Excentryke's Musings

Title: Saving Mr. Darcy
Author: ExcentrykeMuse
Fandoms: Pride & Prejudice / Twilight Saga
Pairings: Bella/Owestry, Elizabeth/Darcy, Jane/Bingley
Rating: PG
Word Count: 7k
Author’s Note: Read Harley Street first.  It’s set in the same universe.
Warnings: illegitimate children (pre story), affairs (pre story), Darcy is not the hero, Fitzwilliam is not the hero, Elizabeth is not the heroine, time travel, gambling, just read it
Summary: The Earl of Matlock’s eldest son is in love with Bella.  He has a proposal for her and not just of the matrimonial sort…

Saving Mr. Darcy

“Well,” the Viscount of Owestry said as he lost the hand, “that’s that then.”

Bella looked over at him without pity.  The gentlemen who came to the basement in Harley Street all gambled with their eyes open.  They were all, with the exception of Bella, members of White’s and most of them were titled or the sons of titles. 

The Viscount of Owestry was a perfect example of that.  He was the eldest son of the Earl of Matlock, his heir apparent, and had the honorary use of his father’s secondary title, the Viscount of Owestry.  He had a younger brother in the army and a sister in society.  Owestry, however, preferred to spend his time gambling in Harley Street.  Bella rather suspected he came not only for the action but to look at her.

“How much is that now, Owestry?” Lord Timothy asked.  “Fifteen hundred?”

“Sixteen and a half,” Owestry corrected.  He sat up and pulled himself together.  “Bella, if I may speak to you.”

Her violet eyes flicked up at him.  “My hand is not finished yet.”

“When it is, then, m’dear,” he requested, standing.  He knocked his fist three times on the table and walked away.

It took a brave man to walk away.  Most men would try to win it back.

Bella called.  Sir Walter called.  Lord Timothy folded.  The game was on.

Well over forty-five minutes later, Bella, with her winnings in her pelisse, walked over to the armchairs where Owestry was sitting.  He was smoking a cigar and chatting with Lord Montague Wimsey.

At Bella’s approach, Owestry made a signal with his hand and Lord Montague looked over his shoulder.  He turned back to Owestry, nodded, and vacated his seat for Bella, kissing her hand after she was seated.

Bella took it as her due.

Owestry offered Bella a cigarette, which she took, lighting it from the end of his cigar.

“Well, Owestry,” Bella started.  “You won’t win your money back by sharing a smoke with me.”

“No,” Owestry agreed, nonplussed.  “I have a proposal for you.  A two-pronged proposal.”

Bella indicated that he should continue.

“I am certain you heard the Viscountess died October last.”

Bella had heard something about it.  Owestry had not been frequenting the club at the time, so if she had read about it in The Times, Bella had not particularly noticed it. 

“You have a daughter, do you not?” Bella inquired, taking a drag from her cigarette.

“Yes,” Owestry agreed.  “Annabelle.”

Bella didn’t comment.  It was not her place.

“She needs a mother,” Owestry continued, “and I need an heir.”

What an odd comment for him to make to her.  Bella just continued to regard Owestry over the candle that was set in between the two armchairs.  As this was a gambling den and not a gentleman’s club, drinks were not served so Bella could only remove the cigarette from between her lips and let it smolder.

Owestry coughed uncomfortably.

It was the first time Bella had not seen him fully put together.

Owestry was not a particularly handsome man.  He was slight in the shoulders and rather thin, too thin, with thinning dirty blond hair and watery blue eyes.  There was something about his face that was similarly displeasing.  The problem was that Bella was slightly fascinated with him and had started dreaming about him this past summer.  She couldn’t account for it.  She gambled with much handsomer men, men who flirted with her and would like nothing more than a tussle in the sheets, but she was fixated on Owestry.

“I married a duke’s daughter the first time round,” Owestry started again, “for position and duty.”

Bella dashed her cigarette.  “I can’t figure out why you’re telling me any of this, Viscount,” she confessed.

“Dammit, Miss Swan,” he hushed, scratching his nose.  “I am trying to propose to you!”

Bella’s eyes widened.  She almost dropped her cigarette, but instead brought it to her lips and inhaled.  Letting out a shaky breath, she asked, “Pardon?”

“I came here for a flutter last December because, well, because my father was trying to push prospective brides on me, and I have stayed for you,” Owestry confessed.  “The more I tried to dismiss it, the more the idea grew on me.  You would have to give up the gambling, of course, and enter society.  We will make up a story about how we met, but I am asking you to marry me.  I also need your help with something.”

Bella paused.  “What do you need my help with?”  In for a penny, in for a pound, she figured.

“It’s my cousin Darcy,” he explained, dashing his cigar.  “Have you heard of him?”

Shaking her head, Bella waited for him to continue.

“Deuced wealthy landowner in Derbyshire.  One of society’s greatest catches though untitled.  He has been caught by some no one with connections in trade down in Hertfordshire.  He wrote to Papa about the wedding.  Darcy is getting a special license and marrying in just over a fortnight.  I need you to come down to Hertfordshire, as my betrothed, and ferret out what is happening.  Darcy would never tell me anything, but the fortune hunter of a fiancée might confide in you, another woman who is marrying into the family.”

Bella blinked carefully and took a deep breath.  “Suppose I agree to marry you—”

“I am deuced hoping you will,” Owestry pleaded, leaning forward.  “I am hopelessly in love with you, Miss Swan.”

Bella paused.  “Suppose I agree to marry you,” she repeated, “you expect some woman in Hertfordshire to tell me how she caught your cousin in less than a fortnight—and then we will what, stop the wedding?”

“I will convince Darcy how unsuitable this wench is,” Owestry explained.  “Hopefully Richard will help me.  He has apparently met Miss Bennet.”

“Who is Richard?” Bella inquired.

“My younger brother, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.  He is close friends with Darcy and, as I said, has met this woman from Hertfordshire.  I expect a full report from him in the post.  It is the only reason I have not gone down to Hertfordshire yet.  That,” he confessed with a sparkle in his eye, “and I needed to propose to you.”

Bella’s head was in a whirl.  She sat back in the armchair, regarding Owestry, and lightly puffing on her cigarette.  She didn’t even particularly like cigarettes, but she would never refuse anything Owestry offered her.  That’s why she was going to accept his insane proposal.

“Your father won’t accept this engagement.”

Owestry looked at her hopefully.  “He has no say in the matter. I married to please him the first time.  I shall marry to please myself this time.”

“I am hardly respectable,” Bella refuted.

“No gentleman in here would dare breathe a word against you, they all respect you too much.  You also have the perfect blackmail on them.”

Bella shrugged.  She supposed that was true.

Dashing her cigarette, she looked up at Owestry.  “When do we leave? You know all my clothing is in mourning.  I lost my father on the crossing from the Americas.”

At first it seemed as if Owestry hadn’t heard her, but then his watery blue eyes widened and he leaned forward, “Is that an acceptance, Miss Swan?”

“Do not make me regret it,” she warned him.  Standing, she picked up her pelisse from the table.

He quickly stood as well.  “I shall pick you up first thing tomorrow morning,” he promised her.

“It is tomorrow morning,” she reminded him.

Quickly taking out his time piece, he checked.  “It is four in the morning,” he agreed.  “Can you be ready at eight o’clock?”

“I will have Charlotte pack my trunk,” she agreed.  “I trust there is room for my maid in the carriage.”

“She can sit with the driver,” Owestry promised as they began to slowly wend their way to the door.  “What is your address?”

“Bloomsbury,” Bella told him.  “Water Street.  The west side.”  She collected her cloak from the coat check and allowed Owestry to walk her to the street while she waited for her carriage.  “I take it I will have to shut the flat up if the wedding is in a fortnight.”

“I am afraid so—” He paused.  “I do not know your given name.  Everyone just calls you ‘Bella.’  I always assumed it was because you were ‘beautiful.’”

“Nor I yours,” Bella confessed, looking into his eyes.  He was barely two inches taller than she was.

“Andrew,” he told her.

“It is actually ‘Bella,’” she confessed.  “My father called me ‘Bells.’”

Her carriage rolled up and Owestry looked away from her.  Bella allowed her man to open the door for her and stepped in.  She would see Owestry in a matter of hours.

As soon as she got back to the apartment, she ordered her trunks packed and had her breakfast, taking only a two hour nap.  She prepared for the morning, having her hair brushed out and put in a severe bun at the base of her neck.  She chose her grey silks and was ready by the time Owestry called for her.

“You look so well this morning, Bella,” Owestry complimented.

“Thank you,” she murmured, taking him in in his fresh cravat and day suit.  “I take it Annabelle will not be joining us.”

“She is in Matlock with her governess.”

Bella nodded.

“I should tell you a few particulars,” Owestry told her uncomfortably.  “I do not wish you to be overwhelmed.”

“Whatever you need to tell me,” she agreed.  It was not llike she was going to tell him about the Cullens, the Volturi, or time travel.  He already knew that she was an American and that she gambled for a living.  That was enough to be getting on with.

“Richard, my younger brother, is the product of an affair.”

Bella blinked but motioned that he should continue.

Owestry was clearly embarrassed.  “My mother had a—flirtation—with our uncle, Mr. George Darcy, that is, our aunt’s husband.  Richard looks the spitting image of the Darcy family.  He and Darcy look like brothers.  It is uncanny.”  He adjusted his cravat.  “Uncle Darcy paid for Richard’s commission.  He left him a stipend in his will.  He also made Richard our young cousin, Georgiana Darcy’s, second guardian.”

“He took it quite seriously then,” Bella surmised.

“He had other children out of wedlock,” Owestry now continued.  “One was by his steward’s wife, George Wickham.  He is a reprobate.  I understand that he is now in the Regulars.  Darcy has been paying his debts since Cambridge.  No good comes when Wickham is in the neighborhood.  Darcy blood is thicker than water and, unfortunately, thicker than reputation.”

Bella regarded Owestry carefully.  “Richard is more Darcy and Georgiana’s brother than yours, then, I take it.”

“Such is the way, though.”

She nodded.  “Do you have any other brothers or sisters?”

“A younger sister.  Lady Julia Fitzwilliam.  She will be entering her third season this summer.  She will be coming for the wedding later on to serve as bridesmaid.”

“I look forward to meeting Lady Julia, then.”

The carriage fell into silence and somewhere along the ride, Bella drifted off to sleep.  She awoke to Owestry shaking her awake.

“Are we there yet?” Bella asked.

“Nearly,” Owestry promised.

Bella nearly started.  Owestry was now sitting next to her.  She turned and looked into Owestry’s watery blue eyes. 

“If I may,” he asked, picking up her left hand.

Bella wasn’t sure what he meant, but her silence seemed to be all the permission he required.  He removed her glove and then carefully slid a large emerald ring on her fourth finger.

“I would not wish anyone to think I am not serious about you or our engagement.”

“I had not thought,” Bella admitted, angling her hand so she could admire the ring.  “It is quite fine.  Thank you, Andrew.”

“Think of it as a small token of my devotion,” he said a little stiffly.

Bella smiled at him but said nothing else, choosing instead to look out the window.  They soon came up to a large estate that Bella supposed was Netherfield, and when they pulled up to the grand doors, Owestry disembarked and helped Bella out of the carriage.

“This is quite different from London,” Bella admitted.

“Not as fine as Matlock,” Owestry promised her.  “We have gardens where you can read your poetry and an orangerie.”

“An orangerie?” Bella asked in surprise.  “How wonderful!”

At that moment a tall man with broad shoulders and curling dark hair came out of the top door, followed closely by a similar looking man in red regimentals.

“That would be Darcy and Richard,” Owestry whispered into her ear, making Bella blush.

“I see what you mean by their looks,” Bella whispered back.

“Owestry!” Darcy greeted, coming down the stairs, clearly pleased to see his cousin.  “Is this the inestimable Miss Swan?”

“In the flesh,” Owestry answered with a small smile on his face, leading Bella forward.  “Darling, this is my cousin Darcy and my brother, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.” 

She properly curtseyed to them and offered her hand.

“I hope your journey has not been too long, Miss Swan,” Colonel Fitzwilliam inquired.  He was about two inches taller than Darcy and his eyes were a muddy brown where Darcy’s seemed to be a dark green.

“Not intolerable,” she answered, looking between the two cousins, “though I am unused to carriage rides, I must confess.”

“Miss Swan lives year round in London,” Owestry was now telling them.  “I look forward to bringing her to Matlock after the Little Season.”

“I hope it has large fires and lined curtains,” Bella teased him, taking his arm so he could lead her up the front steps.  “Otherwise I do not know how I will survive the Derbyshire winter.”

“You should consider coming to Kent with us this Easter,” Fitzwilliam was now saying.  “Lady Catherine should surely love to see her new niece.”

They were now entering the house proper and their trunks were being brought in behind them.

Bella looked at Owestry questioningly.

“That is our father’s elder sister, Lady Catherine De Bourg, and her daughter Anne, at Rosings Park,” Owestry explained.  “I have not visited Rosings for many years since.  I have Annabelle to consider.”

Bella nodded.  “Shall I go up and refresh myself?” she asked the assembled gentlemen.  “Carrie?” she asked, catching her maid’s eye.

“Yes, Miss Swan,” she answered with a curtsey.  “I will have someone fetch you a cup of your favorite tea.” 

Turning back to Owestry, Bella pressed her gloved hand to his.  “I think I shall lie down for half an hour, if you do not mind.”

“Not at all, my dear.  Lunch is not until—”  He turned to Darcy.

“Two o’clock,” he supplied.

Bella checked her time piece.  “It is barely eleven o’clock,” she stated cheerfully.  “I will see you gentlemen for lunch.”  Giving them all a smile, she followed Charlotte upstairs.

As soon as she was in her bedroom, she threw off her bonnet, shucked her gloves, toed off her shoes, and threw herself on the bed.  “Draw the curtains, Carrie!” she ordered.  “Do not wake me until half one!”

“Yes, quite, Madam,” Charlotte agreed.  “Did you get much sleep in the carriage?”

“An hour or so, but not nearly enough,” Bella answered, groaning.  “I shall certainly sleep tonight.”

“I will have your tea ready for you when I come to wake you, madam,” Charlotte promised, picking up her shoes.  “Would you like me to take down your hair?”

“I shall sleep on my stomach,” Bella sighed.  “Good night.”

Charlotte tiptoed out, closing the door behind her.

Bella didn’t dream.

The curtains, however, were pulled open far too soon.

Bella sighed, but she pushed herself up.  “Am I presentable?” she asked. 

Charlotte was placing a cup of tea on the vanity.  She looked over.  “I shall fix your hair.”

Bella accepted her fate, pushing herself off of the bed and sitting at the glass, allowing Charlotte’s proddings.  She was poked and prodded for twenty minutes, all the while sipping her tea, before using the chamber pot, and then she was ready to go down to the drawing room. 

When she arrived there were too many people for her to possibly take it.

Owestry fortunately found her and brought her over to the couches.  “We shall go in presently,” he told her.  “I suppose I should introduce you to the Bingleys and the Hursts.”

“Perhaps that can wait?” Bella suggested, “until we are all seated?” She looked at him wide eyed.  “It is so much easier to memorize names when people cannot move from their seats.”

He looked her over.  “You look very pretty in greys,” he complimented.  “I did not say so this morning.  I admit I have barely slept.”

She reached out and carefully pressed her hand to his arm.  “Thank you for saying so, Owestry.  I suppose I shall come out of mourning for my father now that we are to be married.”

“How long ago that did Mr. Swan die?”

“Chief Swan,” she corrected.  “He was the local sheriff.”

“Sheriff?” Owestry inquired in confusion.

“The frontier is very different from polite society,” she told him with a small smile, thinking of twenty-first century Forks.  “You would hardly recognize the Bella Swan you would meet there from the young lady you met at Harley Street.”

His watery blue eyes softened.  “I suppose you must be correct.  I know very little of the Americas.”

“And what are you two lovebirds speaking about?” Fitzwilliam inquired, coming up to them with a glass of wine.  “Strange to see my elder brother besotted.”

Owestry was immediately uncomfortable, and Bella did not like Fitzwilliam’s tone.  She looked him dead in the eye and raised her eyebrow at him in question.  Fitzwilliam immediately looked intrigued.

“Aren’t you the femme fatale, Miss Swan?”

“I beg your pardon?” she asked him slowly.

“How did my milksop of a brother win a prize of a woman like you?” he continued, his gaze shifting between the two of them in question.

Bella was infuriated.  “Colonel, I don’t know anything about you—”

“You don’t?” he inquired.

“—nor do I care to,” she I continued, “but I refuse to let you speak to us in such a manner.”

Owestry looked surprised at her words.

Fitzwilliam seemed impressed and was now looking her up and down.

“This one is a keeper,” he was now telling his brother.  “She seems to actually be able to tolerate you.”

Bella felt like flicking her fingers at him, but she knew that would be unladylike.

Over the two years she had been gambling at Harley Street, and the year before that when she had been making her way from Italy up through Switzerland, then France, then across the channel, she had learned to stick up for herself.

It was then that she noticed that Darcy was regarding her from his place at the window.  He had been watching the entire altercation.

A boyish looking man with auburn hair and freckles came into the room.  “Ah.  The Viscount and Viscountess have arrived!” he announced.

Bella blushed.

“They are not married yet, Bingley,” Fitzwilliam informed him from his place near them.  “Miss Swan has plenty of time to change her mind.”

“Why would I do that?” Bella challenged from the settee, bristling.  She turned to Owestry and saw that he was looking at her with complete devotion.  Smiling at him, she looked down at her hands and then returned her attention to the room.

Lunch was announced and Darcy claimed the privilege of leading her in.  Bella was quite surprised, but allowed him given that Owestry deferred to him.

“I look forward to meeting Miss Bennet,” she told Darcy.  “We engaged ladies surely must compare notes on lace and bonnets.”

Darcy looked over at her.  “I notice you are in half mourning, Miss Swan.”

“My father perished during the passage,” she admitted.  “However, that was over two years ago now.  It was efficacious, you understand, as a single woman with no protector, to remain in mourning.  Gentlemen are much more respectful.”

“I quite comprehend,” Darcy agreed.  “Elizabeth has only met Colonel Fitzwilliam.  Georgiana has not even arrived from London.”

“You should have written,” Bella chided.  “We could have offered her a place in our carriage.”

“I did not know you were coming until I received the express this morning.”

Bella speared a potato.  “I must admit I did not know we were coming until this morning when Owestry asked me, and I ordered Carrie to pack my trunk.  I was in the carriage moments later.  He seems taken to flights of fancy recently.”  She thought on his sudden decision to propose.  That certainly seemed a flight of fancy, though he could have been considering it for months, for all she knew.

“The eldest Miss Bennet is engaged to Bingley,” Darcy now told her.

“Is she?  Owestry did not mention.”

“It is a double wedding.”

“A double wedding?”  Bella was now truly surprised.  She looked across the table and caught Owestry’s eye.  It did not seem he was able to follow her conversation with Darcy but was engaged in speaking with one of the Bingley sisters.  “It seems I must make the eldest Miss Bennet’s acquaintance as well then.  How many Misses Bennet are there?”

“Five.”  There was a certain twinge in Darcy’s voice.  “The youngest Miss Bennet is already married.”

This seemed unusual.  Even Bella knew the youngest daughters were not presented into society until the elder were married.

“Who is her husband?  Is it anyone of our social circle?”  Bella highly doubted it, but she thought she would ask anyway.

“You have the most astonishing eyes,” Darcy suddenly commented, staring into her gaze most forthrightly.

Bella was stunned at the startling change in conversation.  She paused, held Darcy’s gaze for a moment, and then chose to ignore him.  She was not going to engage in a conversation about the astonishing quality of her eyes with a man other than her fiancé. 

“I suppose,” Darcy stated into her silence, “that Owestry first noticed your eyes.”

She decided not to comment on this either.  Bella had no idea what Owestry first noticed about her.  She really hadn’t had time to ask.  The point is that he had noticed her at all and had thrown propriety to the wind and had decided to marry her despite her lack of respectability.

“Does Hertfordshire have fine weather?” she asked after the silence had extended for several long minutes.

“Well you should ask,” Darcy answered.  “The weather is often pleasant.”

Bella nodded to herself.  She supposed she could comment on the state of the roads next, but she wasn’t that desperate.

“How did you two meet?”  Bella was uncertain who this was, but she was clearly asking Owestry the question.

Owestry took his napkin and wiped his mouth.  “We were paired at Piquet,” he answered, “at a ball.  Miss Swan led us to victory and she politely allowed me to partner her for the rest of the evening.”  He looked over at her fondly.

“He walked me to my carriage at the end of the night,” Bella added.  She played with her wineglass although she had barely touched it during the meal.

“Odd,” Fitzwilliam noted.  “You do not play Piquet.”

“I do when Miss Swan is playing,” Owestry replied quickly.

“I am certain any man would play cards when Miss Swan is playing,” Darcy decided, regarding Bella carefully from where she was sitting beside him. 

Owestry paused.  “I see you take my point.”

“I certainly take your point,” Darcy agreed. 

Bella felt decidedly uncomfortable. 

She spent the rest of the afternoon pretending to read a book while Darcy and Fitzwilliam whispered to each other, taking turns regarding her.  At one point she approached Owestry who was at his correspondence and whispered, “Are they always whispering at each other?”

“Darcy and Fitzwilliam?” he inquired, looking over at them.  “They are certainly looking at you a great deal.  I do not like it, though I suppose it is better than them discussing the Misses Bennet.”

“Bingley said there was to be a wedding ball.”

“He mentioned the same to me.”

“Do you want me to go to the milliner and get a dress in white?  All my evening dresses are in black.”

“I doubt she has silks,” Owestry posited, crossing his t’s. 

“I can still go look.  It could be an excuse to get Elizabeth Bennet alone.”

“I had not thought of that.”  He picked up her hand and kissed it.  Bella couldn’t help it, but her heart skipped a beat.  It was the first time he had kissed her and he did it so casually.  “You think of everything, my dear.”

“It’s why you brought me,” she agreed, smiling down at him, trying not to bring attention to the casual affection.  “I shall call on her tomorrow morning.  Until then, see if you can get the men to play billiards.  It’s what you men do, is it not?”  She raised an eyebrow at him and went back to sitting on the settee with the book she was decidedly not reading.

She was invited to play cards and she had brought change for that very reason.  Making up a table with Caroline Bingley, Louisa Hurst, and Mr. Bingley, Bella played Whist for the better part of two hours until Mr. Bingley called for music.

Bella, as the reigning female, was deferred to.  “Oh,” she sighed.  “No one can get a pianoforte over the Rocky Mountains.”

“Miss Swan,” Fitzwilliam asked, pausing.  “Are you from the Colonies?”

“We are no longer the Colonies,” she answered with a light of patriotism in her eyes.  “We won our independence thirty years ago.”

He looked her up and down and then shared a look with Darcy.  Turning to Owestry, who was still at his correspondence, he demanded, “You are marrying a Colonist?”

“Miss Swan is obviously of English extraction,” he answered begrudgingly, as if he was expecting a fight.  “Do not worry your head on it.”

“Do not worry, do not worry?  Do you not care about the Fitzwilliam name?”

“I married the daughter of a Duke.  I have done my duty.  Now I may marry how I please,” Owestry told him firmly, trying to cut off any further argument.  “You have had no objection to Miss Swan thus far.  She is perfectly respectable.”

Fitzwilliam looked at him in sheer disbelief.  He looked at Darcy for support, but he put up his hands in surrender.  “Bingley!” he demanded.

Bingley, however, looked up at the younger of his two sisters.  “Caroline!  Music?”

Caroline Bingley gracefully stood and made her way to the pianoforte.  “Colonel, shall you turn pages for me?” she asked slyly. 

He was now looking at Bella in disbelief, but she was completely ignoring him.

“Hurst, come and take Caroline’s seat!” his wife was now calling.  The man helpfully got up from where he was reclining and came and joined the table.

The game continued.

Fitzwilliam stormed off and began whispering with Darcy again.

Owestry and Bella shared a look from across the room.

When it was time to change for dinner, a dark pall had set over the company, and Bella was glad to escape them for near an hour.

Owestry fortunately led her in and dinner was made up of small discussions of little nothings.

The next day Bella prepared to call on the Misses Bennet with Louisa Hurst.  The gentlemen were to call an hour after tea for the pleasure of seeing their intendeds.

Bella was introduced as the intended of the Viscount of Owestry and she was given a place to sit beside Jane, the eldest.  “Are you much looking forward to the wedding?” she inquired of the sisters.

Elizabeth looked at her with her sky blue eyes and smiled.  “Oh yes.  It cannot seem to come soon enough.”

“You are being married by special license,” Bella reminded her.  “I daresay that is romantic.”

“I still had a five week engagement,” Jane informed her.  “Elizabeth’s engagement is just shy of three weeks.”

“Are all your sisters to be in attendance?  I understand your youngest sister is recently married.”

Elizabeth shifted in her seat.

“Oh,” Mrs. Hurst answered for her.  “You mean Mrs. Lydia Wickham.  We came back to Netherfield and were surprised to find the youngest had married a local officer while we were away.”

Wickham.  Wickham. 

Bella paused, her brain restarting.  “She married an officer?” she asked brightly.

“Yes,” Jane answered serenely, “an officer in the militia.  He has since transferred up North to the Regulars.”

“A shame,” Mrs. Hurst commiserated, “to have a sister live so far away.”

“Indeed,” Elizabeth agreed quickly, setting aside her dish of tea.  “But I will be going to Derbyshire in a matter of a week and a half, and Jane will be moving to Netherfield.”

“Have you seen Pemberley?” Bella asked.  “I have yet to see Matlock.”

“Yes.” Elizabeth seemed grateful for the change in subject.  “I have seen Pemberley.  It is a beautiful estate.  I suppose you and the Viscount will be our guests.”

“Indeed,” Bella agreed, “and you will be our guests.”  Her violet eyes flashed.  She looked between the sisters.  “May I see the wedding clothes?”

Jane seemed more than happy.  Elizabeth was clearly put out.  The ladies all stood and repaired upstairs where two dresses in pale yellow were laid out before them.  Jane’s was simpler while Elizabeth’s had much more lace in the trim.  Jane’s was made out of muslin while Elizabeth’s decidedly was not.

“Shall you wear bonnets?  I’ve never been to a wedding.”

“Elizabeth wants ribbons in her hair.”

Bella looked over to Eilzabeth, whose honey blonde curls were put up on top of her head.  “Surely if they’re yellow, you shan’t be able to see them,” she posited.

“They shall be blue,” Elizabeth snapped back.

Surprised by the animosity, Bella only nodded.  She looked over at Mrs. Hurst and tilted her head.  The visit was soon concluded.

When they got back to Netherfield, she asked the manservant to show her into a private parlor, wrote a note to Owestry, and then had a maid deliver it to him.  She only had a few minutes to wait.

He came in and looked over at her.

She was standing by a sideboard.  “Would you like anything?” she asked him, holding up what she believed was a decanter of port.

“No, no, Bella.  That is not necessary.”

Plunking it back down, she turned to him and was struck by how handsome he was in a dorky kind of way.  Bella had the overwhelming urge that she wanted him to kiss her.

Owestry looked at her in confusion.

“Won’t you kiss me, Owestry?” she asked.  “Then I promise to tell you about Elizabeth Bennet.”

He blushed.

“Surely you kissed the first Viscountess,” she argued.  “We are engaged to be married.  It’s not unheard of engaged couples to sneak away and steal a kiss.”

“Sophie did not care for me much,” Owestry admitted, looking at his shoes.

She sighed.  “I care for you, Owestry, otherwise I would not have agreed to marry you.”  She pushed off of the sideboard and approached him as if he were a scared cat.  “I promise I won’t reject you.”  Coming up to him, she reached around his neck and placed her face close to his.  “My breath smells like tea and cookies,” she prodded.

“Well, if that is the case,” he answered ruefully, and Bella leaned in and kissed him softly.

Kissing Owestry was not like kissing Edward.  Edward was chilly and hard as diamond.  Owestry was warm and pliable.  She only pressed lips to lips before withdrawing.  She had never gone beyond that and she didn’t want to startle her fiancé.  He was adorably shy.  Withdrawing from him, she asked, “How was that?”

He took a deep breath.  “Quite agreeable, my dear.”

“Perhaps you can kiss me again when I withdraw for the evening,” she suggested, smiling to herself.  She turned around, letting her hips sashay a little, and went to sit on a settee.  Patting the seat beside her, she waited for Owestry to join her.  “Elizabeth,” she began, “is not as pretty as Jane.”

“No?” he inquired.

“No,” she agreed.  “Her wedding dress also has more lace on it.  It seems as if she likes spending Darcy’s money.  Jane is more circumspect.  Mrs. Bennet told me the grooms were paying for the trousseaus.”  She gave him a look.  “She was asking me if you were paying for my trousseau.”  She then paused.  “Jane’s dress was made out of muslin, and Elizabeth’s was made out of silk.  I asked Mrs. Hurst on the ride home if the local dressmaker stocked silk—I told her I needed a new dress for the ball—and she said Elizabeth must have sent to London.”

“Darcy does have the money to spend.”

“I have the money to spend,” Bella argued.  “Does my dress look extravagant to you?”

He looked her over in her dove gray silks with pearl buttons.  “No.  You look quite what a young lady in mourning should.”

“I shall have to send to Mrs. Weaver for a new gown,” she realized.  “She will have to send it express.”

Owestry reached out and placed a hand over hers.  “Ladies of the Ton go to Madam Delacroix.”

Bella looked into his watery blue eyes.  “Mrs. Weaver has all my measurements.  Madam Delacroix doesn’t know what shall suit me.  I don’t have time to go up to London and meet a new dressmaker.”

Owestry seemed to consider.  “Just this once.”

Bella didn’t like the thought of giving up her dressmaker, but she nodded nonetheless.  She knew marrying into society meant changes. 

She took a deep breath.  “There is something else.”

“Something else?”

“You will not like it.”  She took a breath.  “Elizabeth got snappy at me for some reason, but that is not it.”  She placed her hand over Owestry’s lips.  He had opened his mouth to object, but she needed to get this out.  “The youngest Miss Bennet is married to George Wickham.  He is in the Regulars.  You said Wickham is a fortune hunter.  I understood the Bennet sisters are virtually penniless.”

Owestry swore.  “What is Darcy thinking, marrying into this family?”

“I have no idea,” Bella sighed.  “But that is all of it.  I didn’t get a chance to invite the Misses Bennet dress shopping.  Elizabeth got short with me and we immediately left.”

Taking Bella’s hand, he kissed the back of it.  “I will pay for your dress.”

“You will not.”

“Yes, I damn well will.  You are my responsibility now.”  His blue eyes gleamed.  “You are to be my wife.”

“I am not your property—” she argued.

“According to law—” The look in her eyes must have stopped him.  He breathed out.  “My dear, all your money is collectively ours.  It does not matter if you pay or I do.  Indulge me in this.  I want Mrs. Weaver to know you belong to the Matlock family.  I want all of London to know.  In fact, with your permission, I should like to announce it in The Times.”

“How shall you do that?  I have no father, no family, no home.”

“’The Viscount of Owestry is to marry Miss—’ Is your name actually ‘Bella’?” he prodded.

“Isabella Marie Swan,” she supplied begrudgingly.

“’The Viscount of Owestry is to marry Miss Isabella Marie Swan of the Washington Swans.’  Just like that.”

She sighed.  “We’re the ‘Quileute Swans’ though I don’t suppose you’d want to announce that in The Times.”

His eyes screwed up in confusion.  “Where is Quileute?” he pronounced carefully.

“It’s the local Indian reservation.  I have Native American blood.  It’s where my indigo eyes—that so fascinate your cousin Darcy—come from.  My tribe is said to be descended from wolves.”

He reached out and cupped her face.  “That explains your mystery then.  Perhaps we shall not announce that, but it is good to know.”  He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers.  “I count the day I walked into that gambling den the most fortunate day of my life.”

Bella laughed quietly.  “That almost sounds like a declaration of love, Owestry.”

“Andrew,” he corrected.

“Andrew,” she repeated.

Bella was aware of when the argument broke out between Owestry and Darcy.  She was coming down from changing for dinner and she heard something break behind the drawing room door.  Carefully she set her hand on the doorknob and turned it, finding Darcy at the window, seething, and Owestry with a porcelain figure shattered at his feet.  Fitzwilliam was sitting on a couch.

“What is all this about?” she inquired.

“You were sent in as a spy,” Fitzwilliam accused.  “Now we know why Owestry came down early for the wedding.”

“Bully me all you want,” Owestry demanded, his voice nonetheless wavering, “but you will not speak to Miss Swan that way.”

“No, Fitzwilliam, Owestry would have learnt of it with or without Miss Swan reporting to him.  It is all about the neighborhood.  The youngest Bennet daughter is indeed Mrs. Lydia Wickham.”  He turned from the window with a haunted look in his eye.

Bella moved forward but then stop.  “Darcy,” she implored.  “You look so ashamed.  I should never like to see that expression upon your face.”

“How else do you expect him to feel?” Fitzwilliam accused, getting to his feet.  “That snake of a man insinuated himself into the Bennet family.”

Bella, however, wasn’t paying attention to him.  “Darcy,” she pleaded, coming closer to him.  “Owestry is not ashamed of me even though I am from the Americas.  If he were ashamed, I would tell him not to marry me because I’d hate to see that look in his eyes every time he looked upon me and our—our children.”

“You do not understand,” Darcy stated viciously.

“Yes, I do,” she answered.  “Renee—my mom—was ashamed of my dad.  She ran away to California to get away from him.  Dated younger and younger men.  God, when I was seventeen, she married a twenty-one year old ball player to get away from the fact that she had married Charlie when she was young.  It was all I could do to get away from her.”

Darcy looked at her in confusion.  “What is a ‘ball player’?”

“Professional sports,” she explained away.  “We don’t have boxing or horse racing.  We have games played with small balls and bats.”

“How peculiar,” Owestry commented.

Someone tried to enter, but Fitzwilliam quickly went to the door and told the person on the other side to go wait in the smaller drawing room.

“Darcy, what I’m trying to say is I’ve known you for less than a day, but please don’t do this to yourself.”

“You have never been in love,” Darcy argued, looking back out of the window.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bella told him.

Darcy looked over his shoulder at her.

“Can’t you tell I’m mad on Owestry and he’s crazy about me?”  She gave him a look as if to say “isn’t it obvious?”

Darcy glanced between them, back and forth, and then suddenly seemed to crumple.

“I’ve got him!” Bella called, rushing in and taking the majority of Darcy’s weight in her arms.  Owestry rushed over to help and took his other side.  “Fitzwilliam!” she called.  “Divert absolutely everyone!”

“On it!” he answered, going out the door and closing it softly behind him.

Bella and Owestry carried Darcy to the couch and then lowered him onto it.

Darcy looked absolutely ruined. 

“You cannot connect yourself to Wickham,” Bella murmured soothingly.  “You cannot let him have that hold over you.  Did he extract a dowry from you to marry Lydia?  How did he even come to marry her?”

Darcy slumped.  “He eloped with her and the failed to marry her.  Elizabeth would have been ruined.  I could not allow that to happen to her.”

Bella sighed.  This Wickham character sounded like he had the basest of characters, and Bella knew base characters.  She gambled for a living.

“Wickham had a hold over your father,” Bella continued.  “You cannot let him have a hold over you.  What if he gets one over on your children as their uncle?”  She looked over Darcy’s tall head at Owestry.  He gave her an encouraging look.  “You know I only speak the truth.”

“Not even Fitzwilliam would speak these words to me,” Darcy admitted.

“Sometimes it takes an outsider,” Bella admitted.

Darcy looked at her and stared into her eyes.  “The color,” he sighed.  He seemed to be entranced. 

Bella looked away.

“We shall go to London tomorrow,” Owestry declared.  “You shall write to Miss Bennet and have it delivered tomorrow so she cannot come riding over or, worse, send her father, and it will be over.”

Darcy laughed to himself.  “You are taking me away.  I took Bingley away from Jane Bennet last November.”

“Well, you seemed to have the right of it then.  We are leaving.  I am choosing to be the responsible cousin for once.  I am acting head of this family.”

Bella sighed.  It was decided.  They would leave on the morrow.  Now, all she had to choose was a wedding date.  Leaving the room with Owestry, they closed the door behind them quietly.

“Shall we send dinner into him?” Bella asked.

“Yes.  He may not have his appetite, but he might very well want a glass of wine.”

Owestry looked into her eyes, which were nearly at eye level to him, and smiled.  “You were wondrous, my dear.”

“I do try,” she answered with a small smile and with that, hand and hand, they went into dinner.

The End.