The Perfect Bride for Mr. Darcy by Mary Lydon Simonsen Page A

telling him it was time for him to leave while it was still dark. He had convinced her to return to bed, and they had made love again and fell into a deep sleep with his body conforming to hers. When he left that morning, he had no idea that was the last time he would ever see her.
    “Why do you say that I am teasing you? Cannot my first love be as beautiful as Helen of Troy or at least as handsome as some of the women in the novels you read?”
    When Will found himself at the age of twenty-two to be the guardian of a thirteen-year-old girl, he had immediately sought the advice of Georgiana’s namesake, the Duchess of Devonshire, a friend of his late mother’s. One of Her Grace’s recommendations was to allow Georgiana free rein in the Pemberley library. As a result, she had read everything from Aristotle to the godless Voltaire and the revolutionary Thomas Paine, but she had also read The Mysteries of Udolpho and other gothic novels. He had to bite his tongue when he had found her reading The Insider , a gossip magazine he despised, especially since he had been included in its pages. The writer had hinted that Darcy would shortly make an offer of marriage to Letitia Montford. Although Letitia was intelligent and accomplished, with a pleasant disposition, she lacked the one thing he greatly prized in a lady: a sparkling wit. The only person who had met his ideal was Elizabeth Bennet.
    “Was there really someone as beautiful as Helen of Troy in your life? I mean were you really in love with such a creature?”
    “Yes, I was in love with such a creature, but so was every other young man who crossed her path. She was kind enough not to tell us we were all making fools of ourselves. When the armistice between France and England fell apart, the widowed Mrs. Caxton was detained as an enemy alien. I later learned that she had decided to remain in France and married a Frenchman. That, my dear, is the end of the story.”
    “How disappointing! It would have been much more interesting if you and she had been desperately in love, and it was only because of Napoleon’s armies that you were unable to be together. You would have searched for her everywhere, but of course, you could not find her because of the war. And when you learned of her marriage, it broke your heart, and you never recovered from the loss of your one true love.”
    “Good grief, Georgiana!” and he changed his tone of voice, letting her know that this conversation had come to an end.
    Georgiana knew she could press her brother only so far, or he would retreat into silence. She went over and kissed him on the cheek and said “good night,” but before letting her go, her brother counseled her, “Georgiana, love is as complex an emotion as exists. There are many reasons why love does not prosper. I was once told by an intelligent lady that ‘one bad sonnet’ was sufficient to drive love away. So the waters are perilous, and you would do well to know that, because unlike your novels, not every story has a happy ending.”
    ***
    The next evening, when Georgiana joined her brother at the dining table, he was preoccupied with a letter he had received in the afternoon post. Because his brow was furrowed, Georgiana assumed it was a business letter and that he was not happy with its contents, but that was not the case. The letter was from Anne.
    “Anne wants to come to London and possibly continue on to Pemberley.”
    “Will, that is such good news. Why do you look displeased?”
    “It is not that I am displeased. It is that Anne never comes to London before late May. The air is too dirty, and with her weak lungs, it puts her health in jeopardy. And as for Pemberley, she has not been there in two years because the journey is so arduous.”
    “But I think it is wonderful she wants to come. You know we have had a very mild winter and, thus far, a beautiful spring, and you said she looked very well when you were in Kent. But I wonder why Aunt Catherine is allowing