Page 17 of Body and Soul (Darcy and Elizabeth Variations #8)

Chapter Seventeen

December 24, 1811 Longbourn Fanny

T he snow crunched under her boots as she walked through the trees. It was Christmas Eve and time to decorate Longbourn for the festive season. Fanny could not remember the last time she had partaken in the activity. Her old bones protested traipsing through the trees in the midst of winter.

Her husband walked beside her, holding a basket for holly, ivy, and mistletoe. He had said little since they set out and she thought he seemed rather nervous. “There! I see some!” she cried, pointing to mistletoe hanging from a tree. She immediately began to climb on a lower branch. It was just out of reach and the obliging limb put the plant in her grasp.

“Have a care, Fanny!” Thomas’s hand came to her back, steadying her as she climbed down. “You will break your neck!”

“You mean I will break Elizabeth’s neck?” She chuckled nervously. How often she had fallen to humor to ease tension or disguise her unease! It was very like Elizabeth, and a habit she meant to keep when she became Mrs. Bennet again.

“As you like it,” he grunted. “Look, here is some holly.” They gathered silently for a time. She wondered what he was thinking. The hostility that had existed between them seemed to have gone. In the first days after Mr. Bennet and Mr. Darcy swapped bodies, he had avoided her. Then he had made a paltry effort. It was only in the last few days that her husband seemed genuinely interested in mending their broken marriage.

He handed her a knife, which she used to cut a few pine boughs. Arms full of them, she turned and placed them on a little sledge they had found in Longbourn’s stable.

“What happened to us?” he suddenly blurted. “You were so vivacious, so calm and so happy. And then with each year that passed, you grew more erratic, irritable, and…different.”

Fanny paused. “I hardly know where it began,” she admitted. “After Mary, I was so lost. Everything took on shades of gray and black. I could not find happiness. And then you started mocking me. I may not be intelligent enough to understand all your jokes, but I know when I am being insulted. I no longer felt your love. Instead, I received only derision, disdain, and disregard. You wish to know what changed? I felt like I had become a disappointment in your eyes, for I could not give you a son to ensure your legacy, and so I became less than nothing to you. And then I felt like little more than a vessel for begetting heirs…” she shook her head. “I turned to material things, hoping that I could attract you once again.”

Thomas huffed. “If you are so concerned with the future, why do you spend as though we had the funds? You serve lavish dinners and entertain regularly. The girls do not wear second-hand gowns. You protested whenever I tried to correct behavior, claiming you knew more about raising a girl than I. I felt as though you had only married me for my estate. It was the worst sort of deception, and I resented you for it. After a time, it was easier to not try.”

Whirling to face him, Fanny hit his chest with her fists. He stumbled back, the contents of his basket tumbling into the snow. “I married you because I loved you!” she cried. “I loved your quiet nature that so perfectly balanced my own more vibrant manner. And I loved listening to you talk about books even when I did not understand. I loved when you tried to teach me new things, even though I am a slow learner. And you loved me exactly how I was, imperfect looks and all. No other man ever treated me the same way. My father thought my only use was to keep house. And as for the spending… it made me feel alive. As I said, at first, I bought new things hoping to attract your attention. I tossed aside the consequences just to feel pretty. And then the girls… well, by then there was no hope of dowries or a son. I dressed them as finely as I could to attract a man. Yet Jane, our prettiest daughter, reached two-and-twenty with no husband.”

Thomas spluttered. “Jane will marry Mr. Bingley!” he cried.

Sighing sadly, Fanny bent to pick up the scattered greenery. Her husband crouched down to help her. “It almost did not happen,” she said dismally. In quiet words, she explained everything from Miss Bingley’s letter to her own revelations. “So, you see, I was almost the cause of destroying the happiness of a most beloved daughter. Elizabeth and I have worked very hard to improve ourselves.”

“I see more of the Fanny I married now than I have in years,” he admitted. “I have hardly known where to begin—I have missed you.”

“Have you? I never would have guessed.” She sounded bitter, but she did not care. There were years of hurt pressing down upon her.

“I have much to atone for,” he said humbly. “All I ask is that you let me try. We, both of us, have made mistakes, and I admit, my sins are far greater than yours. I have until recently been determined to think I did nothing wrong, that my actions were not what damaged our relationship. But I have lately come to realize that I hold the lion’s share of the blame. I did wrong by you in so many ways, and you have every right not to forgive me. I promise you I shall go to my grave earning your forgiveness.”

Tears filled her eyes, and she turned to look at him. “How can I trust you?” she whispered. If I let myself hope—if I let down the walls I have erected around my heart, I risk being shattered once more by your disrespect and indifference. I cannot bear it any longer, Thomas.” Fanny wiped her eyes and reached into her pocket for a handkerchief.

Thomas knelt at her feet, setting the basket aside. He took her hand and kissed it. “I solemnly promise, my dear Fanny, that I shall do everything in my power to become the husband you deserve. I shall treat you as a queen, showering you with gold and diamonds, if that is your desire.”

“I do not want gold and diamonds,” she said shyly. “I have only ever wanted you.”

“And you will have me.” Standing, he kissed her cheek.

And so, Mr. and Mrs. Bennet’s second courtship began in earnest. Thanks to the Darcy fortune, Mr. Bennet was able to spoil his wife as he never had. Sweets came from London and they enjoyed them together in front of Longbourn’s fire. And though she appreciated the delectable morsels, it was the gift of his time that Fanny truly adored. He followed her around the house with an armful of greenery, handing her bits and pieces as she arranged them on the mantle, the banister, and the middle of the table.

It was with a heavy heart and more than a few regrets that her dear Thomas departed that evening. He and Mr. Bingley promised the family they would return for breakfast. Mrs. Bingley bemoaned waking early, but agreed to attend as well. Fanny stood at Longbourn’s door, watching until the Bingley carriage rounded the bend and moved out of sight.

“It is hard seeing him go,” she said to Jane.

“I understand completely,” her eldest daughter said. “Lizzy, if he proposes, we must have a double wedding as we have always planned!” Jane took her hand, excitement spreading across her face.

Fanny had never known about that, but she liked the idea very well. Such a grand affair it would be, planning two weddings. “Yes, that sounds lovely!” she agreed. “Shall we tell Mama?” They giggled and hugged. “I am very happy for you, dear Jane!” she said fervently.

“And I feel the same for you. Who would have thought that Mr. Darcy could be an amiable and attentive man?”

“Who would have thought, indeed?” Fanny smiled. She already missed Thomas. It seemed a little foolhardy to open her heart so readily, but she could not resist. Never had she stopped loving him, and she was more than ready to return to the happiness she thought was long lost.

Yet another trait I share with Lizzy, she mused. I wish to think on the past only as its remembrance brings pleasure. I do so hate dwelling on unfortunate or depressing things.

Her late night discussions with Elizabeth had not ceased. Fanny continued them, if only to ensure her daughter and Mr. Darcy behaved themselves. She ought not to have worried—she knew him to be an honorable man. Yet, they were both human and prone to mistakes, and she did not wish to take any chances.

Tapping lightly on the door before entering, she pushed it open and entered her chambers. Once more, she glanced longingly at the bed before making her way to Elizabeth’s side.

“The house looks very festive,” she remarked, sitting next to her daughter.

“It does. You all did very well. And Darcy and I found a yule log.” Elizabeth grinned, setting aside the book she had been reading. “You seem much happier. Tell me, is Papa making an effort at last?”

Fanny’s cheeks went pink. “Yes, I think so. Am I a fool for forgiving him so readily?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “You have had a long time to mull over your feelings and come to terms with them. Perhaps you did not need any longer.”

She nodded. “I confess that being you helped. I could distance myself from your father and process things better. It made me ready to move on, I think. What about you?”

“Do you mean to ask if I have forgiven him? I know not. He hurt you—and me by extension. The father I imagined I had existed only in my mind.”

“He will be better than ever now,” Fanny said happily. “You wait and see.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I am not so quick to forgive—I worry the relationship I had with my father is forever altered. I must reconcile the man he now is with the man he was and the man I thought him to be. It feels like an impossible task.”

“Why not create something new with him?” Fanny asked insightfully. “You do not need to have precisely what you did. I do not believe my marriage will resemble anything like what it was when we first married, for we are not the same as we were then. Trials and tribulations have shaped us both. I think what we make of our life now will reflect that and be better than either of us could have envisioned.”

Elizabeth grinned. “When did you become so wise?” she asked.

Fanny laughed. “Perhaps you are rubbing off on me,” she teased. “That is not a bad thing. There are many characteristics that are wholly Elizabeth that I wish to adopt when we change back.”

“You mean if, do you not?” Elizabeth sighed and shook her head. “It has almost been a month.”

“The longest month of our lives, if we are being honest.” Fanny patted her hand sympathetically.

Suddenly, Elizabeth grew agitated. “How am I to live?” she blustered. “I wish to marry and have children of my own. Forgive me, Mama, but your daughters belong to you. They are not mine! Every night, I pray I will wake in my own bed and every morning I am still here. Is it strange that I feel jealous of you? You and Papa are getting a second chance at love. Your courtship should be mine.” Tears trickled down her cheeks.

Fanny reached out and hugged her daughter. “And so it will be,” she promised. “Your father has begun to see. It will not be long now.”

“What if the changes do not last?” Elizabeth sniffed, burying her face in her mother’s shoulder.

“I have considered that. I do not think we will change back until our reforms are a sure thing. Otherwise, you and I would be normal by now.”

Elizabeth nodded and pulled away. “We have repaired what was broken, have we not?”

“Yes, and now we must help your father finish the process.”

Elizabeth

Elizabeth bid her mother goodnight. She stayed by the fire for many hours after, staring into the flames and watching the wood burn to coals. Never one to give in to melancholy, she found it very difficult to cast away the gloom that hung around her. She felt stagnant.

Mr. Darcy was everything she wished for and more, yet they could not progress or move on to their future as they were. Part of her resented her father for resisting change, and part of her rejoiced that he finally seemed to be working toward improvement. Mama seemed to believe him to be genuine. Elizabeth felt less certain.

Whatever the case, she hoped that the changes her father worked toward would become permanent soon. She wished to stand up with Jane at her wedding. Perhaps they would even have the double wedding they imagined as children. She had overheard Jane telling Mama about it earlier.

Jane’s hopes of a proposal for Elizabeth would go unfulfilled as long as she remained trapped in Mrs. Bennet’s body. She had no doubt Darcy would offer his hand regardless, but she selfishly wished to see him on one knee before her , not her father offering his hand to the woman he had been married to for almost five-and-twenty years.

Perhaps I ought to accept my fate, she thought dismally. Mayhap I shall be Mrs. Bennet for the rest of my days.

Another voice inside her scolded her for being morose. “I shall be well,” she said aloud. “It cannot be much longer.” Tomorrow was Christmas, the season of hope. If a miracle were to happen, the festive season was the best time for it to occur.

She had acquired a present for Mr. Darcy and hoped to give it to him on the morrow. She did not know if his family practiced the tradition of gift giving, but she intended to take full advantage of the season so she might present him with a token of her affection. It was not much. She had cut a lock of her hair—her mother knew, of course—and had it fashioned into a watch fob. Whether he would appreciate it, she could not say, but she wished him to have some sign of her love that he could carry with him always.

In the early hours of the morning, she finally went to bed. She felt exhausted, but more settled. She knew the morning light would come too soon and force her from her bed.

At least the Gardiners are not here! she thought as she drifted off to sleep. They had remained in London due to family illness. Elizabeth was glad, for she did not feel equal to prevaricating when they inevitably began to ask questions.