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A/N: Yay! My story has finally reached the half way point! And it only took me nearly six years. Hopefully the next 19 to 20 chapters will not take as long. Since I don't have law school or a hectic law firm job, I should be able to update more often. I am determined to finish this!!!


Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


Love and Prejudice Chapter 19


Mary grunted and increased her grip of the bedpost as April finished tightening the laces on her stay. She did not know how women bore the restricting confines of such a garment. Mary was fairly certain that they were not good for the constitution. One’s innards were not meant to be pushed and prodded about on a whim.

“There, miss,” April noted with a sigh. “The worst bit is all done.”

Mary tried to take in a deep breath to fill the lungs she had just emptied in their effort to tighten the corset. 

“April, this shan’t do,” Mary panted. “I cannot be expected to dance when I can barely breathe.”


“But miss, all ladies wore corsets with such a dress as this.”


“Well, I shan’t,” Mary huffed.


April flinched and Mary instantly regretted her petulant tone.


“Forgive me, April. My nerves are in such a state. I have never been to so grand a ball.”


April nodded in understanding. “Perhaps I can loosen your stays, ma’am? You have such a pretty figure, I am sure you don’t need them pulled quite so tight.”


“Thank you, April. Perhaps then I won’t faint in the middle of my first set.”


The two shared a smile before April moved to oblige her mistress. When Mary could draw a full breath, they them moved on to her gown. She observed herself in the mirror afterwards, smoothing down the pink silk of her embroidered bodice as April adjusted the fabric of her skirts to fall correctly over the hoops. It was an old fashioned gown more suited to the ballrooms of forty years ago rather than a modern soiree. However, it was perfect for a masquerade. Mary adjusted her feathered eye mask as April placed a thin gold circlet atop her braided locks.


“Oh, miss,” April breathed as she stepped back to admire her work. “Don’t you look a picture?”


Mary smiled at her reflection. She could not help but to agree.



Before going down to join the rest of the family to take her place in the receiving line, Mary stopped by William’s room. She knew the young boy would just be preparing for sleep. As soon as she stepped into the room, William jumped down from his bed to run to her, ignoring the protestations of his nurse.


“I had just managed to get him into bed,” the nurse sighed as she rose to follow William who was hopping in a circle around Mary uttering exclamations about her costume.


“I’m sorry Susan. I merely wanted to say goodnight to William.”


Susan nodded curtly in reply before busying herself with tidying up the room. Mary frowned but was soon distracted by William’s excitement.


“You look beautiful, Princess Mary,” William exclaimed as he reverently stroked the fabric of her skirt.


“Do you think I look the part of a proper princess, Sir Little Bits?” Mary asked as she turned in a slow circle.


“Oh yes,” he replied with an emphatic nod of his head. “You have a crown and everything.”


“I am glad that you approve. Now, I am off to the ball and you should be off to bed.”


William pouted. “Won’t you stay and tell me one story, princess?”


“No, William. I…”


“Please, princess. A short one?”


Mary bit her lip before glancing up at Nurse Susan who stood watching the scene with a pinched look. She supposed that William would give Susan no peace should she leave without obliging him.


“Very well, Sir Little Bits. I will tell you a short one if you promise to listen to Nurse Susan and go to sleep directly.”


William opened his mouth to protest.


“Your lady demands it.”


William mumbled his consent, executing a shallow bow before Mary escorted him back to his bed.


One half hour later, Mary was making her way down the main stair towards the hall. She could already hear the excited murmur of the assembled crowd waiting for the start of the ball. Mary paused on the landing to watch the entrance of a few of their guests. Everyone was dressed very finely, ball attire embellished with large feathers, bejeweled turbans and fanciful masks. Mary smiled and bounced slightly on her toes in excitement.


“There you are Miss Farthington,” Mr. Brambles greeted her from the bottom of the stair. “My don’t you look lovely."

Mary smiled down at her friend before resuming her descent.


“You are looking very handsome yourself, Mr. Brambles,” Mary replied as she took in his turban, cloak and gilded scabbard. “You look the very part of the sheik.


Mr. Brambles laughed before taking her hand to assist her down the final step.


“And you every part the princess.” Mr. Brambles looked down at her fondly as he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “Your father would be very proud of you, Miss Farthington; very proud indeed. How far you have come from practicing your steps from your perch atop his feet.”


Mary ducked her head and smiled wistfully.


“Since he is not here to escort you in, my dear, I hope that you would afford me that honor?”


Mary squeezed his arm. “I should like that very much.”


~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Fitzwilliam stood off to the side of the drawing room observing the ball guests partaking of refreshments as he nursed a sniffer of brandy. Richard usually loved a ball, but he found himself to be full of nervous energy. His blue eyes eagerly scanned the crowd behind his black half-mask looking for his fiancée amongst the mass of people. Mary had not told him her intended costume or mask, but Fitzwilliam was confident that he would easily spot her among the costumed crowd. He, however, relished his temporary anonymity. There were already several gentlemen of a similar height and build to himself. He was sure that he would not be so easily spotted.


“Colonel Fitzwilliam!”


Richard shut his eyes against the sharp voice of Lady Letitia who had suddenly appeared at his side. He turned to greet the woman with a tight smile.


“Lady Letitia. You are looking…”Fitzwilliam pause as he took in her brightly colored mask and feathered bodice. “Quite colorful.”


“Thank you,” Letitia cooed. “I quite adore peacocks. They have such a feminine grace and beauty.”


“Did you know that the brightly colored peacocks are males? The female of the species are actually quite drab in comparison.”


Letitia’s smile fell. “Oh. I did not know that, Colonel. However, I suspect that in all of your travels it is only expected that you be knowledgeable of the exotic.”


Fitzwilliam’s smile grew tight. “Peacocks can hardly be considered exotic, madam, when they can be found traipsing about the garden of every nouveau riche socialite.”


“Well, I don’t know what can be keeping Miss Farthington,” Letitia sniffed. “Mr. Darcy refuses to let the dancing commence before she graces us with her presence. With her presumptuous behavior you would think she was the guest honor.”


Fitzwilliam’s lips quirked as she worked to prevent a smile. “Why Lady Letitia, this ball is in Miss Farthington’s honor.”


Lady Letitia’s mouth gaped and Richard could not suppress his smile. Just as Letitia appeared to recover, Richard spotted Mr. Brambles escorting Mary into the drawing room. He managed a mumbled “excuse me” before making his way through the crowd to Miss Farthington’s side. Several masked women, whom Richard soon identified as his fair cousins and Mrs. Peterson, surrounded her. The clutch of women eyed him curiously and parted as he approached. Fitzwilliam smiled before taking off his Cavalier’s hat and dropping into a low bow.


“My Lady,” he rumbled, deepening his voice as he took one of Mary’s hands and pressed his lips against it.


Beatrice and Elizabeth giggled as Mary looked on in surprise at the “stranger’s” audacity. Richard rose from his bow and replaced his hat with a satisfied smirk.


“A fitting costume choice, Princess,” Richard continued in his normal voice as he pressed her hand.


Mary recovered from her shock and laughed brightly.


“One could say the same about you, Sir Gallant. Ever the soldier, I see.”


“Yes. However, I do not make half a lovely soldier as you do a princess, Miss Farthington.”


Elizabeth cleared her throat causing Richard to finally look away from Mary to greet the others.


“Mrs. Darcy. You look very becoming,” Fitzwilliam greeted as he kissed her hand. “Gold certainly suits you.”


Elizabeth laughed. “If I were not so sensible, I’d be quite in danger of having my head turned.”


“Mrs. Peterson,” he greeted with a bow. “What a lovely goddess you make.”


Beatrice smiled.


“And Miss. Darcy,” he continued as he turned towards his cousin. “I do believe that heaven is missing one of their most beautiful angels.”


Georgiana blushed prettily.


“You certainly have not lost your silver tongue,” Darcy said as he joined them. He was dressed quite simply, his normal ball attire adorned with a silver half-mask. “If you are done charming the ladies, I have come to fetch Mary and my wife to assist me in opening the ball.”


“Then I shall await you for the first set, Princess,” Fitzwilliam said as he bowed once more to Mary.


“Ah, I am afraid that you will have to wait until the second, Richard. I have claimed Mary for the first.”


“Then I shall await Miss Farthington for the second,” Fitzwilliam replied before turning to Elizabeth with a smile. “May I have the honor of your hand for the first, Mrs. Darcy?”


“You may, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth answered with a slight curtsey before joining Mary and her husband to walk to the front of the ballroom.

Fitzwilliam stood beside Georgiana and Beatrice as Darcy welcomed his guests to Pemberley and bid them all a merry Twelfth Night.


“As some of you may be aware, the Darcy household has recently welcomed a new addition. My godfather, Lord Matthew Farthington recently passed from this world and has sent his daughter to live under my care and protection.”


Darcy paused and turned towards Mary, holding his hand out towards her. Mary shyly stepped towards him, lightly grasping his fingers as she joined him at the head of the assembly. Fitzwilliam looked on with approval as Mary held her head high amongst the whispers and murmurs that broke out over the crowd. Darcy tucked her hand into the crook of his arm before addressing the assembly once again.


“This remarkable young woman has been a most welcome addition to our household and our family. I ask you all to join me in welcoming Miss Mary Caroline Farthington to Pemberley.”


A brief silence followed before Mr. Peterson began clapping. The entire room soon followed suit. Fitzwilliam noted the brief drop in Mary’s shoulders as she turned to bestow her guardian with a small smile. Darcy returned her look before covering her hand with his own and facing the crowd once more.


“Let the dancing commence!”


With that the doors to the ballroom were thrust open and the opening strains of the orchestra filled the air. Mr. Darcy led Mary out onto the dance floor followed closely behind by Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth. Shortly, the dance floor was filled with lines of couples eagerly waiting for Mary and Darcy to begin.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Mary smiled politely as she grasped the hand of her partner, Mr. Evans. The ball was well under way and Mary had danced every set. She had danced two with Mr. Darcy, one with Derek, one with Fitzwilliam, one with Mr. Brambles and her dance card was already filled for the rest of the evening with gentlemen with whom she was not previously acquainted. She supposed that having a full dance card meant that the evening could be considered a success.


However, Mary would have been quite happy erasing all of the strangers from her dance card and limiting herself to her own intimate party. Being introduced at the start of the ball by Mr. Darcy and her natural complexion made it so that all in attendance knew her identity while she remained ignorant of theirs. As her dance with Mr. Evans was currently proving, anonymity would have been the preferable situation. As Mary’s presence at Pemberley was largely unknown outside of the great estate and those who attended their parish, everyone in attendance was very curious to know more about the famous Lord Farthington’s mysterious negro daughter. Mary had answered the most impertinent questions as vaguely and politely as possible. Mr. Evans made very little effort to conceal the fact that he was most curious about the size of her inheritance and whether or not it included a great deal of land. Once he had gained some satisfaction as to the size and limitations of her inheritance, Mr. Evans then moved on to other matters which Mary found just as offensive.


“And how came you to be under Lord Farthington’s care, Miss Farthington?” Mr. Evans asked.


Mary opened her mouth to form a reply only to be prevented by Mr. Evans.


“I heard the most extraordinary tale about a negress who had been given to a ships captain by an African king as a gift...”


Mary smiled tightly as Mr. Evans continued his “extraordinary tale” until their dance had ended. As Mr. Evans escorted her off the dance floor, Mary looked up to see Fitzwilliam waiting for her on the sidelines. She was most grateful that Fitzwilliam had thought to engage her for the dinner set.


“Enjoying yourself, Princess?” Fitzwilliam asked as he bowed over her hand.


“Quite, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Mary replied as she dropped a curtsey. “But I admit that I will enjoy the ball much more now that we are paired once more. I am already somewhat fatigued.”


“Then, we shall sit out this dance so that you might recover.”


“No,” Mary replied somewhat more loudly than she intended. “I mean, I am sure that I will have plenty of time to get my second wind during supper.”

Fitzwilliam smiled. “I am glad to hear it. I have a feeling you shall enjoy this next dance, Miss Farthington.”


“And how can you be so sure, Colonel?”


Fitzwilliam smiled as the orchestra began to play the opening strains of a waltz.


“Because you shan’t have to share me with the other ladies,” Fitzwilliam stage whispered as he led her out onto the dance floor.


~*~*~*~*~*~*


The Viscountess sipped her tea delicately as her cousin sat heavily on the settee beside her. The ladies had adjourned from the dining room for tea and conversation while the gentlemen sat down to partake of supper.


“This ball is quite tedious,” Letitia began. “The night is nearly over and I have yet to dance with the Colonel. Plus he had the audacity to dance two dances with that trollop. I could barely keep my countenance during supper, cousin. What could he have been thinking standing behind her chair with his chest puffed out. And her costume, Daniela! What nerve…”


“Letitia, please moderate your tone,” the Viscountess hissed from behind her raised teacup. She smiled beatifically at Mrs. Darwymple who has stood watching them curiously. Mrs. Darwymple sniffed and covered her face with her fan before resuming her circuit about the room.


The Viscountess rose from her seat and calmly walked to a fairly vacant corner of the room. Lady Letitia remained seated, staring at her in confusion. The Viscountess rolled her eyes before tersely waving her cousin over. Letitia started before rising and walking to join her cousin.


“Would I be correct in assuming from your outburst that you are too scandalized by the Colonel’s behavior to go through with our scheme?”


Letitia’s eyes widened and she shook her head in the negative.


“Good. Now then listen and try to do as I say, Letitia. I have paid a servant to fetch Colonel Fitzwilliam during the lull following the first set after supper. He will direct him to report to the library immediately. You shall be waiting in the library and will do as we discussed. Do you remember?”


“Of course. Rip my bodice and faint into his arms,” Letitia whispered. “But where will Mr. Darcy be? Surely Fitzwilliam will think it odd if Darcy is there in the ballroom as well.”


“I know, cousin,” the Viscountess sighed. “I will have Darcy well in hand. Just concern yourself with getting to the library and playing your part.”


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Colonel Fitzwilliam returned to the dining room from his sojourn to the water closet and scanned the room for Mr. Peterson. Derek caught his eye from across the room where he appeared to be trapped in conversation with the toady Mr. Evans. Mr. Evans was a shameless fortune hunter and, from his earlier encounter with Mary, Fitzwilliam presumed that the gentleman was currently pumping Derek for more information about his cousin. Fitzwilliam grimaced and made his way over to the pair in order to rescue his friend when a gentleman stepped in his path. Fitzwilliam made to step around him before he took note of the gentleman’s costume choice.


“It would appear that I have acquired a twin,” Fitzwilliam said by way of greeting.


“Good evening, Colonel Fitzwilliam,” the man replied with a quick bow. Fitzwilliam suppressed a grimace as he realized that the man was none other than Parson Geoffries.


“It is I, the parson,” he continued as he lifted his half mask to wink conspiratorially at the colonel.


“Yes, I had gathered as much. Is it not singular that a man of the cloth should dress as a man of arms?”


The parson laughed. “Well, it is a masquerade and I should think that even ministers of the faith are do a bit of mischief now and then. Besides, what harm could I do with a blunt rapier?”


The ringing of the bell signaling the resumption of the dancing spared Fitzwilliam the trouble of devising a polite response.


“Oh, we cavaliers must not keep the ladies waiting,” the parson exclaimed as he adjusted his half mask and made to depart the room.


Fitzwilliam stayed behind and watched the parson’s retreat.


“Saved by the bell, eh?” Derek commented as he came to a stop beside him.


Fitzwilliam snorted. “I suppose that we both were.”


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Mary curtsied to her partner, her cheeks pleasantly flushed and her chest heaving from exertion. The last dance had been a very lively number and her partner, Mr. Fulton, was pleasantly entertaining. What little chance the spirited dance gave for conversation was spent in amusing intercourse. Mr. Fulton was a very mirthful gentleman of no more than five and twenty who was determined to be pleased with everything and everyone. Mary thought it was a shame that her dance card for the night was already full. She would have very much enjoyed dancing with Mr. Fulton once more. 


“I think that we both deserve a libation after that romp,” Mr. Fulton said as he escorted her off of the dance floor. “What say you, Miss Farthington?”


“I am in complete agreement.”


“Good. Then rest here, Miss Farthington and I shall return with a restorative,” he said with a press of her hand.


Mary watched his retreat to the tables across the room before her attention was caught by the rabbit like movements of Samuel, one of Mr. Darcy’s footmen. Mary thought it odd that he should be present in the ballroom. By his dress, she knew him not to be one of the many servants assigned to see to the needs of the ball guests. They all wore matching porcelain masks and powdered wigs in keeping with the masquerade theme. Samuel’s movements steadied as his eyes came to rest on the figure of a gentleman in a large feathered black cap. She watched Samuel as he approached the cavalier. Samuel appeared to whisper something into the gentleman’s ear after which the cavalier followed him from the ballroom. Something about the situation struck Mary as peculiar and she thought to follow before she was distracted by the return of Mr. Fulton carrying two glasses punch. Mr. Fulton sat on the settee beside her and began chatting merrily about the horses he raised. Mary mentioned that she was to have her first riding lessons in the spring and the two were soon caught up in such a lively discussion that Mary soon forgot the oddity of Samuel’s appearance.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


“I believe that I was quite clear last we spoke, Lady Daniela,” Darcy explained. “Your husband is no longer welcome at Pemberley or my London home. However, should you or your son wish to call upon us, you are welcome, of course.”


The Viscountess rose from her seat and graced Mr. Darcy with her most plaintive look. “I believe that this sad business was all just a misunderstanding. Will you not at least permit the Viscount to explain his side of the story before you banish him from Pemberley?”


“Your husband admitted his indiscretion to myself and two witnesses. Furthermore, Miss Farthington is a reliable and honest woman. I trust her account completely. I have spoken my peace. Your husband will never be granted entrance to any of my homes.”


Darcy rose from his perch atop his desk. “Now if you would excuse me, I have guests to attend to.”


The Viscountess picked up her skirts and hurried to step around him, blocking his path to the door.


“I implore you to reconsider,” she cried. “ Think of the scandal that would be created if word of this unfortunate event were made public?”


“Are you threatening me?” Darcy asked incredulously.


“Heavens, no! Whatever gave you such a ridiculous notion…”


A piercing scream interrupted the Viscountess’ hasty explanation.


“Good god! Whatever could that be?” Darcy exclaimed before hurrying from the room.


The Viscountess ran into the hall after him, pausing when she realized that a small audience had gathered outside of the library doors. 


“Heavens, that sounds like Letitia,” the Viscountess declared as she clutched at her breast. 


The handful of partygoers looked on in wonder before parting to allow Mr. Darcy through. He flung open the doors and stepped into the room to find Lady Letitia clutched in the arms of a cavalier, her gown ripped cleanly across the bodice.


“What is the meaning of this?” Darcy cried.


“Colonel Fitzwilliam! What have you done?” the Viscountess demanded as she pushed past Mr. Darcy. 


The cavalier dropped Lady Letitia and began to back away from the pair.


“I…I…I assure you, Mr. Darcy that this is not what it appears,” the cavalier replied as he hastily stripped off his hat and half mask to reveal a quaking Parson Geoffries.


“You’re not the Colonel!” Letitia exclaimed as she held her tattered dress to herself.


Mr. Darcy slowly turned from the trembling parson to regard Lady Letitia. “I take it that you were anticipating the presence of my cousin?”


Letitia bit her lip and looked anxiously from Mr. Darcy to the Viscountess.


“I…I was not...that is to say,” Letitia stammered as her cheeks reddened. “Oh, Daniela! I am ruined!”


The Viscountess rolled her eyes. “Stop your blubbering, Letitia, and get up off the floor. There is nothing for it now.”


Letitia quieted at her cousin’s harsh tone before slowly getting to her feet as a pair of footmen entered the library.


“Thomas. Ben. Excellent timing,” Darcy said as he shrugged off his coat and wrapped hit around Lady Letitia’s shoulders. “Thomas, would you please escort the Viscountess and Lady Letitia to my study and ensure that they are not disturbed until I arrive.”


“Yes, sir,” Thomas replied before leading a hiccupping Lady Letitia and a fuming Viscountess from the room. 


“And Ben, please fetch Colonel Fitzwilliam from the ballroom and have him join the parson and myself here in the library. Tell him it is most urgent.”


The footman bowed before turning to do as his master bid.


“Oh, and Ben,” Darcy called after him. “I think you will find that he is the only remaining cavalier in the ballroom.”


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Mary stood beside Richard watching the departing carriage of the Viscountess, Lady Letitia and young Ronald make its way along the lane. While Mary was sorry to say goodbye to Ronald, she could only mark the departure of the conniving cousins with relief. Lady Letitia was now engaged to Parson Geoffries and the Viscountess had been thoroughly embarrassed when her ill-conceived plan had fallen apart. To think that they intended to trap Richard! Mary could only wonder why one would think it advisable to ensnare an unwilling man into matrimony. If their plan had succeeded, neither party would have found happiness in the union. However, Mary supposed that Letitia had not been seeking happiness. Mary could not conceive what Letitia had hoped to truly achieve. 


“If you had told me three weeks ago that I would be obliged to Parson Georffries, I would have called you a fool,” Richard said once the carriage had finally rolled out of sight. “And I would have laughed if you told me that I would pity him.”


Mary turned from the window to gaze up at her fiancée. She reached up and brushed an errant strand of hair off of his forehead before wrapping her arms around his waist. 


“I do not think that I could have imagined such a situation,” Mary sighed.


Fitzwilliam drew her closer to himself and dropped a kiss onto her forehead.


“And if someone had told me two months ago that I would be happily engaged to a princess, I would have said that they were mad.”


Mary smiled. “Well, you are quite mad, because I am clearly not a princess.”


“Then I suppose that you are right. You should ship me off to Bedlam because I declare that you are a princess.”


Mary laughed. “Do you know that I used to get quite cross when you called me ‘princess’? I thought you called me that to mock me.”


It was Fitzwilliam’s turn to laugh. “Well, I must admit that I called you a princess in part to tease you, but never to mock you. I got a perverse pleasure from ruffling your feathers and causing you to blush. You are rather alluring when you are put out.”


Mary frowned which earned her a chaste kiss upon the lips. 


“I know that you are quite normal,” Richard continued after they had parted. “However, I would not call what I feel for you to be common."


“Nor I what I feel for you.”


“’My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips’ red.’”


Fitzwilliam grasped her right hand in his and spun her around the landing as he continued to quote the Bard.


“‘I love to hear her speak, yet well I know that music hath a far more pleasing sound…’”


Mary snorted at this. “Why thank you.”


“I grant I never saw a goddess go,’” Fitzwilliam continued as he pressed her hand. “‘My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.’”


Fitzwilliam stopped suddenly and pulled her back into his arms. “‘And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare as any she belied with false compare.’”


Fitzwilliam looked down at her earnestly, his gaze moving between her eyes and her mouth. Mary's amused smile fell from her lips.


“I don’t know whether I should swoon or hit you,” Mary sighed.


“Then let me propose an alternative.”


Mary’s eyes fluttered close as Richard lowered his mouth to hers. Fitzwilliam grimaced as a loud cough interrupted his pursuit. 


“Yes?” Fitzwilliam tersely asked as the servant as he released Mary.


“I am sorry to disturb you, Colonel,” the footman replied. “But this letter just arrived for you.”


Mary watched as Richard took the note from the servant’s hand and ripped open the seal. A frown creased his brow as he read the letter. Mary’s anxiety grew as he looked up from the missive with a look of dismay.


“I am called back to London.”


Mary took a quick breath as she stepped towards him. “All is well, I hope? Your family?”


“No. I mean, yes. My family is well. It is not my parent’s who call me to London, but Command. I am to ride to London to meet with my general.”


“When must you leave?” Mary asked.


“At first light.”


Mary bit her lip. “We are to be parted so soon?”


Richard stuffed the letter in his pocket before taking Mary by the shoulders. “It will only be a temporary separation, Mary. You and the rest of the family will be coming to London in February. That is less than a month away.”


“That is quite a long while, Richard. It is half the time that I have known you.”


A sad smile quirked Fitzwilliam’s lips.


“Come, Mary. We will write each other often and before you know it, we shall be together once again.”


“I will write you every day.”


Fitzwilliam chuckled at this. “If you write everyday, then you shan’t have an opportunity to receive my reply before another letter is already on its way to London. And I do not think Darcy will be keen on sending riders daily between Pemberley and London to ferry our love notes back and forth.”


“I suppose he would not,” Mary sighed. “Then I shall write you as often as possible. With scented paper and pressed flowers from the hot house.”


“And I shall reply to each letter. I doubt that I’ll have access to any hot houses, but my letters will be bursting with sweet nothings.”


Mary stepped into his embrace. “I don’t require sweet nothings, although they are nice. Just write to me about your day and your thoughts. That will be enough for me.”


“My sensible Princess,” Fitzwilliam replied with a smile. 


Mary rose on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. 


“Come, let us inform Mr. Darcy so that we might prepare for your departure. Then we can spend as much time together as we can manage before you leave. While your letters will have to suffice while we are parted, I should like to look at you as much as possible before then.”


Fitzwilliam frowned. “You just want to look?”


Mary laughed and slapped him on the arm before leading him to Mr. Darcy’s study.










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