Chapter One

Just As You Are

Okay, do not panic, Amanda. Keep smiling and think naked. Think them all bare-assed.

Targeting each individual as she made her way to the front of the assembly room, Amanda realized the technique to ease stage fright was not working. Being bamboozled into providing the entertainment, she now wished that Mr. Collins' four brothers had been invited.

Picturing the brothers in their various, ashen shapes might have hiked her confidence enough not only to sing but also inspire her to become the very first stand-up, comic to grace the imposing assembly room of Pemberley. But sadly, no Probity, Elysium, Canaan, or Cymbal, also known as Tinkler, to alleviate the anxiety building with each step Amanda took forward.

Okay, time to panic.

Unlike the audience of three at Netherfield Hall when she first displayed her lack of instrumental and vocal talents, this crowd was many; most considered the elite in society. This certainly heightened the pressure not to humiliate the host, who just happened to be, for the past, three glorious weeks, her unofficial boyfriend.

Passing close to the point of no return, Amanda knew the decision to fake a faint or, for a more dramatic effect, crumple to the floor in an epileptic fit of convulsions, had to be made to get out of her current predicament. But she was a lousy pretender, and doubted she could keep a straight face, so the point passed leaving no further avenues for escape.

Then Amanda caught sight of the one person who could resuscitate her dying nerves and restore her fading imagination with vigor. Reapplying the visualization technique, she scanned his tall frame appreciatively, and her forced smile suddenly became genuine.

Nice! Now, that's more like it.

Pirhana almost got it right comparing him to a Greek statue. More like Poseidon, god of the sea, rising up holding his trident in one hand and commanding tidal waves and storms with the other. Of course, she was in the picture as his chosen mythical goddess, sitting on a nearby rock island, slapping her large, scaled tail on the water, cheering on his authority.

He returned her surveillance, scrutinizing her as she moved, however, not like a stuck-up judge from a talent show, but as a hot-blooded man who desired the woman he adored. It helped to think she was not the only person visually undressing and appreciating what they saw.

This incredible man believed her gorgeous, exciting, and exceptionally clever. The fact he also thought her a gifted vocalist verified his bias as well. With that said, when they were alone together, she did not feel the need to pretend; she could be the Amanda Price from the twenty-first century. He loved her just as she is, making his opinion the only one that mattered.

The proof of the pudding is in the eating, or in her case, after the eating, when Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Master of Pemberley, made the announcement he did less than an hour before.

After the fine dinnerware had been cleared and the crystal filled with celebratory drink, Mr. Darcy rose from his chair and asked all to raise their glasses to toast the future Mistress of Pemberley, Miss Amanda Dawn Price of Hammersmith.

Darcy spoke the words proudly, laced with deep sincerity and a tinge of humility, while affectionately peering down at his declared companion for life.

Amanda felt like an actor in a period drama mini-series, made ready and dressed for her scene. Attired in the prettiest of her new wardrobe—a moss green frock with a lacy outer bodice—with hair done up proper, curled in a becoming style with tendrils dangling, she never felt so beautiful and admired in her life.

Yet, the booming voice of the Director shouting cut never came, nor did the set changes, hair and makeup touch-ups, or the clamor of the cast and crew in between scenes. Neither was she walking off the stage as the understudy, and Elizabeth Bennet taking her place to finish the act.

This was really, really happening.

Real as it was, it did not stop her muffled ouch as she pinched herself for what seemed the millionth time. Next thing she knew, Amanda felt Darcy's warm breath speaking intimately in her ear.

"If what you seek is a physical confirmation this is not fictitious, madam, then wait until I have you to myself."

Delightful shivers coursed up and down her spine, and before she could respond, Darcy stood tall and raised his glass.

"To my future wife," he exclaimed, provoking the cheering of her name and the sound of clinking crystal.

Sitting down he leaned, touching his shoulder to hers, to speak intimately for her ears only.

"Who has opened my eyes to another world other than my own, thus revealing an improved version of the man in both with her affections."

Amanda dropped her lips to say those three words in reply, but nothing came out except a weak chirp from the back of her throat. Saying I love you hardly seemed enough when she felt so much more. So, her hand found the top of his, letting the contact and the welling tears do the speaking for her.

Comprehending her meaning fully, Darcy responded by gathering her fingers, lifting to linger a kiss upon them, while gazing seriously into her eyes, causing her mouth to start quivering.

Seeing his actions were jeopardizing her composure, he turned away to acknowledge the well-wishers on his other side, subtly moving her hand under the table to rest on his lap, entwining his fingers with hers to keep their connection. He could not know what that simple gesture of holding her hand meant to her.

Blinking the moisture away, Amanda focused her attention on the crowd of guests, curious to observe their reactions to the surprise announcement.

Most she did not know personally being they were neighboring masters and mistresses, lords and ladies, and dignitaries. No doubt, a snobbish bunch by their whispered chatter and mixed array of unflattering glares in her direction. This told Amanda they had no idea Mr. Darcy's attachment had reached such heights to the curious girl of questionable birth and social status.

Indeed, each person probably thought such an illustrious man could do much better in his choice. Particularly, Caroline Bingley, who sat stiffly silent with a soured expression plastered on her face.

Even with the indignity of the broken engagement with Darcy, Amanda knew Caroline's sole purpose in accepting the invitation was to make another try for him, or at the flip of the coin, make a play for yours truly.

No matter what the case may be, Miss Bingley, the newly branded Shark Spice, was dead in the water.

Once she reached the front of the room, Amanda slowly turned to face the waiting audience, remembering to stop the nervous chewing of her bottom lip.

People made fools of themselves every day, but not so literally. Over the past several weeks in Austen's literary creation, she proved this true with her inability to adapt to the rules and conduct of the earlier society. Because of this, she had become proficient in the fine art of being embarrassed.

Amanda was convinced that eventually she would evolve from negative notoriety to one of famed eccentricity in her daily bouts of humiliation. The vision of the little Asian man auditioning Ricky Martin's 'She Bangs' for America's idol show immediately popped into her mind.

Wait! Do I know the lyrics? She bangs, she bangs, when she moves, she moves…um…crap.

Shoulders slumping, she did not; only the simple chorus came to mind.

Perhaps, it was for the best. The male peacocks in the room would not tolerate such assumptions of feminine masculinity, ruffling their feathers, and disturbing their rigid hens to cluck out eggs for the morning quiche.

For the most part, the lyrics might be misconstrued as highly unconventional for the early nineteenth century, imagining a woman on a hunt, banging out grouse and moving to haul the dead fowl in from the field.

So, now what?

In doing a frantic inventory of the songs where she knew the lyrics, Amanda found the count stopped at two. Of course, both were very inappropriate for the period.

One song was immediately eliminated. Thanks to the sequel to Bridget Jones Diary, Madonna's 'Like a Virgin' had repeatedly been playing in her head, particularly when Darcy took her into his arms and kissed her wobbly. It was safe to say that bellowing out she felt like a virgin being touched for the very first time would not be a crowd pleaser. It left her only alternative, which was the lesser of the two evils, nonetheless, still sure to raise some eyebrows.

Rolling her eyes in disgust, she felt the goal of pulling off an entire twenty-four hours in Georgian England without a single cock-up was about to be called as unsuccessful. Such a disappointment, she thought, when she was so close.

Feeling like Bill Murray's character in Groundhog Day, after many attempts at trying, failing and resetting for the next morning, Amanda was positive she finally did it. As the minutes ticked away, the objective became more attainable at being the picture-perfect painting of a proper lady of grace and charm.

Amanda never worked so mentally hard in her life, but the satisfaction she felt was euphoric. All day she oozed polished refinement and charisma. With Darcy's guests, she was equal to the task to being perceived as highly well spoken and amusing, using a series of practiced, difficult words. She was not a bizarre ornament on Mr. Darcy's arm; she was a fascination.

With arms lifted in the air in pending triumph, she was within feet of breaking through the finish line tape to claim her trophy day, but due to the mouth of a particular person, she had been abruptly shoved off the running track, robbing her of her win. Her hard-fought moment in the sun was about to come to a screeching halt.

Squinting eyes skimmed the back of the room, locking on the instigator of her situation. There he was, leaning casually on the door's frame, arms crossed, and a rather pleased expression on his face.

Yeah, Wickham, you better stay close to the exit.

Trapped to perform, and all because of him. To make it worse, she had to sing a-cappella again. Having no instruments to drown out the noise pollution surely to come out of her mouth, certainly added to her apprehension. Standing before the crowd, what she would not give to have electricity and a Karaoke machine in the house.

Yes, Wickham was in for a great deal of hurt for this. Nothing she would like do more was to plaster a big strip of duck tape to cover his smug pie hole to keep it shut.

However, no duck tape or Karaoke machines, nor electricity. It was times like this frustration hit her the most. Not because she missed having these things or wished she was back in her time. No, Amanda's reasoning was simple. These items would help considerably in her determination not to humiliate the man she loved in front of people who admired and respected him the most.

The truth of it, she did not want this perfect day for herself. She wanted it for Darcy.

Balling her fists, Amanda let a stream of obscenities run through her mind, before freezing in panic. Did she just swear aloud? No, she did not. Good, she was progressing.

When she first came to Austen's world, cursing came out naturally as sneezing when she realized the invention of something had not occurred. In particular, the things made specifically for women.

Amanda had to admit that in those first weeks, her fantasies did not focus on Mr. Darcy, for the reason he was behaving like an arrogant ass, but instead on the pharmaceutical around the corner from her flat.

In her dreams, everything one finds in a modern-day loo replaced the void where Mr. Darcy was supposed to be, including lotions and creams, shampoo and body wash, toothpaste and mouthwash, feminine products, and the most coveted, the latest celebrity gossip tabloids.

All changed when her ideal, Mr. Darcy, straight out of the pages of Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice, started to make an appearance after he figured out what was in his heart and took her into his arms. Glancing his way, with eyes softening and worshipping every bit of him, she would not, could not, exchange him for anything or anyone.

With him by her side, Amanda felt she could happily live on a desolate island. Darcy would be Tom Hanks in Cast Away, and she his cherished volleyball buddy, Wilson, only lovelier with improved conversation and better hair.

Thinking of Darcy all Tarzan-like, in a loincloth and bronzed body, spearing sushi for her in the crystal blue lagoon, was painting a funny picture, but it did not diminish the definition of a paradise. These past weeks and the times spent alone together, was what she could now describe as their Eden.

Yes, duck tape and bathroom toiletries aside; she would, as Darcy once said to her, harrow hell to be with him. A form of this hell included a world without the Darcy family's wealth, luxury estate, and servants catering to her every need. Fortunately, a strange destiny had allowed these extravagances to be available to her. Who was she not to take full advantage of them?

Ogling her handsome and sexy, period drama fiancé, she wanted everyone in the room to disappear so she could partake in some serious post-announcement snogging.

Everyone included Darcy's cousin, Miss Anne de Bourgh, whose mother, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, was sensibly excluded from the invitation list. Mousey was spot on as described by others, for Anne did not speak a word all night except for the startled squeak that she uttered after the announcement was made.

Accompanying Anne was Darcy's other cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was a pleasant enough fellow, Amanda thought. Upon meeting the bachelor, she immediately went into Emma mode. Lydia or Kitty? No, Mary is the one. The underdog. A long shot, Amanda knew, but she always did like a challenge.

Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were present along with Mr. and Mrs. Gardner, to whom she was finally able to make acquaintances. Like the book and all the mini-series adaptations, the Gardner's were kind and very likable.

But poor Mrs. Bennet was clearly distressed by the news Mr. Darcy was no longer obtainable for one of her daughters. Not to be heartless, but to Amanda, to say that she was sorry would be a flat-out lie.

In all fairness, nobody could blame her for Elizabeth's reckless decision to bar the portal door, preventing her from returning to the flat's loo. Also, she really did try hard to fix the storyline even after she had fallen for Darcy. It was completely unintentional that instead of three daughters married at the end of Austen's novel, the Bennets only had one daughter technically married, mercifully to be annulled.

Besides, who would have ever believed Mr. Darcy would fall in love with her and her with him, leading to an engagement? It certainly buggered-up the plot in regards to the checking off another Bennet daughter exiting the nest.

On the other hand, Amanda took comfort in knowing Mrs. Bennet had no idea she would have had three daughters married instead of one at the end of the story. Otherwise, there would be hell to pay.

Mrs. Jane Collins was present, now scandalously separated from her husband, and had taken up residence with the Gardner's until the reversal of the whole marriage debacle happened.

Rounding off the people she knew was the Bingley party of four. To be sure, the brother, who was hovering like a honeybee around the blooming Jane, was worth ten times more than his sisters and brother-in-law.

Seeing Charlie and Jane exchange doting glances at each other, Amanda was very thankful that narrative had been repaired. So what they would have to evade social humiliation and disgrace by sailing to the Americas. After all, America was, at this time, a land of opportunity, and it was a good thing Amanda paid attention during her history lessons.

Playing the spot-on psychic, she clued Bingley in that it was in his best interest to head to the Northwest, to avoid most of the upheaval coming between the North and South. She also advised him to invest in anything dealing with railroads and gave him a heads up on a certain location in California—Sutter's Mill could easily become Bingley's Mill in the history books.

Amanda would not be surprised if the reluctant transplants from Britain ended up the wealthiest family in North America. All thanks to her.

Absolution, to be sure.

Darcy asked for her hand in marriage the moment after their first partaking of affections in the highly sophisticated gardens of Pemberley three weeks before. Elation and happiness engulfed Amanda, and she wanted desperately to say yes, but the extraordinary circumstances had her reluctantly putting him off.

Surprise followed by hurt was in Darcy's expression, but he said he understood why she must think carefully about her decision, given the unique situation of determining what era, past or future, she could conceivably accept to spend the rest of her days a part of.

Darcy then took up her hand and brought it to his lips, saying he would wait, with all patience and optimism, for her to give him her answer. Until such time, she would remain at Pemberley as an honored guest.

Since then, Darcy had been an attentive host and a complete gentleman. For the most part, he reverted to his aloof decorum and unbending integrity. Frankly, it just drove her batty. Being a girl that needed physical reinforcement of his affections, Amanda seriously considered walloping him each time he bowed his head to her in detached acknowledgment.

Though, he could not fool her. His predatory eyes spoke of what he really wanted to do when she was near to him. Amanda daydreamed of him ensnaring and having his way with her. She was sure Darcy had a bad boy streak waiting to be released, but currently, he had this distinguished, bobble-head thing too well ingrained to let it break free.

Oh, she got little bites from him, discretely, here and there, but nothing like that earth moving, first round of physical discovery they shared together on the now, sacred site on the gallery overlooking the grounds of Pemberley.

So, was this nauseatingly, respectful behavior towards her on purpose? Probably. Was he suffering as much as she was? Undoubtedly. Two weeks later, Amanda knew she had to give him an answer to stop each of their torment. Either love him or leave him.

Then one afternoon, the stark answer presented itself clearly to her.

Her decision to marry Darcy was not based upon what she could live without from the technologically and materialistically advanced future, but whether or not a proud, English gentleman, could love an obtrusive, child-like woman, who just happens to not be a maid, for the rest of his life.

Amanda was trying her best to conform to the period, but she knew she could never be like any of the Bennet sisters. It was very difficult to step back from designer jeans with an attitude, into conservative dresses as a submissive woman. How long would it be before Darcy was regretting being with her and wishing he had taken up with Jane Austen's original female protagonist, Elizabeth Bennet?

Evidently, not long at all.

Darcy was introducing her to several of his land tenants right outside of the courtyard. Wanting to make a positive impression as the probable future Mistress of Pemberley, she put her best foot forward.

Unfortunately, her foot stepped on a fresh mound of manure, causing it to slip out from under her. On the way down, she bellowed out a rather colorful obscenity, and a second later, found her bum, solidly planted in the steaming pile.

The nearest tenants rushed to help her from the ground while Darcy remained tall and unmoving, with a blank expression on his face. On her feet once again, red-faced, she profusely apologized, glancing guiltily at Darcy.

He then did something that crushed her inwardly. He turned his back to her. Realization struck her; he was ashamed. And just like that, she had her answer to his proposal. She could not condemn him to a lifetime with her.

Threatening tears had her quickly excusing herself. As she turned the corner out of sight, she bolted to her room, telling her mini-flock of attendants she wanted to be alone. After changing, Amanda slumped down on the edge of her bed to stare out the long-paned window, feeling nothing but the hot tears falling down her cheeks.

Amanda did not know how long she sat there, but hearing male voices below had her springing up in a panic to slip out of her room, scurrying down the hall to the servant's stairway, thinking there was no way she could face him now.

Taking to the grounds of the estate, keeping in the shadows, she walked until she could come to terms with her decision. After what seemed like hours, her mind started to shut down; the terms were too painful—she would leave Pemberley and never see him again.

An eerie darkness of grief and dread surrounded her, and Amanda felt like she was one of the walking dead. So lifeless in thought, she did not realize she had ventured far into the interior of a large section of wilderness. She had no idea where she was, and, apparently, she was alive and not a zombie because her feet were killing her.

Plopping her derriere down on a fallen tree a little way off the path, she pulled off her footwear, wiggled her toes, and started to rub some of the soreness from her soles.

Pounding hooves had her raising her head to the sight of Darcy coming down the path towards her at full gallop. Her lips parted as she inhaled deeply at his impressive stature riding on his majestic steed.

Darcy's approach prompted her wearied mind to imagine a more dramatic effect. Time switched from regular motion into slow motion, in the way of a spectacular scene in an epic motion picture, where the gallant hero rides in to save the day. Shaking her head out of the theater, Amanda just could not believe she was going to say no to his marriage proposal.

Coming upon her quickly, Darcy shouted out her name and brought his snorting mount to an abrupt stop so close that she flipped backward, most ridiculously, over the log with feet going airborne.

If it was amusing in any way, Darcy did not acknowledge it. He hurriedly dismounted, dropped the reins, and was over the log in one fluid motion.

"Amanda, where are you about, woman? Do you not know the dangers you face out here alone?"

Looking up him sheepishly, she sat up and gave him a feeble smile.

"Would a four-legged truck be one of those dangers?" she asked, frowning down at her bodice. "You nearly plowed me over, Darcy."

He must have seen her pull out the twig from her cleavage, and then registered her current seat on the forest carpeting. He gave her a lighthearted smirk and offered his gloved hand for her to take.

Helping her up, straight into his arms, she heard a masculine sigh of relief escaped him. Feeling cherished, she melted. After a moment, Darcy pulled her back and lightly kissed her forehead.

Lifting her head, Amanda found him affectionately regarding her in his usual manner with his head tilted, eyelids lowered, and a hint of an upturn from the corner of his mouth. Darcy's low voice droned pleasantly in her ears as he spoke.

"A woman will never have any reason to fear a man to whom he loves so acutely." Picking pine needles out of her hair, he looked into her eyes, "Forgive me, Mandy, I was most apprehensive when I could not find you, learning from the servants you were seen walking alone hours before."

Mandy? I love that! Remind me again why I have to say no.

"I'm sorry, too. I was lost in my thoughts and did not pay attention to where I was going."

"You will not leave the grounds again unless escorted, Amanda," he said with gentle authority. "I will not see you harmed in any way."

She nodded dumbly, loving his protectiveness and take-charge attitude. Michael would have shrugged his shoulders and send her back out to pick up some Chinese.

A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance causing Darcy's head to look upwards at the darkening sky.

"We must get you back to Pemberley." His hands circled her waist and lifted her over the log. "What were these thoughts you were lost within?"

Here we go, she thought. This is the moment I do the most unselfish, and possibly the stupidest, thing in my life.

"That I was more lady-like, Darcy. Like Jane or Elizabeth. I'm such an embarrassment and a clod," she said, bowing her head to hide her face from him. "You should not have to put up with me."

"You are the one in my heart."

"But for how long?"

Lifting her chin, he demanded her attention.

"What are you insinuating, Amanda?"

"You turned your back to me when I slipped. You were ashamed," she said, trying to control the welling tears. "How long before your humiliation replaces any love you have for me?"

Without a word in reply, he sat her down on the log. Bending down on one knee, he proceeded to unabashedly brush off her bared feet and slip her shoes back on. He did not deny her accusation, causing her lip to begin quivering with emotion.

Once done, Darcy put one hand on each side of her on the log, enclosing her into his private space. His eyes locked in on hers, causing instant paralysis.

"Let me say this, Miss Price. I have before me the most beautiful, exhilarating, and astonishingly unique creature. She stirs my heart in ways I could never imagine a woman could possibly accomplish." Lowering his head even closer, he spoke with deep sincerity. "It is inconceivable for you to believe for one moment I could ever wish to replace what I have coveted so desirously and miraculously received."

No sooner did Darcy finished speaking his hand reached to clasped her behind her head, drawing her face forward to claim her lips. He then proceeded to give her the most mind-blowing kiss she had ever received. Mouth and tongue did not allow any response from her as he fervently took full control of her senses. At length, he pulled back to finish speaking.

"I will thank the divine influences every day for the rest of my life you are no Jane or Elizabeth Bennet or any woman of my acquaintance of the past, present, and future. You are my delight, as you are, in every way."

Rising, Darcy walked over to his grazing horse to bring it closer.

Amanda could not move. She just blinked in stupefaction at his speech. Just as you are! Exactly what Mark Darcy said to Bridget Jones. It was the most significant line in the entire film that defined the couple's whole relationship, not including the new diary scene where Bridget tells Mark diaries are filled with crap.

Darcy pulled her up from her sitting position and effortlessly lifted her sideways onto the saddle's seat. Bounding up behind her, he wrapped his arm under her midriff, securing her possessively against his chest.

A deafening crack of thunder had their transportation half-rearing, startling her to come out of her kiss-induced trance. Grabbing the saddle's rim, Amanda fearfully asked where were the brakes?

She felt his warm breath near her ear, confidently assuring that he had her, as he masterfully brought the beast under control and had it turned and headed towards Pemberley. After a few minutes, Amanda remembered the reason why she came to her decision.

Stiffening, she tentatively asked, "Darcy, what about you turning your back?"

"I must apologize, Mandy, for I was trying to repress the rising mirth caused by your unfortunate slip. How could I humiliate you further with my amusement? I would not conceive of ever doing that to you."

"You wanted to laugh?"

"Forgive me, but yes."

Yes, yes, yes! He wanted to laugh! Oh, thank you, thank you!

Reacting to the relief flooding her body, she slapped his upper leg straddling her securely.

"Oh, Darcy, next time, just let it out. I would have loved to hear your laughter more than anything at that moment," she said. "Come to think of it, I never heard you laugh out loud. Not once."

"I rarely do so. It is undignified."

She frowned. "But I laugh all the time."

"A woman's laughter is music to a man's ears, and I would not wish you to dispense from bringing such delightful noise to mine."

"That's not fair. Can't a man's laughter be music to a woman's ears?"

He shook his head. "Understand, it is a frivolous reaction to be avoided."

"Frivolous! Well, we'll see about that," she said, crossing her arms. "Challenge accepted, Mr. Darcy."

"I'll be on my guard, Miss Price."

"Ticklish?"

"Not in the slightest," he said while squeezing her tighter. "Let us establish basic rules here, smiles are allowable, since it is usually an involuntary response, adding you have produced numerous to this man in the previous weeks."

"Well, you did a bloody good job of hiding them from me."

"Every time I looked upon you and thought of you, I was smiling, Amanda. Know this, internally or externally, there is no distinction of your power over me."

"Thank you for that."

He answered by kissing the top of her head. Amanda let out a content sigh, slumping her body further in the saddle, allowing her head to pillow more comfortably on his shoulder.

After a length of road, her eyelids flashed open, and the corners of her mouth slowly curled up.

"Darcy."

"My love."

"I bet I can get a smile from you now. Maybe even some laughter."

"And what is your wager?"

"If I win, you arrange for me to meet your tenants again. I want to get it right."

"No wager is needed for me to fulfill that request."

"But I want you to take me personally to each farm so I can meet the families of each."

Darcy nodded with approval. "And if you lose the wager?"

"Won't happen, but I will sing for you. Privately."

"It is an intriguing prize that I am certain will be very pleasurable if won," he said with amused firmness. "Now, Miss Price, how is it to be done?"

"One word is all it will take."

"One word," he said, sounding doubtful. "Say it then and astonish me."

She paused for a few seconds for dramatic effect and then let him have it.

"Yes."

The horse came to an abrupt stop with Darcy quickly dismounted, lifting her from the saddle, straight into his arms. Spanning her cheek with a hand, tilting her face upwards to meet his intense stare, he spoke with eagerness.

"Say it again, Mandy, my deepest love, for my ears need verification that it was not a subtle breeze whispering in passing the word from which I have long suffered to hear from your lips."

Feeling his impending joy and excitement, Amanda shouted out her answer again.

Darcy's response was not only to give her an incredibly handsome, teeth-producing smile, but he also took her face into the palm of his hands and fused his mouth with hers in reverent attention. He then proceeded to lift her effortlessly up into the air, causing her to burst out into girlish laughter at his undignified reaction.

Lowering her, he continued his way of expressing his jubilance by kissing her more hungrily and murmuring endearments in between breaks. After many moments of releasing withheld passion, he broke, and her feet found solid ground.

Amanda's mouth was pleasantly numb and tingly. Wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, she pressed her cheek into his waistcoat. Even through the layers, she could hear Darcy's heart drumming erratically.

Pulling back from his arms, she looked up at his lightened face.

"I love you, Darcy."

"My heart is not my own. It is all yours."

"I got you to smile. Glad to see you don't have rotting teeth."

"You will find my hygiene habits are immaculate."

"But no laughter," she pouted. "I'll get you."

Amanda found herself slowly moved back against a tree trunk, entrapped between it and his towering body. His face lowered to where his mouth was a breath away from hers.

"You will succeed, this I am sure, but at this moment, no laughter is needed. I am focused solely on action," he proclaimed with proper authority while his fingers traced the contours of her face and parted mouth. "Do you even comprehend how much I want you?"

Another crack of thunder sounded to emphasize his point as his mouth claimed hers again in a powerful declaration.

As currents of electricity raced up and down her body, she thought this must be what being struck by lightning felt like.

The life-altering decision had been made less than a week ago, and Amanda was to find that saying yes and being engaged gave Darcy justification to take more liberties with her person. He always had a line he did not cross, but he was proving to be a most enthusiastic and keen lover outside of the boudoir.

How many times had Darcy's ardent attentions had her flashing deliciously back to that postmodern moment when he came up from the water with his white, transparent undershirt, clinging to his chiseled upper body and his skin-tight trousers? Enough times to reason that his liberties were most welcomed. There will be no slapping away his hand here!

With that in mind, it seemed even more surprising Darcy's excessive need to uphold all dignity also wavered considerably. After they all had risen from the dining table and entered Pemberley's assembly room, this became very apparent.

It had been explained to her that public shows of affection was not in his upbringing and therefore, not to be tolerated. However, Darcy sought her out and once at her side, his arm secured itself around her waist as people came up to congratulate them. This unconstrained closeness spoke volumes to her. He was proud she was to become his wife.

Further confirmation followed when he raised her hand and kissed it, allowing his lips to linger on her skin. His eyes intently fixed on hers; he bent further and kissed her tenderly on her lips before all the guests. Mouths agape in stunned silence, they all froze in disbelief of what had occurred. There could be no doubt he had reprocessed his previous objections to begin to practice affectionate displays in view of others.

This was unprecedented. To Amanda, he was showing them all she was his, which was significantly more prominent than announcing their engagement with mere words after the dirty dishes were cleared away.

So prestigious was the family's traditions, Amanda would not be surprised if Darcy had just set a new trend that would change the course of societal norms for generations of Darcys. It would be quite ironic if Mr. Darcy started the reformation of public displays of affection.

Right when she finished this thought did Charles Bingley, seeing Darcy unrestrained actions, followed suit and planted a quick peck on the mouth of the unsuspecting Mrs. Collins. Jane's bold response was to reciprocate by bestowing a lingering kiss on his blushing cheek, causing more gasps to echo throughout the room from those who witnessed it.

The couple, with their reputations already thrown into the pot as blackened, ignored the severe exclaims of displaying such open seductions. One pompous ass went as far as to walk up to Charlie and scold him like a child.

Thankfully, Darcy had his arm tightly secure around her waist to prevent her from going to the man and doing something very unbecoming as the future Mistress of Pemberley. However, it was not necessary. With imaginary pom-poms, Amanda cheered to see Bingley snub the man, grab Jane's hand, and walk away.

She sort of wished Charlie might have answered by grabbing Jane, snogging her good right in front of their snobbish critic. Perhaps the action would illuminate the stringent on-lookers to start a new movement of lovemaking without social repercussions.

Then Amanda's mind flashed to archived scenes from the late sixties through the seventies of hippies and flower-power, and the growth of the sexual revolution. Her lips pursed into a severe frown.

What was she thinking?

The ramifications of wanting to be seen as uninhibited evidently led to the breakdown of the family unit with unprotected sex, single-parent homes, and the influx of sexually transmitted diseases. Was it more vigorous public displays of affection that initiated this downfall, or was it the recreational drugs? Most likely, both.

Remembering what she had said to her mum about the reasons why she was so obsessed with the simpler time period had her repulsed at the thought of wanting to change it. The reason she loved Pride & Prejudice so much was not just about the characters; it was the genteel and respectful protocol of the classic novel.

Looking up at the man who suddenly found it okay to some PDA, Amanda finally got it, subtly stepping away from his arm around her waist. His questioning look was brief as Wickham's loud voice distracted him enough to turn his head.

Amanda did not hear what Wickham was saying. Her attention was on Charles and Jane, off in a corner, clearly very much into each other and happy. Curving her frown into a genuine smile, she decided that she would not dream of changing the era's motto of keeping-it-behind-closed-doors. Dropping her imaginary pom-poms in her mind, she instead, applauded their sweet, innocent love for each other silently.

"…some entertainment Darcy, and I hear your bride-to-be has a splendid singing voice. I must hear it. What say you, Miss Price?"

Blinking, Amanda snapped out of her focus.

"Huh?"

Wickham had suddenly appeared by her side.

"Sing for us," he smirked with a touch of humorous intent as he steered her towards the front of the room. "I absolutely insist."

Others joined in to urge her verbally, and her feeble protests were drowned out. Even Darcy was speaking of his pleasure in hearing her beatific voice' again.

He cannot be serious!

Glancing at her fiancé, he gave her confirmation with a slight nod. Oh lordy, he was serious. He knew how much she hated to be put on the spot.

As Wickham pushed her forward, her body became robotically stiff with fear and loathing. Her voice lost words to speak. Her mind was a racing mess. This was not happening. Not on her perfect day.

Wickham! Bloody, bloody hell!

Apprehensively Amanda glanced at Darcy, looking to him for encouragement. He did not disappoint in giving her a gift she was sure he never bestowed on another, including Georgiana. He winked.

Sighing, she sweetly smiled back. Her Darcy, her hero, soon-to-be-husband and devoted lover—

"Miss Price, we are waiting."

"Hold on a sec," she snapped at the familiar voice in the back.

Sure, she was angry with him, but in truth, bastard he was, she would not have gotten this far without George Wickham. Did not mean that if given a chance, she would not wallop him good and shove him out of the door.

Okay, calm yourself. It will be fine.

After all, her song choice was a beloved American classic, and if anything, it would be amusing. It may even get Darcy to laugh. The only reason she knew the lyrics were due to the employee holiday party, which included Karaoke. She sang it repeatedly in her drunken state, embedding the catchy words into her consciousness.

Licking her lips, Amanda dredged up the saliva in preparation, took a deep breath, opened her mouth, and prayed what came out did not mirror the sound of a squealing pig.

"You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch; you really are a heel. You're as cuddly as a cactus; you're as charming as an eel, Mr. Grrrinch…"

Looking at the gaping mouths and wide-eyed faces as she sang she wanted to shrink off to a corner and smoke a ciggy.

"You're a monster, Mr. Grinch. Your heart is an empty hole. Your brain is full of spiders, and there's garlic in your soul, Mr. Grrrinch…"

Her eyes locked on Darcy's and she could not believe it. Plastered on his face was a full grin. Okay, more like a contented smirk reminiscent of Colin Firth listening to Jennifer Ehle singing in the 1995 version of Pride & Prejudice. Nevertheless, there it was, and it was all for her.

"Ohhhh, your heart is a dead tomato, splotched with moldy purple spots, Mr. Grrrinch…"

Heart lightened and confidence restored, Amanda felt that the rest of the song seemed to come out quite nicely. As she finished, she sang the last line with such feeling and heart it surely would have impressed that Simon, stick-up-his-bum, Cowell.

Throwing out her arms dramatically out to her sides with palms exposed she ended with fervor.

"You're a three-decker, sauerkraut, toadstool sandwich with arsenic saaauce!"

Rising from her curtsy to acknowledge the audience's response, Darcy was by her side, directing her away to a corner of the room where he could talk to her privately.

"Splendid, Miss Price. Absolutely splendid."

"You're teasing me."

"Certainly not," he said with a glint of mirth in his eyes. "Although I must inquire what manner of a man is this Mr. Grinch who offends one so profoundly?"

"Oh, you could say he was a lot like you in the beginning." His head tilted, simulating a mock scowl at her. "But he grows a really big heart and eventually improves upon acquaintance a great deal."

Remembering the Dr. Seuss cartoon, she viewed online, and the adorable little blue-eyed, Who-child that stole the Grinch's heart, Amanda stifling a giggle and asked him what he thought about naming their first daughter Cindy Lou.

It must have been the mere mentioning of the prospect of her having his child, or the procreation of, because Darcy's face changed from amusement to flamed desire. She recognized the look, and she quivered in anticipation. She was about to embark on some serious snogging with a fictional character from a novel published in the first part of the eighteen hundreds—it still boggled the mind.

She watched as Darcy glanced around at his guests mingling to see if anyone was looking. Placing his hand on the small of her back, he directed her to the nearest room, which was a dimly lit library.

Alone, he crushed her to him and passionately took control of her mouth. Amanda returned as much as she got. Bet he was glad now she was no timid, virginal maiden.

Darcy's heated desire backed her up against the walled shelves, lined with hundreds of books. With hand flat against the spines, leveraging the pressure of his body upon hers, and other arm wrapped around her waist with fingers spanning her backside, he took control in his eager want for her.

Who would have believed the haughty Mr. Darcy, with his icy exterior, was such a hot-blooded man with animistic needs that made her tingle all over? Not many, but she was grateful to be the recipient of indisputable proof.

Amanda allowed her hands to roamed up his torso, wishing it were bare for her to put her lips on, moving up to thread her fingers through his thick hair, directing his head down from his hungry assault on her mouth down to her well-cleavage bosom from which he resumed his impatient exploration.

"Mandy, my treasure, you are exquisitely wild and sweet to taste," he murmured on her skin. "I want…need every part of you."

With that, he redirected upwards to a safer haven, her neck, nibbling and nipping the area. Her knees grew rubbery, but Darcy, sensing her weakness, tightening his hold, and pressing her firmly with his tall length.

Elizabeth, you fool Amanda thought, blissfully smiling while he pushed her hair aside and started in on her earlobe. Your loss; he is all mine now.

The heat she was feeling combined with his impassioned words had her blurting out for him to get rid of the guests and take her to his bed, stopping him as suddenly as he started.

Did I just say that? Bugger, I did.

Darcy stepped quickly away from her as if a bucket of cold water was just dumped over his head, dousing his passion and exposing his guilt in wanting her so badly. Amanda nearly crumbled to the ground with his sudden departure.

"You must forgive me, Mandy, my love. I seemed to have lost all semblance of control, once again," he said with frustration, running his fingers through his tousled hair.

"Oh, Darcy, it's okay, I wanted it too," she declared, reaching out to him.

Raising his hand before him, he backed away.

"Woman, stop, I beg you. I am in no condition to be near you. I fear one touch and I will not be able to hold back."

"But Darcy—"

"Madam, I must insist." His strong jawline tightened in determination. "I accept you are no longer a maiden, but I will not possess you entirely until we wed!"

A resonant gasp sounded, and both heads turned at once in the direction of the door. It was Miss de Bourgh. The shocked expression on her face left no doubt she had heard every word. Anne quickly disappeared, and in unison, both their heads snapped back to look at each other's shocked faces with mouths gaped.

Forgetting her pledge to herself, Amanda let out a resounding expletive, which had Darcy nodding in agreement.

Amanda sat, silently watching, as a tempered Darcy stomped back and forth in the emptied room.

Miss de Bough had expedited her departure with Colonel Fitzwilliam before Darcy could speak to her and shortly after that, he prematurely ended the evening and politely herded the rest of his guests out.

He was visibly agitated. Obviously, Anne already knew Darcy and she was engaged, so it must be about the whole blasted 'not a maid' thing.

Previously, Amanda had told Darcy about his aunt's threat for her not to pursue him. Surprisingly, his response was to tell her not to be uneasy; he would deal with his aunt in due time. He did not seem concerned in the slightest, and it did not go unnoticed he announced their engagement with his cousin Anne present, making it known that he did not care about his aunt being informed of the future event.

Nevertheless, Amanda was sure Lady Catherine de Bourgh, once informed of her nephew's engagement to a penniless and barbarous wench, would give birth to a rather large cow and moo out her displeasure. So, the inclusion she would not be a virgin bride should not matter. Right?

Darcy made it clear how he felt about her past, so the rest can blow it out of their…hold on, back the train up. Was he anxious about his reputation? Was he concern his aunt would publicly expose that his future wife was sullied?

Worried now, she asked hesitantly, "Really, Darcy, is it such a big deal?"

What!

Darcy's head snapped around to glare at her. Seeing her befuddled expression, he softened. She did not understand. He was not concerned about his reputation, although, he was most apprehensive about hers.

It was not her deficiency, being raised during a generation of great technological significance, but degraded moral refinement. His dearest one was a guiltless product of an unsophisticated and explicit century. Fate twisted the hands of time to allow her to escape such a debauched population.

Acceptance of the remarkable circumstances of Amanda's out-of-her-time travel was becoming easier to grapple with knowing from where she was coming from. Darcy was perpetually grateful she was no longer part of that depraved culture where she could fall further victim to its degenerative influences.

Being she was fortunately liberated, his sole occupation will be to safeguard and shelter her from any further harm. With his unguarded statement in the library, he feared he had opened the gates to failure in that regard and it frustrated him immensely.

Where Amanda had been in the gravest of danger in the future, there were still certain unequivocal threats in his. She had no connections, no family, or residence, and most disastrous of all to a young woman, was no longer virginal.

In this society, if discovered, vultures would circle and eventually swoop down and strip her delectable flesh to the bone unless he stood by her side, readied to shoot the scavengers from the air. Lady Catherine would be the first to land, and he felt the urgency of having to act swiftly.

"Darcy, admit it, you are ashamed of me," she said in a dejected voice. "I would not blame you one bit."

It was that word again. How could she continue to believe he was capable of such a thought? He rushed to her side, pulling her from where she sat to engulfed her in his arms.

"Amanda, I find that word offensive and will not hear it from your lips again. If one must apply a word to use in how I feel, let adoration take its place."

She let out a big sigh of relief and he kissed the top of her head. For the moment at least, she was safe. Thinking about the civilization from which she had resided, once married, he would forbid her to go back alone to the hellish place and its consortium of reprobates.

One particular reprobate immediately came to mind.

Darcy's blood boiled every time he thought of Dolan. His ungentlemanly conduct went beyond a soiled street vermin. He had witnessed, first hand, Dolan's violent tendencies, and verbal vulgarities. It was by no strange revelation why Amanda had to learn defensive dexterity against men for her own protection. Mr. Collins certainly felt the brunt of one of these abilities.

What hope was there for humanity where the delicate sex had to learn how physically to protect themselves from men? The very thought of such an environment was abhorrent to him. Darcy vowed always to make it abundantly clear to Amanda how a real man treats a woman; she would be shielded, cherished and adored by him.

Presently, it seemed she might be subjected once again to indignity and humiliation. Tightening his hold on her, Darcy agonized. Must she suffer in this age as well?

His beloved will be protected, and the way had already been decided with the announcement of his intentions. Time had become the adversary here, and Darcy knew how to conquer it. Pulling her away, he spoke.

"Amanda, my love, let us set aside all ceremony. Become my wife, on the morrow, noonday."

Darcy watched as Amanda's face blossomed with excitement, but her jubilance quickly faded.

"Darcy, Bingley," she reminded him.

Forgetting himself, he let out an aggravated oath.

Darcy and his barrister premeditated to meet with Bingley to complete the annulment process for Mrs. Collins and help settle affairs before their journey to the Americas. He insisted on taking all the expense of the annulment and travel upon himself for his friend and soon-to-be wife. It was the least he could do after his actions almost ruined Bingley's happiness. Unfortunately, this would take him away for the most of the day.

Amanda's hand reached up and cupped his jaw, taking him away from his frustrated thoughts and drawing his attention back to her face, lit with a full decorative smiled and large, luminescent eyes, sparkling brightly. It always astounded him her unique beauty, which could not be matched. It took hold of him from the very beginning.

"But I think I am free the next day. How is your schedule looking for Tuesday, Mr. Darcy?"

His lip curled upwards in one corner.

"Most assuredly, I shall make arrangements to be at liberty, Miss Price."

"Tuesday it is and don't think Bingley and you can go out on your last night of freedom to—"

Ignoring her attempt to tease him, he cut her off by taking her face into his hands, kissing her passionately. Raising his mouth from hers, he gazed earnestly into her eyes.

"I might add, Cindy Lou is a uniquely beautiful choice of name for our daughter."

Amanda flushed with an animated expression.

"Me, a mum? Crickey."

Darcy could not prevent his long-suppressed laughter from reverberating throughout the room.