Memory: Volume 3, How Far We Have Come, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (Memory: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice) by Linda Wells Page B

laced her fingers with his.  “Mary seems a little more confident, but she is still rather overwhelmed by him.  I know that she is dying to talk to me about it all, but that will likely wait until we return and the girls are in school again.”
    “And I am conveniently at my club or buried in work.”  He chuckled and she laughed softly.  “I understand.  I expect to be cornered again by an agitated man demanding reasons for him waiting to declare his love.”
    “Do you think that they will ever be part of the social scene?” 
    “No.”  Darcy observed them.  “No more than we, I suspect, probably far less.  But it is not fair for Mary not to enjoy a taste of it, and it will do de Bourgh good to fuss over her.”
    “I think that he will do that regardless of the location.”
    “No doubt, but there is a difference in fussing before and after marriage.”  Darcy felt her gaze fix on him.  “There is love.  Before you are on such good behaviour, trying to impress, and so desperate for the slightest hint of intimacy.  It simply changes once the love is won and the secrets are revealed.”
    “Has living with me become so mundane?”  Elizabeth demanded.
    “Did I say that?”
    “It certainly sounded that way, sir.”  She huffed.
    “Sir?”  His eyes twinkled and he raised her hand to kiss.  “I love you.”
    “Not fair.”  She whispered and leaned on him.  “I love you, too.  And you do not know all of my secrets.”  His laugh made her smile and his kiss assured her that he was not in the least weary.  Their pace slowed and they were gradually passed by the other members of their party.  “Is there a hurry to return?”
    “What do you have in mind?”  He smiled down at her.  “It is Sunday.”
    “Oh Will, I only wish to sit on a bench with you.”  She pinched his arm. “Look there is one just outside of the gate for Rosings.  Shall we try it?” 
    Darcy looked at her closely and his brow creased.  He noticed that she was pale, and realized suddenly the way that she had been leaning on him, it was affectionate, but somehow it now compared to a person needing support.  Suspicion began to prick at his thoughts.  “Of course love, take a seat.”  He helped her down and they rested together. 
    Georgiana looked back over her shoulder and stopped.  “They are sitting.” 
    The rest of the party stopped to look.  “Is she ill again?”  Mary asked worriedly. 
    “Again?”  De Bourgh asked.
    “She felt poorly at Hunsford.”  Charlotte murmured without thinking and saw Mrs. De Bourgh shake her head.  Quickly, Charlotte explained.  “Bad cake, we thought.”
    “Oh.”  Michael frowned. “Should we check on them?”  Collectively they retraced their steps and had almost reached the bench when a barouche driving from the village stopped.  “Lady Catherine.” 
    “Taken by surprise.”  De Bourgh watched.  “I thought we were safe until this afternoon, what with her attending services in Fenwick now.  Come on, reinforcements may be necessary.”  They watched Darcy and Elizabeth bow to her and the sound, if not the words, of his deep voice.  They arrived in time to hear Lady Catherine’s reply.
    “He is risen indeed.”
    Darcy turned to Elizabeth and began, “May I introduce . . .”
    Lady Catherine interrupted, “So you have come at last.  Your upbringing failed you, neglecting your blood like this for well over a year.  I presume that my letters were lost.”  Darcy said nothing, refusing to let her provoke him, and privately fuming at her rudeness towards his wife.  “I have heard a great deal about the disgraceful occurrences in London, Darcy.”  She sniffed.  “The Darcy name in the papers, on the tongues of society.  Your father would be appalled.  My sister would be ashamed.”
    “Fortunately the man responsible lies in his unmarked grave, Aunt, and society has moved on to fresher fodder.”  He said coldly.  “We do not dwell in