from her preparations and gave him a warm smile.
"Good morning, Mr. Fitzwilliam," she said, brightly. "I'm Virginia Blackchurch."
He chuckled. "No need for such propriety, Miss Blackchurch. I'm not my cousin. Duty and honor do not abound by any means. In fact, if you call me Drew, I'll return the favor."
"And call me Drew? That would hardly seem appropriate." A crooked grin spread over her face. "Virginia is fine." She expertly flipped a pancake then bent to pull a plate from the cupboard.
"A wiseguy, eh? The only thing worse than being locked up with a wiseguy is being trapped in a ski lodge with a broken leg and Caroline Bingley."
"A unhappy malady indeed, although I've only heard the name. I don not know Mrs. Bingley."
"Miss Bingley," Drew corrected. "She never lets a single man of good fortune forget that fact either."
Virginia slid two pancakes onto the plate. "Best to butter it now." She pointed to a glob that looked to be real, fresh butter that sat on a small saucer. "It's unfortunate that she feels she needs a man to define her."
"Oh, Virginia! You give Caroline too much credit! It isn't the man that defines Caroline Bingley. It's the fortune."
She shook her head in pity and, in one practiced, smooth motion, settled the rest of the pancakes on Drew's readied two. Exchanging her full apron for the pocketed half one that she wore in the tavern, Virginia waved toward the coffee maker.
"The coffee is ready to brew, just flip the switch. There is milk and orange juice in the refrigerator. I wasn't sure how you ate your syrup so I warmed a little bit in this pan. There is a room temperature bottle on the table if you don't care for it warm."
Drew stared at her, his eyes wide. She checked her pocket for her favorite pen then made a quick scan of the kitchen when she found it wasn't there. She spotted it by the grocery list that she was making for a trip to the main island market. When she glanced back to Drew to ask if he needed anything else, her hand flew to her nose. The way he looked at her made her fear that something traumatic was hanging from her nose.
"What?"
"That's amazing."
"What's amazing?" Asked Virginia, still brushing her nose.
"A bowl of cold cereal would have been fine, but you went all out. You don't even know me and you have shown me more kindness in the last fifteen minutes than some people I have known my whole life."
"You are a friend of Mr. D.'s. That's good enough for me and Pop. I'll see you later. Have a good day, Drew."
"You aren't staying?"
"No. I have to get back to the tavern. I just wanted to make sure that the nightmares you had last night didn't drive you mad. Good-bye now." Virginia slipped out of the back door, pulling a floppy straw hat onto her head.
Drew sat gaping from behind his stack of pancakes and warmed syrup and thought about buying the island.
Epilogue
"Jane, you can't be serious," Elizabeth exclaimed. "You love Charles."
"But, Lizzy, regardless of how much I love him, and I do, I can't marry him until I'm certain that I can trust him completely."
Elizabeth checked her hair in the mirror. When Darcy had told her that her surprise had been a reunion between Jane and Charles she been ecstatic. Not only for Jane, but she was selfishly motivated as well. With Jane and Charles back together she was free to love Darcy without feeling as though she were betraying Jane.
"I suppose I can understand that. So have you told Charles that he must prove himself to you?"
Her sister gave a short nod.
"And?" Elizabeth prompted.
"He'll do whatever it takes."
Elizabeth smiled. "Janey, that's wonderful." She turned away from the mirror and held herself out to display for her big sister. "How do I look?"
Her hair was pulled back on the sides and hung loose and full in the back. Daisies were gathered at the clip that secured the style. She was wearing a mere slip of a dress that was pretending to be a pale shade of coral. Her feet were bare.
"Breathtaking." Jane stood and hugged her sister. "I've never seen a more beautiful bride."
Her breath caught in her throat. A bride. "I'm marrying him today, Jane. In just a few minutes."
The sisters joined hands. "well, then," said Jane, "let's have it. Let's go get you married and make an honest woman of you."
Silently, walking hand in hand, Jane Bennet led her baby sister to the beach. The sun had set and tiki torches had been lit all over the island, but the beach was nearly deserted except for a small party that stood off to the side near a lonely looking beach chair. This was their destination.
Rick, Virginia, Drew, and Charles stood off to the left side of the minister, Reverend Blake, who owed Rick a favor. Darcy stood there in his linen suit and, at Elizabeth's insistence, in the straw fedora. She beamed when she saw him.
"You look like a villain in a James Bond movie," she whispered, though everybody heard her anyway.
"Shall we begin?" Blake asked.
The couple nodded.
"Who gives this woman?"
"I do on behalf of my family," Jane said, releasing Elizabeth's hand and pushing her towards Darcy.
Reverend Blake offered up a prayer then announced that Darcy and Elizabeth had decided to pledge their own vows to one another. "Elizabeth?" He said, taking a step back to put attention on the couple.
"I was a fool not to love you from the first moment I saw you. I spent so much time thinking of reasons to dislike you that I didn't realize that without thinking about it I had grown to love you.
"In the last few days we've had to deal with more things than most people get thrown at them in a lifetime. But those were the last set of tests, our last bit of proving ourselves worthy to what Fate had in store for us. I came half-way around the world and found you where I landed. A girl doesn't have to be a genius to get the hint that Fate has been trying to give her," she paused, taking his hand, and slipped the platinum band that she'd bought just two hours before off of her thumb.
"People are going to say that we're crazy. Let them. We both know that this couldn't be anymore sane.
"I know that I love you and that I always have. I was born to love you, born to kiss you, and hold you. I was born to walk with you in gardens and to fall asleep in your arms.
"From this moment on, my love, I will be your wife."
She pushed the band onto his finger then looked into his eyes as the tears spilled out of hers.
"My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. When you're near me I can think of nothing else. Loving you steals my breath, quickens my heart, and quiets my brain. You are the piece of my soul that I was born without. I need you like I need air to breathe, like I need water to drink, like I need them both to survive.
"I thought I could escape needing you so, but to run from you is like trying to outrun the speed of light. So I vow here to not run anymore and stay still.
"You have given me the courage to be who I am and to be comfortable within my own skin. You have allowed me to trust you because you love me in spite of yourself."
She smiled and his heart caught fire. He took her ring from his pocket and slid the sapphire and diamond platinum ring onto her finger. Plain diamonds would never do for she was richer and more vibrant than that. Sapphires were brilliant and mysterious and a source of constant amazement, just like Elizabeth.
"From this moment on, my love, I will be your husband."
Revered Blake stepped forward and turned the couple to the company. "Ladies and gentleman, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. Well, man, go on! Kiss your bride."
Darcy did.