Page 20 of Body and Soul (Darcy and Elizabeth Variations #8)

Chapter Twenty

December 26, 1811 Longbourn Elizabeth

E lizabeth blinked. Light poured in through a window, blinding her as she attempted to open her eyes. I could have sworn I pulled the drapes shut around the bed last night, she thought. Groaning, she sat up, only to realize something felt markedly different. Immediately, the cobwebs from her mind fled, and she opened her eyes the rest of the way.

The drawing room ? Had she slept-walked? Never having had the propensity to do so, she immediately dismissed it. She noticed her gown and realized she still wore the green gown her mother had worn the previous night. Gasping, she stood abruptly, turning to the settee where Mr. Darcy still dozed. His feet were on a footstool, and he had discarded his coat over the back of a chair. But was it Mr. Darcy or her father?

For a moment she stood there, frozen. Elizabeth flexed her fingers, marveling at how they did not ache. Her neck was sore, but that was likely because of sleeping on the settee all night instead of in her comfortable bed. Oh, how wonderful it felt to be back in her own body.

Creeping closer to the settee, she sat next to Mr. Darcy—or her father—she knew not, and lightly shook him. “Sir,” she said quietly. “Wake up.” She longed to know if the man was her beloved Fitzwilliam. She dearly hoped it was so.

The gentleman—whoever he was—did not stir immediately. Elizabeth sat back and admired him. He looked absolutely adorable in sleep. His dark curls were mussed and his face, usually stern, was completely relaxed. Reaching out, she touched a lock that fell over his forehead, brushing it aside.

“Elizabeth,” he murmured.

She knew in an instant that the sleeping man was Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth eagerly shook him, anxious to share their good fortune. “Fitzwilliam, wake up!” she cried, this time in a louder voice. “Wake up, my darling!”

He opened his eyes and looked around in confusion. “Mrs. Bennet?” he said.

“No, it is I! Elizabeth! Look at us, we have changed back!” She bounced excitedly, taking his hand.

Abruptly, he sat up and examined himself. “So, we have!” He drew her into his arms, laughing as he held her to his chest. “Oh, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! It is a miracle!” He released her, holding her back to look at her face. “You are here. We are here and ourselves. I could not have asked for anything more.”

“Shall we tell my mama and papa?” she asked.

“I think not. Let them discover it on their own.” He settled back into the settee, pulling her close. “We can enjoy the freedom of being able to have private discourse a little longer before they come down.”

Yes, at least until their marriage, their private interludes would be cut short. Elizabeth frowned in disappointment. “That is definitely a drawback to returning to ourselves,” she moaned. “We had best enjoy these moments whilst we can.”

He turned and kissed her head. “Before another moment passes,” he said, breaking away again and standing. He pulled her with him and then got down on one knee. “Dear Elizabeth, I love you—most ardently. Your vivacity, your wit, your compassion, and your kindness are all unparalleled. I wish to never be parted from you from this moment on. Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

Sighing happily, she nodded. Tears filled her eyes, and she tugged him to his feet. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she buried her face in his chest. “I love you very much,” she said, her words muffled against the fabric of his shirt.

“I am afraid I did not hear you, dearest,” he said teasingly.

She pulled away and looked up, smiling broadly. “I love you, dearest Fitzwilliam,” she said. “I cannot picture a life without you in it. You are an honorable, kind, affectionate, caring man. Once I thought you proud and haughty, but now I can see that you have no improper pride. I have much to look forward to as your wife, and I can hardly wait.”

Bending down, he captured her mouth with his own, tenderly caressing her lips until she went weak at the knees. “I like that very much,” she murmured as he pulled away. Reaching up, she cupped his cheek in her hand. “I think you must try that again so I can become used to the sensation.”

Happily, he complied, and they then returned to the settee, content to stay wrapped in each other’s arms until the rest of the household awoke.

As Darcy absently stroked her hair, a blue velvet jewelry box caught her eye. It was partially under the footstool, and she broke away to pick it up.

“That was your father’s gift to your mother,” Darcy said immediately. “He showed it to me.”

Curious, Elizabeth cracked open the box. Nestled inside was a delicate gold brooch. It looked as though someone had used gold to tat lace. “It is perfect for Mama,” she said approvingly. “Shall I sneak it into her chambers?”

“Certainly. If you wake her, it will only hasten her surprise.”

Elizabeth bade him to wait and crept from the room. Up the stairs she went and stealthily she crept into her mother’s bedchamber. She found the curtains drawn around the bed—just as she had left them the night before.Opening the box, she put it on the table beside the bed, knowing her mother would see it the moment she pushed aside the curtains. Satisfied with the arrangement, she left the room, closing the door carefully behind her.

Darcy awaited her in the hall. “We had best refresh ourselves,” he said. “No offense meant, my dear, but your gown is in a terrible state.”

Elizabeth looked down, grimacing at the wrinkled gown. “You remember where you were meant to sleep?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Nodding, he bowed his head and turned to depart. “I expect to see you in the drawing room, my love,” he said as he went. “I do not believe I am entirely ready to share you with others.”

“Then I shall hasten to change as quickly as I can manage,” she whispered back. She hurried to her chambers— her chambers—and worked to unbutton her green gown. It was difficult without help, but she managed. She draped the gown over the back of a chair. It would need to be pressed and cleaned for certain. Then she found a lovely rose gown with gold trim and donned it. Impressed that she had managed to do so without aid, she went to the mirror.

It was a strange feeling, seeing her own face in the glass after having seen another’s for a month. She touched her cheek, marveling at the smoothness. There were no lines around her eyes or mouth, and her dark hair glistened in the morning light. Giddy, she spun in a circle. “All is as it should be,” she said aloud to the empty room. Slipping her feet into slippers, she rushed out of the room, eager to be back in Fitzwilliam’s company.

He waited for her in the drawing room, having straightened his appearance and donned his coat. “You look fetching,” he said, smiling happily.

“Thank you, good sir,” she replied, dipping a curtsey. “I dressed with you in mind, I assure you.”

“I should hope that you picked your attire based on your preferences,” he replied seriously. “I find you lovely in whatever you wear.”

She laughed and took his hand, leading him back to the settee. “And if I wore a sack?” she asked.

He grinned. “I should still find you ravishing.” He touched her cheek and then quickly pecked her lips again.

“You are very good at compliments, sir.” She nestled into his arms. As she sighed deeply, someone upstairs shrieked loudly.

Fanny

Fanny knew something had changed the moment she entered consciousness. Her eyes were still closed, and the air felt heavy. Slowly, she opened her eyes. Everything around her was still black, and she reached out, groping around her. Touching the fabric, she tugged. Curtains slid aside and light poured into the bed where she sat.

Bed? I fell asleep in the drawing room. Did Thomas carry me to bed? She looked around, her eyes falling to the open jewelry case sitting on the bedside table. The wrong bedside table. She gasped and looked at her hands. Shrieking, she threw off the bedclothes and tumbled out of bed. Fanny went directly to the door connecting her room to her husband’s and paused. What if Thomas had not changed back? Hand hovering over the doorknob, she did not move.

The door opened. Thomas—or was it Mr. Darcy—stood there in his nightshirt. “Fanny?” he asked in a low voice.

“Thomas?” she replied hopefully.

He gave a cry of delight and took her in his arms, kissing her fervently. “Oh, my darling wife. It is you! And I am me!”

She choked out a little sob, clinging to him as if her life depended on it. “I never thought I would be so grateful for pain upon waking!” Indeed, she could feel her back and hips aching. Her hands, too, were sore as they often were.

“I completely agree. And I have not been another person for nearly as long as you.” He kissed her again. “Come, let us sit.” He led her to her settee. She sat, and he poked at the fire, encouraging the coals to glow hot and then ignite the wood he added. When he had a cheery blaze, he came and sat beside her, drawing her into his arms.

“Do you think Lizzy and Darcy know yet?” he murmured into her hair.

“I found the brooch here. I am certain they know.” She snuggled deeper into his embrace. “Should we interrupt them?”

Shaking his head, he said, “I think not. Let them have a few minutes alone. They will not have it again for some time. Besides, I wish to stay here with you for now.”

They fell silent, simply enjoying each other’s company. After a few minutes, she pulled away and turned to look at him. “This is real, is it not?”

“It is,” he vowed, kissing her nose. His expression turned serious, and he pulled away a little more. “Fanny,” he began uncertainly, “I wish to do something. I fear my knees will not allow me to kneel, but at this moment of renewal, of second chances, I wish to give you a proposal of sorts. Or maybe a vow would be a better word for it.”

“Go on,” she breathed, all anticipation.

“Dearest Frances, when we married so many years ago, I vowed to love you and care for you, and I fear I have not done either as I ought. I come to you now, a man thoroughly humbled and very much in love with you, asking for another chance. I vow to love and honor you, to be your companion, your beloved, and the husband you deserve. Most faithfully, I promise to hold your hand and be whatever you wish me to be.” He cleared his throat, his eyes looking suspiciously moist. “I do not deserve your forgiveness. Indeed, these last days of happiness are more than I ever hoped for. I will treasure the memory of them always, for it allowed me time to court you again. Please, allow me to carry on as we did when we were not ourselves. Give me the chance to prove my love and dedication to you. I will not disappoint you again.”

Fanny felt tears in her eyes. Overwhelmed with emotion, she nodded, her chin wobbling, unable to speak. “I love you very much, Thomas. I never stopped. Now, everything is new again, and I accept your offer with a full heart and hope for the future.” She touched his cheek gently, hoping he could see the adoration in her gaze.

He embraced her, cradling her in his arms and pressing her head against his chest. “Thank you for this chance, my love,” he said. They remained in that attitude for some time before he sighed heavily.

Confused, she broke away and looked at him expectantly.

“I need to apologize to Lizzy,” he murmured. “She has avoided me assiduously the last month, even once I became Mr. Darcy. I hurt her dreadfully.”

“She has a forgiving nature,” Fanny assured him. “It may take time, but she will grant you the same forgiveness I have.”

“How can you be certain?”

“Because she forgave Mr. Darcy,” Fanny said simply. “He insulted her most grievously.”

“But I am her father! Surely, my words have wounded her more than he ever did.” He looked genuinely distraught, and her heart ached for him.

“That may be so. But I have faith our daughter has been raised better than to hold on to a grudge. She will be worried that the changes we have experienced will not be permanent. We must strive to show her they are.” Fanny sighed. “I do wonder if I shall have the fortitude that Elizabeth had as me. What if I become lax with our daughters—Lydia, especially? What if she turns into a hoyden and ruins us all?”

“I shall be with you every step of the way,” he promised her. “United, we can withstand all her antics. And I think Miss Holt has done an admirable job of managing her so far.”

“I do like the lady. Her reputation was not misstated in the least.”

A clock chimed somewhere, and Fanny sighed. “We had best change and go downstairs.”

“Yes, I suppose we ought to.” He released her after kissing her once more. “I believe I shall be required to have an interview with Darcy today.”

She grinned. “Oh Thomas, do you really think so?”

“Of course, I do! He will not delay now that all is well.” Standing, he went to his chamber. “Shall I call for you in thirty minutes?” he asked.

She blushed and nodded. It was the beginning of a new life for both of them. Their future looked brighter than she ever thought possible, and she could not wait to begin. No matter what happened, Fanny had another chance at love. She would do nothing to risk losing it again. And with Thomas by her side, they could handle anything that life gave them.

Fanny dressed in a simple gown that did not require aid and then fastened her golden locks into a chignon. Grabbing her favorite shawl, she drew the delicate gold brooch out of the case and used it to fasten the shawl in place. She stroked the trinket lovingly, marveling at how her husband knew her so well.

“It has been a very happy Christmas,” she said aloud.

“A very happy Christmas, indeed.” Thomas came up behind her, wrapping her in an embrace.