The Other Lucas Sister

Title: The Other Lucas Sister
Author: ExcentrykeMuse
Fandoms: Pride and Prejudice / Twilight Saga
Pairings: Bella/Darcy, Charlotte/Mr. Collins
Rating: PG
Word Count: 5k
Warnings: time travel, social classes, we don’t like Elizabeth Bennet, I’m not sure we like Edward either, Mr. Collins isn’t quite the loveable man we all hope he would be, why isn’t Lady Catherine noticing what’s happening under her nose?
Prompt: for foccaciabread who wanted Bella to attempt a “fix it” for P&P

The Other Lucas Sister

Bella was sitting on a settee reading a book of Pope.  She rather liked Pope.  She had never read him in Forks, or indeed Arizona.  She had discovered him in Hertfordshire and he was rather a favorite.  Darcy, however, was interrupting her.

“Should you not be observing Miss Bennet’s fine eyes?” she inquired. 

Darcy was leaning up against the back of the settee and reading over her shoulder.  “I much prefer poetry,” he told her, his voice without any form of inflection.

She sighed, turning the page even though she hadn’t finished the poem.  “Your sister Georgiana prefers poetry.”

“That might be true,” he agreed.

“Miss Bennet is playing the pianoforte.  Should you not be attending her?”

“Fitzwilliam is attending her,” he reminded her.

Bella could feel his gaze on her neck.  Darcy had a habit of regarding her which was unsettling, for the simple reason that it was setting Pride and Prejudice off course.  “They could be speaking about you,” she suggested now, tilting her head slightly so she could see him out of her peripheral vision.

“If they are speaking about me, it is not to praise, and so I do not wish to hear it,” he informed her.  “We are finished with this poem, Miss Lucas.”

She turned the page obligingly.  “How do you know it is not to praise, Mr. Darcy?  You are a man of refined character.”

Bella knew of a man of no better taste.  He was exceptionally well read.  He was attentive.  He was certainly a man of the world.  She had even seen his butterfly collection when Jane was ill at Netherfield, and it was a most impressive collection for the early nineteenth century.

“Miss Bennet does not think so.”

Elizabeth was not supposed to think so.  They were in Kent.  Elizabeth was supposed to believe Wickham’s version of events.  Darcy, however, should be deeply in love with Elizabeth and falling more heavily in love each day.  There was, unfortunately, no sign of it, as far as Bella could find, which was why she was pushing Darcy in Elizabeth’s direction.

“Perhaps if you go over,” she tried, “you might hear a compliment that will surprise you.”  Bella obligingly turned the page.

“The only compliments I receive at the parsonage are from Mrs. Collins’s prettiest sister.”

Bella blushed.  She could feel it reach into her blusher.  When Edward had left her in the woods in October 2005, she had hit her head on a rock and awakened in a bed in Lucas Lodge, her head wrapped in rags.  Everyone believed that she was Charlotte Lucas’s next youngest sister, Isabella, and now she was visiting Charlotte at Hunsford along with Elizabeth Bennet, following Charlotte’s marriage to Vicar Collins.

“I am certain Charlotte compliments you,” Bella tried, not looking up from her book.

“Mrs. Collins is most kind.”  A silence fell between them.  “Shall you not perform, Miss Lucas?” Darcy now inquired now that there was scattered applause for Elizabeth Bennet’s dismal performance.  “You are next in rank.”

She turned to him, closing her book.  “You know I do not like to perform for strangers, Mr. Darcy.”

He held out his hand for her.  “You know how I like to hear you play.”  His verdant eyes shone with honesty, and Bella couldn’t help but accept his offered hand and allow him to lead her to the pianoforte.

Charlotte was smiling happily and Vicar Collins was whispering something to Anne De Bourg.

Bella carefully settled behind the instrument and Darcy stood in attendance.  The Colonel came up to them, gaily looking between.  “Ah, you look quite the pair, if I say so myself.”

Bella blushed.

“Do not tease, Fitzwilliam,” Darcy chided.  “Miss Lucas is not Miss Bennet with her pert opinions and her several seasons in society.”

“I stand corrected!” Fitzwilliam apologized, bowing.  “What shall you play for us this evening, Miss Lucas?”

“Just a bit of Beethoven,” Bella answered, wondering if Clair de Lune had even been written yet.  “I have it memorized, gentlemen, so you need not worry about me.”  She carefully took off her gloves as she hated playing in them and then carefully set her hands on the keys of the piano, beginning her tune.

At the introduction, Darcy and the Colonel exchanged a look, but she received several applause at the end of it, and sat down after only the one song.

She picked up the book of Pope and Darcy settled on the settee beside her, sharing the book, and they sat quietly before dinner.

“We are garnering notice,” Bella warned when Lady Catherine had regarded them for a third time.  “They do not know why you should read a book of poetry with me especially when Miss Bennet is a much more interesting dinner guest.”

“Nothing interesting about her,” Darcy refuted.

Bella looked at him cross-eyed.  This did not bode well.  He was meant to propose in three weeks’ time. 

“She is a dull as a church mouse.”

Bella had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.  “I do not believe anyone has ever described Eliza as being as ‘dull as a church mouse’ before.”

“Her hair is certainly as dull as a church mouse,” Darcy was now saying, indicating Elizabeth who was happily holding court with Colonel Fitzwilliam.  Her hair was indeed a mousy sort of color, though her eyes flashed with mischief.

“Jane is the prettier of the sisters,” Bella agreed, “but that is widely acknowledged throughout Meryton.  No one holds it against Eliza.”

“Everyone regards you as the prettier of the Lucas sisters,” Darcy now said, changing the subject neatly.  “Mr. Collis still married your elder sister.”

“You forget Mariah,” Bella reminded him.

“Miss Mariah is only fifteen and hardly in society.  She is not the subject of this conversation.  Tell me, everyone is interested.  How did Mr. Collins go from choosing Elizabeth Bennet to your elder sister—when you were in the same house.”  His dark green eyes flashed in curiosity.

Bella regarded him carefully.  “You wish for me to be indiscrete.  I was never an option.”

“You play the pianoforte.  Mrs. Collins does not.”  That was certainly true, but playing the pianoforte was not a requirement for a clergyman’s wife, at least not in this instance.

“My sister is the perfect choice,” Bella told him firmly.  Her dark eyes flashed up.  “I am certain they are very contented.”

She could feel his eyes skating over her face.  “I do not deny it.  I simply regard you as the prettier and more accomplished sister.  I think any man who does not recognize that is blind, including Mr. Collins.”

“You flatter,” she tried.

“I do not flatter,” he informed her.  “I simply speak the truth.”  He was silent for several long minutes.  “Shall we pair for dinner although I shall have to lead Lady Catherine in?”

Bella had to withhold a laugh at the seriousness of his question.

Charlotte took her arm when they walked home to the parsonage.  This was uncharacteristic of her.  She and Elizabeth were such great friends—they usually had their heads bowed low in conversation.

Pushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear, Charlotte remarked, “We look so much alike, Bella.”

“Yes,” Bella agreed.  They were both tall.  They both had thick, dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin.  Where Bella had a prettiness about her, however, Charlotte, though, looked only plain.

“Mr. Darcy was most attentive tonight,” she continued.

Bella looked at her aghast.  “No, Charlotte.  You have him quite mistaken.”

“Do I?  Mr. Collins even noticed.”  Her dark eyes showed only honesty.  “He is such a fine match.”

“Match?” Bella nearly screeched.  “He is not a match!”

“Charlotte,” Elizabeth Bennet was now saying, coming up to the two sisters.  “He is the most disagreeable—you should not force your younger sister on him.”

“But they get on so well!” Charlotte was now saying.

Bella could not believe she was hearing this.  “It is not me whom he loves,” she was now explaining.  “The poor man is completely befuddled.  He does not know which way is up and which way is down.”

Charlotte gave her a probing look.  “That is because you play the pianoforte so beautifully, Bella.”  She took her arm again and led her forward.  “Let his behavior be your guide.”

Bella had to hold in a groan.

When he called two mornings later, Charlotte kept on giving Bella encouraging looks. 

“Elizabeth has gone walking,” Bella informed him.  “You find Charlotte and I at our sewing.  Perhaps you should like a walk.”

“Mr. Collins’ rose gardens are particularly excellent,” Charlotte was now saying.  “Perhaps you and Bella should enjoy them.  They are also in perfect view from the house.”

Bella glared at her.

Darcy was looking out the window.  “Yes, roses are quite lovely,” he was now agreeing.  “Pemberley has excellent roses.  Do you enjoy roses, Miss Lucas?”

Bella quickly stopped glaring at Charlotte and softened her gaze for Darcy.  “Only a simpleton would not enjoy roses.  However, surely a small parsonage garden would seem confined—”

“Not confined,” Mr. Darcy promised.  He came up to her and took her sewing out of her hands.  She had a vicelike grip on it.  “I should like to see you among the roses, Miss Lucas.”

Bella was forced to give up her sewing and fetched her pelisse, but forewent her bonnet.  Stepping out into the garden, she was glad to see that Mr. Collins was not about.  He rather droned on at times.  She wasn’t sure how Charlotte could stand him.

“Elizabeth is out walking—” Bella repeated anxiously.

“Then we shall not have to speak to her,” Darcy surmised, his face as solemn as ever.

Bella’s lips twisted.  Her campaign was not going well at all.  Whatever happened at Netherfield when Jane was ill, it was not what should have happened.  As far as Bella could tell, Darcy hadn’t even asked Elizabeth to dance at the Netherfield Ball at all.  He had instead fetched Bella two glasses of lemonade and asked her to sit with him at supper.

Judging that Darcy was in a good mood, Bella carefully pried, “We were all so surprised when the party quit Netherfield directly after the ball last November.  We did not even get a chance to send out a wedding announcement for my sister and Mr. Collins.”

“It was quite sudden,” Darcy agreed.  “I would have stayed if I had only myself to think on, although I was most anxious to see my sister.”

Yes, he had a sister.  Bella knew this from the novel.  “Georgiana,” she agreed.

“Yes, she is younger than you are.  She is not quite out in society.”  He gave her a soft smile.

Bella paused.  She wasn’t certain she had ever seen Darcy smile before.  Forcing herself to continue walking, she turned to admire a rose.  “She is not here with you then and the Colonel?”

“She is in London for the Masters.  I was thinking of sending her to Bath.”

That was what wealthy men did, Bella thought to herself, smelling a rose.  They sent their sisters to finishing schools in Bath.  She was forced to visit her sister and put novels back together. 

Putting a smile back on her face, she murmured, “She is blessed to have a brother who cares so much about her.”

Darcy looked at her carefully.  “Your father has a knighthood.”

Confused, Bella answered.  “Yes.  You well know this.”

“Any discrepancies in the origins of his fortune can be forgiven due to his rank.  A baronetcy would be preferable, of course, but a knighthood is still well placed.”

Bella was left speechless.

Darcy reached out for her hand and kissed it, before escaping through the garden in the direction of Rosings.

Charlotte slinked out of a different part of the rose garden and smiled coyly at Bella.  “Now tell me he is not a suitor for your hand, Bella.  The man clearly has marriage on his mind.”

“But he—I—Elizabeth!”  Bella was stunned.

“What about Elizabeth?  They cannot stand the sight of each other.”  Charlotte took her hand and led her into the house.  “Besides, she is not half as pretty as you.  Do not let her vitriol for the man dissuade you.  I shall write to Papa and tell him of the developments here.  I shall make sure William also approves.  His love for his patroness will not ruin this match, not while I am lady of the vicarage.”  She smiled, a shadow of prettiness on her face.  “I shall see you mistress of your own house yet!”

Bella was mystified.  “But he cannot—It is all wrong!”

“What is all wrong?” Charlotte inquired, now bringing her back into the house.  “You like him, do you not?”

“That is not the point!”

“That is exactly the point,” Charlotte told her, bringing her back into the sitting room and closing the door behind them.  Elizabeth had not yet returned from her walk, it seemed.  “I married William because I was an old maid and I had no prospects.”

“Charlotte—” Bella tried, but Charlotte only made a quieting motion with her hand.

“I was an old maid and I am plain.  We have no fortune, no dowry, Bella.  We have only Father’s knighthood and our charms to recommend us.”  Her face softened and she led Bella over to a couch.  “I had no prospects.  I saw Eliza throw away William and I grabbed him with both my hands and did not let go.”

“Yes,” Bella agreed solemnly.  “I saw you do it.  I never reproached you, Lotte.”

“And I thank you for that.  I know Eliza does.”  Charlotte took a deep breath.  “You, you are young.  You have beauty.  Mr. Darcy notices this and he prizes this.  You have a chance I never got.  Take it, Bella.”

“But—”

Charlotte put up her hand again.  “What are your objections to Mr. Darcy?”

“Objections?”  Bella was entirely at a loss.

Charlotte nodded.

Bella thought for a long moment.  “He is so terribly tall,” she decided on.  She really could find no other fault against him.  He was stern, that was true, but she liked that about him.  He took life seriously.  In the early nineteenth century, a woman had to take life seriously to survive a week, let alone her entire life.

“He is tall,” Charlotte repeated as if this was an egregious fault in his person.  “What else?”

“He lives so far away from you,” Bella whispered.

Charlotte reached out and took Bella’s hand.  “I am here in Kent.  You shall come and visit every Easter.”

Bella’s dark eyes shone with tears, but she held Charlotte’s hand tighter.  She had grown so fond of Charlotte.  She hadn’t thought that possible when she first woke up at Lucas Lodge.  Elizabeth Bennet had always been her favorite character in Pride and Prejudice, but in reality Elizabeth was self-centered, impertinent, and annoying.  Charlotte was loyal, kind, and had sat by Bella’s sick bed every day until she was well enough to come downstairs.  Elizabeth Bennet had laughed at the bump on Bella’s head when she first saw her.  Bella had not appreciated it.

“I do not enjoy ordering servants around,” Bella confessed.

“No,” Charlotte agreed.  “You never have, and you will certainly have many servants as Mistress of Pemberley.  You will inform Mr. Darcy of this preference and the housekeeper will do it for you.”  She nodded her head, having solved the problem.  “You will also start giving orders to Mrs. Hodge so that you will get more comfortable doing it.”

“I could never—” Bella insisted, but Charlotte gave her a look.  “You can and you shall.”

Bella quieted.  “Do you not think a more lively wife would be better for Mr. Darcy?” she whispered.  “I am so quiet and he is so—solemn.”

“A solemn man needs a serious wife,” Charlotte told him.  “A lively wife would irritate him.”

Bella thought back to Pride and Prejudice.  “Do you not think it would create a balance?  Mr. Collins is quite—effusive—and you are quite temperate.  You balance each other out nicely.”  She bit her lip and looked over at her sister, hoping she had not offended her.

“You are quite right.  But if Mr. Darcy were a lively man, I would say he needed a lively wife to keep up with him.  As he is not lively, he does not require that.”  She eyed Bella.  “Do you take my point?”

Bella took a deep breath.  “I understand your reasoning.”

“He did fetch you that lemonade at the Netherfield Ball,” Charlotte reminded her.

“Two—”

“Two?” Charlotte asked happily.

Bella looked down at her hands.  “He might have asked me to dance as the supper dance was concluding so I could sit with him for supper, but I told him I had promised myself to you—”  She reached out to Charlotte as she opened her mouth to speak “—I had barely spoken five words to him before and did not know what I should say to him.  It was also my first ball.”

“You were just nineteen,” Charlotte agreed, thinking.  “It is clear he had a preference back in November.  It is no wonder he has shown a clear preference so quickly.”  She hummed.  “I will certainly write Father.”

“I do not wish you to get your expectations up, Lotte,” Bella begged.  She still hoped to steer Darcy toward Elizabeth.  Pride and Prejudice was the greatest love story since Romeo and Juliet.  She would not be blamed for ruining it!

“Expectations have already been raised.”

Bella sighed.

Elizabeth was out on another of her walks when Darcy called again, this time with the Colonel.  Mr. Collins was out in his garden, potting some plants, but Charlotte made sure not to call him, and closed the shades so he could not see into the sitting room.

“This is most comfortable,” Fitzwilliam complimented as he took his seat.

Charlotte gave a pointed look at Bella who reluctantly asked Mrs. Hodge for tea.  Charlotte was making Bella give all the orders and even set the menus.  Bella thought Charlotte was being unusually cruel.

“Yes, I believe our aunt made many alterations when Mr. Collins first became vicar here,” Darcy commented as he took a seat.

“She did,” Charlotte confirmed.  “It is a very comfortable home.  I find no fault in it.”  She looked at Bella.  It was clearly her turn to say something.

“There are shelves in the closet.  That is certainly one of Lady Catherine’s many innovations.”  She gave Charlotte a pointed look back.

“Perhaps you should consider it for Pemberley,” Fitzwilliam suggested.

“No,” Bella inserted quickly—a little too quickly, if she were being at all honest. 

Charlotte looked pleased with Bella’s response.

“That is,” Bella continued, at a loss with what to say.

“That is to say,” Charlotte saved her, “it is a most individual taste.  Not all your guests might appreciate it, Mr. Darcy.”

“You do not like it then, Miss Lucas,” Darcy checked as Mrs. Hodge came in with tea. 

She fortunately placed it in front of Charlotte who thanked her for it, and began to serve.

“My poor dresses are quite creased,” Bella confirmed as she helped pass Mr. Darcy his cup.  “I do not know how Charlotte manages.”

“A lady always does,” Charlotte assured the gentlemen as she passed Fitzwilliam his dish.

Fitzwilliam now turned to Bella.  “You play with such spirit, Miss Lucas.  Tell me, did your elder sister teach you or did you have the benefit of the masters?”

Bella felt like she was caught in headlights.  Grandma Marie had insisted she have private lessons from the school music teacher starting in third grade and they had only disbanded when Bella went to live in Forks.  Edward played so well that she never bothered to tell him she could also play.  There was never a moment to steal away on the Forks High piano, Edward had occupied all of her time.  What was she supposed to say now?

“Miss Smythe taught all the young ladies how to play in Meryton,” Charlotte was now answering for her.  “I am afraid I was a little too old for her tutelage.”

“Yes, Miss Smythe,” Bella agreed, taking up the party line.  “I do so remember her well.”

Darcy considered.  “Plenty of time for you to still take advantage of the masters.”

Charlotte paused and then took up her cup.  “Bella is most assiduous in her studies.”

Bella looked at Charlotte carefully.  “I never quite did have time to practice.”

“Mary Bennet, you may remember,” Charlotte was now saying, “always brought her music to local gatherings and monopolized the pianoforte.  Why, even last September when we had our gathering at Lucas Lodge, Miss Mary took hold of the pianoforte as soon as she entered the house.  Then, once there was a call for dancing, none of the other young ladies could display.”

“Did you dance that night, Miss Lucas?” Colonel Fitzwilliam inquired.

Bella had spent most of the night trying to determine the angle of Mr. Darcy’s position in the mirror.  She had been looking to see if he had noticed Elizabeth Bennet’s fine eyes.  No matter how she tried to manage it, he always seemed to be looking at her and not Elizabeth.  It had been most perplexing.

“I did dance,” Bella confessed.  “Oliver Hatfield asked me.”  She took a sip of her tea.

“Darcy did not ask you then.”

“Mr. Darcy does not dance,” Charlotte told Fitzwilliam, “at least not in Hertfordshire.”

“So Miss Bennet told me!” Fitzwilliam said with a laugh.

Darcy placed his cup in his saucer, making a chinking sound.  He seemed to be uncharacteristically exasperated with his cousin if the cup was anything to go by.

“Who is Oliver Hatfield?” the Colonel was now asking.

“Oh, he owns a local orchard,” Charlotte was now telling him.  “They have very fine apples.”

“A man of property then!”  Fitzwilliam’s eyes flashed at Darcy.  “Did you dance with Mr. Hatfield at the Netherfield Ball?” He turned his eyes on Bella.

Bella had danced with Oliver Hatfield, but she wasn’t sure she should admit to it.  It was clear that the Colonel was trying to tease Darcy and rile him up. 

“I do not believe Mr. Collins asked you for a single dance, Charlotte.”  Bella was trying to change the subject, but she was afraid she might embarrass her sister in the process.  “You were engaged not two days later!”

“We were barely acquainted at the time,” Charlotte explained away, setting down her dish of tea before turning to Colonel Fitzwilliam.  “Are you a dancing man, Colonel?”

“Of course I am.  I cannot disappoint the ladies!”

“Then we shall not be disappointed,” Charlotte decided with a laugh.

When the gentlemen left, Charlotte led out the Colonel and Bella trailed behind with Mr. Darcy.  “Your cousin is certainly—merry,” Bella observed with a small smile.  “He had Charlotte laughing half a dozen times.”

“I notice he did not draw more than one laugh from you,” Darcy observed, setting his hat on his head.

“I am afraid I have a different temperament from my sister,” she apologized.  “I am made for more quiet contemplation than an afternoon of card playing.”

“You do not play cards.  I had assumed you had attended Mrs. Philips’s card party.”  There was a slight question in his voice.

The Netherfield Party had not been there that evening.  Bella had noted it.  Jane Bennet had been most disappointed while Elizabeth had been captivated by none other than George Wickham.

“I am afraid my skill at cards extends only as far as cheating at Solitaire,” she confessed.

A slight smile curled the corner of his lip.  “You cheat at cards.”

“Only Solitaire!” she reminded him.  “You make it sound as if I haunt the gambling dens of London.”

“Never that, Miss Lucas,” he assured her.  “Never that.”  He tipped his hat to her and then mounted his horse.

Elizabeth arrived back at the parsonage not ten minutes later.  “Did I miss them?”

“You missed the inestimable Colonel,” Charlotte told her with a look.

“I also missed Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth replied archly.  “That man is intolerable.”

“Surely he has some redeemable qualities,” Bella defended, thinking about the way his eyes softened when they landed on her.

“Mr. Darcy?  I think not!” Elizabeth scoffed.

Bella sighed.  If she could ever get Darcy to even propose to Elizabeth, she was going to rip his head off.  Bella feared it was going to be so bad, Darcy would write her off completely and never give her a second chance.

On Wednesday Elizabeth decided not to take a walk, and was proving insufferable so Bella decided to take a walk instead.  She was not a great walker and she did not have walking boots, so she only managed to find a stump of a tree and rest there for a quarter of an hour when she heard a twig break.

“Now you go walking,” Bella sighed at the sight of Mr. Darcy.

“I called on the parsonage and found you were not at home,” he explained, coming into the path.

“The conversation was less than edifying,” she confessed.  “Elizabeth Bennet is my sister’s friend.  She is not mine.” 

“You do have different turns to your minds,” Darcy agreed.  He offered his hand to Bella and she stood from the stump, allowing him to lead her further down the path until they came to a fallen tree and could easily sit together.  “I had hoped for a moment alone with you.”

Bella regarded him.  “Mr. Darcy, we are always alone.”

“We are always alone in company,” he corrected.  “There are others about.”

She shrugged.  It was perhaps as he said. 

Darcy took her hand and looked into her eyes, his gaze shining brilliantly.  “Miss Lucas, you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

Her breath caught.  These were the words from the novel.  These were the words he should be speaking to Elizabeth Bennet.  However, Darcy was speaking them to her. 

“Are you sure you have thought this through?” she asked carefully.  “Mr. Darcy, I—”

“Your humility does you credit, Isabella.  May I call you ‘Isabella’?”

“Everyone calls me ‘Bella,’” she told him.  “Surely you have noticed.”

“’Bella is a child’s name.  ‘Isabella’ is the name of a woman.” 

“Darcy,” she whispered, looking down at her hands.  “I need to tell you something.”

He waited patiently and she centered herself.  Looking back up at him, she admitted, “I was born in 1989.”

Darcy waited.  “I do not understand.”

“No, of course you do not.”  She stood from the tree and smoothed her dress, walking away from him.  Turning, she stretched out her arms around her.  “There was none of this.  No Rosings, no Hertfordshire.  I was—left—in the woods.  I was abandoned in the woods.  They did not want me anymore.  I tried to follow, but I tripped because I am so clumsy and I hit my head, and I woke up in bed—”

He stood and quickly grasped her to him, holding her.  “Hush,” he whispered, running a hand over her hair, careful not to disturb it from its fastenings.  “I understand you.  You were in the woods and you fell and hit your head.  The world has not seemed right since then.  Do I have the right of it?  When was this?”

“A year ago March.”

“Very well,” he agreed, stroking her hair gently.  “It has been a year.  Do you not remember your life from before?”

“I remember it—very differently.”  She clung to him and began to cry, letting out all her frustrations that she had been holding in for well over a year.  It felt such a relief to finally be able to tell someone.  Even if he seemed to think she might be suffering from amnesia—that seemed to be what he was grasping, at least he understood that she was confused.

“Do you not remember even Charlotte then?” he murmured.

She shook her head.  “Not a bit of it.  I did not even know about Miss Smythe.”

“My poor own one,” Darcy soothed.  “What a weight this must have been on your small shoulders.  Let me take this burden from you.  Let me take you away and start a new life that is free from all the confusion and encumbrances that this secret has held.”

She pulled away and searched his dark green eyes.  “But none of it is right,” she whispered.  “I have been trying to set it right.”

He took her face in his hands and nodded.  “Let us set it right together,” he told her firmly.  “Become my wife.  Let me take you away to Pemberley.”

Hesitating, she remained silent.

Darcy slid his hands down from her face, over to her shoulders and held her steady.  “I am in earnest, Isabella.  I do love the strong woman you have become.  Your steadfastness of character and elegant quietude have drawn me to you again and again.  Please put me out of my suffering and agree to become my wife.”

“I shall bore you,” she objected.

“Isabella,” he chided.  “You could never bore me.”

“Eliza complains quite often that I bore her,” Bella pointed out.

Darcy gave her a pointed look.  “Miss Bennet is vapid and teases even her closest acquaintance.  I hope she did not mean it and even if she did, it is not your place to entertain her.  I doubt you bore Mrs. Collins.”

“No.  Charlotte is all sweetness.”

“There.  You share much in common with Mrs. Collins who I daresay makes a much better wife to the local vicar than Miss Bennet ever could have.”

“There we are in agreement,” Bella began, but she didn’t get to finish her thought.  Darcy leaned in and kissed her: quietly, soft, and warm.  She smiled into the kiss.  She supposed she would stop having to put her favorite novel to rights.  She seemed to be marrying Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, and she could find no other reason to object.

The End.