Switched Read online

  “Was it on purpose, Aunt?” Elizabeth continued – demanding, lost, angry. “Did you – with full knowledge – ignore your clients' requests that you may cause your nieces' happiness?”

  The new possibility shook every principle in his mind.

  “Did you – then, perhaps afraid or angry or remorseful – choose afterwards to undo your actions and ruin whatever happiness we had already found?”

  Elizabeth's voice, high and distant, reverberated as if it belonged to a goddess – a very angry goddess.

  “Aunt Gardiner, please – I must know! Jane and I and our tears, and pain, and lies to each other – how could you have allowed it? Our beloved aunt, you –”

  “Enough!” Mrs. Gardiner bellowed, pulling herself to the tallest yet. The crowds, and the couples, fixed their eyes upon her small form. Darcy nearly felt compassion for the other couples tonight, whose romantic evening was in the process of being vividly and thoroughly sullied. “I shall bring you four to the Constable himself. He shall decide what we make of you.”

  Darcy, Bingley, Elizabeth, and Jane each held their tongue.

  “Come along, let us go – before Elizabeth insults me to my face again.”

  Chapter 12

  It was a different room this time. Gone was the intimate, candlelit space of the initial exchange. Gone was the publicity of the meeting house. Here, tucked away at the back of it all, was the Constable's court.

  Her heartbeat, frantic and uneven, nearly drowned out Aunt Gardiner's voice. Her heightened peripheral consciousness caused her to hear at least every other word Aunt Gardiner whispered to the Constable – her story peppered with fragmented descriptions of their unique situation.

  The thankful half of her heart relished the opportunity to meet the Constable at all; the bitter half protested that this entire meeting would have been rendered unnecessary, if Aunt Gardiner had not made her mistake at all.

  Fitzwilliam's hand gripped hers, and she relented slightly. It was their matchmaker's actions that led them to each other – and that was a fact she would never despise.

  “A switch, you say, madam?” The Constable, groggy and limp on his chaise, seemed to have heard but three words on the entire ordeal.

  “It seems to be a possible solution,” Aunt Gardiner replied, her back to the couples.

  Jane barely stood at her place, and remained mostly upright only by the way she splayed upon Mr. Bingley's chest. It was scandalous, most thoroughly, the way she clung to her former groom – particularly since said groom reciprocated with an embrace three times tighter than hers. Elizabeth wondered, only fleetingly, if she would act in a similar fashion if she also had swooning spells to profess.

  “All will be well,” Fitzwilliam whispered by her ear. Her entire being was warmed, comforted by his easy confidence.

  His confidence was, of course, unfounded, having no reason whatsoever upon which to stand.

  And yet she hoped, with all her heart, that he was correct.

  “Whose bride?” The Constable's gruff, slurred voice hinted at slightly more comprehension than he had possessed the previous moment.

  Elizabeth sighed. Fitzwilliam stood closer.

  Almost suddenly, she wished she had her own excuses for casting herself upon his person.

  “So each man has had his chance with not one, but both women?” Illumination seemed to dawn upon the fat, delirious man at last, though with its own dose of stupefaction. “Is this the sort of arrangement where two men indulge each other's wives upon occasion? All that sort of nonsense may well be –”

  “No!” Fitzwilliam was quick to protest, when it became clear that Aunt Gardiner would not. Elizabeth drew closer to him still. “I swear, by the love of God, I have not even touched –”

  “Yes, yes, well, it's all bloody good and proper then, eh?” Despite his authority, the Constable acted with little of it, giggling as he spoke, “With two such scowling faces, 'tis not surprising you men aren't charmed.”

  Fitzwilliam moved forward again, fists clenched. Elizabeth's anger, barely controlled, resulted at least in a stronger grip to draw him back.

  “Well, well, let's not be so hasty now, shall we?” Every laugh resulted in the rising and falling of the Constable's inflated belly. “If each of you dislike the woman you have so much, then you truly ought to have revoked sooner. It's all bloody messy when one waits until the second meeting.”

  “We have not –” Elizabeth began alongside Fitzwilliam – before both their words fell empty.

  Could they risk exposing Aunt Gardiner's mistake?

  Would revealing said mistake help their cause at all?

  She shuddered at the unwelcome thought of not having had her first two weeks with Fitzwilliam. Could she truly blame her aunt for inadvertently providing them to her?

  It grieved Elizabeth, every time, when she recalled that it had been the men and their own foolish words that had caused these entanglements to have occurred in the first place. It had been foolish of Bingley and Darcy to speak so certainly of women they did not know.

  But was four lifetimes of suffering a fair price to pay?

  “Have not what?” the Constable asked, eyes now trained on her. It was perhaps uncommon for a woman to be as outspoken as she – but she had not thought her short outburst to warrant such attention.

  She inhaled deeply, plotting every word – when the man she loved spoke instead.

  • • •

  “I dare not speak for my friend and bride,” Darcy spoke every word with calculated command, “But I have never even entered Miss Bennet's chambers nor touched her in any way inappropriate between individuals in public. The title she has held for the six weeks past has been in word alone with little truth. Miss Bennet – is not my wife.”

  “Miss Bennet, you say?” The incompetent fool of a Constable mumbled on his elevated platform. If he had but the right, how Darcy longed to sack the man to his senses! “Which one, you see, since it is a delicate matter tonight, of all nights.”

  Darcy sighed under his breath. Elizabeth clung still on his arm, and her raging emotions fueled his.

  Yet, still, remain calm they must.

  To his right, a flushed Bingley continued to shuffle in his spot, clearly struggling to support Miss Bennet's weight. The woman, whatever title she may bear, had clearly gone cold.

  Darcy found but little room in his heart left for pity tonight.

  “Miss Jane Bennet – has stayed in Pemberley these weeks,” he spoke with difficulty, unwilling yet required to explain himself to this officer of the law. “She has born the title of Mrs. Darcy only in name.”

  “And you, sir?” The Constable turned his nose towards the other pair.

  “Me? Sir? Me – oh, Jane, darling – I have to; please forgive me. I did not mean to –”

  “Mr. Bingley,” the pudgy man repeated, “have you had the opportunity to complete with your wife? Is tonight's fiasco a mere reaction to an unhappy roll in the hay? One must say –”

  “Sir!” Darcy cried, angry once more. How could the man speak as he did, in the very presence of the ladies he discussed? “Your assumptions, sir, are entirely unfair. This whole circumstance has proven –”

  “I have not!” Bingley cried, straightening to the best of his ability with the weight on his chest. Darcy felt Elizabeth draw closer, nearly pressing upon his person. He welcomed the touch. “Every word Darcy has sworn about Jane – I echo with regards to Elizabeth.”

  Darcy felt, rather than saw, Elizabeth's blush – and he quickly turned his body to hug her close.

  “I find it rather hard to believe, sir.” The Constable had the nerve to declare. “You see, virgins never exist at the second meeting. Such close quarters and such long days – you would have me believe these pairings unconsummated?”

  “Yes,” all three lucid individuals were quick to reply.

  “And these two ladies – sisters, you say – remain untouched?”

  “Yes,” all said again.

&nbs
p; “No kisses, no dalliance, no wandering hands?”

  “Sir! I beg your pardon, you speak of –” Darcy's own words faltered. His denial of any such conduct between himself and Jane may have been entirely true.

  He could not, however, promise the same regarding the woman in his arms tonight.

  He held Elizabeth close, heart breaking at the possibility of any wrongdoing being attributed to her. With their current hearing, it was highly possible that their mismatched pairings might be dissolved.

  Whether or not they would be permitted to pursue friendships – nay, relationships – with their hearts' true loves remained to be seen.

  Would Elizabeth be taken away from him and from Bingley alike – only to be paired to another man?

  His heart nearly rent in two at the devastating thought, but still he swore himself to lifelong celibacy – if her kisses in the lake, library, and garden were to be the only ones he would ever know.

  “Mr. Constable,” Bingley began to say behind him. Darcy turned slightly to hear. “Would a restoration to our initial exchange be permitted – since there has been no completion?”

  “No completion,” the large man muttered. Darcy's heart nearly skipped beats.

  “Sir, our testimonies are of accord. Darcy and I, Jane and Elizabeth – we have done nothing of reproach. Our behavior has –”

  Bingley stopped when Darcy met his eye.

  For two, long, revelatory moments, the best of friends searched each other's thoughts in total silence. There had been no consummation, no physical union of any sort between the couples formally. But had there been of other kinds? With sudden epiphany, Darcy noted the panic and guilt, then confidence and fierce intent that pervaded Bingley's eyes. He knew, they both knew, they had not used their own brides ill.

  None of their carefully selected words, however, alluded to another man's bride.

  Had Bingley and Jane known passions akin to the ones shared between him and Elizabeth? Had they done less – or more? Had there been moments when he, unguarded, had indulged in his own emotions without noticing similar activity in the lives so close around his?

  The thought brought anger and guilt.

  Then it brought relief.

  “Sir,” Darcy turned towards the Constable – Elizabeth in his arms and heart. His voice filled with hope, strength. “I request, most respectfully, that Mr. Bingley's words be honored. There shall be no resolution acceptable, sir, save the one we have proposed.”

  “A request to separate two couples – that the individuals therein may be united to others?” The Constable scoffed. “Why, the thought is unheard of! This is not a first meeting, with rights and contracts, sir. This meeting is your second. Are we to sully the ladies' reputation and treat them as women no better than whores?”

  “Sir! Your language begs correction! There is no scenario –”

  “To take two men's wives and switch them for the other? I fail to see how your professions alone lend just cause to tearing such couples apart.”

  “No, sir!” Elizabeth spoke then, livid and focused. Darcy, and perhaps everyone else. looked at the woman with quiet awe. Her resolute gaze fixed firmly upon the bumbling Constable. “We do not ask that you dissolve the couples before you.”

  • • •

  She felt all eyes instantly on her person. Where Fitzwilliam's gaze worried and hoped, Mr. Bingley's wondered and pleaded. Aunt Gardiner herself remained frozen in place, rapt in attention. The Constable's lazy eyes did not appear quite as lazy as they had before.

  “Sir, with all due respect.” She stepped forward slightly, her shoulders still encased in her lover's hands. She breathed slowly; spoke deliberately. “We do not ask that you do what you cannot do.”

  Fitzwilliam breathed in sharply. Her own heart struggled to still. The dull lighting of the room nearly turned black by the sheer force of her determination.

  “You cannot dissolve couples, sir, when they do not exist,” she concluded, strength in every word. Her clenched fists trembled subtly by her sides. Her breath, warm inside her, blew through her lips as cold as if exhaled upon a wintry morning. “Four individuals stand before you – none fully attached to another. There is nothing to dissolve, sir.”

  “You would have me believe the ladies would correlate the men's claims?”

  “Every word.” She stood tall against her unexpected adversary. “No completion, consummation, or intimacy of any kind has been exchanged between each ill-fated bride and groom. Mere words have been limited. How could one refer to such empty unions as coupledom of any kind?”

  The Constable paused before nodding – slowly then sagely. Bated breaths abounded.

  “Mrs. Gardiner – have you much to say?” The old man, sprawled atop his flattened chaise, asked without turning his gaze. “You brought these individuals together, and you restored them each according to the names upon the contracts. Do you condone this bewilderment – this request for another switch?”

  “I – I dare not presume, sir.” Aunt Gardiner, for the first time in Elizabeth's young life, put on an appearance of shame. “The need to rectify my own mistake had clearly resulted in further turmoil for all parties involved. I dare not assume ability to discern what arrangements would improve their current predicaments.”

  “Then you should do as we have said,” Fitzwilliam spoke then, moving forward with Elizabeth in tow. His voice carried a hint of hope renewed. “Mrs. Gardiner herself professes her lack of knowledge. Mr. Bingley and I – Elizabeth and Jane – we stand before you, sir, with but one request.”

  “One request?” The Constable both laughed and scoffed. “I could hardly call your petition –”

  “One simple word, sir – and you ensure the happiness of all parties,” Elizabeth pleaded.

  “And this is no request of skittish, fickle minds?” The man queried, openly considering at least. “Your actions, unspurred until the very night of your confirmation, begs the question clearly. If I were to permit this switch, shall I be requested to meet the same four individuals a fortnight hence – all entreating me to allow their escape from their new confines?”

  “No!” The three fully conscious individuals, one still carrying an unconscious one, cried all at the very same moment.

  “There are no new pairings planned until the following season,” the Constable continued, “any permission I grant shall have to be tightly guarded in secrecy, lest more unhappy couples make excuses of their farcical marriages.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I grant my permission with one, sole condition – that this new arrangement be treated as if it were the foremost of new exchanges. Every individual in the exchange, regardless of gender, may choose to revoke the pairing upon the new first meeting – which we shall stage in this very room a fortnight hence. The alternative to revoke or to maintain remains the sole right of every couple until then – unless, of course, they have completed.”

  “Yes, sir.” The unison voices grew slightly softer.

  The Constable nodded, with groggy eyes and layered chins. Elizabeth thought her heart ready to burst into flames in a mere ten seconds.

  “Very well.” The man inhaled deeply – then proceeded to recite the age-old words, “Please – direct yourselves to your partners wholeheartedly, observe and care. May your hearts and persons be open and honest to the discovery of how your fates entwine.”

  Elizabeth's feet nearly buckled beneath her, all strength lost in this onslaught happiness.

  “You may take your new brides home, good sirs. I shall see you all a fortnight hence.”

  • • •

  The sudden streak of emotions inside him – thrill, disbelief, shock, elation – both warmed and chilled him within the stifling confines of the Constable's court. Darcy, with Elizabeth still ensconced in his arms, barely breathed.

  “He said yes,” Elizabeth whispered against his collar.

  He nodded mutely, pulling her closer still. Her arguments had been their final plea – her words the
ir salvation. What the Constable found skeptical in men, he believed in women – and his beloved's testimony had dealt the final blow.

  He could hardly believe their good fortune.

  Dying noises from the other side of the wooden walls indicated a fast-dissipating crowd. The sighs of admiration and the gasps over scandal had, thank goodness, dwindled at last. The Constable himself had limped out the back door towards his own home. Only Darcy, Elizabeth, Bingley, Jane, and Mrs. Gardiner remained in the room – their solidarity unharmed by their lack of solitude.

  “Jane, we shall be home – together,” Bingley whispered tenderly to the lady in his arms.

  The tears in Darcy's eyes could be of empathy or relief. He frankly had no spare strength to decide upon which it was.

  “We are blessed,” Elizabeth whispered into his chest.

  “Yes,” Darcy cried, happy, “very much so.”

  They stood where they did, neither making move to depart. The passion both had injected into their arguments and proposals had been replaced by the reward of serenity. They panted, still one against the other. Their hearts throbbed as wildly as they had before.

  Many things remained the same.

  Many things – the important ones – had been incredibly altered.

  “Shall we go?” Darcy heard Bingley ask behind him.

  It was clearly impossible for the new Mrs. Bingley to speak in her current state – but Darcy heard Mrs. Gardiner assist Bingley nonetheless. That permission – they clearly had.

  It did not take long for the aunt and the conscious niece to mumble their strained goodbyes, and the Bingleys slipped out of the room with their matchmaker.

  Darcy cradled Elizabeth against his body, relishing their newfound solitude. She yielded willingly under his arms.

  This was not the place for fiery displays of passion. He knew that fact well enough. They could wait. They had Pemberley, they had them, they had – oh the joys they would share in this chapter of new life!

  The promise of a life with her – a life so far unlike what he had dreaded over when first coming to town tonight – filled him with hope and gladness. Bleak visions of a loveless future, of a pairing ill conceived, disappeared from his mind like melting snow. He held spring in his arms tonight, and he was about to bring spring to his home.