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At some point, Jane and Elizabeth had retreated upstairs to prepare themselves and share some private words of farewell.

Darcy had found himself standing in a corner with Charles, who was even more ebullient than usual.

The two friends discussed their immediate travel plans; while Darcy and Elizabeth were for Kent, Bingley was following his dream to take Jane to Paris.

Darcy remained concerned for his friend; Napoleon might be confined to Saint Helena, but the Corsican had managed to escape Elba once and gather an army, so who was to say he might not accomplish the same feat again?

He had asked Colonel Fitzwilliam to speak frankly to the younger man about the realities of visiting France so soon after the war, but Charles would not be swayed.

He had grown up hearing the romantic story of his parents’ wedding trip through France and was determined that Jane would have no less.

Of course, the France of 1783 under the monarchy of twenty-nine year old Louis XVI and his Austrian bride, Marie Antoinette, was likely to be rather different than the New Republic barely three years after the defeat of Bonaparte at Waterloo.

However, Darcy had remained true to his vow to treat his friend as an equal and not attempt to manage his life.

In truth, he could not imagine wanting to spend a month traveling through foreign parts so soon after enduring weeks of wedding preparations.

Had Elizabeth desired it, no doubt he would have agreed, but in this as in so many other fundamentals, they had been in synchrony.

The newly minted Mr. and Mrs. Darcy would spend the next fortnight at a quiet manor on the Kentish seaside, with few servants and no society whatsoever.

After all the obligations of the last two months, they were both looking forward to quiet and solitude.

When Will had caught sight of Elizabeth re-entering the room with her sister, all thoughts of Bingley disappeared.

She was wearing one of her new gowns; a traveling dress in a rich mulberry that, though certainly designed for comfort during a long carriage ride, none-the-less also displayed Madame Lavoisier’s talent of designing clothes that flattered the female figure.

Darcy had felt himself develop a sudden tightness in his breeches and decided that it would be best if he took the time to refresh himself before escorting his lovely new wife to their carriage in front of all their family and friends.

“Fitzwilliam?”

The softness of the inquiry could not diminish his immediate reaction to such a beloved voice.

Darcy roused himself, opening his eyes to find himself in the carriage with Elizabeth still cuddled within his arms, but now her sparkling eyes were open and upon him.

“I apologize; I didn’t mean to fall asleep. ”

The notion that his current posture, back wedged into the corner and legs sprawled across the diagonal, was not tremendously dignified skittered across his consciousness, but he was too pleased by Elizabeth’s position against him to pay it any mind.

Some of her hair had worked free from its pins and he idly wrapped a springy curl around his finger.

“Please don’t apologize—I fear I’ve slept the entire trip away.”

“Ah, but I believe I had more sleep last night,” he teased.

After being unable to suppress several increasingly wide yawns during their first hour in the carriage, Elizabeth had finally admitted that she and Jane had slept little the previous night.

They had spent some time in whispered reassurances of their sisterly affections and hopes for the future, but the primary cause had rested with their mother, for Mrs. Bennet’s nerves had kept her bustling about until the wee hours of the morning.

Her husband had finally sent her to bed at half-past two when she had declared that Jane and Elizabeth must repack their trunks because she was certain that they had folded their dresses wrongly.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes but did not argue. Her nap had revived her, however, and soon she was looking out of the carriage windows. “Do you know where we are? The air seems different—is the sea close, perhaps?”

Darcy turned his gaze to the passing scenery.

“I believe we are quite close, in fact. Do you see the cliffs, just there?” He pointed out the east-facing window to where the land seemed to fall away and one could just make out the grey ocean beyond.

“In fact, I believe this may be the turn-off to Seacrest Manor coming up.”

His words proved prophetic when minutes later, the driver (well instructed on what to expect by the Viscount Hampden’s man) turned the coach off the main road and onto a well-kept lane.

Elizabeth looked out to the sea for a moment longer before turning her attention to repairing her hair. “I do hope that Jane and Charles have a safe crossing. They were both so eager to see Paris, though I cannot claim to be at all envious of their trip.”

Darcy smiled, pleased to have his earlier thoughts confirmed. “You don’t have an envious bone in your body, my dear.”

Tucking the last pin in place, Elizabeth turned an impish look upon him.

“Oh, I fear you shall be quite shocked when you become better acquainted with all my faults, sir. For example, I spent many years wildly jealous of Jane’s golden hair when we were girls.

Mine was born fair as well, you see, and it only turned dark when I was five or so.

It was a grave disappointment to my mother; she had hoped that all her daughters would inherit her looks, you see. ”

Sensing a deep wound that had never quite healed, Fitzwilliam pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “I adore your hair, your eyes, and everything else about you, and would not trade you for all the blondes in the world.”

Elizabeth grinned up at him. “Then it’s lucky that Mrs. Hill caught me before I could apply that hair potion I acquired from the traveling tinker and smuggled into the bath room.”

Will’s eyebrows rose, but before he could ask for further details, the carriage rolled to a halt before a lovely, old, stone house covered with ivy.

Without waiting for the footman, Darcy jumped down and assisted his bride out himself.

They stood for a moment on the drive as she brushed some wrinkles out of her skirts and he surveyed the landscape around them.

Their attention was drawn back to the house when a pair of elderly servants appeared .

“And would you be Mr. Darcy, sir?” Once Fitzwilliam agreed that he was indeed the gentleman they were expecting, and received their names in turn (Mr. and Mrs. Burke), Elizabeth eyed the couple, liking them immediately.

The butler was tall and serious in his greetings, but his wife soon took over the conversation in what appeared to be their habitual manner.

“Your servants arrived several hours ago, sir, and your rooms are set up just as you requested. Dinner can be served now or later, as you like… perhaps you wish for baths first to wash off the road dust?”

Darcy’s stomach rumbled loudly in protest. While the servants struggled to keep their expressions impassive, Elizabeth burst into peals of laughter. “Well! That certainly answers that question!”

When Fitzwilliam shot a mildly embarrassed look at her, she merely patted his arm and then encouraged them all to enter the house.

“Perhaps if you could have basins of hot water sent up, we might just wash our hands and faces for now. Then we could eat in a half hour; does that give the cook enough time to set everything in motion?”

The housekeeper quickly took the young bride’s measure and liked what she saw.

In no time at all, Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam, refreshed and dressed in clean clothes, were sitting down to a table of appetizing dishes.

They dismissed the servants, preferring the privacy of serving themselves, but before he left, Mr. Burke received permission to open the French doors along the east wall, allowing the evening breezes to swirl through the room.

Despite her teasing, Elizabeth found herself quite as famished as her husband, and for some time their conversation lagged but for comments praising the various dishes. It was not long, however, before her appetite was sated and Lizzy found herself drawn to the view from the open doors.

Fitzwilliam came to stand beside her and they admired the stone patio and the fresh sea air.

“I would suggest a walk, but I fear that between the lack of a moon and the unfamiliar terrain, we might wander off a cliff in the darkness and never be seen again,” he murmured, standing behind her and taking the liberty of running his hands up and down her arms.

“Ah, I can imagine the ghost stories already… bride and groom, star-crossed lovers, dying tragically on the very day of their wedding and doomed to haunt the cliffs forevermore…” She laughed and shivered dramatically, though the reaction was not entirely feigned.

Leaning back against her husband’s chest, she felt his arms slip around her waist.

Her husband.

“What a road we have traveled,” she murmured, and then caught her breath. She had not meant to speak those words aloud, not wanting to bring unhappy memories to the fore on such a joyful day.

Darcy, however, only tightened his arms around her and tucked her head below his chin. “Indeed,” he whispered, just as softly .

Mr. and Mrs. Darcy stood for some minutes, appreciating the evening and contemplating the oddities of fate; neither would have been much surprised to discover that their thoughts traced similar paths and touched on many of the same events, some filled with pain and others with joy.

Eventually, however, they were distracted from their reflections by the calling of the sea birds settling into their rocky nests for the night.

Elizabeth turned within the circle of his arms, lacing her hands behind his head. “Perhaps it is time to retire, my dear husband.”

For a moment Fitzwilliam appeared frozen, but then he broke into a broad smile.

“Your wish is my command, my dearest wife.” First though, he kissed her, long and passionately.

And then, Fitzwilliam Darcy reached down and lifted Elizabeth in his arms, kissing her pert nose even as she shrieked and demanded to be set down.

On the way up the stairs, Will called back over his shoulder to a bemused Mr. and Mrs. Burke, “Mrs. Darcy and I shall be retiring now… please see to it that we are not disturbed until we ring for you in the morning.”

Elizabeth hid her blushing face in his cravat but could not refrain from giggling.

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Continued in Book 3

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