The Perfect Bride for Mr. Darcy by Mary Lydon Simonsen

always learned them, by trial and error, and she would know heartache and joy, success and failure, and the peaks and valleys of being in love.
    Georgiana was excited about their return to town as her brother had hired a Madame Delaine who would assist her in acquiring all the clothes and accoutrements necessary for her debut. That decision had been made after his last visit with his sister to the milliner. Seeing his growing impatience, the owner had suggested he employ Madame, who would relieve him of all such duties. Shortly thereafter, the pair began making the rounds of London’s finest shops.
    For the past year, a departure had been made in Georgiana’s education. After demonstrating a mastery of those subjects expected of a daughter of one of England’s great families, her brother had agreed to find another outlet that might possibly satisfy his sister’s seemingly insatiable curiosity about nearly everything, and she had been enrolled in Mrs. Margaret Bryan’s Academy, where she was instructed in mathematics, philosophy, and the natural sciences. Because the academy was located at Hyde Park Corner, Georgiana received her instruction in the morning and divided her afternoons between her German tutor and dancing and music masters.
    Each evening, Georgiana came into her brother’s study to tell him about her lessons, more or less to get that subject out of the way so that she might discuss the much more important things in her life, such as fabrics, bonnets, the latest styles, etc. Darcy looked forward to their evenings together and their evolving relationship. He was feeling more like a brother and less like a guardian.
    “Will, have you ever been in love?”
    Darcy was no longer surprised by Georgiana’s questions, as they were becoming a regular feature of their after-dinner conversations. When he first heard the question, he immediately thought of Elizabeth Bennet, but quickly put her out of his mind and replaced the dark-haired, dark-eyed Elizabeth with the first woman who had ever touched his heart, the beautiful Christina Caxton.
    Seven years earlier, after having finished their studies at Cambridge, Darcy and Richard Fitzwilliam had traveled to the Continent during the Peace of Amiens, a two-year interval in the wars between England and France, to begin their tour of the great cities of Europe. With letters of introduction in hand, they had traveled from one exciting destination to another, and one of their stops was at the Chateau de Crecy in Champagne where Christina had been living following the sudden death a year earlier of her husband, a British wine broker, who had foolishly walked behind a horse.
    The chemistry between Christina and Darcy was immediate and sparks flew. Five years Darcy’s senior, Christina was the perfect lover for a young man of twenty-one, who was more than willing to be educated. A pattern quickly emerged where Christina would visit a friend and suggest that an invitation be extended to Darcy and Fitzwilliam, and the affair would resume. Richard found that creating diversions so that Christina and his cousin could be together provided him with his own opportunities for romance. But it had all came to an abrupt end on the road to Pau, a spa in the south of France, when Darcy had received news of his father’s death.
    “Will, you are smiling. You have been in love,” Georgiana said, before practically jumping out of her chair and joining her brother on the sofa. “Please, Will. Tell me all about her. Please.”
    “Ah, if you insist, I shall tell you. She was like a goddess. Eyes like emeralds, teeth like pearls, skin of the purest ivory, all surrounded by a halo of gold, a walking, talking jewel case.”
    Georgiana looked at her brother and frowned. “You are teasing me.”
    Actually, that description was very close to accurate. He remembered with great fondness the last time he had seen her—every inch of her. She was standing in front of him like Botticelli’s Venus